Paper presented at The Australian Association of Research in Education Annual Conference, Melbourne, Nov - Dec1999.

In this paper, we examine the impact of corporate practice on schooling and on teachers' professional development at the end of the millennium. We argue that the production of new forms of knowledge is creating new sites of struggle over who owns educational knowledge, and this has profound implications for professional identity formation in all areas of social and economic endeavour, including education. As schools are re-shaped into corporations, school administrators and teachers are under increasing pressure to improve their productivity and to develop themselves as enterprising leaders and managers in a culture of performativity. To do so they are drawing more and more heavily on the growing non-academic literature of self-improvement and self-development. We express our concerns that such literature tends to value mindless optimism over radical doubt.

All teachers, whether of pre-schoolers or postgraduates, are now invited to be 'more professional'. Where once professional development was bound up almost exclusively with enhancing one's academic credentials, this is no longer the case. Increasingly, teachers are being invited to engage with a corporate ethic and a 'pick and pay' culture of generic professional development. It is this culture, rather than the culture of schools and universities, which is staking a strong claim to train the right sort of new professional-the creative, courageous, change-agent lauded by Akio Morita in the passage cited above.

As a burgeoning literature of self-improvement in the area of management can attest (Chin-Ning Chu, 1995; Covey, 1990; Goleman, 1996; Handy, 1990; Peters & Waterman, 1982; Peters, 1989, 1997), many non-traditional suppliers of custom-made models of self-improvement have already made inroads into professional development and the achievement of professional identities in education and elsewhere. An effect of this is that the claim of universities to be the rightful providers of teachers' professional development (as initial and in-service teacher education) is being weakened, and so too is their capacity to authorise the attributes or capacities which professionals should have. Stress management, budgeting, conflict resolution or physical fitness may be held in some quarters to be just as relevant to the profile of the corporate teacher as the updating of formal credentials. Moreover, these skills may well be more highly valued by entrepreneurial schools looking to position themselves at the cutting edge. 'If you look good you feel good and if you feel good you can do anything' may not be a slogan that sits well with many academics. However it is increasingly seductive in an era where distinctions like depth or surface, image or reality, personal or public, are increasingly out of place, and where teachers are to become more active and enterprising in the educational marketplace.

For most of this century, it might have been possible to say that all eyes were, or should be, on the teacher. In the 1990s, this imperative has been reworked to ensure that those doing the 'looking' are not just students, but the whole community. As a result, teachers must keep a sharp eye on themselves by turning their attention to their own self-regulation in quite unprecedented ways. If, during the 1970 and 1980s, the central schooling focus on learning and teaching meant that the administrative performances of teachers was a secondary issue, this is no longer the case. The role of teachers and principals has been transformed. Where communities may once have indulged the bumbling eccentricities of principals, and the idiosyncrasies and weaknesses of individual teachers, now keen scrutiny and high expectations are brought to bear on the management of schools, with educators themselves having the spotlight turned on their performance as managers.

Over the last ten years, increasing pressure to rethink the 'business' of education has led to thinking of education as a business (Zorn, 1998). Teachers have been the target of various forms of reports and task forces (Mayer, 1992; Karpin, 1995) which have attempted to diagnose the limitations of current educational practice, and to identify the direction Australian education should take into the new millennium. Much of this analysis has been shaped by a broader discourse about the sorts of citizens who would best contribute to an effective society. The discourse of 'enterprise' and the development of an enterprise culture is one influential frame that has given the new agenda of professional development in education its current shape.

Enterprise culture entails two distinct understandings. The first is the idea that the market is the best way to achieve effective organisational arrangements. As such, the market has 'paradigmatic status' for 'any form of institutional organisation and provision of goods and services' (du Gay, 1991, p. 45). The second understanding is about the most appropriate ethical comportment of the individual in a society, and what their relationship to the economy should entail. In this way of thinking, the creation of wealth, which is understood to be the final measure of success, is best achieved by a 'highly individualistic form of capitalism' (Heelas & Morris, 1992, p. 3). Each individual works industriously and competitively to achieve their potential. Their autonomy is paramount, and dependence is frowned upon. According to such a view, individuals should be prepared to take risks and take responsibility to achieve bold, ambitious goals which are regarded as 'human virtues' (Heelas & Morris, 1992, p. 4; du Gay, 1994, p. 45).

