Abigail Gracey

Why am I so emotionally invested in academics? Why do I care about my grades or clubs that I am involved in? What is the true motivation behind this investment? These are the questions I found myself asking as I began to write my first research outline, thinking about which theories I could incorporate into our argument about social belonging in elite schools. Kenway, Fahey, and Koh’s study titled “The Libidinal Economy of the Globalising Elite School Market,” which discussed the roles of agency and emotion in elite schools, first sparked this question. More specifically, Kenway uses the term “bank of emotion” to explain the deep connection students seem to have to academics and to their schools, suggesting that the “global and transnational elite” hold the power to dictate the rules in this field of power. Perhaps a subconscious ethic build around power structures drives this emotional investment?

In other words, those who are emotionally invested have the power to decide what it is most important to care about, such as how elite status is maintained and advanced. If you have the financial safety net of the elite, then what is motivating you to be emotionally invested in academics? Does this emotional investment determine who will succeed in the long term, or is it unnecessary? It became evident that these questions were important to our study when we began writing our outline, and specifically our discussion section.

I have never written a research paper using qualitative data, so the narrative findings section was new to me. I felt like the structure of this section complimented my Type A tendencies, but I was challenged a bit more in the discussion section to think on a bigger scale, and bring together theory and finding. Relating the significance of these findings to the greater field of educational theory seems to be the meat of the paper, so when we read about Kenway’s term “banks of emotion” it was exciting to see how it could fit into our analysis.

We are studying an international elite school in Denmark, arguing that common differences in culture and a shared socioeconomic class are two of the biggest factors that facilitate a feeling of social belonging among the students, who, as children of highly mobile parents, do not often stay at the school for more than a few years. In thinking about social belonging theory in a somewhat post neoliberal society, I began wondering if elite schools could even exist in a truly post neoliberal space. Is this “bank of emotion” unique to students at elite schools? Or do students at different types of schools experience this same level of emotion, but with a socioeconomic motivation rather than a social one?

In thinking about the answers to these questions, I found it helpful to look back to our discussions on Bourdieu’s theories of capital and fields of power. Bourdieu’s argument that capital, in all of its forms (such as social, intellectual, cultural, and economic), is heavily tied to the preservation of the elite class, seems to be relevant in the case study of social belonging as well. For example, if social capital is more highly valued in an elite field of power such as a private international school, maybe capital is a key variable that facilitates emotional investment.

Bourdieu argues that people’s life choices are defined by their own definitions of their own capital. Along these lines, if elite prioritization of social capital causes emotional investment, and in some cases causes stress that emerges from this social pressure, how do we explain the positive sense of belonging that emerges from negative emotion (stress)?

The irony in researching theories to use in our paper is that the stress and pressure we experience during this process exemplifies our own emotional ties to academic success. With this thought, I think the research process comes full circle, and we are able to address our own possible biases in order to acknowledge limitations to theory application.

References:

Bourdieu, Pierre, 1930-2002. The State Nobility : Elite Schools in the Field of Power. Stanford, Calif :Stanford University Press, 1996. Print.

“…Environmental, social, economic, and political conditions provide the outer framework that supports happiness, whereas personal mental and physical health, skills, and tastes provide the inner framework for supporting happiness” (42). Spring, author of “Basic Educational Principles for a Long Life and Happiness,” argues these factors in the context of an inclusive, supportive schooling environment, are what will create the “happiest” students. But the question remains over how to define happiness, and who has the power to define it, particularly in the context of expanding these ideas to a global citizenship context. What elements of culture and schooling provide the foundation for this definition, and is it really the goal educators should be striving for?

Mirriam-Webster defines “happiness” as “obsolete: good fortune, prosperity” or “a state of well-being and contentment,” yet even these two definitions seem in competition with each other, and are reminiscent of the competing definitions found in a global context. It seems to be a very Western way of thinking that contentment comes from good fortune in the form of money and economic capital, yet other cultures may have alternative ideas to what contributes to contentment, and other ideas to the ultimate end goal all together, apart from finding contentment. I think this research helps highlight the possibility of varying goals of education systems worldwide, and in the Western world, particularly in the United States, happiness seems to be the ideal achievement.

