The Classroom as a Body without Organs
"[The way in which] bodies are constructed constrains creativity and positions things and people into regulatory orders."(Deleuze and Guattari 157) In their concept of the Body without Organs or BwO, Deleuze and Guattari suggest that a BwO allows for free flowing intensities, connections, and fluidity. In this function of the concept, I believe that the classroom represented as a Body without Organs is the best situation for learning, as it promotes unpredictability, movement, and the emergence of ideas.
To better understand the concept of the classroom as a BwO, I will first present the classroom as a Body with Organs. My experience throughout elementary school taught me about the ideal of structure, guidelines, and organization.
It was my first day of kindergarten and I was well aware that this was a day of utmost importance. Mothers were trying desperately to hold back their tears, while children waited anxiously for the bus to arrive. What was so sad about children going to school? I understand now, but I didn't then. The anticipation of my first day of school was when I first learned the notion of anxiety. I learned how important it was that everything be structured and organized.
I had an awesome outfit picked out well in advance. My hot pink trousers, pink and white striped shirt and suspenders had been hanging in my closet for weeks waiting for this special day. My hair was in perfect ringlets, my backpack had not seen a speck of dirt, and my name and address were perfectly displayed on the outer pocket. I was nervous I would spill something on my new shirt. Who would I be with a stain on my shirt? I would be the girl with the stain on her shirt on the first day of school.
My photographic memory reminds me of the day; my friends and I lined up perfectly as the bus arrived to pick us up. Mom took a picture of me getting on the bus. I waved out the window. And then I imagine she bawled. When I arrived at school, my teacher was waiting outside, greeting her new students and directing us where to go.
In the classroom, everything was absolutely perfect. Nothing was out of place. The yellow bins, red bins, and blue bins were in perfect order. Posters on the wall hung perfectly straight. Rugs were exactly where they should be, nothing was askew. Our cubbies were labeled and in alphabetical order. Nametags were placed where we would sit for the rest of the year. Throughout my entire school career, I would sit next to Jeffrey Keller more times than I'd like to mention. All because my last name was Keene. What if I had been born a Wilson. Would my life be entirely different? Could I have had a life changing conversation with Emily Winston? I'll never know.
The teacher welcomed us to school and promptly made us aware of the classroom rules. Rule number one – Follow instructions quickly. Rule number two – Respect others. Rule number three – Raise your hand for permission to speak. Rule number four – Make smart choices. Rule number five – Obey all other school rules.
Anxiety as the five year old me knew it, had set in. Follow instructions quickly? What if I had to pee? What if I didn't understand the instructions? What if I didn't hear the teacher's instructions? Make smart choices. How do I know what smart is - I'm five. What if I accidentally make a choice that isn't smart? What will happen? Will I be the girl who said something that wasn't smart? Something stupid?
That morning we also learned The Pledge of Allegiance. The teacher never told us why we had to say it every day, we just did. It was an organized part of each day.
One particular day stands out vividly in my mind. When I want to remember my kindergarten classroom, the way it looked, felt, sounded, and smelled, I go back to this day. I remember the teacher’s metal desk at the front of the room just near the door, the tables were organized in a way that fit perfectly into the center of the room, and the long windows on the wall behind me let the sunlight shine on my back. This classroom felt like it was meant for learning and for good behavior. It sounded still and calm, I could often hear the noise and whispers of the hallway and was intrigued as to what might be going on outside of this room. It smelled of paste, pages of worn books, and freshly sharpened pencils. This day that brings back all of these sensory memories was a monumental day in my five year old life. It was the day we learned how to cut perfect paper hearts. The teacher handed out red construction paper to everyone, and told us to take out our scissors. We then folded the paper and began cutting a half heart shape. She told us this is how we would cut a perfect heart. I tried over and over again. It was becoming clear that it would never be good enough. I would never be good enough. I would never be perfect. This was not good news.
In first grade, as we were practicing our writing skills, writing the same letter over and over again, my teacher noticed that although my writing looked okay, I was holding my pencil the wrong way. What?! I had graduated to the first grade and had been holding my pencil the wrong way this entire time? I was embarrassed. She even told my mom! I tried to hold it the “right” way, but to this day I still can’t figure it out. I hold my pencil the wrong way. Every time I look at my two fingers gripping the top of my pen, I am aware that it is the wrong way.