This culture of enterprise represents an important shift in the relationship between individual citizens and society. As one of the architects of the enterprise culture in Britain at the beginning of this decade, Lord Young of Graffham claimed:

A claim is made here for the morality of the market, by means of linking the achievement of individual enterprise with the improvement of 'community' outcomes. Such a re-configuration makes it possible to equate the market's ability to achieve a 'trickle down effect' (and so improve socio-economic standards) with greater democratic opportunity. In fact, some of the most influential architects of the 'free market', Friedman and Friedman (1990), have directly linked democratic values and the capitalist. In effect, the 'trickle down effect' offered in Young's analysis above works to equate the 'individualism of enterprise' (Young, 1992, p. 42) with egalitarianism (Heelas & Morris, 1992, p. 21). Such a representation rescues what is often despairingly and negatively described as economic rationalism, allowing world leaders like Margaret Thatcher to describe the 'free market' imperative as working positively 'to change the soul' (Thatcher, Sunday Times, 7 May, 1988 quoted in Heelas & Morris, 1992, p. 7). Concomitant with this appeal to enterprise is the portrayal of a culture of enterprise paying back the active participation of all citizens by being 'generating' and 'encompassing', rather than encouraging dependency (p. 7).

It is this moral dimension, along with the incitement to efficiency, which provides such a powerful trajectory for the reshaping of teachers' professional identities. The requirement to become enterprising takes managerial performance to new heights for educators. It involves a commitment to learning about being enterprising, and practising these behaviours for creative and continual change and personal growth. This personal learning is considered essential for organisational learning. Indeed, the idea of organisational growth and success in learning organisations (Senge, 1992) means that on-going learning practices belong not just to those who have been understood as the traditional learners in our institutions, but also to those who administer them as well.

But how does 'being enterprising' translate to the daily practices that shape teachers' professional identities? One script from the OECD (1989) provides some clues to its dimensions:

This sort of analysis shares many common themes with the earlier literature of teacher education (eg, Auchmuty, 1980; Ebbeck, 1990; Ramsay, 1990). However, new words like 'risk' 'negotiation' and 'influence' rather work, structures and standards, point to the initiation of creative ideas, rather than conformity to them, as important to the new professional. Additionally, the enterprising individual must be collaborative as well as individualistic.

These themes were taken up in the mid-1990s in one of the most significant reports that has been produced in Australia about management practice. The report entitled Enterprising Nation: Renewing Australia's Managers to Meet the Challenges of the Asia Pacific Century was produced by the Industry Task Force on Leadership and Management Skills (Karpin, 1995). The Report identified the failure of Australian society to educate its people to the values of enterprise as a fundamental cause of economic deterioration in the face of a global economy. Significantly, the Task Force nominates 'the creation of an enterprise culture ... involving as it does a change in the values inculcated in the education system, in the workforce and in firms' (Karpin, 1995, p. xix) as the 'biggest challenge faced by our nation' (p. xix). As an organising framework, enterprise culture makes the individual as 'enterprising', both visible and calculable. Indeed, as the Task Force suggests, enterprise culture underpins all the other challenges.

In making these moves, the Task Force places business, schooling, and the community under the umbrella of 'enterprise':

Drawing on the early thinking of this Task Force, the then Prime Minister Paul Keating outlined his vision, in Working Nation (1994a, 1994b), for the role of new sorts of citizens in the future of Australia. He identified 'cultural change and entrepreneurship' as critical dimensions needing to be institutionalised in the education system, asserting that this new set of practices was crucial to Australia's future success (Keating, 1994a, p. 72). As is true of any other area of large-scale organisational activity in Australia, education has not been immune from this call to enterprise.

A venture into the marketplace can be a risky business, as many an entrepreneur can testify. Efforts to transform the education system from being a state responsibility, administered through highly centralised bureaucracies to an enterprising quasi-corporation have constituted a major shift in the enactment of education, a shift that has become possible as a result of an often circuitous history.

