The Pedagogy of Creativity

Anna Herbert

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2010
• ISBN:
  9781136997747
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Bildung
• Subtopic: Bildung Allgemein

The Pedagogy of Creativity represents a groundbreaking study linking the pedagogy of classroom creativity with psychoanalytical theories. Taking a classroom-based example of poststructuralist methodology as its starting point, Anna Herbert's investigation explores the relationship between creativity seen in psychological activity, such as dreams, and creativity seen in the classroom, asking the following questions:

• What might a methodology which taps into different forms of creativity look like?

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• Could such a methodology support current neuropsychological theories of memory and learning?

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• What are the consequences of imaginary and symbolic orders of knowledge for the understanding of both conscious and unconscious creativity in the classroom?

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Exploring the ideas of a number of psychological analysts including Jacques Lacan's four discourses, concepts of 'the other' and the theories of Postructuralist thinkers including Levinas, Mead and Kristeva, Herbert explains how different theories can be used to develop creativity in the classroom and surmount obstacles preventing creative environments.

Clearly presenting both theoretical positions and their bearing on classroom practice, teachers at all levels will benefit from this innovative approach to creativity, as will school psychologists and all professionals interested in the links between psychoanalysis and pedagogy.

Herbert clearly communicates both theoretical positions and their bearing on classroom practice. Teacher at all levels will benefit from this innovative approach to creativity, as will school psychologists and other professionals interested in the links between psychoanalysis and pedagogy.

Chapter 1
Towards a poststructuralist pedagogy

Introduction

When I was at university studying psychology, one lecturer inspired me more than any other and sent me down the path of teaching. That same lecturer became my PhD supervisor ten years later. Parveen Adams had an unwavering belief in the power of students’ intellectual capacity (a characteristic of many great teachers), but this was perhaps not in and of itself as remarkable as the creativity she could unleash in a classroom – often shocking the unprepared students who had no idea of what might appear from the inner recesses of their minds during a classroom session. To add to the oddity of it, many students were at first reluctant to go to the classes, not because the content was uninteresting or the form was staid, but because of the complexity of the arguments produced, which were so far beyond us all that it left us feeling rather at a loss. However, we often felt we were in the presence of something great, witnessing the unfolding of a theory that might become world renowned and in which we might play a small part (Parveen was always generous in recognising any additions to her own work). In other words, however difficult the content, we did understand she was saying something important!

This frustrating situation initially caused anger. I had classmates who claimed they would never go to one of her lessons again after sitting dumbfounded throughout a 40-minute lecture of applied Lacanian theory. Then, after the third session, there seemed to be a slight ruffle underneath the surface of our struggling and bruised egos. Parveen would look up over her paper and ask a question about the film we had just seen (often a 50-year-old horror movie). Could we apply our theory? The classroom was silent and she would slowly wait for somebody brave enough to show their ignorance on the subject. The first tentative suggestion was often greeted with a nod or a smile, which led to a second attempt elsewhere in the classroom, and a third or a fourth, at which point somebody would say something quite outlandish out of pure exasperation, which would be followed by a deep silence. Not because of the outlandishness per se, but because it was the right form of outlandishness. The person (whoever it was) had managed to make an intelligent response without actually trying. There we have the first chapter of your PhD, Parveen would exclaim. And we all knew it to be true. This acted as a trigger – one strangely correct response after the next came, at first at a dribble and then a steady flow. We managed to make one amazing argument after the next and not a single one of us knew where it all came from other than that it was good work and our leader was standing in front of us like an orchestral conductor, whipping up a storm of creativity around her with seemingly no effort at all. After the session we would all feel strangely elated and simultaneously exhausted. We had been a part of something none of us had ever experienced before and most of us would probably never experience again. However, a small number of us tried to understand what had happened. For Parveen Adams had a technique, and while it might seem like magic, it was perfectly explicable and applicable to other situations of learning and creativity.

In the years that followed I was lucky to be one of Parveen’s graduates and to study her methodology so as to form my own way of reproducing the creativity I experienced in the classroom to use in my own research. Like most graduates I caused my supervisor a great deal of consternation, refusing to follow exact guidance and insisting on finding my own rather unorthodox ways to develop theories (though I did not understand this until many years after my thesis was published). Parveen persevered and allowed me to make my own mistakes (of which I am very thankful). Now that I have been lecturing in my own college for some time and have had the opportunity to try out my supervisor’s methodology with my own students (with varying results) I intend to put pen to paper and investigate the source of creativity inspired by Lacanian and Freudian theory. It is perhaps a rather daring project. I remember how I balked at doing anything with Lacan when Parveen first approached me with the possibility of working with Lacan’s Seminar VII. I was writing a thesis on PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) and resisted as far as I possibly could, relenting only after having produced my MSc based on empirical studies and a qualitative application of Freudian theory.

