Making Modern Gentlemen

A Critical Ethnography of Health and Physical Education in

an Elite Boys’ School

A thesis submitted to fulfil requirements for the degree of

Doctor of Philosophy (PhD)

Sydney School of Education and Social Work

Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences

The University of Sydney

by Rachel Ann O’Brien

2019

This is to certify that, to the best of my knowledge, the content of this thesis is my own work. This thesis has not been submitted for any degree or other purposes.

I certify that the intellectual content of this thesis is the product of my own work and that all the assistance received in preparing this thesis and sources have been acknowledged.

Rachel Ann O’Brien

June 30, 2019

Abstract

This thesis explores the multiple and complex ways that masculinities are constructed within an elite boys’ school in Sydney, Australia. Elite boys’ schools in Australia were founded on the model of British Public Schooling, where a focus on educating the

‘whole man’ included sport and physical education as a key pillar. Health and physical education subjects and sport remain an active site in the construction and reconstruction of masculinities in many of these schools. Based on a 6-month critical ethnography in one school, this thesis explores how two groups of 15 and 16 year olds and their teachers engage with and respond to curriculum aimed at ‘softening’ or ‘reshaping’ elite schools’ masculine traditions.

The thesis contributes to men and masculinities studies and the field of health and physical education, in particular knowledge about masculinities and sexualities education. It does this through a rich, in-depth account of adolescent boys’ experiences of ‘becoming men’ in an elite school context. In addition, the thesis explores the relatively recent inclusion of discussions of masculinity, sexuality, and gender equality in HPE curriculum in elite boys’ schools and provides a platform for capturing how teachers engage with the possibilities of enacting a critical pedagogy of masculinities and sexualities education.

The thesis demonstrates how a critical ethnographic methodology can engage young people and teachers in opportunities to make visible routine practices of masculinity,

such as the continued privileging of particular ideal masculinities: the businessman, the gentleman and the sportsman. Overall, the thesis finds that this elite school, despite its efforts to disrupt masculine traditions, engaged in a project of ‘gentrifying masculinities’ through a ‘curriculum of manhood’ reminiscent of the historical ‘whole man’ of elite boys’ education.

iii

Acknowledgements

Writing this thesis has been anything but an individual project. As I write these acknowledgements, I understand the impossibility of recognising all who have guided, encouraged, and inspired me on this journey. So, to those I have acknowledged and those I haven’t, thank you. I look forward to celebrating together.

First, I wish to acknowledge my supervisors for their enormous work and dedication to this project. Thank you to Professor Susan Goodwin for your encouragement, for nurturing and stretching my ideas, and for your enthusiasm and belief in this work.

Thanks to Doctor Kate Russell for guiding me at the inception of this project and for helping me to develop my theoretical thinking.

To my PhD teammates who kept me sane during what is, arguably, not a team sport at all. To my dear friends Becki, Anita and Claire, thank you for spurring me on, for generously sharing ideas, for debating life directions, and for celebrating small (and big) victories. To my wonderful family, Samuel and Lindsay, thank you for your love and encouragement, for picking up the pieces (and laundry) when I couldn’t juggle them all, and for believing in me even if you had no idea what I was doing. To my parents, who have always encouraged my love of education, thank you for your listening ear and kind words and for always reminding me to take things one step at a time. Thank you to my dear “nanny family” who opened their home and hearts to me and gave me my first insight into elite school life.

To the wonderful teachers and students who made this research possible, thank you!

Thank you for opening up your space and your practice, for sharing your ideas, and for welcoming me more warmly than I could have hoped for. You reminded me that, amongst the frustrations and disappointments, incredible things can happen in school.

All glory be to Christ.

Contributions

I would like to acknowledge the contribution of Ruth McHugh who edited this thesis and Lea Hazelton who transcribed data from research conversations and interviews.

Authorship

This thesis contains material previously published.

A version of Chapter Three of this thesis is published as:

O'Brien, R. A. (2019). 'Who's that girl sitting with the boys?': Negotiating researcher identity in fieldwork with adolescent boys. Sport, Education and Society, Online. https://doi.org/10.1080/13573322.2018.1543653

I was the first and only author of this paper.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE- INTRODUCTION ...... 1 OVERVIEW OF THE THESIS ...... 10

CHAPTER TWO- MAKING MEN: MASCULINITY, ELITE SCHOOLING, AND HEALTH AND PHYSICAL EDUCATION ...... 12 THEORISING MASCULINITIES IN SCHOOLS ...... 13

Multiple masculinities ...... 15 Gender hierarchy ...... 16 Gender and sexuality ...... 21 Masculine embodiment ...... 22 Schools and the construction of masculinity ...... 25 Boys’ education in Australian schools ...... 29 WHY STUDY BOYS IN ‘ELITE’ SCHOOLS? ...... 32

Social class and masculinities...... 34 Studying ‘up’ ...... 36 Elite education ...... 37 Elite boys’ schooling in Australia ...... 39 WHY FOCUS ON SPORT, HEALTH, AND PHYSICAL EDUCATION? ...... 42

CONCLUSION ...... 49

CHAPTER THREE- METHOD AND METHODOLOGY ...... 51 APPROACH TO RESEARCH ...... 52

A STUDY OF BOYS IN SCHOOL ...... 54

Doing and writing research: The thesis ...... 58 The setting ...... 63 METHODS...... 67

Class time and field notes ...... 68 Research conversations...... 72 Interviews ...... 76 Data analysis...... 78 The key participants ...... 80 CONCLUSION ...... 85

vii

CHAPTER FOUR- NEGOTIATING RESEARCHER IDENTITY IN FIELDWORK WITH ADOLESCENT BOYS ...... 87 NEGOTIATING ENTRY...... 91

DEVELOPING A RESEARCHER IDENTITY ...... 93

DOING SPORT WITH BOYS ...... 97

TALKING SEX WITH BOYS ...... 99

DOING DEPORTMENT WITH BOYS ...... 101

BECOMING ‘ONE OF THE BOYS’? ...... 103

CONCLUSION ...... 106

CHAPTER FIVE- BECOMING ‘THE KINGSTON MAN’: A CURRICULUM OF MANHOOD AT KINGSTON COLLEGE ...... 109 A CURRICULUM OF MANHOOD AT KINGSTON COLLEGE ...... 112

The Kingston businessman ...... 117 The Kingston gentleman...... 119 The Kingston sportsman...... 128 TEACHING ‘THE KINGSTON MAN’ ...... 138

GENTRIFICATION – FROM BOYS TO KINGSTON MEN ...... 141

CONCLUSION ...... 145

CHAPTER SIX- THERE’S MORE TO BEING A MAN ...... 147 HETERONORMATIVITY AND COMPULSORY HETEROSEXUALITY AT KINGSTON ...... 150

HETEROSEXUAL US / HOMOSEXUAL THEM ...... 152

INSTITUTIONAL AFFIRMATIONS OF COMPULSORY HETEROSEXUALITY ...... 157

“GAY GUYS ARE MORE LIKE GIRLS” ...... 163

‘JOKING’ AND HOMOPHOBIC LANGUAGE ...... 165

GIRLS, BEING BISEXUAL, AND PORN ...... 170

GENDER AND SEXUALITY REGIMES ...... 173

CONCLUSION ...... 176

CHAPTER SEVEN- BEING COOL AT KINGSTON ...... 178 viii

HETEROSEXUALITY AND HIERARCHIES ...... 181

BEING ‘WELL EDUCATED’: VIOLENCE AND RUGBY CULTURE ...... 189

EMBODYING ‘THE KINGSTON MAN’ ...... 192

Teachers and their masculine bodies ...... 199 Being a woman in a boys’ school...... 202 CHALLENGING THE ‘MAN BOX’ ...... 205

CONCLUSION ...... 210

CHAPTER EIGHT- CONCLUSION: THINKING ABOUT MASCULINITIES, SCHOOLING, AND HEALTH AND PHYSICAL EDUCATION ...... 212 THE ELITE BOYS’ SCHOOL: “IT’S MODERNISING” ...... 217

MASCULINITY AT KINGSTON COLLEGE ...... 222

A curriculum of manhood ...... 223 Homohysteria and social class ...... 228 REFLECTING ON CRITICAL ETHNOGRAPHY ...... 230

CONCLUSION ...... 234

Chapter One- Introduction

Manhood is neither static nor timeless. Manhood is not the manifestation

of an inner essence; it is socially constructed. Manhood does not bubble

up to consciousness from our biological constitution; it is created in our

culture. In fact, the search for a transcendent, timeless definition of

manhood is itself a sociological phenomenon- we tend to search for the

timeless and eternal during moments of crisis, those points of transition

when the old definitions no longer work and the new definitions are yet

to be firmly established. (Kimmel, 2012, p. 4)

The behaviour and attitudes of Australian boys and men are in the spotlight more than ever before. This has been driven by public attention to the abuses perpetrated by some men and exposed through the #MeToo1 movement and, in Australia in particular, inquiries into family violence, institutional child sexual abuse, and sexual assault in

1 The #MeToo movement is a movement against sexual harassment and sexual assault. The movement was founded in 2006 by Tarana Burke but spread virally in October 2017 as a hashtag on social media when American actress Alyssa Milano popularised the phrase on Twitter. The #MeToo movement has drawn significant attention to the extent of problems with sexual assault and harassment and behaviour that objectifies women.

workplaces and on university campuses. There is increasing attentiveness to issues of boy’s and men’s health and wellbeing, bodies and body image, educational success, socialisation, fathering, and more (The Men’s Project & Flood, 2018). As Kimmel

(2012) proposes above, manhood is created in our culture and we search for a transcendent definition of manhood in those times of transition where the old definitions no longer work and the new are not yet firmly established. This is, perhaps, one of those times in our culture where ‘traditional’ understandings of manhood no longer fit, and where we have become more attuned to the destructive nature of ‘toxic masculinity’2. So, where to from here? This thesis investigates the multiple and complex ways that manhood is created in the particular culture of an elite boys’ school in Sydney Australia, to consider boys’ experiences of becoming men and possibilities for developing positive masculinities in schools.

My interest in elite boys’ schools was sparked years before commencing my doctoral research, while I was studying to become a Health and Physical Education teacher and working part time as a nanny. A regular part of my role was driving the boys home from the elite school they attended after they finished sport training. During this time the eldest son and I talked extensively about his interest in building up his body and becoming more muscular. Over the years he engaged in various body building

2 Toxic masculinity is a term used to describe the collective socialisation of men which has resulted in acceptance of a narrow version of manhood characterised by adherence to ‘traditional’ male gender roles that restrict the expression of emotion and encourage dominance and aggression.

strategies. One day I asked him why he was so interested in having a big body, he told me it was “for power”. He wasn’t referring to physical power, but the power afforded to men whose bodies exude muscularity and, therefore, masculinity. The boy went on to suggest that this power he spoke of would be important for when he walked into an interview or a boardroom. This started my thinking about how and where boys developed these beliefs about masculinity and I was particularly interested in considering if and how these messages were conveyed in school. What also struck me in this conversation was that this boy was already ‘preparing for power’; he envisaged himself in a boardroom. I wondered whether there might have been something specific about being educated in an elite boys’ school that developed this kind of vision.

Education of Australian school children is divided between Government and non-

Government schools, with the non-Government sector comprising Catholic and

‘independent’ schools (Tsolidis & Dobson, 2006). In 2017, 65.6% of Australian students attended Government schools, 19.9% attended Catholic schools, and 14.5% attended independent schools (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2019). Single-sex schooling is more common in the non-Government sector, and as a result is often associated with relatively elite schools (Tsolidis & Dobson, 2006). The ‘boy’s school’ has existed in Australia since 1831 when the first ‘independent’ boys’ school was founded. High fee-charging ‘independent’ boys’ schools (which I will refer to as elite schools) are a small but significant and high-profile sector of the Australian schooling market. Since their inception, these schools have prided themselves on producing a disproportionate number of Australia’s leaders in politics, business, and the corporate professions (Proctor, 2011).

Single-sex schooling in Australia and internationally has been the subject of debate for decades. The ongoing commitment to the ‘boy’s school’ does not mean there have not been developments in thinking through what the boy’s school is and does. Indeed, the boy’s school was significantly transformed through what is known as the ‘boy turn’ in policy, educational politics, and research (see for example, Weaver-Hightower, 2008).

As discussed further in Chapter Two, the ‘boy turn’ was centred around a belief that boys have become disadvantaged as a result of increasing feminisation of schooling.

The ‘boy turn’ signalled a significant shift in policy, politics, and practice to address the perceived issue of boys’ underachievement in education. The most familiar interventions to address the ‘boy problem’ of underachievement in schools called for a more ‘boy-friendly’ curriculum; more male teachers; and single-sex classes (Martino,

Kehler, & Weaver-Hightower, 2009). The underlying assumptions in these debates suggest that boys and girls are biologically and naturally different from one another, but that all boys are also naturally alike one another. Thus, boys collectively have specific learning needs, which male teachers are better equipped to address. Single-sex education purports to allow for boys’ needs to be best catered for in an environment free from the distraction of girls (Martino et al., 2009).

Although there is debate about the educational advantage that attendance at an elite all- boys’ school provides, enrolment in these schools continues to be extremely competitive. As Stoudt, Keriloff, Reichert & Ravitch (2010) suggest following their examination of a private school in the United States, “For many parents, choosing private schooling is an act of class consciousness. Maintaining or improving socioeconomic privilege is a serious and expensive long-term investment with much at

stake” (p. 44). Attendance at an elite school brings significant advantage; there is a perception that these students are educated in the best facilities, with an abundance of resources, and by highly qualified teachers- although there is a lack of evidence that this type schooling results in better educational outcomes. Perhaps most importantly parents and students buy into what Prosser has called the “economy of eliteness”

(2016); the marketable ‘prestige’ and ‘status’ associated with elite schooling. As Nader

(1974) argued, ‘studying up’, exploring the world of elite education, is essential for the development of adequate theory of the power at play in the society. In all countries where research has been conducted within elite schools, this research has provided important insight into how these schools underwrite and rewrite class, race, and gender privilege and power (Koh & Kenway, 2016). While there is a developing body of research in elite schools in Australia, continued investigation into the intersection of class and gender can provide greater insight into how modern men are made in elite boys’ schools.

In Australia, the ‘boy turn’ reinvigorated elite boys’ schools with a sense of relevance and purpose. Many elite boys’ schools responded to the ‘boy crisis’ with strategic promotion of their new expertise in ‘soft-skilling’ and fostering of ‘emotional intelligence’ (Proctor, 2011; Weaver-Hightower, 2008). In the modern schooling market, many elite boys’ schools are engaging in the ongoing process of addressing problematic forms of masculinity. This signifies the end of an ‘old era’ and the

beginning of a new3, where the outmoded “rough, tough, unreflective masculinity was replaced by a newer, gentler more thoughtful model” (Proctor, 2011, p. 846). Elite boys’ schools have expressed this development in several ways including offering a wider variety of sports; developing a values-focused approach to sports participation; encouraging participation and achievement in the creative arts including music, drama and visual arts; and education about domestic violence, sexuality, and masculinities.

Yet there has been little scholarly research specifically focused on these developments.

Raewyn Connell, an influential Australian sociologist, has made significant contributions to demonstrating how school institutions are an integral site of gender construction and reproduction (Connell, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2008). There is now a significant body of research which attests to the importance of the school in constructing masculinity, for example Connell (1996) referred to schools as a

“masculinity-making device” (p. 215) while Mac an Ghaill (1994) referred to schools as a “masculinity agency” (p. 1). These concepts emphasise that schools are not neutral in the construction of gender, but instead are actively engaged in this process. In particular, sport, health, and physical education within the schooling context is a unique

3 See Chapter Two for a more in-depth discussion of elite schooling, social class, and masculinity and how these concepts have transformed from the inception of elite schools to the making of ‘modern’ gentleman.

milieu which Connell suggests is a masculine vortex, blending “power, symbolization, and emotion in a particularly potent combination” (1996, p. 12).

The focus on sport and physical education in elite schools is not new, in fact, it has long been a key tenet of education founded on the British Public Schooling model. The elite boys’ schools of Australia have traditionally placed emphasis on sport and organised games as a significant component in creating the ‘whole man’ (Crotty, 2000). In the late 1800s sport in private boys’ schools was considered an integral process for developing “the character and values of those who were seen as the future civic leaders”

(Jenkings & Sherington, 1995, p. 2). Competitive team games were a means for building character, moral training and indoctrinating gentlemanly virtues of the affluent middle class. In particular, aggressive team sports (such as Rugby) served the purpose of fostering ‘masculine’ attributes such as being competitive, successful, and strong

(O’Flynn & Lee, 2010). Given the historical context of sport and militaristic ideologies, as embedded within elite boys’ schooling, it is interesting to consider how these historical meanings operate in the lives of the young people in elite schools. This thesis considers how the traditional tenets of making the ‘whole man’ operate in a contemporary elite boys’ school.

In the current climate rife with questioning and problematising manhood, discussion of the social pressures men face to be masculine have become part of the cultural milieu.

Recent research has explored how these social pressures operate and affect men’s lives, through the concept of the Man Box (The Men’s Project & Flood, 2018). The ‘Man

Box’ refers to a “set of beliefs within and across society that place pressure on men to

act in a certain way” (The Men’s Project & Flood, 2018, p. 6). There are seven key pillars of the Man Box which are: self-sufficiency, acting tough, physical attractiveness, rigid gender roles, heterosexuality and homophobia, hypersexuality, and aggression and control. These social pressures to conform to what it means to be a ‘real man’ impact on boys and men, and on women, often negatively. Another way, made popular in the media, to describe these types of social pressures which result in negative effects on other men and on women is ‘toxic masculinity’. More recently, as public discussion of gender inequality and violence against women has increased, there has been a shift to consider how educational institutions, such as university colleges, and the boys’ school contribute to the reproduction of gender inequality.

Although the Man Box may influence boys, regardless of their social class or schooling experience, there is evidence to suggest that the elite school culture is particularly implicated in the production of ‘toxic masculinity’. After a horrific incident of group sexual assaults in an elite boys’ school in Sydney in 2000, an in-depth examination described the culture in the following way:

From elite boarding schools to college to the boardroom, the masculinity

of success separates emotion and friendship from each other and

degrades caring and affection. Boys and men who speak of their feelings

are mistrusted… expression of feelings other than anger, jubilation,

scorn, and jocularity is considered feminine, and homosexual

relationships are despised. (Poynting & Donaldson, 2005, p. 343)

Poynting and Donaldson (2005) suggest the ‘ruling-class’ style of masculinity produced in elite boys’ schools, colleges, and then within boardrooms adheres to the Man Box norms; boys and men distance themselves from femininity and despise homosexuality to confirm their own masculinity.

One of the key insights of contemporary scholarship on gender is that in any particular context, specific definitions of manhood (and womanhood) are dominant. Connell

(1987) described this as ‘hegemonic masculinity’ and this concept has been taken up widely internationally. More recently ‘toxic masculinity’ emerged outside of academia as a term used to describe these dominant constructions of masculinity. My research has explored the dominant constructions of manhood in the elite boys’ school context in Australia. Nearly 15 years after Poynting and Donaldson (2005) found that adherence to ‘traditional’ masculinity in an elite school made hardening and brutalisation practices thinkable, I considered how masculinity is constructed in light of contemporary advances in our understanding of manhood.

This research investigated boys’ experiences of becoming men in an elite boys’ school through a critical ethnography of health and physical education to answer the questions of: what are boys’ experiences of school culture, sport, and learning about masculinity at school; how are masculinities shaped by sport, health and physical education in an elite boys’ school; and how do school practices and curriculum construct manhood in an elite boys’ school?

Overview of the Thesis

Chapter Two explores the literature on masculinities, paying particular attention to

Raewyn Connell’s theorising of gender and how gender is constructed in schools. The second part of this chapter considers two questions. Why study boys in elite schools, and why study health and physical education? Chapter Three discusses my approach to research including, the methodology of critical ethnography and how this was applied to my research in an elite boys’ school. It details the decision making and experiences of developing and implementing research design and methods. I finish by introducing the key participants in this study. Chapter Four draws on my experiences of conducting a study of boys in an elite school in Australia and discusses the processes of negotiating researcher identity. It is a reflexive account of the ‘hidden history’ of ethnographic research. Chapter Five discusses the ways that the official and hidden curriculums operate at an elite boys’ school to develop a ‘curriculum of manhood’.

Chapter Six looks specifically at a unit taught during my fieldwork called, There’s

More to Being a Man, and considers how boys defined the ‘Man Box’ and particularly how they equated gender with sexuality. Chapter Seven explores the social hierarchies at the school, considering what it takes to ‘be cool’ in the elite boys’ school. It considers the role of the body and embodiment in communicating social status. Chapter Eight is situated within the context and claims of the ‘modernisation’ of elite boys’ schooling.

It draws on the key themes of each chapter to consider the implications of this research for theory and practice. I reflect on the implementation of and usefulness of using critical ethnographic methodology in this research. Finally, I suggest the major

contributions made by this research and suggest avenues for moving forward conversations about masculinities in elite boys’ schools.

Chapter Two- Making Men: Masculinity, Elite Schooling, and Health

and Physical Education

The study of masculinity is a relatively new endeavour in sociology. Previously, masculinity was often taken for granted and considered naturally enacted by men whose bodies are biologically male (Pascoe, 2006; Pascoe & Bridges, 2016). However, with the feminist movement came a deeper examination of assumed natural ‘gender roles’, with a particular pushback against the gendered inequality experienced in women’s lives. Although the gendered nature of women’s lives is becoming increasingly visible, we often fail to recognise how men’s lives are equally organised by gender. For men, gender is a mechanism that offers privilege, and mechanisms that afford privilege are often invisible to those who receive privilege. As Kimmel (1990) writes, “Marginality is visible and painfully visceral. Privilege is invisible and painlessly pleasant” (p. 94).

Thanks to the feminist critique of male privilege we are becoming more aware of the taken-for-granted power and privileges men experience on account of being men. It is important to recognise men as gendered and better understand their experiences of gender, because gender is one of the major ways through which power, privilege, and inequality are reproduced (Pascoe & Bridges, 2016).

As this chapter will explore in more detail, gender is a relational concept. In contemporary Australian society (and similarly reflected in Western countries globally), women continue to experience inequality. This inequality is expressed in a

multitude of ways such as an enduring significant pay gap for equal work, pervasive gendered division of labour, and as women overwhelmingly being the victims of domestic violence. An understanding of gender as relational must not only cast a lens on girls and women but look towards boys and men to understand the picture of inequality. As Flood (2017) argues, “gender inequalities are sustained in large part by men- by men’s attitudes, behaviours, identities and relations” (para 5). Flood and

Kimmel are suggesting that any real progress towards gender equality must engage boys and men and will require a critique of men’s lives and the inherent (and sometimes hidden) privileges of being men. With this in mind, this chapter first aims to explore theories of masculinity, paying particular attention to masculinities research which has illuminated the role of schooling in constructing masculinities. Next this chapter will consider the nature of boys’ schooling in Australia and elite education to answer the question, why study boys in elite schools? Finally, it will investigate the context for the research of this thesis, to demonstrate why a study of health and physical education in elite boys’ schools is useful.

Theorising Masculinities in Schools

Traditionally, sociologists understood masculinity to be an array of gender practices enacted by men whose bodies are biologically male. In the last three decades, there have been significant developments in the theorising of gender (and in particular masculinity), which have impacted conceptualisations of what it means to be a boy/man and how one actually becomes or is a boy/man. Contemporary theories of masculinity have essentially abandoned traditional concepts of biological determinism to consider

masculinity as being culturally defined and contextually bound (Connell, 1995; Gilbert

& Gilbert, 1998). That is, masculinity is not just the gender practices that men, who are biologically male, naturally enact. Sociological research has critiqued and challenged these long-held cultural beliefs and presented a range of alternative arguments. One such theory is the sex-role socialisation model, which presents an individually focused approach based on the assumptions that adults teach children sex roles through early socialisation. Although a popular psychological approach in the field of education, sex- role socialisation theory is problematic as it does not provide an ample account of how relationships shift (Hansot & Tyack, 1988). Connell (2002) pinpoints this weakness, adding that this theory posits change as something that happens to sex roles and does not grasp the concept of change as a dialectic arising from within gender relations.

Biologically deterministic theories of gender consider gender as natural, or coming from within (Pascoe & Bridges, 2016). Connell’s theory instead views gender as coming from without; “as socially organised and embedded in social institutions and interactions” (Pascoe & Bridges, 2016, p. 13). This theoretical change gave rise to entirely new ways of thinking about, researching, and theorising masculinity. A sociocultural understanding of gender argues there is no single pattern of masculinity globally, instead there are multiple patterns of masculinity (Connell, 2008). In this thesis, along with Pascoe and Bridges (2016), masculinity is defined as “the practices, behaviours, attitudes, sexualities, emotions, positions, bodies, organizations, institutions, and all manner of expectations culturally associated with (though not limited to) people understood to be male” (p. 4).

Multiple masculinities

There are multiple ways to be a man and diverse ways for men to express their gender relationally. The emergent sociology of masculinity became a “critical study of men, their behaviours, practices, values and perspectives” (Whitehead & Barrett, 2001, p.

14). New sociologists of masculinity theorised a model of multiple masculinities rather than a single masculine ‘role’ (Connell, 1995). This view of masculinity suggests a movement towards using the plural terminology of masculinities, indicating the plurality and diversity of masculine experience and embodiment. Connell (1995) argues gender is composed of “social practices that constantly refer to the body” (p. 71), but are not limited to the body. These gender practices are organised by four larger social structures and forms of social relations: (1) power relations (the way in which control and authority is exercised along gender lines e.g. the social structure of patriarchy in which men are constructed as a dominant group); (2) production relations (division of labour along gendered lines and the social and economic consequences of this); (3) emotional relations- cathexis ( the organisation of emotional and sexual attachments among people and groups along gendered lines); and (4) symbolic relations (the way in which culture, language and symbols contribute to, organise and define gender)

(Connell, 1987, 1995, 2009).

One of the most significant aspects of this theory is the assertion that relations within a sex category are as important to our understanding of gender inequality as are the relations between sex categories (Carrigan, Connell, & Lee, 1985). Critical feminist approaches to men and masculinity assert that masculinity is a relational construct that

can be experienced in multiple forms positioned within a hierarchy (Swain, 2006). This thesis considers masculinity as relational and involving a performance of cultural knowledge and understanding. Thus, “being a boy is a matter of constructing oneself in, and being constructed by, the available ways and meanings of being a boy in a particular time and place” (Swain, 2006, p. 319). As Gilbert and Gilbert (1998) contend, it is about negotiating a “set of storylines” or “repertoires of action” (p. 51). These

‘storylines’ are produced and reproduced from early childhood, and identity is negotiated through interaction with family, peers, and the broader cultural milieu.

However, as Waling (2019) suggests, there is a tendency to name masculinity as a series of typologies and types rather than using masculinities to denote fluidity.

The multiple masculinities model has been hugely influential in masculinities research.

Countless studies, both on a global and local scale, evidence the ways diverse configurations of masculinity are negotiated in differing social contexts. For example, within a school institution, multiple meanings and ways of expressing gender will be present, as demonstrated in Máirtín Mac an Ghaill’s classic ethnography of British school life (Mac an Ghaill, 1994). This study found that both teachers and students embodied differing patterns of masculinity and femininity, giving different meanings to what it is to be a boy and a future man.

Gender hierarchy

Connell (2000, 2002, 2009, 2016; 2015) argued that men enact and embody diverse patterns of masculinity depending on their position and power within a social hierarchy.

Recognising that more than one kind of masculinity exists is foundational, however without the examination of the dynamic relations between masculinities, this theory can collapse into character typology. Connell suggested four main patterns of masculinity that construct the Western gender order; hegemony, subordination, complicity, and marginalisation. The widely cited notion of hegemonic masculinity draws on Gramsci’s analysis of class relations and the concept of ‘hegemony’. That is, the “cultural dynamic by which a group claims and sustains a leading position in social life” (Connell, 2016).

Hegemonic masculinity can be defined as the configuration of gender

practice which embodies the currently accepted answer to the problem

of the legitimacy of patriarchy which guarantees (or is taken to

guarantee) the dominant position of men and the subordination of

women. (Connell, 2016)

Connell suggested that complicit masculinity describes men who benefit from hegemonic masculinity but are not directly implicated or enacting it; subordinated masculinity describes men who are oppressed by hegemonic masculinity (primarily gay men, as homosexuality is seen as in opposition to masculinity); and marginalised masculinity describes men who may be positioned powerfully in terms of gender but not with regards to class or race4. Connell emphasised that the content of these

4 In more recent reformulations of this theory, a fourth category of nonhegemonic masculinities has been included: protest (or compensatory) masculinities. Protest masculinities are constructed as compensatory

configurations of gender practice varies between place, context and culture. Within an institutional site such as the school, young men measure their masculinity against the dominant hegemonic form, whether or not they match the pattern, often resulting in pressure and dissatisfaction (Connell, 2008). The hegemonic configuration of masculinity is not likely to be the most common, yet it yields the greatest power and authority. It is this dominant form of masculinity that Hickey (2008) described as possessing hyper-masculine attributes, such as hardness, stoicism, and loyalty; attributes which commonly characterise elite athletes.

More recently, some researchers have criticised the concept of hegemonic masculinity, suggesting that it has been oversimplified and overused as an analytical tool. For example, in a study of the construction of masculinity in an English independent junior school, Swain (2006) concluded the terms to describe the masculine hierarchy adopted from Connell (2002) are not comprehensive enough. He found that although

‘hegemonic’, ‘complicit’, ‘marginalised’, and ‘subordinated’ forms of masculinity were present in the school, there was another pattern and relation of masculinity present.

He termed this ‘personalised’ masculinity, which refers to the majority of boys he observed practising alternative masculinities that seemed generally acceptable within the peer-group. Boys who he classified as practising personalised masculinity were a fairly amorphous group, comprising many small well-established friendship networks.

masculinities and are formed in reaction to social positions that lack economic and political power

(Messerschmidt & Messner, 2018).

Friendship groups shared similar interests and within each clique there were popular members, but they were generally non-exclusive groups without any clearly defined leader (Swain, 2006). However, the existence of multiple forms of masculinity is not discordant with the authority of the hegemonic form.

Pascoe (2012) provides a helpful critique of this body of literature which emerged in response to Connell’s theorising: “While Connell intends this model of multiple masculinities to be understood as fluid and conflictual, the multiple masculinities model is more often used to construct static and reified typologies” (p. 8). In Connell and

Messerschmidt’s (2005) rethinking of hegemonic masculinity, they acknowledged the shortcomings of some applications of the concept. Their reformulation of the concept emphasises the relational nature of gender, whereby patterns of masculinity are socially defined and understood in relation to some model of femininity. They called for research on hegemonic masculinity to give closer attention to the practices of women and interplay of femininities and masculinities as well as the hierarchical nature of gender. In order to develop a more holistic understanding of gender hierarchy, research should recognise and investigate the agency of subordinated groups and, equally, the power of dominant groups. Connell and Messerschmidt (2005) suggested a simple framework for studying masculinities which acknowledges the significance of geography and thus analyses masculinities at local, regional and global levels.

Masculinities and hegemonic masculinity must be understood as dynamic

“configurations of practice that are constructed, unfold and change over time” (Connell

& Messerschmidt, 2005, p. 852).

More recent work on hegemonic and nonhegemonic masculinities distinguishes between masculinities that legitimate gender inequality and those that do not

(Messerschmidt & Messner, 2018). Messerschmidt’s (2016) research differentiated

‘hegemonic masculinities’ from ‘dominant’, ‘dominating’, and ‘positive’ forms of masculinities. Hegemonic masculinities are those “masculinities that legitimate an unequal relationship between men and women, masculinity and femininity, and among masculinities” (Messerschmidt & Messner, 2018, p. 41). Dominant masculinities refer to “the most celebrated, common, or current form of masculinity in a particular social setting” (Messerschmidt & Messner, 2018, p. 41), but they are not always associated with gender hegemony. For example, in his interviews with teenage boys

Messerschmidt (2016) found they all identified certain boys who were structurally dominant. These boys were popular, often tough and athletic, attended parties, participated in heterosexuality and had lots of friends. Dominating masculinities exert power or control over people or events, but again, do not necessarily legitimate unequal gender relations. Finally, positive masculinities are those masculinities that contribute to legitimating egalitarian gender relations (Messerschmidt & Messner, 2018). What is considered hegemonic masculinity in a particular culture and context has the potential to change and to be deconstructed. This is the basis of many educational interventions and change programs which aim to challenge gender binaries. The conceptualisation of hegemonic masculinity then should acknowledge potential for change and possibilities for democratising gender relations and eradicating power disparities, not just reproduction of gender hierarchy. Research on dominant, dominating, and positive masculinities is important as it enables a more distinct understanding of how hegemonic masculinities are unique among the diversity of masculinities and how alternative 20

masculinities and gender practices can challenge gender hegemony.

Although there have been many criticisms of use of Connell’s framework of masculinities, the reformulation of this theory (Connell & Messerschmidt, 2005) and more recent scholarly publications (Barber, 2016; Bridges & Pascoe, 2014;

Messerschmidt, 2016) supporting that reformulation, evidence the ongoing usefulness of this approach to masculinities research to investigating unequal gender relations globally.

Poststructural and queer theories are commonly used when investigating gender and sexuality and HPE. Jackson (2018) provides a helpful critique of the limitations of applying queer theory, for example, as opposed to a broader sociological analysis of gender (such as Connell’s). She argues that queer theory has a “limited appreciation of the ways in which heterosexuality works” (p. 152) and a poststructural approach to subjectivity leaves little room for agency or reflexivity. Sociological theories, such as

Connell’s theories applied in this thesis, find strength in their ability to consider structural issues of power and domination and how these influence gender hierarchy.

Gender and sexuality

Gender and sexuality are often viewed as likened constructs with the role of gender in an individual’s life being informed by and impacting how their sexuality is perceived by others. However, Jackson (2018) argues gender and sexuality are not “phenomena of the same order” (p. 139).

‘Gender’... denotes the social division and cultural distinction between

male and female, women and men. ‘Sexuality’ encompasses all

erotically significant aspects of social life including desires, practices,

relationships and identities… Gender is binary (the existence of third

genders or gender-bending practices inevitably refer back to the binary);

sexuality is not, except in terms of object of desire, as homo or hetero

attraction.

Although different concepts, sexuality and gender particularly collide around concepts of heteronormativity, heterosexuality, and homosexuality. Gender, sex, and sexuality are all related and in the last thirty years gender scholars have teased out the complex connections between gender and sexuality in terms of identities, relationships, work and workplaces, and in domestic and public violence (Messerschmidt, Martin, Messner,

& Connell, 2018). In particular, the definition of masculinities adopted in this thesis5, considers masculinities to be inclusive of sexualities; thus, a discussion of sexuality is both inherent to a discussion of masculinities and distinct from gender.

Masculine embodiment

Messner and Sabo (1990) note that the feminist movement has been a significant contributor to the study of men, their bodies and sport. Indeed, feminist scholarship

5 Found at the start of this section.

provides a theory through which men, as well as women, may be liberated from the constraints of sexism. Bodies, as a physical and social embodiment of gender, are considered a significant symbol of feminist oppression and have been a key matter of deliberation for feminist scholars. Pascoe and Bridges argue, “in contrast to earlier approaches, a gender relations approach acknowledges the importance of biology without relying on it as a causal explanation for gender” (2016, p. 12). Connell (1995) theorises what she terms the reproductive arena to explain how the social construction of gender and biology can be held together. As Connell (1995) suggests, “we are talking about a historical process involving the body, not a fixed set of biological determinants.

Gender is a social practice that constantly refers to bodies and what bodies do, it is not social practice reduced to the body” (p. 71). Connell and Messerschmidt (2005) note that theorising the pattern of embodiment involved in hegemony requires more attention. To understand embodiment and its relation to hegemony we need to understand that bodies are both objects and agents in social practice.

Bodies are involved more actively, more intimately, and more intricately

in social processes than theory has usually allowed. Bodies participate

in social action by delineating courses of social conduct- the body is a

participant in generating social practice. It is important not only that

masculinities be understood as embodied but also that the interweaving

of embodiment and social context be addressed (Connell &

Messerschmidt, 2005, p. 851).

Bodies generate and are generated by social practices and an understanding of masculinities must consider the ways in which bodies are interwoven with social context and practices.

Swain suggests, “masculinity does not exist as an ontological given but comes into existence as people act” (2006, p. 319). That is, masculinity is both a series of processes and practices which refer to bodies and what bodies do. Major themes in the development of boys’ masculinity are the aesthetic and functional development of the body. Hegemonic masculinity utilises the physical male body as a symbolic tool, whereby masculinity lies within a male’s ability to construct a muscular body. The body is considered as a fundamental component of identity and the process of making and becoming a body is inextricably intertwined with the making of self (Shilling, 2003).

A feminist approach to masculinities, such as that presented by Messner and Sabo

(1990), suggests that boys and men operate from a stance of greater power than females, but like their female counterparts, struggle with the societal expectations placed upon them to embody the feminine and masculine ideal. “A feminist study of men and masculinity, then, aims at developing an analysis of men’s problems and limitations compassionately yet within the context of a feminist critique of male privilege”

(Messner & Sabo, 1990, p. 13). This thesis is interested in better understanding boys’ embodied experiences of masculinity to both shed light on the challenges faced when constructing masculine identities and bodies, and to critique the inherent privilege ingrained in gender hierarchy.

Schools and the construction of masculinity

Schools are the social arena in which much of gender development occurs, so the role of schools in the making of gender should be carefully considered. Gender and sexualities are relational and (re)produced through the interactions, discursive, and behavioural strategies of individuals and groups to communicate social and cultural norms. In addition, and of equal importance, is the role that schools play in this process.

Schools and other social institutions serve two functions: they privilege

certain groups and identities in society while marginalizing others, and

they legitimize this social order by couching it in the language of

‘normalcy’ and ‘common sense’. (Kumashiro, 2002, p. 45)

Schools are not neutral in the production of gender and sexualities, they play an active role in constructing, regulating, and communicating cultural messages. In Australia, a significant body of research has developed about gender and sexuality education in schools. Sexuality at school is discursively constructed through everyday schooling processes and practices (Allen, 2005; Youdell, 2005) and this constitution is evident in sex education history (Sears, 1992), curriculum (Measor, Miller, & Tiffin, 2000), classroom pedagogy (McKinney, 2014; Ollis, 2017; Sanjakdar et al., 2015), teachers’ work (Ferfolja, 2008), peer group interaction (Fulcher, 2017; Hilton, 2003) and sexual cultures (Epstein & Johnson, 1998; Pascoe, 2006). There are several notable studies in schools which evidence that sexuality education is a site where inequality is reinforced

(Fields, 2008; Kehily, 2005; Kendall, 2013).

Formal gender and sexuality education fall within the remit of Health and Physical

Education6 (HPE) in Australia and has been a site of ongoing contestation. In the current iteration of the Australian Curriculum: Health and Physical Education (Australian

Curriculum Assessment and Reporting Authority, 2014) gender and sexuality education lies within the strand, ‘personal, social and community health’ and is addressed within the context of ‘relationships and sexuality’. However, sexuality education has a history of being a content area often ‘gifted’ to outside providers, such as Family Planning staff and programs (Leahy & McCuaig, 2013). Recently, researchers of gender and sexuality education in Australia and New Zealand (Coll, O’Sullivan, & Enright, 2018; Fitzpatrick

& Burrows, 2017; Ollis, 2017) have called for more critical, student-centred sexuality education, but there continues to be limited evidence of this type of pedagogy being practiced in schools.

Research and theory about gendered organisations inform an understanding of gender relations in schools. There is a wealth of research which demonstrates schools are an

6 Health education and physical education is differently named and positioned within schools both across and within countries. For example, in England health education is part of Personal, Social, Health and

Economic Education (PSHE). In New Zealand and Australia health education is paired with physical education. In New Zealand and in some states in Australia this is referred to as Health and Physical

Education (HPE), while in the state of New South Wales in Australia it is referred to as Personal

Development, Health, and Physical Education (PDHPE) (Leahy, Burrows, McCuaig, Wright, & Penney,

2016).

institution where masculinities are constructed. For example, Connell (1996) refers to schools as a “masculinity-making device” (p. 215) while Mac an Ghaill (1994) refers to schools as a “masculinity agency” (p. 1). These concepts emphasise that schools are not neutral in the construction of gender, but instead are actively engaged in this process.

The school is an environment where masculine embodiment is learned, produced, practiced, and even resisted. Swain (2006) suggests that bodies in schools can be considered on both a collective and individual basis. The official culture of schooling tries to regulate, discipline and control through both policy and practice. Through this process gendered practices are inculcated. According to Bourdieu (1986), both the body and self are instilled with an ‘embodied capital’ specific to this social setting. As such, bodies are assigned a particular value, which can be used as a resource of power and influence. Kessler, Ashenden, Connell, and Dowsett (1985) argue that each school has a particular ‘gender regime’:

This may be defined as the pattern of practices that constructs various

kinds of masculinity and femininity among staff and students, orders

them in terms of prestige and power, and constructs a sexual division of

labor within the institution. The gender regime is a state of play rather

than a permanent condition. It can be changed deliberately or otherwise,

but it is no less powerful in its effects on pupils for that. It confronts

them as a social fact, which they have to come to terms with somehow.

(p. 42)

Gender regimes are deeply embedded within schools and education systems and can persist for a surprisingly long time (Connell, 2008). Gender patterns in schools are not accidental but are connected to their histories and current systems.

Weaver-Hightower (2008) suggests ‘the’ Australian brand of masculinity is integral to an understanding of boys’ education. This cultural construction of masculinity is part of gender relations and influences how a culture perceives itself and is perceived by others. As Epstein and Johnson (1998) theorise, all industrialised cultures create national identities. Through television, print and social media as well as the workings of the state and institutions (particularly schools) they suggest:

Nationality functions as a kind of meta-narrative of identity. It puts all

the citizens in their places; it defines who belongs and who doesn’t. It

‘nationalises’- names and rewards as national- some groups; excludes

and punishes others as foreign or alien. (Epstein & Johnson, 1998, p. 18)

Masculinity (and gender more broadly) is certainly such a meta-narrative, it acts as a powerful sorting mechanism, defining who is worthy of accessing patriarchal privilege, separating women from men as well as men from other men (Weaver-Hightower,

2008). While certain traits of masculinity are easily identified in this nationalised masculinity, a singular national behaviour of manhood does not exist in practice.

As previously argued, masculinity is multiple, fluid, and changing as the needs of the hegemonic group dictate and shift. However, even with the dynamic nature of

masculinities, the ethos of Australian masculinity is prominent, and its effects can be seen within the education system. The Western conceptions of the masculine

‘arrangement between the sexes’ (now conceptualised as gender) stereotypically positions white, heterosexual men to be stronger, more rational, better suited to particular work, and responsible for protecting women (Goffman, 1977; Weaver-

Hightower, 2008). In Australian schools the nationalised masculinity is also represented through larrikinism and opposition to authority, mateship, sport, militarism, and compulsory heterosexuality. These ideological concepts permeate gender regimes and relations in Australian schools and are significant to the history of Australian schooling and contemporary state of education.