To illustrate, the Karmel Report in 1973, and the subsequent leadership of the Australian Schools Commission, articulated a need for education to be decentralised in a discourse of social democracy. However, despite the best intentions of educators and communities for almost two decades, such an agenda was not operationalised to produce real change, and remained at a piecemeal and relatively unsuccessful level of undertaking. The current market type arrangements for the organisation of education have become possible in the 1990s due to an alignment of number of new and contingent discourses. These have been well documented as discourses of economic rationalism and corporate managerialism (eg. Lingard, 1991; Rizvi, 1994) as well as more recent discourses of competition reform and enterprise (eg. Hatcher, 1998). It has been the linkage of these new discourses of economic expediency, management efficiency, and enterprising competition with the earlier and more palatable discourse of decentralisation in the social democratic tradition that has made possible a major restructuring of the Australian state away from a welfarist model towards a competitive form.

The restructuring referred to above constituted a 'revolution in Australian public sector management' (Yeatman in Lingard and Rizvi, 1992, p. 112). Education has been encompassed in this revolution undergoing, in some instances several rigorous restructuring processes. As a result, state departments of education in all Australian states have been corporatised to constitute a 'new culture'. Both directly reflecting and being absolutely integral to this new technology of control, school based management policies and practices have been put in place to ensure that this newly imaged corporation is able to operate through the utilisation of 'on-line management' techniques (Willmott, 1993). In this arrangement, school principals are managers and teachers are leaders (eg. Chittenden, 1999). However, it must be remembered that, because public sector organisations such as education are now being enacted as 'quasi' corporations where substantial funding continues to flow from central government, there are differences which distinguish them from private enterprise. Gerwirtz (1999) describes a similar situation in the UK as 'regulated autonomy'. Certainly in Australia it appears that schools are being given increased responsibility for all manner of things (not the least of which is budgeting), while the exercise of power continues to reside with government. In this regard, the federal government is increasingly a major player, influenced as it is by business and industry.

While devolution allows for central government, both state and federal, to be very active, aided and abetted by the management practices of principals, the development of corporate cultures and the adoption of a market-driven approach to the government of education has demanded that schools and teachers be enterprising. It has become increasingly critical that they do so, because funding is being decreased in the state sector, and side-lined towards a burgeoning sector of non-government schools (eg. Meadmore, P., 1999). While the latter have always operated as a market characterised by competition to various extents, government schools have operated as a bureaucracy, largely outside of competitive arrangements (Connell at al., 1982). Currently, new competition policies and practices have changed both sectors, calling for increased competition in both market places. Moreover, although these markets are in competition with each other, in some instances public and private schools are operating in the same market.

Such a situation hails schools, teachers, students and communities to be enterprising players in a newly configured education market place. Markets operate through choice, and the education market is now putatively no exception. However as Gewirtz, Ball & Bowe (1995) argue, this is a spurious notion, since many consumers of the education market have little if any choice at all, given the social and economic parameters within which they get to make decisions. Schools with too many 'under-class consumers' are unlikely to corner a niche market for themselves, and face closure. For other consumers, the competitive market place presents exciting new educational possibilities. Schools well located in the market are offered greatly enhanced chances for accelerated growth and development. Thus, wealthy established schools in the private sector and 'leading schools' in the public sector are able to utilise 'positional advantage' (Hirsch, 1977) to reach new and dizzy heights of excellence and entrepreneurship. More prestige and resources as well as opportunities to select clients are now possible.

