Learning the Lessons of Shame

Between me and my God There are only eleven commandments; The eleventh says: Thou shalt not Bury thy brother alive

At a meeting of the Educator Associates of the American Psychoanalytic Association, I suggested that Someone present a paper on shaming in the classroom. After some discussion, I asked the guy next to me, “Did I just volunteer to write that article?”

Shaming in the classroom. So ubiquitous an experience is it that, when I mentioned I was researching this subject, everyone had a story.

A psychoanalyst told me of being stood before his second grade class, while his teacher read his paper as an example of, in a word, stupidity.

A Jesuit told how his seventh grade teacher, a nun, stood him before the class and predicted a lengthy stay in purgatory for his sin of sloth, his tardiness.

I knew I was on to something.

The result, “The Ghost in the Schoolroom: A Primer in the Lessons of Shame”, is published in Schools: Studies in Education. (The article is also available through the Web site of the Journals Division at University of Chicago Press.) I will present this paper at a discussion group on Thursday and at a Saturday symposium during January's meeting of the American Psychoanalytic Association.

This article is informed by psychoanalytic theory, with special emphasis given to Sigmund Freud and Erik Erikson. The paper has two functions. I first explore the use of shaming in the classroom. I see this shaming within the context of a dyad, in which both the educator and student regress to an earlier stage of psychosocial development. My second emphasis calls for a realignment of teacher education, with more emphasis given to psychodynamic models, and less emphasis given to the cognitive/behavioral. My hope is that my article is a kind of translation from one teacher to another. I'm not an innovator. That work has been done by others. The article seeks to clarify and apply.

But the article began years before I even knew I had an article.

I always planned to go to work for the St. Louis Public Schools. Tenure, OK pay, good pension, nice medical and mental health benefits. It was a plan.

That and I wanted to help the poorest of the poor. I applied. I was asked to teach seventh grade English. I thought I knew what I was getting into.

Nothing prepared me for this. Nothing. Not 30 years of teaching. Not my doctorate.

Poverty. Homelessness. Violence. Malnutrition. Mental illness. A girl had a miscarriage in the sixth grade classroom. The year before I arrived, seven English teachers had quit, including the guy who lasted one day.

And discipline? My classes were chaotic. When I observed other teachers and administrators, shame was what they used. It seemed to work. So I used shaming for the same reason that teachers used to whip children—I just couldn't figure out what else to do.

The shaming process also struck some chord in me that only in therapy became apparent. I certainly could remember the times that, as a boy, I had been shamed and complied. But that exploration would take time.

In the meantime, Christopher just wouldn't shut up. I kept him from recess. “OK, young man, you want to play around in my class? Fine. Drop out. But before you go, I have one last English lesson for you, all the English you'll need for the rest of your sorry life. Repeat after me. “Would you like fries with that order?” He shuts-up. Good enough for me.

Thus did I continue. I came to be regarded as a strict disciplinarian.

Then there was Samantha. I called her father one day, and asked if we could discuss her behavior. We met outside my classroom. In order to rectify his daughter's misconduct, the father offered to beat her in front of my class. I politely declined. Samantha just hung her head.

I was shocked. But it was at this point that I realized how much like Samantha's father I had become. The fact that I was more restrained, more verbal, did not mean that my shaming was less painful.

I am the product of a conventional teacher education. Meaning that there is nothing in my training that helps me look into myself, to open myself to the full range of emotions, to ask about my motivations, to accept myself and all that continues to create me.

So I knew there was an article there somewhere. What I needed, as a writer, was a timeline, focus, and clarity.

The timeline came from the meeting. I wanted the article published by the next meeting.

Focus came in two parts. My wife, Phoebe Cirio, published an article on shaming and psychoanalytic training. Our discussions were invaluable. I also began studying child development at the St. Louis Psychoanalytic Institute.

The clarity, indeed lucidity, came from five years in psychodynamic psychotherapy. There were many positive outcomes from my therapy Among them, I'm a better teacher.

I don't want to portray myself as a saint. I've gained awareness, not perfection. That awareness, that attentiveness, that's what I wish to pass on to other teachers.

Parts of the above are taken from the original “Ghost in the Schoolroom.”