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Royal, warrior, magician, lover: archetypal reflectivity and the construction of professional knowledge.


Teacher reflectivity has become significant to practice and research in teacher education and development. The literature on teacher reflectivity is substantial, and reflection has come to be widely accepted as a central factor in the professional growth of teachers. In contemporary research and practice, teacher reflectivity has come to refer to the numerous processes by which teachers respond to the dilemmas or opportunities of their teaching contexts. Reflectivity involves a meta-cognitive process through which educators increase their awareness of the implicit attitudes, beliefs, and knowledge that inform their practice--in order to transform their practice. Archetypal reflectivity as a mode of teacher reflectivity includes but transcends the more common political, pedagogical, and biographical modes of teacher reflectivity in order to delve into teachers' deeper ontological constructs and commitments regarding their professional knowledge and practice (Mayes, 2005a). I analyze four archetypal images (Royal, Warrior, Magician, Lover) to inquire into the ways they might facilitate ongoing teacher reflection and development. These images of maturity (1)--and their bi-polar shadows (2)--can serve to inspire and structure self-reflection as part of the construction and reconstruction of teachers' professional knowledge.

Archetypal reflectivity provides a beneficial catalyst for teacher reflectivity similar to the uses made of metaphor and image in teacher education, development, and research. Clandinin (1985), for instance, helps her research participant make explicit the tacit images that inform her teaching. Bullough (1991) describes practices of asking his teacher education students to identify a metaphor that conveys their teaching identity and attitudes. Perry and Cooper (2001) illustrate how women educators have used metaphor to explain change in their work lives. Mullen, Greenlee and Bruner (2005) investigate the potential of metaphor as a means of addressing the complexities prevalent in the relationship of theory and practice.

However, none of these approaches to teacher education and development addresses the role of the unconscious mind, which wields a substantial shaping influence on the intellect, emotions, imagination, intuitions, body, and spirit--and thus on learning and teaching. Over a hundred years of theory and research document the acute influence of the unconscious mind on human learning and development. It is insufficient for an education system that declares its intent is to maximize human potential, whether academic, economic, social, ethical, personal or spiritual, to so neglect the implications and valuable potential of depth psychology. Archetypal reflectivity draws on the field of analytical psychology, a branch of depth psychology or psychoanalysis that draws on the work of Carl Jung and the post- and neo-Jungians, a practice and a body of research focusing on the holistic and helpful contributions of the unconscious mind to individual and social development.

The use of image and metaphor is a helpful and informative approach to teacher reflectivity that tends to either draw on or concur with the work of Lakoff and Johnson (1980). There is a similarity between Jung and Lakoff and Johnson in their shared assertion of the wide symbolic or metaphorical underpinnings of most and perhaps all thought, belief, and action. This argument is also made by Northrop Frye (1983). However, there is a vital distinction to be drawn here between the work of Lakoff and Johnson (and Frye) and that of Jung. For Lakoff, Johnson, and Frye, interaction with metaphors occurs on a fairly conscious, rational, level--by this I mean there is no deliberate acknowledgement of the role of the unconscious mind in the process. Generally, the meaning of the metaphors is understood to be fairly clear. Metaphors used in this way are more like what Jung would call signs. (3) A related but even more significant difference is that for Jung, symbols--and archetypes are symbols--reveal meaning and purpose that guide the increasingly conscious development of personal and professional identity. They are transformative in intent. This element is missing in Lakoff and Johnson and in Frye.

Susan Rowland (2005) has noticed the irony that in an era of cultural studies devoted to integrating marginalized ideas and people into the centers of power and discourse, depth psychology generally, and Jungian analytical psychology specifically, remains relatively marginalized. Rowland writes:
 Jung's omission from cultural theory is so profound as to be more
 than can be accounted for by his real political and personal
 defects, which have been extensively researched (Samuels 1993; Bair
 2004). Jung is not only not read, he is misread while being unread.
 What many scholars in the humanities regard as 'Jungian' is often a
 distortion of what he actually wrote. The taboo surrounding his
 role in cultural theory ought to itself arouse suspicion in those
 who are expert on exclusion ... I am not going to argue that Jung is
 always right ... However ... He analysed a world built on structures
 of exclusion and knew it was sick for that reason (2005, x. emphasis