The market place of education-which extends into the tertiary sector-is based on the operation of a 'busnocratic rationality' (Peters & Marshall, 1996) where a new emphasis is placed on the student as consumer of education. It is in this discourse that the 'corporate teacher' is also called into being. To discursively produce the student-consumer and the corporate-teacher, practices which are both inside the school and on its borders take on new significance or are changed to meet new marketing agendas. Instances of this kind of 'cross-over' are captured in the notion of 'parerga' as used by French theorist, Jacques Derrida. Examples of 'parergonality' (Symes & Meadmore, 1999) are evidenced in how the traditional and ubiquitous speech night gets rejigged as a major marketing event (Courtice, 1999); the school musical gets made-over as the rock eisteddfod and part of a national competition (McWilliam,1999); assessment gets to be part of impression management where good results are a sure fire way of selling the school (Gerwirtz, 1999; Meadmore, 1999); and even the vestibule as the entrance point of a school takes on a role in the 'first impressions count' stakes of marketing.

Another practice which is particularly indicative of the operation of the education market in a postmodern context where image is everything, has been the renaissance of the school uniform as central to the symbolic economy of the school. This has been part and parcel of campaigns to re-image schools in an education marketplace (Meadmore & Symes, 1996). In both public and private sectors, uniform wearing has become central to 'shop front' marketing of schools. From the upmarket glossy prospectuses of schools at the apex of the market to the more humble publications of poorer schools, the prospectus almost unfailingly outlines uniform requirements and, where possible, depicts uniform clad students at work and play (Meadmore & Symes, 1997). In this new market context, traditional uniforms in elite schools are even more valuable, whilst newer and struggling schools' attempts at enrolling students in uniform wearing serve also as ways of showcasing the school, giving it market edge. While other attendant reasons persist as 'scripts' to underwrite school uniforms (Symes and Meadmore, 1996), currently school dress, colours, badges and mottoes are crucial to the market approach where finding a niche is central to survival. What is telling is that teachers in some schools, again both state and non-state, are also wearing uniforms as part of the corporate image of the school. Branding is important for all members of the corporation if it is to perform competitively in the market place (Hatch & Schultz, 1997).

To play their part in this new corporatising and hybridising order, teachers are to reinvent themselves as managers of perpetual training, and leaders of communities of lifelong learners. Some are setting about this process by entering optimistically into the 'pick and pay' culture of professional development in the hope of being delivered from the evils of irrelevance or unprofessionalism in new times. Motivational seminars, life coaches, self-presentation texts, and 'New Age' retail outlets are all competing strongly in this pick and pay culture. The ability to use complex computer software, or to engage in conflict resolution, or to create a glossy portfolio, or to discipline an expanding waistline-all these are vying for space in the generic professional development agenda.

Some educators, however, are grieving the loss of certainty about the bounded space of their disciplines, their curriculum, and their traditional pedagogical role, in much the same way that many people grieve the loss of the ideal of an enclosed nation state. For a significant number of teachers, the imperative to corporatise is particularly troubling because it seems to tie education directly to managerialism ie, to self-promotion and selling 'product', the antithesis of what they hold to be the point of education at its best.

It is too easy, however, to simply demonise the corporate fit, and to glorify those teachers who oppose it. The idea that the corporate sector is only on about profits and selling belies the fact that management is also being made over. As the recent 'excellence' literature demonstrates, there is now an insistence on the importance of soft skilling of managers, and this is being promoted as a direct acknowledgement of the role the 'gentle sex' can and should play in fast capitalist organisations. Tom Peters, an international guru of business excellence, writes:

This new 'soft-is-hard' vision of management shifts the organisational emphasis from bureaucratic to entrepreneurial and intrapreneurial styles of management, ie, 'from reactive to proactive' (du Gay, 1991, p. 47; Moss Kanter, 1989) engagement. Where client-driven (student-centred) activity rather than passivity is normalised in the institution, individuals are mobilised to do entrepreneurial work as a responsibility, not just as a privilege of a select few. As managers of perpetual training, teachers are to be no less enrolled in this way of thinking than any other professional group. They are being required to assist principals and parents to change schools and universities into entrepreneurial organisations, through a new radical strategy - the exercise of 'fun, energy, anger, participation, vigor' - rather than through bureaucratic restructuring. (Peters, 1989, p. 460). The obvious implication of this is that all these characteristics were missing in traditional (characterised as 'bureaucratic') organisations, and in those who peopled them. And many might argue that, in the case of schools, perhaps they were. What is presented in the new leadership and management literature is an image of the 'best' way to organise, where enterprising qualities of the employee (risk-taking, flexibility, uniqueness, self-reliance, innovativeness, and autonomy) are mobilised in the pursuit of improved performance, a performance that is observable and measurable.

