Psychoanalytic Studies, Vol. 3, No.

1, 2001

The Classroom and the Crucible:

considerations arising from the emergence of
unconscious anxiety in teaching and
professional learning

PAUL THOMPSON, University of East London

Introduction
This paper was evoked by some of my experiences in managing and delivering a
psychoanalytically informed, non-graduate Diploma in Social Work course. This was a
newly designed and newly validated course. I had held responsibility for course design
and had navigated it through the various stages of initial approval, planning and
validation. There was some optimism mixed with trepidation in commencing this course
on the part of the staff team and myself. Certainly within me, this began to turn into
anxiety that in its turn led to the experience of some form of hatred. It had been in my
mind to write in a re ective way about the anxiety that I had experienced, especially
since it seemed to mirror emotions arising from the student group. Mentally, I had begun
to formulate this into a model derived from Freud’s ideas of the negative therapeutic
reaction in psychoanalysis (1917), where what the analyst or therapist sets out to
positively offer the patient is somehow mangled up and destroyed. As the emotional
impact and experiences with this student group grew and persisted, I began to think more
in terms of the idea found in Winnicott (1947) of hatred in the counter-transference.
Here, what is evoked by the patient in the therapist is an experience of hatred based on
the patient’s own intolerable feelings. Underpinning these re ections was the backdrop
of Jung’s ideas of the shadow (1948), a disowned part of the self that contains the
unwanted and unacknowledged aspects of the personality. This seemed somehow
connected in my mind with what might be termed some of the structural issues which
students experienced—consciously or unconsciously—in terms of class, gender, disabil-
ity, race and sexuality. Hooks (1994) has discussed the importance of confronting issues
of class and race in the academic setting. Edwards (1999), Jennings (undated) and
Lipsky (undated) have suggested a model for how individuals from diverse groups can
experience these aspects of interaction in terms of an ‘internalized oppression’. Internal-
izing oppression consists of adopting patterns of oppressive behaviour as a survival
mechanism. Oppression or oppressive attitudes are in turn acted out upon the self or
against others, through various negative stereotypes or behaviour patterns destructive of
the self and others.
In working through the themes of this paper, the image was to emerge for me of the
classroom as a crucible of learning. A crucible was in its original meaning a night-lamp.
It then became used to describe an earthenware bowl that could withstand the intense
heat involved in melting metals. Later, the idea of a crucible was to emerge as a time
ISSN 1460-895 2 print/ISSN 1470-104 9 online/01/010023-19 Ó 2001 Taylor & Francis Ltd
DOI: 10.1080 /1460895002002683 6
24 P. Thompson

of trial (Oxford English Dictionary, 1991, p. 369). It seems to me that education

contained all these various elements: the illumination of moving from not knowing to
knowing; the heat generated through intellectual endeavour and emotional con ict; the
trial of working through con ict and the assessment of knowledge gained. The idea of
combining metals invokes recognition of the work of Jung (1956) exploring the
psychological meaning of mediaeval alchemy in transforming base metal into gold.
Taking this paper forward therefore represents my attempts to somehow combine or
make sense of these emotions and experiences. In doing so, it serves to further test out
the relevance of psychoanalytic ideas to the practice of teaching and learning, especially
in social work education. This represents a continuation of work pointed up by
Salzberger-Wittenberg et al. (1983) in their exploration of the emotional experience of
teaching and learning. An extension to that work here is that what is being taught on the
course referred to in this paper are psychoanalytic ideas, together with structural
approaches, in a student group which is remarkable for its cultural diversity. This is a
university that rates amongst the highest in the UK for the number of its students from
groups traditionally underrepresented in the sector.
Brown and Price (1999) explore a number of the teaching and learning implications
involved in the endeavour of teaching psychoanalysis to undergraduates in an academic
rather than clinical context. This paper seeks to continue such explorations although from
a slightly different perspective. The focus here is on preparation for professional
practice. At a functional level a further area of learning that might usefully emerge from
this study is some appreciation of the anxieties of a student group engaged on a
professionally qualifying course in social work, based in higher education.
Although this paper makes extensive use of case material, signiŽ cant details have been
modiŽ ed or obscured so as to preserve conŽ dentiality.

Background and Context

The earlier background to the stories told here is of students coming onto a course where
a previous intake had been halted as a result of an earlier, failed validation event. That
earlier validation event itself had occurred whilst a team was undergoing turmoil,
seeming to become engulfed in a range of negative ‘anti-task’ (Menzies-Lyth, 1988) or
‘anti-group’ (Nitsun, 1996) processes during a time of critical change in higher education
and to the social work profession.
The seriousness of that earlier state of negativity was expressed, symbolically and
actually, in the failure of the validation event. New course proposals had been presented,
but were rejected, resulting in the near closure of the social work course by both the
university and the professional awarding body—CCETSW, the Central Council for
Education and Training in Social Work. The reasons for non-validation were threefold.
First, not only was there a lack of expressed support for the proposals from the
external social work agencies who made up the course’s partnership, there was evidence
of complaints from partners about a lack of adequate and meaningful consultation about
course developments. It is a key requirement of the professional body that social work
education is taught, managed and provided in a working partnership between an
academic course and social service provider agencies
Second, formal representations by students to the professional awarding body had
been made about the behaviour of certain members of staff, including allegations of
favouritism and a divided staff team.
Third—and of less signiŽ cance than the above—there were some questions about
 The Classroom and the Crucible 25

whether the proposed course structure actually Ž tted in with the university’s regulatory
framework.
As a result of non-validation, the student intake for the next academic year had been
halted. The impending intake, all of whom had been offered places but none of whom
had yet commenced studies, were given automatic deferrals to the following year, by
which time either a successful validation event would need to have been held or, if not,
the subject area would have been effectively closed.
The shortfall in student numbers created a Ž nancial urgency to reduce the numbers in
the staff team. The requisite number of the team left as a result of voluntary redundancy
(including a senior manager), although if redundancies had not been voluntarily opted
for, a compulsory redundancy situation could have been created. The course tutor who
remained was required to put together a redevelopment plan as a matter of urgency in
order to resubmit new course proposals to ensure the long-term survival and regeneration
of the course.
It could be said that any student cohort would be anxious coming into this environ-
ment, although not all educational environments have had such troubled histories. It is
helpful to bear in mind therefore the range of troubled issues, personal and professional,
existing in most public sector organizations certainly in the UK (Obholzer and Roberts,
1995). The difference in the context under examination is that the staff team in the
organization here saw it as their role to keep emotional issues on the agenda. This was
partly to avoid a repetition of past difŽ culties internally, but also in order to prepare
students externally for the emotional turbulence in the social work world for which they
were training. As will be seen in the emergent case material, it was recognized that if
emotional issues are not visibly acknowledged, they are lingering and even festering
underground. The teaching team were all committed to re ecting on unconscious
dilemmas with students in a participatory way, owning some fundamental belief in this
as an intrinsically ‘good’ thing and indeed necessary for a rounded experience of
emotional education. As will be seen, however, this in turn takes an emotional toll on
both staff and students. There is a risk taken here by both sides that the burden may
prove intolerable. Educational ethics may indicate that staff have some work to do in
preparing students for the potential risks involved and thinking about how to support
them to bear this burden.