Western society's historical and ongoing emphasis on objective thought and rational cognition has been critiqued recently from many perspectives, such as feminism, critical race theory, postmodernism, and postcolonialism, for omitting the personal, emotional, embodied, and spiritual aspects of knowledge and experience. However, often many of these perspectives turn to Freud and the post-Freudians, particularly Lacan, and overlook the contributions of Jung and the post-Jungians. This is ironic considering that Freud, much more than Jung, is rooted in and limited by the very Enlightenment presuppositions contemporary theorists are critiquing. It may be so because some mistakenly argue that Jung's theory of archetypes is that of an Enlightenment thinker, a universalism refuted by Lyotard's skepticism of meta-narratives. However, this kind of critique is just such a case of unreading and misreading that neglects Jung's distinction between the archetype and the archetypal image as described in my article "Archetypal Literary Theory in the Postmodern Age" (Dobson, 2005). In short, the archetype is a hypothesis, a shared psychic potential that is ultimately unknowable and unrepresentable--except through situated, particular, and politicized manifestations: the archetypal images. Jung's thought and research displays elements of both modernism and postmodernism, critically integrated into a cohesive and original understanding of the human psyche. Contemporary Jungian perspectives are conversant with the critical perspectives currently dominant in the academy. (4) Jung and Jungian-based perspectives study the totality of all psychic processes, both conscious and unconscious, and Jung presents a holistic and integrated perspective of the psyche that complements the perspectives more readily available in educational psychology.

Analytical Psychology in Education

Many contemporary researchers consider the educational implications of Jungian analytical psychology (Bogdan, 2003; Clarkson, 2002, 2005a, 2005b, 2006; Clarkson & Worts, 2005; Congram, Jones, & Statton, 2008; Craig, 1994; Cranton, 1996; Dirkx, 2000, 2001; Dobson, 2008a, 2008b, forthcoming; Forbes, 2003; Mayes, 1998, 1999, 2001b, 2002, 2003, 2005a, 2005b; Miller, 1994, 2001 [1988]; Neville, 2005; Paterson, 1997; Reinsmith, 1992; Shaker, 1982; Uhrmacher, 1997). The most extensive work on Jung in education has been done by Mayes in his recent book, Jung and Education: Towards an Archetypal Pedagogy (2005a), and his numerous articles in educational journals (Mayes, 1998, 1999, 2001b, 2002, 2003, 2005a, 2005b). In articles published in Teacher Education Quarterly (2001a; 2003; 2005c) and elsewhere, Mayes advances a conceptualization and practice of archetypal reflectivity, and in doing so supports the ongoing research and practice of teacher reflectivity, supporting its focus on the political and biographical dimensions, while extending reflectivity into the transpersonal and psycho-spiritual domains. He argues the omission of the transpersonal and spiritual dimensions from teacher reflectivity limit its effectiveness, and that the use of Jungian archetypes can provide a more powerful experience of reflectivity and transformation. Mayes (1999) explicates practices in which the archetypes of hero, sage, ogre, clown, Icarus, and shadow can be used to in order to view and renew teacher practice. He also considers how teaching and learning are enriched when the teacher draws on the archetypal image of the shaman (Mayes, 2005b), and he presents four images of the teacher as an embodiment of the archetype of spirit: (1) the teacher as philosopher, (scholastic spirituality), (2) the teacher as federal prophet (civic spirituality), (3) the teacher as Zen master (ontological spirituality), or (4) the teacher as priest (incarnational spirituality) (Mayes, 2002, 2005a). I draw upon and expand this conceptualization and practice in order to consider the possibilities of Moore's and Gillette's (Moore, 2006; Moore & Gillette, 1990, 1992a, 1992b, 1993a, 1993b) four archetypes of maturity (the Royal, Warrior, Magician, Lover) for further teacher reflectivity and draw on my own teaching for examples of this reflectivity in action.