A key element in this new identity formation is the idea that every professional person should understand themselves to be a leader. The knowledge object 'leadership' has become a central representation used for governing organisations. The effectiveness of the ordering of this social phenomenon of leadership has been achieved in the 1990s by requiring managers to regulate their behaviours in very precise ways. Leaders have been an important target of the excellence literature. In it, leaders are expected to have 'vision' and be able to articulate it (Peters, 1989, pp.399-432). They must have the 'capacity to influence and organise meaning for other members of the organisation' (p. 399). They must also know how to listen. 'To listen per se is the single best "tool" for empowering large numbers of others', according to Peters (1989, p. 436). Thus, leadership is produced through these micro-practices of speaking and listening, alongside more macro organisational practices, as part of the identity of the manager.

One important aspect of being a more professional teacher is understanding the difference between being an effective classroom leader and "being boss". Knowledge relevant to enacting this distinction has already been assimilated into many formal teacher education programs under the rubric of leadership and management. For example, William Glasser's contribution to the psychology of classroom management, which has featured prominently in the professional development of teachers over the last decade, endorses strategies that have much in common with enterprising employer/employee relations today. Quality education, so Glasser (1990) explains in The Quality School, is very much about 'managing students without coercion' (subtitle). It is about moving teachers from what he calls 'boss-management to lead-management' (p. 14), the sort of pedagogical 'caring and hard work' (p. 38) necessary to achieve the goal of 'convincing not half or three quarters but essentially all of his or her students to do quality work' (p. 14). 'Lead-managers' do this by 'taking the needs [of students] . . . into account,' using rewards that are 'needs-satisfying' (p. 41) as the basis of motivation. Boss-managers certainly have the expectation that their workers (students) should work hard, but unlike lead-managers, they do not keep the needs of the workers continually in mind (p. 52).

While learning the skills of the lead-manager might be a somewhat predictable agenda for professional development, given the centrality of student-centred pedagogy to a progressive agenda for teaching reform, the question of who gets to name such skills is a more vexed one for many educators. One relevant contemporary example would be the interest in developing 'emotional literacy' in teachers to make them more professional. Rather than revisiting the EQ versus IQ debate, we want to consider briefly what might be the implications of accepting that EQ should count as a generic attribute of the professional teacher as a lead-manager of pedagogical work.

EQ, according to Donald Goleman, author of Emotional Intelligence: Why it can matter more than IQ (1996), is a measure of the ability of an individual to orchestrate 'the degree of emotional rapport' (p. 116) between themselves and others. As Goleman argues it, the behaviours through which people expresses themselves can be taken as a measure of an individual's 'emotional literacy' (p. 341) and as such they can be evaluated, taught and learned. 'A talent for rapport' (p. 118) is thus rendered a skill, one that should be possessed by all teachers if they are to be actively engaged in schools as 'communities that care' (p. 279). If teachers possess such skills to a high degree, they could qualify to teach a class explicitly devoted to emotional literacy (p. 279). As Goleman sees it, 'there is little or nothing in the standard education of teachers that prepares them for this' (p. 279). It is not enough, however, simply to train teachers differently, because 'emotional literacy expands our vision of the task of schools themselves, making them more explicitly society's agent for seeing that children learn these essential lessons for life' (p. 280). A school campus focused on emotional literacy would be 'a place where students feel respected, cared about, and bonded to classmates, teachers and the school itself' (p. 280).

What would a teacher with a high EQ actually do? They would influence. In influencing, they would exercise power, the right sort of power as Goleman argues it, not the power of the old boss manager. It is power that works as 'emotional contagion' (p. 114), operating as it does as a 'deep and intimate' dominance that leads to confluence, to synchrony of teacher and learner. In this way, the teacher/student relationship becomes more closely aligned with the relationship that exists between the good salesperson and their client. If we have already begun to consider our students as not simply learners but as clients of our professional services, then surely, it could be argued, this is an appropriate way to change the nature of the teacher/student relationship.