In second grade I learned that Thursdays were "Italian Dunkers" day in the cafeteria. I can't believe we were told that hotdog buns with American cheese on top and a side of marinara sauce were called Italian Dunkers. Not a Thursday went by that deviated from the norm. Every Thursday we had Italian Dunkers. Every Monday we had hamburgers, Tuesdays we had pizza, and so on and so on. Even what we ate was organized!
In third grade I learned that I would have four days to memorize a list of spelling words. There would be a test on Friday in which I should spell all of the words correctly. If I wasn’t able to do this, I was not a good student. I was being judged completely on my memorization skills and how I could present them on lined paper. From this point on, I spent my time memorizing, rehearsing, repeating, and not comprehending. The value that was placed on being perfect, being organized, taking in knowledge and then presenting it back to the teacher, made it difficult for me to ask questions, to ponder, and to really, truly think.
In fourth grade I learned that being confused was not okay. If I raised my hand, which was rare, I made sure I had the right answer. When a child was called on, projecting the wrong answer, I remember feeling horrible for him. The teacher always seemed to respond, "No, but good try, does anyone else know the correct answer?" I felt humiliated for the child. No acknowledgement to his confusion, no explanation. All the teacher was looking for was the correct answer. If I didn’t understand something I kept it to myself, not wanting to disrupt the organization of the classroom and definitely not wanting to give an incorrect answer.
One day in fourth grade, we colored extravagant pictures depicting what we wanted to be when we grew up. I wanted to be a ballet dancer. Others wanted to be firemen, teachers, veterinarians, and mothers. Our presentations of these pictures were fit into a small time slot of our day. I held up my picture and said, "When I grow up I want to be a ballerina." Followed by the next child, the fireman. Why didn't we spend a week talking about these pictures? This was important stuff! Were our desires really this minimal and unimportant?
From kindergarten on, the organ-ization of the classroom showed me that I was expected to be perfect, to display only my knowledge, to speak only when called on, to not be confused, and to follow directions at all times. My classrooms were based on schedules, routine, directions, and most importantly, organization. I often wonder who I would be today if my childhood classrooms had been conducted in a different way. What if my teachers had encouraged confusion, spontaneity, and emergence?
As Deleuze and Guattari state, “organs are not the enemy of the body,” in this case, the body being the classroom body. What is the enemy of the body is the organism, which consists of organ-ization. "Dismantling the organism opens the body to connections that presuppose one entire assemblage." (Deleuze and Guattari 160) When a teacher is able to limit organization, allow for flow and movement, and to even loosen up on guidelines, her students will learn. They will comprehend, they will bounce ideas off of each other. The children will look not only to the teacher, but to each other for solutions. "The BwO reveals itself as a connection of desires, conjunction of flows, and continuum of intensities...It is continually in the process of constructing itself." (Deleuze and Guattari 161) When a classroom body is allowed to have desires and intensities, to make connections, and to let all of this flow together and emerge it will build itself up in the best possible way. Without these concepts, the classroom cannot construct itself creatively. The impact that organization and predictability had on me as a child will stay with me for the rest of my life. From my first day of kindergarten, I learned that the classroom, as well as my thoughts should be organized. They should make sense and I should not be confused.
I was always considered a good student because I spoke only when called on, I scored highly on all of my tests, I did exactly as I was told, I expressed just the right amount of creativity, and I followed directions. Always. The only complaint was that I was shy and I needed to speak up more. This fact was always brought up in my report cards. Always.
I felt shy, I felt nervous, I felt that the importance placed on proving my knowledge was overwhelming. I didn’t speak up because it was made clear that giving the right answer was the ultimate goal. The only goal. Being confused was not an option. And being too confused might even get you in trouble. Or give you the label of being weird. I stuck to doing exactly as I was told, too afraid to say anything, too afraid to give a wrong answer. I was encouraged to be in thought, but not encouraged to think. As Deleuze states. "The classical image of thought is a real betrayal of what it means to think." (Olsson 27) Thinking would allow me to be aware that I had desires and that I wanted to know more than what was presented to me. This did not fit into the organization of the classroom.
