Schooling the body

How do we know when someone is a good listener? A large part of this answer lies in what their body tells us. A good listener keeps quiet so that we can talk. They are attentive and watch us for our body’s signals and respond appropriately. They might laugh, smile, or grimace. They might incline their head to hear us better. In focusing their complete attention on us, not another task or person, they might lean forward, or sit closer. When we listen well our mouth, eyes, ears, hands, and posture all work together to produce a ‘picture’ of listening which gives the impression that the person being listened to is heard. We are also generally not aware of what our bodies are doing to show we are ‘good’ listeners. The act of listening well is embodied. But we did not start out like this, unconsciously enacting the role of a good listener. Good listening is something we learn to do. It is modelled by those around us, our parents, our communities, our teachers. There may be variations in what we do with our bodies to show we are listening attentively, depending on cultural mores and values in our communities. We learn implicitly and explicitly what our bodies need to do to listen well when we are young. If a discussion about listening seems a strange way to begin, I would like to draw attention to A poster, entitled ‘Rules for Good Listening’ (Carson-Dellosa Publishing), that was stuck on the walls in the Grade 1 classrooms at Southside Primary School. Southside Primary and Acacia Preschool (both pseudonyms) are the research sites discussed in this book. The poster also hangs in many other classrooms in South Africa. The poster set on a bright yellow background depicts a picture of a smiling child sitting at a desk with a pencil and sheets of paper on it. The child’s fingers are interlocked with arms resting on the top of the desk; the feet are placed next to each other underneath the desk. The child’s body parts are labelled with the following phrases with the body parts in capital letters: ‘EYES are watching’, ‘EARS are listening’, ‘LIPS are closed’, ‘HANDS are still’, and ‘FEET are quiet’. These labels run along the left hand side of the poster. This is a useful starting point with which to illustrate the key concepts which inform the thinking of this book. It is also the first example of how this book works with theory. Theory and practice are not separate. Rather, each time a new concept is introduced it is explained, using practical examples that arise from data collected at Southside and Acacia. Each term is bolded so that it can be easily identified. When smaller terms are crucial to understanding how a major term functions, they are italicized. Chapters 2, 3, and 4 each have a particular focus (space, time, and regulation) where specific terms are introduced and applied to the data. The use of these terms is also cumulative: where relevant they are used again in the analysis of later data. This works to extend the examples used originally, so as to create a fuller picture of the ways in which we can understand the application of the theory. Their application in the later chapters on reading, writing, and assessment presents a richer picture of classroom life. For example, surveillance is a frequently used term. Knowing that we are being eyeballed, supervised, or watched, often helps us to regulate behaviour. Foucault uses the example of the

panopticon. Constructed as a central tower in a prison, it presents the guards with full visual access to all prisoners’ cells. The prisoners cannot see into the tower. They never know when they are being watched. What it does is ‘induce in the inmate a state of consciousness and permanent visibility that assures the automatic functioning of power’ (Foucault, 1977: 201). A teacher who watches her class carefully would know which children are good listeners and which are not by identifying compliant and non-compliant body postures and behaviour. Children would know that their behaviour is monitored. But surveillance is not a one-way process, because as later chapters show, children watch each other (Chapter 4), the state watches teachers (Chapters 4 and 7), and records of surveillance are captured in writing (Chapter 7). In order to illustrate the overarching concepts that inform the thinking of this book, this chapter is divided into two categories. The first category sets out several Foucauldian concepts that are useful in thinking about schooling, the body, and power. It is the work of Foucault that allows for a sustained examination of practices across five classrooms that make up the research sites. One of the benefits of using this theoretical lens to analyse these classrooms is that it focuses on transitions. What are the shifts and continuities in learning, as children move from preschool into primary school? What remains constant and what changes, emerges, or disappears when children reach the end of the first phase of schooling in South Africa, at the end of Grade 3? The second category deals with literacy. It describes the ways in which literacy can be understood and foregrounds the way in which I work with literacy.