All this would frame EQ as a useful element in a new curriculum for the professional development of teachers, whether at the in-service or pre-service level. It must therefore trivialise or ignore the work of those critics (eg. Hatcher 1998; Dewhurst 1997; Boler in press) who ask about the broader interests served by EQ advocacy. Such critics argue the dangers of accepting the idea of emotion as a subset of cognition-ie, that EQ works to tame alien elements of the human being that are resistant to the sort governance needed for individuals as active and enterprising members of a multinational, globalised workplace. To include EQ in a list of generic attributes would, at the very least, mean that professional development programs must play down any suspicion that EQ recuperates potentially alien elements of social interaction in the interests of corporate capital. It becomes unthinkable that EQ may work as a means of instrumentalising passion (Hatcher, 1998) in the service of seamless corporate communication and transactions, a mechanism which allows an individual to become governable as a self-regulating human resource.

Self-regulation for greater professionalism means there can be no end to learning. Professional teachers are supposed to accumulate new skills and knowledge throughout the entire "lifespan", and expect that others will want to do the same. In this logic, learning is understood as a linear-cumulative phenomenon. Corporate modes of professional development involve make-overs that guarantee a rust-free condition for the duration of the teacher's working life. As explained in Designing Professional Portfolios for Change (Burke, 1997), the point of "inviting [teachers] to become full partners in a continuous improvement process" (Burke 1997, Forward) is to redress the flabbiness and mediocrity for which age can be no excuse:

The sort of makeovers that Burke has in mind have little to do with pedagogical practice, but much to do with personified poultry. She asks teacher to consider their identity in terms of its (problematic) similarity with Ollie the Head-in-the-Sand Ostrich, Dan the Drilling Woodpecker, Laura the Look-alike Penguin, or its (positive) similarity to Cathy the Carrier Pigeon or Jonathan Livingstone Seagull. This is what Burke understands to be the sort of cutting edge thinking needed for teacher development that is 'personalised, allowing choice and encouraging reflection' (Burke, 1997, p. 1). The above-named typologies are part of her strategy for facilitating professional teacher development as 'self-reflection'. In keeping with the thrust of professional development more generally, Burke seeks to move teachers away from the 'wrong sort' of investment in formal study programs and other 'top-down' or imposed activities, towards the 'right sort' of emphasis on investigative strategies and reflective practices enacted in the context of the workplace.

It would be heartening if Burke's trite and patronising package was an exception in the burgeoning literature that is currently naming the professional development of teachers. This does not seem to us to be the case. Critical thought as it is constituted here is hardly likely to remind us of the inventedness-the fragility, partiality and contingency-of the very things that teachers take for granted as eternal, universal and true. While corporatisation is clearly presenting opportunities to teachers, it can also invite them into a world of blandness, quick fixes, and mindless optimism. What is not on offer is an invitation to teachers to act as players not pawns in the discursive games of truth which are currently making the teacher more professional.

It is naïve and needlessly pessimistic to mourn the loss of some old world order that offered a better life for everyone and in which teachers were the saviours of those in charge. It is also dishonest. It is equally naïve to accept unquestioningly a new enterprising culture as the solution to creating an excellent education for all. Implementing a fair and appropriate education for everyone is an on-going and daunting task. The newly imagined community of professional educators undoubtedly has exciting possibilities. Teachers have a vast menu of personal and professional development opportunities and an array of exciting new curricula as a platform from which to create an identity for the new millennium. However, the persuasiveness of the language of excellence, best practice and leadership, coupled with the way in which the corporate sector has tended to marginalise and reduce the value of the classroom teacher in the development of children, means that the new images of the professional educator are problematic as well as seductive. As a consequence, it is important that those in universities who provide professional development at all stages of a teacher's career insist on critical engagement with the various truths on offer in the marketplace. All eyes should remain, not just on the teacher, or on the new formulae for excellence, but on the variety of ways in which teachers are being asked to 'make' themselves as corporate professionals.

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