The University Environment and Professional Context

The university is a ‘new’ university located in a disadvantaged metropolitan region. Its
educational partnerships and validated courses extend outwards nationally and in some
cases, overseas. Its student body is drawn from some of the most diverse populations in
the country in terms of class, age, gender, race, ethnicity and religion. The London
boroughs in which the university is based rate amongst the highest in the indices for
poverty and social deprivation in the United Kingdom. The university prides itself on its
mission of accessibility to higher education, but also sees itself involved in the
development and regeneration of the locality. The university is committed to a student
experience of high quality, and to using student feedback to ensure this.
In the professional context, legislation and policy affecting practice for all profession-
als in the areas of child and adult services emphasize the need for professionals to be
able to work and plan together in multidisciplinary or inter-professional teams (Children
Act 1989, Mental Health Act 1983, NHS and Community Care Act 1990, the Mental
Health [Patients in the Community Act] 1995). In areas of critical service impact such
26 P. Thompson

as child protection and mental health competent practice can lead in a real sense to the
saving of lives. Public inquiries following tragic deaths have demonstrated that a key
area leading to potential hazard for vulnerable clients is that of the breakdown of
communications between professionals (Reder et al., 1993; Richie, 1994). This heightens
the focus of professional training, creating a critical sense of getting training right—for
staff, students and future clients. Part of getting it right might be to help students
understand miscommunication on their training course in order to avoid miscommunica-
tion when they come to practice. Part also might be for a tutorial team to demonstrate
good communication skills by example.
In setting out on the enterprise of social work education in such an environment
therefore, there are a range of emotions already at work. It felt to me that there was a
lot riding on the success or failure of this new course, which was also very much ‘my
baby’ emerging after the birth traumas of failed validation. One of the staff team
suggested this as an interpretation of current students’ anxieties: the previous cohort had
become in phantasy a miscarriage, whilst the new, current cohort was the surviving
sibling.
After the successful but hard won revalidation, there was a sense of success mixed
with fear of failure—considerable ambivalence. I—we, so far as the course team were
concerned—wanted very much for the course to work. If it did not, jobs might go, and
a valuable resource for local students would be lost, students who as a group are
normally underrepresented in higher education as a result of class, gender, disability
and/or race. There was thus something almost messianic (Bion, 1970) about the need to
survive all that had happened, and the need for a capacity to contain destructive elements
that might arise in the various groups upon whom successful course delivery depended:
tutorial team, partner agencies, students themselves. Against this were the very real
persecutory anxieties (Klein, 1946) engendered by a rising climate of quality audit,
student charters, external professional audit, increased student numbers and expectations
(Wilkes, 2000). This has been referred to as the culture of knowledge as a ‘commodity’
(Parker, 1997, p. 15). As course organizer, I felt very much at the centre of these various
pressures. The multiplicity of my roles, some in con ict with others, evoked in me a
continual partly conscious sense of defensiveness.
I shall now go on to consider in turn each of the key concepts referred to
earlier—negative therapeutic reaction, the shadow and hate in the counter-transference in
relation to case material.

The Negative Therapeutic Reaction

Case Material
During a question and answer session in induction week, a student said that it had been
heard in the students’ union bar that the previous course had been closed because there
had been bias in the marking against black students. It needs to be noted here that this
was a predominantly black student group, with around a 70/30 ratio black/white (the
ratio of men to women was even more imbalanced, at around 90/10 women/men). My
internal response to this comment was a feeling of anger, mixed slightly with panic. The
anger seemed to derive from the feeling that the team and I had put a lot of effort in
repairing damage that had previously been created and that we had despite ourselves
inherited. The panic was that this question could generate considerable and understand-
able anxiety in the student group. My verbal response was to emphasize that the course
 The Classroom and the Crucible 27

team valued the diversity of its student group, that this was a joint enterprise in social
work education between the students and the course team, and that marking was always
anonymous and there could be and was no question of bias. This seemed to satisfy the
student. The session proceeded. At its end, other students then said how well organized
the whole induction week had been, and how grateful yet in some ways surprised they
had been to be on the course. Grateful, because they had wanted this so much for many
years—to train in social work; surprised, because there were many stories in the room
of educational rejection. These were all mature students, many of whom had been away
from education for many years. Spontaneous applause broke out directed, so it felt,
towards me.
At the completion of the academic year, the external examiners held a routine meeting
to gauge student feedback. Whilst there were no complaints about teaching and learning,
the students complained bitterly at the quality of practice placements that the course had
offered them over their Ž rst year. The communication was that, if good quality
placements were not available, then the course was being disingenuous in taking on more
students than it could properly accommodate in terms of practice learning opportunities.
This complaint was taken so seriously that, eventually, it became a requirement by the
professional body, CCETSW, that course numbers were reduced by two-thirds.

