It is the beginning of December, which means I have a couple of weeks to go before a much-needed real break without work assigned. Until then, I have three more final papers to crunch out. As much as I am dreading writing them, I find myself in a much better (and clearer) state to write them. This is an indication that my transition to graduate school life is on track, and that I am beginning to achieve a state of normalcy in this new environment. School work is not getting any lighter or less complex, but my outlook has become more positive, and I have found some comfort in the structures I have created for myself. The next thing to work on is my sleeping schedule, which is currently erratic and needs some serious fixing. Apart from that, I have also begun to embrace feeling comfortable with discomfort, being OK with not fully understanding a challenging reading, and stepping out of my comfort zone with regards to academics.

Today, I’m sharing with you a second paper for one of my doctoral seminars. About a week ago, I shared one of my first academic pieces. I was not particularly attached to that paper, and I found myself playing it “safe.” The professor picked up on this and marked me down for “emerging voice”; I was not pleased, but it was a fair assessment. For this second paper, I went to the other extreme and devoted to writing about something that I cared about, even though I felt very much alone in the process.

Let me elaborate: unlike my undergraduate and high school experience, my graduate experience so far has been comparably isolating. Yes, I am part of a cohort, and I do meet (sometimes virtually) with my study group once a week for a few hours; however, there is not much socializing and sharing beyond that. Classes are discussion-based, but they are structured, and every week I feel pressured to say something insightful and to do so in an articulate manner. I have not been very successful; in fact, I have sort of given up on sharing verbally in class. In that way, I suppose I’m not a “good grad student” and somehow, I am okay with it. Almost certainly, my “participation” grade will reflect my lack of verbal contribution in whole-class discussions; I am bitter about this to some extent, but I have also accepted this expectation, which is part of the established norms of what it means to “participate” in an academic setting in the U.S. To say that I am disengaged would not only be inaccurate but also insulting, because contrary to mainstream belief, listening critically and attentively is just as important and demanding as speaking up. I engage by contributing during small-group discussion, by hearing what others have to say, by thinking A LOT and processing information when I am silent, and writing down my reflections. However, much of this is happening in my head, within me, by myself. As such, it can be a lonely endeavor.

In writing this second paper, I was in my head too much for my own good. Unfortunately, when I did reach out to seek feedback on my thinking, I often hit a dead-end and left feeling a bit defeated, and with two main takeaways: 1) asking for help from professors is encouraged in writing, but not really; as a grad student, you need to be self-sufficient; you are, afterall, trying to become your own person with your own original ideas, 2) feedback is not the same at this level of education; don’t expect to get much feedback, at least not during the process of learning—only at the end, in the form of a few words and a grade. I know this sounds very grim and discouraging, and I know this is not the case for every class/every program, but this has been my experience. But instead of feeling bitter about this, I decided to reach out to peers, and that has been a more positive experience. Still, with this second paper, my ideas were met with much opposition; most people just did not buy into my argument. I do not blame them. I was in such a chaotic state (in my head), that I could not think very clearly, let alone try to articulate everything in person in words. I felt so defeated, I ended up withdrawing internally, and I struggled through this paper, unconvinced of my own ideas initially.

I wrote a total of three versions of this paper, before submitting a final 3-page version that I was almost proud of (because I went with my gut/heart) but also uncertain about (in terms of how it would be received by my reader, who is also my evaluator). In the end, I told myself that the grade would not matter, because I persevered and I learned. I struggled, I cried a lot, I doubted myself more than once, I made myself vulnerable and shared my frustrations with people I trusted, I did a reality check, I started over, I did not look back, I moved forward, I wrote something, I revised, I wrote some more, I revised some more, and I finished the paper.

So I’m devoting this blog entry to the process of writing an academic paper—a process that involves risk-taking, which is not comfortable, but is valuable. It is a process that pushes you and actually allows you to achieve a state of clarity at the end. I look back on this paper now and I smile. I have many, many other papers to write, which feels daunting at the present moment; however, I know I can do it, because I have done it before, and it will only get easier and more comfortable because I already went through the initial stage of discomfort.

So without further ado, I first share with you the final product of this process. Enjoy!

Interrogating a Master-Narrative in “An Education”:
Problematizing Binaries, Female Subject Identities, and Covert Oppression

The film “An Education” (Posey & Scherfig, 2009) has at its core the message that a young woman can get an education from school and from life experiences. While both shape Jenny’s identity, the film posits that the kind received through schooling is more legitimate than the free-spirited kind from life embraced by David. The film also lays out two contrasting paths for Jenny’s social advancement—either strive for a prestigious education or marry a wealthy suitor (read: man). Thus, embedded in the master-narrative are binaries, a normalized view of “educated,” and a perpetuation of the limited possibilities for women. In this essay, aspects of feminist theories and dis(ability) studies (DS) will be utilized to interrogate the production of binaries and subject identities, and present a more nuanced view of the film’s master-narrative.   