Boys’ education in Australian schools

In the wake of the Women’s Liberation Movement girls’ underachievement in education became a priority area that was debated worldwide. In Australia, the

Commonwealth Schools Commission established an inquiry into girls’ education in

1974. Girls, School and Society was the first major report in Australia to detail sex inequality (the term ‘gender’ was not yet in use) (Committee on Social Change and the

Education of Women, 1975). This report was “among the most successful in a new wave of liberal-progressive reports spawning policies that worked their way through the schools, contributing to broad social change” (Campbell & Proctor, 2014, p. 207).

Because gender is relational, the improvement of girls in the educational system affected the position of men and boys. Thus, the schooling of boys in Australia came under significant scrutiny, particularly in the decade from 1996 to 2006. Some of the

loudest voices in the gender debate in education described the success of girls as a threat to boys, and schools as ‘feminised’ and lacking ‘boy-friendly’ curriculum and pedagogy. The Australian Government became a significant player in the boys’ education debate. Between 2000 and 2005 alone it was estimated that $29,662,300 worth of Australian Commonwealth funding was allocated to various activities in boys’ education (Hartman, 2014; Weaver-Hightower, 2008).

‘Recuperative masculinity’ is a concept developed by Lingard and Douglas (1999) to refer to both the mythopoetic and men’s rights politics associated with the ‘boy turn’ in schooling policy and practices. These politics rejected the move, sought by feminists, to a more equal gender order and gender regimes in the major institutions of society

(e.g. family, schools, workplaces). ‘Recuperative’ specifically indicates the ways in which these politics attempt to recoup the patriarchal gender order and gender regimes

(Lingard, Mills, & Weaver-Hightower, 2012). The essentialising of boys (and girls) is central to this recuperative discourse. “Recuperative masculinity politics fail to problematise dominant constructions of masculinity, and indeed perpetuate them”

(Lingard, Martino, & Mills, 2009, p. 2).

These debates gave renewed justification to boys-only schooling as private schools positioned themselves as a ‘fix’ for boys’ educational woes. Private boys’ schools are constructed as the experts in boys’ education; often employing ‘boy specific’ pedagogies, focusing on leadership development, and embracing ‘modern research’ to guide their practices (Weaver-Hightower, 2008). However, Lingard, Martino, Mills and

Bahr’s (2002) report, Addressing the Educational Needs of Boys, suggested addressing

the issue of boys achievement in schools required moving beyond a narrow focus on boys’ educational strategies to a broader focus on pedagogies and critical reflective practice. Although the ‘boy-turn’ in Australian education produced significantly opposing research and strategies, Imms (2007) argued that from these discussions one common agreement emerged; “boys’ problems appear to be deeply rooted in their perceptions of masculinity” (p. 31). Although the boy-turn in education and the

Australian government’s participation in this largely dissipated after 2006, there is renewed public interest in boys’ masculinity and schools as a result of the increasing cultural attentiveness to gender and sexuality, sexual harassment, and boy’s and men’s health and wellbeing7. This interest requires rigorous research which explores how boys construct their masculinities within the context of schools and beyond.

Kehler & Martino’s (2007) interviews with a small group of boys from both Australia and North America is one example of this type of research and raises questions about boys’ capacity for problematising social relations of masculinity. Although the study had a small sample size of seven participants, the depth of research conducted is notable. Many of the boys interviewed demonstrated a willingness to engage in critical practice and exhibited a highly developed capacity for self-problematisation. However, they also noted that they rarely had opportunities to engage with this sort of questioning within the schooling context. Additionally, Kehler and Martino (2007) observed that

7 More detailed discussed of the cultural moment being referred to can be found in Chapter One of the thesis.

engagement in a critique of hegemonic masculinity did not necessarily result in boys practicing this critique; instead it demonstrated a desire for change and a search for better alternatives of self-expression. The significance of this research again refutes claims that boys are emasculated victims of schooling feminisation. Kehler & Martino

(2007), instead, called for concern about boys to be directed towards research which takes a closer look at the social practices of masculinity among high-school boys to offer an account of the effect of masculinities from the boys’ own standpoint.

Recognising that masculinities are multiple, socially defined, relational, and enacted in and through bodies, this thesis traces the various ways masculinities are negotiated in everyday school life. It considers masculinities in an all boys’ school to explore the processes and contexts through which masculinity is taught and regulated. The following section considers the specific context and concept of elite education, particularly elite boy’s education, and positions this as an important site for educational research on masculinities.

Why Study Boys in ‘Elite’ Schools?

Australian society is not generally characterised by obvious class divisions. Instead, “a perceived social equality among people [is] said to structure social interactions, and equality of opportunity [is] argued to be a major feature of society” (Western, 1991, p.

14). However, there is increasing evidence of socio-economic inequality and stratification within the Australian population (Sheppard & Biddle, 2017; Whiteford,

2014). New data suggest that Australia is less inter-generationally mobile than

previously thought, however few studies have examined the existence and mobility of social class, beyond socioeconomic indicators (Sheppard & Biddle, 2017).

There continues to be important sociological debate around whether and how class matters in reproducing inequality with strong arguments being made for both its declining and continued significance. The concept of class has gone out of fashion, yet class is now more visible in Australia than it has been for decades (Burgmann, Connell,

Mayne, & McGregor, 2004). However, the egalitarian myth is still well and truly alive.

Howard discusses this myth in operation in the United States where most Americans believe that it is possible to become rich through hard work, and those who are poor, are poor because of their lack of effort (Howard, 2008). Egalitarian fantasies, unfortunately, steer us away from talking about social class and revealing the taken- for-granted realities of different class positions.

Social class is a concept that is difficult to define and means different things to different people. For most, social class refers to how much money an individual has or doesn’t have. Common criteria for judging social class include education, income, occupation, and wealth. Although these factors contribute to an individual’s social class, they do not define it (Howard, 2008). Instead, social class is a lived, dynamic process constructed by a particular form of socialised knowledge conditioned in a particular context, history, and way of knowing. Thus, all aspects of an individual’s social condition contribute to their class membership. Howard (2008) argues an individual’s social class is defined by the social conditions of their lived experience and the intrinsic rules of their particular social world. “Social class is an important part of who people

are and their identity, not just about what they have and don’t have” (Howard, 2008, p.

17). Understanding social class in schooling, then is not just about what students have or don’t have, but also about the lived, developing process that influences their ways of knowing and doing. Social class is just one categorical distinction linked to one’s identity. The concept of intersectionality suggests that categorical distinctions such as gender, social class, race/ethnicity, age, and religion are linked to one another

(Crenshaw, 1989). This has been a significant theoretical advancement in gender theory, as gender is now understood to be continuously shaped in relationship to other distinctions and simultaneously affecting those same intersecting distinctions

(Messerschmidt et al., 2018).

Social class and masculinities

Scholars often emphasise the importance of social class in the study of privilege, but it is rarely a focus. Kimmel argues that one explanation for this lack of focus is that “class can be concealed and class feels like something we have earned all by ourselves.

Therefore, class privilege may be the one set of privileges we are least interested in examining because they feel like they are ours by right, not by birth” (2010, p. 8). As

Kimmel explains, this is “all the more reason to take a look at class” (2010, p. 8). In recent years a growing body of research has studied affluent adolescents and revealed the “contours and consequences of privilege that shape affluent adolescent’s experiences and identities” (Howard, Polimeno, & Wheeler, 2014, p. 11). However, examining both class and masculinities in research is less common:

Students of gender tend only to see gender; class analysts tend only to

see social classes. The research questions are often crudely put as being

questions of gender or class instead of asking how gender and class

interact in the lives of historically situated social groups (Gullestad,

1992, p. 62).

Morgan (2005) argues that historically, class and gender analysis has left discussions of men and masculinity relatively underexplored. He suggests the relationship between class and masculinities can be addressed in two ways: ‘the class of masculinity’ and the

‘masculinities of class’. The first approach infers that masculinities vary depending on their class position, so we can find homogenous middle class masculinities (Madrid,

2013). The second approach surmises that mostly male class researchers have allocated men the “role of class agents” and “holders of class power” (Morgan, 2005, p. 168).

Most research on class and masculinities has taken the first approach, but this approach presupposes a concept of class that is an external independent structure and focuses on paid work as class predictor. Willis (1977) and Mac an Ghaill’s (1994) studies in schools showed that multiple masculinities are produced in the same class setting.

Future research in schools should consider the intersectionality of class and gender.

This thesis joins Sarah Chase (2008) and others (Proweller, 1999; Reichert, 2000;

Stoudt, 2009) to explore the intersection and interaction of gender and class in shaping adolescent’s experiences in elite schools.

Studying ‘up’

The early works of scholars such as Mills (1956) and Baltzell (1964) in the United

States and, later, Connell (1977) in Australia offer insight into the formation of the

‘power elites’ or ruling class. However, most analyses of social and political inequality fall short of critiquing the power relations that underlie class privilege in various contexts. This lack of attention to privileged groups is both a gap in the existing research, but more importantly a missing conceptual link in understanding inequality.

Nader’s (1974) highly influential essay on perspectives gained from ‘studying up’ argued for the research gaze to be turned upwards to consider the lives, experiences, systems and politics of the wealthy elites. She argued, “the consequences of not studying up as well as down are serious in terms of developing adequate theory and description” (1974, p. 290).

Within educational scholarship, the lack of attention paid to privilege and the advantages of elite groups is particularly evident (Gaztambide-Fernández & Howard,

2010b). More commonly the gaze is turned ‘down’ in educational research, to consider the disadvantaged and marginalised, presumably with the intention of improving their plight. Disproportionally focusing scholarly attention on the ways educational institutions marginalise or provide opportunities for the disenfranchised, risks inattentiveness to the ways these institutions work explicitly for the privileged, as well as ways the privileged groups actively work to create and maintain distinction (Weis,

2010).

Elite education

There is now a growing body of research which explores the world of elite education.

Adam Howard has made a significant contribution to this field, with his comprehensive exploration of how affluent students learn and construct their privileged identities in elite schooling (2008). Contemporary studies of elite education have made significant contributions to our understanding of privilege and power.

In all the countries where research on elite schools has been conducted,

such research has consistently revealed that these schools underwrite,

and sometimes help to rewrite, class, race and gender privilege and the

associated relationships of power. (Koh & Kenway, 2016, pp. 2-3)

Although a sociology of elite education is emerging there is more work to be done in order to reveal what is still hidden about social class and education (Gaztambide-

Fernández & Howard, 2010a). There is significant debate about the use of the term

‘elite’ and many ways of defining elite in different contexts. However, elite status is largely delineated by and equated with social class. In Stich and Colyar’s (2015) review of recent work in this field they proposed a relational approach to studying ‘up’. They observed ways the study of elites has not led to the goal of understanding social inequalities in new ways. Instead, research which relies on a vertical hierarchical class system, may legitimise inequality through the act of classification. Central to their argument is Bourdieu’s theory of social space, which views social class as multi-

dimensional with possible “vertical, horizontal and transverse movement (or potential social mobility)” (Stich & Colyar, 2015, p. 733).

The binary nature of the concept of studying ‘up’ versus ‘down’ may promote a stratifactionist approach to social class. However, Nader’s original concept, was inherently relational in nature. She proposed a reinvention of anthropology which would study ‘up’, ‘down’, or vertically, with the intention of developing adequate theory of the power at play in the ‘social field’. Unfortunately, in some applications of studying ‘up’, the lives, institutions, and politics of the elite are explored in isolation from the broader social field. “The project of the new sociology of elite education must be to reveal what is hidden about social class, whether to explain why things are fair as they are or to fundamentally transform them” (Gaztambide-Fernández & Howard,

2010a, p. 207). Thus, a study of elite education must consider how the educational advantages of the elite actively reinscribe privilege and perpetuate inequality.

‘Elite’ has become a common term for everyday use and is prolific within popular media to label celebrity culture, royalty, politicians, and even schools. Recently scholars looking at ‘elite’ institutions, people, cultures and politics have closely interrogated this term. The term has since come to replace concepts like ruling class or upper class that were tied to specific theoretical traditions (Prosser, 2016). This shift is representative of a need for a broader approach to class which resists binaries and highlights the complex processes of class formation. The sociology of elites engages in class analysis “by focusing on the problem of understanding systems of economic inequality” (Prosser, 2016, p. 219). Research in elite schools develops a clearer picture

of the processes and experiences which are unattainable to a significant proportion of individuals. Prosser argued the “‘economy of eliteness’ deserves to be exposed as part of a process that produces class power because social and educational advantage is purchasable at a premium” (2016, p. 218).

In his ethnographic study of an elite boarding school in the United States, Rubén

Gaztambide-Fernández, developed a model of interrelated processes that contributed to how students saw themselves as Westonians (students of the Weston School). He calls this model the five E’s of elite schooling: exclusion, engagement, excellence, entitlement, and envisioning (Gaztambide-Fernández, 2009). The processes

Gaztambide-Fernández (2009) observed at the Weston school acted to carefully select students, internalise their entitlement to their elite education, and imagine themselves and transition into equally elite spaces after school.

Elite boys’ schooling in Australia

Originally established in the late 19th century, elite boys’ schools have a long history of schooling the rich upper class and, as Cookson and Persell (1985) suggested, preparing their pupils for power. They stressed that elite schools are environments that are highly competitive, scheduled and rigorous where students work hard and come to believe that they have earned their privilege. Traditionally elite boys’ schools have been considered bastions of privilege. In an ethnography within an elite male boarding school in the

United States, Khan (2011) suggests that even within a culture which has transformed significantly from its classist origins, the elite school trains students to perpetuate class

through the elevation of a small group within a social process of schooling. Madrid’s study of elite boys schools and the production of gender and class in contemporary

Chile found that social institutions, such as elite boys’ schools, “play a major role in the production of ruling class and hegemonic masculinities by masculinising power structures” (2013, p. 26). These authors suggest that elite schools are unique not only in their density of upper-class powerful pupils, but also in perpetuating a particular culture and set of values.

This ruling class culture found within elite schools has a long tradition for their perceived potential in moulding young men into the ‘right’ ways of being masculine

(Connell, 2008). Messner (1990a; 1990b) claims that it was through competitive team sports that young men were to be educated in a climate of competitiveness where success, strength, and hard work were promoted. In the Australian setting, Crotty

(2000) suggests that sport in schools was considered a medium through which to channel boys’ inherent masculine attributes positively. As Crawford (1981) contends, the keen imitation of English practices was widespread in the established independent church secondary schools in Victoria and New South Wales towards the end of the 19th century. This trend stemmed from admiration of the system and product of the Great

Public Schools (GPS) in the mother country and the belief that what suited the English middle class boy suited ‘his colonial counterpart’ (Crawford, 1981). In the colonial context of Australia, education and educational institutions were built for settlers and continue to entrench the ideological hegemony of colonialism (Susan Goodwin &

Proctor, 2019). In this context sport and physical education was introduced as a key pillar of making the ‘whole man’.

Elite schools in Australia have diverse histories but share a strong connection to the

English Public Schools. At their inception these schools were largely denominational and were devoted “not only to the intellectual training of future leaders, but also to the training and disciplining of their bodies and their characters” (Crotty, 1999, p. 54).

Crotty suggests that a significant change occurred in the second half of the 19th century, similar to what took place in English public schools.

The construction of manliness which these schools promoted shifted

away from what David Newsome has characterised as ‘godliness and

good learning’ towards a much more muscular and physical idea, of

which the athlete was the embodiment. (Crotty, 1999, pp. 54-55)

Previous research conducted in/on the institution of elite boys’ schools has considered the construction of masculinity through schooling practices (Khan, 2011; Madrid, 2013;

Swain, 2006). There have been several notable empirical studies set in senior public schools that have helped to construct a picture of boys’ masculinities (Connell,

Ashenden, Kessler, & Dowsett, 1982; Heward, 1988, 1990; Mac an Ghaill, 1994;

Morrell, 1994). Historically, elite boys’ schools have aimed to produce a particular style of men engaging in a process Cookson and Persell (1985) referred to as ‘preparing for power’. As articulated in a study on elite school prospectus and associated media, this is a multifaceted endeavour concerned with the whole man including his values, beliefs and character (Gottschall, Wardman, Edgeworth, Hutchesson, & Saltmarsh, 2010). The study suggested these characteristics are physically represented through the way that boys’ bodies are presented, commonly as tough, powerful, and competitive. The

competitive sporting ethos of elite boys’ schools is praised for its ability to establish values of leadership and teamwork whilst training young men’s bodies in hard work, diligence, and perseverance. Further, Gottschall et al. (2010) highlighted how having a capable and successful sporting body “has become inextricably bound with being a competitive, self-enterprising, ‘successful’ masculine subject, now commodified as the idealised school subject” (p. 23).

This thesis aims to bring together boys’ experiences of elite schooling and privilege and its role on their construction and negotiation of masculinities. Research with boys in an elite school context should attempt to develop a picture of adolescent’s self- understandings and identity (including gender identity) and the role of institutional practices of elite schools in cultivating their privilege.

Why Focus on Sport, Health, and Physical Education?

This chapter has touched on the important role that sport and physical education has historically played within the elite school context. Next, it will briefly outline the history and context of physical education and health in Australian schools, and in particular elite boys’ schools, and demonstrate the need for research to consider masculinity and class privilege in this space.

There is a developing body of literature that considers the impact of sport on adolescent males and their masculine development (see, for example, Connell, 1996; Connell,

2008; Crotty, 2000; Jachyra, 2014; Messner, 1990a; Messner, 2011; Messner & Sabo,

1990). Recently, Connell has called for further analysis of sports education in schools, suggesting that there is a considerable risk that sports education will “be dominated by the dominant form of contemporary sport, [and] will become little more than the recruitment machinery for commercial competitive sport” (Connell, 2008, p. 143).

Sport and physical education in elite boys’ schools in Australia are increasingly being positioned as different areas of school life. Sport has a historically significant role in elite boys’ schools and for this reason, these inter-school competitions continue to take place on weekends, as a compulsory aspect of many schools. Sport, to this extent, is unusual in most public schools in Australia with the exception of selective sporting public schools, of which there are only a few in Sydney.

Physical education is a compulsory subject in most Western schools, worldwide.

Although subject status, content, and time allocation vary significantly across schools, states, and countries, most students will have some engagement with physical education and/or sport in school (Tinning, 2010). In Australia and New Zealand, health education and physical education are organised in one curriculum and linked in school practice, usually with the same teacher taking both aspects of the subject. PDHPE (Personal

Development, Health, and Physical Education), is a compulsory subject area for

Kindergarten to Year 10 students. PDHPE is also an optional subject at senior high school level (Years 11 and 12). Current school practices in HPE (health and physical

education)8 are reflective of historical trajectories. The physical education component of HPE follows a long tradition of “practice-based non-academic pedagogy, going back to military training and ‘Swedish drills’ as well as competitive sports” (Connell, 2008, p. 140). Historically, physical education has differed significantly across gender and class lines (Fitzpatrick, 2010). For example, with specific preparation of boy’s bodies for war, working class men’s bodies for factory work during the industrial revolution, and girl’s ‘fragile’ bodies for remedial therapy through Swedish gymnastics (Kirk,

2010; Phillips & Roper, 2006).

Physical education changed significantly from the middle of the last century, undergoing a shift away from gymnastics traditions to what Kirk (2010) referred to as

“physical-education-as-sport-techniques” (p. 7). This remains the prevailing practice of physical education in schools across Australia, the United States, New Zealand, the

United Kingdom, and parts of Asia and Europe (Fitzpatrick, 2010; Kirk, 2010). Gender remains a central concern in contemporary physical education with numerous international studies highlighting the problematic nature of the physical education context for many girls (Flintoff & Scraton, 2006; Penney, 2002). This context is more often dominated by boys and structured around activities that are considered to be masculine. A significant body of research in the sociology of sport attests to the cultural significance of sport, particularly in constructing the ideal male (Burstyn, 1999;

8 PDHPE will be used when referring to PDHPE curriculum or lessons at Kingston. HPE refers to the broader field of health and physical education, internationally, where the acronym of PDHPE is not used.

Messner, 1990a; Messner & Sabo, 1990; Wellard, 2009). Connell has made a significant contribution acknowledging the schooling institution as an integral site of gender construction and reproduction (Connell, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2008). In particular sport, health, and physical education within the schooling context is said to be a unique milieu which Connell suggests is a masculine vortex, “an area of school life where processes of masculinity formation are intensely active” (2008, p. 137).

Sport and physical education in schools has been identified as an important site for the production and reproduction of gender and the embodiment of unequal gender relations

(Connell, 2008; Light & Kirk, 2000; Theberge, 1991). Light & Kirk (2000) applied

Bourdieu’s concepts of habitus and corporeal practice to an ethnographic study of a rugby team in an elite boys’ school in Brisbane, Australia. This research identified the importance of school sport and physical education in the construction of gender by accepting that habitus and social structures are “mutually constituted through corporeal practices” (Light & Kirk, 2000, p. 164). From this standpoint, habitus is seen as the embodied social history of the individual, including the somatic product of the individual’s bodily engagement in social and cultural practice throughout his/her lifespan. This research was particularly focused on the ways in which ‘traditional’ forms of masculinity were passed down through the elite schooling customs and reproduced through engagement in rugby and wider school culture. The authors noted that elite independent schools in Australia are typically characterised by a strong connection to and desire for preservation of tradition of the past which continues to develop their history of schooling the privileged upper class (Light & Kirk, 2000).

Within this context traditional sports such as rugby hold particular value as both a practice of distinction and “as a means of inculcating a particular class specific form of masculinity” (Light & Kirk, 2000, p. 166). Mangan (1981) and Sherington (1983) attest to the historical significance of sport and physical activity as a class specific form connected to Victorian/Edwardian ideals of manliness. Although, these elite schools have developed and changed to meet the needs of contemporary Australian education,

Light & Kirk’s (2000) study suggests that these deeply entrenched traditions in sport continue to produce and reproduce hegemonic masculinity in this context.

The presence of physical education and sport within the school curriculum has long been aligned with the stereotypical characteristics of boys. Founded in powerful gender profiling, the common sense discourse that boys are inherently more active and physical than girls has a strong presence within schools (Hickey, 2008). Although the origins of this stark gender divide are continually debated, PE and sport in schools maintain a traditional profile as key educational mediums for the guiding and developing of male attributes and desires (Hickey, 2008; Kirk & Spiller, 1994). Sporting history in schools has a long past of producing and perpetuating masculine values and practices. Physical education and health has been depicted as a subject matter rooted in fostering masculine attributes through lasting connections with sporting and military discourses, that are themselves concerned with fostering the development of boys to men in both Australia and England (Hickey, 2008). As previously noted, these colonial values were established within early independent schools in Australia in order to emulate the successful schooling techniques of the ‘mother country’. These pursuits of masculine value development in schools are also inextricably tied to building and strengthening

of the physical body. Regular training and preparation of the body for sporting competition usually results in muscular development, allowing male athletes to more closely embody the masculine ideal.

Some research, mentioned previously, surrounding male schooling and academic achievement suggests that boys have suffered as a result of the perceived feminisation of schooling, resulting in reported underachievement in schools (Browne & Fletcher,

1995; Hawkes, 2001). Such scholars have suggested that increasing time and focus placed on PE and sport in schools is a likely solution to this ‘boy crisis’, a suggestion criticised by others such as Hickey (2008). The production and reproduction of a specific and dominant masculinity through the proliferation of sport and physical education as the ‘boys’ domain’ in schools is perhaps an issue in itself. In Australia, the proposed health and physical education curriculum (HPE) considers sporting competition the domain of community based sport (however this is not the case in elite boy’s schools), but the health and physical education of students as a primary responsibility of the school (Australian Curriculum Assessment and Reporting

Authority, 2014).

Australia and New Zealand are the only countries globally where ‘health education’ is combined with physical education within one subject area. Health education was historically seen as a ‘life skills’ subject, only gaining recognition as a ‘serious’ academic subject more recently. However, questions of what actually constitutes health education and how to teach it remain unanswered. Health education is a highly contested space with concerns around body censorship, morality and risk discourses

and often narrow understandings of the ‘right’ ways of achieving health (Fitzpatrick,

2010). Martino and Pallota-Chiarolli (2003) refer to these tensions when teaching health education to boys. Research continues to highlight the impact of hegemonic masculinities on boys’ physical, mental, emotional and sexual health. The concept of

‘toxic masculinity’ is now mainstream in society and commonly cites issues of drug use, drinking, motor vehicle accidents, suicide and domestic violence as products of

‘toxic masculinity’. Health education warns boys of their risk-taking tendencies, urging them to choose to abstain from these practices to achieve health.

This space has significant potential for critical pedagogical approaches that enable young people to discuss critical topics and challenge dominant notions of power, gender, health and sexuality (Fitzpatrick, 2013). However, research and programs commonly ignore the possibilities of a critical gender education. The most prolific work in this area originated during the time of the ‘boy-turn’ in Australian education and produced tools and programs for teachers to encourage diverse masculinities and boys’ emotional development (Hartman, 2014). The Family Action Centre at the University of Newcastle advocated for a public health approach to the wellbeing of men and boys in families and communities and developed resources to enable teachers to take this focus.

Many schools now situate education around gender, sexuality and domestic violence within the HPE curriculum, alongside physical education experiences focusing on sport and competition. However, there is little guidance particularly in how to deal with issues of gender education from a critical feminist perspective. Claussen’s (2019)

research in Canadian schools suggested discussions of gender and gender norms as part of sexual health education are still uncommon. Connell (2008) argued that “boys need occasions for learning about, debating and reflecting on gender relations in both their own lives and the wider society” (p. 142). She goes on to say these occasions must extend far beyond ‘personal development’ lessons due to the pervasiveness of gender relations. However, this thesis first considers these occasions within personal development, health and physical education lessons. If this is considered (by schools and educators) as a right starting point for these discussions, it is worth taking a closer look at what gender education is taking place. Further, how does this gender education couched in HPE relate to the broader elite school practices in a school and how do boys experience and negotiate their gender in light of this? The remainder of this thesis explores the role of health and physical education and broader elite school practices in developing boys’ understandings of their own gender and identity within society.

Conclusion

This chapter has explored contemporary theories of gender and masculinity, paying particular attention to theoretical contributions by Raewyn Connell as they underpin the ways in which masculinities are understood throughout this thesis. I argued that

Connell’s concepts of relational gender, multiple masculinities, and hegemonic masculinity provide a helpful analytical lens for considering the ways in which masculinities are constructed and lived out in schools. In particular, these concepts have enabled a deeper understanding of how gendered power is unequally distributed, learned, and acted out in everyday life.

The second section of this chapter examined research which illuminates the role of schooling in constructing masculinities. Schools are the social arena in which much of gender development occurs; they are not neutral in the production of gender but play an active role in constructing, regulating, and communicating cultural messages. I considered the importance of studying ‘elite’ boys’ schools, arguing that developing an understanding of how social class and gender intersect in schooling will provide significant insight into our understanding of privilege and power.

Finally, this chapter has argued that looking within the ‘masculinity vortex’ (2008) of health and physical education in school will elucidate ways in which gender is ‘taught’ and constructed in and through HPE in schools. I pointed to the absence of research which brings together gender, masculinities, elite schooling, and HPE in Australian schools, as I aim to do in this thesis. In the next chapter I turn my attention to how I approached the research and the generation of data that allowed me to consider boys’ experiences of becoming men in an elite boys’ school.

Chapter Three- Method and Methodology

The aim of this project was to develop a rich understanding of boys’ experiences of

‘becoming men’ in an elite boys’ school. In approaching the design of the research, I sought a methodological approach that would privilege participants’ lived experiences; with a focus on hearing from and not about ‘the boys’. This chapter explores the epistemological and methodological approaches that guided the inception and design of the study to meet this goal. Here I distinguish between the research more broadly

(including the review of the literature, research design, fieldwork, analysis, and the writing up), which I call ‘the research project’, and the empirical research- a study of boys in school, which I refer to as ‘the study’. The chapter details my decision making and my experiences of developing and implementing research design and methods, exploring how and why a critical ethnographic approach was employed, and how this approach aligns with the theoretical framing and addresses the spaces for future research outlined in the previous chapter. The next chapter builds on this methodological discussion by exploring the negotiation and performance of researcher identities while conducting fieldwork for this study. In a sense both this chapter and the next outline the research approach and application of methodology; while the first focuses on the research approach, methodology, and methods, the second provides a reflexive account of the researcher’s role in the study.

Approach to Research

Mac an Ghaill suggests that “all educational ethnographies have a hidden history”

(1991, p. 102) or a story of what really happens behind the scenes. The hidden history of research does not start with the inception of the ‘official’ research project, instead the history of this research can be traced back to key moments where ideas were formed and where epistemological and ontological approaches were developed. As discussed in my introduction my research was originally conceived through observation conducted in my personal life; during my undergraduate studies when I worked as a nanny to a family with elite schoolboys. Through this experience I cultivated an interest in boys’ body image and the building of bodies.

This was the topic of my first foray into research as an Honours student and initially my proposed PhD focus. However, after a year of reading and engaging deeply in literature and statistics about psychology, nutrition, body image, and body satisfaction, my direction shifted, I became more interested in the underlying beliefs about masculinity and identity- about what it means to be a man, than I was about the processes of body building. As a nanny I had insight into the home life of these boys, I had opportunities to observe the messages that parents and other family members gave about what it means to be a man. What I didn’t get was the opportunity to see the ways in which the school practices, environment, and curriculum influenced these ideas. As a trained PDHPE teacher I was interested in how school life, and particularly sport and

HPE taught boys to be men.

It is possible to position a discussion of the methods used in this study as merely a set of practical decisions relating to the research process, however this would ignore the complexity of the underlying beliefs about knowledge that underpin research methodology. From its earliest inception as a research project, this study has been characterised by an approach to research which seeks to understand and describe rather than “map and conquer” (Stake, 1995, p. 43). Therefore, the goal of this study was not to uncover a right or wrong way of learning masculinity in a school or definitively answer specific research questions. Instead it has been informed by an interpretivist and constructivist paradigm which purports that “we construct knowledge through our lived experiences” (Lincoln, Lynham, & Guba, 2011, p. 103). As such, it acknowledges that knowledge is constructed through the lived experiences of both the researcher and the participants of the research. Seeing research through this paradigm requires the researcher to also turn the lens upon themselves, to inquire, critique and consider the

‘hidden history’ of the research; the way that research is born from personal experience and how method and methodology are applied and understood through this lens.

The adoption of a qualitative approach to research in the study is in keeping with my own ontological and epistemological worldview, as well as the aims of the research project. Much of the growing body of research on men and masculinities employs qualitative methods. Schrock and Schwalbe (2009, p. 279) suggest that “qualitative methods provide the best insight into how men present themselves as gendered beings”.

As the previous chapter outlined, this research views gender as socially organised and embedded in social interactions and institutions. Similarly, qualitative research views knowledge and reality as constructed. As Merriam and Tisdell propose, “qualitative

research assumes that reality is constructed, multidimensional, and ever-changing”

(2009, p. 54). Although there are a multitude of definitions for qualitative research, a qualitative approach begins with the assumptions and use of the interpretive theoretical framework:

Researchers study things in their natural setting, attempting to make

sense of, or interpret, phenomena in terms of the meanings people bring

to them. (Denzin & Lincoln, 2011, p. 3)

A qualitative approach to research was a logical fit for a study that aimed to explore the depth of boys’ experiences in a school, the multiple dimensions and sites of experiences within the school, and the changing and developing nature of their understanding and grappling with what it means to be a man.

A Study of Boys in School

This study employed the qualitative method and methodology of ethnographic research.

An ethnographic approach involves the identification and understanding of cultural patterns in a specific site. Crotty (1998) argued an ethnographic approach aims to acknowledge and work positively with the researcher’s subjectivity, their knowledge of the field, and to develop an empathetic rapport with participants. In order to do this

Willis (1977) argued that a researcher must attend to what he termed the ‘logic of living’ of a particular place. That is, the researcher must seek to understand the culture and social spaces of the research site. This is the essence of ethnographic research.

However, as Willis (1977) also pointed out, in order to gain these sophisticated understandings of a place, we must contextualise the research within the wider social hierarchies or structures. Specifically attending to the social hierarchies and power relations is what makes an ethnography ‘critical’.

Critical ethnographic studies of schooling, particularly health and physical education, are less common compared with conventional ethnographic accounts (Fitzpatrick,

2013). Traditionally, ethnography provided the platform for anthropological researchers to delve into research through time in the field. Since the early days of its application, ethnography has significantly contributed to our understanding of social relations and perspectives in schools; including impactful research, which illuminated how the junctures of class, gender, ethnicity and sexuality have shaped student educational achievement and experience (Mac an Ghaill, 1988). The approach finds particular strength in its ability to give voice to lived experience, contextualise recorded experience, and go beyond surface appearance to present detailed analysis of social relationships and practice (Denzin, 1994). In contemporary research, ethnography is understood and realised in a variety of ways which represent diverse theoretical foundations.

Critical ethnography is defined by Thomas (1993) as “conventional ethnography with a political purpose” (p. 4). It is concerned about social inequalities and work is directed toward positive social change (Carspecken, 1996). As Thomas argued, critical science, and specifically critical ethnography, aims to uncover, challenge, and emancipate:

Critical science is guided by the cognitive interest of emancipating us

from unnecessary forms of social domination by identifying and

challenging them. By uncovering what is normally concealed, critical

ethnography contributes to the emancipatory project that conventional

science fails. (Thomas, 1993, p. 70)

Thus, it is expected that critical research on men and masculinities should make a contribution to the emancipatory project. Pease (2013) suggests this contribution should be the development of an understanding of “how men gain, maintain and use power to subordinate women as well as how they might transform that power” (p. 40). This commitment to producing change during and resulting from research is key to the critical orientation of this study9.

Of primary concern to the researcher is the practice of reflexivity, a crucial process in contemporary ethnography where the researcher is not merely positioned as an observer but as an active participant with an intention to transform or make change in the site.

Holmes and Smyth (2011) clearly articulate the key purpose of critical ethnography:

Critical ethnography aims to equip participants with a heightened

awareness of the ways in which their daily lives are constructed, create

9 Further discussion of the methods associated with this critical methodology can be found in the upcoming methods section of the thesis.

a sensitivity to the role played by power differentials, and provide

intellectual and practical resources for social and personal

transformation. (Holmes & Smyth, 2011, p. 146)

Reflexivity is a key feature of the study and features through both a commitment to reflexivity through self-reflection and the explicit positioning and recognition of the researcher within the field. Although, self-reflection will be an important tool to identify the researcher’s positioning, reflexivity extends further recognising that the social researcher and the research act itself are both inextricable parts of the social world under investigation (Jordan & Yeomans, 1995). Jordan and Yeomans (1995) propose that reflexivity is integral in order to assert that research is not separate from the everyday world.

Reflexivity represents ethnography’s attempt to resolve the dualisms of

contemporary social theory… and operates on the basis of a dialectic,

between the researcher, the research process, and it’s product (Jordan &

Yeomans, 1995, p. 394).

Reflexive practice, referred to by Marcus (1998) as “confessional” reflexivity refers to reflexive practice which draws on the researcher’s discussion of self. As Carspecken

(1996) and Sparks (2002) suggest, “retaining the idea of a self/author in dialogue with cultural others positions the researcher in important ways” (Foley, 2002, p. 475). This is firstly achieved by positioning the researcher as a learner, a practice also supported by Hemmings (2009). Second, it obligates the researcher to embrace his/her personal

gratefulness and responsibility to others through acknowledging their own subjective histories. Again, Hemmings (2009) suggests that this is ethically best practice and enhances the meaningfulness and depth of ethnographic research. Part of my attempt to undertake this kind of reflexivity is found in the next chapter where I further explore the research process and experience via a reflexive account of key moments of identity negotiation during the study.

Doing and writing research: The thesis

This section will describe the application of critical ethnographic methodology and method to the study at Kingston College10. However, before proceeding I make two observations; one is about the imposition of order on the research process and the second is about the complexities of anonymity in research. Research, like other knowledge, is constructed, ever-changing, and produced within and by certain social conditions. As this is the world-view from which this research emanates, then it is important to be clear about how this knowledge has been constructed through a multitude of processes and practices. The particular piece of research has been conducted and written as a thesis. It acts as a measure of assessment used by the academy to determine my competence as a researcher. A thesis is bound by institutional

10 Kingston College is the name I have chosen for the school in this research, in line with ethics requirements, it is a pseudonym to preserve the anonymity of the school. The fieldwork for this study was conducted in 2016.

requirements and the research conducted to produce a thesis must comply with the institution’s understandings of what counts as research. I have attempted to be careful to present my research as a realistic account of the experience of doing research in a school. In doing so, I avoid providing a tidy account of how the study unfolded, and instead highlight in this chapter and the next, how I grappled with issues preparing for, conducting, and presenting the research.

A note about anonymity

In order to maintain anonymity of the school, limited detail can be provided about the geographical location and demographics of the particular environment. As Kelly (2009) argues, in order to protect the anonymity of schools is it essential “to give only enough circumstantial specifics as are required to decipher the meaning (but not the identity) of the site and its characters” (p. 440). As a requirement of receiving ethical approval for this research, the University of Sydney Human Research Ethics Committee necessitates (as is standard practice) anonymity of the participating institution and the individual participants. Although there are many criticisms of the practice of ‘default anonymity’(Grace, 2002; Nespor, 2000; Peshkin, 2001; Scheper-Hughes, 2000;

Walford, 2005; Wolfe, 2003) the accepted practice in research is that participants and institutions remain anonymous in order to reduce the risk of harm to participants as a result of engaging in the research. Although ensuring anonymity adheres to the core ethical practices of avoidance of harm and exploitation, it is unique in that it involves the modification of empirical data, so that the research places and participants cannot be identified (Vainio, 2012). This is an issue I have felt uneasy about as a researcher.

Smartt Guillon (2016) explains there is a delicate balance between ensuring we write the most authentic representation possible and also protect our participants’ right to privacy.

In this study I have adopted several strategies to ensure the participants and institution remain anonymous. First, I have used pseudonyms for the school, surrounding suburbs that are mentioned, and the participants. Although it is tempting to describe the school in detail, I have been careful to provide a sense of the place without revealing distinguishing characteristics of the school. In his ethnography of an elite school,

Peshkin (2001) famously gave some ‘basic facts’ about the geographical location, demographics, and financial aid received by the school. His use of a pseudonym failed in its mission to protect the anonymity of the school, because the details given made it easy to identify the only school that met these characteristics. In this research project I have included historical information about the group of schools with which Kingston is associated, however, I have refrained from including demographic and geographical information to protect the school from identification. When describing the school grounds, ovals, and other details such as school sign-in processes I have combined a range of experiences in similar schools to develop a close portrayal of the school features without these being specific to the research site. In the process of making these decisions I continually asked myself whether the changes I made altered the outcomes of the research. By developing a ‘composite setting’ that is, combining features of several similar elite boys’ schools, I believe I was able to provide a robust representation of the elite school context, which is significant to the research, without risking identification of the school.

In a similar way, it was essential to protect the anonymity of individual participants, whilst still ensuring I produced a deep and authentic ethnographic account. In order to ensure anonymity of participants, each student was given the opportunity to select their own pseudonym. The use of pseudonyms is common practice in ethnographic research, but again the issue is not devoid of debate. For example, Fitzpatrick (2010) refers to the tensions faced when research participants wished to be referred to by their own names in the research. As a critical ethnographer, one must balance the key ethical responsibility of providing a space for young people’s voices and experiences to be heard, and equally the responsibility to protect these young people from becoming vulnerable to their teachers, authorities, parents, or the public more generally as a result of engaging in the research (Fitzpatrick, 2010).

A particular concern of mine was to allow participants the right for their stories and the things they said to be a representation of their beliefs at the time of research. A year later when I revisited Kingston and met with the participants, several commented (while reviewing their transcripts11) that their beliefs and ideas had matured since then. Of course, this would commonly be the case, and indeed in this research one of the aims was for the research to provide participants with the opportunity for self- problematisation; a process which would ideally lead to reflection and critique of previously unquestioned values and beliefs. For this reason, as well as the other

11 Detail about the member checking process mentioned here can be found in the methods section of the thesis.

previously mentioned, maintaining participants’ anonymity was paramount. In essence it acknowledged the possibility that participants had become ‘someone else’.

When I returned to the school in 2017, I asked students to write their own participant introductions. I did this so that participants had ownership over their representation in the written product of this thesis. Their introductions are included in a later section of this chapter. However, this process again presented some complications to maintaining participant anonymity. Some of the boys wrote very specific introductions where they gave details about their height, hair and eye colour, number and sex of siblings, and cultural backgrounds. Although it was significant that they chose this way of representing themselves, I was also concerned that such specific descriptions would make the participants recognisable to other individuals who were part of the school community.

Decisions about what to include or redact are particularly difficult in ethnographic research with young people, possibly because we inherently adopt a protectionist view of the ways in which younger ‘subjects’ are represented in research processes: as both in need of protecting and ‘in need of voice’. On one hand, my desire was to allow the participants to speak for themselves, without moderation of a researcher’s gaze.

However, on the other hand, my primary concern was to maintain participant’s anonymity. Smartt Guillon (2016) explains this often requires modification of descriptive information about participants, insofar as it does not change the findings of the research. Again, this was a complicated process as I found taking the role of a researcher as a ‘knower’ of what is and isn’t important information about a participant-

particularly when they have already decided that this very information is important to a description of themselves- to be uncomfortable. I decided not to change the kinds of information a student had decided to include, but instead to represent this information from a ‘birds-eye’ perspective, attempting to reduce some of the detail in the descriptions so that participants would be less recognisable.

The setting

The study was set at a school, which, in keeping with the principles of anonymity that have just been described, is referred to as Kingston College. Agee (2002) suggests that in settings, particular situations, interactions, and behaviours become conceived as normal by virtue of history, values, and beliefs. Settings are understood as ‘more than physical locations (although given settings have physical features) and are distinguished by the symbolic meanings associated with them’ (Agee, 2002, p. 570).

Thus, understanding the research setting of Kingston College is an important starting point for engaging with this research.

Kingston College is a member school of the GPS [Great Public Schools]. The GPS is a small group of boys’ schools in New South Wales that share common interests, ethics, and educational philosophy, and compete against each other in sporting events. It is a single-sex (boys) school in Sydney, Australia and secondary school fees are approximately $30,000 AUD per annum. As discussed in Chapter Two, GPS schools have diverse histories but share a strong connection to the English public schools. At their inception these schools were largely denominational and were devoted “not only

to the intellectual training of future leaders, but also to the training and disciplining of their bodies and their characters” (Crotty, 1999, p. 54).

In Gaztambide-Fernández’s ethnographic study of an elite boarding school in the

United States, he developed a model of interrelated processes that contributed to how students saw themselves as Westonians (students of the Weston School). He calls this model the five E’s of elite schooling: exclusion, engagement, excellence, entitlement, and envisioning (Gaztambide-Fernández, 2009, p. 6). This model serves as a helpful way of providing context for the setting at Kingston College, although confirmation of the occurrence of some of these processes will be reserved for the analysis of the research.

As at the Weston School, entry into Kingston College involves early registration of boys (before the child’s first birthday for Kindergarten entry and fifth birthday for high school entry) and interviews. Priority is given to boys whose fathers or grandfathers are

‘Old Kingstonians’. The implicit purpose of this process is to “exclude [emphasis added] and provide a rationale for such exclusions” (Gaztambide-Fernández, 2009, p.