Discussion
Freud’s discovery and formulation of the negative therapeutic reaction (1917, p. 69;
1923, p. 49; 1932, p. 109) was based on an idea of unconscious guilt. Freud observed
that ‘there were some patients who reacted badly to analytic interpretations—they got
worse with good interpretations rather than better’ (Hinshelwood, 1989, p. 356). Klein
extended this work into the concept that the patient’s bad reaction to good interpretations
derived from envy: ‘the envious patient envies the analyst’s capacity to make interpreta-
tions’ (Hinshelwood, 1989). Bion (1961) developed this with the idea that the patient
attacks the therapist’s mind with intolerable aspects of his or her own because of the
envy of the therapist’s capacity for containment. A messianic phantasy (Bion, 1970)
might potentially exist in a group that felt the need for hope and deliverance (from
ignorance to knowledge; from unqualiŽ ed to professionally qualiŽ ed), the messianic idea
arising from the intercourse either between two group members or between a member
and a leader (Hinshelwood, 1989, p. 225). In the teaching group, such a phantasy might
be suffused within the student/tutor relationship.
In the example here, it seems to me that there were elements of a negative therapeutic
reaction mixed up with elements of primary envy. This was to lead to a demonstration
of Bion’s idea of ‘attacks on linking’ (Bion, 1970). The initial effusive gratitude of the
students was forgotten about (and therefore might never have happened, was wiped out
as a memory) by the negative feedback given to the external examiners. This was an
attack which was at least in part gratuitous because the students knew somewhere that
the course team had no managerial authority over the agencies where students went on
placement and where there might or might not be issues of quality of learning
opportunity. The placements themselves were all bona Ž de resources, offering services
to their clientele to their best of their abilities in difŽ cult and hard-pressed circumstances.
At the same time, the initial, effusive gratitude occurred in a moment of extreme
anxiety. Consciously, there was an expressed and understandable concern about inequal-
ities in marking based on racial prejudice. In the earlier group’s difŽ culties, there had
been questions about equality of treatment based on class and race. These had been
28 P. Thompson

investigated by the professional body and were not upheld. A number of staff had left
during this process. Unconsciously, students were aware that the previous intake had
been halted and those in the room were therefore survivors. Not all of those whom had
originally been offered places were able to accept. Students in the room were not aware
of the changes in the staff group that had occurred. There were clear resonances and
echoes of guilt within all this (amongst both students and staff). Students would
sometimes ask what had happened to others who had been offered places in the previous
year. After one assessment period midway through the academic year some students had
been asked to leave the course. Comments then arose from those students who
had successfully progressed about why that had been and the fact that they were all
‘guinea pigs’ in a new course. There was also the deeper anxiety and guilt and hinted
questions over the mass educational system from which many of the students in the room
had hitherto been excluded. This is suggestive of an area that has been deŽ ned as
‘internalized oppression’ (Edwards, 1995; Jennings, undated; Lipsky, undated).
The concept of internalized oppression has been derived from ideas of social
disadvantage and discrimination. It is a position where a disadvantaged, oppressed group
is invited to cooperate in its own oppression and coercion through self-doubt, isolation,
fear or self-invalidation. Edwards’ discussions (1995) focus on gay and lesbian op-
pression. Jennings’ discussions, referring to Suzanne Lipsky (undated), focus on race.
When used in student discussion groups, the arguments begin to extend over multiple
oppressions, covering people disadvantaged as a result of class, gender, religion,
ethnicity, or disability. Taken together, a state of mind experiencing guilt and anxiety,
coupled with the notion of internalized oppression, creates an explosive atmosphere for
learning. It can lead to the Groucho Marx dictum, whereby he didn’t care to belong to
any social organization that would accept him as a member (Marx, 1967). Students who
may have had a record of academic under-achievement and possibly rejection came to
the course lacking in self-worth. The course, by accepting them onto it, became in their
minds worthless. The under-achievement and therefore rejection might well have been
as a result of factors more to do with social inequality but the sense of worthlessness
became an identity in itself. From a psychoanalytic perspective, this resonates with
notions of identiŽ cation with, and introjection of, internalized bad objects which can then
become a threat to any good objects on offer: ‘there is … a deep anxiety as to the
dangers which await the object inside the ego’ (Klein, 1935, p. 265).
Themes and evidence presented in this paper suggest that Klein’s discussion of these
mechanisms in relation to psychological development bear close correlation to issues as
they arise in educational development and emotional learning. Where students are
primarily identiŽ ed with bad internal objects (certainly bad educational internal objects,
if it can be put thus), there then arises a powerful internal con ict in trying to learn.
For the ego, when it becomes fully identiŽ ed with the object, does not
abandon its earlier defence-mechanisms … the annihilation and expulsion of
the object … initiate the depressive mechanism … the paranoiac mechanism of
destroying the objects (whether inside the body or in the outside world), by
every means derived from urethral and anal sadism, persists, but still in a lesser
degree and with certain modiŽ cations due to the subject’s relation to his
objects. (Klein, 1935, my emphasis)
The teacher seeks to represent a good object for the learner. What is taught is taken into
the learner’s internal world. The internal con icts that then ensue can either destroy the
teaching or the teaching can Ž nd a place within the learner and help the learner develop
 The Classroom and the Crucible 29

and ultimately determine whether they ‘qualify’ or ‘fail’. Meanwhile, teaching takes
place in a heightened atmosphere of paranoia and guilt.
The course becomes a means of working through these emotional con icts, which are
then evoked into consciousness and played out in the teaching arena (literally then an
arena). Brown and Price (1999) highlight that students and staff may need support in
dealing with such difŽ cult emotional issues. Models for this exist in, for example, the
Tavistock work-discussion groups. Another model of support becomes possible where
teaching staff have also undergone personal therapy. This was the case in the staff group
under consideration here where two of the course team (including this author) held
psychotherapy qualiŽ cations. It could also be argued that students cannot be properly
prepared for the extent of the emotional impact of emotional learning without some
experience of personal therapy. The possibilities for this are obviously limited by factors
such as fees. It is a point that should, however, not be lost.
In this student group, guilt became magniŽ ed by the end of their Ž rst year, at the point
where the external examiners met with them, when some of the students were, with their
knowledge, failing the course. Potential survivor guilt turned to anger and indignation.
Klein’s notion that the best interpretations produced the most intense envy becomes
obscured slightly at this point. Was it that the course deserved the complaints that arose?
Or was it, by being well organized, getting hold of the group’s anxiety sufŽ ciently and
being Ž rm with students who needed to fail, that feelings of envy were evoked precisely
at the course team’s capacity to contain and manage difŽ cult experiences? Was it, by not
having sufŽ cient emotional supports (e.g. personal therapy), that what has been referred
to as paranoiac mechanisms were forced into being acted out rather than worked
through?
Underpinning or unchaining the elements referred to above are quality criteria which
require that students as stakeholders (Eraut, 1994) are fully consulted on all aspects of
the course experience. Brown and Price (1999) and Salzberger-Wittenberg et al. (1983)
comment on the potential for students to experience persecutory feelings arising in and
from the teaching environment. Without adequate structure and support, there can
develop in the student group the possibility for an omnipotent, destructive culture to get
out of control. This can be plausibly played out in the quality process, ultimately
threatening the good object.