What appears on the surface to be an empowering story is a rather problematic one when viewed through a poststructuralist feminist lens. An alternative read poses two main problems. One, there is a binary view of women—the educated/uneducated, powerful/powerless, and independent/dependent—that perpetuates the myth of women as an “essentialized and fixed category” (Hendry, 2011, p. 14) . Two, the film gives the illusion of female empowerment and choice. The lack of diversity in femininities and absence of productive transgression of societal norms are concerning. There are essentially just two female subject identities. Helen—beautiful, wealthy, street-smart—who pursued passion instead of books, embodies the “uneducated” woman. Because her social position was not obtained through scholarly means, she is portrayed as an accessory to the men in her life and is powerless. By contrast, Jenny’s educators are book-smart, have degrees from high caliber institutions, and exemplify the “educated.” Both represent what Hendry (2011) calls “dutiful daughters [participating in a] pedagogy for patriarchy” (p. 17). These unmarried women are stereotyped as rational, sexless spinsters; they are masculinized but not in an empowering “third term” sense. Juxtaposed with these women, Jenny appears to break the mold as a more nuanced woman. For one, her desires and sexual identity do not neatly fit into the norms and hierarchies espoused by society; while she engages in sexual activity with David, her true romance is with his lifestyle. This would have made for a promising counter-narrative with Jenny exercising masculine femininity and repositioning herself as the dominant subject and David as the vector by which she fulfills her life desires; however, the film does not further pursue this “rebellion narrative” (Hendry, 2011, p. 24). Rather, her sexual exploration results in a sort of punishment via betrayal of love that ends with her pursuing private coaching from a teacher who had disparaged her sexual, flippant way of life. Jenny’s narrative is, thus, reduced to a binary-laden one that is repackaged as female liberation; her emancipation, I argue, is actually her succumbing to the path for social mobility that remained in view. The coaching provided by her teacher can also be read as the institution of schooling regulating the body of a schoolgirl caught transgressing. Jenny exchanges a life of passion and sexual expression for a life of books in the “domain of men” (Hendry, 2011, p. 16). There is no third narrative, such as a co-existence of romantic and intellectual pursuits. In all of these ways, the film portrays a rather disempowering view of women, which is uncharacteristic of a true pro-women narrative. 

Using a DS framework to unpack the assumptions further problematizes binaries and reveals that “disability is not a singular or universal experience” (Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 115). David deliberately hides his lack of formal schooling in order to maintain his social standing and respectability in Jenny’s parents’ eyes. Ferri and Connor (2010) would argue that his actions are to “maintain a certain degree of control…challenging hegemonic notions of ability, intelligence, and success” (p. 111) in the presence of Jenny, who poses a “threat of ableism” (p. 110) with her private schooling and book-smarts. David is cast as Jenny’s foil; her “right” path through schooling to gain access to “codes of power” (Delpit, as cited in Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 112) is the virtuous way, whereas his “degree from the university of life” is criminal and amoral. Though both are smart, one form of intelligence (as measured by book learning and exam scores) is culturally valued more than others (Leonardo & Broderick, 2011). David achieves (through alternative means) a privileged life associated with the educated, but next to Jenny’s “abled” existence, he is still the “disabled” one, as he was not educated in the normative sense. Thus, being “educated” has little to do with innate ability and potential (Leonardo & Broderick, 2011) and more to do with having “access to resources and privileges” (Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 115). Jenny’s stable, middle-class family structure gave her certain early-life advantages likely not provided to David, whose childhood social structures probably shaped his distinctive outlook on schooling and social mobility (Brantlinger, 2006; McDermott & Raley, 2008). He passes for an educated man primarily because of his ostentatious display of social and cultural capital but loses this “abled” status and respect when his “disability” is made visible. This supports how disability is both socially constructed and “a function of social class” (Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 115).

It is not uncommon for films to project binary views of education; they are easy to grasp, but this makes them problematic, too, for they erase a great deal of diversity and complexity. Watching the film the first time, I thought it was educational and even empowering. A second viewing through these lenses, however, exposed its superficial pro-women sentiments and frequent oppressive narratives. I am now more wary of jumping on the “female empowerment” train as soon as there is a strong female lead, as feminist claims are often overused, frequently misused, and sometimes even abused in popular culture. Moreover, I found myself considering intersectionality asking, “How would Jenny’s access to educational opportunities be different had she been from a working-class family of color? Would her intelligence alone be sufficient to get her to Oxford?” Such a read would also problematize notions of meritocracy in the film.

References

Brantlinger, E. (2006). Winners need losers: The basis for school competition and hierarchies. In Who Benefits from Special Education? Remediating (Fixing) Other People’s Children (pp. 197–231). Mahwah, N.J: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

Ferri, B. A., & Connor, D. J. (2010). ‘I was the special ed. girl’: urban working‐class young women of colour. Gender and Education, 22(1), 105–121.