What might Lacanian theory add to our understanding of the creative process?

Most creativity research is currently carried out by cognitive psychologists. They study creativity in relation to motivation, personality, IQ, cognitive processes, cultural factors, genetic factors, psychopathological factors, family patterns and neurological factors. Freud claimed the creative process was almost impossible to understand (when considering people like Dostoyevsky and other well-acclaimed creative geniuses) – it was either result of defence mechanisms, such as sublimation, or daydreaming.

The source of creativity described in Parveen’s classroom would seem to be the unconscious (nobody could explain how or from where the creative answers emerged). In creativity research the involvement of primary (unconscious) processes is well established (even within cognitive research). These are considered to be part of a ‘processing phase’, after which an idea emerges (also described as the ‘aha experience’). However, details as to how these primary processes function are very few and far between (other than suggesting that opposites are merged in a variety of ways that would not normally be possible, or that the right hemisphere is in some way involved).

Lacan offers a more detailed insight into the unconscious processes leading to creativity. Where cognitive models point to ‘special’ creative personalities, or the necessity of certain levels of IQ for creative endeavour, Lacan points to a creativity residing within, which is not dependent on motivation, genetic inheritance, personality, socio-economic background, position in the sibling group, anxiety levels, or the like. There are no differences between the creative (unconscious) mechanisms of people, only differences in the amount and quality of signifiers (which can always be adjusted simply by involving oneself in activities that provide a source for more signifiers).

Dreams have always been used as a source of inspiration for creative endeavour. Freud claimed that dreaming is a complicated ‘intellectual’ activity that involves organising the cohesive segments of dream scenarios into a ‘story line’ (not at all like psychotic episodes). This is supported by current research on dreams. Leading roles are cast, props are created, backdrops to the dream are put in place, much like in the various acts of a theatre play. We might ask how the processes described above (i.e. the story teller) relate to the creativity unleashed in Parveen’s classroom – creative responses which at first seemed random but upon further inspection provided material for our thesis chapters (dealing with content which was far beyond the capacity of our conscious cognition at the time). Lacanian theory attempts to answer this question; addressing who or what is writing the play; what organising force causes us to play one or several major roles in a variety of scenarios, every night, several times a night for all of our lives (Freud focused on the message of the dream as opposed to the narrator).

Lacanian theory also enables an in-depth analysis of the importance of the ‘Other’ (as a person and as a source of language) in the creative process. We may, for instance, emerge from a lecture with the sense of something profound having happened (not necessarily connected to the conscious content of the lecture). We are no longer the same person who entered the lecture hall a few hours ago, we have been touched by the Other’s message. A fundamental shift in perspective or understanding has occurred, causing a change, but few of us can explain what. At times whole audiences can be affected by this experience.

There are times when we emerge from having given a lecture or lesson without any memory of what actually happened (similar to arriving at work in the morning but not being able to remember any details about the journey). Time collapses – we are there for the students, lecturing ‘out there with the Other’, caught by the gaze of a hundred eyes, yet somehow unaware of the audience or ourselves. We become the message we are conveying. After these lectures, students emerge elated, claiming that the lecture was amazing, or that they learnt something they had never understood before, and we (often completely exhausted and drained of energy) wonder what precisely we have done, wishing there had been a camera somewhere recording this lost hour. Lacanian theory offers a discourse with which to explain and understand these creative experiences, including theories of the body as well as savoir-faire (bodily knowledge).

Concepts and obstacles

There is really only one obstacle to an investigation into the processes described above, and this is Lacan’s language and use of concepts. Lacanian theory has often, and somewhat undeservedly, been given the reputation of being complex beyond the point of theoretical redemption, keeping a large part of the psychoanalytic community at bay with seemingly odd concepts, such as object a, borromean knots and the cloaking of psychic phenomena in mathematical formula. However, we must remember that these concepts, valuable as they may be to those who wish to maintain Lacan’s esoteric reputation (and there are many), are simply an expression of the philosophical concerns of the time.

Lacan belonged to a large group of French philosophers and artists who happily borrowed concepts from each other and entertained each other with witty near-mysticisms in an environment of intense creativity. Sartre, Simonne de Beauvoir, Camus and Merleau-Ponty are just a few of the people Lacan used to socialise and compete with for fame and fortune. In attempting to clarify Lacanian terminology I studied several of these philosophers, as well as Kojève’s reading of Hegel, which was very popular at the time (Lacan attended Kojève’s seminars and these had great influence on his development of theory). I also read Saussure, Lévi-Strauss, Heidegger and Freud.