Annihilation of the persecutory object of a persecutory situation is bound up

with omnipotent control of the object in its most extreme form. I would
suggest that in some measure these processes are operative in idealization as
well. (Klein, 1952, p. 65)

This reference to idealization is a reminder of the early idealization within this student
group, expressed in the applause of induction week.

The Shadow
Case Material
As an assessed output from a weekly counselling and group work skills workshop,
students were required to produce a journal of their feelings and reactions week by week.
In one of these journal entries, a student mis-remembered some events in a session. In
that particular session, the group had been discussing the importance of humour as a
de-stressing factor in social work. Whilst agreeing with that point, and sensing an air of
30 P. Thompson

geniality and receptivity in the room, I thought this an appropriate moment to extend and
deepen the group’s awareness of group processes from a Freudian perspective. I
therefore made reference to Freud’s belief that humour could have as its route some
sadistic impulses in certain cases (Freud, 1905). The group explored this idea, with
references to slapstick with clowns falling over, and also to coarse comedians who
resorted to racist or xenophobic jokes. Generally it was felt to be an interesting and not
unacceptable tenet. It felt to me like a helpful and satisfying oasis of therapeutic
education.
In the journal to which I refer, however, the mis-remembering consisted of recording
a sexualized link to humour that I had in fact not made. My reference to humour and
sadism was turned into a reference between humour and seduction. It will be recalled
that Freud referred to mistakes such as slips of the tongue, misreading, mishearing
mislaying, or forgetting as parapraxes (Freud, 1901, 1916) or faulty actions whereby the
unconscious gives us a glimpse of itself. Freud’s Ž rst use of this idea goes back to 1892
where he refers to the counter-will which makes itself apparent despite the best
intentions of the conscious mind.
This was an interesting paraprax. It was made by a student for whom I did feel some
attraction. I could acknowledge to myself and to colleagues this attraction, but in the
context of teacher and student, would have felt such an open acknowledgement to the
student to be highly inappropriate. Had the student unconsciously detected my attrac-
tion? To my conscious awareness I retained a professional demeanour in my dealings
with all students and indeed my colleagues seemed rather surprised when I confessed to
them my sense of this particular student. Freud seemed rather embarrassed by the
evidence that he had amassed for the real possibility of telepathy or thought-transference
(his paper on this, though originally written in 1921, was not published until after his
death in 1941). Perhaps this possibility could not be ruled out here.
Although Freud’s ideas in relation to humour were greeted as a novelty by all the
workshop group, and despite my only reference in the group being with regard to sadism
in humour, the sexualization of humour in relation to sadistic impulses can be found
discussed in Freud’s text:
A whole class of obscene jokes allows one to infer the presence of a concealed
inclination to exhibitionism in their inventors; aggressive tendentious jokes
succeed best in people in whose sexuality a powerful sadistic component is
demonstrable. (Freud, 1941, p. 143)
It was as if the paraprax indicated conŽ rmation of Freud’s evidence, whilst indicating
that the student was unconsciously aware of the connection between humour, sadism and
sexuality. Parapraxis as a representation of unconscious con ict in working with
diversity was to emerge in another example of mis-remembering.
The counselling and group workshops were normally taught in three small groups. On
one occasion towards the end of the series, one of the workshop leaders was unexpect-
edly absent and so the other workshop leader and I took the decision on the morning of
the workshop to combine the three groups and run the morning as a big group workshop.
The other workshop leader was a black woman and I am a white man. The absent
member was a white woman.
At the start of the session, my colleague and I explained to the student group that our
colleague’s absence was unexpected and unforeseen. Two other choices had been for one
group to have no session that morning, or for that group to be divided into the two
groups that had a leader. We however had decided that it would be better, and a more
 The Classroom and the Crucible 31

interesting experience, to have a larger group event. This would give the big group
an opportunity to have to work in unexpected ways, as so often happened in the
unpredictable world of social work and social care.
As an agenda, we looked at two broad areas. One area was the concept to which we
have been referring in this paper, namely, internalized oppression in terms of issues of
multiple oppressions, diversity and difference. The other area was a related but different
topic: that of stress in social work, its causes and remedies. My colleague and I had felt
that in doing this we could bring out some of the latent con icts and tensions which
seemed to be within the group. We had already begun to identify these in terms partly
as seen in the topic of this article, but also more speciŽ cally in terms especially of race,
gender and class within the student group. As an example of this, two students had begun
to feel isolated because although they self-identiŽ ed themselves as being black, some
other students on the course felt that those students were too light-skinned to be really
part of the black group. Helpfully, these feelings emerged in that big group session and
seemed to be resolved.
In the journal write up of this big group session, the mis-remembering consisted of an
incorrect recollection of something that my colleague and I had said on the day. Not only
was it an incorrect recollection, what was recorded seemed to be the complete opposite
of what had been said. A student’s journal reported that my colleague and I had
pretended that the big group session had been planned all along. It had been obvious to
this student and everyone else that the session was being extemporized on the day.
Conferring with my colleague, we agreed that our own memories of the day were in
accord. As conŽ rmation, we articulated to each other that we had been open about being
taken unawares by our colleague’s absence. We were in a quandary as to how to
proceed, but made the decision to go on as we had, for the reasons outlined above. We
were puzzled by this student’s negative reaction. It is as if the teaching setting mirrors
the analytic setting in the requirements for regularity and consistency in order to provide
a sense of containment where learning can take place. A teacher’s responsibility is to
provide a good enough teaching experience.

In some cases, however, it turns out in the end or even at the beginning that
the setting and the maintenance of the setting are as important as the way one
deals with the material. (Winnicott, 1964, p. 96)

Once again, this becomes a challenge where learning resources are at issue. Issues might
range from staff availability to the suitability of teaching rooms. Furthermore, learning
resources are a major area in current Quality Assurance Agency inspections. In the
example referred to above, the teaching team felt that by explicitly working with the
group about the uncertainties provoked by unforeseen changes in circumstances, they
had provided a model for responding to the unknown in professional life. The student’s
response, however, requires us to remain vigilant about the teaching setting as a crucible
for learning.