Hendry, P. M. (2011). Engendering curriculum history. In Engendering curriculum history (pp. 11–30). New York: Routledge.

Leonardo, Z., & Broderick, A. A. (2011). Smartness as Property: A Critical Exploration of Intersections Between Whiteness and Disability Studies, 113(10), 2206–2232.

McDermott, R., & Raley, J. D. (2008). “The tell-tale body.” The constitution of disabilities in schools. In W. Ayers, T. M. Quinn, & D. Stovall (Eds.), Handbook of Social Justice in Education (pp. 431–445). New York, UNITED STATES: Taylor & Francis Group.

Posey, A. (Producer), & Scherfig, L. (Director). (2009). An Education [DVD]. United Kingdom: Sony Pictures Classics.

Quick debrief regarding areas of improvement and suggestions:

• Here was the written feedback I received: “I really appreciated the focus of your argument, the depth of your analysis and the originality of your thought.“

• Something I have gotten used to is succinct feedback. With regards to the paper itself, there were no margin notes/feedback (which I had received on my first paper). Praise is limited and not something to be expected, although something I very much appreciate when I do receive it. Usually, feedback is meant to be constructive, to help you improve as a writer and critical thinker; it is not meant to be feel-good. Or at least, that has been my experience so far, and I am trying not to take it personally. “It is to be expected at this level of education” is what I have been told.

Now that you’ve read the final product, below I’m revealing to you the drafts prior to this finalized version of the paper. The very first draft, which was completed by midnight, followed by the second draft written the next morning and throughout the day (I spent many, many hours on this second draft), followed by the final draft, written up a few days later, incorporating feedback from a peer reviewer. These have not been edited in any way, because I want to give you the inside view of my process of writing, which is an emotion-filled process that involves a lot of rewriting, rethinking, restructuring of arguments, stream-of-consciousness-type thinking, jotting down of random thoughts, and weaving together fragments. Something that helps me personally is physically printing out drafts and taking pen to paper to revise. This involves plenty of cross-outs, arrowing, circling of blocks, and hand-writing alternative sentences—basically, I’m performing surgery on my paper. I find that I can think more clearly and see the big picture better when I lay out my paper on my desk as opposed to editing it on my laptop. When I have my annotated copy ready, I move to my laptop and type up the revisions. I leave the paper alone for a day, and I return the next day to my paper draft, print it out, and continue revising using pen and paper. I do this with all of my drafts, and I have, on average, three to four drafts per paper. When I reach the “final draft” phase, I then return to my laptop for the final tweaks.

This last phase involves trimming the paper down to meet the page limit. The most drastic cut I have made so far is from a nine page paper (first draft) down to a three page one (final draft). I promise you; it is possible! I will be sharing that paper in the coming weeks. It is also during this last phase when find clever ways of reducing the word count, such as by turning nouns into verbs and finding more succinct transition words/phrases. Every line matters, so I make sure that “window/orphan control” is unchecked, so that I maximize space on each page (so that a random line doesn’t move to the next page, thereby increasing my page limit)! If you have NO idea what I’m talking about, google this phrase and it may be a time-saver for you!

As you can see, the process is quite involved. My professor obviously had no idea of the journey I went on with this paper, but I do, and that is most important. The journey is for me; the final product is for the professor. Ultimately, you get some feedback, along with a grade. To say that the grade doesn’t matter to me would be dishonest; however, I have learned that this invisible journey, and the risk-taking along the way, is way more important, as it was for me and me alone.

Very First Paper Draft in Its Original “Raw State” (Sent to My Peer Reviewer)

The film “An Education” (2009) has at its core the message that a young woman can get her education from school as well as from experiencing life outside of the classroom walls. From the viewer’s omnipresent perspective, both prepare her for adulthood in some way and shape her identity along the way. Embedded in this storyline, however, are many contrasting assumptions about schooling, success, and the notion of “educated” that pertain to a rigid way of thinking by the various characters. In this essay, aspects of queer theory/pedagogy and Michel Foucault’s ideas will be utilized to re-examine the main character’s initial assumptions about the value/promise of schooling and the legitimacy of a formal education.

The main figure is 16-year old Jenny, a pretty and precocious teenager living what she perceives to be a mundane life in suburban London with her white middle-class parents. Both she and her parents see that the goal of obtaining an education is to fulfill a certain need. In other words, for them, an education is a means to an end—one that offers a better chance at achieving success and the life one wants. Related to that is their understanding that to be educated is to have an education obtained through formal schooling. As such, Jenny’s parents emphasize schoolwork over social interactions with boys in an effort to keep their daughter focused on her projected path to Oxford. Jenny is bored of school, finding the work repetitive, but she endures it, believing that her education will ultimately give her the life she wants. Thus, she cannot wait for “life to begin” after she makes it to Oxford and receives her prestigious education. She is well on her way when an older man’s life entangles with hers and another (more attractive) way of life is made possible with little academic effort.