Four Archetypes of Maturity

Each archetypal figure possesses a bi-polar immature shadow, one pole characterized by an active stance and the other by a passive one. For the Royal, these are the tyrant and weakling; for the Warrior, the sadist and masochist; for the Magician, the master of denial and the trickster; and for the Lover, the addicted lover and the absent lover. Moore writes, "An Ego that does not properly access an archetype will be possessed by that archetype's shadow and left oscillating between the shadow's two poles" (Moore & Gillette, 1992a). (5) These images of maturity can serve to inspire self-reflection on our teaching practices and knowledge. They provide insight into dilemmas commonly experienced by teachers and provide a means of considering vibrant possibilities for transcending unsatisfactory and ineffective approaches to teaching and learning. They allow us to first imagine and then enact ourselves anew in our classrooms. Such archetypal reflectivity can lead to a reconstruction of teachers' personal practical knowledge, their deeply intertwined personal and professional identities (Clandinin & Connelly, 2000).


The mature lover can be seen in the teacher's work when one values relationships--those with students, colleagues, parents, and administrators. This is a teacher who values the intuitive, emotional, sensual, and spiritual realms of educative experience. The teacher as mature lover brings creativity into all endeavors, including methodology, classroom management, and evaluation. It is a mature connection to Eros that allows teachers to "feel the depth of passion for our subject and the warmth of caring and connection to our students" (Kessler, 2002, 268). Such a teacher experiences and values the art of teaching and is sensitive to each lesson plan as an opportunity to create a transformative learning experience.

Unfortunately, the news is full of teachers who, while in encountering the Eros qualities inherent in teaching, are overwhelmed by the Lover's active shadow, the Addicted Lover. Kessler (2002) writes:
 It is possible for a dangerous side of Eros to be unleashed as
 well. Out of the Shadow come feelings that have been kept
 well-hidden by the force of cultural taboo, suppressed in our
 personal effort to maintain appropriate professional boundaries. We
 may feel romantic love, sexual attraction, even obsession about
 these young people in our charge. (268)

At its most literal and dangerous level, this dynamic can be seen in teachers who engage in sexual relationships with students. This kind of violation occurs "when a teacher impulsively acts out sexually because she or he is not conscious--and therefore not able to be conscientious" about Eros in the classroom (Kessler, 2002, 272).

At a less dangerous but more common and subtle level, this energy can also be seen in a teacher's preference for one or a select group of students. "Sometimes we find ourselves giving undue attention, opportunity or even decision-making power to these students for whom we feel an almost numinous (6) attraction" (Kessler, 2002, 273). A teacher may have to confront a desire to be adored by students. When the need to be liked becomes a prime motivator for the teacher's actions, a situation develops that interferes with mature interpersonal relations in the classroom, and perhaps in assessment (realm of the Magician) or in the creation of order (realm of the Royal). This can be a common dilemma for beginning teachers. While I certainly believe that education works best when students like their teachers and teachers like their students, the insecurities of the Addicted Lover can prevent a teacher from risking the Eros attachment through creating a demanding curriculum. High expectations may require that such a teacher tell the very students to whom she is addicted that they are not achieving at a sufficient level. In the same way such a teacher may be reluctant to require behavior that respects each person in the room and the work that is undertaken there because doing so may mean asking the very students to whom he is addicted to modify their behavior--and doing so may put their adoration for the teacher at risk. A mature Eros requires that teachers care for their students--and such care means transcending the Addicted Lover's need for adulation. The teacher enacting a mature Eros is able to enact challenging practices in a loving and related manner, not to avoid them.

The Absent Lover, the passive shadow of the Lover archetype, experiences life disconnected from the feelings and senses and is characterized by a lack of enthusiasm, interest, and vitality (Moore & Gillette, 1990, 138). A person over whelmed by this passive shadow feels increasingly alienated from others and may be depressed. While there clearly may be other contributing factors, the prevalence of this dynamic can be inferred from the increased sales of antidepressants, such as Prozac, which are increasingly prescribed, even for children and adolescents (Delate, Gelenberg, Simmons, & Motheral, 2004). Clearly an increasing number of students and teachers are being diagnosed as depressed and are seeking assistance in prescribed medications. This passive shadow can also be seen in the teacher who is merely going through the motions, not actively or authentically involved in his work or students. A persona of cold professionalism may develop. This teacher lacks creativity in both his field of expertise and in methodology, perhaps teaching the same lesson in the same way for 20 years. Overwhelmed by the passive shadow of Eros, this teacher is disconnected from work and students and is unable to access the passion needed to transform his professional and personal life