Discussion
The idea of hearing or remembering the opposite of what was said put me in mind of
Jung’s concept of the shadow. One of Jung’s clearest deŽ nitions of this was ‘the thing
a person has no wish to be’ (Jung, 1948, p. 470). The shadow is the aspect of the self
that we do not want to own or acknowledge. In relationship terms, we may project
32 P. Thompson

unwanted parts of the self into others—thus hating in others the split-off aspects of
ourselves.
Here Jung found a convincing explanation not only of personal antipathies but
also the cruel prejudices and persecutions of our time. (Samuels et al., 1986,
p. 139)
Therefore where tensions arise as a result of a very visible black/white dyad, male/
female dyad, or less visible polarities, they are suggestive of problems in the area of the
shadow and its projections. Although Jung acknowledged the universal debt owed to
Freud by his discovery of the unconscious, Jung’s approach was more to attempt coming
to terms with the shadow aspects of the self, since it was impossible to eradicate them
(Samuels et al., 1986).
Jung goes on to observe the ‘emotional nature’ (Jung, 1948, p. 8, his emphasis) of the
shadow, with ‘a kind of autonomy, and accordingly an obsessive or better, possessive
quality’ (p. 8). He goes on to discuss the way in which unwanted projections can lead
from the shadow towards the animus and anima—the male aspects of a woman and
female aspects of a man, respectively.
It is these considerations which led me to wonder whether individual students and I
could be unconsciously drawn into doing something together of an emotional nature of
which the students seemed unaware whilst I was only partially so. Consciously this was
emerging as an antagonistic reaction to what my teaching was offering at any given
moment. This then seemed to be getting in the way of remembering and possibly
therefore of learning. At the very extremes of what might be termed shadow thinking,
the interplay of opposites might be a further cause of considerable con ict in teaching
and learning. Where the lecturer/student dyad might be visible in, for example,
black/white and/or female/male, the polarizing tendency becomes magniŽ ed. An assump-
tion might also be that a lecturer by deŽ nition is ‘middle-class’, while many students in
the new university may well be ‘working-class’—a further differential axis. The
integration and intercourse that needs to take place for teaching to become embedded can
become loaded with sexualized anxiety.
Questions in the student’s mind might be something like this: how can I get what I
need from this lecturer in order for me to pass, yet not become too much like him (or
her) such that I abandon and betray my identity? How can I be sufŽ ciently cooperative
without collaborating (with the enemy and in my own oppression, perhaps)? What might
happen if I get too close to this lecturer—will there be some kind of abuse?
From differing perspectives Hooks (1994) and Salzberger-Wittenberg et al. (1983)
refer to erotic feelings within the classroom. Samuels (1993) has discussed this in
relation to the psychotherapeutic setting. The idea of the shadow here, however, helps
perhaps to see these ideas too in a more symbolic, or as Jung might have said,
archetypal, context.
The lecturers, meanwhile, need to be watchful for their own unconscious elements.
Writing on the dangers of unrecognized counter-transference, Kraemer notes that
‘the analyst’s unrecognised shadow may well be at the root of an unrecognised
counter-transference’ (1958, p. 221).
What was my unrecognized shadow? It was conceivably my own difŽ culties in role
overload, though in phantasy it was more my disappointment at having bred such a
troublesome cohort. They might be said to have been living out my shadow for me.
Living the shadow occurs when unwanted actions are committed as a result of
unconscious forces:
 The Classroom and the Crucible 33

… supposedly undesirable activities have come to be termed ‘acting-out’, and

this term seems to have received greater prominence than its more vivid
equivalent of ‘living the shadow’. (Fordham 1957, p. 125)
A further element in this example that potentially gave rise to unconscious destructive
urges was indeed the demonstration that my colleague and I, as a black woman and
white man, were visibly integrated and working well together at that moment as the
course team. The early anxiety situation that this calls to mind is that of the ‘combined
parent Ž gure’ (Hinshelwood, 1989, p. 240, from Klein).This is the idea in the infant’s
mind that mother and father are united in intercourse from which the infant is excluded.
The infant wants to attack and raid the good things from this union which in phantasy
the parents are keeping for themselves.
The combined parent Ž gure is one of the most terrifying persecutors in the
dramatis personae of childhood … Internally such a realistic parental inter-
course forms an internal object that is the basis … of personal creativity.
(Hinshelwood, 1989, p. 240)
My colleague and I were united as a couple that was able to demonstrate clear thinking
and emotional integration in front of the students. Whilst consciously in our minds we
were modelling what we thought was good professional practice, at the unconscious
level this evoked very core and early infantile anxieties. In turn the destructive urges
evoked by these anxieties spoilt the student’s capacity to learn and integrate such that
they remembered incorrectly. Taking account of the axes considered above relating to
race and gender, our own intercourse was perhaps felt to be especially challenging.
Of some interest is the way in which envy and the ambivalence of admiration appear
to lead to more resolution later on. After the course had ended a student whom I had
experienced as being opposed to psychoanalytic ways of thinking elected to continue
studying on a course with a more speciŽ c focus on psychoanalytically informed
therapeutic studies.

Hate in the Counter-transference

Case Material
In preparing to write this paper—as a way of trying to make some sense of the impact
of this group upon me—I Ž rst formulated it into the abstraction of the negative
therapeutic reaction in teaching and learning. I was struck by the transition that this
group had made from its initial gratitude, expressed in the spontaneous applause in their
Ž rst week, to a culture of what Salzberger-Wittenberg et al. (1983) referred to as
denigration. As the emotional impact of the group took its toll, and was digested by me,
this abstraction became a more vivid emotion. I was put in mind of the idea formulated
by Winnicott (1947) of hate in the counter-transference and what this might mean in the
educational context. It was at this point that I had a dream about this group.
In the dream I was standing at the front of the class as I so often did. It should be
explained at this point as a form of pre-association that in reality, because of staff
shortages, I was not only the course organizing tutor, but also admissions tutor,
assessment tutor and overall subject leader for the social work discipline within the
university. Whilst being somewhat overloaded, this might help to explain why I had so
much direct involvement with students on so many levels and the personal investment
that I had cathected into the course. I had perhaps begun to embody the messianic ideal,
34 P. Thompson