Through a queer theory lens, Jenny’s life is characterized by binaries. For one, she finds herself straddling two forms of education—the official and the unofficial—the formal kind within the confined walls of her private school and the potentially threatening/risky kind from “the university of life” that is shunned by her headmistress and favorite teacher at school. Jenny is simultaneously caught along the unsettling margins of two extreme worlds—that of the dutiful, innocent, virginal schoolgirl doing Latin homework and studying for university exams and that of the self-assured, sophisticated, worldly woman who is well-versed in French, smoking cigarettes and attending classical music concerts with David, the much older man. The former is the one that society values and deems proper for a promising 16 year old lady on her way to Oxford; yet, the way Jenny sees it, it is a fully paved road that is regimented, predictable, asexual, and frankly, awfully boring. By contrast, the latter represents the glamorous, mysterious adult life she yearns for beyond schooling, one within reach through David yet so far away by the traditional path; this world is one that satisfies both her sexual appetite and her romance with the unknown.

Jenny’s experiences do not neatly conform to the heteronormativity espoused both by her school and by society. Within the confines of her private school, there is no space for sexual expression or exploration, only strictly intellectual pursuits. While she engages in sexual activity with David, her true romance is with the exciting, enriching, and at times transgressive life he leads. In this way, her attraction to David is at odds with a conventional heterosexual relationship—the kind that is foundational to the society in which she is a part—and thus her experiences ruin the “neat arrangements” (Luhmann, p. 123) of society. Jenny’s sexual identity is not static and thus cannot be categorized because there is a disconnect between the role she plays (the girlfriend) and who she is (a curious and imaginative adolescent girl desperately seeking liberation and a platform to be taken seriously). Even though Jenny accepts David’s proposal of marriage, this act can be interpreted as her way of gaining permanent access to the life she fantasizes about without formal schooling. Thus, David is not the object of her desire but rather the vector by which she fulfills that desire, at least temporarily. Furthermore, while navigating her constantly in-flux identity, Jenny is fully cognizant of how negatively she is perceived by those conforming to normative social practices. Yet, she actively refuses the label of “ruined” by her “deviant” actions at a time when it was considered a shame and waste of talent for an intelligent young woman to choose to get married early in life instead of going to university. In this way, she is exercising her ignorance as “an opposition to knowing…a desire not to know” (Luhmann, 1998, p. 127).

Both David’s life trajectory and Jenny’s counternarrative blur the line between the official and the unofficial forms of education, and thus, complicate the assumption that to be “educated” is to have had formal schooling. Even with her traditional schooling consisting of readings of enduring classics, Jenny is no more immune to the betrayal of love and deception of a life of luxury. Likewise, despite his lack of formal schooling, David manages to entices Jenny’s strict, protective parents with his suave manner of speaking, polished demeanor, refined taste in music and wines, and supposed far-reaching connections. He lives the glamorous life of an “educated” man—one that Jenny’s parents desires for her, believing that David will be able to provide her with social and economic advantages without the hard work and monetary investment of an Oxford education.

That leads to another assumption in the movie—the notion that for young women, a traditional education received in the classroom (even though it may be hard work and boring at times) is a means to an end. A queer pedagogy perspective embraced by Luhmann provides more nuances to this otherwise static and naïve view. Re-examining Jenny’s story, it is her active negotiations of her identity through trial-and-error with David and her disillusioned experiences in the world outside of school that cured her hunger for the glamorous adult life she had envisioned. Without breaking away from “reading straight” (Sumara & Davis, p. 202) in school and from the rigid way to go about her education, Jenny would not have had the alternate life perspectives or the new forms of knowledge that became available to her from an “outside education.” After being refused re-admission to her school, she pursues private coaching, studies diligently on her own for her exams and ultimately makes it to Oxford. Jenny’s expanded worldview and new thoughts on education came from “refus[ing] certain identifications” and from the process of making herself “through and against others” (Luhmann, 1998, p. 130). By the end of the movie, Jenny sees that an education is a part of a journey of growth and expansion of one’s thinking, not just a destination.

Foucault thoughts (my second lens)

I’m not getting anywhere here! :( My mind is an absolute mess.

 Critiquing Jenny’s assumption that education is a means to an end—a way of obtaining power, status, wealth, prestige, or social success. Discuss that power is not something to be had or acquired but that is exists everywhere but may not be visible. Show that Jenny recognizes her own power when she escapes the highly disciplined and organized manner of learning in school. Through a Foucauldian lens, we see in this instance a case of power circulating; what used to be power in the form of prohibitive and controlling schooling (in Jenny’s eyes) is now power in the form of Jenny exercising agency and resistance in her newfound freedom (Foucault, 1979). Still, when she chooses a life with David over a life in school, this choice is shaped by another form of power/knowledge that is embodied by David’s network, wealth, and social skills that Jenny desires. Thus, as liberated and powerful as she may feel, she is not outside of the “web of power.”