The teacher as mature Lover brings creativity into all endeavors, including teaching methodology and course content. This kind of teacher values the aesthetic, intuitive, emotional, sensual, and spiritual realms of educative experience. Such a teacher experiences and values the art of teaching and is sensitive to the lesson plan as an opportunity to create what Dewey call "an experience" (1934) (7) or what Csikszentmihalyi (1990) calls "flow." (8)

In my own teaching, I have encountered each of the shadows of the Lover archetype. I discovered the Addicted Lover archetype in my own subtle but persistent desire to be adored by students. The teacher enacting a mature Eros is able to care for students in and of themselves, not see their affection for the teacher as an affirmation of the teacher's own worth. A mature Eros requires that teachers care for their students--and such care means transcending the Addicted Lover's need for adulation.

The passive shadow of the Eros archetype allowed me to understand my ongoing battle with teacher burnout. On a yearly basis, I would experience periods when my work was uninspired and uninspiring. I felt spent and ready to leave the profession. Developing a practice of archetypal reflectivity enabled me to understand this experience as a lack of connection with the mature Lover archetype, and the image of the mature Lover provided inspiration, insight, and guidance in overcoming this recurring phenomenon.


As a teacher, the mature Magician develops a thorough knowledge and set of skills in her field as well as a professional knowledge of teaching and then actively seeks to put that content and methodological knowledge in service to the fullest possible individual and social development every day, in every lesson--and recognizes that such a practice derives from and will provide encounters with the numinous, whether in mathematics, science, English, art, or wood shop.

The active shadow magician is the Manipulator, a sorcerer's apprentice who has either not mastered his technologies or himself, or both, and whose partial development is capable of unleashing havoc. In education, the active shadow magician uses standardized tests scores to judge or punish teachers and schools. This is a teacher or administrator who becomes more focused on how measurable student achievement reflects on oneself or the school rather than on student development itself, who is overfocused on teaching to the test, who encourages students who may not score highly on required standardized tests to drop the class, or to drop all other classes except those being tested. There are students in America who now take math and English for all but one class a day, every day, because those subjects are the focus of high-stakes standardized testing. The Manipulator also understands education as skills and knowledge acquisition in service of competition in the global economy, rather than as transformative encounters that facilitate the fullest possible individual and social development.

The Magician's passive shadow is the denying Innocent One, who wants the power and status of a Magician but refuses to accept the responsibilities inherent in the role. As a teacher, the passive shadow Magician fails effectively to plan or be organized to facilitate the fullest possible learning; neglects self-reflection about one's practice; overlooks revision of one's teaching philosophy, methodology, lesson, unit and yearly plans in light of experience; projects the blame for unsatisfactory classroom experiences onto the students; or fails to consider the insights those encounters might provide into further developing one's professional knowledge and practice.

In my own teaching I was able to draw on images of the mature Magician archetype as I dealt with series of pedagogical dilemmas in the aftermath 9/11. I was teaching high school drama at the time and had developed a tradition in the school of creating dramatic presentations for the school's annual Remembrance Day ceremony. (9) Two weeks after September 11, 2001, I told my students that I didn't feel I could direct and coordinate the writing of the production that year because there was no way I could participate in it without addressing 9/11, the American invasion of Afghanistan, and what I took to be the domineering, but naive and dangerously patriotic, ethos. Seven years later, in 2008, Canada now leads the international incursion into Afghanistan, and the United States is in the fifth year of its occupation of Iraq. These concerns also now have a place in the social and public discourse that they did not possess in September 2001. Remember, at this point, critiques of America were not to be found in the popular media. Michael Moore's book deal for Stupid White Men had been cancelled due to such appraisals, and the American government was issuing directives that the media needed to 'exercise caution' and should report stories about al-Qaeda in a manner approved by the White House (MacDonald, 2001). American flags were being displayed on the t-shirts and bumper stickers of both students and teachers in our Canadian school. However, my drama students were very adamant that they shared my concerns, and they thought it vital to integrate our response into the production. So we did.