6). Once admitted and enrolled into the school, students engage in academic, athletic and artistic pursuits of the highest quality. Teachers are carefully selected, facilities are meticulously maintained, and there are exceptional opportunities for co-curricular activities. Gaztambide-Fernández found that as students developed their talents and demonstrated their personal excellence, they confirmed their entitlement to a Weston education. As they neared the end of their education, students envisioned themselves as part of other equally elite spaces. They prepared themselves for tertiary education at

elite institutions, challenging high paying careers, and leadership roles. Although

Gaztambide-Fernández’s research was in a boarding school in the United States, he suggests these processes of exclusion, engagement, excellent, entitlement, and envisioning are characteristics of the elite school context.

This elite school setting brings with it specific methodological challenges, which

Maxwell and Aggleton (2015) suggest are given relatively little focus in the methodological literature. In particular, they argue these privileged spaces make some people feel a sense of belonging, and others as if they do not (and should not) fit (see also Gaztambide-Fernández, Cairns, & Desai, 2013). This can impact on research access- both formally and subjectively. My own schooling experience was in non-elite, co-educational schools. However, my tertiary education in an elite institution afforded me a taste of the privilege of elite education and as discussed later, an advantage when negotiating access12. Aspects of my personal biography, namely my elite tertiary education shaped the nature of the access provided and relational experience with the gatekeepers of the school.

In addition to understanding Kingston College through Gaztambide-Fernández’s model, researchers can use the index of community socio-educational advantage

(ICSEA) as a tool to understand the relative socio-educational advantage or disadvantage of a particular school. The official Australian national government

12 A detailed discussion of negotiating access to the research site can be found in Chapter Four.

website My School uses ICSEA values to enable comparisons of standardised testing results and other performance measures among schools across Australia. A school’s

ICSEA value takes into account key factors in students’ family backgrounds (parents’ occupations, school and non-school education), as well as the geographical location of the school and proportion of Indigenous students. An ICSEA value represents the overall level of a school’s educational advantage. On the My School website, the ‘school profile’ page shows a table presented alongside the school ICSEA value. A schools

ICSEA score is represented against a mean score of 1000 and a standard deviation of

100. This table shows the distribution of students in a school across four socio- educational advantage (SEA) quarters, with the ‘bottom quarter’ representing a scale of relative disadvantage and the ‘top quarter’ relative advantage. According to My School,

50% of Kingston College total enrolments came from the top quarter, and over 80% were in the top half, with only 3% coming from the bottom quarter. It has an ICSEA score above 1100 (approximately one standard deviation above the mean).

This suggests that students of Kingston College possess substantially greater than average socio-educational advantage. This is characteristic of all schools in the GPS, however there are also other independent schools and selective public schools that possess this level of socio-educational advantage. Together with the characteristics of the school setting discussed above, it can be seen that Kingston College is a school of relative socioeconomic and socio-educational advantage as well as possessing the qualities that make a school ‘elite’. As will be evident throughout this thesis, a contextual understanding of the research setting is integral to understanding the experiences and processes of ‘becoming men’ at Kingston College.

Methods

As with action research and other types of research that are self-consciously political, critical ethnography is not a single method, but instead relies on a diverse range of data sources. The study drew from a multiplicity of data sources including observations, research conversations, and interviews in order to best understand the diverse landscape of gendered and gendering practices in the site.

To explore masculinity as a process, I employed several methods- each with different levels of analysis. At the individual level I explored participants’ ideas about and experiences of masculinity and ‘becoming men’ at school. My goal was to understand individual personal meanings and experiences of masculinity and I gained insight into this during PDHPE classes and in research conversations (which I discuss in the following section). However, looking at masculinity in adolescence without also paying attention to the relational processes of gender and the broader social structures and influences (such as the school) results in overly individualised and psychologised analyses (Pascoe, 2006). For this reason, I examined relational and institutional gender processes, considering how gender is constructed in groups. In particular, observing and interacting with participants around the school and in PDHPE classes provided this understanding.

During 2016 I spent half of the school year in two different Year 10 PDHPE classes.

Each fortnight students in these classes would attend two theory lessons (PDH) and two practical lessons (PE). Year 10 is the final year where PDHPE is a compulsory subject

area in Australian secondary schools. Most students in these classes were aged 15-16 years. A different teacher taught each of these classes; Mr West and Mr Clarke. On average I spent 4 days a week at Kingston between February and July 2016. I observed and participated in these two Year 10 (PDHPE) classes whenever they were scheduled in the timetable. I attended assemblies, year group meetings, mentor groups, and sporting events. During my time at Kingston I also observed other PDHPE teachers’ classes and interacted with several of these teachers often, as the school had allocated me a desk in the PDHPE staff room. In PDHPE students were learning about masculinity and sexuality during the two school terms I was at Kingston. Their engagement with classroom learning activities and discussions in class gave insight into their personal and collective understandings of gender and sexuality. I will explain each of these levels of analysis in more detail including class time and field notes, research conversations, and interviews.

Class time and field notes

As mentioned above, during fieldwork at Kingston I attended PDHPE classes with students. When I first negotiated my timetable with the Head Teacher, I was clear with him that I was interested in participating in, as opposed to observing, the lessons. I explained to both teachers before entering their classrooms, that I would sit with the students and I preferred not to stand in front of the class to explain who I was and why

I was there. Instead, they introduced me to the class before I started at the school and quickly acknowledged my presence in the first lesson with each class. As I explore in the next chapter, I was very conscious of my physical positioning in the class and how

this constructed my researcher persona. At the start of the lesson, I would line up with the boys outside of the classroom and wait for the teacher to arrive. When we entered the class, I sat with the boys in groups and I would stay sitting with the students for the duration of the lesson. I completed individual, group, and whole class activities as if I was a student in the lesson. I considered time in classes to be an important basis for developing relationships with participants and building rapport. In particular, practical

PE lessons were a helpful way of doing this. In these lessons I played games and sports alongside participants and we interacted with each other as team members.

After a few months of fieldwork at Kingston I felt comfortable in classes with students and we interacted throughout the school day. However, this was a slow-moving process and early on I felt awkward and unsure of how to interact with students. An excerpt from my field notes demonstrates the initial uncertainty I (and the participants) felt in the classroom:

One of the boys at the front two tables came by the staff room today and

pointed at me through the glass windows. He asked if I was the girl

coming to do research. Some of the boys seemed excited to have an extra

person/woman in the room. Lots just ignored me/pretended I wasn’t

there… I don’t think they know what to say to me or how to treat me.

(Fieldnotes, February 2016)

Initially, I found it difficult to decide how to involve myself in class. I wanted to complete activities and work just like the boys did, but this required them to let me into

their group work and to be comfortable talking with me. In the following chapter, I reflect on a significant moment in a PE lesson which resulted in me feeling genuinely included by the boys. I reflected on the difficulties of negotiating my participation in class early on in the fieldwork process.

It is difficult to decide how much to be involved in class. Do I sit with

the students or talk to the teacher? Do I contribute in activities or just

sit back? I think the boys will become more comfortable with me as they

become more familiar with my presence. I can see that this will take

time. (Fieldnotes, February 2016)

As a first-time ethnographer I was prepared to take extensive fieldnotes during my time at Kingston. A commonality in all ethnography is that fieldnotes are made by the researcher throughout and these form the basis on which ethnographies are constructed

(Walford, 2009). As I considered my positioning in the classroom and how I wanted to be perceived by the students in class I thought extensively about how I would go about doing this. I avoided conducting ‘observations’ as is common practice in ethnographic research, as Hammersley describes below, in some contexts this would prevent ‘natural’ participation in the classes.

In many settings, participants do not carry around notebooks (paper or

electronic) and are not visibly engaged in a continual process of jotting

down notes. In many circumstances, such activity would prove very

disruptive either preventing ‘natural’ participation or generating

distraction and distrust. (Atkinson & Hammersley, 2007, p. 142)

Class time with the participants was a key opportunity to build relationships and to better understand their personal and collective beliefs about gender and sexuality. I avoided positioning myself as an ‘observer’, but my presence in the classroom no doubt changed things. I didn’t want teachers or participants to feel as if they were under surveillance, so I tried to interact with care, chatting with students, working in groups and being careful not to undermine the teacher. Feedback from the teachers at the end of my research suggested they enjoyed my presence in their classes and found it provided helpful opportunities to reflect on their teaching. In their classroom ethnographies in New Zealand, both Jones (1991) and Fitzpatrick (2010) note the difficulty of truly capturing the realities and complexities of the classroom. Jones

(1991) explained:

Before I went into the classroom I knew what is ‘going on’ there could

not be captured by the researcher simply watching and taking notes from

a corner of the room… I could not simply capture ‘the reality’ of the

classroom… all that happened had multiple meanings depending on who

was looking. (Jones, 1991, p. 23)

I chose to take very brief notes while in class; instead of writing I spent time interacting with students and participating in activities. I would write key words and keep worksheets or pictures of activities we had completed. In practical PDHPE lessons it

was impossible for me to record any of the experiences I had during the lesson, so I relied on taking notes after classes finished. After each class, I wrote more extensive notes about what I saw and heard in class. Of course, I was never able to capture all of what was going on while I was in class, but I tried to record conversations, interactions, and experiences that related to my interest in masculinity, sexuality, and identity. I also compiled fieldnotes about experiences outside of the classroom including conversations with teachers, interactions with students, and school events such as sporting activities and assemblies. Although I don’t cite or quote many of my fieldnotes in the following chapters, they contributed to my understanding of the participants, the school, and how a curriculum of masculinity was enacted in PDHPE lessons.

Research conversations

Towards the end of my fieldwork at Kingston College, I invited boys in the two PDHPE classes I had been a part of to attend research conversations. The aim of my research was to hear from the boys. I wanted to hear the boys’ perspectives on masculinity, schooling, their identity and what they learned. For several months I had been getting to know the boys during class time and around the school, but I was interested in discussing the things I had seen or experienced in more detail with them. Participants were casually invited to come along to ‘research conversations’ via the online class page. They were asked to choose their groups (ranging from 2-5 people) and organise a class time to have their conversation. I didn’t want to make this announcement in class as I wanted the invitation to be casual and not feel like a formal researcher- participant or teacher-student type conversation. Instead, boys asked me some questions

about the research conversations when we were talking in class and several groups were quick to organise their conversation times.

The purpose of these conversations was to provide an opportunity to discuss the key themes or preliminary ‘findings’ that emerged from the class time and interactions in and around the school during the first few months of fieldwork. This iterative dimension of the research design positioned the students almost as co-researchers, providing an opportunity to comment on the data collected and the initial findings (S. Goodwin &

Phillips, 2011). While interviews and focus groups are commonplace in critical ethnographic studies, these research conversations attempted to move away from the formal interrogative style of structured interviews. Clandinin and Connelly (2000) recognise that the interview format can have an inevitable degree of formality, due partially to the hierarchy between the interviewer and interviewee. Some qualitative researchers argue that focus groups are more appropriate as they remove some of the pressure to respond and invoke a more casual atmosphere. However, Fitzpatrick suggests that these methods of “ ‘collecting’ information ignore[s] the place of relationships and falsely assumes ethnographic data is ‘discovered’ by researchers rather than created” (2013, p. 58). Instead, she set up regular conversations with small groups of participants. In each session a broad topic would be posed, and students would discuss the topic with very limited intervention from the researcher.

Initially, I planned to take a similar approach in my research conversations at Kingston.

I provided the research ethics committee with a list of proposed topics or themes that I anticipated discussing with participants during the conversations. However, during the

process of gaining research ethics approval, I was asked by the ethics committee to develop a list of specific questions that would be asked in the research conversations.

As a result, research conversations followed a general pattern and all groups were asked a series of four different questions at some point during the conversation. The questions were roughly as follows:

Do you think the PDHPE unit about masculinity and sexuality changed you or changed your ideas about masculinity?

What do you think of the idea of the ‘Kingston Man’?

Do you think you would be different if you went to a different school?

Then, I showed the boys an excerpt from a recently published article in a student magazine where a young man reflected on gender equality initiatives in elite boys’ schools (discussed further in Chapter Seven).

I then asked- what do you think of this article?

In each research conversation, discussion varied significantly. I let the conversation flow naturally and posed the questions at different times in each conversation. I ensured that my approach, both physically and verbally, was quite casual so the boys didn’t feel under pressure to respond in certain ways but felt free to share their ideas and opinions.

I discuss my approach to these research conversations in more detail in the next chapter.

Fine and Weis (2003) acknowledge that conversations can hold potential for opening spaces otherwise silenced within schools. As such, this method aligns well with my research aims of hearing from the boys about their experiences of becoming men in school. There are, of course, limitations to conducting research with groups. Focus groups are often considered as a better alternative to interviews as the power imbalance between the researcher and participant is highlighted less within a group. However, focus groups can also be subject to many of the hierarchies inherent in interviews

(Clandinin & Connelly, 2000; Fitzpatrick, 2010). Although it is difficult to avoid the possible negative aspects of collective interaction (for example, silencing of some individuals), focus groups also allow for observation of the interaction between participants and of the performance of gendered identities (Gerdin, 2014). In their study of high school aged boys in the United States and Australia, Kehler and Martino (2007) found that boys demonstrated both a willingness and capacity to self-problematise and critique the norms governing hegemonic masculinity in schools. They called for research which takes a closer look at the social practices of high-school aged boys to offer a more nuanced account of the effect of masculinities from the boys’ own standpoint. The focus of research conversations in particular was to give participants the opportunity to critique and self-problematise experiences, conversations, values and beliefs relating to their identity, school experience, masculinity, and sexuality.

Research conversations were audio recorded with the consent of each of the participants and transcribed verbatim by a professional. When I returned to Kingston the following year, boys involved in the research conversations had the opportunity to read through their transcripts and view the initial thematic coding I had completed, this was a form

of ‘member checking’. Member checking is a deliberate practice of checking interpretations of data with the research participants at various points throughout the course of research (St. Pierre, 1999). Despite some critiques, member checking is regarded by many contemporary ethnographers as the most valid and ethical way to represent participants’ self-images and identities (Hemmings, 2009). Participants were given the opportunity to check transcripts and annotations made to recorded conversations and were asked to make additions or corrections if they felt they had been misunderstood, wanted to clarify, or add to what they had said.

Interviews

Although the teachers’ and Principal’s perspectives were not the focus of this study, I felt their perceptions of the boys’ experiences of becoming men at school would be valuable. I conducted these interviews towards the end of my fieldwork at Kingston. I invited all PDHPE teachers and the Principal to take part in the interviews and seven

PDHPE teachers and the Principal chose to participate. Interviews ranged from 25-60 minutes in length and followed a similar set of questions to those asked of the student participants. The interviews were semi-structured around four key questions (as with the student’s research conversations):

The students in year 10 studied a unit in PDHPE on masculinity and

gender. I asked them whether they thought this unit had changed them

or changed their ideas about masculinity. What do you think they would

say to this? What is your perspective on the importance of teaching this

in PDHPE? 76

I asked the students what they thought of the ‘Kingston Man’ concept.

What do you think they would say to this?

I asked the students whether they thought they would be different if they

went to a different school. How do you think they would have

responded?

I asked the students to comment on this excerpt. What do you think they

would say?

The interviews were audio recorded and transcribed verbatim by a professional. A semi- structured interview approach typically follows a sequence of conversations themes or questions, but there is an “openness to changes in sequence and forms of questions in order to follow up the answers given and the stories told” (Kvale, 1996, p. 124). In the interviews I attempted to adopt a relaxed and friendly style, but my demeanour was different with the staff than with the students. With the staff, I approached interviews as more of a peer-to-peer relationship. I explained to the staff that I was interested in their expert opinions as they had been a part of the school culture for much longer than

I had. At the end of the interviews I gave staff an opportunity to ask me about my research and what I was hoping to achieve. They were interested in my opinion of the school and any insight I could provide that would improve the way they approached discussions of masculinities in the school.

Data analysis

Data consisted of field notes, audio recordings, and transcripts from research conversations and individual interviews. All field notes and transcripts were written up and prepared for detailed analysis. Analysis was conducted using the qualitative data organisation program, NVivo. In order to analyse the data I used a qualitative method known as ‘thematic analysis’ (Braun & Clarke, 2006); a method that is compatible with critical ethnographic method and methodology. Thematic analysis involves the identification, analysis, and presentation of themes within data. However, suggesting that themes emerged or were discovered in the data renders the researcher passive in their analysis role (Braun & Clarke, 2006). Instead, I played an active role in the construction of research themes, employing my knowledge of the research in the field, the school site, and experiences with the students and teachers to inform my reading of the data. A theme can be defined as something that “captures something important about the data in relation to the research question, and represents some level of patterned response or meaning within the data set” (Braun & Clarke, 2006, p. 82).

The flexibility of thematic analysis means there are a variety of ways in which themes can be determined, there is no fixed frequency or proportion of the data that is required to display a particular theme (Gerdin, 2014). Braun and Clarke (2006) describe two broad approaches to thematic data analysis; ‘inductive’ or ‘deductive’ analysis. An inductive approach searches for themes within the data, ostensibly not allowing the researcher’s theoretical interest to drive the process. Whereas, a deductive approach is driven more clearly by the researcher’s theoretical interest and knowledge of the field

in which they are conducting research. In “reality”, as Braun and Clarke (2006) argue, it is not possible to analyse data in an “epistemological vacuum”, thus a truly inductive approach may not be possible. Similarly, Ramazanoglu and Holland (2002) argue that interpretive approaches are inevitably shaped by the researcher’s politics.

I used a largely deductive approach to data analysis. After listening to each recording and reading (and correcting) transcripts, I started to code according to broad themes in the literature and according to my general research questions, including categories such as: masculinity, sexuality, sport, gender roles, school, culture, and social class. After I coded each transcript using these general themes, I created additional levels of themes, according to concepts which stood out across all research conversation transcripts. I re- coded the data using these new or developed codes which more specifically represented the data, thus taking a more inductive approach to data analysis. Some of these codes included concepts such as: ‘curriculum of manhood’; perception of the school’s beliefs; school practices- implicit and explicit; social status; gender- hierarchy, roles, beliefs;

‘The Kingston Man’; family; tensions; positive attitudes; the role of sport; and learning in PDHPE. As Delamont (2002) asserts, “the ‘analysis’ of qualitative data is a process that continues throughout the research: it is not a separate, self-nominated phase” (p.

171). My coding and analysis of data involved continually going back to the transcripts, fieldnotes, and recordings, revising the coding of themes and reworking the subsequent analysis of these themes.

The key participants

Throughout the study, the perspectives of a range of students from both classes have been included. However, I focused the most on key participants who self-nominated to engage in research conversations. Through this process, I formed deeper relationships with these students and had the opportunity to discuss their ideas and experiences more deeply than with those students who I interacted with only during class. I explore and theorise their opinions, stories and perspectives in the later chapters, but start here by introducing these participants who are at the core of this research. The below descriptions, written in the first person, were developed by the participants. As discussed earlier in this chapter, some specific details have been removed to protect the participant’s anonymity. I have written the descriptions that appear in the third person, as these students did not complete their own introductions13.

Kevin. I’m an outgoing boy who feels older than my years. I have a serious girlfriend who I consider to be part of my family; family is my priority. I enjoy discussions and

I’m serious, I don’t take jokes well. I love being physically active and enjoy playing sport. I’m determined and hope to study psychology in the future. I want to make others feel better. I’m very engaged in the research and find the topic of masculinity

13 Participants attendance to review transcripts and write their introductions in 2017 was voluntary. Some students were away from school or unable to attend and did not provide an introduction to themselves via email so the researcher wrote their introductions.

interesting.

Chad. I have strong traditional family values. I come from a supportive family and have two siblings who I’m close with. I have a strong passion for sport and academic success.

I’m motivated but also enjoy having a good time with mates. Travelling is my favourite way to relax and I’ve been lucky enough to travel around the world, learning about different cultures and making memories. I’m of Southern European heritage and extremely proud of my cultural background.

Bill. I talk a lot and I’m extremely competitive. I love sport. I come from an extremely privileged background but I try not to let that define me. I’m ambitious, but insecure.

By which I mean I’m not always sure I’ll achieve what I want, and to some extent expect.

Bob. I’m tall and Caucasian. I have a blended family with lots of siblings and I have a girlfriend. I consider myself to be good at social interactions, humble and empathetic.

I enjoy watching TV, particularly comedy and crime/mystery. When reflecting on my research conversation, I think I have matured a lot since then.

Stefan. I’m of Southeastern European heritage so I inherently like a good argument and conflict. I come from a happy family with one sibling. I’m tall. I’m interested in politics and consider myself a lover, not a fighter. My views have changed drastically since the research; I’ve matured a lot, I’m not so annoying anymore.

William. I grew up in the country before moving to Sydney. I love playing lots of different sports and play at representative levels, including being part of a specialist program at a University. I’m tall and Caucasian. I have a small family, with one sibling.

Tyrone. I’m still very much in the early puberty stages. I am perceived as violent and angry, but if you get to know me you understand that it’s just who I am and my voice.

I am very heavily active. I do at least two hours of high intensity workouts each day.

Francis. I’m a serious athlete who hit puberty very early and I feel I have matured a lot. My academic marks are slightly above average. I like to goof off a bit and feel I have a decent sense of humour. I have gotten myself into leadership roles which I think will challenge me, but I will grow. I am motivated with what I do and I can handle injuries, poor marks, and falling-outs with friends. I try to never give up and push myself to my limits.

Troy. I’m a patriotic boy who always sticks by his opinion. I have been raised in a family preaching good values and I like talking about things I feel passionately about.

Andre. I was born outside of Australia and immigrated when I was young. I’m a funny, loud and competitive person. I love playing sport and hope to play professionally when

I finish school. I’m very tall. “I want to make a difference to my people”.

Klein. I’m argumentative, rule pushing, strong in my opinions, sarcastic, erratic, spontaneous but, when I need to be, I can be well behaved and empathetic.

James. I enjoy sport, music and having a laugh with friends. I believe in working hard for what you want in life and being loyal to those who are loyal to you.

David. I feel like a stereotypical private school boy, lucky enough to have a supportive family and exposure to great overseas places and cultures. I often feel laidback and borderline lazy, but also that I have a duty and role to make the most of a great education, which my parents believe in whole-heartedly. This isn’t just academic, as

Kingston teaches boys how to conduct themselves and has helped me grasp what I hold dear and what I believe in. Music is an important constant in my life, and I am inspired by several musicians to dream big and change lives other than my own. Kingston has taught me the importance of making connections with lots of other people and commitment.

Mike. I’m an outgoing person who likes to be involved in activities and if I’m passionate about something, I tend to be very competitive. I’ve never been a fan of losing but can also appreciate the lessons it can bring. I believe that adversity and challenge can bring about the most satisfying rewards and can make someone a better person. I’ve grown up in a family that always has my best interests at heart. They are willing to do anything for me and I appreciate them greatly. I place great importance on religion for myself, even though my family are religious we do not attend church and religious events as much as I would like. I feel as if religion is a concept that provides guidance, reassurance and strength. I have a close relationship with my grandparents who were born in Southern Europe and I love spending time with them.

My grandparent’s language is often spoken in my house, however my siblings and I

don’t completely understand the language. I often need my parents to translate for me when I am speaking to my grandparents.

Sonny Bill. I would consider myself quiet most times, a little restless. Keep to myself a lot and participate or contribute when needed. I'm the eldest in a large family, so a lot of eyes look my way when I do something, so I have to be good to push them to be good. In the future I want to be successful in whatever I do, not too sure about what that is yet. But all the rewards that I reap will go back to my family, a lot of sacrifices were made for me to be where I am and I intend to give back.

Adam. I would describe myself as loyal, responsible; someone who values trust and can keep a secret. I see the positive in any situation especially if the desired outcome seems out of reach. I live for sport and being active and just love being around people

- a true friend. My parents were both born overseas.

Alex. Alex is cheerful and opinionated. He laughs often and has strong friendships. He enjoys playing video games and reading comics. He is thoughtful and intelligent.

Renaldo. Renaldo is proud of his cultural heritage. He enjoys playing sport and laughing with his friends.

Leonardis. Leonardis attended a government school before coming to Kingston. He is tall and strong and enjoys playing sport. He is extremely gentle, but physically imposing. He is kind.

Conclusion

In this chapter I have detailed the methodological underpinnings of my research project that provide a platform from which I analyse my data in the following chapters. I have explored the decision-making processes and experiences of designing and implementing research methods and introduce and justify the use of a critical ethnographic approach for the study of boys in school. A researcher cannot attempt to understand boys’ experiences of becoming men in school without acknowledging the impact (and transformation) of their own voice and interpretations. I introduce the importance of researcher reflexivity in this chapter, and in the next chapter explore the application of this through a reflexive account of key moments of identity negotiation during the study.

I have described the practicalities of the research process relating to the requirements of the thesis, navigating the research setting, and maintaining participant anonymity. A detailed discussion of the methods employed for data collection includes acknowledgement of both the theoretical underpinning of methods and the practical application of these for the study of boys in school. This chapter concludes with introductions of the key participants in this study, the majority of which were written by the boys themselves. I now turn my attention to the data itself in the following chapters. The first of which is a reflexive discussion of the study of boys in schools, drawing on key moments of identity negotiation during the research process, to conceptualise the situatedness of the researcher in the research.

Chapter Four- Negotiating Researcher Identity in Fieldwork with

Adolescent Boys

This chapter draws on my experiences, as a young female researcher, of conducting research with adolescent boys and their health and physical education (HPE) teachers in an elite boys’ school in Australia. As discussed in the previous chapter, reflexive research requires us to be “aware of the personal, social, and cultural contexts in which we (and others) live and work and to understand how these affect our conduct, interpretations, and representations of research stories” (Etherington, 2007, p. 601). We do this by attempting to display and critique the ‘self’ at all stages of the research, making transparent the values and beliefs we hold that influence the research process and outcomes.

Ethnographic methodology has, at its centre, “a commitment to the unity of the interpretive process- of the biography and history of the researcher” (Warren, 1988, p.

7). Locating the ethnographic researcher within the research aims to recognise the role and embodied presence of the researcher in the research. Reflexivity enables our work to be understood not only by what we have discovered but by how we discover it; this is an ethical, moral, and methodological issue (Etherington, 2007). This chapter focuses on a neophyte researcher’s experiences of negotiating identity while conducting fieldwork. Key identity categories that were significant in this ethnographic research related to gender: my study was in a ‘boys’ school’, I was read as a ‘female’ researcher.

These and other identity categories ‘young’, ‘student’, and ‘teacher’ proved to be salient in this research setting. This is not to suggest that other identity categories, such as race and ethnicity, did not impact how participants related to me during the fieldwork, but these were not commonly sites of difference between the participants and myself, so were less visible.

Qualitative researchers have developed a vast body of literature on how social positions of the researcher shape the research process (see Delamont & Atkinson, 1995; Denzin

& Lincoln, 2005; Emerson & Fretz, 2011 for useful summaries). Ultimately, this literature argues that research is not ‘value-free’ and that ethical, reflexive research

“requires us to come from behind the protective barrier of objectivity and invite others to join with us in our explanation of being a researcher and being human” (Etherington,

2007, p. 615). This reflexive methodological work has examined many sites of difference (and similarity) between researchers and their research participants. Gender

(Jachyra, Atkinson, & Gibson, 2014; Pallotta- Chiarolli, 1990; Purdy & Jones, 2013;

Russell, 2005; Sallee & Harris III, 2011), race and ethnicity (Pang, 2016; Twine &

Warren, 2000), social class (Mercader, Weber, & Durif-Varembont, 2015), appearance and age (Pascoe, 2007; Russell, 2005) of researchers and in the research relationship are now recognised and discussed in methodological literature. As Mac an Ghaill

(1991) purported “all educational ethnographies have a hidden history; a narrative of what really happened while doing educational research” (p. 102). By shining light on these ‘hidden histories’, researchers can personally and publicly engage in the reflexive project. This chapter joins a growing body of research that attests to the importance of making visible the ‘backstage’ (McCorkel & Myers, 2003), ‘hidden history’(Mac an

Ghaill, 1991), and ‘speed bumps’ (Weis & Fine, 1998) of ethnographic research.

Demonstrating a commitment to reflexive ethnographic methodology, this chapter will explore my research with adolescent boys, contributing to the discussion of the researcher’s ‘self’ in the research process. It adds to this growing body of literature by drawing on reflexive narratives of conducting research with ‘elite’ school boys and their male HPE teachers. I focus on key moments, that Weis and Fine term ‘speed bumps’

(Weis & Fine, 1998), during the fieldwork, where my identity as a researcher was questioned, negotiated or highlighted. It goes beyond simply labelling or acknowledging researcher identity categories, to explore how researcher characteristics actively constituted a particular researcher-researched relationship (see for example

Perrone, 2010; Wang, 2013; Wilkinson, 2016). It explores how my own biography, personal and physical dispositions are an important element of my research due to their impact on how the students and teachers related to and interacted with me.

As a researcher “my awareness of my own gender identity and performances influences the research dynamic” (Stahl, 2016, p. 147) thus, impacting on access to quality, authentic data. I make connections to my own reflexivity and provide insight into this process of negotiation to consider how the researcher’s performance of identity is played out during fieldwork. The discussion of the ‘hidden history’ presented here resonates with Purdy and Jones’ (2013) analysis of the identity work done by a female researcher in a male-only sporting environment. Their paper explores the complex and dynamic nature of identity renegotiation in the field. Pascoe’s (2007) ethnographic research also highlights the unique challenges that female researchers face when studying adolescent boys. Her adoption of Mandell’s (1988) concept of a ‘least-adult’

identity and development of a ‘least-gendered’ identity provide a helpful framework for thinking about researcher’s identity ‘work’ in the ethnographic process and will be explored in this reflexive account.

The ‘hidden history’ of this educational ethnography is revealed by exploring ‘speed bumps’ that occurred throughout the fieldwork which were important in my negotiation of identity. Through the analysis of these experiences, I highlight the centrality of the researcher’s physical, embodied identity to the research itself and suggest this process should take a more visible role in research.

I was committed to engaging in reflexive practice in the research, so employed several strategies to do this throughout the research process. The first of these was to engage in the initial writing and review of the literature around researcher positionality, gender, appearance and attraction in research. This writing (and conference presentations) was the starting point for this chapter. During the fieldwork I met weekly with my supervisor who acted as a ‘critical friend’ (Costa & Kallick, 1993). Her role was to ask provocative questions, offer alternative perspectives, and critique my work. When analysing the data, I answered questions like ‘what stood out to me?’ after listening to the recording of each focus group. Later, I returned to these responses and added my critical reflections on how my own beliefs and values might impact how I view the data.

I employed the strategy of member checking by returning to the school the following year and giving participants the opportunity to review transcripts and make changes or clarifications. These strategies enabled me to critically reflect on my positioning and identity as a researcher, and how I interpret and represent the data.

Negotiating Entry

The process of negotiating entry and identity in a school requires consideration of acceptance on an administrative level, by school staff, as well as with students (see for example Jachyra, Atkinson, & Washiya, 2015; Russell, 2005). When I first attempted to negotiate access to a school site, I contacted three schools asking for the opportunity to discuss our research. Within a week, all schools contacted me to establish a meeting to discuss the research. In these meetings inquiries about my age, experience, and reasons for my interest were made. The subtext of these inquiries questioned why a young woman should be given access to conduct research about boys in a boys’ school.

Sallee and Harris III (2011) suggest, “women who study predominantly male settings are often challenged in gaining access and building rapport with participants” (p. 411), an issue well documented elsewhere (see Gurney, 1985; Horn, 1997; Pini, 2005).

Access to elite spaces is considered particularly difficult, leading to the relative scarcity of literature on the most privileged in society (Gaztambide-Fernández & Howard,

2012; Hoffman, 1980).

In my own case, gaining access to the research site did not prove as challenging as expected. In each meeting with schools, it was apparent my status as a researcher from

a ‘sandstone’ university14 was highly regarded. There was a strong sense that the principals and/or heads of departments were trying to impress me with what their schools had to offer, with one meeting even ending in an extensive tour of the school’s chapel and grounds. Each school seemed interested in establishing links to the

University, due to its prestige and social standing. During my time as a researcher at

Kingston College, I, and the Head Teacher who acted as my host, were interviewed to discuss how we had established a research partnership. This was to be published in the school’s magazine which is distributed broadly to families and ‘old boys’. After I reminded them of how this may threaten the school’s anonymity in the research, they chose not to publish the article; however, their desire to publicise this information suggested their engagement with a researcher from a reputable university contributed to the re/production of their privilege.

As Gaztambide-Fernández and Howard suggest, in the study of elites “access is typically premised on researchers’ already established links to elite groups, including their elite status as members of the academy” (2012, p. 294). I was conscious that my presence as a researcher, from an elite institution, of an elite space may continue to reproduce privilege. During my fieldwork the boys often asked about “how I got into

Sydney Uni”, told me about their family members who attend the University, and

14 ‘Sandstone’ university refers to a group of six universities in Australia that were founded before World

War One. These universities are considered most prestigious in the historically determined hierarchy

(Marginson, 1999).

shared their own aspirations of studying at Sydney University. My association with the

University was considered prestigious by the students and the ‘gatekeepers’ of the school. My ability to research in the elite space was enabled by my education at, and ongoing involvement with, an elite university. After being accepted into a school site, the project of developing a researcher identity in the field became paramount.

Developing a Researcher Identity

Discussions of ethnographic fieldwork commonly refer to tensions around taking up an

‘insider’ or ‘outsider’ status (see for example Deutsch, 2004; Fitzpatrick, 2010;

Giampapa, 2011). Fitzpatrick (2013) suggests calls for researchers to adopt or establish

‘insider’ or ‘outsider’ status positions the researcher as a “double agent who must go undercover” (2013, p. 54) to gain ‘authentic accounts’. Presenting identity negotiation as an insider/outsider dichotomy ignores the complexities of human relationships. All ethnography is framed by power relationships (Lather, 1986). As ethnographers we must consider how to develop ethical relationships and, as much as possible, mitigate the negative effects of power in our relationships. I focused on participating in classes, alongside the students, and building relationships through this participation, developing trust and connection with students (Fine, Weis, Weseen, & Wong, 2000), rather than trying to gain ‘insider’ information. As a qualified HPE teacher, I had some experience relating to students while on my practicums but had not worked full time in a school before conducting my research. I intended for my relationship with participants to be more casual and less hierarchical than a teacher-student dynamic.

Although I had certainly expected my identity as a young woman to be significant during the fieldwork, my interaction with Tom (a Year Twelve student) early on in the fieldwork highlighted this. “Isn’t it weird for you being down there in PE when you’re the only woman?” asked Tom15 as we stood on the tennis courts. He went on to explain himself further, “I guess it makes sense really, that you would have men teaching the boys that stuff. It might be a bit weird having a woman do it”. This was the first conversation I had with Tom during my two terms of fieldwork at Kingston College.

We were at a whole school sports competition day and he had been sent over by another teacher to investigate who I was and what I was doing at the College. Tom enquired about my place and belonging amongst the male only PDHPE faculty, voicing an inquisitive uneasiness about my position that others only alluded to during my research.

My identities as a young woman, a researcher, and an HPE teacher were all significant.

Mandell’s notion of taking up the ‘least-adult’ identity and Pascoe’s extension of this concept to adopt a ‘least-gendered identity’ were a helpful way of thinking about my positioning (1988; 2006). Taking up the ‘least-adult’ role meant I spent my time with students while in classes; I ensured I did not stand at the front of the class like the teacher did. I asked students to call me ‘Rachel’, not ‘ma’am’ as they did with their female teachers, although they often reverted to this familiar practice. When inviting students to take part in focus groups, I avoided making an announcement at the front of

15Pseudonyms are used to protect the anonymity of research participants and the school in which the research took place.

class, and instead wrote a casual message on the class website. I wanted to develop trust with students, so tried not to obviously react when they shared alarming information, swore, or spoke about people in a way usually reprimanded. I often had to remind the boys that I would not tell on them or get them in trouble. During one conversation with my ‘critical friend’ I explained to her how awkward it sometimes was trying not to take up a teacher role in the school. When the boys were mucking up around me, I pretended not to notice it, and often other teachers would look at me, expecting me to step in. I noticed students censored their talk increasingly less. Several weeks into the fieldwork, during a lesson on pornography use and sexuality, the boys included me in their conversations. At one point during this discussion a student appeared to have a moment of realisation that I was different, he looked at me and asked, “Wait, how old are you?”

I used this moment to share openly about my age; I felt this was a respectful response to the student’s own vulnerability in sharing about his life.

I was conscious of developing a way of communicating with students that was comfortable, where power could be equally shared. I used my prior experience talking with boys of this age to inform how I engaged in conversation during the research. As

I have previously stated, for several years during my undergraduate degree I worked as a nanny to a family with two sons who attended an elite school in Sydney, Australia.

After years of driving the boys to and from sports training, meeting their friends, and being a part of their everyday lives, I developed an understanding of their cultural world. In their work on negotiating masculine identity, Wetherell and Edley (1999, p.

338) suggest that “when people speak, their talk reflects not only the local pragmatics of that particular conversational context, but also much broader or more global patterns

in collective sense-making and understanding”. My experience as a nanny formed my knowledge of the common identity-constituting spaces of the white upper-class masculinities in Sydney Australia, providing me with a familiarity of the ‘local pragmatics’ tied to this place and space. I knew the schools the boys competed against in sport, who had won and lost the most recent competitions, their social media and communication practices, the types of houses and suburbs they lived in and what social activities they engaged in. I drew on my knowledge of these cultural patterns as a foundation for relationship building.

When considering how to take up a ‘least-gendered identity’, I felt conflicted. I did not want to ‘give up’ my identity as a young woman, but also did not want this identity to be the only thing students noticed. I adopted a casual form of dress, less professional than the teachers, but more conservative than the boys’ female peers. I decided never to wear my long hair down, because I identified this as a particularly feminine aspect of my appearance. I applied minimal makeup, pulled my hair back, and wore clothes one size too large for me in order to not highlight the shape of my body. Although I sometimes longed for the height advantage wearing heels brings, I wore flats only, and allowed students to tower over me. When participating in PE lessons I wore shapeless sportswear, making sure to never wear anything short or tight. I wanted my clothes to look as much like the students’ sports uniform as possible. I participated in PE lessons, just like the boys. My decision to participate reflected both my desire to build relationships and my personal belief that PE should be an inclusive space where the expectation of ‘gendered differences’ is actively challenged.

Doing Sport with Boys

HPE and sport in schools are “commonly regarded as sites where dominant or hegemonic masculinities cultivate, often at the expense of individuals who embody different gendered identities” (Mooney & Hickey, 2012, p. 199). Research discussing the privileging of ‘hegemonic’ or ‘dominant’ masculinities in school PE is prevalent in sociological literature (Connell, 2005, 2008; Hickey, 2008, 2010; Jachyra et al., 2015;

Light & Kirk, 2000; Mooney & Hickey, 2012; Parker, 1996). Collectively, this research highlights the centrality of the body in PE settings where gender differences are particularly emphasised. While conducting this research I was the only female amongst a PDHPE faculty of ten men and all male students. This meant for most participants, it was the first time they had experienced a female presence in the classroom and PE lessons in high school.

Mooney and Hickey (2012) explored the experiences of two female PE teachers in an all boys’ school as they negotiated their work and identities. Their findings reveal teachers utilised strategies to reconcile tensions associated with being ‘positioned’ outside the gendered hegemony of the school (Mooney & Hickey, 2012). In Smart’s historic piece on feminism and the law, she argues the male dominant composition of the judiciary means courts appear ‘alien’ to women (1989). Although a trained HPE teacher, the PE context felt particularly alien to me in my first few weeks at the school.

Over time, although my alien features (young and female) did not change, the terrain became more familiar.

As an ethnographer, I employed a number of strategies to reconcile the gendered tensions in the HPE context. I tried to be patient and wait for participants to feel comfortable to include me; I was aware of the significance of time in building rapport.

Initially, I was particularly uncomfortable in PE lessons, feeling out of place amongst the 15-16 year old boys. It felt difficult to perform my gender, either because I was not performing in the way I was used to, or because I was so aware of my own performance.

I was unsure about how to engage in the lesson as the only female. I wondered whether they would have gendered expectations of my physical ability and whether I would be included or excluded.

Our first lesson, boys were completing fitness tests, and I did not feel like I could join in, nor was I particularly interested in being directly measured against them. Their teacher told me, “They’re boys you know, so they’re competitive and they all do compulsory sport so it’s relevant for them… they want to know what their strengths and weaknesses are and how they can improve”. This conversation made me nervous about my plan to participate in PE lessons. Although I had always considered myself to be competent at sport and comfortable in the PE environment, I expected the boys to be far more skilled than me. In our second lesson the teacher started with a pair activity, as the odd one out I tried to stand to the side, but not directly with the teacher.

At the start of the next activity, when teams were being formed, a student asked me if

I would like to join their team. This was an important moment of being invited in by the boys, and from then on, my participation in PE was expected.

Talking Sex with Boys

Participating in PE lessons with the boys was part of my attempt to create a ‘least- gendered identity’. I drew on my masculine cultural capital such as my competence in

PE and competitive nature, my knowledge about cars and sport, a joking interactional style, and established a style of dress and appearance that was not clearly feminine.

During one conversation the boys found out that I had attended trials to be an Australian

Rugby 7s player. Although I was completely unsuccessful and really was not a skilled rugby player, I sometimes heard them telling their friends that I played rugby and likening me to women on the Australian team, and I did not correct them. But there were times when adopting a ‘least-gendered identity’ proved difficult.

During group-work in the HPE Year 10 Sexualities unit, my group were given the task of researching the contraceptive pill. Although the unit had discussed diverse sexualities and aimed to foster an appreciation for diversity and acceptance, this lesson seemed to assume all students would require this contraception knowledge. The discussion and tasks around contraception did not challenge dominant heteronormative viewpoints. Although my research aims to critique heteronormativity in sexualities education, my presence as a researcher in this class fell short of doing this. Instead of taking on the role of the teacher or having a more active role in the direction of the lesson, I maintained my researcher identity as a participant and engaged in group work with the class. As a mid-twenties user of the contraceptive pill, I had a lot of information to share, yet tried to let the group take the lead. When asked a difficult question during our presentation to the class, my group were unsure so I stepped in to help. It was clear

I had some additional experience, so I decided to share with them that I was a user of this form of contraception. They listened intently, seemingly aware of being given rare insight into the life of a woman. My group were proud and sharing this information signalled to students I felt safe in this space, without ignoring my difference. The teacher later reflected he was surprised my presence did not stop the students from sharing personal information; instead he felt they were more open to discussion when I was there. Instances like this enabled me to develop rapport with participants, by sharing some of my life experiences which were of particular interest to them; however,

I was conscious that it may have contributed to the reproduction of heteronormativity in this space. In such instances, maintaining a ‘least-gendered identity’ was not possible in the ways I had originally envisaged. As Stahl suggests, “adeptness [was] required of the researcher to sense the mood of the participant[s] and attune one’s approach appropriately” (2016, p. 154).