 Critiquing assumption that “educated” means having had formal schooling, as opposed to learning from experiencing life. Consider: how is an educated person produced in society? In what ways do schools and universities make visible the educated person? From a Foucauldian perspective, there is no objective educated person. It is a socially constructed notion that is made more visible and hence more powerful through a set of knowledge associated with being educated….

Implications/Consequences

(I completely realize this is not fitting with my argument… what IS my argument? I feel I have 3 different storylines in this one essay and I’m not sure what story I really want to tell…nothing makes sense anymore. I should start from scratch.)

Jenny’s and her parents’ initial view of education is that it is a means to an end and does not have value on its own. The consequences of maintaining this view is that a person will never dig deeper into issues and ideas and only achieve surface understanding. Since this person sees education in a highly practical manner—including as a way of gaining power and status—this person will likely not go beyond the minimum asked to learn for the sake of knowledge. By contrast, the belief upheld by the school’s headmistress and Jenny’s teacher is that education is for the sake of life-long learning and broadening of horizons. The implications of adopting this more idealistic perspective is that a person may take up a less prominent, prestigious social position, have less material wealth, and might be taken less seriously by those who do not share this viewpoint of education.

These two contrasting viewpoints are encapsulated by other noteworthy movies. A famous exchange in Good Will Hunting comes to mind: “Are you going to plagiarize the whole thing for us or do you have any thoughts of your own on this matter?... You dropped 150 grand on an education you could have gotten for $1.50 in late charges at the public library.” “Yeah, well, I will have a degree and you’ll be serving my kids fries at a drive-through on our way to a ski trip.” “Maybe, but at least I won’t be unoriginal.”

It is not uncommon for popular culture to project these binary views of education and schooling, as it reflects the many binary divisions in our society. Re-examining the main character’s assumptions about education through queer theory has challenged me to elaborate on both narratives and to think about ways in they intersect to open up alternative ways of thinking about education….

My Second Draft Written the Next Day (Before Receiving Peer Feedback)

NOTE: I ended up using two different lenses (poststructural feminist lens and a dis/ability study framework) to make my argument. I actually had an argument in this second draft! In the original paper, I was trying to use Foucault’s ideas, along with a Queer Theory framework. Neither worked out for me.

The film “An Education” (2009) has at its core the message that a young woman can get an education from school as well as from experiencing life outside of the classroom walls. While the film shows that both shape 16-year old Jenny’s identity and prepare her for womanhood in some way, it posits that an education received via formal schooling is ultimately more valuable and legitimate compared to the free-spirited kind from life. David, an older man who offers her a glamorous life with little academic effort, embodies the latter form of life education. Additionally, with a focus on Jenny’s story, the film lays out two contrasting paths for a young woman’s social advancement in the 1960s—either strive for a formal (and prestigious) education or find a wealthy suitor (read: man) and marry up. Thus, embedded in the master-narrative are narrowly-defined binaries, a socially constructed normalized view of “educated,” and a maintenance of the limited potential/possibilities for women. In this essay, aspects of feminist post-structuralism (?) and dis(ability) studies (DS) will be utilized to critique these assumptions about education, interrogate the production of subject identities, and expand on the filmmakers’ rigid way of thinking about both.

The filmmakers’ protagonist is Jenny, a pretty and precocious teenager living what she perceives to be a mundane life in suburban London. She attends a private school financed by her white middle-class parents, who see (formal) education is a means to an end—one that offers social mobility for their daughter. This is not the view of education adopted by Jenny’s headmistress and female teacher; they view education as a form of empowerment for young women, a way to be liberated from men, and to have one’s own independent life. Consequently, they find it shameful for Jenny to choose to choose marriage over attending university. In this context, the film details the internal struggles of Jenny as she is caught along the unsettling margins of two different worlds—that of the dutiful, virginal schoolgirl doing Latin homework and studying for university exams and that of the sophisticated woman, attending classical music concerts with David, sipping champagne, and traveling to Paris. The former is what is expected of her and the latter is what she openly desires. In the end, after experiencing love’s betrayal and disillusionment of the “other” life, Jenny gets back on her feet and is shown “back on track” as  an educated woman claiming success through her own means, apart from David.

What appears on the surface to be an empowering story for an audience of young women is a rather problematic one when viewed through feminist theoretical lenses. Three main problems arise from such an alternative read. One, there is a binary view of women—the educated/uneducated, powerful/powerless, and the independent/dependent. Two, while there is no shortage of women in the film, the master-narrative perpetuates the myth of women as an “essentialized and fixed category” (Hendry, 2011, p. 14) . Three, as a result of these, the film gives the illusion of female empowerment and choice.