The success of this piece was rooted in the process from which it was created. From the beginning, this was a collaborative, student-centred creation with the clear intention of integrating all the voices and opinions present in the class. While I was the co-ordinator and director, I used my skills and experience to help shape the form of the ideas, images, and feelings of the students. In that production, I made a conscious choice to trust their judgment, even when I disagreed with it. I appreciated them as participants whose creative input was to be valued as equal to mine, and they respected my theatrical toolkit. One of the main themes in this production was the diversity of voices, even voices that felt war and invasion were acceptable: we wanted to 'complexify' the issues in the face of the reductionistic and simplistic messages we were receiving through the American government and the media. The result of this integration of all perspectives was a high degree of interest, participation and risk-taking in the group.

My understandings of theatrical technique and pedagogy were enacted while consciously seeking to create a transformative learning experience. Here, I understand how two distinct but interrelated fields of knowledge (theatre and teaching) that each require specialized training are both used in pursuit of social justice, the unfolding of student identity, and an aesthetic encounter with the numinous--for the performers and the audience. According to Moore's and Gillette's (1990; 1993b) images of maturity, to use knowledge and technology in such a way is the providence of the mature Magician. In this classroom-based performance that culminated in a public performance, I emphasized process rather than product and valued the social and the personal dimensions of the project ahead of the performance values. The students encountered the skills and techniques of theatre as instruments of social, personal, and metaphysical development. In so doing, they also created a project that demonstrated a high degree of theatrical quality or success--their level of observable achievement was quite notable, though it was never the primary focus of anyone involved in the project. The students came to care deeply about their work and so sought to do it well. Because of this experience and others like it, I have come to think that the perennial dilemma of process versus product, drama-in-education or theatre-in-education, can be transcended when both sides of the dichotomy are experienced as manifestations of transformative learning. In this way, both approaches and all techniques are consciously and consistently placed in service of the unfolding of personality, the pursuit of social justice, and encounters with the numinous. However, even this proposition aligns my approach more closely with the explicit values and practices of process drama (see, for instance, Boal, 1974; 1992; O'Neill, 1995), though I embrace the transformative and educative potential of performance more than do Boal and O'Neill.

This story illustrates how accessing the mature Magician energy places technique and knowledge in service of transformative learning. In my own teaching, however, I have also encountered each of the shadows of the Magician archetype. The active shadow magician is the Manipulator, a sorcerer's apprentice who has either not mastered his technologies or himself, or both, and whose partial development is capable of unleashing havoc. This shadow is seen in our propensity for cleverness instead of wisdom, when we are capable of great skill or accomplishment but lack the wisdom to use that expertise in service of a transpersonal good, a value or idea that transcends mere ego gratification. I have come to understand that my acceptance of the use and importance of high-stakes standardized tests, earlier in my career while teaching in Alberta, Canada, is an example of the Manipulator manifest in my teaching practice. I now understand such practices as replicating the factory-based, industrial, and corporate structures that underpin our educational system and which serve to replicate social inequities. Levin (1994), for instance, demonstrates clear evidence that the single greatest indicator of such "school success" is the socio-economic status of the family (see also Kohn, 2000, 2001). The Manipulator understands education as skills and knowledge acquisition in service of competition in the global economy, rather than as transformative encounters that facilitate the fullest possible individual and social development.

I have also become aware of the Magician's passive shadow, the denying Innocent One, in my own teaching practice. The Innocent One wants the power and status of a Magician but refuses to accept the responsibilities inherent in the role. The Magician's power needs to be channeled and controlled, and the Innocent One avoids this discipline. I see this in myself in a previous propensity to project the blame for unsatisfactory classroom experiences onto the students and in failing to consider the insights those encounters might have provided into further developing my professional knowledge and practice. I try very hard not to complain about my students in the staff room anymore. Instead, I attempt to consider what I can do to transform the classroom dynamics in order to alleviate the frustrating scenario.