possibly too readily. This though can be an unavoidable problem in any situation where
resources are too limited as to be able to organize in an ideal way.
In the dream I said, almost as an aside and in a jokey, facetious fashion, not to worry
about what I was saying, because this group did not really want to know it anyway. At
this point, a male student (the light-skinned black man referred to earlier) sniggered—as
he often did in real teaching sessions—nudged the person next to him and asked me to
repeat what I had said as he had not heard me. At this point in the dream I  ew into a
rage and stormed to the back of the room where he was sitting. I had gone there with
the intention of screaming at him. But by the time I had reached him I had calmed down
ever so slightly and reiterated in a very loud voice that the problem with this group was
that they did not want to hear me or take the teaching seriously. The dream ended at this
point.
My immediate association to this dream was to the memory of an event where I had
almost lost my temper with the group; they had certainly realized that I was angry with
them. This was at a meeting where I had brought up with the students the feedback from
the external examiners. That feedback indicated that students had reported the poor
reputation that the course had within partner agencies, and that this made the students
feel devalued. Would their qualiŽ cation be worth anything once they had Ž nished the
course? Would their Diploma in Social Work count? Would they be able to get jobs?
Instead of defending the course, it appeared as if the students had colluded with
negative feedback. My response to students in the discussion that followed was to take
the line that the course and by extension the university was not an abstract entity ‘out
there’. They the students were as much the course as were the tutors. This was not a
different approach from the one I had taken during their early weeks on the course when
I had stressed the importance of partnership in the students’ social work education—
seeing the course as a collaboration between the students and ourselves as tutors. I said,
as again I had said all along, that students were the ambassadors of the course when
operating in their placements. I likened the situation of denigrating the course externally
to that of a business enterprise where staff express disloyal views externally, and the loss
of conŽ dence that ultimately ensues. Some students replied that they felt that I was
gagging them or trying to make them not speak. My response to this was to say that we
encouraged open debate and the exchange of views in the college, but that negative
opinions should be shared with tutors or me Ž rst, to give opportunity for redress. That
did not seem to be happening. Students then said that they felt that their views given to
external examiners had been somewhat misrepresented by the external examiners. They
had not really criticized the course, more the range of agencies that the course used for
placements. Something of a circularity of argument ensued. On the one hand, students
said that they felt misquoted, or that their comments to the external examiners had been
taken out of context. On the other hand, students felt that they had a right to speak and
suspected that my intentions were emerging as to keep them quiet.
Another association to the dream related to the light-skinned black man. This
association reminded me of a discussion in the counselling and group workshop about
a hierarchy of blackness. This discussion had taken place before I was made aware of
the bigger group dynamic, referred to earlier, which had led to two lighter-skinned black
students feeling ostracized. This discussion, which consisted of a group of black
students, with me as the only white person present, was about the notion that the blacker
a person was, the more genuine or true was their descent from their African roots. This
especially related to people from the West Indies or Americas who would most likely
have been descendants of slaves. If a person was lighter-skinned, though black, it was
 The Classroom and the Crucible 35

indicative that in their background there would have been some consorting with the slave
owner that would have produced a lighter-skinned offspring; or so the mythology went.
I had made no comment about this at the time, thinking and feeling that my authority
to speak in this area was limited. The information that I later became aware of relating
to the bigger group dynamic gave me some more sense of the location of this discussion.

Discussion
Both the dream, with its idea of not taking learning seriously, and the case material, with
the question of the worth of the paper qualiŽ cation, point to an underlying reason why
most students come onto the course. They want the paper qualiŽ cation because it will
give them opportunity for a job, or a better job. This is an instrumental view of education
that is perhaps increasingly unsurprising in the current economic climate. But this
approach does tend to make re ective teaching more problematic. On the one hand,
students want to know the answers to questions so that they will pass the assignments
(and get the piece of paper signifying qualiŽ cation). Therefore uncertainty or not
knowing may become difŽ cult to bear. On the other hand, the pain and uncertainty that
must accompany not knowing and ultimately, depth learning, might become intolerable.
As Salzberger-Wittenberg et al. (1983, pp. 57–58) observe
the pain experienced by the learner, when intolerable, is got rid of into the
teacher … A vicious cycle may be set up in which the teacher reacts to the
powerful emotions evoked in him [or her] by helping the students evade the
inevitable stress or forcing the anxiety back into him … quick solutions to
mental pain … discouraging the capacity to think.
Such considerations may be made even more difŽ cult to bear for the students where they
are required to meet professional competencies and occupational standards, whilst also
being required to demonstrate the capacity to be able to bear and work with not knowing.
Such considerations may be made difŽ cult for the teacher to bear in a climate where
feedback is formalized in a regulatory way, and where quality indicators take no account
of the potentially persecutory anxieties attached to emotional learning.
It was largely on the basis of a quality assurance perspective that I had come to think
with students about their roles as course ambassadors. Student feedback is now
mandatory as an absolute requirement in course monitoring in higher education. It
was essentially student feedback that had been a major factor in the earlier course
non-validation. Writing from a similar perspective, Wilkes observes:
Students wish to be heard and have their concerns taken seriously … Students
learn a great deal from witnessing what happens to others … Recourse to
formal procedure is almost always a measure of despair … Measures that
empower students are, paradoxically, the key to the resolution of complaints.
(Wilkes, 2000, p. 119)
The idea that develops from this of partnership between educational provider and
participant each as stakeholders in the educational enterprise is also an idea that can be
found in the work of Eraut (1994). Certainly practice placement agencies indicate that
they judge the course by the student. In considering whether or not to accept students
from a course, a measure that is frequently quoted is the experience of previous students
from that course, their academic standard and the likely quality of the contribution the
student will make to the agency. There is thus then a sense of both staff and students
36 P. Thompson