The film’s lack of diversity in representations of femininities and lack of room for productive transgression of societal norms are problematic. Two female subject identities are constructed in the film: the educated versus the uneducated. The “uneducated” woman is embodied by Jenny’s female foil Helen, who is beautiful, wealthy, street-smart, and who pursued passion instead of books. Her glaring anti-intellectualism is to the point of embarrassment at times in the film. Because her social position was not obtained through scholarly endeavors, she is portrayed as an accessory to the men in her life and is thus powerless. By contrast, the women educators at Jenny’s private school are book-smart, have degrees from high caliber institutions, and exemplify the “educated.” Through a feminist post-structuralist lens, both represent what Hendry (2011) calls “dutiful daughters” participating in a “pedagogy for patriarchy” (p. 17); both may be educated, but as a consequence of not complying with “the subject of men’s social and sexual power” (p. 23), these unmarried women are stereotyped in the movie as manly, sexless spinsters, The women are masculinized but in an oppressive sense rather than an empowering “third term” sense. Next to these contrasting views of women, Jenny appears to break the mold as a more nuanced woman..For one, her desires and sexual identity do not neatly fit into the norms and hierarchies espoused by society; while she engages in sexual activity with David, her true romance is with the exciting and enriching life he leads. This complexity would have made for a promising and empowering counternarrative with Jenny exercising masculine femininity and repositioning herself as the dominant subject and David as the vector by which she fulfills her life desires; however, the film does not further pursue this “rebellion narrative” (Hendry, 2011, p. 24). Rather, her sexual exploration results in a sort of punishment via betrayal of love. We learn that David is already married, and although he says he will get a divorce, Jenny shuts the door to that nuanced life with the fear of being seen as “ruined” and thus opts for a purely intellectual route devoid of sexuality. Jenny’s complex narrative is reduced to a simple binary-laden on that is repacked as female liberation. Through this lens, her emancipation by the end of the movie is actually her succumbing to the path that remained in view, with marriage out of the question. Yes, Jenny makes it to Oxford, but this was partly made possible through private coaching provided by her teacher (who, prior had disparaged her sexual, flippant way of life). Thus, what looks like a strong woman helping another find her way back on her own two feet through “proper education” can also be read as the institution of schooling regulating the life and body of a schoolgirl caught transgressing (Jenny was exploring her sexual identity). Though both the headmistress and teacher are female, their practice of excluding “ruined” schoolgirls falls in line with the oppression of women by those in dominant positions. They do so by valuing the rational over the emotional, and the woman’s mind over her body instead of dissolving the hierarchies of these binaries. Jenny ultimately gives up a life of passion and sexual expression for a life of books in the “domain of men” (Hendry, 2011, p. 16). The film provides no third narrative, such as a co-existence of romance and intellectual pursuits. In all of these ways, the film portrays a rather disempowering view of women, which is uncharacteristic of a true pro-woman narrative.  

Using a DS framework to further unpack the assumptions about paths for social mobility and what constitutes an “educated” person further problematizes binaries and complicates the master narrative. There were several occasions in the film when David deliberately hides his lack of formal schooling in order to maintain his social standing and respectability in Jenny’s parents’ eyes. Jenny, with her private schooling and book-smarts, poses a “threat of ableism” (Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 110). Ferri and Connor would argue that David’s actions are his way of “maintain[ing] a certain degree of control…challenging hegemonic notions of ability, intelligence, and success” (p. 111). Like Helen, David is cast as Jenny’s foil; Jenny’s “right” or “regular” path of social mobility through formal education is seen as the virtuous way, whereas David’s alternative, non-traditional path is portrayed as criminal and amoral in the film. Jenny’s scholarly path is lauded, but David’s “degree” from what he calls the “university of life” is treated critically in the film. This is not surprising as “college is seen as the stepping stone to a better life” (p. 112)—to gain access to what Delpit (1996) calls “codes of power” (as cited by Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 112). Though both Jenny and David are intelligent and clever in their own ways, one form of intelligence (as measured by book learning and examination marks) is valued more than others (social skills, emotional intelligence). David’s “uneducated” status is socially constructed and his differential perception and treatment by the parents plays out only when his perceived “disability” is made visible to them (through Jenny revealing the truth about his past). What the DS lens reveals is that “disability is not a singular or universal experience” (p. 115). Although David has achieved a privileged life of wealth, next to Jenny’s “abled” existence, David is the “disabled” one, as he is not intelligent/educated in the normative sense of both words. Thus, being “educated” has little to do with innate ability and potential and more to do with having “access to resources and privileges” (p. 115). Jenny’s private schooling, made possible by her parents’ middle-class status gave her certain early-life advantages likely not provided to David. Her stable and supportive family life afforded her a nurturing environment that likely shaped her as a can-do, gifted young woman. By contrast, much of David’s early life story remains elusive in the film. This has the consequence of making it easy for the viewer to blame him for his non-normative outlook on and different approach to life instead of analyzing the environment and questioning the social structures around his life (McDermott & Raley, 2008, p. 435). Whatever his story, we know that he was forced to seek alternative routes (outside of schooling) to a successful life that required him to be clever in other ways (by cultivating other forms of intelligence). David passes for an educated, abled man primarily because of his ostentatious display of social and cultural capital. This goes to show how “disability is in part a function of social class” (p. 115).