The Warrior archetype has been seen mostly in its shadow forms; people are understandably uncomfortable with it, particularly women who have often been the victims of the immature active aspect of this archetype, the Sadist (Moore & Gillette, 1990; 1992b). The mature warrior, however, is the active energy that moves one forward in life. It supports and defends identity formation. It is the source of the energy that empowers one to actually do that which needs to be done, to move out of a defensive position about life's tasks and problems and to take action; and it is characterized by an alertness and presence of mind. A person accessing the mature warrior also possesses a transpersonal commitment, a loyalty to something larger than oneself or another individual (though this energy might be channeled through an individual like a mature Royal), for instance a god, or the people, a nation, a task, a just cause.

The mature Warrior can be seen in a teacher who recognizes the need to protect oneself, the work that occurs in the class, and the other students in the class from the repeated intrusions and disruptions of a difficult student, and who, in so doing, uses strength and power to also help the challenging student, rather than merely removing or punishing the student. This dilemma is encountered daily in schools.

The energy of the mature warrior is regularly seen in the professional knowledge and practice of teachers, including the implementation of social justice issues in the school and curriculum; the creation of a Gay-straight alliance; the conscious integration of issues of poverty, class, race, and gender into curriculum and systemic practice; the use and defense of multiple intelligences, cooperative learning, and arts-based methodologies in a system that is still predominantly derived from factory-based models of education; the creation and support of new programs that serve those most at risk in our school populations; the initiation of a free breakfast program; the energy of the mature warrior is present in the actions of those who challenge and resist the presence of pop machines and fast food in the schools; in the rejection of corporate sponsorship or corporate values as a basis for educational practice (see, for instance, Molnar, 1996; 2005; Norris, 2006; Saltman, 2000; 2005); in the challenge of the value of high stakes standardized tests (see, for instance, Kohn, 2000); and in the daily modeling of a life devoted to using one's strength in service of that which is good rather than that which is merely profitable.

The Sadist is the Warrior's active shadow stance; it entails the unnecessary hurting of others and involves use of the warrior's strength to benefit oneself rather than a transpersonal goal. The Sadist manifests itself as an active face of patriarchy and is the source of much wariness regarding the masculine . In schools the Sadist can be seen in the vindictive, controlling teacher who feels that students who are punished get what they deserve and ought to face more severe punishment more often; in the teacher, coach, or administrator who uses his position and power to create a climate of fear and intimidation; in the use of sarcasm or irony directed at students; in the response that belittles, intimidates, or otherwise seeks to keep the students "in their place"; in the perception that deviation from school rules or classroom procedures is a personal affront that must be repressed and punished, rather than interpreting a disruption as a potentially healthy indication of latent potential that the teacher can seek to facilitate in the student; or in the interpretation of challenging student behavior as a potential indicator of a need for growth and change in the teacher, the classroom procedures, or the school systems.

The Masochist is the passive warrior stance, and can be seen in the teacher who makes curriculum or methodological choices based primarily on what is easy or popular with the students; in daily interactions with students, colleagues, and administrators based on the path of less resistance; in the too frequent use of movies in the classroom; in the rewards given to students for mediocrity rather than the demand for excellence; in the blind acceptance of curriculum or contracts imposed from without; in the surrender of responsibility for maintaining order or discipline in the classroom; in keeping one's head down and mouth shut while waiting for retirement.

In my own teaching practice, I now try to draw on the energy of the mature warrior during classroom management incidents, times when I call on students to modify their (mis)behavior. I find it helpful to draw on an image from the grail story of Parzival (Clarke, 2002; de Troyes, 1987; Wolfram, 2004 [1200]). Parzival not only protects the innocent from the rebellious Kingrun, but in doing so, Pazival also diverts Kingrun himself into the service of King Arthur and the company of the Knights of the Round Table. I now consciously draw on this image as I try to protect myself, the students, and the work we are doing from potentially harmful student behaviors. It is clear to me that disruptive students of either gender are potential Knights of the Round Table and that I should treat them as such.

This story illustrates how the strength and courage of the healthy and mature Warrior energy creates boundaries that make educative experience possible. In my own teaching, however, I have also encountered each of the shadows of the Warrior archetype. The Sadist is the Warrior's active shadow stance and entails the unnecessary hurting of others and involves use of the warrior's strength to benefit oneself rather than a transpersonal goal. I have seen this energy present in my own teaching in a tendency to be authoritarian when stressed. The Masochist is the passive warrior stance, seen when one projects one's own warrior energy onto others and then experiences oneself as helpless, allowing oneself to be hurt and hurting oneself. I have seen this in my own practice when I have overextended myself in my teaching and extracurricular activities and then felt underappreciated by students and administrators. This has been a cycle often followed by a period of burnout as discussed above.