Last week, Adam asked in our class discussion, “Why are you at Colby?” Perhaps it is because I haven’t been asked this question since applying to college, but it gave me a definite feeling of discomfort. I have been fortunate to study at the University of Burgundy in France my freshman fall, and then at the University of Otago in New Zealand last spring. Since returning to Colby, and reflecting on these experiences, I have had trouble integrating them into my daily life back in the “Colby bubble.” This question expands beyond my education classes and seems relevant in all fields at Colby: how do we integrate these global experiences in a smaller, rural setting like Waterville? Specifically, it is difficult to spend time in New Zealand, for example, where appreciation of nature and importance of the outdoors are associated with

happiness, and then return to the elite nature of a private liberal arts school in New England, where it seems that prestige and degree are equated with happiness. That is not to say that one is better than the other, but it does seem that in both instances, education systems don’t seem to allow for much flexibility in defining happiness or success, and that the end goal in both places still seems to be this unattainable idea of “happiness.”

Similar to what some of my classmates mentioned during that discussion, I would love to say that I am at Colby, and college in general, solely for my love of learning. However, I think the reasons I am here are much more deeply rooted in our cultural definitions of happiness and success, and, quite simply, to walk away with a prestigious degree that will open doors for my future career, likely in either outdoor education or adventure therapy. This reality seems reminiscent of Bourdieu’s theories on capital, and makes me wonder if in the Western world, the closest we can come to achieving society’s definition of happiness is accumulating as many types of capital societally defined as prestigious, whether it be cultural, social, economic, and the list goes on.

I have found a constant push and pull in doing research on globally elite schools. On one hand, I am aware that have the privilege of attending an elite college myself, and there are many aspects of this experience that I believe have helped broaden my worldview and incorporate new perspectives into my mindset. I have been socialized to strive for happiness in any capacity. I find tension in my competing definition of happiness with the elite community, and, although strange to criticize the social network I am fortunate to be a part of, as it will likely provide me future economic and political capital. I don’t believe these types of capital, or the sublayer of competition residing under all forms of capital, are what should be valued or pursued. Can anyone in elite schools truly say that they are not striving for a Western ideological definition of “happiness”? Or does the privilege of being supported by the economic safety net of the elite network revoke that ability to criticize this definition of happiness?

Over three years of taking social justice classes at Colby, psychology seminars, and doing civic engagement, I believe I’ve come to the beginning of my senior year with more questions than I began with. While this realization is at times overwhelming, it also seems to suggest a more optimistic path for the future, both for what it means to be a young educator in a politically chaotic atmosphere, as well as for ways to understand how today’s climate may dictate shifting needs within the classroom, with “classroom” taking on broader definition.

It is a strange juxtaposition to be diving into critical discussions on social mobility (or lack thereof) and perpetual elitism when I am taking part in an enterprise (a small, private liberal arts school) that seems to be doing just that. In beginning our research on a private, international school, I keep coming back to the same question — how are we to criticize these systems as people who are simultaneously benefitting from them? So true and interesting!

I think this is where allowing for liberal definitions of “social justice” or “classroom” can be most beneficial to the greater community. For example, while Merriam-Webster’s dictionary defines social justice as “a state or doctrine of egalitarianism” aimed towards “the removal of inequalities among people,” it seems critical that, as social justice advocates and activists, we also consider the context of the society we are discussing (ranges of class, race, sexual orientation, etc…) (Dolan-Reilly, 2013). Perhaps to clarify, I mean that, coming from a background of a private liberal arts education, the acknowledgement that we will not be able to understand, say, the experience of someone who attends a large public university. However, in defining and then enacting social justice principles and policies, specifically in the field of education, it is necessary for us to accept this inability to understand what it is like to be in another’s footsteps, and instead do all we can to collect information and hear experiences that give us the widest perception of another’s perspective.

In the context of this year, and more specifically, this research project, taking these goals of listening and empathy, may allow for more effective and creative ideas to emerge regarding new meanings of the classroom, and what education looks like. Thinking of the “classroom” as a backyard, a playroom, or a dinner table, and reevaluating our ideas of what it means and who gets to be an “educator,” keeping in mind ideas of privilege, accessibility, and elitism, could provide important insight as we continue our research through an international lens.