From previous experiences as a pre-service teacher, I was conscious that my age and looks might position me as physically attractive to some participants. I wanted to be careful with the way I presented myself, to appear less attractive, whilst also being comfortable with myself and my identity and physicality as a young female. Indeed,

Grauerholz et al. (2012) note that one of the most commonplace interpersonal dynamics, physical or sexual attraction, is seemingly absent from sociological literature. Pascoe (2007) reflected the boys at River High tried to transform her into a

“girl their age” (p. 238). These processes of building dominant, masculine identities and asserting these in relation to the women around them was part of the everyday practice she observed in this school. Pascoe’s (2007) experience of overt sexualisation

100

and objectification while researching teenage boys in school was different to my own.

At no point during my fieldwork did students overtly position me as a potential sexual partner or emphasise my sexual availability to assert their control over me. There are many possible explanations for this, but it is interesting to note the significant cultural and contextual differences between Pascoe’s and my own research sites and participants. Where Pascoe’s research was in a co-educational school, focusing on the masculine spaces, my research was in a boys only school. In a boys only environment, processes of identity construction were different, they took place without the presence of ‘girls’ to position themselves in opposition to within the schooling context. It’s possible more of this work took place outside of the school; boys often talked and teased one another about the girls they were seeing on the weekends.

Doing Deportment with Boys

As previously discussed, I was aware my appearance while conducting fieldwork would immediately convey messages about who I was, potentially affecting participant’s responses. When searching the literature, I was rarely able to find a description of what researchers wore and why. Fitzpatrick (2010) reflects on her decision to wear casual clothing (baggy jeans and t-shirts) suggesting she believed this would help her to fit in amongst the crowd. Pascoe (2007) intentionally dressed and carried herself differently from the teenage girls at River High. She wore low-slung baggy jeans or cargo pants, black t-shirts or sweaters and puffy vests or jackets.

Spanger (2012) tells how she wore no showy makeup or heeled shoes to position herself as less threatening to participants. Wilkinson (2016) discussed how her dress

101

and appearance identified her as ‘Scouse’, “donning big hair, fake tan and false eyelashes” (p. 119) and was shared by participants, impacting on her ease in making friendships during her fieldwork. It was obvious to me there would be no way I could

‘fit in’ within a boys only school where they wore strict uniform. Instead, I tried to consider how to dress and present myself so that I did not stand out.

Early in my fieldwork experience, I attended a manners and style session provided to

Year 10 boys at the school, run by an external company. The purpose of these workshops was to prepare the boys to stand out in interviews and make positive social impressions. The workshops emphasised the importance of physical presentation, with the facilitator suggesting, “when we look at people we automatically see things”. It was as if she was confirming my assumptions about the importance of appearance and dress, articulating this to the very young men I was most concerned about giving the

‘right impression’.

Williams and Heikes (1993) consider the way that gender impacts the research process and call for further research to examine how gender matters in different research contexts. Their own study observed the social desirability bias in action as participants avoided making comments that would offend or threaten the interviewer. Male participants in their study suggested what they said and how they said it would vary depending on the gender of the person they were talking to. Denzin (2001) suggests interviews are performances that facilitate visibility of lived experience; both researcher and participant are performing and negotiating the experience. As a young, novice researcher, I became very aware of the performative nature of not only interviews but

102

also other ethnographic research methods, such as observation. Before entering the classroom, I would consider where to stand in the line, how to enter, where to sit, how to sit, who to sit with. I thought deeply about these things and constructed my performance so I conveyed a particular persona to participants. I avoided entering the room first, like a teacher would, or standing at the front of the class.

In research conversations towards the end of my fieldwork, I sat casually in the small rooms in the school library. I wore pants and crossed my legs with my ankle over my knee rather than knee over knee. I would lean back in my chair, sometimes rocking on it, like the boys. My appearance and deportment muted my difference and helped me to gain access into the boys’ worlds. Like Pascoe, if I was not included as some sort of

“honorary guy, [I was] at least some sort of neutered observer who wouldn’t be offended” (2007, p. 236).

Becoming ‘One of the Boys’?

PE lessons were a significant site in my practice of a ‘least-adult’ and ‘least-gendered identity’. During my third PE lesson, I participated alongside the boys from the start.

The first warm up game involved tucking two braids into the sides of our shorts. The aim of the game was to steal other’s tags and avoid having your own stolen. The whistle blew and movement started in every direction. I looked ahead to see Calvin charging towards me. He came close and lunged to grab my tag. I quickly spun to my right and as I moved, we collided with extreme force. Calvin fell to the ground and as I recovered from the shock I moved toward him, outstretching my hand to help him up. He looked

103

up at me, and I could immediately see that something was not right. He pointed across the gym floor to where his tooth was laying, knocked completely from his mouth. The moments following were a blur as the tooth was collected and another student whisked

Calvin away to the school nurse. I looked around me and the entire class of boys had gathered. I felt deeply distressed I had injured a student, but in the moment, I responded by turning my gaze to the other students and saying, “watch out”. They erupted with laughter, the teacher blew his whistle, and the game continued. Parker (1996) has suggested experiences of aggression and violence, in a sporting context are “celebrated as active agents in the masculinising process” (1996, p. 147). Similarly, Connell (1995) argues participation in contact sports is an important signifier of masculinity across socio-economic groups in Australian society. This experience of (unintentional) violence acted to both signify Calvin’s masculinity and engage me in the masculinising process.

The incident with Calvin was particularly significant in my fieldwork. As a researcher

I was anxious the incident would cause trouble at the administrative level, the parents would demand my removal from the school, and the research would come to an end far before I had planned. Over the course of the next week, my anxiety was eased. In passing the Principal mentioned the incident jokingly, and the student’s parents praised my competitiveness, saying Calvin had “finally met his match”. When I arrived at school early the following morning, Calvin had already dropped by the office to see me. He returned at recess, in surprisingly good spirits, showing off the piece of metal holding his tooth in. In other classes, boys asked for more detail about what happened, gossiping about whether Calvin had cried or not, and thinking it was funny I had hurt

104

him. The boys’ responses to this incident both demonstrated our gendered difference and positioned us as more similar than we may have thought. My difference was clear, as boys glorified the instance of an adult female hurting a teenage boy. At the same time, being involved in this violence, was significant in building relationships and from this instance onwards I felt more accepted by the boys. “Institutions such as organised sport which are viewed publicly as responsible for “making men” often require males to endure accidental and intentionally inflicted pain” (Gard & Meyen, 2000, p. 26).

Enduring physical pain as a result of sport is seen as a worthy risk given the reward of manhood. When we returned to PE only days later, the teacher made a joke about watching out for my elbow, Calvin beamed with pride, and the other boys laughed. In some way, exerting my masculine cultural capital through strength and violence resulted in me being more accepted and respected by the boys.

Towards the end of my fieldwork I sat, as always, in assembly amongst the students.

At the end of assembly, one of the PE teachers told me he had another staff member approach him during assembly. The other teacher was alarmed and asking, “who’s that girl sitting with the boys”? He peered into the crowd and saw me sitting there, then assured the other teacher I had been sitting with the same boys for several months now.

This instance suggested I was able to move through the school in a surprisingly covert manner. Throughout my time at the school I regularly had teachers ask me if I was there doing my ‘prac’ or ‘internship’, assuming I was an undergraduate teaching student who had come to the school for one of my placements. Although, at times, I felt successful in becoming less alien amongst the boys it was clear, from instances like this, my

105

gender, age and appearance impacted my ability to fit in and just become ‘one of the boys’.

Conclusion

Michelle Fine (1994) and others (Behar, 1996; Wagle & Cantaffa, 2008) advocate for the examination of lived experiences of researchers. Conducting fieldwork in an elite boys’ school as a young, novice, female researcher presented specific challenges to negotiating access and identity. Throughout the research process, key moments or

‘speed bumps’ (Weis & Fine, 1998) highlighted dilemmas of identity negotiation in the field. This attempt to uncover the ‘hidden history’ of the fieldwork situates the research within the context of my own identity configuration and reconfiguration. Less common in methodological literature is the recognition of the central role the physical body plays in fieldwork relations. Comprehensive explorations of power, gender and culture in the field (see for example Forbes & Weiner, 2014; Parameswaran, 2001) are devoid of specific reference to the body, appearance and embodied experience of the researcher.

In my experience, the physical act of (accidental) violence, which occurred within the elite school context was significant to my acceptance by the boys and likely impacted their interest in talking with me openly later during research conversations. The occurrence of a ‘manners and style’ lesson during school is testament to the primacy of bodily presentation and deportment within the upper-class context. Here, aesthetic neutrality is considered ‘respectable’ and the presentation of my body in this way was familiar to students.

106

The process of engaging in writing about my positioning and negotiation of identity in the field has been a valuable practice as part of conducting reflexive research. As this chapter demonstrates, locating the ‘self’ in ethnographic research illuminates the strategies employed and identity negotiation that takes place as researchers engage in fieldwork. In my case, being a young female researcher of adolescent boys, the way I performed my age and gender were of particular significance. Sharing the ‘hidden history’ of how these identities were negotiated attests to the complex process of gaining access to quality, authentic data.

In the male dominated context of HPE my presence transformed the field through participation and reciprocal sharing of knowledge and experience. In turn, the fieldwork was transformative for me as a researcher. Being invited into the world of adolescent boys was a privilege and has contributed to a more nuanced understanding of learning and constructing masculinities in an elite boys’ school. Given the insights that have emerged through a reflexive discussion of negotiations of identity, I hope to encourage other researchers to engage in public discussions of researcher’s embodied, bodily experiences and negotiations of identity in the field. Recognising the details of how researchers position themselves in the field, negotiate and renegotiate their identities, and the significance of social dynamics and relationships to this process acknowledges the ‘messiness’ of ethnographic research and avoids presenting a ‘sanitised’ account.

This is an essential foundation for respectful research that honours participants’ identities and avoids misappropriating their knowledge. Opening these spaces, starting conversations, and making known the ‘hidden histories’ of ethnographic research

107

makes an important contribution to the reflexive project and enables our work to be understood not only by what we have discovered but by how we discover it.

108

Chapter Five- Becoming ‘The Kingston Man’: A Curriculum of

Manhood at Kingston College

Boys make their way up the stairs, past the plaques and trophy display cases on the walls, celebrating a history of sporting success at Kingston. There is equipment stacked on one side of the passageway, across from the largest gymnasium at the school, at the ready for the next basketball practice. Boys murmur to one another as they file through the doors and teachers barked instructions, “Quiet! Sit! Quickly!” The session begins as a middle-aged woman is introduced to the cohort of young men. She is dressed conservatively and speaks with confidence. She introduces herself and her business, she is an expert in deportment and runs a business which helps students, sportspeople, and business people create the right first impression. She says to the students, “I’m here so when you walk into a job interview, you can stand out. Or… when you meet a girlfriend’s parents, you can leave them thinking, I like that guy”.

The presenter goes on to explain the importance of first impressions and students are given a task, to practice first impression scenarios with their peers. They spend most of their time joking around and acting out bad first impressions. They imitate scratching their balls, lifting their shirts up, untucking ties, scrunching socks and slouching. The presenter seems unimpressed, becoming firmer and attempting to prove the importance of these sessions as she continues. She explains how her interview skills training has helped one family get their children into medicine, law and pharmacy degrees, how 109

smart the school blazers look on the boys, and how the cars people drive say a lot about the person. She goes on to discuss the corporate landscape that the boys will one day find themselves a part of saying, “the girls have an easier road out there than you do…if a woman complains in the workplace, you haven’t got a leg to stand on, you’re in trouble.”

After the sessions I walked with a PDHPE teacher back to the office. He shared his concerns about the talks saying they were outdated and didn’t connect with the ‘modern man’. Then he turned to me and asked, “what did you think of that?”. I politely smiled, trying not to give away too much. “Oh, yes very interesting” I said. I was conscious of not passing judgement on their practices and trying to maintain a collegial relationship with staff. In my head I was thinking of all the young men I knew who had attended similar schools, how charismatic they were, how well spoken, and well presented… and it was clear to me, this wasn’t coincidence. It was intentional and it was learned, as part of the curriculum at the elite boys’ school.



This session provided to Year 10 students gives some insight into the values and practices of the Kingston College that are part of both the official and hidden curriculum of the school. Construction and presentation of knowledge in schools is not politically, socially or culturally neutral. Knowledge formally presented in the school curriculum and pedagogy used in the implementation of the curriculum is considered official

110

school knowledge. However also at play, is the knowledge, attitudes, norms, beliefs, assumptions and values learned in school but outside the scope of the formal curriculum, this is often termed the hidden curriculum (see for example Bain, 1975,

1985, 1990; Chepyator-Thomson & Ennis, 1997; P. W. Jackson, 1968; Kirk, 1992;

Ronholt, 2002). Terri Seddon (1983) suggests the distinguishing factor between the official and hidden curriculum is that these attitudes and values are communicated unintentionally, unconsciously, and unavoidably. However, it is through the medium of the official curriculum and formal routine activities of the school that students learn the hidden curriculum.

This chapter aims to consider the curriculum of manhood at Kingston to investigate the underlying values and principles that guide selections of knowledge associated with masculinity. In doing so, it draws on field notes and vignettes, interviews with school staff and conversations with students, to better understand not only the intended knowledge, but the hidden curriculum of manhood at the school.

The presence of a series of workshops on ‘manners and style’ at Kingston makes a particular statement about the type of men the school is trying to develop. The presenter’s reference to the boys impressing their girlfriends’ parents, insinuated a heteronormative view of relationships and sexualities. Her examples and expectations of potential career paths for the students reinforced the highly privileged nature of being a student at this school; as Bill later commented, “almost asking them to be elitist”.

Finally, her discussion of sexual harassment claims in the workplace and the potential

“minefield” for the boys, insinuated that men are unfairly being called to account for

111

sexual harassment of women. The official curriculum being presented, brought with it powerful messages of what it means to be ‘The Kingston Man’, the intent was for boys to learn to be respectful, professional and well-presented. At the same time the session was laden with a hidden curriculum of values, attitudes, norms and assumptions that suggested the boys should be heterosexual, aspire to being successful in the corporate world, and be critical of women who don’t tolerate their behaviour.

A Curriculum of Manhood at Kingston College

Projects associated with ‘redefining’ manhood in elite boys’ schools are not new.

Proctor (2011) describes a process of reorganising elite masculinity that took place in elite boys’ schools in Australia in the 1990s, as ‘older’ and more ‘traditional’ forms of masculinity that were seen as problematic were reimagined as modern men of leadership. Not only were these reforms about change, but they focused on identifying and capitalising on strengths of the school. At Kingston, the Principal described the old attitudes, common at elite boys’ schools, that they were trying to change: “I call them jock strap and spurs [people], the old male attitudes and ‘win at all costs’ attitude or lack of sportsmanship”. In an attempt to challenge the societal discourse of problematic masculinity, commonly referred to as ‘toxic masculinity’, Kingston developed an alternative curriculum. This kind of project became common amongst similar elite boys’ schools at a time of increasing public engagement with discussions of masculinity, and Kingston intentionally embedded the alternative curriculum into the pastoral care program, sport program, and importantly within PDHPE.

112

The Principal explained the specific challenges in an all-boys school which require explicit discussion around “relationships with girls, gender issues, gender equity and moving into a society that is dramatically different now, for better”. In order to address these specific needs in boys’ education, Kingston embed education about ‘what it means to be a good man’ across the curriculum. In particular, these discussions form part of the curriculum in PDHPE because, “It’s in a compulsory subject. It’s a core subject, so it is important that it is part of their agenda to discuss, what are the attributes of a good man?” (Principal). However, students also learn about how to be men well beyond the constraints of the classroom. Because of this, a broader understanding of curriculum helps to conceptualise and investigate the project of ‘making men’ at

Kingston.

Curriculum is understood not simply as the subjects comprising a course of study, but as Popkewitz (1997) articulates, as a form of social regulation. Curriculum can be viewed as:

a particular, historically formed knowledge that inscribes rules and

standards by which we ‘reason’ about the world and our ‘self’ as a

productive member of that world… Curriculum is a disciplining

technology that directs how the individual is to act, feel, talk, and ‘see’

the world and ‘self’ (Popkewitz, 1997, p. 132).

As Evans (2014) contends, what passes for Health Education and Physical Education in the school curriculum “is never mere accident…it always reflects politics and

113

ideologies, class and cultural interests and distributions of power and control” (p. 545).

Critical analysis of what is included (and excluded) and what solutions (and problems) are offered through the health education curriculum provides insight into the politics and ideologies of healthy citizenship. Decisions to teach manhood in health education suggests recognition of a problem with manhood and a curriculum of manhood is then positioned as a disciplining technology that directs how students should see the world and self.

Curriculum decisions about the teaching of manhood positioned the school as apart or distinct from the ‘societal norm’ and instead as progressive and values-oriented. An active approach to teaching masculinity through units in PDHPE was integral to the masculinising processes at Kingston. Apple (2004) suggests decisions about knowledge in schools is not random: “It is selected and organized around sets of principles and values that come from somewhere, that represent particular views of normality and deviance, of good and bad, and of what ‘good people act like’” (pp. 60-61). Apple’s

(2004) view of curriculum encourages a deeper look into the values that underpin knowledge selections in schools, and in particular the knowledge selected at Kingston related to the teaching of masculinity and sexuality.

During my time at Kingston, I took part in lessons that formed the Year 10 PDHPE unit titled, There’s More to Being a Man. This unit and the following unit which focused on sexuality, were the most explicit and intentional examples of masculinities and sexualities education at the school. Below, I describe one of these lessons. In this lesson an alternative to ‘toxic masculinity’ was offered in the form of ‘The Kingston Man’

114

framework. ‘The Kingston Man’ is a figure referred to in official school discourses

(such as websites, posters placed within the school, in promotional materials) that symbolises the character, values and practices considered both desirable and required in students. ‘The Kingston Man’ concept was formalised a few years prior to my research at the school and intended to provide students, teachers, and parents with a clear set of values that the school promoted in its students and graduates. The concept was further taken up by the PDHPE department, where students explored what it meant to be a ‘Kingston Man’ and discussed the official ‘Kingston Man’ values and practices often. ‘The Kingston Man’ forms part of what I refer to as a curriculum of manhood.

Through a curriculum of manhood, the school’s view of normality, of what good people, and particularly good men, act like is endorsed. Learning ‘The Kingston Man’ was a process of establishing a contrasting figure against which ‘The Kingston Man’ stands out.

It is a Tuesday afternoon at Kingston and students pile into Mr. West’s class before they stand at attention, say good afternoon to their teacher, and receive an invitation to be seated. Mr West addresses the class from the front and explains today’s task.

Students are to consider the consequences of the media on young people’s wellbeing and how influential and powerful media campaigns are. As he does this, he paces at the front of the class, with his head high, walking slowly and deliberately, and making eye contact with students. While he is explaining the task to the class a boy near me grabs a magazine and points at an extremely muscular man on the cover, “Phoaaarrr, Men’s

115

Health16!” he says. He points at the front page of the magazine saying, “boys, boys, that is me”. Another quickly finds a picture online of a muscular man and shows his screen to the group, “boys, boys, masculinity at its finest”. He has googled a photo of his classmate’s father who is a bodybuilder. Another turns his computer screen around to the group showing a picture of a famous bodybuilder he has as his background display.

Meanwhile, Mr West continues to explain the task; students are to compare and contrast media images of the stereotypical man and ‘The Kingston Man’. The majority of students get to work, competing to find a picture of the biggest man possible, to represent the stereotypical man. They are excited by depictions of extreme masculinity and discuss strategies for getting ‘big’ throughout the activity. At the end of the lesson some students show their posters. The stereotypical man is a shirtless body builder;

‘The Kingston Man’ is a tall, muscular, well-groomed man in a suit.

In the lesson described above, students demonstrated an inherent connection between masculinity and bodies. They suggested our society values hyper-muscular men and this image is in contrast to ‘The Kingston Man’ who is appropriately muscular, tall, and handsome. ‘The Kingston Man’ was positioned as the ‘good man’; the alternative to societal norms and ‘toxic masculinity’.

16 Men’s Health Magazine is a popular Australian magazine which features information on current news, health, sex, nutrition, style, weight loss, life, running, and motoring.

116

The Kingston businessman

Howard Prosser’s (2016) concept of the elite imaginary provides a helpful lens to consider the processes at play in the classroom in an elite school, such as Kingston.

Prosser argues that in the neoliberal educational climate, eliteness is reproduced (in part) through elite schooling, promising superior academic performance, and solid values instruction resulting in well-rounded characters (Prosser, 2016). This educational advantage is seen as an investment in a child’s future and speculation of future returns produces an “elite imaginary: an image of what eliteness constitutes”

(Prosser, 2016, p. 224). In the lesson described above, students essentially portrayed the elite imaginary by allocating it a bodily image. In most cases, ‘The Kingston Man’ appeared as a ‘businessman’. Their vision of ‘The Kingston Man’ was closely tied to their envisaged futures; again, this justifies the investment made in elite schooling.

When discussing the values of ‘The Kingston Man’, Troy suggested the school is

“trying to… get as many boys to be a Kingston Man and to be a good man. Then that sets us up… for after school.” Discourse surrounding being ‘set up’, being prepared for the future, and ‘becoming men’ was embedded within discussions of ‘The Kingston

Man’ in conversations in classrooms, assemblies and amongst students.

Students understood the attributes of ‘The Kingston Man’ through envisioning these values as the ideal ‘output’: where the figure of the successful businessman is elided with the ‘good’ man of ‘The Kingston Man’. The character, values and practices considered both desirable and required in students are emblematic of the successful

117

businessman, thus ‘The Kingston Man’ can also be understood as a Kingston businessman.

Consumption of elite schooling promises to provide both exceptional academic opportunity and development of the ideal character. Possessing the ideal character, combined with the best academic opportunities should result in a future of success for graduates. “A prestigious school education is a prerequisite (or, better yet, a perquisite) for a future of privilege. Elite schooling is seen as a means of buying not only educational advantage but class power” (Prosser, 2016, p. 225). The Kingston Man framework is an explicit statement of the values the elite institution will impart on alumnus, an aspect of elite education that Prosser (2016) believes contributes to the justification of the investment of elite schooling. There are posters around the school which visually represent the Kingston Man Framework, and these are commonly used in lesson activities in PDHPE.

The students themselves were aware of this cost-benefit equation and it was a common theme in conversations around school choice and families. During another PDHPE lesson, the students were to re-write an old song called, ‘Real Man’. They were asked to change the words of the song to reflect contemporary masculine expectations of men in a particular subset of society. My group, filled with keen rowers, decided to develop lyrics to describe the masculine experience of rowers. As we did this, we chatted about the future plans for one group member, Brett. Brett revealed his plans to leave school at the end of Year 10. His plan was to start an apprenticeship and become a carpenter before he eventually took over the family building business. Although this seemed like

118

a reasonable plan to me, the boys teased Brett. They questioned why he would “waste his education” and if he really wanted to give up his future potential for an apprenticeship. Brett’s friends evidenced their commitment to the elite imaginary. They suggested his decision to leave school and become a tradesman was a waste of the investment made in his education. This proposes that the elite imaginary must be sustained through the completion of an elite education and progression into an elite future via an elite university. Brett’s future vision deviated from the elite imaginary, from a Kingston businessman. There was a sense that this was a process of becoming; that anyone could achieve wealth and success in Australia (Gilding, 2004; Pease, 2010) if they worked hard enough and took advantage of the opportunities given to them.

Pease (2010) argues that class privilege becomes internalised and is a way of asserting dominance over others. Kingston Men envisaged themselves as future leaders and as businessmen and their access to this privilege and power, they felt, was earned through their family’s commitment to education (to sending their children to the ‘best schools’) and their hard work at school.

The Kingston gentleman

Messages of what is was to be ‘The Kingston Man’ were also tied up in meanings of being a ‘good’ man and a gentleman. The project of elite schooling at Kingston was to grow boys into men; but as Brett’s experience suggests the elite imaginary is not a tradesman, it is a businessman and a gentleman. There is a long tradition of making gentlemen in elite schools; a gentleman by definition is a chivalrous, courteous or honourable man. This understanding of masculinity is inextricably bound to notions of

119

gentry and gentility, words which originate from gentil or gentle; meaning of noble birth. Thus, being a gentleman is not only about politeness and manners, but about the noble characteristics attributed to men of good social position. I use this category of gentleman here, firstly as it was a title used by teachers to address students at the school in everyday interactions. The concept of a ‘gentleman’ has strong links to the colonial notion of gentlemanliness but was also modernised by the school. For example, expressions of colonial gentlemanliness such as self-control and the ‘stiff upper lip’ were, at times, challenged and replaced with ‘modern’ gentlemanly values which Kevin explains below. Students and staff at Kingston seemed to use the terms ‘gentleman’ and

‘good man’ interchangeably; suggesting a good man would have the attributes of a gentleman, attributes that Kevin clearly outlined, below. In research conversations, many students expressed their belief the school was just putting a ‘Kingston label’ on general attributes that all ‘gentlemen’ should possess. They equated the qualities of

‘The Kingston Man’, to being a good man. Kevin explained:

They [Kingston] talk about like caring for others, not mistreating others,

having good sportsmanship, having humility, having gratitude, all those

things – stuff that you’d associate with being a good man, I think that’s

what they’re trying to achieve.

Some PDHPE lessons on masculinity focused on making the distinction between society’s expectations of a ‘good man’ and what being a good man really means.

Michael Kimmel refers to this disparity between what he calls a ‘good man’ and a ‘real man’. When asking men and boys about what it means to be a good man he says they

120

typically list the following: “Integrity, honour, being responsible, being a good provider, protector, doing the right thing, putting others first, sacrifice, caring, and standing up for the little guy” (Kimmel, 2018). However, when he asks them to “man up, be a real man” and what qualities are being referred to in these instances, they give completely different responses. This is what they say: “never cry, be strong, don’t show your feeling, play through pain, suck it up, power, aggression, win at all costs, be aggressive, get rich, get laid” (Kimmel, 2018).

In PDHPE lessons students discussed the stereotypes of masculinity in society (being a

‘real man’) and compared these to the qualities of being a good man. When asked what attributes society deems to be important for being a good man, Mr Clarke’s class listed:

“in-charge, sexual touch, heterosexual, strong, dominant, financial provider, not emotional- don’t cry, and be a gentleman- chivalrous”. Both Mr West and Mr Clarke used this activity to demonstrate how these expectations can ‘put men in a box’. In two lessons on masculinity, the teachers discussed these expectations of men, the negative effects these expectations might have and then offered an alternative view of ‘good’ men – ‘The Kingston Man’. This suggests that ‘good’ men leaving the school should possess the following values or characteristics: “enjoyment, unity, growth, resilience, hard work, and success”.

While not clearly making the distinction, like Kimmel (2018), between a ‘good man’ and ‘real man’, this way of thinking about manhood makes a distinction between

‘society’s man’ and ‘The Kingston Man’. A separation between what society generally values and the values upheld by ‘The Kingston Man’ affirms the elite imaginary,

121

suggesting that graduates of Kingston will be developed into particular types of men, who differ from the social norm. When reflecting on PDHPE lessons about masculinity, several students related their learning experiences to better understanding or affirming their views on how to treat women. Their responses suggested the purpose of the unit on masculinity was to ensure they grew into men who treated women with respect.

Kevin, Troy, Chad, and I sat talking in a room we had booked in the library. I propped a foot up on a chair and leaned back casually. I was not surprised that these students had asked to be a part of research conversations, they were diligent and interested.

Interested about anything really; football mostly, and a good debate. We started talking about what they studied in PDHPE in term one, the “stuff about masculinity”. I asked them, “do you feel like that changed you?”. Kevin was quick to reply:

I’ve always respected women. I’ve never like taken them for granted.

I’ve always like, equal value. I’ve never been like one of those other

boys that are like – an example, this girl is drunk, I’m gunna – or – I

don’t know… but just in general like boys being better than girls… I

don’t remember too much on the topic but I’ve always respected [girls]

– it really hasn’t changed me.

For Kevin, learning about masculinity was about learning to respect women; to be a good man was to be a respectful man. Kevin said he learned to respect women from his mother. When he was in preschool, he remembers hitting a girl in a fight and getting in big trouble for it. Now that he is in high school, he still really tries to show women

122

respect. Even when he sees his friends talking to a girl in a disrespectful way, he will confront them and tell them to stop. But sometimes he gets teased for doing this by his peers. Kevin, Troy and Chad were critical of the idea of a ‘good man’, and Troy argued that being a ‘good man’ is the same thing as being a good human being: “I think what defines a man should be the same as what defines a human… I don’t think there are a lot of traits that are unique to men”. Kevin agreed that ideologically this is the case, but in practice, society expects different things of men than women: “I completely agree.

But it’s planet earth, it’s not how it works… I’m just saying because [of] where we live and what happens now, men are in charge of women”. The lively debate between these students demonstrates the tensions they see between society’s expectations of men, being a ‘good man’ and their ideological belief that being a ‘good man’ equates to being a good human. Their concept of being a ‘good man’ is about how they, as men, relate to women.

As demonstrated above, Troy was critical of gendered expectations that vary for men and women. He believed these don’t exist in society; in a way his own gender was invisible to him because of his privilege. As Kimmel (1990) notably argues, privilege is invisible to those who have it. As a white, middle class, young man, Troy’s belief that men and women are equal and are/should be treated as human beings was reflective of his inability to see the ways in which gender shapes an individual’s existence.

When reflecting on the transcript from the research conversation several months later,

Kevin expressed a growing visibility of women’s lack of privilege:

123

I have now currently been with my girlfriend for one year, she has

opened my perspective for the greater. I am able to place myself in a 17-

year-old female’s shoes. I feel what she feels, to an extent. I love her, I

really do, I get upset and hurt if a guy makes a comment at a girl. My

perspective has altered, I’m appalled with our society’s (and my age

group’s) treatment of women.

The issue of gender inequality was common discourse during my fieldwork at Kingston.

This was reflective of an increasing public engagement with gender issues and particularly with gendered violence at the time. Each year Kingston elect student leaders who are in their final year of school. These leaders develop a motto to guide their leadership focus for the year. The year I was at Kingston the motto was, Value

You, Support Him, Stand with Her. Considering how the students could Stand with Her became the focus of numerous assemblies and the school engaged in White Ribbon

Day17 and had several notable speakers attend the school to discuss gender equality.

In PDHPE lessons, discussions about how to be a ‘good man’ attempted to challenge stereotypes of masculinity and promote gender equality. In one lesson, Mr Clarke proposed a return to values that characterise gentlemanliness and chivalry (referring to the courtly way that men in the past have been expected to treat women). To promote

17 White Ribbon Day is “Australia’s national day for raising awareness of men’s violence against women, and how to prevent it in your community” (White Ribbon Australia, 2019, para 1).

124

chivalry amongst students, they were given the challenge of filling out a chivalry card

(like a coffee card). Each time they performed an act of chivalry, the woman involved would sign the card, and when they performed enough chivalrous acts, they would get a reward. YouTube videos showed in class depicted women struggling to carry groceries and change car tyres with the problem represented to be a lack of chivalry.

There was a call to chivalry, for a return to a ‘historical masculinity’ characterised by honour, courtesy, and humility. Being chivalrous was presented as a method in which the students could “stand with her”, to serve and honour women through acts of politeness and gentlemanliness.

Chivalry was once a more common expectation of the men’s behaviour towards women. However, after the women’s liberation movement of the 1960s, feminists dismissed chivalry as sexist. Peter Glick and Susan Fiske (1996; 2011) developed this concept, suggesting chivalrous behaviour is benevolent because it flatters women and leads to their preferential treatment, but sexist because it relies on the gendered principle that women are weak and need protection while men are strong and able to protect.

They termed this theory, ‘benevolent sexism’ and suggested chivalry is an ideology that perpetuates gender inequality. The problem with chivalry is that is assumes women are warm and wonderful, but weak (Connelly & Heesacker, 2012).

However, there are groups of men and women who believe that a return to chivalry and gentlemanly behaviour would improve men’s treatment of women. For example, The

Network of Enlightened Women in the United States, hosts yearly chivalry awards called the Gentleman’s Showcase. Kingston’s focus on improving men’s treatment of

125

women and “standing with her” resulted in a return to ideologies of chivalry and gentlemanliness. Although they may have had good intentions for this, from the teachers’ and students’ position of male privilege, their positioning of themselves as the protectors of women continues to situate women as weak and perpetuate gender inequality.

Students also demonstrated their criticality and reflectiveness of the ideology of becoming a ‘good man’ and being gentlemanly. James and David believed learning about masculinity in PDHPE helped them to better understand that being a gentleman is not just about performing chivalrous acts:

Basically they [PDHPE lessons] help you understand further because

it’s easy to say ‘yeah I want to be a Kingston Man’; I treat women fairly;

I do chores at home and stuff like that. But actually going out in the real

world and doing things like that; accepting people for who they are I

think is much greater than just casual stuff at home to prove that you’re

a gentleman.

David suggested that being ‘The Kingston Man’ is about being a ‘good’ man and accepting people for who they are. Similarly, Chad also expressed this notion that being a ‘good man’ is about being accepting of others and treating everyone equally. He believed that the focus on gender equality at the school should also consider how men treat other men. For him, being a ‘good man’ is about seeing everyone as equal, and not just about seeing women as equal to men.

126

I think it’s important to worry more about how you treat people in

general rather than- just even focus on how you treat women because

that’s how everyone sort- sort of the big topic at the school and

everything is about men treating women correctly, which is absolutely

right. But I think it’s also important to see how men treat other men as

well. So, I think when you- like a lot of men and teenage males get

ridiculed for let’s say standing up for a girl or anything like that; sort of

doing something that’s seen as less than a man or something like that.

It’s important for a man, what defines him is to be able to see everyone’s

equal and to be able to treat everyone the same.

Students learned that to be a ‘good man’ is to be ‘The Kingston Man’; to be gentlemanly and chivalrous with gender equality as the end goal. The notions of gentlemanliness and chivalry, a return to ‘historical masculinity’ where women were treasured and cared for may have been well intentioned but still demonstrated a classed and privileged masculinity where men are positioned as protectors of their weaker gender. Some student’s responses to their experience of learning about masculinity in PDHPE evidenced a lack of visibility of their own privilege. They saw the world as equal, with expectations for being a ‘good man’ the same as what we would expect for any ‘good human’. Kevin’s close relationship with a young woman his age, had unmasked his own privilege as he began to see more clearly the inequality that women face in their everyday lives. This was a significant experience for him which altered his views about the need for masculinity education and for significant change to occur in the way young women are treated by their male peers. Others felt that the school’s focus of Stand with

127

Her should be reconceptualised to address equality more broadly. They felt that men’s mistreatment of one another perpetuated inequality both between men and between men and women.

The Kingston sportsman

Sport has long been valued in the elite independent schools of Australia, like Kingston.

Sport is a core aspect of their identity as GPS schools and this identity distinguishes

GPS schools from government and other independent schools, perceived as socially inferior (Light & Kirk, 2000). The concept of becoming ‘The Kingston Man’ represents the school’s shift away from valuing sport above all else. The Principal described the school’s attempts to move away from the ‘traditional’ elevation of sporting success in elite schools:

They [students] would see us promoting a good man around all the

virtues and attributes of being a good man and not external things like

sporting success or toughness or muscles…So to be a good man, you

don’t have to be in a Firsts team or you don’t have to play Rugby…

For the Principal being ‘The Kingston Man’ was not about sporting success, it was about character and values; about being a good man. This was reflected in the schools marketing of itself, in the way sport was discussed in assemblies, in the formal policies around sport, and in school advertising. Kingston’s everyday practices and policies reflected a conflicted curriculum of manhood. Although the official curriculum portrayed a values-based, flexible masculinity centred on enjoyment, unity, growth, 128

resilience, hard work and success, students suggested school practices and policies undermined this message. Connell (2008) articulates gender regimes of school are diverse even within one school community:

There are often some parts of a school’s life where gender is strongly

marked, and other parts where gender is very muted. This is important

for understanding the school’s role in the construction of masculinities.

(p. 137)

In research conversations, students talked about areas of school life where gender was strongly marked. It was in these areas students felt they learned what expression of masculinity was most valued at and by the school. Martino and Pallotta-Chiarolli’s

(2003) research demonstrates high school boys’ capacity for self-problematisation of masculinities and their interest in having critical conversations about gender. Similarly, in this study many of the boys who participated were willing to interrogate the impact of normative masculinity on their lives at school. They highlighted areas of school life they believed particularly salient in the construction of a curriculum of manhood; in their understanding of what it means to be ‘The Kingston Man’.

On my third day of fieldwork I attended my first school assembly. Along with the other students, I filed into the large hall where the boys quickly made their way to predetermined zones to sit. The assembly started with a performance from the very professional school band, followed by a polished speech from the school captain. He spoke about respecting yourself and others, an aspect of this year’s school motto, and

129

about finding their skills and harnessing them for the good of themselves and others.

After his speech, 16 baggy white hats were ceremoniously presented to the newest members of the First Sixteen. I later discovered the First Sixteen were a senior leadership team given the role of inciting school spirit at sporting events. Next, an introduction to the importance of swimming captains before this year’s two captains were announced and cheered.

The routine glorification of sportsmen and sports-based rituals (chanting, songs, send- offs) was commonplace at Kingston. William reflected on the regularity of whole- school sporting praise in assembly and how the acknowledgement of achievement in other co-curricular areas differs:

At every assembly, there's always the- like if athletics is on the weekend

you have an athletics thing and everyone stands up and you walk

through the aisles. It's all fun and games when you're doing it and

clapping with everyone. So that's the same for athletics, rowing,

swimming and that's what they do. But you don't see it with the debating

team walking down the aisles or anything.

Students explained in several conversations how the praise awarded to sportspeople in assembly far outweighed any recognition of the arts or academic achievement. To them, this clearly showed the preeminent standing of sporting pursuits at the school. When discussing these tensions James said, "they do a massive video assembly on it (rowing)

...why aren't we having a big inspirational video and assembly before our brighter

130

students sit down for their IB18 exams?” In his view, if the school felt it necessary to motivate students to do their best at sporting events, they should do the same for major academic events.

School rituals, such as assembly, are symbolic, bodily performances that affirm and reaffirm marginalised and praised groups, the normal and the abnormal, and reproduce dominant understandings of race, class, and gender within a culture (Light, 2000;

Pascoe, 2006; Quantz, 1999). The school assembly provides the forum for the delivery of the school narrative, “the material fabric of which school ‘ethos’ is woven and the very sites where official versions of ideal and successful students are represented”

(Luke, 1995, p. 34). James’ questioning of the school practice of assembly reflected his interrogation of the official curriculum; he saw incongruity between what the school says they value and what he saw take place in everyday school life. The students indicated the narrative presented in assembly favoured normative versions of masculinity, that is, boys who are dominant and successful in sport and have muscular sporting bodies.

Assemblies took place once a fortnight and the whole senior school gathered together for 20-30 minutes. The content of assembly varied, some weeks a successful ‘Old

Kingstonian’ would return to give their words of wisdom, others involved an address

18 The IB is the abbreviation for the International Baccalaureate. At Kingston, some students sit IB exams as part of matriculation requirements.

131

from a student leader, or a short talk from a visitor usually around themes of wellbeing and achievement. Most assemblies would involve a presentation of awards or recognition of recent student achievement. From conversations, it was clear students felt greater recognition was given to sporting achievement than any other domain. In interviews with high school boys about masculinity, Martino and Pallotta-Chiarolli

(2003) found a similar theme. They suggest, “assemblies were seen to be the domain of those boys who excelled in dominant masculinist capacities” (p. 230). Similarly, in their research, “several students pointed out the contradiction between the school rhetoric of inclusivity, and the provision of diverse opportunities for student participation and recognition, and the dearth of these opportunities in reality” (p. 230).

Francis and Tyrone both come from families they described as having a strong sporting focus. They are very successful young sportsmen well regarded in the school for their success in athletics, rugby, and rowing. In a conversation they talked about the focus on sport at school, particularly in assembly.

it’s [school’s] more focused, even assembly today it’s all about sport. I

didn’t think one thing about that. And it’s all about the “Kingston Man”.

Everyone says it’s like a diverse culture and stuff but…I know the

teachers like say ‘oh we’re more all round[er] and stuff’, but like the

132

kids, they’ve got like their Kingston Rumble19 like they do that if a really

good sports thing was won.

Francis and Tyrone were critical of claims that school had an equal all-rounder focus, instead they believe the usual focus in assembly on sport, reflected the school’s overall values. The official curriculum at Kingston says that “difference is promoted” and as a school community they are “multilayered (hence all activities are of equal value and recognition)” (Kingston College, 2017, para 3). However, the unofficial/hidden curriculum reinforced hegemonic masculinity, praising the successful athletes of the most dominant sports. Although the school rhetoric proposed a vision of inclusivity and equality of all boys and all talents, the ritual chanting, awards, and narrative of school assembly sent a message that sportsmen are the most valuable men at Kingston.

Participation in sport is compulsory, usually involving two training sessions after school and a Saturday game each week. In my first meeting with the Principal, he told a story of the culture of sport at Kingston. The year before, in a high stakes Rugby game the Kingston team scored a last-minute winning try. School students and Old Boys poured onto the field cheering for their team. The next day the Principal said he had to address their behaviour in assembly. The Principal believed they had exhibited a single- minded drive to win and were not respectful to their opposition. The Principal believed

19 The Kingston Rumble is the name for the rumbling noise boys make with their feet; it is a celebratory tradition at the school and made during events like the ‘rowers send-off’.

133

the overall sporting culture at the school and participation in the GPS was extremely positive for most students, with ‘issues’ only arising with the top teams.

The area where it gets pointy is really just the top teams... for 90% of

the 12,000 boys [in the GPS] they’re just having a great game of sport…

But where it gets distorted is in the top end and for some people it

becomes bigger than Ben-Hur; and that’s where you’ve got to try to keep

it in proportion. We like success but it’s more important the processes

are right, the culture’s right.

The Principal suggested the values education embedded in sport took primacy over achieving success at Kingston. He referred to the way ‘The Kingston Man’ values were learned through sport, by developing character, resilience, and unity. Sport was positioned as a means through which students would learn the values and qualities of

‘The Kingston Man’, positioning them for success later in life. Participation in sports at Kingston is a form of apprenticeship for a successful life, or as Riesman put it, “The road to the board room leads through the locker room” (as cited in Kohn, 1992, p. 85).

‘The Kingston Man’ can be developed in and through sport. Through healthy, respectful competition in sport students develop the required key skills, positioning them for success in the business world after school. As Kohn (1992) argues, “sport does not simply build character… it builds exactly the kind of character that is most useful for the social system” (p. 85). Competitiveness and rivalry are accepted as ‘natural’ in

Western society. Through sport, athletes learn that comradery and cooperation is required only as a means to victory; and aggression and authoritarianism are acceptable.

134

Sport at Kingston teaches students to become competitive players in the game of pursuing excellence.

Discourse surrounding sport focused on students’ pursuit of a personal best. Fitness testing was conducted twice yearly in years 7-10 PDHPE for 3-4 weeks at the start and finish of the school year. Mr Davis, a PDHPE staff member, told me they do it because the boys love it. “They’re boys you know, so they’re competitive and they all do compulsory sport so it’s relevant for them… they want to know what their strengths and weaknesses are and how they can improve”. Mr Davis suggested that compulsory sport and fitness testing in PDHPE was enjoyable for students because of their inherent masculine competitiveness. Students were trained;

to identify and improve their weaknesses and pursue their personal best

in the sporting context. This emphasis on individual effort and self-

improvement in sport is reflected through the valuing of fitness testing;

the concept that success is achieved through individual effort and merit

has a powerful grip on the collective imagination at Kingston.