being to some extent ‘in the same boat’, with a high degree of interdependence in
relation to the course’s reputation and long-term survival.
Returning to the dream, the emotional impact upon me of the hierarchy of colour
discussion was partly to make me feel excluded, and partly to make me feel impotent.
Implicit in the students’ words and experiences was the fact that, since I was not black,
my ‘experiential authority’ (Hooks, 1994) in this area was rendered null and void. Yet
it was more than null and void. As a white man, and as the course organizer, at the level
of unconscious phantasy it felt quite plain to me that I was a representative descendant
of the slave owner: uncaring, brutal, unjust and liable to use sexuality as an oppressive
tool. We were certainly not partners at this point. Re ecting back to the moment of that
discussion, I think that I let down the group by not being able to formulate that
counter-transference experience into an interpretation. I think that I was not able to do
so because the power of those historical memories was very present in the room and it
was as if anything that I would have tried to say would have sounded like an excuse and
a further perpetration of wrongdoing. Nevertheless, I was left feeling almost dead inside.
I had become the receptacle of unwanted and unpleasant projections in terms of abuse
and oppression, with no capacity on my part to make the group aware of how I felt I
was being treated at that moment. By extension, it was possible that anyone who did
really well on the course might become in the group’s eyes the slave owner’s
consort—thus rendering success perhaps quite difŽ cult.
Turning back to Winnicott, I began to experience a form of hatred for myself as a
teacher with this group, and for them as a student group. It was as if nothing that was
said or done was ever right. More than this, whatever was said or done seemed to
rebound back to me in a retaliatory way. Babies died before they were born. I wondered
if this is what had happened in the former work group, namely that a similar range of
emotions had arisen within the staff/student interaction, which the staff team had not
been able to tolerate or contain. I certainly felt as if I should leave my post and began
to make applications for other jobs.
This material might present further evidence for the existence of unconscious
messianic phantasies in this situation. The anxieties about pairing were demonstrated
partly in the unconscious con icts arising in individual students’ mis-rememberings (as
in the case material referred to earlier), but also partly in the small group discussion of
master/slave sexual relations. Such relations were disparaged. That discussion and the
emotions that gave rise to it may have made it difŽ cult for students to perform
academically to their full ability. Achievement may have come to mean collusion with
the oppressor. As a group culture this could help to additionally explain the negative
dynamic that had begun to operate in this cohort. A student who received high marks in
excess of 70 during the Ž rst year with little additional support reported in the second year
difŽ culties in making sense of lectures. The student sought an assessment for and
received a diagnosis of dyslexia. Subsequently the high marks dropped. Had this student
begun to live the group’s shadow at this point?
In Jung’s alchemical writings he refers to the achievement of the uniŽ cation of
opposites as precursor and fruit of psychological wholeness. In the black/white dyad as
in the male/female dyad there is ample opportunity for mutual projections that can
impede such integrative possibilities that need to occur.

Medical psychology has recognized today that it is a therapeutic necessity,

indeed the Ž rst requisite of any thorough psychological method, for conscious-
ness to confront its shadow. In the end this must lead to some kind of union,
 The Classroom and the Crucible 37

even though the union consists at Ž rst of open con ict, and often remains so
for a long time. It is a struggle that cannot be abolished by rational means.
(Jung, 1956, p. 365)
In his paper on hate in the counter-transference Winnicott focuses his discussion on the
analysis of psychotic patients because the burden of their hatred projected into the analyst
provokes such emotional strain. But there is some extension to this idea:
It seems to me doubtful whether a human child as he develops is capable of
tolerating the full extent of his own hate in a sentimental environment. He
needs hate to hate. If this is true, a psychotic patient in analysis cannot be
expected to tolerate his hate of the analyst unless the analyst can hate him.
(Winnicott, 1947, p. 202)
It is not that the student group were psychotic, nor were the staff team trying to analyse
them. However, there were powerful emotions at work within the group, of which I felt
the impact. There was an intention on the part of the staff team to impart and encourage
emotional learning and engender in the students a capacity to be able to critically analyse
their own professional practice. Taken together with the whole range of other psycholog-
ical and structural issues referred to earlier in this paper, there was an explosive cocktail
of feelings that manifested in a form of hatred, projected into my colleagues and me.
Combining ideas from Winnicott and Jung, it is important to contain and feedback hateful
projections so that integration of the personality, and in this case, emotional learning, can
take place. This dynamic can apply as much to the teacher as to the student.
My dream had expressed some of these issues, in terms of students not taking the
teaching seriously, undermining me in the classroom, and the emergence of my wrath.
Jung (1948, p. 485) wrote:
The teacher should be more conscious of his shadow than the average person,
otherwise the work of one hand can easily be outdone by the other. It is for
this reason that medical psychotherapists are required to undertake a training
analysis, in order to gain insight into their own unconscious psyche.
We might be reminded here of Freud’s discussion of parapraxis, where he says
what was required to overcome the unconscious motive was something other
than a conscious counter-intention; it called for a piece of psychical work,
which could make what was unknown become conscious. (Freud, 1901, p. 238)
Returning to the current situation, ultimately students were dismayed that the professional
body took a decision to require the course to reduce its numbers. A number of students
said that their complaint had not been about the course, but about resources. To reduce
student numbers was, they said, to punish the course. It would also further reduce
opportunities for access to a professional qualiŽ cation for students traditionally under-
represented in higher education. This was some mitigation of the destructive attacks that
had taken place, although it is likely that students did not realize the power that their
voices carried in the current climate of quality assurance, customer feedback and student
charters. This was in much the same way as the previous cohort had not realized the
extent of their potential power that became actual in suspending the course intake.
None of the protagonists showed awareness of the unconscious motives at work. Indeed
course feedback systems and quality assurance procedures are not designed with the
unconscious in mind.
38 P. Thompson