The reading of these philosophers is by no means necessary to understand Lacan, but ten years ago I was determined to not only understand him, but to chart him back through his own philosophical readings as far as I could go (even reading some Aristotle, Descartes and Kant), and this determination served me well in understanding what Lacan was attempting to do with his odd terms and theories and how I might apply this to my own research on PTSD. I remember when outlining my thesis proposal to one of the professors at my department, his reaction was incredulity at my choice of theory. He asked me, quite honestly, what Lacan had ever brought to the world in terms of an explanation of psychological phenomena. Having spent four years on showing precisely what Lacanian theory might bring to the understanding of PTSD, I have set my sights on clarifying Lacanian concepts and theory, much to the frustration of my thesis supervisor who, belonging to the group of highly creative philosophers using Lacanian theory understood by few and revered by many, wanted me to follow in her footsteps. Here, I am afraid, I have been a great disappointment. But maybe one day I might tire of attempting to make Lacan accessible outside of psychoanalytic circles and write a paper which gets accepted in Lacanian Ink. I do, however, respect and understand the importance of ‘non-understanding’ in relation to creativity and will explain later what I mean by this.

I have found that Lacanian theory offers much to those of us willing to work through the theoretical jargon, and so I will attempt to discover not only the sources of creativity in Lacanian theory, but also the usefulness of Lacanian theory to teachers who wish to understand important aspects of their classrooms. Is there, for instance, a desire for knowledge, and if so, how might we enhance it and maintain it (if indeed it does need maintaining)? Does Lacanian theory imply the makings of a socially or individually based pedagogy? How might the role of the teacher be understood in the light of this theory? What is knowledge, according to Lacan? How might a teacher use a Lacanian theory of knowledge in the classroom? What might Lacanian theory tell us about the tendency of repetition in the classroom (i.e. sticking to certain truths whether or not they are good for us – this applies to teachers and students alike)? How might Lacanian theory help us to understand aggression in the classroom? What importance might Lacanian pedagogy (if any) have for the intercultural dimensions of the classroom? How might we understand the relations of power in a classroom using Lacanian theory? I will also present some of Lacan’s methodological devices for ensuring his readers’ and listeners’ unmitigated interest and creativity (i.e. those who did not turn away in frustration), as well as methods that I and other researchers in the field use in our daily work. But before we go on to look at the suggested areas described above, I will attempt to sketch out a theoretical background against which to understand Lacanian models and concepts, and in so doing, discuss and analyse Lacan’s theory of knowledge (conscious and unconscious). This theory hinges on the concepts of the ego and the subject.

A comparison between Freud’s and Lacan’s theory of consciousness

The man who searches deeply for the truth, and wishes to avoid being deceived by false leads, must turn the light of his inner vision upon himself.

(Boethius 2002 [523]: p. 61)

Lacan became a member of the first psychoanalytic society in France under the direction of Marie Bonaparte shortly after he had obtained his doctorate in psychiatry. He has often been called ‘the French Freud’, which is somewhat simplistic as his work borrows from many other thinkers. Lacan, however, did claim that his theories were based on a re-reading of Freudian theories, and therefore I will make an in-depth comparison between the two when discussing the subject, the ego and other central psychoanalytic concepts important to the investigation of the questions raised above. Both Lacan and Freud were physicians. In 1893 Freud discussed a group of patients suffering from motor paralysis which had no known neurological origin – the symptoms of paralysis were connected not to a real body, but to a constructed one. The paralysis of a hand, for instance, corresponded to a glove and not a physiological hand (i.e. represented a layperson’s view of what a hand is). This led Freud to realise the importance of the signifier and signification in relation to the body, but also to become aware of the importance of the unconscious in terms of inhibiting the normal physiological functioning of limbs. On remembering the original cause of paralysis the disability disappeared, which in turn led Freud to develop a ‘talking cure’, which at first took the shape of free association.

Freud likened free association to the creative process discussed by Schiller in a letter to a friend suffering from writer’s cramp. Schiller describes a flow that is enabled by circumventing self-critique. Freud later went on to discuss the source for this form of creativity in relation to dreams. Dreams, claimed Freud, were not chaotic – rather, they were lucid and followed a rationale, that of wish fulfilment, whether they be nightmares or otherwise. Freud concentrated on the message of the dream and how it could be interpreted. In a sleuth-like analysis he mercilessly investigated the clues held in his own dreams, laying out the logic of these, proceeding cautiously only when these became too sexual. Using the concepts of displacement and condensation in the description of the Wolfman’s dreams somewhat later, he discussed how ‘derivates’ of repressed wishes disguised themselves (a fox becoming a wolf, for instance, in the Wolfman’s dream) and slipped past the censor to the preconscious to emerge in the dream content. The dream was the royal road to the unconscious. This was about as much as could be said about the content of the unconscious as it was not accessible to conscious thought. All a therapist could do was observe patients and listen to their stories, both of dreams and of memories, to...