It is not uncommon for popular culture to project binary views of education and schooling, as it reflects the many apparent binary divisions in our society. Binaries are easy to grasp, but this makes them problematic too, for they erase a great deal of diversity and complexity. I now realize how even a highly rated (95% on Rotten Tomatoes!) movie with a fantastic cast can be a place for some serious scholarly critique. Naïve of me, I used to largely think of movies as feel-good, harmless entertainment with an occasion good lesson built in here and there. Watching this movie the first time, it was an “educational” movie in the shallow sense of the word, even an “empowering” one for girls according to my fiancé. As I write this paper, however, I’m making room for alternative reads that expose the movie’s at most superficial pro-women sentiments and a potential non-inclusive schooling narrative.  I did not realize how many alternative reads there can be of a seemingly straightforward movie. As a consequence of these interrogations, I am now more mindful of what is not stated explicitly in media meant to “entertain,” what side stories would complicated a binary construction, and how the absence of narratives can be as revealing as the presence of some. Furthermore, I am more wary of jumping on the “female empowerment!” train as soon as there is a strong female character. Feminist claims are frequently overused, often misused, and sometimes even abused in popular culture. If I were permitted a third or even fourth lens, I would be adopting a critical race theory lens and asking, “Where are the students of color in the movie? Why are their narratives excluded?” From a neo-Marxist perspective, I would also ask, “How would Jenny’s fairytale ending be different had she been from a working class family? Would her intelligence have been sufficient to get her to Oxford? Would her access to educational opportunities be limited because of her social standing?” Among other effects, these viewpoints would problematize the ideology of meritocracy upheld in the movie.

My Third/Final Draft Written a Few Days Later (Incorporating Peer Feedback)

NOTE: I was happy with this final draft; however, it was a page too long. Trimming off more than a dozen lines from this final draft was very challenging; I ended up having to pick and choose supporting evidence, and reworking parts of my argument. At least a few hours was spent doing just this, which was frustrating if you are sleep-deprived. Having said that, I think this process was valuable for me, as it forced me to think about my MAIN argument and to find the KEY supporting details, while removing redundant thoughts and sentences that are nice but are not compelling for my argument.

The film “An Education” (2009) has at its core the message that a young woman can get an education from school as well as from experiencing life outside of the classroom walls. While the film shows that both shape 16-year old Jenny’s identity and prepare her for womanhood in some way, it posits that an education received via formal schooling is ultimately more valuable and legitimate compared to the free-spirited kind from life embodied by David, an older wealthy man. Additionally, the film lays out two contrasting paths for a young woman’s social advancement in the 1960s—either strive for a formal (and prestigious) education or find a wealthy suitor (read: man) and marry up. Thus, embedded in the master-narrative are narrowly-defined binaries, a socially constructed normalized view of “educated,” and a perpetuation of the limited potential/possibilities for women. In this essay, aspects of feminist theories and dis(ability) studies (DS) will be utilized to critique these assumptions about education, interrogate the production of subject identities, and expand on the filmmakers’ rigid way of thinking about both.

The filmmakers’ protagonist is Jenny, a precocious teenager living what she perceives to be a mundane life in suburban London. She attends a private school financed by her white middle-class parents, who see (formal) education as a means to an end—one that offers social mobility for their daughter. This is not the view of education adopted by Jenny’s headmistress and female teacher; they view education as a form of empowerment for young women, a way to be liberated from men, and to have one’s own independent life. Consequently, they find it shameful for Jenny to choose marriage over attending university. In this context, the film details the internal struggles of Jenny as she is caught along the unsettling margins of two different worlds—that of the schoolgirl (what is expected of her) and that of the sophisticated woman (what she openly desires).

What appears on the surface to be an empowering story for an audience of young women is a rather problematic one when viewed through feminist theoretical lenses. Three main problems arise from such an alternative read. One, there is a binary view of women—the educated/uneducated, powerful/powerless, and the independent/dependent. Two, while there is no shortage of women in the film, the master-narrative perpetuates the myth of women as an “essentialized and fixed category” (Hendry, 2011, p. 14) . Three, as a result of the above, the film gives the illusion of female empowerment and choice.