It was my first PE lesson at Kingston. I was hoping to participate in these lessons, but the teachers advised me the next few weeks would be fitness testing. Today, students changed, the roll was marked, and they were prepared for the 12-minute Cooper’s test.

In this test, they had to run as many laps around the oval as possible in 12 minutes. Mr

Clarke reminded the students that they were just trying to achieve their own personal best and not competing with each other. Tyrone quickly approached Mr Clarke,

135

explaining that he wouldn’t be able to participate in the test today. He said that his rowing training session had been so intense that his legs were too sore to run. Mr Clarke was not impressed. He told Tyrone he obviously had some problems with his recovery time and strategies if that was the case and he needed to toughen up. As the class walked out to the oval, I walked beside Tyrone and asked him why he wasn’t going to run.

Again, he said his legs were too sore. I suggested maybe it would be good to do the run so that he could warm up his muscles and release lactic acid. He looked worried and quietly said to me, “Yes, but the thing is that I would usually do really well at this test, and I know I won’t be able to do well if I run it with sore legs”.

Tyrone was fearful of not achieving a personal best on the fitness test, so instead chose not to participate. Because of his focus on self-improvement, being tested when he wasn’t in his best physical shape would have resulted in personal failure. Adam said they start to think about how to improve themselves and their bodies when they become teenagers. Being your best, physically and for sporting pursuits is part of becoming

‘The Kingston Man’. Adam and Tyrone talked about the competitive self-improvement culture in sport at Kingston;

boys that are teenagers would know about it – they’d start going to gym

and start trying to fix themselves up if that’s what you want to call it.

Trying to improve themselves for the future I guess or for any sporting

reason or anything to get healthier…

136

To them, this was a natural part of becoming ‘The Kingston Man’. The competition between students within sports was clear at Kingston, but students also spoke about the hierarchy of sporting codes. Several students suggested that the most masculine sports were most praised by the school, demonstrating to them, that to be ‘The Kingston Man’ is to be a Rugby player or rower. David said, “there's sort of a pecking order in terms of who is sort of valued... the school puts emphasis on Firsts Rugby”. Stefan suggested that the more masculine the sport, the more there is a requirement that the whole school community attends the games and celebrates successes. He said, "only the really masculine sports deserve the eyes of the school".

Students felt there was a disconnect between how ‘The Kingston Man’ was represented in and by sport and how ‘The Kingston Man’ was conceived in other parts of school life. They came to understand ‘The Kingston Man’ to represent a version of masculinity they believed the school most valued, the muscular sportsman. Stefan suggested, “I think they want us to walk out the Kingston Man and be like buff and all that”. Although the framework lists virtues, and not bodies, to Stefan, ‘The Kingston Man’ is exhibited through a body. James eloquently explained the tensions he saw between the glorification of sport, particularly Rugby, at Kingston and the curriculum of ‘The

Kingston Man’:

There’s two Kingston Men...a difference of opinion between teachers

maybe in different parts of the school; different teachers who value sport

over respect, maybe other teachers feeling that the respect needs to be

137

taught in schools and they don’t really see the fuss in Rugby, apart from

sport.

Sport was significant to the identity of the school and to many of the students who participated in the research. For them, sport was intimately connected to their understanding of masculinity and manhood and integral to ‘The Kingston Man’. They felt that the school’s practices, particularly in assemblies and compulsory sport event attendance, made clear statements about what sports and what forms of masculinity were most valued. Being a Kingston sportsman, demonstrating success, competitiveness, and the pursuit of self-improvement through sport was deeply embedded in their understandings of becoming ‘The Kingston Man’.

Teaching ‘The Kingston Man’

When asked to describe himself, Calvin called himself a swimmer. He explained his busy training schedule, which left little time to complete homework or assignments for school. In PDHPE class, Calvin stood out, generally because of his disregard for the teacher’s instructions or expectations and his jocular nature that he liked to share with the entire class. He often found himself in trouble with teachers and the school authorities. When discussing what he had learned about masculinity in PDHPE and what he thought about ‘The Kingston Man’, Calvin and his friend, Klein, suggested they don’t really ‘buy into’ the whole idea. They equated ‘The Kingston Man’ with

“sucking up to the teacher” and “being extremely respectful and stuff”. Although Klein said he was often respectful, there has to be a point where this ends. They were only

138

willing to respect their teachers if the respect was also afforded to them. Klein said,

“There’s a point where it sort of ends… because the teacher is being disrespectful to me. I’m not going to cop it.” Students like Klein and Calvin often found themselves in trouble in the school context, because of their unwillingness to accept authority. As

Apple (2004) argues, “educational institutions provide one of the major mechanisms through which power is maintained and challenged” (p. vii). The hidden curriculum at play teaches students to accept authority, without question (Apple, 2004).

At Kingston, students were expected to aspire to be ‘The Kingston Man’, to display the masculine virtues valued by the school. In conversations it became clear that students were aware and sometimes critical of the power teachers held over them. Bourdieu argued that teachers possess what he refers to as ‘pedagogic authority’, which contributes to ongoing power relations in the school institution. Teachers embody their authority by carrying it in their "person", inside their bodies (Pierre Bourdieu &

Passeron, 1990). “In doing so, they reinforce their power and status over students and ensure the ongoing and assumed nature of this power relationship in schools”

(Fitzpatrick, 2010, p. 196). Klein and Calvin noted particular PDHPE teachers who were ‘strict’ and asserted their authority and dominance over students. These were the teachers they particularly disliked because, in their opinion, they demanded (instead of earned) respect and expected adherence to schooling norms such as submitting homework and assignments on time without lenience. These students challenged the power and authority teachers possessed over them, often resulting in punishment.

139

PDHPE teachers teach about physical activity, the body and health and, as Richard

Tinning claims, “in doing so it is not only the pedagogical activities they create that do pedagogical work” (2014, p. 210). The PDHPE teacher’s corporeal self carries with it special pedagogic power and with it the assumption that the teacher should be a role model for health. When discussing their learning in PDHPE classes, James and David talked particularly about the power that the PDHPE teachers had within the school:

Well they’re a very confident bunch. It's their sort of home down there,

the sporting teachers they're the real alpha male. One of the things being

a PE teacher is one of those more alpha male positions in a school... I

think a lot of members in that department take a certain pride at being

that teacher, being in that position of the holy grail of PE teacher. But

it’s pretty interesting. They’ve got their little home down there and

they’re quite confident in where they stand in school I would say.

The students noted the perceived social standing of the PDHPE teachers amongst the staff and within the schooling structures. Their reference to the position of PDHPE teacher as the ‘alpha male’ within the school explicated the gendered nature of the teacher’s identity and the content area of PDHPE. They noted the embodied dominant or hegemonic masculinity of the teachers from this department.

140

Gentrification – From Boys to Kingston Men

The curriculum of manhood at Kingston was, ultimately, tasked with the project of making boys into men. Another way Kingston engaged in masculinity-making was through the co-curricular activity of Cadets20. During my fieldwork at Kingston, I observed a significant day in the Cadets calendar, Anzac21 parade. On parade day, like each Friday, Cadets wore camouflage (instead of their usual school uniform) from head to toe, with their pants tucked into sturdy boots and their khaki hats in hand. The Anzac parade is an annual event to commemorate the fallen military servicemen of Kingston

College. The parade is a significant event for the Kingston Cadets; students in Year 9-

12 who participate in the Australian Army youth program. Cadets take part in a variety of outdoor experiences from abseiling to archery, bush navigation, and camp craft.

Leadership courses are embedded in each year level of the program and successful completion of these results in promotion to a higher rank. Senior, high rank, students and teachers lead the younger Cadets in training and challenges each fortnight and at yearly camps. At Kingston it is compulsory for students to be involved in an outdoor education program in Year 9 and 10. They choose between Cadets and an alternative

20 Cadets is an Australian Army youth development program.

21 Anzac Day is a national day of remembrance which commemorates Australians and New Zealanders who served and died in war.

141

outdoor education program, Kingston Challenge, which is devoid of a military context.

However, the majority of students choose to take part in the Cadets program.

At midmorning, I took a seat along Jackson Oval with crowds of parents and other students as the Cadet unit marched onto the oval for the official Anzac Day ceremony.

The presenter of the ceremony, I was told by a staff member, was the most well-known

Anzac ceremony presenter. He explained the roots and traditions of Kingston College that are embedded in the British history of the school’s founders. Hundreds of boys marched onto the field as commanded, with stern blank faces, maintaining a completely still body for the entirety of the long ceremony. Rows and rows of boys in camouflage stood silently, filling the large oval as the many rituals of the ceremony took place. As the boys stood at attention, I started to notice some slowly drop to their knees. When this happened, their cadet leader would come and collect them and walk them off the field to the growing group of boys sitting in the shade recovering with the nurse. As the sun beamed down and the boys continued to stand dead still, they kept fainting. The ceremony continued, undisrupted, with the laying of wreaths, poetic readings, sounding of the last post and moment of silence. Crosses were laid along one side of Jackson

Oval to commemorate the students of Kingston who had lost their lives in war. As I watched I was overwhelmed with the professionalism of the simulation: the boys were a sea of adult soldiers as they stood at attention and marched in perfect synchrony.

As I walked back to the staff room another PDHPE teacher asked me if I liked the ceremony. I told him, “yes, it was very impressive”. He was pleased and explained,

142

“that’s what I was saying to my mentor22 boys. I was like, boys, you just don’t get experiences and opportunities like this everywhere”. He seemed very proud of Kingston and of the history and rituals that they practice. Throughout the rest of the day, I kept hearing students talking about how many kids fainted. It seems counting how many drop each year is a tradition. Some of the teachers later tell me that one year it was 36.

Militaristic ceremonies and traditions are not uncommon within the elite boys’ schools in Australia. Sherington (1983) traces the histories of elite boys’ schooling in Australia from the British Public School23 traditions. At their inception, there was a strong connection between schooling and the military. The Cadets program described above, is a remaining pillar of militaristic ideology at Kingston. As Hickey and Mooney (2018) suggest, the celebration of male combat (through sport and militaristic practices) in boys’ schools reproduces a culture of hypermasculinity:

22 Mentor groups are small groups of 15-20 students who are organised into groups within their ‘houses’.

All students at Kingston are allocated a ‘house’ when they start at the school. Mentor groups have a teacher-mentor allocated to them and stay the same throughout high school.

23 In England and Wales, a public school is a long-established, fee-paying, selective school. ‘Public’ refers to their origins as schools being open to any public citizen who could afford to pay the fees; they are not funded by public taxes, as in Australia for example. Public schools have a strong association with the upper or ruling classes.

143

Within the context of all-boys schooling, the discourse of

hypermasculinity encapsulates a culture (accepted knowledge and

practice) that outwardly privileges emphasised characteristics of male

behaviour (stoicism, hardness and solidarity). (pp. 240-241)

The military and war are said to be sites where hypermasculinity is reproduced and maintained; where the ideology of masculinity as the warrior is upheld (Agostino,

2003). Morgan suggests that of all the sites where masculinities are constructed, those associated with the military are some of the most direct:

Despite far-reaching political, social, and technological changes, the

warrior still seems to be a key symbol of masculinity… Traditionally,

then, combat and military experience separate men from women while

binding men to men. It is a separation which reaches deep into a man’s

sense of identity and self. (Morgan, 1994, pp. 165-166)

Scholarship on both schooling and gender suggests the school is a social arena where the (re)construction of gender occurs. Schools are actively involved in the process of making gender, with boys’ schools acting as a “masculinity-making device” (Connell,

1996, p. 215) .

I suggest this process of making boys into men, through the curriculum of manhood, which includes practices and traditions such as Cadets, can be understood through the lens of gentrification. Gentrification, coined by British sociologist Ruth Glass (1964),

144

literature largely focuses on the practice where an influx of middle-class people displace lower-class workers in urban neighbourhoods. However, the term also refers to the practice of making people (not just neighbourhoods) more refined or polite.

Gentrification is understood as a social practice and so entails processes of gender constitution and class constitution; these processes are inextricably linked. In elite boys’ schools, such as Kingston, boys are refined through engagement in rigorous academic, sporting and co-curricular activities (such as Cadets). The gentrification of boys to men at Kingston was a classed process of making businessmen, gentlemen, and sportsmen; it continued the historical traditions of making the ‘whole man’ in elite schools.

Conclusion

This chapter has explored the hidden and official ways that Kingston constructs, organises, and presents knowledge about masculinity; I call this the curriculum of manhood. I suggest, at Kingston, the curriculum of manhood comprises three key archetypes: the Kingston businessman, gentleman, and sportsman. This is not to say these archetypes operate in isolation to one another, but instead they are constructions of particular images, ideals, and practices that comprise what it means to be ‘The

Kingston Man’. The Kingston businessman provides an avenue for understanding the

‘elite imaginary’ (Prosser, 2016) as it intersects with masculinity. The image of the businessman is closely tied to the envisaged futures of Kingston men. The Kingston gentleman comprises the values of chivalry and honour- of being a ‘good man’.

Gentlemanliness was encouraged as an avenue for gender equality, but also acted to reproduce gender inequality through classed and gendered privilege. The Kingston

145

sportsman attested to the glorification of sport (particularly rugby and rowing) at

Kingston. ‘The Kingston Man’ was inextricably linked to demonstrating success and competitiveness in sport and the muscular body as intrinsic to understandings of masculinity.

This chapter also considered how teachers and institutional practices (such as Cadets) contribute to the curriculum of manhood at Kingston. Teachers, through their embodied pedagogic authority, contribute to power relations in the school institution. In particular, PDHPE teachers at Kingston are equated with being the ‘alpha male’, again reinforcing the notion that success in sport is bound to masculinity. Finally, this chapter explored the enduring militaristic practice of Cadets at Kingston. These practices, in particular, explicate the process of gentrification at Kingston. Through the curriculum of manhood, boys are shaped into men; but this process at Kingston is one of gentrification where boys were made more refined and polite. This is a classed and gendered process of making business, gentlemen, and sportsmen.

146

Chapter Six- There’s More to Being a Man

Mr West introduces the PDHPE unit that students will be studying over the next two months. It is called, There’s More to Being a Man. As he introduces the unit, he asks the boys to be respectful and listen to others, encouraging them to take a moment and consider other opinions before jumping straight to critiquing or challenging them. He says, “The beauty of today’s society is that we are all different, we may have different backgrounds, opinions, experiences… that does not make them wrong, just individual”.

Mr West explains the unit will cover topics such as “attributes of the male, gender stereotypes, domestic violence, objectification of men and women, gender inequality, historical stereotypes, and power in relationships”.

During the class Mr West shows a TED Talk from 2010 by educator and activist, Tony

Porter. Tony Porter describes the concept of the Man Box which refers to the collective socialisation of men according to a socially accepted set of values: “the ingredients of how we define what it means to be a man”. Next, in groups, students make their own

Man Box. I am sitting next to Andre who tells me about aspiring to be a professional basketballer in the USA. Dan, sitting across the table, is about to get his learner driver’s licence and is showing the group pictures of the Audi S3 he is planning to buy as his first car. A student from another table asks repeatedly to his friend, “how is Bronte?”, the others laugh. Bronte seems to be a girl he is dating or interested in. Eventually, my

147

group produce a set of qualities which they write on post-it notes and stick on their Man

Box. The qualities they identify as being masculine are:

heterosexual

more powerful than women

athletes

rowing

dominant

strong

provider

ripped24

workers

rugby

leader

protection

gym

non-emotional, and

sexually active

This was not the only time the boys were asked to produce categorical descriptors of masculinity and sexuality. In Mr Clarke’s class a couple months later, they explored

24 Being ‘ripped’ refers to being very muscular with low body fat.

148

judgements made about boys and girls according to their gender as part of a unit called

New Sexuality. The students categorised statements into those that characterise “girls”,

“boys”, and “both”. After placing the statements in a category, the class then discussed and argued for/against the categorisations. In the “girl” category they selected: they are impatient, they are passionate, they don’t like having sex. Some students clarified,

“boys are the ones who like having sex”. In the “boy” category they selected: they are obsessed with weight, they can wear what they want, they can go out alone, they have a penis, they don’t cry, and they are strong. Some students clarified, “we don’t really care about weight, that’s girls… we care more about muscles and muscle weight”. In the “both” category they selected: “place family ahead of career, place career ahead of family, can cook, they like to dance, they like doing rather than thinking, they enjoy same sex friendship”. A debate broke out centring around the prioritisation of career over family and vice versa, with most agreeing that girls are more likely to place family ahead of career. Other students suggested, the “can cook” category is really more fitting for girls. Some disagreed that boys “like doing rather than thinking”. When considering the statement, “they enjoy same sex friendship” a student shouted out, “that’s gay!”.



The above vignettes are from a series of lessons on masculinity and sexuality at

Kingston College in Mr West’s and Mr Clarke’s classes. They are moments within a well-developed, thoughtful, and often critical PDHPE curriculum at Kingston. Such opportunities to explicitly discuss masculinity and sexuality are often rare in schools

149

(see for example Martino & Pallotta- Chiarolli, 2003). In these lessons the social dimensions and effects of certain attitudes and beliefs about masculinity and sexuality were explicitly discussed. In this chapter, the ways in which gender and sexuality were conceptualised, enacted, and regulated by individuals, groups, and within the school environment and PDHPE classes at Kingston are discussed. It explores how heteronormative assumptions were embedded and produced within discussions and everyday practices at Kingston.

Heteronormativity and Compulsory Heterosexuality at Kingston

As Fitzpatrick noted, “schools are sites of surveillance and regulation on multiple levels, and sexuality is a key concern” (2013, p. 160). Notions of sexuality are often silenced in schools (Fine, 2003). The formal Australian curriculum includes content on relationships and sexuality, and Australian laws and policies prohibit discrimination against students on the basis of gender and sexuality, yet gender and sexuality education is contentious, and the sexualities and gendered experiences of students are subject to scrutiny and regulation. Allen (2007a) argued that despite this formal acknowledgement of sexuality, in sexuality education for example, “schools are heavily invested in a particular sort of student that is ‘ideally’ non-sexual” (p. 222). Further, the dominant discourses of ‘childhood innocence’ and the ‘adult nature’ of sexuality have meant that the discussion of sexuality in education has largely been silenced, until recently (McCormack, 2014).

150

Several studies internationally have provided insight into the complex ways that

‘heteronormativity’ and ‘compulsory heterosexuality’ function in schools (Morris-

Roberts, 2004; Rich, 1980). Heteronormativity refers to the “the universal presumption of heterosexual desire, behaviour and identity” (Hughes, 2006, p. 55) and the

“dominance of sexual practices associated with heterosexuality” (Finkelstein &

Goodwin, 2005, p. 111). Duncan and Owens’ (2011) research recognised the functioning of heteronormativity in schools as an “organising principle in the construction of popularity” (p. 312).

Compulsory heterosexuality is a term coined by Rich (1980), who argued that heterosexuality is enforced as a key mechanism in the subordination of women and maintenance of gender inequality, and the notion has been useful in denaturalising the operation of heterosexual norms in schools and other social institutions. Renold, for example, has usefully applied the concept to examine the impact of heterosexual cultures in primary schools and with teens in her corpus of work on both girls’ and boys’ experiences (Renold, 2000, 2003, 2005, 2006; Renold & Ringrose, 2008).

Similarly, Rawlings suggested “the school is implicated in the lives of students and the ways in which social and cultural messages are produced” through institutional affirmation of compulsory heterosexuality (2017, pp. 51-52). These concepts align with

Connell’s (1995; 2005) theory of hegemonic masculinity which suggests that one particular form of masculinity is most exalted in a culture, while others (including homosexuality) are subordinated. Within a culture where the fear of being perceived as gay is pervasive, which Anderson (2009, 2011) referred to as homohysteria, boys and men establish and re-establish themselves as heterosexual by aligning their gendered

151

behaviours with idealised notions of masculinity. Kimmel (1994) aptly described this as “masculinity as homophobia”.

Research in schools details the ways in which institutions produce and re-affirm heterosexuality through policies, professional development, exclusion of diverse perspectives in curriculum, and use of language (DePalma & Atkinson, 2010; DePalma

& Jennett, 2010; Ferfolja, 2005, 2007; Rawlings, 2017; Røthing, 2008). At Kingston gender and sexualities were explicitly addressed through formal curriculum in PDHPE classes. As demonstrated in the previous chapter, gendered education operated well beyond the formal intended curriculum; this education enculturated boys to be certain types of men through a ‘curriculum of manhood’. Despite the opportunities to explore and debate notions of gender and sexualities, it appeared that the “heterosexual us/homosexual them” (Ferfolja, 2007, p. 160) binary was not disrupted.

Heterosexual Us / Homosexual Them

Tyrone was an impressive athlete well known for his prowess in rugby and rowing at the school. During a research conversation he and Francis talked about growing up in families that place high value on sporting success. This was the first time Tyrone revealed his background in dancing to me. His friend, Francis, was aware of Tyrone’s involvement in dancing and commented several times on how successful Tyrone was as a dancer. Tyrone explained how he got into competitive dancing.

152

I was pushed into gymnastics which helped and then my mum wanted

me to do dancing, just like – just try it out. So, I tried it. Then after one

year we won Nationals and I’m like ‘alright I might continue’. I

continued on and then won Nationals a few more times. It was pretty

fun. Good environment. A lot of girls there.

In several research conversations, discussion moved between notions of masculinity and sexuality almost interchangeably. For the boys, sexuality was inherently connected to masculinity. Tyrone couched his revelation about being a dancer with reference to his interest in girls, thus confirming his heterosexuality and distancing himself from homosexuality. In Martino’s (2000) research with adolescent boys in an Australian co- educational Catholic school, students highlighted the role of normalising practices that specifically designate dancing as a feminised activity. He found that a boy’s participation in dance became the site of policing of masculinities, with dance being considered a sex-inappropriate practice because of its association with the feminine

(Martino, 2000). Although explicit policing by others was not evident in Tyrone’s case, he appeared to be policing himself. The conversation continued with Tyrone reflecting on his friendships, made through dancing, with homosexual boys.

I know so many [homosexuals]. I’m a dancer and there’s like – when I

first started there was like 20 guys and when I finished last year

probably one of the main reasons I finished, I think, it was two guys left

that weren’t [homosexual] and I was kind of getting a bit overwhelmed

but I just left because it was getting a bit intense. It’s fine when you

153

know them and get to know they act fine, they don’t really change much;

just their beliefs and stuff is different to us. It’s not bad. I don’t think

it’s bad, it’s just the way they want to be.

All of Tyrone’s friends from dancing who have ‘come out’ go to a co-educational public school, “Evanston”, in the neighbouring suburb. Only moments earlier in the conversation Tyrone and Francis explained that Kingston is a really multicultural and diverse school. Francis said it might sound a ‘bit cheesy’ but, “there's no one form of masculinity... [at school they] accept everything – diverse culture”. The boys went on to reflect on the impact of the all boys school environment, sporting culture, and ideal of ‘The Kingston Man’ on keeping non-heterosexual boys’ ‘hidden’ at school.

Rachel: So do you think people feel comfortable – is gender as diverse

here as it is at Evanston or whatever?

Tyrone: Well Evanston is co-ed, so it’s like…

Francis: Girls are more tolerant of gays than guys, which I think is a

big help at Evanston, for people to come out.

Tyrone: Evanston’s full of gay guys.

Rachel: Why do you think girls are more tolerant?

154

Tyrone: Because they’re like them I guess, that’s what I thought it was.

They kind of like – they both act feminine – both are the same psyches

Francis: It sounds like weird but

Tyrone: They’re both… the same thing, yeah.

Francis: I kind of just in saying this. But I think there’s a lot more

homosexual people at Evanston, a lot more.

Tyrone: Especially here, I think they’re more forced to like stay hidden

here at this school. Because it’s more focused, even assembly today it’s

all about sport. I didn’t think one thing about that. And it’s all about

‘The Kingston Man’. Everyone says it’s like a diverse culture and stuff,

but it’s driven [by sport].

This exchange is rich evidence of several themes surrounding sexuality that emerged during PDHPE lessons and research conversations. First, Tyrone continually referred to “they” and “them” when talking about boys who are homosexual, thus reinforcing the “heterosexual us/homosexual them” binary (Ferfolja, 2007, p. 160). The boys considered “gay guys” to be more similar to girls than they are to ‘The Kingston Man’.

They considered ‘The Kingston Man’ as heteronormative which excludes sexually diverse boys. Finally, the continual reference to relationships with ‘girls’ acts to confirm or prove heterosexuality. When Tyrone began opening up about his experience

155

as a dancer, he said it was fun, a good environment and “lots of girls”. He made it clear that his participation in dancing was strictly heterosexual because of his interest in the girls he met. As Tyrone discussed his participation in dancing, he and Francis referred several times to his involvement in rugby and rowing:

Definitely, I’ve kind of got different sides of sport. Dancing, then rugby

and rowing. But it’s good because I can tie both into the middle. So I

can use strength from gymnastics and rowing and something and all that

kind of stuff. It’s good.

His success in the sports of rugby and rowing, which were highly regarded as masculine sports at Kingston, also acted to eschew any uncertainty about his masculinity. While

Francis and Tyrone explicitly pointed out their acceptance of different forms of masculinity and of homosexual boys, the institutional affirmation of compulsory heterosexuality and a binarised and hierarchical view of masculinity and sexuality appeared to undo attempts to disrupt this way of thinking. In workshops and discussions with adolescents Migdalek (2015) found that students were supportive of varying expressions of gender embodiment, particularly in dance. They explored concepts of boys moving and dancing in a feminine manner and suggested this should be allowable and considered a positive embodiment for boys, however they were reluctant to practice this movement themselves. Tyrone focuses on the masculine performances of his body when discussing his experiences as a dancer. He refers to strength being a particular skill that was useful for his engagement in other sports not flexibility, for example, which may be considered a more feminine attribute.

156

Institutional Affirmations of Compulsory Heterosexuality

Rather than simply reflecting the dominant gender or sexual ideology of society, schools actively produce notions of gender and sexuality (Allen, 2005; Mac an Ghaill,

1994; Pascoe, 2006) through material environments, policies, practices, curriculum, language and interactions (Ferfolja, 2007). In the research conversations, two groups of students commented on the heteronormative nature of the all boys’ school environment.

Both groups of students who discussed homosexuality during research conversations suggested ‘The Kingston Man’ is heteronormative. Alex said:

I believe that the LGBT25 community in this school has been way

suppressed. Like there has been nothing for them. They can’t openly

express and show themselves in a normal manner at school because

[they are] always suppressed by being the Kingston Man, being the

masculinity, being in the top sports. Being great academics.

Stefan argued that heterosexuality is policed by both peers and ‘the school’.

Because that’s part of the Kingston Man – you have to be straight, you

have to go to formal with a lady, go out and that stuff… I know nobody

that would have the courage to take another guy to formal. Absolutely

25 lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender

157

nobody. And then afterwards the flack and the crap that they'd cop

would be horrendous, absolutely horrendous. So again, it’s this

environment… they’d [the school] prefer that after school when you left

you could do whatever but while you’re here just hush hush.

Stefan suggested that non-heterosexual displays of sexuality, such as “taking another guy to the formal” would be considered unacceptable by the school and also would be policed by other students through bullying. There appeared to be a disconnect between perceptions of what ‘the school’ sanctioned. In HPE, students were encouraged to consider experiences of sexuality and gender diversity, yet this did not impact student’s perception that this diversity would not be considered acceptable within the school culture at Kingston.

In Mac an Ghaill’s (1994) study of schooling and masculinity in the United Kingdom, students described the way that sex and sexuality appeared to be absent in lessons.

Students in his study agreed with research suggesting that “official prescriptions about sex education… operate with an almost uniform commitment to heterosexuality, procreation and ‘traditional’ role relationships between men and women” (Aggleton,

Homans, & Warwick, 1989, p. 42). More recent research on sexuality education in schools suggests that sexuality education often focuses on disease prevention and contraception; positioning sexuality education as a way to address social health problems existing in communities (Allen, 2007b; Rasmussen, 2004; Sanjakdar et al.,

2015; St Leger, 2004). Sexuality education often works to convey a particular system of values, beliefs, and behaviours that silences diversity (Coll et al., 2018; Sanjakdar et

158

al., 2015). However, at Kingston, Mr Clarke had carefully designed lessons to include discussion of diverse sexualities. During one lesson, Mr Clarke explained that the class would be doing an activity to explore how life can be different for same sex attracted

(SSA) and heterosexual people. He introduced the activity:

In this activity we will look at some of the messages we get from TV,

family, friends and how these do or don’t support the relationships

people have. On this worksheet you have 20 questions. Now I will divide

you into two groups. Group 1, imagine you are in a same-sex

relationship and Group 2, imagine you are in a heterosexual

relationship. You are 16 years old and living at home. To each of the

questions you are to respond by writing yes or no next to the question.

Questions included: would your parents or siblings feel okay if you started introducing your partner to their friends as your girlfriend or boyfriend?, could your partner be included in any family gatherings like birthdays and weddings?, can you be fairly confident you won’t get put-down or physically hurt by others because of the relationship you are in?, and would you take your partner to the school formal?.

Students actively participated in this task and during reflection time, students who had been allocated SSA identity expressed they found it difficult to answer some of the questions. Andre said it made him feel uncomfortable and he had never thought about this before. Others suggested they wanted to answer yes to each of the questions, but they found it hard to really put themselves in a SSA person’s shoes. Interestingly as the

159

‘facts’ about same-sex attraction were presented to students, there was no recognition of what this might mean for this class in particular or any sense that students within the class might identify as gay or experience same-sex attraction. Issues of same-sex attraction were approached as issues in broader society, but not clearly issues facing

Kingston. Again, this worked to distance these students, and Kingston, from ‘them’ and reinforce the ‘heterosexual us/homosexual them’ binary.

At Kingston, I observed two units in PDHPE where gender and sexuality were explicitly discussed. This is starkly different from earlier research by Ferfolja (2007) which reported a dearth of gender and sexuality education. This research, also conducted in New South Wales, Australia, found that instances where homophobia or sexuality were discussed in schools were extremely rare and when they were, it was often a once-off. Other instances where lesbian and gay issues were raised in schools related to discussion of HIV/AIDS or reference to non-heterosexuality as an experimental stage that would likely pass (Ferfolja, 2007). In contrast, at Kingston, gender and sexuality education were allocated significant time and inclusion within the

PDHPE curriculum, as opposed to in once-off seminars, which suggested a recognition of the importance of discussing these issues. Although the sexualities unit included discussion of diverse non-heterosexual sexualities, it coincided with material that actually reinscribed compulsory heterosexuality. For example, when discussing safe sexual practices, sexual activity was always assumed to be heterosexual and lessons focused on contraceptive methods. Exploration of safe same-sex sexual practices was not included.

160

During research conversations, several students (and groups) suggested it was the proliferation of and importance placed on sport in the school and the ideology of ‘The

Kingston Man’ that continued to silence gender and sexuality diversity in the school.

They suggested ‘The Kingston Man’ ideology was oppressive for students who are non- heterosexual as “[they are] always suppressed by being the Kingston Man”. Although

‘The Kingston Man’ framework does not refer to sexuality and purports a values-based masculinity that is ethical, respectful and so on, students suggested that sexuality was tied up in this understanding; “that’s part of the Kingston Man – you have to be straight”. Students believe the focus the school placed on making ‘The Kingston Man’ meant that non-heterosexual boys were “forced to stay hidden”. The school’s focus on sport was identified as a key component in these processes.

Tyrone: Especially here, I think they’re [homosexuals] more forced to

like stay hidden here at this school. Because it’s more focused, even

assembly today it’s all about sport. I didn’t think one thing about that.

And it’s all about the Kingston Man. Everyone says it’s like a diverse

culture and stuff, but it’s driven

Francis: I know the teachers like say ‘oh we’re more all-round’ and

stuff, but like the kids, they’ve got their Kingston Rumble, like they do

that if a really good sports thing was won… they wouldn’t do that for an

academic award.

Tyrone: It’s more focused on sport.

161

Rachel: So, you think overall the school values sport

Both: Shit yeah.

This reflects their understanding of sport as a masculine activity, and of homosexuality as in opposition to masculinity. The “sporting culture” of the school makes Kingston a place where non-heterosexual boys would not feel comfortable to express their sexuality. Further, sport plays a significant role in the establishment of social hierarchies. As with Martino’s (1999) research, being skilled in sport was tied to establishing a valourised form of ‘cool’ masculinity.

Some scholars argue that cultural reduction in homophobia has provided greater opportunity for boys and men to express diverse masculinities (see for example

Anderson, 2016; McCormack, 2014). This may suggest that the archetypes of masculinity evident at Kingston, such as the businessman, were not susceptible to heteronormative expressions. Examples of successful gay businessmen, such as Alan

Joyce- CEO of Qantas, suggest conforming to heterosexual masculine ideals may not be essential to success in the business world, however research on gay male entrepreneurial identities has recently detailed the ways that heteronormativity is an entrenched feature in entrepreneurship (Rumens & Ozturk, 2019). Rumens and Ozturk

(2019) found gay male entrepreneurs enwrapped their sexuality in heteronormative tropes of “conservatism, gender conformity, family values and in some instances, misogyny and homophobia” (p. 684). Although examples of successful gay businessmen may make the businessman as a gay man more thinkable to students, gay

162

businessmen’s own performance of heteronormativity within the business world suggests that the Kingston businessman would likely be perceived as a heterosexual businessman and contribute to the affirmation of compulsory heterosexuality at

Kingston.

“Gay Guys are More like Girls”

In the research conversation detailed earlier in this chapter, Tyrone and Francis discussed the absence of ‘gay guys’ at Kingston and they contrasted this is to a public school nearby which was “full of gay guys”. They thought homosexual boys were better suited to co-educational schools because they share more in common with girls than boys. For them, being a homosexual boy meant being more feminine than masculine.

Their understanding of masculinity aligns with Connell’s theory of hegemonic masculinity. According to this theory, homosexual men are positioned at the bottom of a gender hierarchy. “Gayness, in patriarchal ideology, is the repository of whatever is symbolically expelled from hegemonic masculinity… gayness is easily assimilated to femininity” (Connell, 2016, p. 140). Tyrone and Francis saw homosexual boys as positioned at the bottom of the gender hierarchy, with girls, and for this reason girls are more tolerant of gayness. As we continued to talk, the discussion of homosexual boys, dancing, and the school culture seemed to suggest that perhaps the accepting diverse culture is an aspirational ideology at Kingston, but not realised in practice. They insinuated, although they purported to “accept everything”, that there was an intolerance to gayness amongst boys and amongst the school. Kimmel (1994) suggested in a culture where boys and young men need to establish and re-establish themselves

163

as heterosexual, they engage in behaviours that align with idealised notions of masculinity. He aptly described this as “masculinity as homophobia”.

Although a homophobic culture was not overwhelmingly obvious from observations during the fieldwork, in research conversations boys continually referred to the notion that homosexuality would not be accepted at the school. Beneath the language of acceptance, was a hierarchical understanding of masculinities, where gayness was seen as aligning with femininity and a fear of being perceived as gay drove gendered behaviours that aligned with masculine norms. During the unit on sexualities students watched an interview by Ellen DeGeneres with Welsh rugby legend, Gareth Thomas.

Gareth revealed his experience of coming to terms with being gay and his journey of

‘coming out’ and accepting his sexuality. Afterwards, students were asked to respond to several questions about the social perceptions of sexuality and sport. In his responses

Troy reflected, “I think we believe that ‘to be straight is normal’- this is still the majority of people. So, we still see gay people as different or the minority”.

Anderson’s theory of inclusive masculinities is a relatively recent addition to masculinities research that attempts to account for the (suggested) cultural reduction of homohysteria and examples of more positive and diverse expressions of masculinities in schools (Anderson, 2016; McCormack, 2012, 2014). Anderson argues homohysteria is being replaced by a culture of inclusivity, whereby young people are growing up in a society where they no longer fear being culturally homosexualised (McCormack,

2012). Inclusive masculinities theory suggests that, in a cultural environment that is not characterised by homohysteria, masculinities are no longer vertically stratified as

164

Connell (1995) theorised. However, boys’ discussions of sexuality above are examples of what Anderson (2011) referred to as cultural homophobia or homohysteria.

Although the purport to be inclusive and “accept everything”, they also suggest that homosexuality is not visible at Kingston. Their understanding of homosexuality as in opposition to masculinity, and more similar to femininity means that to be homosexual is to be outside of the accepted masculine culture at Kingston.

‘Joking’ and Homophobic Language

During one PDHPE lesson we considered the use of language around issues of sexuality. We began by taking a survey about same sex attraction, which pointed towards an acknowledgement of heteronormative social structures and practices. After a group discussion about the social acceptance of same sex attraction, we talked about the use of language and how it might perpetuate the social perception that being gay is not normal and not accepted. When Mr Clarke questioned the class about their use of the word ‘gay’ as an insult, they mostly agreed that as they had gotten older, they had stopped using the term so often. But they also said that racist, sexist, ableist, and homophobic language was common at Kingston. As a class we then made a pledge to confront people when they use this type of language, Mr Clarke confessed that he would need this reminder too- saying he found it particularly hard to monitor his language on the sporting field when he makes fun of people’s inability.

165

Mr Clarke recognised the significance of language in policing acceptable behaviours and identities in school. As Pellgrini (1992) attested, language contributes to the construction of reality in schools:

language… constitutes a prism through which human knowers organise,

interpret, and give meaning to their experiences. Language marks out

the limits of the possible. It tells us what to think because it is impossible

to think outside language” (p. 43).

Ferfolja (2007), for example, found that language used in schools is often anti- homosexual, and reinforces the “marginalization, invisibility and silence of non- heterosexualities” (p. 158).

As discussed earlier in this chapter, language constituted the heterosexual us / homosexual them binary at Kingston. Stefan suggested that the language used in everyday conversations contributed to the policing of sexuality at Kingston.

But it’s just that this is such a masculine environment and like we use

words like ‘gay/faggot’ and that stuff to like talk about them and like

although we don’t specifically aim it at them, like ‘oh well this guy’s a

pansy/faggot whatever’, but the way we constantly keep using those

words, that means that if people were to come out those words would

have a direction towards them. So that’s probably why it’s a smart idea

not to come out at school.

166

As Stefan described above, homophobic language and teasing is a ‘natural’ part of boys’ conversation at Kingston. Although they suggested their use of this type of language had decreased as they have grown up, less explicit teasing or joking about homosexuality continued to perpetuate what Pascoe (2012) called the ‘fag discourse’.

Researchers have documented the significance of homophobic teasing and attitudes to gendered behaviours, particularly in school settings (see for example, Ferfolja, 2007;

Martino, 1999; Pascoe, 2012; Rawlings, 2017; Stoudt, 2006). Stefan explained that he and Alex were teased for their interest in animae which is considered to be un- masculine.

Ben and I both like animae and stuff; other guys in the year they will say

‘what the F is this, what are you some faggot, who likes this, are you

some girl?’ and there’s nothing wrong with it. There is absolutely

nothing wrong with it. They want to act all tough in front of their bros

and they’re going to go out somewhere and say, ‘oh yeah this guy, he’s

such a gay’ and the C word and all that. Because we like something,

because apparently difference is wrong and masculinity – that’s the way

to get the guys, come on rally behind them.

Pascoe (2012) theorised that homophobic language and joking rituals, as evidenced above, are multilayered and central to contemporary definitions of adolescent masculinity. Her reframing of the discussion as a fag discourse, rather than simply homophobia, attends to the gendered and racialised meanings of this language. The fag is considered to be a position outside of masculinity that also constitutes masculinity,

167

and thus, part of masculinity becomes the daily interactional work of rejecting the threat of being considered a fag (Pascoe, 2012). Pascoe extended on Kimmel’s (1994) concept of masculinity as homophobia, and suggests the epithet of the fag as central to the intersectional deployment of masculinity and sexuality. Homophobic insults, or use of the fag epithet are functional in maintaining a distinct heterosexual identity (Carnaghi,

Maass, & Fasioli, 2011). Although individuals who use this language may not actively consider the sexuality of their target, they position the individual as deviant- “when a boy calls another boy a fag, it means he is not a man but not necessarily that he is a homosexual” (Pascoe, 2012, p. 82).

In PDHPE classes at Kingston, boys were taught about and given opportunities to reflect on their use of homophobic language but were still subject to it. As previously mentioned, in one lesson this was done through the use of a stimulus video clip about a male rugby player who had recently ‘come out’. Troy’s responses to reflective questions after viewing the stimulus were extremely insightful. He clearly outlined the effect of homophobic language as positioning same sex attracted people as ‘other’.

I don’t know whether it’s a conscious decision when people say those

things [homophobic slurs]. I think it’s something they have heard, it’s

part of our language and we don’t necessarily think about it before we

say it. I think the only way to stop this language is to actually see same

sex attracted people as normal, then it wouldn’t be a derogatory thing,

you wouldn’t be different then.

168

Troy’s perception is that the use of this language is still present at Kingston, and as

Pascoe (2012) suggested, this language is not always intended to make a statement about an individual’s sexuality, but always has gendered meanings.

this [homophobic slurs] definitely still exists in the school yard. I don’t

think they mean it, like you’re not straight. They mean it to say, ‘you’re

soft’, ‘you’re a wuss’, ‘you’re not as powerful’. But they definitely use

these terms in a derogatory way, which I think shows what they actually

think about being gay.

William talked about his experience of being labelled as gay for his participation in a particular code of football, the Australian Football League (AFL):

I used to play AFL and the amount of stuff I copped for not being ‘hard

enough’ even though I still played rugby and everything else like

everyone else, I still copped it for being gay because I find AFL- I wasn’t

gay. I just like playing AFL- dad was from Melbourne so… I don’t really

see why coming out to be gay would be such a big issue but in the same

way I think if you ‘came out’ then a lot of those comments, you may well

feel that they are directed to you even though they’re not. It’s just

general slurs.

William’s experience is evidence of the policing of masculine behaviours at Kingston.

His participation in a code of football that was considered to be less masculine than

169

rugby, resulted in him being labelled and teased for being gay. He didn’t perceive this teasing to be directed at boys who are actually homosexual, instead he considered it to be “just general slurs”. Not only did a boy’s choice of sport subject him to these slurs but the sporting context was a site where the fag epithet was deployed. Troy explained,

“I still know a lot of coaches who call people faggots in sport”.

At Kingston, boys used the epithets of gay and fag as a generic insult for incompetence, which was central to their masculine identity. They used gay and fag interchangeably, and in the context of the elite all-boys school, both terms were gender specific. A boy could get called gay or fag for exhibiting any sort of behaviour that was classified as un-masculine: playing AFL, being bad at sport, being ‘soft’, not being powerful, or having an interest in animae.

Girls, Being Bisexual, and Porn

Throughout the PDHPE unit, New Sexuality, Mr Clarke used a question box. He explained to the class that it would be a confidential way for students to ask questions related to sexuality and they would get time to write a question at the end of each lesson.

