Kevin Gary

Sociologist Zygmunt Bauman characterizes our time as a time of “liquid modernity”. Rather than settled meanings, categories, and frames of reference Bauman contends that meaning is always in flux, open ended rather than closed. Given Bauman’s assessment, pedagogies that are directed towards finding, accepting, or imposing meaning come up short. They offer closed, ‘finished’ meanings instead of an examination of the ongoing, open ended, process of meaning making. What might a pedagogy for a liquid time look like? This is the animating question of this essay. Pedagogically we are interested in this ambiguous space between paradigms of meaning. Rather than resolution or the accommodation and building of new schema, we explore the need for constant schema building and renewal—the necessity of living in a state of perpetual emergence. Zygmunt Bauman’s notion of “liquid modernity” suggests that anomalies, rather than exceptions, are the norm; we are living with permanent uncertainty, needing to hold all schemes lightly

My concern in this essay is not so much with the invisible work or hidden labor produced by neoliberalism, but rather with what Joseph Pieper describes as an emerging culture of “total work”. More than the sheer number of hours of work, Pieper diagnoses a transformation in the way we view work. Work has become the exclusive point of reference for how we see and define ourselves. We are, Pieper feared, increasingly incapable of seeing beyond the working self. The human being has become the human worker. Historically, the ideal of leisure offered a counter vision to this tendency. Michael Oakeshott notes that while human beings must attend to the necessities for survival, they are most especially distinguished by their capacity for leisure—by an ability to pursue questions, conversations, and explorations that transcend the realm of production and consumption. To overlook and exclude leisurely pursuits is to diminish our humanity.

Phenomenologist Jean-Luc Marion describes our capacity for awe as an ability to recognise that certain phenomena are saturated. More than we constitute them with our categorical frames or organising objectives, the phenomena constitute us; their excess and givenness overwhelms our ability to fully grasp them. It is through this experience of awe and wonder, Marion suggests, that we are drawn into loving something or someone. In tension with this experience is the attempt (omnipresent in educational contexts) to organise and demarcate phenomenon (or fields of study) into a tidy list of coherent standards. This reductive move, while pedagogically pragmatic, risks masking the ‘exuberant splendor’ of saturated phenomenon, obscuring what initially drew teachers into their respective disciplines. What moves teachers (and students) to love a discipline, Marion suggests, is not standards, which are often instrumentally selected, but an experience of saturated phenomenon. More than standards, a teacher's deep and often secret hope is that her students love or at least appreciate her love for her subject. A teacher's love for her discipline, and her hope to impart it to her students, should stand in tension with the standards movement.