Given the academic setting, there arise constraints as to how much, how and when if
at all, can such emotional impacts as discussed here be fed back to students. Feedback
to students in the academic context is usually through essay marking, tutorial guidance
and so on. Feedback from students is obtained through the teaching, learning and course
management systems, at an institutional level through the quality assurance process. But
if emotional feedback cannot be given at all, are students properly being given an
experience of emotional learning? The hatred that is evoked in emotional learning is, I
suggest, connected with the students’ hatred of their own dependency in the teaching and
learning process as adult learners. They have partially lost their adult roles and not yet
been allowed access into the professional roles to which they aspire. I say partially lost,
because, to make matters worse for them, mature learners are students when in class, but
retain perforce any number of adult roles and responsibilities outside: parents, carers and
often, in the current Ž nancial climate, continuing to be bread winners. This in turn
evokes regression to a range of confused infantile phantasies and anxieties that are
played out in deeply emotional ways with course staff.
Following on from the above, there also arise questions and issues about what
constitutes authority in the educational setting, where authority sits and who possesses
it. Students seem to enter the new academic world unconsciously expecting a kind of ‘us
and them’, based largely from their experiences or memories of secondary education.
Very rapidly, what they are presented with is not ‘them and us’, but an offer of
emancipatory participation in the learning process. At the same time, the demands of
professional education are extremely rigorous and becoming more so. Simultaneously,
students are by default signatories to the Students’ Charter, giving rights and privileges,
with a stakeholder message. Whilst lecturers in this setting are keepers of the keys to
the professional kingdom, there are at once elements of accountability to those
seeking access to it. These confusions perhaps Ž nd their centre or home in the course
coordinator who must somehow reconcile the con icting demands. It is she or he who
must write the annual quality report (or two, in the case of professional body registra-
tions) and she or he who is ultimately accountable for the programme of study. To add
to the dilemma of authority, lecturers are regarded historically as self-managing.
Therefore attempts to impose discipline or order become subject to negotiation. It is an
interesting coincidence that at the time of writing four separate advertisements appeared
in the same week in the national press for course directors/coordinators in universities
elsewhere.
The notion of ‘employability’ is yet another expectation laid upon current higher
education courses. In preparing students for employment, it would be misleading to
allow an aura of confused authority to permeate the teaching and learning regime. Upon
qualiŽ cation, students will be subject to the authority of the employer. Inasmuch as
students become in their turn holders of professional status, they will become authority
Ž gures in themselves. In neither case will students—or their ultimate clients—be well
served unless re ective space is given on their course to the appropriate uses of
authority. In the contemporary climate of professional courses within higher education
there are both risks and opportunities in attempting to do this by using and re ecting
upon the staff/student dynamic within the crucible of the course itself.

Implications and Applications

In this penultimate section it is proposed to consider some of the implications and
possible applications of the thoughts in this paper for the practice of teaching and
 The Classroom and the Crucible 39

learning in professional education, where that education has to do with emotional

learning.

Implications for Equality of Opportunity

Students coming onto a single course can come from a wide diversity of backgrounds.
This diversity includes ranges of educational attainment, as well as ranges of population
characteristics. Some students have prior educational qualiŽ cations, some have none.
The student population has grown increasingly diverse. What does it mean for black
students to be taught by a white tutor on issues of anti-discriminatory practice or
anti-oppressive practice? What feelings and emotions might this generate? Hooks
discusses this in terms of the ‘authority of experience’ (1994, p. 84) and the ‘right to
speak’. Hooks suggests that it might be important in such a situation to explore ‘ways
individuals acquire knowledge about an experience they have not lived’ (p. 89). Simi-
larly, what issues and feelings might be evoked by requiring deaf students to attend
counselling workshops where there is a repeated emphasis on skills in listening? What
issues and feelings exist for blind students and the group in infant observation seminars,
where the conscious emphasis is on seeing and visualization? The course under
consideration here contained all these elements and more. All the normal feelings
associated with entering higher education for the adult learner (such as loss of role,
de-skilling, bewilderment and confusion) become magniŽ ed. These are issues that cannot
be evaded. The only possible resolution for them is to be consciously acknowledged and
thought about in open ways with the student and staff group.

Implications for Staff/Student Relations

The students under consideration here had a sense of the institutional history of the team.
As in the case of team-work (see below), there is a sense of partnership in contemporary
higher education, with ideas of students as stakeholders, etc. Yet there is also an
authority in the role of tutor that cannot be avoided. In a context where the focus of what
is taught is the relationship, it will be difŽ cult to avoid addressing the staff/student
relationship, if relationship teaching is to be meaningful. In a psychoanalytically
informed course this is analogous to the analysis of the transference in psychoanalytic
practice. Concomitantly, it must be expected that such a focus, as described here, will
carry a cost that must be paid in emotional terms if learning is to be real, successful and
have lasting value beyond the student’s participation in the moment of the course.

Implications for Team-work

Teams need to work overtly for a sense of cohesion. The evaporation or disintegration
of teams in the public services can be as a result of their not being able to tolerate the
impact of the projection of destructive emotional forces upon them. This may have been
a factor in the closure of the previous team in the context here. Feelings of mutual blame
and recrimination when problems occur are difŽ cult to avoid in the quality-driven
climate. Where persecutory anxiety is dominant, the anti-task and anti-group forces
referred to earlier become paramount and engulf the success of any enterprise. Teams
themselves may then be acting out destructive phantasies on the part of the student
group. Problems in student learning may have origins in unconscious processes within
either the student, the student group, or the staff team. Tutorial staff need to be prepared
40 P. Thompson

to be alive to such issues and able to acknowledge and work them through. This includes
issues of appropriate authority and accountability.

Concluding Review
This paper represents an attempt to re ect on the application of psychoanalytic ideas
about unconscious processes to the practice of teaching and learning in higher education.
The focus has been on the preparation for professional practice in social work. It has
been an implicit argument of the paper that these ideas relating to what has been termed
emotional learning are transferable and replicable wherever emotional learning might be
a teaching aim.
The focus here has been to do with the emergence of unconscious anxiety in the
educational transaction. The anxieties discussed here have been to do with the difŽ cult
emotional experiences that have been subsumed within the concepts of the negative
therapeutic reaction, the shadow, and the experience of hate in the counter-transference.
Insofar as the aim of psychoanalysis is to help make conscious that which is uncon-
scious, it might be put that an aim of psychoanalytically informed teaching is to help the
student know how to know. As seen here, however, such knowing can induce pain. A
task for the teacher is to help the student endure this pain. If that can be achieved in
terms of professional practice, which is often uncertain, unsure and depends upon
re exivity, the practitioner that emerges can also be someone who can tolerate and
survive not knowing. This is not the same as ignorance. It is realizing the extent of
knowledge and what to do when that knowledge is sometimes not enough for the
moment of anxiety.
Psychological and structural forces combine in contemporary higher education. The
capacity for emotional pain is exacerbated. Professional practice regulatory requirements
raise the heat. It is difŽ cult but critical for us to remain open to the emotional melt of
the work, translating this into an experience of learning for both teacher and student.

Acknowledgements
The author would like to thank Geraldine Shipton and Heather Price, past and present
editors of Psychoanalytic Studies, for their encouragement and patience in the prep-
aration of this paper and to Joan Fletcher, senior lecturer and psychotherapist, for advice
on particular aspects of the work.

Correspondence: Department of Human Relations, University of East London, Long-

bridge Road, Dagenham, Essex RM8 2AS, UK; tel.: 1 44–0208–223–2126/0208–444–
0795.

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