As he was explaining this, some of the boys sitting near me joked about asking questions about how to ‘come out’. “Sir, how do I tell my girlfriend I am gay”? one shouted out. Mr Clarke ignored the question and moved on with the lesson. Later in the lesson Renald told me that he had noticed lots (maybe even most) of the girls he meets say they are bisexual. He was responding to statistics in class that reported around ten percent of people in Australia experience same sex attraction and he wasn’t sure that

170

he agreed with them, instead he felt like the percentage of girls who are bisexual might be much higher. Renald suggested that maybe the girls were trying to impress him by saying they were bisexual. The group I was sitting with talked for a moment about whether they might be impressed by girls being bisexual. Then I asked them, “do boys think it’s hot for girls to be bisexual?”. They talked around the question to start with, but after a minute or so of discussion they all agreed they would find it attractive for a girl to be bisexual. I wrote this question down to put in the question box at the end of class.

At the end of the lesson we went through some of the class questions and Mr Clarke came across my question and read it to the class, “Do you think it’s attractive for girls to be bisexual?”. The boys laughed and a few asked who had written that question. Mr

Clarke probed further for an answer and most boys agreed that yes, they did find it attractive if girls were sexually involved with other girls. Mr Clarke asked why. The class went quiet and Dan murmured something under his breath. Calvin, who was sitting next to him, encouraged him speak up, “Say it Dan, louder!!”. “Porn”, Dan said,

“we think it’s hot because of porn”. Then Mr Clarke asked if it was the same for boys,

“Is it attractive for boys to be bisexual too?”. This time the response was immediate,

“No!!” Bill shouted out. The boys were all quick to agree that they didn’t think it was attractive for boys to be bisexual. They concluded by agreeing that it is less socially acceptable for men to be same sex attracted than for women.

Pascoe’s ethnographic research at River High interestingly reported a very similar phenomenon. She found that “boys were not equal-opportunity homophobes.” (Pascoe,

171

2012, p. 55). Students explained that homophobic insults applied only to boys at River

High, Pascoe (2012) wrote:

While Jake, a handsome white senior, told me that he didn’t like gay

people, he quickly added, “Lesbians, okay, that’s good.” Similarly,

Cathy, a popular white cheerleader, told me, “Being a lesbian is accepted

because guys think, ‘Oh that’s cool.’” Darnell, after telling me that boys

were warned about becoming faggots, said, “They [guys] are fine with

girls. I think it’s the guy part that they’re like ewwww”. (p. 55)

Thus, both at River High and Kingston College, students suggested that being homosexual or bisexual was a good thing for girls, but quite the opposite for boys. As

Pascoe theorised, acceptance of lesbian or bisexual girls was on account of their place in the “heterosexual male fantasy, not necessarily because of some enlightened approach to same-sex relationships” (2012, p. 56). As Dan pointed out, for the boys at

Kingston, their view of bisexuality as something that was attractive for girls was also centred around their consumption of pornography. A popular trope in heterosexual pornography depicts women engaging in sexual acts for the purpose of male pleasure.

So, as Dan explained, the boys at Kingston viewed same-sex sexual encounters as something that is attractive because of the role of pornography in depicting this as sexually pleasing for heterosexual men.

The boys at Kingston are not unique in making this distinction; adolescent boys in general dislike gay men more than bisexual women or lesbians (Baker & Fishbein,

172

1998; Pascoe, 2012). The fetishizing of sex acts between women, but not men, suggests that there is more at play than the use of the term homophobia might encompass. In particular, it’s the association with being a fag or being gay as something that is the opposite of masculine that is significant at Kingston. This example of girls’ sexuality being discussed at Kingston, suggested that it is not a fear of same sex attraction so much as a fear of being perceived as homosexual that drives the bullying, teasing, and subsequent behaviours that boys engage in to ensure they are perceived as appropriately masculine.

Gender and Sexuality Regimes

This chapter explores how students and teachers engaged in, challenged, and reproduced cultural meanings of gender and sexuality at Kingston. They did this within an elite school context, steeped in tradition; where single-sex schooling was considered the norm and sport was highly valued and respected. Because of that, Kingston’s structuring of gender and sexuality was, as some boys noted, remarkably different from some of the surrounding schools like Evanston.

The concerted attempts some teachers, like Mr Clarke, made to provide opportunities for the boys to think critically and perhaps reimagine gender and sexuality regimes at

Kingston were noteworthy. As with masculinity, opportunities to discuss sexuality are rare in schools, yet the PDHPE teachers were attempting to do things differently by facilitating opportunities for critical reflection on sexuality and gender norms, and boys’ own perceptions and values. I have highlighted some of these activities from

173

PDHPE classes not to analyse the teaching activities, but to consider the effect of these activities. I acknowledge the effort and passion displayed by these teachers, and by Mr

Clarke in particular. Mr Clarke, for example, described himself as a feminist26,

“because how could you be anything else with a wife as incredible as mine?” he told me one day.

Mr Clarke had, over the past few years, developed innovative masculinities and sexualities units at the school because of his personal belief that it is important for boys to be thinking more deeply about who they are and their views and opinions about the world around them. His lessons are always varied, one day boys will be re-writing songs about manhood, the other day categorising and debating gendered stereotypes and the next, writing tweets. In these lessons, the teachers elicit personal responses from the students, including their stereotypes about sexual orientation, such as linking same sex friendship to being gay. In an interview with me at the end of the fieldwork, Mr Clarke summed up the tensions between what is taught in his classes and the broader school culture:

So, there’s planned things on that in terms of masculinity; domestic

violence is part of that discussion; topical issues… and things like that,

that’s a planned process… other than that, I think it’s assimilation. It’s

26 There is debate around whether men can be called feminists or whether the title of ‘profeminist’ or

‘ally’ is more appropriate. See Pease (2010) or Flood (2017) for further discussion.

174

going to the rowing and yelling at the First 16. You’ve seen some of the

things that have happened here; some of that real bravado which only

really exists in independent boys’ schools. I must admit I’ve been in co-

ed. I’ve been in single sex girls’ schools. None of that is a part of that

culture. The culture of that blue and gold bravado being part of

masculinity. I think that’s from the playground to the cafeteria,

everywhere – that’s part of the culture and the behaviour.

Although there were many opportunities to discuss gender and sexuality at Kingston, attempts to instil a more critical and diverse understanding of masculinity and sexuality were ultimately impacted by the broader gender regimes. Boys considered heterosexuality to be the ‘natural’ way of being and spoke of being gay as something that existed outside of the school grounds. They saw Kingston as a place that was less tolerant of homosexuality because it’s a boys-only school with a focus on sport. Indeed, they theorised that the focus placed on being ‘The Kingston Man’ at school acted to reinscribe heteronormativity because of the values they (not necessarily the school) associate with being ‘The Kingston Man’.

The boys understood gender and sexuality as inextricably linked; with gay boys exhibiting feminine qualities. Gayness was seen as aligning more closely with femininity than masculinity and a fear of being perceived as gay drove gendered behaviours. Boys worked to exhibit behaviours that aligned with masculine norms, and behaviours that did not were policed by peers through ‘joking’, teasing and bullying.

Interestingly, the boys were accepting of same sex attraction while at the same time

175

operating to avoid being perceived as gay. But, when same sex attraction, particularly bisexuality, concerned girls they found this to be attractive. In this way, boys were not equal opportunity homophobes. In many ways this distinction typifies both the changing nature of cultural understandings of gender and sexuality and resoluteness with which these regimes are maintained. The boys at Kingston were educated about diverse masculinities and sexualities and prepared for the changing nature of gender relations in the cultural worlds27 they inhabit. Unfortunately, processes of gender relations that acted to reproduce hegemonic masculinity, where sporting prowess, heterosexuality, and separation from the feminine were integral to masculinity, continued to be reinscribed.

Conclusion

This chapter has considered the ways that masculinity and sexuality were conceptualised, enacted, and regulated at Kingston. Firstly, I demonstrated how gender was understood as synonymous with sexuality. In several instances where boys provided descriptions of masculinity, heterosexuality was suggested to be integral to being masculine. Discussions of gender and sexuality were more common at Kingston than the literature suggests is typical in a school. However, the school culture did not evidence inclusive masculinities. Instead, heteronormativity and compulsory

27 In particular they were prepared for power; to take up leadership roles in the business and corporate worlds. See further discussion of this in Chapter Five.

176

heterosexuality functioned to contribute to a school culture where homosexual boys were considered ‘other’ as evidenced through the ‘homosexual us/heterosexual them’ binary.

I then went on to outline ways in which the institution of Kingston College affirmed compulsory heterosexuality; subtly within the domain of the official curriculum of manhood and in broader school practices that the boys felt silenced homosexuality.

Subtle joking and homophobic language acted to regulate acceptable expressions of masculinity and alienate those who fell outside of the ‘man box’. But, boys were not

‘equal opportunity homophobes’; they encouraged diverse sexuality amongst women, but found the same behaviour repulsive amongst boys and men.

Finally, although there were many positive discussions about masculinity and sexuality taking place at Kingston, I found that the deeply embedded school practices (such as the glorification of the sportsman), subtle joking and homophobic language, and the distancing of homosexuality from masculinity acted to create a school culture where masculinities were not inclusive, but necessitated that boys demonstrate the perceived qualities and behaviours of heterosexual masculinity.

177

Chapter Seven- Being Cool at Kingston

There was an air of excitement at Kingston as the boys prepared for the House Singing

Competition. House Singing is an annual tradition where each house28 performs a song to the whole school and judges; at the end of the day one house emerges victorious. The boys filed into the huge gymnasium after lunch, filling the stands and gymnasium floor, the teachers squeezed in between students and lined the edges of the gym. The ceremony commenced with stern behavioural instructions from the Deputy. Then, one by one, houses would take the stage to perform their song. House Captains explained the chosen song and how this related to their House charity, before a senior boy conducted the group.

The boys described House Singing as something that helped to push them out of their comfort zone. During the school year, most house competitions were centred around sport, while House Singing gave the boys who are more musical an opportunity to use their talents. Most houses organised the group so that the smaller, younger boys were

28 All students at Kingston are organised into ‘houses’. Houses are designed to provide students with a smaller network of peers and mentors within the school. Houses are structured ‘vertically’; so older boys act as leaders for younger students. Whole school activities, such as Intra-House Competition days, are structured in houses.

178

standing at the front, however a few gave the seniors centre stage. The older boys were visibly more uncomfortable singing to the school. They adopted a powerful stance with their shoulders back and hands held together over their waists. They puffed their chests out, pushing their heads back and chins forward. Throughout the competition, lots of the ‘singing’ better resembled shouting, clearly coming from the older boys. At the end of the competition the First Sixteen29 took to the stage where they led the school in chanting. The boys chanted in unison, with the First Sixteen boys fist pumping the air and beating their chests. The male teacher sitting next to me leant over and whispered,

“I’m afraid of those guys, this is so intimidating”.



This opening vignette highlights an instance where practices of negotiating social status were visible at Kingston. During House Singing, the senior boys who were considered to be popular, maintained their status through overtly masculine practices. Processes of establishing and maintaining social status are significant during adolescence. In contemporary Western societies, adolescence is seen as a significant stage during which youth explore and consolidate identity (Erikson, 1959/1980). Of course, social relations are endlessly complex and vary in each context. At the House Singing Competition

29 The First Sixteen are a group of 16 Year 12 students who are selected to facilitate “school spirit” through supporting and chanting at sporting events, leading cheers, and encouraging spectatorship.

179

described above, I observed the ways that boys used their bodies and voices to maintain their social status, in a situation which required them to participate in an activity that was not associated with sport. At the end of House Singing, the chanting session enabled boys to engage in a practice that displayed masculinity through intimidation, dominance, and “blue and gold bravado”30.

The previous chapter focused on how heteronormativity and compulsory heterosexuality were embedded within the practices and social interactions at Kingston.

Not only was heterosexuality policed and reinforced through institutional practices, joking and homophobic language, and dichotomous gendered beliefs, but ‘masculine’ practices were also central to the establishment and maintenance of social hierarchies at Kingston. This chapter explores what it meant to be cool at Kingston. The first section considers how heterosexuality relates to the social hierarchies at Kingston. It goes on to explore how the body itself was central to social status. Then, it discusses moments where practices of domination were contested, resisted, or questioned and the ways in which practices of domination figure in ‘The Kingston Man’.

30 In the previous chapter, Mr Clarke referred to the “blue and gold bravado” at Kingston as a part of the school culture and masculinity that he has only observed in independent boys’ schools.

180

Heterosexuality and Hierarchies

As discussed in Chapter Three, in research conversations, the boys discussed an article written by a former student of an Australian elite boys’ school (Jha, 2016). The article argues the well-intentioned gender equality and ‘toxic masculinity’ education initiatives in elite boys’ schools are, ultimately, unsuccessful as boys continually choose to be cool rather than respectful. Jha (2016) suggests a deeply entrenched culture that glorifies rowers and rugby players is implicated in reproducing social relations that value dominance over other boys and girls as central to being cool. The boys were given some time to read the excerpt31 below and then asked what they thought of the article.

Excerpt from: On a pedestal Written by Pranay Jha, 2016

“Although all three headmasters pointed to a range of laudable, considered initiatives to educate against these behaviours, these programs could not account for one fundamental problem: in the choice between being “cool” and being respectful, young men rather tragically appeared to opt for the former…

“It was sort of funny because they just did this affirmation thing last White Ribbon Day.” Will, a school alumnus went so far as to say: “A lot of the students I know, particularly the older years, see it as tokenistic.”

The initiatives of schools are positive and well-intentioned, but a deeply entrenched culture that glorifies rowers and rugby players hampers the responsiveness of students to these programs. It would always be the boys who hooked up with as many girls as possible that would be celebrated, and not those who stood up for the rights of young women…”

31 This excerpt was selected from the larger article as the researcher believed it summed up the main ideas of the article. The printed excerpt was given to students to read, with one copy between two, during

181

Boys responded to the above excerpt in a variety of ways; some rejected the allegations, others wholeheartedly agreed. Regardless, it provided a useful starting point for deeper discussion about school culture, girls, and how normative masculine practices contribute to being cool at Kingston. The previous chapter examined how adhering to normative masculine expectations, such as being heterosexual and successful in sport, contributed to the construction of social hierarchies at Kingston. The more masculine sports, such as rowing and rugby, received the most praise and boys who participated in these sports are highest in the ‘pecking order’. This chapter continues to explore how these social hierarchies were constructed and reproduced at Kingston. The article excerpt above particularly refers to the significance of hooking up with girls to being cool. Although I was not able to observe boys’ interactions with girls during my fieldwork, conversations about girls in class and particularly in research conversations, gave insight into how relationships with girls were central to the social hierarchies at

Kingston. When responding to the excerpt above, Kevin explained how sexual interactions with girls are talked about and celebrated amongst peers.

There’s kids in this class that are like this. They always celebrate how

many girls they hook up with or how far they go in terms of first base,

second base, third base. Not people that stand up and say, have a long-

the research conversations. Emphasis added in thesis according to key aspects of the article discussed by the participants.

182

term relationship with someone and respect the girl. It’s absolutely

massive.

Most of the boys didn’t agree that hooking up with “as many girls as possible” was praised. However, Alex noted the more truthful part of this reflection was not about how many girls a boy hooked up with, but instead about hooking up with girls. He said,

“You’re a bit of a wanker if you’re celebrated and you feel fantastic hooking up with everyone. But as long as it’s with a woman I think that’s celebrated by itself”.

Conversation about the article illuminated the significance of heterosexual practices to establishing boys’ masculinity and dominance in the social hierarchies at Kingston.

Tyrone and Francis considered themselves to be “only average” level popular at

Kingston. They were in the popular group, but Tyrone says he “wouldn’t say I’m like top of them”. They provided interesting insight into how the culture of hooking up with girls operates at Kingston and particularly how different social groups interact with girls. Tyrone considered hooking up to be part of a social competition amongst the boys:

It’s [hooking up] kind of a competition within the school. ‘Oh, who did

you hook up with?’ or ‘how many tries did you score?’ or ‘how much

do you bench?’ and stuff like that. I guess the higher you go, the more

praise you get and the more people like you.

183

They went on to explain how to become popular at Kingston and gave insight into how social hierarchies were divided according to academic streaming of classes, which aligns with a boy’s popularity and ability to interact with girls.

Tyrone: To be popular- get with girls, hit the gym and play sport and be

in a good sport.

Francis: And don’t be completely stupid. Be in a decent class.

Tyrone: A classes32, I don’t think any of them touched- touched a female

ever anywhere… just like never. And then other kids, on the other hand

of the spectrum, have done a bit more than touching. And their views

are different… So, the A class will go to a party, if that’s what you’d call

it… they’ll like sit in the corner and like talk about it and ‘oh let’s go

over there and talk to that girl’ and then there’s people at the other end

of the spectrum they’ll like just go up to them.

Tyrone saw a clear distinction between the way that the ‘A class boys’ and the popular boys relate to girls in social situations. Although it is important for popular boys not to be “completely stupid”, they must have more experience with girls than the smarter,

32 Classes at Kingston are organised according to academic achievement. The ‘A-class’ refers to the top academic class in the year group.

184

but less confident ‘A class boys’. Tyrone went on to explain this distinction through telling a story from a party.

Tyrone: It happened at Rowing Afters33, I was there, and there were kids

that- because rowing is- a lot of kids do it now not because of rugby. I

do it because of rugby and because of the sporting kind of push… You

get a lot of praise for it…

I know other kids who are in the First 834, they’re in the A classes and

all that. At Rowing Afters, they’re like all in a group talking about who

they like wanted to talk to… then one of my friends went up to that group

[the girls] I didn’t know they [the A class boys] were talking about them

and there was like three girls and like three of us and then we just walked

around the corner and just got with the girls…

Tyrone recounted a situation where, at the Rowing Afters party he, and some of the more popular boys, “got with” three girls from another school. He found out later that the ‘A class boys’ had been working up the courage to talk to the girls, but never got

33 Rowing Afters is the annual party held after the Head of the River rowing race and is the high point of the social activities in the rowing season. Rowers and their guests are invited to Rowing Afters.

34 The First 8 is the top 8-person rowing crew in the school, it is prestigious to be in the First 8.

185

the chance. Tyrone then suggested that situations like this might occur because of the differences in how the ‘A class boys’ and the “cool group” look at girls.

Tyrone: I think the cool group kind of look at a girl as more of like to

just use them. And other guys are like ‘well we praise them if we ever

got to be with one, then we would respect them and stuff’. I’ve also been

brought up that girls- you have to respect them. And I still stick by that.

I do. I think I do. I hope I do, as much as I possibly can… women are

the holy grail to a guy I guess, it’s how it’s kind of depicted.

Tyrone told a story from a Rowing Afters party to depict the different ways that boys at Kingston interact with girls. The smart boys in the A class, although holding the privileged position of First 8 rowing crew, spent their time talking about how they want to talk with girls. Tyrone and his friends, who are cooler, did not waste time, and walked right up to the girls and then moved around the corner to hook up with the girls. The A class boys are praised athletes, but their status as smart boys and their lack of confidence talking to and hooking up with girls meant they were not considered as part of the cool group. Tyrone suggested that “women are the holy grail to a guy”. His explanation of social hierarchies at Kingston demonstrates how women are integral to boys securing their masculine status. Women are the “holy grail” to the shoring up of a boy’s masculinity, where heterosexuality is central.

186

David, a cricketer, suggested that the “massive sporting culture” at Kingston creates an environment where success in sport and “hooking up with girls” are central to being seen as cool.

Hooking up with girls, being good at sport is definitely a big aspect of

that because we’ve got a massive sporting culture here. So, if you’re

good at sport then people will look up to you, and think, ‘wow, he’s

amazing’. But I think yeah getting with girls is sort of seen as cool

because you’re interacting with members of the opposite sex and so

people think, ‘wow, you must be really cool’.

David suspected the “massive sporting culture” at Kingston creates an environment where sport and girls are central to masculinity. This is a common finding in research with adolescent boys. In Pascoe’s research at River High, a coeducational school in the

United States, one boy explained, “To be the coolest guy? If you’re just like a stud at sports and you’re a stud with the ladies” (Pascoe, 2012, p. 87). Not surprisingly, the most popular boys at Kingston engaged in heterosexuality and were successful athletes in what are considered the most masculine of sports. Hooking up with girls, “getting girls” (Pascoe, 2012, pp. 92-96), “being able to score” (Smiler, 2012, p. 92) and “girl watching” (Quinn, 2002) “functions as a game men play to build shared masculine identities and social relations” (p. 387). At Kingston, rituals of getting girls were not obvious in everyday interactions because school was a place devoid of female peers.

However, talking about girls, sharing stories of hooking up, and meeting girls at parties acted as avenues through which masculine identities and social relations were

187

constructed. These were some of the ways that compulsory heterosexuality became a part of boys’ friendships and interactions with one another.

During a research conversation, Chad explained the significance of the group environment to boys’ masculine performances. He described the tensions he and his friends experience between knowing what is ‘right’ and responding in line with these beliefs. Although he and his friends don’t believe hooking up with lots of girls is something to be praised, they are likely to give a “high five” in support when boys share stories about “pulling” girls.

So, I think with this it sort of shows the sort of the culture of not just

Kingston but sort of teenagers in general… I think being at a boy’s

school you have sort of less interaction with girls as what someone

would at a public school and just a co-ed school in general. Being able

to say like “high 5, I’ve pulled this many girls” or something, it’s

something that’s obviously wrong and you look at it and always laugh

at them saying how disrespectful it is. But because everyone wants to

fit in with the culture… So, like even though they don’t really believe it’s

cool to hook up with this many girls, they’ll still put their hand up and

high five for that sort of thing.

Troy goes on to explain the way that group culture and peer dynamics influence boys’ decision making, even if they know what is right and wrong.

188

I think if you’re by yourself, you ask all the boys in our year ‘do you

think it’s fair that women are treated like this?’ You show them the

article and you ask them. I’ll guarantee you that 95% at least will say

no… but it doesn’t stop the actions that will go on. I think the actions

that he’s talking about in this [article] especially, it’s people that are

seeking a pat on the back from their peers… they want to be considered

‘cool’ or “I’ve done it with this girl, this girl, this girl”… “they all think

I’m a legend. That’s me. I’m up there. I’m top shit.” I think boys seek

the reinforcement from their friends.

Chad and Troy described the masculinising processes operating as boys share stories and experiences of sexual interactions with girls. When stories are shared, even if peers consider the actions to be disrespectful to women, boys will receive a “pat on the back”.

In these instances, dominance over girls’ bodies becomes a symbol of male heterosexuality and evidence of refutation of same sex attraction. If boys desire and are successful with girls, then they couldn’t possibly desire each other. Thus, boys who

“get with girls” are positioned as masculine in a belief system that considers homosexual boys (who don’t get with girls) to be more similar to girls and therefore, positioned at the other end of the gender spectrum- in opposition to masculinity.

Being ‘Well Educated’: Violence and Rugby Culture

The boys were quick to distance themselves, and all of the ‘educated boys’ at Kingston, from perpetration of domestic violence. In one research conversation, boys noted that

189

stories of violence against women were much more common amongst rugby league players than rugby union players.

Andre: How do you raise a kid not to hit people, that’s the question I

ask

Bill: Not everyone hits people. To be fair, I think- Rugby [Union]

definitely doesn’t seem to have this, but most of the time people can

differentiate between the field and home. It does overlap, especially in

NRL, almost every week someone’s been accused of beating a girlfriend

or wife, but I think most people can differentiate between the two.

Andre: But out of all sports…

Bill: Rugby’s the worst. Yeah, the footballers aren’t going to beat their

wives…

Andre: You get used to hitting people.

Leonardis: I think a lot of Rugby League people drop out of school… I

don’t know, they think like education probably plays a big role in that.

Like not knowing right and wrong or getting taught it.

Andre: That’s the difference…

190

Bill: That’s the kind of people that- not always, because smarter kids

play Rugby [Union]. Union again is another thing because I find Union,

especially on TV when you see them interviewed you can’t understand

an NRL player but a Union player you can…

Andre: I find that Union players are smarter than NRL

Bill: I might sound like an elitist asshole, but Union’s mainly played at

private schools.

The boys suggested that men who are less educated, who they assume come from public

(not private) schools, are more likely to be perpetrators of violence against women.

Although they had no evidence for this assertion, they seemed to use comments like this to distance themselves (and the people they socialised with) from behaviour that they condemned. They reasoned that boys from elite private schools play Rugby Union or Football, and these men are not as likely to “beat their wives”. Although the boys shared stories of other Kingston boys sexually harassing and assaulting girls, they didn’t envisage boys like this being perpetrators of physical violence against women. At times it appeared they downplayed instances of harassment and assault (from within their friendship groups and school), or at least did not make a connection between these and violence, although the former are forms of the latter. The exchange above insinuates a classed distinction. Although both Rugby Union and NRL football codes require players to exhibit strength, violence and dominance over another player, the boys theorised that Rugby Union players (mostly from elite boys’ schools) are educated to

191

know what is right and wrong. NRL players, in contrast, lack education and are more likely to exercise their dominance over women through perpetration of violence.

Although the boys didn’t imagine boys like them being perpetrators of domestic violence, they did share examples of boys exercising dominance over girls through sexual assault and minor aggression like pushing.

While boys were able to critique ‘dominance over women’ as an attribute required of masculinity, exhibiting dominance was couched in more class-appropriate terminology such as ‘leadership’ and ‘success’. Success in sports like Rugby Union requires physical aggression and dominance to be exerted over others, but experiences in these sports were presented as leadership opportunities, character building, and an avenue for success.

Embodying ‘The Kingston Man’

Next door to the PDHPE staff room is an impressive weights gym, with a full-time strength and conditioning staff member and other part-time trainers. I watch boys filter in and out of the gym all day and it swells to capacity before and after school. The gym is mostly occupied by the rugby boys and a few students requiring supervised training while returning from injury. A few years ago, the rowers would be in the gym daily, but now they can be found in a separate rowing gym with the latest ergonomic machines. This section will explore the significance of the body to being ‘The Kingston

Man’ and consider how bodies are linked to being masculine and being ‘cool’ at

Kingston.

192

At the start of term, a new boy appeared in PDHPE class. The boys were drawn to him and immediately started asking questions about his body. “How tall are you? How much do you squat? Do you lift? Are you a rower? Do you play rugby?”. Leonardis quietly responded to the barrage of questions. He was exceptionally tall for a 15-year-old and had a broad and solid frame. His physique drew the attention of his classmates who made assumptions about his sporting ability and interests. Later that term, I sat next to

Leonardis in class as we answered a quiz about our level of aggression. His score was indicative of his passive nature, although his body was well suited to being a rugby player, his gentle nature and lack of aggression were uncharacteristic amongst his team.

At first, he appeared to be an embodiment of hegemonic masculinity and was praised for his size and physique. Over time, Leonardis said he found it hard to fit in and felt

Kingston was a very judgemental place. His quiet, gentle nature and aversion to using his bodily power, did not align with his perceived hegemonic masculinity. Leonardis explained his aversion to using violence in rugby, a concept his friends found hard to fathom. As they explained below, fights and displays of physical violence, particularly in rugby games, attract significant attention from the boys:

Bill: You (Leonardis) could push your weight around, but you don’t. So,

I don’t think your size is a factor anymore. It was on the first day because

you were massive.

Andre: But if you’re going to get started on and then people kind of bully

you, well then you’re obviously going to try and use your size.

193

Rachel: I don’t know that Leonardis would though, he’s pretty gentle...

Bill: If someone really came at you though, would you or not?

Leonardis: [I’d] walk away.

Bill: Goodness.

Leonardis: I always get punched or something in football and then one

thing I’m always going to remember is my nanna, she told me you’d

rather spend 10 minutes on the footy field than 10 minutes off the field

and it just stayed with me ever since because if you throw a punch you’ve

got 10 in the bin; if you don’t then you’ve still got 10 minutes of playing.

So, I just use that.

Bill: I remember at the beginning of this week the rugby kids were

having a huge game and there was a fight. That was all anyone was

talking about. Who was involved in it, who wasn’t, who knocked

someone out? So yeah, that is one of the main things at Kingston, if you

get in a fight…

Andre: Who won, who threw punches?!

Leonardis’ aversion to violence, even in rugby, was an anomaly to the boys in a context where being in a fight, knocking someone out, and throwing punches were “one of the 194

main things”. Acts of physical violence were popular topics of conversation and drew the attention of the school. What was inconceivable to his friends, was how someone capable of violent dominance (because of his size and strength) would instead choose to avoid aggression- even when provoked.

Leonardis’ experience as a new student at Kingston demonstrates the negotiations and relationships through which masculinities operate in schools. According to Carrigan,

Connell, and Lee (1987), hegemonic masculinity is “a question of how particular groups of men inhabit positions of power and wealth, and how they legitimate and reproduce the social relationships that generate their dominance” (p. 92). The boys most interested in assessing Leonardis on his arrival appeared to possess the greatest masculine power in their class. They were strong, athletic, and popular. In physical education classes they were competitive and aggressive, asserting their dominance physically and verbally. When Leonardis arrived in class his body appeared to represent a threat to those in power. Boys learn to relate to and use their bodies as they negotiate the social practices of masculinity in schools. The body is inextricably tied to the self- regulating and normalizing practices that construct masculinity (Martino & Pallotta-

Chiarolli, 2003). While Leonardis’ body suggested hegemonic embodied masculinity, thus threatening the social hierarchies in his class, he quickly positioned himself as subordinated because of his quiet, gentle nature and his disinterest in engaging in violence.

Another theme that emerges in these above excerpts from research conversations is the salience of success in sport as a hegemonic masculine practice in the local school setting

195

(Messner, 2002). As Bill said, talking about the fights in rugby games “is one of the main things at Kingston”. Expressions of violence and dominance that occur on the rugby field are masculinity-validating experiences where bodies are used as weapons

(Messner, 1990b). The body, and its ability to exert violence, constructs and clarifies differences between men and women and amongst men. Opportunities to demonstrate masculinity, through force and skill, were common at Kingston because of the compulsory nature of school sport and physical education. Earlier research on secondary schooling in an elite Australian high school also found that a clear structure of masculinities existed where a specific hegemonic form was shaped through the embodied practice of rugby which centred on domination, aggression, ruthless competitiveness, and giving all for the school (Light & Kirk, 2000). For youth, skilled bodily activity becomes a key indicator of masculinity, as seen with sport (particularly rugby and rowing) at Kingston. This is also a key way that heterosexuality and masculinity are linked, with “prestige conferred on boys with heterosexual partners and sexual learning imagined as exploration and conquest” (Connell & Messerschmidt,

2005, p. 851). In the social hierarchies at Kingston, certain bodies and body practices were most valued.

David: people who are considered more fit bodies, like ‘built’ are sort

of praised like ‘wow so fit, must go to the gym’ and things like that. But

people who are a bit larger might not get accepted as much, they might

get taunted for that which is really unfair. So, I think that’s a really big

part of it [popularity]. It’s always been a big part of acceptance, your

196

body. It makes up a lot of your physical appearance and how people

view you, I think.

Rachel: So, do you think like the more masculine body is the bigger one?

David: Yep, I think that’s viewed as like the one to be. That’s the one

that a lot of younger boys sort of look up to. If you’re first rugby or

something, first rowing, and you’re really built, they sort if think ‘wow,

I’d love to be that guy, look at how cool he is’. So, he gets a more popular

tag.

James: Yeah I remember being skinny was the main thing at primary

school. But then as we go into year 7, particularly with the sport thing,

elite sport, rugby and rowing, the attention it gets, having a bigger body-

not fat or overweight but just built, that was one of the things that was

very much looked up to and highly respected.

James and David suggested that bodies and physical appearance say something significant about the individual. Possessing a body that is “built” and evidences training and participation in sports like rugby and rowing, affords a boy respect and popularity.

In the House Singing competition discussed earlier in this chapter it was interesting to note that boys who possessed these big, athletic bodies adopted the power stance during singing. They stood in a way that showed off the size and masculinity of their bodies, during an activity where they may have felt like their masculinity was under threat.

197

Although traditionally it was believed men did not care about their appearance, more recently research has shed light on the concerns men have about their bodies and the practices they engage in to mitigate these concerns (Drummond, 2011; Gough, 2018;

Grogan, 2008; Ricciardelli, McCabe, & Ridge, 2006). Muscularity plays a key role in hierarchical masculine relations; boys and men who attain a muscular and athletic- looking physique are perceived as more masculine (Drummond, 2011; Pope, Phillips,

& Olivardia, 2000). With the changing nature of contemporary Western culture, expectations placed on the male body have shifted significantly. Historically, the muscular male body was developed through manual labour, but with the industrial revolution and rise of white-collar occupations, opportunities to develop a muscular body through physical work have been diminished. Now to attain the archetypal masculine physique, typified by muscularity, most men must actively seek out opportunities to build their bodies. As Morrison and Halton (2009) identify, men’s bodies have changed significantly over time; from being predominantly instrumental to predominantly ornamental. In the above conversations, David and James explained that having a big, muscular, athletic body affords young men at Kingston popularity and respect, but work is required to develop these bodies. Dedication to sport and training in the gym develops the ideal muscular body and, as a result, young men who achieve this body are “looked up to”.

The body is significant to being masculine at Kingston. Wellard (2006) suggests the body is a powerful means through which boys gain masculine capital and avoid marginalisation in schools. Students take their bodies into class with them and develop their bodies through participation. Physical education and sport are associated with the

198

reproduction of hegemonic norms (Pringle, 2008) and boys who embody traits considered to be masculine are most esteemed (Atencio & Koca, 2011). In HPE young people are educated in what is good for their body, what they should and should not do with their body, and what they should and should not put in their bodies (Tinning,

2014).

Teachers and their masculine bodies

Previous research has also suggested the body of the PDHPE teacher is significant in understanding masculine embodiment in a school. Brown’s (2005) study of male

PDHPE teachers argues they commonly exhibit a particular form of normative heterosexual masculinity. Brown (2005) described the habitus of the male PE teachers in his study:

A suitable (predominantly mesomorphic) physique; demonstrations of

specialized practical ability; a strong competitive disposition; highly

contextualized and codified emotional displays; a willing acceptance of

physical contact, pain and effort in sport; an orientation toward

dominance and control over other (p. 10)

Brown (2005) and others (Evans, Davies, & Penney, 1996) suggest that PE teachers learn embodied qualities as children and adolescents, with these dispositions being later reinforced through teacher education and school practice. Of course, there is also evidence to suggest that many PE teachers do not conform to these dispositions

(Markula & Pringle, 2006; Webb & Macdonald, 2007). At Kingston, PDHPE teachers 199

embodied this habitus to varying extents. As the teacher’s ages varied, some were no longer in their physical prime, while others were a picture of health and muscularity.

All teachers possessed specialised practical abilities and skill in a range of sports. This is something the students were aware of. James suggested, “obviously PDH teachers they’re known for their sporting attributes and being a sporting coach”. They were highly competitive, and some displayed an orientation towards dominance in the manner they demanded respect from students. This was evidenced in their tactics to control students by yelling, teasing, and joking. While activities in health classes suggested to students there are multiple, equally valued ways of being men, the masculine embodiment demonstrated by those teaching them may have suggested otherwise. A male dominated PDHPE department indicated that men are most equipped to teach about the business of boys’ health, bodies, physical activity and sport. In discussions, James and David commented on the male dominated faculty saying:

It represents the school sporting culture in a way... it’s a metaphor for

Kingston’s culture... there are certain little things that we just sort of

maybe don’t notice- the PE staff being one. It might be a little bit of a

metaphor for just the domineering male presence down there.

They suggested the domineering male presence in the faculty was symbolic of the whole school culture. Masculinity and dominance were entwined and the PDHPE teacher’s masculine embodiment was representative of the school’s values. David believed his school’s culture was inextricably linked to masculinity and bodies suggesting:

200

We’re wholly based on physical side being a huge male thing and the

male product of this school being huge sport-based people who might

be smart but it’s not really a mix of the two. It’s just the be all and end

all I think. Just being a big man is just what is embodied by this school’s

culture.

David expressed a belief that the physically large, muscular, male body is the tangible visible form of his school’s ideas, customs, and social behaviours. From his perspective, the male PDHPE staff demonstrated the school’s ideals and culture; that big, muscular men were most highly valued. Connell, Ashenden, Kessler and Dowsett (1982) explain,

“it is not a question of one gender pattern in a school, in a family, and another in a work place, all independent of each other; they are related (p.72). Thus, Chepyator-Thomson and Ennis (1997) suggest:

what is observed in an educational environment such as a physical

education class is a student’s interpretation of human reality outside and

inside the school. This interpretation may include a reproduction of

gender relations or a defiance of these relations (p. 89).

In the context of sport and PDHPE at Kingston, students (like James and David) observed the way in which PDHPE teachers’ masculinity reproduced gender relations.

The PDHPE teachers, many whose bodies evidenced archetypal masculine qualities, who were skilled in sport and using their bodies, were positioned as dominant within the school. The boys saw these teachers as an embodiment of ‘The Kingston Man’.

201

Being a woman in a boys’ school

The presence of women in elite boys’ schools has increased in many cases as an attempt to alter hypermasculine culture (Mooney & Hickey, 2012). However, in many instances

Poynting and Donaldson’s observations of the role of women in boys’ schools still rings true to some extent:

This ruling-class style of masculinity is defined by the absence of

women from all but helping and serving functions. The school not only

ostracizes women from nearly all positions of authority while using their

services but systematically maligns and deprecates “womanly”

characteristics and attributes wherever they appear, defining them as

manifestations of a vulnerability, passivity, softness, and incompetence

thought by the boys to be typical also of homosexuals. (Poynting &

Donaldson, 2005, p. 335, my emphasis)

Although Kingston employed women throughout the school, there was a distinct lack of female presence, particularly in positions of authority. This was most obvious within the ‘masculinity vortices’ (Connell, 2008) within the school: the departments of

PDHPE and Business and Economics. In their recent study of female teachers in an all- boys school Hickey and Mooney suggest, “hypermasculinity was revealed pedagogically through the privileging of a teacher’s ability to assert power and authority over a class, and to not reveal weakness” (2018, p. 241). Hickey and

Mooney’s (2018) interviews with female teachers in an all boys’ school give insight into the experiences of women working in all boys’ schools. The hypermasculine 202

environment in this context is (re)produced through disciplinary practices and structures where the ability to assert power over others is praised. Successful construction of masculinity is reliant on the competent operation of some degree of power and authority (Brittan, 1989), thus, male teachers’ ideologies and pedagogical styles are often composed to display their masculinity (Haywood & Mac an Ghaill,

1996; Willis, 1977). In the classroom, this is frequently revealed through practices that rely on explicit forms of discipline and control. “Homophobia and misogynist discourses which position females as the ‘other’ are used by teachers to construct themselves as ‘properly masculine’, and as a disciplinary tool” (Francis & Skelton,

2001, p. 19).

At Kingston, a disciplinary division was evident between some of the more “old school” teachers and the newer, younger educators. I often observed some of the “old school” teachers patrolling the school grounds, barking commands to “tuck in your shirt” or

“get to class”. As I walked from class to class, in conversation with some of these teachers, they would stop abruptly to shout at a student. Students talked about moving through the school to avoid the usual patrol routes if they had forgotten an aspect of their uniform at home. I observed that this type of disciplinary practice was always carried out by male teachers with the exception of the female sergeant35. Other male

35 Kingston employed two “sergeants” or General Duties Officers. They were ex-police and their job was to enforce school rules, hold detentions after school, and manage security (e.g. investigate stolen property) throughout the day.

203

teachers also resisted this type of explicit authoritarian discipline but drew on other methods, such as humour, to maintain control.

While a substantial body of work gives an account of women’s experiences of teaching boys, very little of this takes place in the context of all boys’ schools. Notable contributions include Pallotta-Chiarolli’s (1990) study of girls completing their final years subjects within an all-boys school, Angus’ work (1993a, 1993b), and more recently Hickey and Mooney (Hickey & Mooney, 2018; Mooney & Hickey, 2012). All boys’ schools, having their roots in the English public-school system (discussed in

Chapter Two), were established and continue to service the educational needs of boys and manage their transition from boys to men. A wide range of experiences have been presented through cinematic representations and scholarly literature where these schools are credited with fostering society’s social, political and sporting elite and, in contrast, as hotbeds for bullying, abuse and violence (Hickey & Mooney, 2018;

Saltmarsh, 2007). As Hickey and Mooney (Mooney & Hickey, 2012) describe, some female teachers in all-boys’ schools choose to adopt this classroom management style and persona, while others who don’t, question their professional expertise and

‘behaviour management’ skills. ‘Womanly’ characteristics and attributes are positioned in opposition to ‘masculine’, authoritative pedagogy and classroom management. In this way the nature of elite boys’ only schooling acts to binarise gender. A school catering for boys assumes homogeneity across the category of boys and even male teachers. This may derail elite boys’ schools’ intentions for a more feminist education, through the positioning of women in opposition to masculinity, with ‘soft’ feminine traits and boys who possess these traits or identities as homosexual.

204

Challenging the ‘Man Box’

At Kingston, PDHPE was a site where boys learned about their bodies, learned through using their bodies, and where the embodiment of masculinity was modelled by the teachers. The previous section has demonstrated ways in which the body was implicated in understandings of masculinity and being cool at Kingston and, in particular, the ways the body becomes a part of reproducing normative masculinity through practices of domination and popularity. At the same time, this was also a context where health education lessons were developed to challenge normative expectations of masculinity.

David and James suggested this would be a significant challenge considering the history of sport in the school.

Given the amount of time and effort, like over the years that we’ve put

into Rowing, like I think it would be hard for kids to have that

psychological mind change that sports and stuff comes first and women

are just lower down on the list. I think that would be a harder mindset

to change and whether – like you get some kids joking ‘oh treat women

respectfully’ but I don’t think they really mean it that much.

They saw the long-term investment that has been made in sport at Kingston as something that has instilled a certain way of thinking about boys and girls; where the boys and their sport are paramount, and women are less important. David and James considered efforts to change this mindset to be worthwhile, but something that would

205

take a significant amount of time before boys see treating women respectfully as vital, regardless of the cost.

As discussed earlier in this chapter, heterosexual masculinity was displayed through hooking up with girls. As heterosexual masculinity is confirmed through these practices, girls are positioned as inferior. It is through boys’ dominance over girls, through sexual mastery, that they gather proof of their masculinity. Although There’s

More to Being a Man and New Sexuality units in PDHPE shed light on respectful relationships, sexual consent, and domestic violence; the boys reflected that this had done little to change the way that boys’ interactions with girls were valued amongst peers.

Bill explained the group dynamics that took place after another boy mistreated a girl a few years ago.

I know guys who were abusive to women in like Year 8 and they’re

probably not going to change anytime soon. The good thing about that

is one instance I remember, everyone condemned it; at least. But not I

think- still not enough… everyone was quite upset with the guy who did

it. But it lasted about two weeks and then he was back with the guys and

it was all fine.

Kevin also shed light on instances where his peers mistreated girls. During a research conversation he said, “I know one kid in our class, like PE class, that doesn’t treat

206

women with respect, and I brought it up with him and he still…”. A year later when I returned to Kingston to discuss themes from the fieldwork and show the boys transcripts from research conversations, we had another long discussion about how some of his peers were treating women. He recounted a story from a recent party where, in his opinion, another boy took advantage of a girl who was drunk, an act that he condemned as sexual assault. He said instances like this were common, particularly at parties when they had been drinking.

Chad suggested that, amongst peers, boys think and act differently towards girls than they might on their own or talking with their parents.