As a child, especially a shy child, I was often spoken for. As far as I was concerned, Parent and Teacher conferences consisted of me sitting in the hall while my mother talked with my teacher. What was my teacher saying about me? Why wasn’t my opinion important? What if I had desires that needed to be addressed? I learned that I should not have desires, that what I was being taught was enough. Why would I want to know more? Delueze and Guattari state that the BwO is desire. In this case, the classroom should be desire. It should encourage children to desire.
Desire should be a driving force in children's learning. Deleuze and Guattari refer to it as "the unconscious process of production of the real" (Olsson 142) Desire is not something a child lacks, but something that they seek, something they yearn for. They want their curiosities to be presented to them in a real form and to be acknowledged. Institutions like to keep desire at bay so that children can be evaluated at predefined standards, meaning if they don't desire, they will not feel they are lacking anything.
Imagine a classroom where the day is just as exciting and unpredictable for the teacher as it is for the students. The teacher is the listener and observer and allows for children’s ideas, excitement, and confusion to flow. Children often sit on the floor or on couches and they lie on the floor to draw. They are encouraged and even required to sit by someone new each day. Children take turns leading the class, making their own opinions and desires known to others. These concepts then allow for ideas to emerge throughout the classroom. Second graders discuss street photography. Fourth graders study break dancing as a way to learn about math. The teacher invents a problem before searching for a solution, leaving room for experimentation, movement, and the unexpected to occur. Children are in awe when learning new things, they are allowed to ask the questions they want, there is no wrong question, there is no correct answer. One student’s confusion leads to another student becoming even more confused, leading them both to desire knowledge. The teacher assists in the conversation and observes as connections are made. "Instead of searching for what a child is as a person and individual, we have to search for the "and" through augmenting the numbers of connections or encounters that provoke something new to be thought." (Olsson 43) When a teacher allows confusion and unpredictability to happen, connections will be made. The more connections a child can make, the larger their desire for knowledge will be. One child will voice a confusion “and” another will voice their confusion, “and” another makes a connection to the confusions. Emergence will then occur.
As Deleuze and Guattari state, "There are three strata that directly bind us: organism, significance, and subjectification." (Deleuze and Guattari 159) How can we get rid of the notions of the organism, significance and subjectification in our classrooms? By limiting organization and allowing children to be confused. By letting them have desires and make connections with everything that surrounds them. When we represent the classroom as a Body without Organs, our children will be allowed to learn and grow like children. They will be given credit for their own thoughts and curiosities, not being thought of as “only” children. They will be allowed to freely express their confusions and desires. This in turn will host emergence, connectivity, and unpredictability in the classroom, concepts which are necessary for children’s understanding and excitement of knowledge.
How to create a classroom as a representation of a Body without Organs
• Let children take turns leading the class discussions
• Limit structure of desk placement and seating assignments. Switch around nametags each day before students get to class, encourage them to sit by someone different than the day before.
• After reading a book, ask the children what they still want to know. If you read a book about slugs, afterwards ask the children what they want to know and find the answers. Look online for pictures of slugs and slug eggs and slug habitats. Let the children lead the discussion. Be a listener.
• Allow for the unexpected to happen. This lets children make connections and enlarge the number of concepts they have. Allow children to find relations.
• Loosen up on the focus of knowledge. Knowledge is not everything. Knowledge does not alone represent the child.
• If you, as a teacher, and as a person, are interested in street photography teach your students about street photography. Show them pictures, let them ask questions, leave the discussion open ended. Bring in a couple of cameras for the children to take home, have them take their own street photography and bring photographs back to share with the class. Continue the discussion throughout the year.
• It is not necessary to make a child aware of a learning goal, for example, by Friday you should memorize all of these spelling words and you will prove it in an exam. They will learn the words in their own time, it might take two days or two weeks. As long as they are learning and enjoying learning, you should feel proud. If they are not comprehending, this should present an exciting challenge. Find new connections to make to help the child grasp concepts.
• "The normal child" should soak up the knowledge they are given and then produce it exactly. Get rid of this notion.
• Get comfortable with unpredictability.
• Move away from representing children as what kind of subject they are.
• Practice being a listener and observer.
• Let events and ideas remain open-ended, if children are excited about a topic, do not move away from it quickly, allow the discussion to go on infinitely.