The film’s lack of diversity in representations of femininities and lack of room for productive transgression of societal norms are problematic. Two female subject identities are constructed in the film: the educated versus the uneducated. The “uneducated” woman is embodied by Jenny’s female foil Helen, who is beautiful, wealthy, street-smart, and who pursued passion instead of books. Because her social position was not obtained through scholarly endeavors, she is portrayed as an accessory to the men in her life and is thus powerless. By contrast, the women educators at Jenny’s private school are book-smart, have degrees from high caliber institutions, and exemplify the “educated.” Through a feminist post-structuralist lens, both represent what Hendry (2011) calls “dutiful daughters” participating in a “pedagogy for patriarchy” (p. 17); these unmarried women are stereotyped in the movie as manly, rational, sexless spinsters. The women are masculinized but not in an empowering “third term” sense. Next to these contrasting views of women, Jenny appears to break the mold as a more nuanced woman. For one, her desires and sexual identity do not neatly fit into the norms and hierarchies espoused by society; while she engages in sexual activity with David, her true romance is with the exciting and enriching life he leads. This complexity would have made for a promising and empowering counternarrative with Jenny exercising masculine femininity and repositioning herself as the dominant subject and David as the vector by which she fulfills her life desires; however, the film does not further pursue this “rebellion narrative” (Hendry, 2011, p. 24). Rather, her sexual exploration results in a sort of punishment via betrayal of love (David is already married). Consequently, Jenny shuts the door to that nuanced life with the fear of being seen as “ruined” and thus opts for an intellectual route to social advancement. Jenny’s complex narrative is reduced to a simple binary-laden one that is repackaged as female liberation; her emancipation by the end of the movie is actually her succumbing to the path that remained in view, with marriage to David out of the question. Yes, Jenny makes it to Oxford, but this was partly made possible through private coaching provided by her teacher (who, prior had disparaged her sexual, flippant way of life). Thus, what looks like a strong woman helping another find her way back through “proper education” can also be read as the institution of schooling regulating the life and body of a schoolgirl caught transgressing. Jenny exchanges a life of passion and sexual expression for a life of books in the “domain of men” (Hendry, 2011, p. 16). The film provides no third narrative, such as a co-existence of romance and intellectual pursuits. In all of these ways, the film portrays a rather disempowering view of women being stuck, which is uncharacteristic of a true pro-women narrative.  

Using a DS framework to further unpack the also problematizes binaries and complicates the master-narrative. David deliberately hides his lack of formal schooling in order to maintain his social standing and respectability in Jenny’s parents’ eyes. Jenny, with her private schooling and book-smarts, poses a “threat of ableism” (Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 110). Ferri and Connor (2010) would argue that David’s actions are his way of “maintain[ing] a certain degree of control…challenging hegemonic notions of ability, intelligence, and success” (p. 111). Like Helen, David is cast as Jenny’s foil; Jenny’s “right” or “regular” path of social mobility through formal education is seen as the virtuous way, whereas David’s alternative “degree from the university of life” (timestamp) is portrayed as criminal and amoral in the film. This is not surprising as college is frequently regarded as a means to gain access to “codes of power” (Delpit, as cited by Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 112). Though both Jenny and David are smart in their own ways, one form of intelligence (as measured by book learning and examination marks) is culturally valued more than others (Leonardo & Broderick, 2011, p. 2226). David’s “uneducated” status is socially constructed and his differential perception and treatment by others play out only when his “disability” is made visible (through Jenny revealing the truth about his lack of schooling. What the DS lens reveals is that “disability is not a singular or universal experience” (Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 115). Although David has achieved a privileged life of wealth, next to Jenny’s “abled” existence, David is the “disabled” one, as he is not smart/educated in the normative sense of both words. Thus, being “educated” has little to do with innate ability and potential (Leonardo & Broderick, 2011) and more to do with having “access to resources and privileges” (Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 115). Jenny’s private schooling and stable family structure gave her certain early-life advantages likely not provided to David, whose childhood environment and social structures likely shaped his different outlook on schooling and social mobility (McDermott & Raley, 2008, p. 435). David passes for an educated, abled man primarily because of his ostentatious display of social and cultural capital but loses this status when he is “exposed” as an imposter. This goes to show how “disability is in part a function of social class” (Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 115).

It is not uncommon for popular culture to project binary views of education and schooling. Binaries are easy to grasp, but this makes them problematic too, for they erase a great deal of diversity and complexity. I now realize how even a highly rated (95% on Rotten Tomatoes!) movie with a fantastic cast can be a place for some serious scholarly interrogation. Watching it the first time, it was an “educational” movie in the shallow sense of the word, even an “empowering” one for girls according to my fiancé. As I write this paper, however, I am making room for alternative reads that expose the movie’s superficial pro-women sentiments and frequent exclusive, oppressive narrative. Furthermore, I am more wary of jumping on the “female empowerment” train as soon as there is a strong female character. Feminist claims are often overused, frequently misused, and sometimes even abused in popular culture. If I were permitted an additional lens, I would be adopting a critical race/whiteness studies lens and asking, “Where are the students of color in the movie? Why are their narratives excluded?” From a neo-Marxist perspective, I would also ask, “How would Jenny’s fairytale ending be different had she been from a working class family? Would her intelligence have been sufficient to get her to Oxford? Would her access to educational opportunities be limited because of her social standing?” Among other effects, these viewpoints would problematize the ideology of meritocracy upheld in the movie.