I think when you talk to a student one on one about a serious issue, I

think they’ll take it seriously. But when they’re in front of their mates

and they hear all these things like not to abuse women… or whatever; I

think it’s hard for some students to take it seriously and to be able to

think about these different issues the same way around your friends as

what you would in front of your parents or just in the room by yourself.

This chapter has described ways that talk about hooking up with girls acted to confirm boys’ masculinity and was central to being considered cool at Kingston. The ways boys talked about girls and stories they told gave insight into this process, but not all boys engaged in normative masculine practices all the time. Several of the boys, like Bill,

Chad and Kevin were very critical of boys who exercised dominance over girls. As

Pascoe observes, “boys became masculine in groups” (Connell, 1996; Woody, 2002).

207

In small groups and in PDHPE lessons, boys demonstrated their ability to critique gendered and sex dominance practices over girls. However, as they explained, within peer groups they often fell short of condemning these practices or calling one another to account.

Like as it says at the end [of the article] as well, like boys will be

glorified to see how many girls they can hook up with rather than

standing for the rights of young women. It’s just yeah. Once again, it’s

a matter of like showing face. Like everyone knows the matter of like

domestic violence and like sexual equality and stuff like that but what

they’re willing to do for it…?

In the Man Box activity described in the previous chapter, boys identified dominance as a key pillar of masculinity. In PDHPE lessons they critiqued the notion that dominance over women was an acceptable expression of masculinity. Demonstrating dominance in a variety of ways is considered a central part of contemporary Western masculinity. Particularly, dominance over women is fundamental to patriarchal gender relations. However, many young men are now expecting women to reject patriarchal social relations and have instead crafted a “pragmatic egalitarianism” of their own

(Connell & Messerschmidt, 2005). Recently, with the significant public engagement in issues of gender equality and violence against women, pillars of ‘toxic masculinity’ or the Man Box are being critiqued beyond the field of academia. At Kingston, boys were encouraged to identify the societal expectations of masculinity, like dominance, and challenge these – replacing them with the values of ‘The Kingston Man’. As the boys

208

pointed out above, this work was being done at school, but when sacrifice is required, they may not be willing to count the cost.

As the article mentioned, schools like Kingston engaged in initiatives, such as White

Ribbon Day, and expressed a commitment to gender equality and feminism in PDHPE lessons. In research conversations, boys expressed a wide range of opinions about feminism. Most were sympathetic to notions of feminism associated with terminology of gender equality. However, they were suspicious of the term ‘feminism’, and of what they referred to as, “extreme feminism”. William explained, "I think a lot of the guys feel that equality is right, and feminism is taking it maybe a little bit too far. I think we all support the rights of young women". Other boys were openly very critical of feminism, and when I asked for their understanding of what feminism was, they suggested it was, “a bunch of idiots gathering around with tassels on their tits walking around the streets saying, ‘oh yeah, it’s all a rape culture’”. Some boys felt that feminism ignored the problems and needs of men and believed that men experience significant injustices, which need to be recognised.

Many participants expressed that the focus on equality in the PDHPE curriculum was positive, however they demonstrated a willingness to be sympathetic feminists, but not sacrificial feminists. Where their commitment to feminism would require giving up or loss of their own privilege, the boys didn’t feel this was fair. They voiced concerns that feminism represented a lack of fairness to men- that having equal gender representation on a board or in a workplace should be earned by merit, and not by policy that required the hiring of women only. They felt that equality should be achieved by women being

209

encouraged into fields/careers where they might not traditionally be, but not through the “special treatment” of women. Some participants who opposed these views shared stories their mothers had told them about the gender pay gap and opportunities in their own careers.

Conclusion

This chapter has discussed how being cool at Kingston involved dominance over other boys and over women. Engagement in practices characteristic of heterosexual masculinity, such as playing sport and hooking up with girls, confirmed boys’ masculinity and elevated them on the social hierarchy. Bodies were significant in these processes, with big muscular bodies being most valued. The violence these bodies exerted, particularly demonstrated in rugby, was masculinity-validating. These findings provide further evidence of the glorification of sport at Kingston, demonstrating the centrality of the archetype of the sportsman to being The Kingston Man. In contemporary elite spaces, the ‘traditional’ masculine attributes such as dominance and aggression are no longer valued. Instead, gentlemanliness and attributes of the contemporary businessman are promoted. The Kingston businessman and gentleman are closely linked to the envisaged futures of Kingston men. Although these archetypes are associated with positive values, they also operated to validate leadership, power, and dominance over others- both other boys and girls. This chapter also suggests the bodies of teachers are important in understanding how masculinity (and femininity) are enacted and valued within the school.

210

Dominance was a key characteristic of masculinity that was integral to the social hierarchies at Kingston. It is interesting to consider attributes, such as dominance and aggression, are no longer developed within elite boys’ schooling or whether they have instead undergone a ‘repackaging’. Although boys were clearly being taught that exerting dominance over girls in sexual encounters or relationships was not okay, the boys suggested this was something that was still common, but they were very critical of this behaviour. The boys demonstrated criticality and reflexivity in many instances and problematised values, beliefs, and practices that subordinated women. It is interesting to consider how my presence as a female researcher may have influenced how boys talked about issues specifically relating to violence against women and how they personally chose to treat women.

If boys are officially being taught about gender equality, consent, respect for women, and to challenge Man Box stereotypes and ‘toxic masculinity’, what is operating to undo these messages? As the article shared at the opening of this chapter suggests, although these initiatives in schools are well-intentioned “these programs could not account for one fundamental problem: in the choice between being ‘cool’ and being respectful, young men rather tragically appeared to opt for the former” (Jha, 2016). As this chapter demonstrates, hooking up with girls acts to confirm boy’s masculinity and thus elevate a boy on the social hierarchy at Kingston.

211

Chapter Eight- Conclusion: Thinking about Masculinities, Schooling,

and Health and Physical Education

The boys filter into their PDHPE class this morning and their teacher reminds them of the unit they are currently studying, ‘There’s More to Being a Man’. Mr Clarke asks the students to form small groups and after analysing a song about masculinity, they write their own version. I am sitting with a group of rowers who produce the following verse:

I hear you say that tradies36 only get the ladies

Come on down to rowing

And we’ll show you how you’re goin’

If your technique’s weak,

Hopeless or poor

At least you’ll look impressive

Wrapped in zootie37- you will score.

36 ‘Tradies’ is a slang term for tradesman. A tradesman is a person engaged in a trade such as building, electrical, or plumbing.

37 A zootie is a one-piece, tight fitting suit, that resembles bike shorts and a singlet top, worn by rowers.

212

A week after the lesson described above, I sit in one of the biggest school assemblies of the year, the rowers’ send-off. The hall is enveloped in darkness as the whole school silently awaits the commencement of the send-off video. The video opens with drumming, reminiscent of the Kingston Cadets’38 drum roll, and builds to the triumphant entry of a single rower. He climbs onto the rowing machine, the dark shadows highlighting his muscular arms and shoulders. A series of cross-cuts show the group of rowers in training: on the erg machines, lifting weights, and sprinting across the school grounds. Their bodies exude strength and power. The video moves to shots of the rowers on the water. The rowers stroke perfectly in time with one another and glide across the water with increasing speed.

Again, the film returns to highlights of training and body preparation before we see

Kingston’s rowing shed from above and return to the sole rower in training, his tanned body again gleaming with sweat. He completes his strokes on the erg, stands up, and walks from the room. Kingston’s rowing emblem appears at the conclusion of the film.

In the hall, the boys sit, captivated. The rowing squad prepare to file out and the First

Sixteen39 position themselves around the hall. Their leader starts a war cry and familiar

39 The First Sixteen are students in Year 12 who are selected to lead the school in developing ‘school spirit’. They lead the school in chants and cheers at sporting competitions.

213

noise fills the huge room, they chant in unison and the rowers form a processional out of the hall to the thumping sounds of the Kingston rumble.



The assembly (described above) is a tradition at Kingston and a similar one is also conducted before final competitions for the rugby team and, I’m told, less notably for the swimming and athletics teams. These institutional practices are deeply ingrained in the traditions of Kingston and establish masculinity through the valorisation of the sporting body and identity. The rower’s send-off video has been created by a talented student and is of professional quality, he uses footage from drones and has developed a beautiful piece of work. The quality of production alludes to the use of equipment and exceptional training accessible to individuals of a certain social class. This is further exhibited as the rowers train on ergometer (rowing) machines worth thousands of dollars, and row in costly rowboats. The film ends with a shot of Kingston’s rowing

‘shed’ which is a multi-storey luxury house and training facility on the waterfront. The characteristic sports and leisure practices of the wealthy, housed within the rowing shed, further establish relations of dominance and distance over other men and their bodies (Connell & Messerschmidt, 2005). Boys’ bodies are central throughout the film.

These bodies are hyper-muscular, white, tanned, sweaty, powerful, and regulated through intense training. As with the masculinity song, bodies are presented as central and symbolic of masculinity.

214

I start with these two vignettes about the rowers to highlight themes of masculinity I observed during my fieldwork at Kingston College. The rower’s song and send-off illustrate the intersecting dynamics of gender, social class, sexuality, bodies and institutional practices that construct and comprise masculinity in this context. The boys in PDHPE class, when asked to explore themes of masculinity through a song, underlined a specific type of masculinity they felt was associated with being identified as a rower. The representation of the rower in these two vignettes, the song and the send-off, displays the ‘curriculum of manhood’ operating at Kingston College; the curriculum of manhood can be understood through the archetypes of the Kingston sportsman, businessman, and gentleman.

As Chapter Five established, envisioning ‘The Kingston Man’ was expressed through being a Kingston sportsman; demonstrating success, competitiveness, the pursuit of self-improvement, and developing and possessing a muscular body were central to the boys’ understandings of manhood. In the song, the Kingston businessman is evident as the rower’s masculinity is positioned in opposition to the working-class tradesman and assumes dominance both over the ‘tradie’ and the women they successfully attain. The send-off video reinscribed the elite dimension of ‘The Kingston Man’ (particularly the businessman and the gentleman) through the expansive real estate, ‘high end’ facilities, and the quality of the film production. As discussed in Chapter Six, heterosexuality was a key tenet of masculinity at Kingston, and practices such as playing sport and building a muscular body acted to confirm a boy’s heterosexuality and masculinity. Chapter

Seven demonstrated how being cool at Kingston involved the dominance over other boys and over women. The rower’s masculinity described in the song and send-off is

215

intimately entwined with their bodies, seen through reference to their appearance in the rowing uniform, the zoot suit, and both the status and attractiveness that this uniform allows the body to convey. The centrality of the body to the send-off video suggests the reification of the male body in the masculinity making process. The song finishes by returning to the epitome of rower’s masculinity, their ability to “score”. Their sexuality, as heterosexual males who are gifted in winning over young women with their bodies and status, is again presented as inherent to their constructions of masculinity.

In this concluding chapter I recap central themes in my analysis of masculinity at

Kingston College. I start by analysing the concept of the elite boys’ school as

‘modernising’ by exploring these processes at Kingston. As I have noted throughout the thesis, elite boys’ schools are engaged in attempts to re-envision modern masculinity. Kingston College was arguably one of the more ‘progressive’ of the elite boys’ schools in Sydney and had made concerted efforts to challenge and rewrite the dominant ‘traditional’ masculinity required of Kingston Men. In order to interrogate the modernising aspirations of Kingston, I have chosen to include reflections of this process from the Principal and several teachers and situate these amongst other examples of this type of re-envisioning in elite boys’ schools in Australia in order to capture and critique the significance of this moment. This is the context within which my study of boys in school is embedded, and the culture it speaks back to. I return to some of the theories of masculinity I set out at the beginning of this thesis, considering these in light of the masculinity processes I observed. In addition, I explore how the

216

methodology of critical ethnography enabled the research to shed new light on masculinities in an elite boys’ school.

The Elite Boys’ School: “It’s Modernising”

At the time of my ethnography, discourse surrounding the ‘modernisation’ of making men in elite schools was becoming increasingly common. It was against this backdrop, which I go on to explain in more detail, that this research was situated and upon which

I draw my conclusions. In research conversations with Kingston staff, discussion of the changing, ‘modernising’ nature of the elite boys’ school was prominent. In particular, techniques used included making comparisons between the past and present nature of and practices of elite boys’ schooling and highlighting changing attitudes to difference.

In this concluding chapter I return to these aspirations and analyse the techniques used to situate Kingston as an institution charged with making modern gentlemen.

From the perspective of the Principal and PDHPE teachers, things at Kingston were slowly changing. Evidence for the changes within elite school culture more generally, the Principal suggested, could be seen through the sporting association of the elite schools in Sydney (the AAGPS). He suggested the AAGPS was “changing and modernising” but was a “slow beast”. When comparing the past to the present, sport was repeatedly mentioned. These schools were rooted in the old-fashioned English school games, so in the past boys were required to play rugby in winter and rowing or cricket in summer. However, the Principal explained that “the ethnic diversity is far more now, so by the introduction of volleyball, badminton, and table tennis, we’re

217

[Kingston] starting to get it”. These changes have been met with resistance from the

“old guard” or ‘old boys’ of the school, who hold tightly to the school’s rugby and rowing traditions. Although sport is still compulsory at Kingston, attempts at modernising sporting tradition have resulted in a greater focus on “why we play sport; the commitment, the dedication, the training, the fitness, the cooperation, the resilience, the learning how to win but also learning how to lose”.

As observed in Forbes and Weiner’s (2014) study of Scottish elite schools, Kingston had also been undergoing a process of reshaping the school’s original sporting and military traditions, in favour of new ‘softer’, ‘values-focused’ masculinities that were more in line with national and global labour markets and progressive societal expectations. Although participation in sport and outdoor education is still compulsory,

Kingston now offers alternatives to the traditional sports of rugby, rowing, cricket, and

Cadets. A variety of sports are offered for students to choose from including football

(soccer), volleyball, cross-fit and fencing. As the Principal suggested, a values framework that aims to inspire students “to be active for life and harness the power of sport to support wellbeing, develop character and make a positive contribution to society” (Kingston, 2018) is central to Kingston’s ‘positive sport’ approach. An alternative to the Cadets program is now offered in the form of the Kingston Challenge outdoor education program. This allows students to choose to engage in the compulsory outdoor education in years 9 and 10 without the connection to the military context.

These examples support claims of a reshaping of the school’s sporting and military traditions to allow more diverse experiences of sport and outdoor education and multiple pathways for students to enjoy the benefits of these programs.

218

Not only is a ‘softening’ or ‘reshaping’ of elite schools’ masculine traditions evident through changing sport and military ideologies, but explicit engagement in discussions of gender, masculinity and gender equality are now taking place in elite boys’ schools.

Reference to changing attitudes to difference acted as a technique to validate claims of modernisation. The PDHPE teachers, in particular, suggested that attitudes to homosexuality, to different cultures, race, and racism were slowly changing in society, as well as at Kingston. Some PDHPE teachers at Kingston, who were also ‘old boys’40 of Kingston, referred to the ways that Kingston had changed since they had been students at the school. In particular, they highlighted how conversations about masculinity and gender equality had now become commonplace but hadn’t been a part of their own school experience.

PDHPE teachers felt that the more focused education on masculinity and gender equality at Kingston would eventually produce a more thoughtful and respectful cohort of students. They suggested that generational changes were taking place within the school, particularly where attitudes to difference were transformed through initiatives such as taking gender equality pledges in assembly, initiatives that “certainly [weren’t] in place back in the day”. These comments suggest the introduction of ‘soft-skilling’ practices address a growing ‘need’ for elite schools to align with modern social values.

40 An ‘old boy’ is a former male student of a school or college.

219

Teachers acknowledged the broader ways that attitudes to difference were changing in society and promoted this kind of change at Kingston.

In the two years following my fieldwork at Kingston, instances of elite schools engaging in gender equality initiatives became more common. The prefects of one school released a video, titled Feminism is Important To Us, made as part of a series of events revolving around International Women’s Day at the school. The video shows students repeating statements from women in their lives about why feminism is important to them and is part of a wider campaign at the school to promote gender equal values. At another elite school in Australia, the principal’s action to change three traditional social events; a House Captain strip show, ‘Milk Run’, and Year 12 Social has garnered significant attention. The principal condemned the traditions which promoted a ‘locker room mentality’ at the school, instead working with students to

“redress this uncomfortable truth about our culture” and rewrite schooling traditions.

Another school currently runs ‘boys to men’ educational programs which include instruction in areas such as financial literacy, domestic skills, sex and intimacy, etiquette and manners, and car maintenance and safety. A popular boys’ education program, taken up in many elite boys’ schools, aims to invert boys’ selfish and toxic use of their masculine strength and teach boys to use masculine strength for service.

These are just some examples of a profound move towards elite schools addressing the reproduction of masculinities through targeted programs and initiatives.

Kimmel (as cited in Sedensky, 2018) recently argued the #MeToo (and associated) movements have pushed a wide discussion of gender issues. Conversations about

220

gender equality, domestic violence, sexual consent, sexual harassment and the gender pay gap, for example, have been thrust into popular media and championed on social media. These discussions of gender issues are now commonplace within Sydney’s most elite boys’ schools where students are taught gender, sexualities, and relationships education within the context of Health and Physical Education lessons and pastoral care programs. Beyond these lessons they take part in a variety of laudable initiatives that aim to educate boys against demeaning, angry, or violent behaviours towards women.

At a recent University of Sydney public discussion of male privilege and the #MeToo movement, the overwhelming consensus was that we must educate boys about gender issues, it was argued that education is the way forward towards a more just and gender equal society.

Elite boys’ schools in Australia are engaging with projects to become more pro-feminist sites of education. At the same time, deeply ingrained traditions and structures remain.

An in-depth examination of the culture at one elite school, following incidents of group sexual assault, concluded that “bullying, brutalization, and ‘hardening’… [are] characteristic of the production of ruling-class masculinity” (Poynting & Donaldson,

2005, p. 326). As discussed, the more recent initiatives in elite schools are attempts to address the construction of this ‘hardened’ form of ruling-class masculinity. However, as I stood at the Kingston ANZAC parade, for example, and observed boys standing perfectly still in their army uniforms, so still under the blazing sun that 20 or 30 students faint during this yearly ritual, it seemed clear that (at least some) hardening practices endured.

221

What still remains in the majority of elite boys’ schools in Australia (except for a couple of recent examples) is the single-sex requirement of being accepted into the school. “By the very nature of naming a school as a ‘boys’ school, gender is inherently foregrounded” (Mooney & Hickey, 2012, p. 200). These schools are positioned as experts in boys’ education and trade on the premise that boys’ and girls’ education should be distinct because of fundamental differences in the way boys and girls learn.

Thus, Kingston depends on shoring up gender divisions, even in its attempts to unmake them. Indeed, elite boys’ schools are well-versed in the practice of making men, yet it is men who have made (and continue to make) these schools. Kingston College, as well as other elite boys’ schools, are engaging in practices and initiatives which attempt to disrupt gender hegemony. However, it is clear from this research that these are not circuit breakers to the repetition and reproduction of normative masculinity and gender inequality.

Masculinity at Kingston College

At the start of this thesis, I gave a broad-brush account of how the theorisation of masculinity/ies has developed over time, paying particular attention to the contributions of Raewyn Connell’s concepts of relational gender, gender regimes, multiple masculinities, and hegemonic masculinity. Connell theorised that masculinities are multiple and relational, suggesting that the relationship between masculinities is as significant as the relationship between masculinity and femininity. Her concept of hegemonic masculinity captures the hierarchical nature of masculinities and suggests

222

that through gender hegemony, unequal relationships between men and women, and among masculinities, are legitimated.

The study of boys in school, reported in this thesis, considers how (and if) this theory is seen in action and hopes to contribute to our understanding of masculinities theory through greater insight, particularly of boys’ experiences of masculinities in the elite school context. This thesis provides a contemporary insight into the ways that hegemonic masculinities operate in the Australian elite boys’ schooling context. At

Kingston, the project of making modern gentlemen continued to reproduced gender hegemony where the rugby player and rower were positioned as hegemonic. The curriculum of manhood operating intended to encourage diverse masculinities that focused on ‘soft skills’ and values, but the unofficial curriculum at play often acted to disrupt these attempts. Instead, boys’ success in sport, in developing a muscular body, and in ‘getting with girls’ were integral to confirming their masculinity.

A curriculum of manhood

This thesis has developed the concept of a ‘curriculum of manhood’ to refer to the official and hidden curriculum of ‘what it means to be a good man’ and how this is constructed at school. As Kimmel (2012) suggests, manhood is created in our culture, and this thesis has provided insight into how manhood is constructed in the context of an elite boys’ school. The explicit curriculum of manhood at Kingston was developed as part of an attempt to reorganise elite masculinity and to respond to the changing nature of society, where the ‘traditional’ elite schoolboy was perceived to be less

223

palatable. However, what is clear from my study is that both an official and a hidden curriculum of manhood were operating at Kingston, as the school promoted an explicit set of values and ideology that typify the kinds of men the school aimed to produce.

Operating within this curriculum of manhood were three key archetypes of manhood;

The Kingston businessman, gentleman, and sportsman. The Kingston businessman, gentleman, and sportsman concepts exemplify the classed nature of manhood being

‘taught’ at Kingston. The businessman was a way in which eliteness was reproduced, as Prosser (2016) suggests, through an ‘elite imaginary’. Envisaging successful futures and being ‘set up’ for post school was a key project in the curriculum of manhood and is evidence of the ways in which privilege and class power are made and remade in elite institutions. The boys themselves policed peers who did not envisage elite futures, for example, suggesting a decision to leave school to become a tradesman was a waste of the investment being made in the boy’s education. The concept of the gentleman was similarly a classed notion. There is a long tradition of making gentlemen in elite schools and, at Kingston, this project had been modernised. Gentlemanliness, however, is bound to its origins in gentry and gentility- gentlemen are men of noble birth who are chivalrous, honourable, and courteous. Although attempts to promote chivalry and gentlemanliness at Kingston were well-intentioned, they are an example of what Glick and Fiske (2011) term ‘benevolent sexism’. That is, they unintentionally reproduce gender inequality through the assumption that women are weak or in need of protection.

This finding provides an avenue for rethinking how masculinities programs in HPE approach attempts to critique and reconfigure masculinity. In this case, Kingston

224

endeavoured to offer an alternative manhood to ‘toxic’ masculinity, in the form of the gentleman, but this acted to mask gendered and classed privilege and reproduce gendered inequality. There were, however, glimpses of insight into the impact of ‘toxic’ ways of being and doing manhood on women’s lives, which some boys came to understand through developing deep relationships with girls and women as described in Chapter Five. Thus the ‘gentleman’ figure is not fixed. While it is associated with a form of sexism, the gentleman can also be a force of resistance against ‘toxic’ masculinity that re-inscribes gendered inequality.

The sportsman is another key figure in elite boys’ schools such as Kingston. Although the official curriculum of manhood represented a move away from valorising the sportsman towards the values and virtues of being a ‘good’ man, boys suggested that deeply entrenched practices and traditions at the school acted to glorify the sportsman.

The boys expressed the disconnect they observed between how ‘The Kingston Man’ was represented in and by sport and how it was conceived in other parts of school life.

Thus, in quite a reflexive way, they equated ‘The Kingston Man’ with both the values the school intended through the official curriculum of manhood and the unofficial requirement of being successful in sport and possessing a muscular body. As cited in

Chapter Five, the boys observed how two different ideas of ‘The Kingston Man’ operated in tension at Kingston; that of the Kingston sportsman and the values-focused

Kingston Man.

Research has highlighted the lack of explicit discussion of masculinity and sexuality in schools (Allen, 2007a; Ferfolja, 2007; McCormack, 2014). At Kingston, these

225

discussions were becoming more commonplace, with units on masculinity and sexuality featuring within PDHPE. Concerted efforts were made to design a curriculum and lessons where boys were encouraged to appreciate diverse masculinities and challenge ‘toxic’ and stereotypical masculinities, a project that Keddie and Mills (2007) argue has the potential for producing more equitable gender relations in schools. There were many instances in these lessons where boys ‘joking’ could have been used as a teachable moment, for example, when a student called out to ask how to tell his girlfriend he was gay (discussed in Chapter Six). Moments like these were common and would have benefitted from greater troubling of the underlying beliefs and assumptions that led students to make comments and ‘jokes’ like this. This may be a small way to enable adolescents to become more conscious of the ways their language and actions function to reproduce inequitable gender relations in school, even when the beliefs they articulate suggest acceptance of more diverse masculinities. Although there were many opportunities to discuss gender and sexuality at Kingston, attempts to instil a more critical and diverse understanding of masculinity and sexuality were ultimately impacted by the broader gender regimes. This finding suggests that schools should consider the ways that the hidden curriculum of manhood operates in each particular schooling context. Speaking with the boys themselves provided insight into the processes and practices which disrupted attempts to produce more egalitarian, diverse masculinities.

Not only was the explicit ‘teaching’ of the curriculum of manhood evident through planned PDHPE units on masculinity and sexuality, but the curriculum of manhood was constructed through and by the teachers themselves. Boys suggested the masculine

226

bodies of the PDHPE staff were symbolic of the schools’ masculine culture. At the same time as the PDHPE teachers were attempting to offer critical perspectives on masculinity and provide opportunities for boys to critique masculine stereotypes, the male-dominated presence in the faculty suggested to boys that the ‘alpha male’ PDHPE teacher was the ultimate representation of masculinity, positioned at the top of the masculine hierarchy. If these schools are truly committed to challenging gender inequality, then this commitment must be represented in the staffing and leadership of the school. This is the case for the “masculinity vortices” such as Health and Physical

Education and Sport, which in Kingston’s case, have a significant lack of female presence and voice; and I would argue greater female representation is required at the school leadership level for boys to truly understand what gender equality looks like in the context of an all-boys’ school. Boys’ discussion of the ways that the hidden curriculum constructed the most valued way of being ‘The Kingston Man’ suggests that young people, when given an opportunity, are capable of providing thoughtful and critical insight into the ways that masculinities operate in schools.

My research suggests student’s capacity to problematise some of the everyday practices of schooling life in an elite school that constructed the ‘curriculum of manhood’. While the official HPE curriculum suggested that boys could be whatever type of men they wanted to be, and all versions of masculinity were equally valued, participants both challenged and reinforced ideals of the Kingston businessman, gentleman, and sportsman. They suggested that, although the school alleged they most valued honest, ethical, respectful Kingston Men, in reality they praised the rugby player or rower who represented heterosexual, muscular masculinity. Positive messages of gender equality

227

and diverse masculinities, then, seemed to be interrupted by the hidden curriculum of masculinity in the elite school.

Homohysteria and social class

My study found that boys positioned masculinity hierarchically; with homosexuality and femininity at the opposite end of the spectrum to masculinity. Although use of the fag epithet and homophobia were far less explicit than evidenced in Pascoe’s (2006) ethnography of an American high school, positioning of homosexuals as ‘other’ happened subtly- but powerfully, nonetheless. Boys clearly defined masculinity as being the domain of heterosexuality during a Man Box activity in PDHPE, described in Chapter Six, and they expressed their distaste for boys identifying as bisexual, although they suggested this was attractive in girls. In subtle ways they re-inscribed the heterosexual us/homosexual them binary by presenting homosexuality as unthinkable; a way of being beyond the walls of Kingston College. Boys attributed this to the all boys’ schooling environment, the supremacy and hierarchy of the sporting culture at

Kingston, and the ideal of ‘The Kingston Man’. Although ‘The Kingston Man’ framework makes no reference to sexuality, nor was this connection made in PDHPE, students felt the proliferation of the concept throughout school life was heteronormative and excluded sexually diverse boys.

Recently, researchers have theorised a cultural reduction in homohysteria; resulting in the acceptance of more positive, diverse expressions of masculinities in schools

(Anderson, 2016; McCormack, 2012, 2014). The theory of inclusive masculinities

228

suggests that Connell’s (1995) theorisation of masculinities, as vertically stratified or hierarchical, is dependent on cultural homohysteria. Anderson (2011) argues that in a setting with little homohysteria, boys are stratified horizontally and archetypes of masculinity are independent of popularity. Although Anderson and McCormack have found evidence for this in schools and amongst college-aged boys, my findings from

Kingston College do not evidence this degree of inclusive masculinities. Instead, masculinities at Kingston were organised hierarchically with a dominant, hegemonic masculinity possessing the greatest power. Although there were concerted attempts to encourage more diverse masculinities and reject ‘toxic’ masculinity, boys largely understood their masculinity in opposition to femininity and homosexuality. Differing expressions of masculinity were organised hierarchically. Boys who fulfilled the more

‘traditional’ requirements of masculinity; being muscular, successful in sport, and successful with girls, were situated at the top of the hierarchy.

The emerging body of inclusive masculinities research has largely been conducted with white middle-class boys, and in McCormack’s (2014) study, with white working-class boys. McCormack (2014) argued for the importance of an intersectional analysis to understand the impact of class and gender on the development of inclusive attitudes to masculinity. While he found that decreasing homophobia among male youth was both a middle-class and, to a lesser extent, working-class phenomenon, my research suggests the elite boys’ school context at Kingston may be an island within a geography of

Anderson’s (2016) cultural inclusivity. Evanston, a nearby public school that participants referred to in their discussions of sexuality, is geographically proximate however boys reported the acceptance of homosexuality was markedly different there

229

when compared to Kingston. Although there may have been a broader cultural shift towards reduced homohysteria, this research suggests that this attitudinal change has not been fully realised in the elite boys’ school, begging the question of how homohysteria is associated with ‘eliteness’. This research, of course, reports on one school culture in particular and is not generalisable to all boys’ schools, but importantly it develops an intersectional analysis that helps understand the impact of class and gender on attitudes to masculinity.

Reflecting on Critical Ethnography

This research joins a growing body of critical ethnographic research in schools, and particularly in HPE. Applying critical ethnographic methodology allowed for a depth of insight into the cultural spaces of Kingston College, while also attending to the wider social hierarchies or structures (Willis, 1977). Specifically addressing (and challenging) the broader social hierarchies and power relations is what makes an ethnography

‘critical’. In the context of research on men and masculinities, critical research should contribute to the emancipatory project by developing a deeper understanding of how men gain, maintain, and use power to subordinate women (and other men) and possibilities for transforming this power (Pease, 2013). Critical ethnographic research also aims to equip participants with a “heightened awareness of the ways in which their daily lives are constructed… and provide intellectual and practical resources for social and personal transformation” (Holmes & Smyth, 2011, p. 146).

230

Critical ethnographic research allowed for deep insight into the culture at Kingston

College. Earlier in this thesis, and indeed early on in the research process, I justified my classification of the school as ‘elite’. I applied Gaztambide-Fernández’s model, ‘the five E’s of elite schooling’, to the context of Kingston College. Through ethnographic research in the school site, I was able to better understand if and how Kingston was

‘elite’. Entry into the Kingston school involved early registration of boys (before the child’s first birthday for Kindergarten entry and fifth birthday for high school entry) and interviews. Priority was given to boys whose fathers or grandfathers were

‘Kingstonians’. The implicit purpose of this process is to “exclude [emphasis added] and provide a rationale for such exclusions” (Gaztambide-Fernández, 2009, p. 6). Once admitted and enrolled into the school, students engage in academic, athletic and artistic pursuits of the highest quality. Teachers are carefully selected, facilities are meticulously maintained, and opportunities for exceptional co-curricular activities are endless. As students develop their talents and demonstrate their personal excellence, they confirm their entitlement to a Kingston education. Indeed, the mantra of “not wasting your time at Kingston” was common during my time in the school. Students felt they deserved their place at the school as long as they enjoyed at least some of the opportunities afforded them. As they near the end of their Kingston education, students envision themselves as part of other equally elite spaces. They prepare themselves for tertiary education at elite institutions, challenging high paying careers, and leadership roles. This precise process of ‘elite’ schooling, observed by Gaztambide-Fernández

(2009), was evident at Kingston College.

231

My study contributes to the growing body of research which explores the world of elite education. As Nader (1974) argued, ‘studying up’ is essential for the development of adequate theory of the power at play in the society. In all countries where research has been conducted within elite schools, this research has provided important insight into how these schools underwrite and rewrite class, race, and gender privilege and power

(Koh & Kenway, 2016). My study of elite schooling at Kingston College contributes to our understanding of how elite boys’ schools in Australia make modern gentlemen.

In particular it provides rare and valuable insight into the intersectionality of class and gender privilege and how this is produced and reproduced in an elite school.

In the design of this research I employed several strategies with the aim of challenging the unequal power relations that often exist in the researcher/researched relationship.

My desire was for student’s voices to drive the research, I planned to collaborate with students to develop topics for discussion in research conversations. However, my initial attempts to present a student-driven iterative framework for research conversations was not approved by the university ethics committee. This requirement imposed a more researcher-led design for research conversations. Another way I attempted to disrupt this power relationship was through resisting the ethnographic tradition of observation.

I did this by participating in PDHPE lessons alongside students, and through this participation, building relationships. Although I spent two school terms at Kingston, there is no doubt that a longer period of time at the school would have provided greater insight and perhaps further opportunities to disrupt some of the normative gender practices observed. Of course, deeper engagement in the boys’ lives would have added an additional dimension to the research. Masculinities were not produced in a vacuum

232

at Kingston, so observing and understanding student’s lives outside of school would have no doubt provided additional insight.

At the same time as sport was a key site for the reproduction of normative masculinity, my experience as a female researcher participating in PE lessons in some ways acted to disrupt gendered inequalities at Kingston. As I participated and used my physicality alongside the students we engaged in a playful competitiveness, like the instances described by Fitzpatrick (2010) in her critical ethnography of HPE. Playful competitiveness has the potential to dismantle the competitive aggressiveness often characteristic of boys’ physical education classes.

When I reflect back on my implementation of a ‘critical’ approach to this research I am aware of how my approach was quite cautious in its criticality. In my attempts to carefully negotiate university expectations and requirements as well as a positive relationship with the school site, I had to moderate the level of criticality of the research.

In my regular meetings with my PhD supervisor, she often reflected on my optimism for change at Kingston. While I became acutely aware of how gendered and classed masculinities operated at Kingston College, and some of the problematic and destructive cultural practices, I maintained a belief that the teachers and school were genuine in their desire to change. After all, they openly welcomed me into the school, and while there was no doubt this can be perceived as beneficial to them because of their association with an elite university, they allowed the students, teachers, and school to be vulnerable in order to gain insight into boys’ experiences of becoming men at school. Because of this, I wanted to ensure that I did respectful research; honouring the

233

humanity of the participants, while considering possibilities for change through and as a result of the research.

One of my greatest hopes for this research was this it could provide opportunities for boys to more critically consider their own beliefs, understanding, and values related to gender. Kehler and Martino’s (2007) research suggested that boys had the capacity to self-problematise relations of masculinity and wanted opportunities to critically discuss masculinities in school. This research aimed to provide boys with these opportunities so they might develop a heightened awareness of the ways in which their daily lives, and masculinities in particular, are constructed. Although much of this research suggests that elite boys’ school’s attempts to transform masculinities are disrupted by the persistence of ‘traditional’ classed notions of masculinity, it also demonstrates boys’ capacity to reflect on and challenge these discourses and practices. While the boys’ classed and gendered privilege was, at times, invisible to them this research provided opportunities for this privilege to become more visible.

Conclusion

Throughout this thesis I discuss attempts to disrupt normative or ‘toxic’ masculinities at Kingston. In PDHPE boys were given opportunities to challenge the Man Box and reconceptualise the rigid expectations of masculinity. While lots of this work was extremely positive, overall this thesis finds that these attempts have not yet succeeded in breaking down the Man Box through which boys’ masculinity is measured. I started this chapter with an account from a PDHPE lesson and school assembly which is

234

characteristic of the ongoing glorification of sportsmen, muscular bodies, and heterosexuality evident at Kingston College. I share details about contemporary conversations happening in the public sphere across Australia (and internationally) which evidence concerted attempts to re-envision masculinity in elite boys’ schools in particular. As the Principal and teachers acknowledge, these projects are indeed slow moving. What is evident from their reflections is that conversations and critical opportunities for thinking about gender are becoming more common in elite boys’ schools. This thesis is a contribution to these theories, debates, policies, and practices and aims to challenge the making of modern gentlemen.

235

References

Agee, J. (2002). "Winks upon winks": Multiple lenses on settings in qualitative educational research. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 15(5), 569-585. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/09518390210157298

Aggleton, P., Homans, H., & Warwick, I. (1989). Health education, sexuality and aids. In S. Walker & L. Walker (Eds.), Politics and the processes of schooling. Milton Keynes, England: Open University Press.

Agostino, K. (2003). Men, identity and military culture. In S. Tomson & M. Donaldson (Eds.), Male trouble: Looking at Australian masculinities. North Melbourne, Australia: Pluto Press.

Allen, L. (2005). Sexual subjects: Young people, sexuality and education. Houndmills, England: Palgrave Macmillan.

Allen, L. (2007a). Denying the sexual subject: Schools’ regulation of student sexuality. British Educational Research Journal, 33(2), 221-234. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/01411920701208282

Allen, L. (2007b). Doing ‘it’ differently: relinquishing the disease and pregnancy prevention focus in sexuality education. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 28(5), 575-588. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/01425690701505367

Anderson, E. (2009). Inclusive masculinity: The changing nature of masculinities. New York, NY: Routledge.

Anderson, E. (2011). The rise and fall of Western homohysteria. Journal of Feminist Scholarship, 1(1), 80-94.

236

Anderson, E. (2016). Inclusive masculinities. In C. J. Pascoe & T. Bridges (Eds.), Exploring masculinities: Identity, inequality, continuity and change (pp. 178- 187). New York, NY: Oxford University Press.

Angus, L. (1993a). Masculinity and women teachers at Christian Brothers College. Organization Studies, 14(2), 235-260.

Angus, L. (1993b). Women in a male domain: Gender and organisational culture in a Christian Brothers College. In L. Angus (Ed.), Education, inequality and social identity. Washington D.C: Falmer Press.

Apple, M. W. (2004). Ideology and curriculum (3rd ed.). New York, NY: RoutledgeFalmer.

Atencio, M., & Koca, C. (2011). Gendered communities of practice and the construction of masculinities in Turkish physical education. Gender and Education, 23(1), 59-72. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/09540250903519444

Atkinson, P., & Hammersley, M. (2007). Ethnography: Principles in practice (Third ed.). New York, NY: Routledge.

Australian Bureau of Statistics. (2019). Schools, Australia, 2017. Retrieved from http://www.abs.gov.au/AUSSTATS/[email protected]/mf/4221.0

Australian Curriculum Assessment and Reporting Authority, A. (2014). Australian curriculum health and physical education. Sydney, Australia: Australian Curriculum Assessment Reporting Authority.

Bain, L. L. (1975). The hidden curriculum in physical education. Quest, 24(1), 92-101. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/00336297.1975.10519851

Bain, L. L. (1985). The hidden curriculum re-examined. Quest, 37(2), 145-153. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/00336297.1985.10483829

Bain, L. L. (1990). A critical analysis of the hidden curriculum in physical education. In D. Kirk & R. Tinning (Eds.), Physical education, curriculum and culture: Critical issues in the contemporary crisis. Lewes, England: Falmer.

237

Baker, J. G., & Fishbein, H. D. (1998). The development of prejudice towards gays and lesbians by adolescents. Journal of Homosexuality, 36(1), 89-100.

Baltzell, E. D. (1964). The protestant establishment: Aristocracy and caste in America. New York, NY: Vintage.

Barber, K. (2016). Styling masculinity: Gender, class, and inequality in the men’s grooming industry. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press.

Behar, R. (1996). The vulnerable observer. Boston, MA: Beacon.

Bourdieu, P. (1986). The forms of capital. In J. Richardson (Ed.), Handbook of theory and research for the sociology of education (pp. 241-258). New York, NY: Greenwood Press.

Bourdieu, P., & Passeron, J.-C. (1990). Reproduction in education, society and culture (Vol. 4). London, England: SAGE.

Braun, V., & Clarke, V. (2006). Using thematic analysis in psychology. Qualitative Research in Psychology, 3(2), 77-101. doi:http://dx.doi.org/10.1191/1478088706qp063oa

Bridges, T., & Pascoe, C. J. (2014). Hybrid masculinities: New directions in the sociology of men and masculinities. Sociology Compass, 8(3), 246-258. doi:10.1111/soc4.12134

Brittan, A. (1989). Masculinity and power. Oxford, England: Blackwell.

Brown, D. (2005). An economy of gendered practices? Learning to teach physical education from the perspective of Pierre Bourdieu's embodied sociology. Sport, Education and Society, 10(1), 3-23. doi:http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/135733205298785

Browne, R., & Fletcher, R. (Eds.). (1995). Boys in school: Addressing real issues- behaviour, values and relationships. Sydney, Australia: Finch Publishing.

Burgmann, V., Connell, R., Mayne, S., & McGregor, C. (2004). Class in contemporary Australia. In N. Hollier (Ed.), Ruling Australia: The power, privilege and

238

politics of the new ruling class. Melbourne, Australia: Australian Scholarly Publishing

Burstyn, V. (1999). The rites of men: Manhood, politics, and the culture of sport. Toronto, Canada: University of Toronto Press.

Campbell, C., & Proctor, H. (2014). A history of Australian schooling. Crows Nest, Australia: Allen & Unwin.

Carnaghi, A., Maass, A., & Fasioli, F. (2011). Enhancing masculinity by slandering homosexuals: The role of homophobic epithets in heterosexual gender identity. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 37(12), 1655-1665. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/0146167211424167

Carrigan, T., Connell, R., & Lee, J. (1985). Toward a new sociology of masculinity. Theory and Society, 14(5), 551-604. doi:10.1007/BF00160017

Carrigan, T., Connell, R. W., & Lee, J. (1987). Toward a new sociology of masculinity. In H. Brod (Ed.), The making of masculinities: The new men's studies. Boston, MA: Allen & Unwin.

Carspecken, P. (1996). Critical ethnography in educational research: A theoretical and practical guide. New York, NY: Routledge.

Chase, S. (2008). Perfectly prep: Gender extremes at a New England prep school. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.

Chepyator-Thomson, J. R., & Ennis, C. D. (1997). Reproduction and resistance to the culture of femininity and masculinity in secondary school physical education. Research Quarterly for Exercise and Sport, 68(1), 89-99. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/02701367.1997.10608870

Clandinin, D. J., & Connelly, F. M. (2000). Narrative inquiry: Experience and story in qualitative research. San Franciso, CA: Jossey-Bass.

Claussen, C. (2019). Men engaging boys in healthy masculinity through school-based sexual health education. Sex Education, 19(2), 115-129. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/14681811.2018.1506914

239

Coll, L., O’Sullivan, M., & Enright, E. (2018). ‘The trouble with normal’: (re)imagining sexuality education with young people. Sex Education, 18(2), 151-171. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/14681811.2017.1410699

Committee on Social Change and the Education of Women. (1975). Girls, school and society: Report by a study group to the Schools Commission. Canberra, Australia: Schools Commission.

Connell, R. (1977). Ruling class, ruling culture: Studies of conflict, power and hegemony in Australian life. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.

Connell, R. (1987). Gender and power: Society, the person and sexual politics. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press.

Connell, R. (1995). Masculinities. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.

Connell, R. (1996). Teaching the boys: new research on masculinity and gender strategies for schools. Teachers College Record, 98, 206-235.