The teacher as mature Royal uses the Eros of the Lover, the skills of the Magician, and the strength of the Warrior in service of transpersonal goals such as the growth of the students and the pursuit of social justice, and as a means of encountering and sustaining the numinous. This is a teacher who provides structure and acknowledges the worth of others, and in doing so creates a fertile environment for student growth. Such a teacher creates order on many levels: through creative and compelling long- and short-range planning, through effective and innovative approaches to classroom management, through the use of methodologies that allow students of a variety of learning styles and personality types to experience the compelling nature of an educative experience. This teacher brings structure to the domain of knowledge being shared with students so that students can successfully engage with it. The teacher as mature Royal must also seek to bring inner order to the dimensions of emotion, intuition, body, and spirit that affect learning in the classroom. This teacher recognizes the unique and vital worth of students, draws attention publicly to their strengths and successes, explicitly acknowledges student identity, individuality, worth, and achievement. Furthermore the teacher, as Royal, must seek to always walk the talk, must not be a pretender to the throne because as Moore points out, following the Tao Te Ching, if the Royal "does not live in 'in the Tao,' then nothing will be right for his [sic] people, or kingdom as a whole" (Moore & Gillette, 1990, 56).

The immature aspect of the Royal energy can be seen in its active manifestation as the Tyrant, who is not creative and generative, only destructive. Examples of the Tyrant can be seen in teachers who are not authentically interested in the well being of their students, schools, communities and even themselves. This is the teacher with a power complex, one who has to win at all times and at all costs, the authoritarian disciplinarian. Perhaps the classroom tyrant teaches from the ego, is inflated, and subtly and unconsciously thinks he should be the focus of attention, and so is reluctant to use methodologies such as cooperative learning. He is reluctant to disrupt hierarchy, to empower students to become self-directed learners; this is the teacher as all knowing and all powerful. As an extracurricular coach, this teacher is focused primarily on winning. This is a teacher more concerned with keeping students down than with facilitating their growth.

The passive aspect of the shadow Royal can be seen in the Weakling. This is an administrator or teacher who accepts corporate sponsorships or pop machines in the hallways because they provide convenient funding for extracurricular activities, rather than accepting the challenges of protecting and enacting a primary focus on what is best for the development of human potential. The Royal values healthy food in the school and considers other avenues of fund-raising that are driven by an educational agenda rather than corporate profit-seeking. The Weakling is an educator who is ruled by a sense of what is popular (with students, with politicians, with administrators) instead of that which is good. We see the Weakling when we allow ourselves to become dependent on the whims of the administrators or politicians or are overly aware of the criticisms of colleagues; or when we consistently defer to the will of an administrator, department head, colleague, or government-mandated curriculum even when it is at odds with our deepest held beliefs about education.


In conclusion, the question for us teachers is not if these bi-polar shadows are present in our own teaching practice, but rather where and to what extent they manifest themselves. From this perspective, teacher education and development might then be understood as an on-going process of self-reflection and analysis, an ongoing practice of striving to enact these images of maturity in our own unique circumstances, in each of our particular professional knowledge landscapes.

Diamond and Mullen (1999) argue that professional development for teachers must be
 self-directed and ... cannot be imitated or imposed. What develops is
 neither a collection of treasured 'tips' nor a hoard of guarded
 self-deceptions. Rather what develops is a theory of a more
 effective teacher-self that is constantly 'put to the test' so that
 richer explanations of ongoing practice will result. A teacher's
 self-movement is not relentlessly unilinear; it includes pauses and
 cyclic returns. Development proceeds in a manner other than as in a
 projectible curve like a cannon shot. Development cannot be
 'measured' using linear, rational tools. (68)

Teacher education and development is then an ongoing transformation of perspective which improves teachers' abilities in the midst of professional and personal challenges, resulting in increased personal agency. Teacher education and development involves the continuing reinvention of self and liberation from unsupportable attitudes, practices, and beliefs. The instrument of these transformations is critical self-awareness, through which the teacher develops an increased consciousness of how her perspectives both enable and constrain and so allow for a revisioning of self, relationships, and practice, in order to more satisfactorily integrate experience and enact these new understandings in practice. "Teachers can each learn to be scholars of their own consciousness and experts in the remodeling of their experiencing of the experience of teaching" (Diamond & Mullen, 1999, 123), and the images of the Royal, Warrior, Magician, Lover can become valuable assets in doing so. Thoreau tells us that most people lead lives of quiet desperation, that many of us are yearning for an experience of more quality, of more energy, of more joy, of more satisfaction, of more purpose, of more presence, of more spirit in our lives and in our teaching--and the practices of archetypal reflectivity remind us that each of us is capable of making it so.


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(1) An immature psyche is fragmented, with various parts of the personality "split off from each other and leading fairly independent and often chaotic lives" (Moore, 3). A mature psyche is characterized by a more consolidated and structured identity. A mature personality is nurturing and generative, not wounding and destructive. It tends to exhibit calmness, compassion, and clarity of vision. Further characteristics of a "mature" psyche are described throughout this article.

(2) The shadow is the part of the personal unconscious containing aspects of the personality that are not integrated into the conscious identity because they have been rejected, repressed, or not yet realized. Jungian-influenced theorists and practitioners generally assert that an archetype can manifest itself in either a positive (mature) or negative (shadow) manner (i.e., a positive nurturing mother figure or a negative devouring one). Moore advances archetypal theory by arguing that an archetypal shadow image manifests itself in a bi-polar fashion, one pole passive, the other aggressive.

(3) "A symbol is an indefinite expression with many meanings, pointing to something not easily defined and therefore not fully known. But the sign always has a fixed meaning, because it is a conventional abbreviation for, or commonly accepted indication of, something known" (Jung, CW 5: 180).

(4) I encourage readers further interested in these issues to consider Susan Rowland's Jung: A Feminist Revision (Rowland, 2002) and Christopher Hauke's Jung and the Postmodern: the Interpretation of Realities (Hauke, 2000).

(5) Moore's description of these archetypes of maturity originally focused on images of mature masculinity, though he was always clear that for both genders, the mature psyche is hermaphroditic, possessing those qualities described as masculine and those attributed to the feminine , and that each of these archetypes manifests itself in both feminine and masculine archetypal images. It was the prevalently immature nature of the masculine in Western society that focused his attention on questions of describing the attributes of mature masculinity in order to facilitate its development.

(6) Numinous means 'the pull or the call of the divine.' According to Mayes (2005a), "When we come into contact with an archetype, we have an experience of the divine within us, the numinous, as Jung called it, drawing on the Greek word for spirit, numen."

(7) The constitutive elements of an experience are completeness, uniqueness, emotional unity, and immediacy. An experience is transformative because it results in a metamorphosis of self, an expanded perception, a transition in attitude, an augmentation of knowledge, "or any of a host of other enduring alterations of a psychological nature" (Jackson, 1998, 4-5).

(8) Flow is optimal experience: "A sense that one's skills are adequate to cope with the challenges at hand, in a goal-directed, rule-bound action system that provides clear clues as to how well one is performing. Concentration is so intense that there is no attention left over to think about anything irrelevant, or to worry about problems. Self-consciousness disappears, experience is so gratifying that people are willing to do it for its own sake, with little concern for what they will get out of it, even when it is difficult or dangerous" (Csikszentmihalyi, 1990).

(9) In Canada, Remembrance Day is held each year on November 11 to honor the men and women who fought in the First and Second World Wars and in Korea. Schools generally hold a service which involves the laying of a wreath and a recitation of John McCrae's (1982 [1915]) poem "In Flander's Fields." In some schools, the service is accompanied by an appropriate dramatic production.

Darrell Dobson is president of the Jungian Society for Scholarly Studies and editor of Jung: e-Journal of the Jungian Society for Scholarly Studies, Haliburton, Ontario, Canada.
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Author:Dobson, Darrell
Publication:Teacher Education Quarterly
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Geographic Code:1USA
Date:Jun 22, 2009
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