Connell, R. (2000). The men and the boys. St Leonards, Australia: Allen & Unwin.

Connell, R. (2002). Gender. Cambridge, England: Polity Press.

Connell, R. (2005). Growing up masculine: rethinking the significance of adolescence in the making of masculinities. Irish Journal of Sociology, 14(2), 11-28.

Connell, R. (2008). Masculinity construction and sports in boys' education: A framework for thinking about the issue. Sport, Education and Society, 13(2), 131-145. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/13573320801957053

Connell, R. (2009). Gender (2nd ed.). Cambridge, England: Polity Press.

Connell, R. (2016). The social organization of masculinity. In C. J. Pascoe & T. Bridges (Eds.), Exploring masculinities: Identity, inequality, continuity, and change (pp. 136-144). New York, NY: Oxford University Press.

Connell, R., Ashenden, D., Kessler, S., & Dowsett, G. (1982). Making the difference: Schools, families and social division. Sydney, Australia: Allen & Unwin.

240

Connell, R., & Messerschmidt, J. W. (2005). Hegemonic masculinity: Rethinking the concept. Gender and Society, 19(6), 829-859. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/0891243205278639

Connell, R., & Pearse, R. (2015). Gender (3rd ed.). Cambridge, England: Polity Press.

Connelly, K., & Heesacker, M. (2012). Why is benevolent sexism appealing? Associations with system justification and life satisfaction. Psychology of Women Quarterly, 36(4), 432-443. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/0361684312456369

Cookson, P., & Persell, C. (1985). Preparing for power: America’s elite boarding schools. New York, NY: Basic Books.

Costa, A. L., & Kallick, B. (1993). Through the lens of a critical friend. Educational Leadership, 51(2), 49-51.

Crawford, R. (1981). A history of physical education in Victoria and New South Wales 1872-1939, with particular reference to English precedent. (Unpublished Ph.D.), La Trobe University, Melbourne, Australia.

Crenshaw, K. (1989). Demarginalizing the intersection of race and sex: A black feminist critique of antidiscrimination doctrine, feminist theory and antiracist politics. The University of Chicago Legal Forum, 1989(1).

Crotty, M. (1998). The foundations of social research: Meaning and perspective in the research process. London, England: Sage.

Crotty, M. (1999). Making the Australian male: The construction of manly middle-class youth in Australia, 1870-1920. (PhD), The University of Melbourne, Melbourne, Australia.

Crotty, M. (2000). Manly and moral: The making of middle class men in the Australian public school. The International Journal of the History of Sport, 17(2/3), 10-30. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/09523360008714125

Delamont, S. (2002). Fieldwork in educational settings: Methods, pitfalls and perspectives. London and New York: Routledge.

241

Delamont, S., & Atkinson, P. (1995). Fighting familiarity: Essays on education and ethnography. Cresskill, NJ: Hampton Press.

Denzin, N. K. (2001). The reflexive interview and a performative social science. Qualitative Research, 1(1), 23-46.

Denzin, N. K., & Lincoln, Y. S. (2005). Introduction: The discipline and practice of qualitative research. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), The sage handbook of qualitative research (3rd ed., pp. 1-32). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Denzin, N. K., & Lincoln, Y. S. (Eds.). (2011). Handbook of qualitative research (4th ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications.

DePalma, R., & Atkinson, E. (2010). The nature of institutional heteronormativity in primary schools and practice-based responses. Teaching and Teacher Education, 26(8), 1669-1676. doi:https://doi.org/10.1016/j.tate.2010.06.018

DePalma, R., & Jennett, M. (2010). Homophobia, transphobia and culture: deconstructing heteronormativity in English primary schools. Intercultural Education, 21(1), 15-26. doi:https://doi- org.ezproxy1.library.usyd.edu.au/10.1080/14675980903491858

Deutsch, N. L. (2004). Positionality and the pen: Reflections on the process of becoming a feminist researcher and writer. Qualitative Inquiry, 10(6), 885-902. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/1077800404265723

Drummond, M. (2011). Reflections on the archetypal heterosexual male body. Australian Feminist Studies, 26(67), 103-117. doi:https://doi- org.ezproxy1.library.usyd.edu.au/10.1080/08164649.2011.546331

Duncan, N., & Owens, L. (2011). Bullying, social power and heteronormativity: Girls’ constructions of popularity. Children and Society, 25(4), 306-316. doi:https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1099-0860.2011.00378.x

Emerson, R. M., & Fretz, R. I. (2011). Writing ethnographic fieldnotes (2nd ed.). Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

Epstein, D., & Johnson, R. (1998). Schooling sexualities. Buckingham, England: Open University Press.

242

Erikson, E. (1959/1980). Identity and the life cycle. New York, NY: W. W. Norton.

Etherington, K. (2007). Ethical research in reflexive relationships. Qualitative Inquiry, 13(5), 599-616. doi:https://doi- org.ezproxy1.library.usyd.edu.au/10.1177/1077800407301175

Evans, J. (2014). Neoliberalism and the future for a socio-educative physical education. Physical Education and Sport Pedagogy, 19(5), 545-558. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/17408989.2013.817010

Evans, J., Davies, B., & Penney, D. (1996). Teachers, teaching and the social construction of gender relations. Sport, Education and Society, 1(2), 165-184. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/1357332960010203

Ferfolja, T. (2005). Institutional silence: Experiences of Australian lesbian teachers working in Catholic high schools. Journal of Gay and Lesbian Issues in Education, 2(3), 51-66. doi:https://doi- org.ezproxy1.library.usyd.edu.au/10.1300/J367v02n03_05

Ferfolja, T. (2007). Schooling cultures: institutionalizing heteronormativity and heterosexism. International Journal of Inclusive Education, 11(2), 147-162. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/13603110500296596

Ferfolja, T. (2008). Discourses that silence: Teachers and anti-lesbian harrassment. Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, 29(1), 107-119. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/01596300701802805

Fields, J. (2008). Risky lessons: Sex education and social inequality. New Brunswick, Canada: Rutgers University Press.

Fine, M. (1994). Working the hyphens: Reinventing self and other in qualitative research. In N. Denzin & Y. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (pp. 70-82). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Fine, M. (2003). Sexuality, schooling, and adolescent females: The missing discourse of desrie. In M. Fine & L. Weis (Eds.), Silenced voices and extraordinary conversations: Re-imagining schools New York, NY: Teachers College Press.

Fine, M., & Weis, L. (2003). Silenced voices and extraordinary conversations: Re- imagining schools. New York, NY: Teachers College Press. 243

Fine, M., Weis, L., Weseen, S., & Wong, L. (2000). For whom? Qualitative research, representations and social responsibilities. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (2nd ed., pp. 107-131). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications.

Finkelstein, J., & Goodwin, S. (2005). The sociological bent: Inside metro culture. Southbank, Australia: Thomson Learning.

Fitzpatrick, K. (2010). Stop playing up! A critical ethnography of health, physical education and (sub)urban schooling. (PhD), University of Waikato, Hamilton, New Zealand.

Fitzpatrick, K. (2013). Critical pedagogy, physical education and urban schooling. New York, NY: Peter Lang.

Fitzpatrick, K., & Burrows, L. (2017). Critical health education in Aotearoa New Zealand. Sport, Education and Society, 22(5), 552-568. doi:https://doi- org.ezproxy1.library.usyd.edu.au/10.1080/13573322.2015.1131154

Flintoff, A., & Scraton, S. (2006). Girls and physical education. In D. Kirk, D. Macdonald, & M. O’Sullivan (Eds.), Handbook of physical education. London, England: Sage.

Flood, M. (2017). What’s the role of men in ending patriarchy? Retrieved from https://xyonline.net/content/whats-role-men-ending-patriarchy

Foley, D. (2002). Critical ethnography: the reflexive turn. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 15(4), 469-490. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/09518390210145534

Forbes, J., & Weiner, G. (2014). Gender power in elite schools: methodological insights from researcher reflexive accounts. Research Papers in Education, 29(2), 172- 192. doi:ttps://doi.org/10.1080/02671522.2013.767369

Francis, B., & Skelton, C. (2001). Men teachers and the construction of heterosexual masculinity in the classroom. Sex Education, 1(1), 9-21. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/14681810120041689

244

Fulcher, K. (2017). That’s so homophobic? Australian young people’s perspectives on homophobic language use in secondary schools. Sex Education, 17(3), 290-301. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/14681811.2016.1275541

Gard, M., & Meyen, R. (2000). Boys, bodies, pleasure and pain: Interrogating contact sports in schools. Sport, Education and Society, 5(1), 19-34.

Gaztambide-Fernández, R. A. (2009). The best of the best: Becoming elite at an American boarding school. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Gaztambide-Fernández, R. A., Cairns, K., & Desai, C. (2013). The sense of entitlement. In C. Maxwell & P. Aggleton (Eds.), Privilege, agency and affect (pp. 32-49). Basingstoke, England: Palgrave Macmillan.

Gaztambide-Fernández, R. A., & Howard, A. (2010a). Conclusion: Outlining a research agenda on elite education. In R. A. Gaztambide-Fernandez & A. Howard (Eds.), Educating elites: Class privilege and educational advantage (pp. 195-209). Maryland, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Education.

Gaztambide-Fernández, R. A., & Howard, A. (2010b). Introduction: Why study up? In A. Howard & R. A. Gaztambide-Fernandez (Eds.), Educating elites: Class privilege and education advantage (pp. 1-12). Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield Education.

Gaztambide-Fernández, R. A., & Howard, A. (2012). Access, status, and representation: Reflections from two ethnographic studies of elite schools. Anthropology & Education Quarterly, 43(3), 289-305. doi: https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1548-1492.2012.01181.x

Gerdin, G. (2014). Boys will be boys? Gendered bodies, spaces and dis/pleasures in Physical Education. (PhD), The University of Auckland.

Giampapa, F. (2011). The politics of "being and becoming" a researcher: Identity, power, and negotiating the field. Journal of Language, Identity and Education, 10(3), 132-144. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/15348458.2011.585304

Gilbert, R., & Gilbert, P. (1998). Masculinity goes to school. London, England: Routledge.

245

Gilding, M. (2004). Superwealth in Australia: Entrepreneurs, accumulation and the capitalist class. In N. Hollier (Ed.), Ruling Australia: The power, privilege and politics of the new ruling class. Melbourne, Australia: Australian Scholarly Publishing.

Glass, R. (1964). London: Aspects of change. London, England: MacGibbon and Kee.

Glick, P., & Fiske, S. T. (1996). The Ambivalent Sexism Inventory: Differentiating hostile and benevolent sexism. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 70(3), 491-512. doi:http://dx.doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.70.3.491

Glick, P., & Fiske, S. T. (2011). Ambivalent sexism revisited. Psychology of Women Quarterly, 35(3), 530-535. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/0361684311414832

Goffman, E. (1977). The arrangement between the sexes. Theory and Society, 4(3), 301-331.

Goodwin, S., & Phillips, R. (2011). Researching the researchers: Policy research in non-government organisations in the human services sector. Sydney, Australia: The University of Sydney.

Goodwin, S., & Proctor, H. (2019). Introduction: Social justice talk and social justice practices in the contemporary university. In K. Freebody, S. Goodwin, & H. Proctor (Eds.), Higher Education, pedagogy and social justice: Politics and practice (pp. 1-20): Palgrave Macmillan.

Gottschall, K., Wardman, N., Edgeworth, K., Hutchesson, R., & Saltmarsh, S. (2010). Hard lines and soft scenes: Constituting masculinities in the prospectuses of all- boys elite private schools. Australian Journal of Education, 54(1), 18-30. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/000494411005400103

Gough, B. (2018). Contemporary masculinities: Embodiment, emotion and wellbeing. Basingstoke, England: Palgrave Macmillan.

Grace, G. (2002). Catholic schools: Mission, markets and morality. London, England: Routledge.

Grauerholz, L., Barringer, M., Colyer, T., Guittar, N., Hecht, J., Rayburn, R. L., & Swart, E. (2012). Attraction in the field: What we need to acknowledge and

246

implications for research and teaching. Qualitative Inquiry, 19(3), 167-178. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/1077800412466222

Grogan, S. (2008). Body image: Understanding body dissatisfaction in men, women and children. East Sussex, England: Routledge.

Gullestad, M. (1992). The art of social relations: Essays on culture, social action and everyday life in modern Norway. Oslo, Norway: Scandinavian University Press.

Gurney, J. N. (1985). Not one of the guys: The female researcher in a male-dominated setting. Qualitative Sociology, 8(1), 42-62. doi:https://doi.org/10.1007/BF00987013

Hansot, E., & Tyack, D. (1988). Gender in American public schools: Thinking institutionally. Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society, 13(4), 741-760. doi:https://doi.org/10.1086/494466

Hartman, D. K. (2014). Educating boys: What’s your problem? A field and discourse analysis of boys’ education in Australia from 1996 to 2006. (PhD), The University of Newcastle, Newcastle, Australia.

Hawkes, T. (2001). Boy oh boy: How to raise and educate boys. Sydney, Australia: Pearson Education.

Haywood, C., & Mac an Ghaill, M. (1996). Schooling masculinities. In M. Mac an Ghaill (Ed.), Understanding masculinities Buckingham, England: Open University Press

Hemmings, A. (2009). Ethnographic research with adolescent students: Situated fieldwork ethics and ethical principles governing human research. Journal of Empirical Research on Human Research Ethics: An International Journal, 4(4), 27-38. doi:https://doi.org/10.1525/jer.2009.4.4.27

Heward, C. (1988). Making a man of him: Parents and their son's careers at an English public school 1929-1950. London, England: Routledge.

Heward, C. (1990). Like father, like son: Parental models and influences in the making of masculinity at an English public school. Women's Studies International Forum, 13(139-149). doi:https://doi.org/10.1016/0277-5395(90)90080-H

247

Hickey, C. (2008). Physical Education, sport and hyper-masculinity in schools. Sport, Education and Society, 13(2), 147-161. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/13573320801957061

Hickey, C. (2010). Hypermasculinity in schools: The good, the bad and the ugly. In M. O'Sullivan & A. MacPhail (Eds.), Young people's voices in physical education and youth sport. Abingdon, England: Routledge.

Hickey, C., & Mooney, A. (2018). Challenging the pervasiveness of hypermasculinity and heteronormativity in an all-boys’ school. Australian Education Researcher, 45(2), 237-253. doi:https://doi.org/10.1007/s13384-017-0249-4

Hilton, G. L. S. (2003). Listening to the boys: English boys’ views on the desirable characteristics of teachers of sex education. Sex Education, 3(1), 33-45. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/1468181032000052144

Hoffman, J. E. (1980). Problems of access in the study of social elites and boards of directors. In W. Shaffir, R. A. Stebbins, & A. Turowetz (Eds.), Fieldwork experience: Qualitative approaches to social research. New York, NY: St. Martin’s.

Holmes, C. A., & Smyth, W. (2011). Carspecken's critical methodology- A theoretical assessment. International Journal of Multiple Research Approaches, 5(2), 146- 154. doi:https://doi.org/10.5172/mra.2011.5.2.146

Horn, R. (1997). Not 'one of the boys': Women researching the police. Journal of Gender Studies, 6(3), 297-308. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/09589236.1997.9960690

Howard, A. (2008). Learning privilege: Lessons of power and identity in affluent schooling. New York, NY: Routledge.

Howard, A., Polimeno, A., & Wheeler, B. (2014). Making privilege visible. In A. Howard, A. Polimeno, & B. Wheeler (Eds.), Negotiating privilege and identity in educationak contexts (pp. 1-19). New York, NY: Routledge.

Hughes, M. (2006). Queer ageing. Gay and Lesbian Issues and Psychology Review, 2(2), 54-59. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/13676260902902689

248

Imms, W. (2007). Boys engaging masculinities. Journal of Interdisciplinary Gender Studies, 10(2), 30-45.

Jachyra, P. (2014). Exploring mechanisms of (dis)engagement in health and physical education class with adolescent boys. (M.Sc.), University of Toronto, Canada.

Jachyra, P., Atkinson, M., & Gibson, B. (2014). Gender performativity during interviews with adolescent boys. Qualitative Research in Sport, Exercise and Health, 6(4), 568-582. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/17457823.2015.1018290

Jachyra, P., Atkinson, M., & Washiya, Y. (2015). 'Who are you and what are you doing here': Methodological considerations in ethnographic health and physical education research. Ethnography and Education, 10(2), 242-261. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/17457823.2015.1018290

Jackson, P. W. (1968). Life in classrooms. New York, NY: Holt Rinehart & Winston.

Jackson, S. (2018). Why “heteronormativity” is not enough. In J. W. Messerschmidt, P. Y. Martin, M. A. Messner, & R. Connell (Eds.), Gender reckonings: New social theory and research. New York: New York University Press.

Jenkings, P., & Sherington, G. (1995). The construction of citizenship education in Australia: Sir Richard Boyer and the role of the ABC. Paper presented at the Australian Association for Research in Education (AARE) conference, Hobart. Retrieved from https://www.aare.edu.au/data/publications/1995/jenkp95476.pdf

Jha, P. (2016, April 19). On a pedestal. Honi Soit. Retrieved from https://honisoit.com/2016/04/on-a-pedestal/

Jones, A. (1991). At school I’ve got a chance. Palmerston North, New Zealand: Dunmore Press.

Jordan, S., & Yeomans, D. (1995). Critical ethnography: Problems in contemporary theory and practice. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 16(3), 389-408. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/0142569950160307

Keddie, A., & Mills, M. (2007). Teaching boys and gender justice. International Journal of Inclusive Education, 11(3), 335-354. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/13603110701238785 249

Kehily, M. J. (2005). Sexuality, gender and schooling: Shifting agendas in social learning. London: RoutledgeFalmer.

Kehler, M., & Martino, W. (2007). Questioning masculinities: Interrogating boys' capactities for self-problematization in schools. Canadian Journal of Education, 30(1), 90-112. doi:10.2307/20466627

Kelly, A. (2009). In defence of anonymity: rejoining the criticism. British Educational Research Journal, 35(3), 431-445. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/01411920802044438

Kendall, N. (2013). The sex education debates. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

Khan, S. R. (2011). Privilege: The making of an adolescent elite at St. Paul's school. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Kimmel, M. (1990). After fifteen years: The impact of sociology of masculinity on the masculinity of sociology. In H. Brod & D. Morgan (Eds.), Men, masculinities and social theory (pp. 93-109). London, England: Unwin Hyman.

Kimmel, M. (1994). Masculinity as homophobia: Fear, shame, and silence in the construction of gender identity. In H. Brod & M. Kaufman (Eds.), Theorizing masculinities (pp. 119-142). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Kimmel, M. (2010). Introduction: Toward a pedagogy of the oppressor. In M. Kimmel & A. Ferber (Eds.), Privilege: A reader (2nd ed., pp. 1-10). Boulder, CO: Westview Press.

Kimmel, M. (2012). Manhood in America: A cultural history (3rd ed ed.). New York, NY: Oxford University Press.

Kimmel, M. (2018). Raise your son to be a good man, not a ‘real’ man. The Cut. Retrieved from The Cut website: https://www.thecut.com/2018/03/teaching- our-sons-to-be-good-men.html

Kingston College. (2017). From the headmaster. Retrieved from https://www.kingston.nsw.edu.au/why-kingston/from-the-headmaster

250

Kirk, D. (1992). Physical education, discourse, and ideology: Bringing the hidden curriculum into view. Quest, 44(1), 35-56. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/00336297.1992.10484040

Kirk, D. (2010). Physical education futures. London, England: Routledge.

Kirk, D., & Spiller, B. (1994). Schooling the docile body: Physical education, schooling and the myth of oppression. Australian Journal of Education, 38(1), 78-95. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/000494419403800105

Koh, A., & Kenway, J. (2016). Introduction: Reading the dynamics of educational privilege through a spacial lens. In A. Koh & J. Kenway (Eds.), Elite schools: Multiple geographies of privilege (pp. 1-17). New York, NY: Routledge.

Kohn, A. (1992). No contest: The case against competition (revised ed.). New York: Houghton Mifflin Company.

Kumashiro, K. (2002). Troubling education: Queer activism and antioppressive pedagogy. New York, NY: Routledge.

Kvale, S. (1996). InterViews: An introduction to qualitative research interviewing. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Lather, P. (1986). Research as praxis. Harvard Educational Review, 56(3), 257-278. doi:https://doi.org/10.17763/haer.56.3.bj2h231877069482

Leahy, D., Burrows, L., McCuaig, L., Wright, J., & Penney, D. (2016). Schooling health education in changing times: curriculum, pedagogies and partnerships. New York, NY: Routledge.

Leahy, D., & McCuaig, L. (2013). Supporting teachers to teach relationships and sexuality education: FPQ workforce development project (Scoping Paper). Brisbane: UQ.

Light, R. (2000). From the profrane to the sacred: Pre-game ritual in Japanese high school rugby. International Review for the Sociology of Sport, 35(4), 51-63. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/101269000035004001

251

Light, R., & Kirk, D. (2000). High school rugby, the body and the reproduction of hegemonic masculinity. Sport, Education and Society, 5(2), 163-176. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/713696032

Lincoln, Y., Lynham, S., & Guba, E. (2011). Paradigmatic controversies, contradictions, and emergeing confluences, revisited. In N. Denzin & Y. Lincoln (Eds.), The sage handbook of qualitative research (4th Ed ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Lingard, B., & Douglas, P. (1999). Men engaging feminisms. Buckingham, England: Open University Press.

Lingard, B., Martino, W., & Mills, M. (2009). Boys and schooling: Beyond structural reform. London, England: Palgrave.

Lingard, B., Martino, W., Mills, M., & Bahr, M. (2002). Addressing the educational needs of boys. Canberra, Australia: Department of Education, Science and Training.

Lingard, B., Mills, M., & Weaver-Hightower, M. B. (2012). Interrogating recuperative masculinity politics in schooling. International Journal of Inclusive Education, 16(4), 407-421. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/13603116.2011.555095

Luke, A. (1995). Text and discourse in education: An introduction to critical discourse analysis. Review of Research in Education, 21, 3-48. doi:https://doi.org/10.3102/0091732X021001003

Mac an Ghaill, M. (1994). The making of men: Masculinities, sexualities and schooling. Buckingham, England: Open University Press.

Mac an Ghaill, M. (Ed.) (1991). Young, gifted and black: Methodological reflections of a teacher/researcher. London, England: Routledge.

Madrid, S. (2013). The formation of ruling class men: Private schooling, class and gender relations in contemporary Chile. (PhD), University of Sydney, Sydney, Australia.

Mandell, N. (1988). The least-adult role in studying children. Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 16(4), 433-467. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/0891241688164002

252

Mangan, J. A. (1981). Athleticism in the Victorian and Edwardian public school. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.

Marcus, G. (1998). Ethnography through thick and thin. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Marginson, S. (1999). The enterprise university comes to Australia. Paper presented at the Annual conference of the Australian Association for Research in Education, Melbourne, Australia.

Markula, P., & Pringle, R. (2006). Foucault, sport and exercise: Power, knowledge and transforming the self. London, England: Routledge.

Martino, W. (1999). 'Cool boys', 'party animals', 'squids' and 'poofters': Interrogating the dynamics and politics of adolescent masculinities in school. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 20(2), 239-263.

Martino, W. (2000). Policing masculinities: Investigating the role of homophobia and heteronormativity in the lives of adolescent school boys. The Journal of Men’s Studies, 8(2), 213-236. doi:https://doi.org/10.3149/jms.0802.213

Martino, W., Kehler, M., & Weaver-Hightower, M. B. (Eds.). (2009). The problem with boys’ education: Beyond the backlash. New York, NY: Routledge.

Martino, W., & Pallotta- Chiarolli, M. (2003). So what's a boy: Addressing issues of masculinity and schooling. Philadelphia, PA: Open University Press.

Maxwell, C., & Aggleton, P. (2015). Researching elite education: affectively inferred belongings, desires and exclusions. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 28(9), 1065-1080. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/09518398.2015.1074751

McCorkel, J., & Myers, K. (2003). What difference does difference make? Position and privilege in the field. Qualitative Sociology, 26(2), 199-231.

McCormack, M. (2012). The declining significance of homophobia: How teenage boys are redefining masculinity and heterosexuality. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.

253

McCormack, M. (2014). The intersection of youth masculinities, decreasing homophobia and class: an ethnography. The British Journal of Sociology, 65(1), 130-149. doi:https://doi.org/10.1111/1468-4446.12055

McKinney, C. L. (2014). SexEd: Pedagogy, pornography, precocity, and adolescent sexual subjectivity. (PhD), University of California, San Diego, CA.

Measor, L., Miller, K., & Tiffin, C. (2000). Young people’s views on sex education: Education, attitudes and behaviour. New York, NY: Routledge.

Mercader, P., Weber, R., & Durif-Varembont, J.-P. (2015). To perceive and to be perceived: challenges of ethnography in elite schools. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 28(9), 1097-1111. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/09518398.2015.1074753

Merriam, S. B., & Tisdell, E. J. (2009). Qualitative research: a guide to design and implementation (4th Ed ed.). San Francisco, CA: Jossey- Bass.

Messerschmidt, J. W. (2016). Masculinities in the making: From the local to global. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield.

Messerschmidt, J. W., Martin, P. Y., Messner, M. A., & Connell, R. (2018). Introduction. In J. W. Messerschmidt, P. Y. Martin, M. A. Messner, & R. Connell (Eds.), Gender reckonings: New social theory and research. New York, NY: New York University Press.

Messerschmidt, J. W., & Messner, M. A. (2018). Hegemonic, nonhegemonic, and “new” masculinities. In J. W. Messerschmidt, P. Y. Martin, M. A. Messner, & R. Connell (Eds.), Gender reckonings: New social theory and research. New York: New York University Press.

Messner, M. A. (1990). Boyhood, organised sports, and the construction of masculinities. Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 18(4), 416-444. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/089124190018004003

Messner, M. A. (1990). When bodies are weapons: Masculinity and violence in sport. International Review for the Sociology of Sport, 25(3), 203-220. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/101269029002500303

254

Messner, M. A. (2002). Taking the field: Women, men, and sport Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press.

Messner, M. A. (2011). Gender ideologies, youth sports, and the production of soft essentialism. Sociology of Sport, 28, 151-170. doi:https://doi.org/10.1123/ssj.28.2.151

Messner, M. A., & Sabo, D. F. (1990). Sport, men, and the gender order: Critical feminist perspectives. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics Publishers.

Migdalek, J. (2015). The embodied performance of gender. New York, NY: Routledge.

Mills, C. W. (1956). The power elite. London, England: Oxford University Press.

Mooney, A., & Hickey, C. (2012). Negotiating masculine hegemony: female physical educators in an all-boys' school. Asia- Pacific Journal of Health, Sport and Physical Education, 3(3), 199-212. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/18377122.2012.721726

Morgan, D. (1994). Theatre of war: Combat, the military and masculinites. In H. Brod & M. Kaufman (Eds.), Theorizing masculinities (pp. 165-182). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Morgan, D. (2005). Class and masculinity. In M. Kimmel, J. Hearn, & R. Connell (Eds.), Handbook of studies on men and masculinities (pp. 165-177). Thousand Oaks, California: Sage.

Morrell, R. (1994). Masculinity and white boys' boarding schools of Natal, 1880-1930. Perspectives in Education, 15(1), 27-52. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/1097184X14539964

Morris-Roberts, K. (2004). Colluding in “compulsory heterosexuality”? Doing research with young women at school. In A. Harris (Ed.), All about the girl: Culture, power and identity (pp. 219-230). London, England: Routledge.

Morrison, T., & Halton, M. (2009). Buff, tough, and rough: Representations of muscularity in action motion pictures. Journal of Men’s Studies, 17(1), 57-74. doi:http://dx.doi.org.ezproxy1.library.usyd.edu.au/10.3149/jms.1701.57

255

Nader, L. (1974). Up the anthropologist: Perspectives gained from studying up. In D. Hymes (Ed.), Reinventing anthropology (pp. 284-311). New York, NY: Vintage.

Nespor, J. (2000). Anonymity and place in qualitative inquiry. Qualitative Inquiry, 6(4), 546-569.

O’Flynn, G., & Lee, J. (2010). Committed young men and well-balanced young women: Private schooling, physical activity and the classed seld. In J. Wright & D. Macdonald (Eds.), Young people, physical activity and the everyday (pp. 71-86). Abingdon, England: Routledge.

Ollis, D. (2017). The power of feminist pedagogy in Australia: vagina shorts and the primary prevention of violence against women. Gender and Education, 29(4), 461-475. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/09540253.2017.1321737

Pallotta- Chiarolli, M. (1990). The female stranger in a male school. Gender and Education, 2(2), 169-184.

Pang, B. (2016). Conducting research with young Chinese-Australian students in health and physical education and physical activity: epistemology, positionality and methodologies. Sport, Education and Society. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/13573322.2016.1242065

Parameswaran, R. (2001). Feminist media ethnography in India: Exploring power, gender, and culture in the field. Qualitative Inquiry, 7(1), 69-103.

Parker, A. (1996). The construction of masculinity within boys' physical education. Gender and Education, 8(2), 141-158.

Pascoe, C. J. (2006). Dude, you're a fag: Masculinity in high school. (PhD), University of California.

Pascoe, C. J. (2007). "What if a guy hits on you?" Intersections of gender, sexuality and age in fieldwork with adolescents. In A. L. Best (Ed.), Representing youth: Methodological issues in critical youth studies (pp. 226-247). New York, NY: New York University Press.

Pascoe, C. J. (2012). Dude, you’re a fag: Masculinity and sexuality in high school. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. 256

Pascoe, C. J., & Bridges, T. (2016). Exploring masculinities: History, reproduction, hegemony, and dislocation. In C. J. Pascoe & T. Bridges (Eds.), Exploring masculinities: Identity, inequality, continuity, and change. New York, NY: Oxford Univeristy Press.

Pease, B. (2010). Undoing privilege: Unearned advantage in a divided world. London, England: Zed Books Ltd.

Pease, B. (2013). Epistemology, methodology and accountability. In B. Pini & B. Pease (Eds.), Men, masculinities and methodologies. Basingstoke, England: Palgrave Macmillan.

Pellegrini, A. (1992). S(h)ifting the terms of hetero/sexism: gender, power, homophobias. In W. J. Blumenfeld (Ed.), Homophobia. How we all pay the price. Boston, MA: Beacon.

Penney, D. (Ed.) (2002). Gender and physical education: Contemporary issues and future directions. London, England: Routledge.

Perrone, D. (2010). Gender and sexuality in the field: A female ethnographer's experience researching drug use in dance clubs. Substance Use and Misuse, 45, 717-735. doi:https://doi.org/10.3109/10826081003595127

Peshkin, A. (2001). Permissable advantage? The moral consequences of elite schooling. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.

Phillips, M., & Roper, A. (2006). History of physical education. In D. Kirk, M. O’Sullivan, & D. Macdonald (Eds.), The handbook of physical education (pp. 123-140). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Pini, B. (2005). Interviewing men: Gender and the collection and interpretation of qualitative data. Journal of Sociology, 41(2), 201-216. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/1440783305053238

Pope, H. G., Phillips, K., & Olivardia, R. (2000). The Adonis complex: The secret crisis of male body obsession. New York: Free Press (Simon & Schuster).

Popkewitz, T. S. (1997). The production of reason and power: Curriculum history and intellectual traditions. Curriculum Studies, 29(2), 131-164. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/002202797184107 257

Poynting, S., & Donaldson, M. (2005). Snakes and leaders: Hegemonic masculinity in ruling-class boys’ boarding schools. Men and Masculinities, 7(4), 325-346. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/1097184X03260968

Pringle, R. (2008). ‘No rugby- no fear’: collective stories, masculinities and transformative possibilities in schools. Sport, Education and Society, 13(2), 215-237. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/13573320801957103

Proctor, H. (2011). Masculinity and social class, tradition and change: The production of ‘young Christian gentlemen’ at an elite Australian boys’ school. Gender and Education, 23(7), 843-856. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/09540253.2010.549114

Prosser, H. (2016). The economy of eliteness: Consuming educational advantage. In A. Koh & J. Kenway (Eds.), Elite schools: Multiple geographies of privilege. New York, NY: Routledge.

Proweller, A. (1999). Shifting identities in private education: Reconstructing race at/in the cultural center. Teachers College Record, 100, 776-808.

Purdy, L., & Jones, R. (2013). Changing personas and evolving identities: the contestation and renegotiation of researcher roles in fieldwork. Sport, Education and Society, 18(3), 292-310. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/13573322.2011.586688

Quantz, R. (1999). School ritual as performance: A reconstruction of Durkheim's and Turner's uses of ritual. Educational Theory, 49(4), 493-513. doi:https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1741-5446.1999.00493.x

Quinn, B. A. (2002). Sexual harrassment and masculinity: The power and meaning of ‘girl watching’. Gender and Society, 16(3), 386-402. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/0891243202016003007

Ramazanoglu, C., & Holland, J. (2002). Feminist methodology: Challenges and choices. London, England: Sage.

Rasmussen, M. L. (2004). Wounded identities, sex and pleasure: “Doing it” at school. NOT! Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, 25(4), 445-458. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/0159630042000290946

258

Rawlings, V. (2017). Gender regulation, violence and social hierarchies in school: ‘sluts’, ‘gays’ and ‘scrubs’. London, England: Palgrave Macmillan.

Reichert, M. C. (2000). Disturbances of difference: Lessons from a boys school. In L. Weis & M. Fine (Eds.), Construction sites: Excavating race, class, and gender among urban youth (pp. 259-273). New York, NY: Teachers College Press.

Renold, E. (2000). ‘Coming out’: Gender, (hetero)sexuality and the primary school. Gender and Education, 12(3), 309-326. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/713668299

Renold, E. (2003). ‘If you don’t kiss me, you’re dumped’: Boys, boyfriends and heterosexualised masculinities in the primary school. Educational Review, 55(2), 179-194. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/0013191032000072218

Renold, E. (2005). Girls, boys and junior sexualities: exploring children’s gender and sexual relations in the primary school. London, England: RoutledgeFalmer.

Renold, E. (2006). ‘They won’t let us play… unless you’re going out with one of them’: girls, boys and Butler’s ‘heterosexual matrix’ in the primary years. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 27(4), 489-509. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/01425690600803111

Renold, E., & Ringrose, J. (2008). Regulation and rupture: Mapping tween and teenage girls’ resistance to the heterosexual matrix. Feminist Theory, 9(3), 313-338. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/1464700108095854

Ricciardelli, L. A., McCabe, M. P., & Ridge, D. (2006). The construction of the adolescent male body through sport. Journal of Health Psychology, 11(4), 577- 587. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/1359105306065018

Rich, A. (1980). Complusory heterosexuality and lesbian existence. Signs, 5(4), 631- 660.

Ronholt, H. (2002). 'It's only the sissies...': Analysis of teaching and learning processes in physical education: A contribution to the hidden curriculum. Sport, Education and Society, 7(1), 25-36. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/13573320120113558

259

Røthing, Å. (2008). Homotolerance and heteronormativity in Norwegian classrooms. Gender and Education, 20(3), 253-266. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/09540250802000405

Rumens, N., & Ozturk, M. B. (2019). Heteronormativity and the (re)construction of gay male entrepreneurial identities. International Small Business Journal: Researching Entrepreneurship, 37(7), 671-688. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177%2F0266242619846609

Russell, L. (2005). It's a question of trust: Balancing the relationship between students and teachers in ethnographic fieldwork. Qualitative Research, 5(2), 181-199. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/1468794105050834

Sallee, M. W., & Harris III, F. (2011). Gender performance in qualitative studies of masculinities. Qualitative Research, 11(4), 409-429. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/1468794111404322

Saltmarsh, S. (2007). Cultural complicities: Elitism, heteronormativity and violence in the education marketplace. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 20(3), 335-354. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/09518390701281934

Sanjakdar, F., Allen, L., Rasmussen, M. L., Quinlivan, K., Brömdal, A., & Aspin, C. (2015). In search of critical pedagogy in sexuality education: Visions, imaginations, and paradoxes. Review of Education, Pedagogy, and Cultural Studies, 37(1), 53-70. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/10714413.2015.988537

Scheper-Hughes, N. (2000). Ire in Ireland. Ethnography, 1(1), 117-140.

Schrock, D., & Schwalbe, M. L. (2009). Men, masculinity, and manhood acts. Annual Review of Sociology, 35, 277-295. doi:http://dx.doi.org/10.1146/annurev-soc- 070308-115933

Sears, J. T. (Ed.) (1992). Sexuality and the curriculum: The politics and practices of sexuality education. New York: Teachers College Press.

Seddon, T. (1983). The hidden curriculum: An overview. Curriculum Perspectives, 9(4), 1-16.

Sedensky, M. (2018). Academic efforts to decode men gain steam in time of #MeToo. Retrieved from https://www.usnews.com/news/best- 260

states/california/articles/2018-03-14/academic-efforts-to-decode-men-gain- steam-in-time-of-metoo

Sheppard, J., & Biddle, N. (2017). Class, capital, and identity in Australian society. Australian Journal of Political Science, 52(4), 500-516. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/1097184X14539964

Sherington, G. (1983). Athleticism in the Antipodes: The AAGPS of New South Wales. History of Education Review, 12, 16-28.

Shilling, C. (2003). The body and social theory. London, England: Sage.

Smart, C. (1989). Feminism and the power of law. London, England: Routledge.

Smartt Guillon, J. (2016). Writing ethnography. Rotterdam, Netherlands: Sense Publishers.

Smiler, A. P. (2012). Challening casanova: Beyond the stereotype of the promiscuous young male. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.

Spanger, M. (2012). "You see how good-looking Lee Ann is!" Establishing field relations through gendered and racialised bodily practices. Qualitative Studies, 3(2), 150-162.

Sparks, A. (2002). Autoethnography: Self-indulgence or something more? In A. P. Bochner & C. Ellis (Eds.), Ethnographically speaking: Autoethnography, literature and aesthetics (pp. 209-232). Walnut Creek, CA: Alta Mira Press.

St Leger, L. (2004). What’s the place of schools in promoting health? Are we too optimistic? Health Promotion International, 19(4), 405-408. doi:https://doi.org/10.1093/heapro/dah401

St. Pierre, E. A. (1999). The work of response in ethnography. Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 28(3), 266-287.

Stahl, G. (2016). Relationship-building in research: Gendered identity construction in researcher-participant interaction. In M. R. M. Ward (Ed.), Gender identity and research relationships (pp. 145-165). Bingley, England: Emerald Group Publishing Limited. 261

Stake, R. E. (1995). The art of case study research. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Stich, A. E., & Colyar, J. E. (2015). Thinking relationally about studying ‘up’. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 36(5), 729-746. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/01425692.2013.843954

Stoudt, B. G. (2006). “You’re either in or you’re out”: School violence, peer discipline, and the (re)production of hegemonic masculinity. Men and Masculinities, 8(3), 273-287. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/1097184X05282070

Stoudt, B. G. (2009). The role of language and discourse in the investigation of privilege: Using participatory action research to discuss theory, develop methodology, and interrupt power. Urban Review, 41, 7-28. doi:http://dx.doi.org/10.1007/s11256-008-0093-y

Stoudt, B. G., Kuriloff, P., Reichert, M. C., & Ravitch, S. M. (2010). Educating for hegemony, researching for change: Collaborating with teachers and students to examine bullying at an elite private school. In A. Howard & R. Gaztambide- Fernández (Eds.), Educating elites. Plymouth, United Kingdom: Rowman & Littlefield Education.

Swain, J. (2006). The role of sport in the construction of masculinities in an English independent junior school. Sport, Education and Society, 11(4), 317-335. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/13573320600924841

The Men’s Project, & Flood, M. (2018). The man box: A study on being a young man in Australia. Melbourne, Victoria: Jesuit Social Services.

Theberge, N. (1991). Reflections on the body in the sociology of sport. Quest, 43(2), 123-134. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/00336297.1991.10484017

Thomas, J. (1993). Doing critical ethnography. Newbury Park, CA: Sage.

Tinning, R. (2010). Pedagogy and human movement: Theory, practice, research. London, England: Routledge.

Tinning, R. (2014). Getting which message across? The HPE teacher as health educator. In K. Fitzpatrick & R. Tinning (Eds.), Health education: Critical perspectives. New York, NY: Routledge.

262

Tsolidis, G., & Dobson, I. R. (2006). Single-sex schooling: is it simply a ‘class act’? Gender and Education, 18(2), 213-228. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/09540250500380711

Twine, F. W., & Warren, J. W. (Eds.). (2000). Racing research, researching race methodological dilemmas in critical race studies. New York, NY: New York University Press.

Vainio, A. (2012). Beyond research ethics: Anonymity as ‘ontology’, ‘analysis’ and ‘independence’. Qualitative Research, 13(6), 685-698. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/1468794112459669

Wagle, T., & Cantaffa, D. T. (2008). Working our hyphens: Exploring identity relations in qualitative research. Qualitative Inquiry, 14(1), 135-159. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/1077800407309328

Walford, G. (2005). Research ethical guidelines and anonymity. International Journal of Research and Method in Education, 28(1), 83-93.

Walford, G. (2009). The practice of writing ethnographic fieldnotes. Ethnography and Education, 4(2), 117-130. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/17457820902972713

Waling, A. (2019). Problematising ‘toxic’ and ‘healthy’ masculinity for addressing gender inequalities. Australian Feminist Studies, 34(101), 362-375. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/08164649.2019.1679021

Wang, X. (2013). The construction of researcher-researched relationships in school ethnography: Doing research, participating in the field and reflecting on ethical dilemmas. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 26(7), 763-779. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/09518398.2012.666287

Warren, C. A. B. (1988). Gender issues in field research. Newbury Park, CA: Sage.

Weaver-Hightower, M. B. (2008). The politics of policy in boys’ education: Getting boys’ “right”. New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan.

Webb, L., & Macdonald, D. (2007). Dualing with gender: Teachers' work, careers and leadership in physical education. Gender and Education, 19(4), 491-512. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/09540250701442674

263

Weis, L. (2010). Foreward. In A. Howard & R. A. Gaztambide-Fernández (Eds.), Educating elites: Class privilege and educational advantage (pp. v-xii). Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield Education.

Weis, L., & Fine, M. (1998). Speed bumps: A student-friendly guide to qualitative research. New York: Teachers College Press.

Wellard, I. (2006). Able bodies and sport participation: Social constructions of physical ability for gendered and sexually identified bodies. Sport, Education and Society, 11(2), 105-119. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/13573320600640645

Wellard, I. (2009). Sport, masculinities and the body. New York, NY: Routledge.

Western, J. (1991). Class in Australia: The historical context. In J. Baxter, M. Emmison, & J. Western (Eds.), Class analysis and contemporary Australia (pp. 14-37). South Melbourne, Australia: Macmillan Education AU.

Wetherell, M., & Edley, N. (1999). Negotiating hegemonic masculinity: Imaginary positions and psycho-discursive practices. Feminism and Psychology, 9(3), 335-356. doi:https://doi.org/10.1177/0959353599009003012

White Ribbon Australia. (2019). White ribbon day resources. Retrieved from https://www.whiteribbon.org.au/day/resources/

Whiteford, P. (2014). Australia: Inequality and prosperity and their impacts in a radical welfare state. In B. Nolan, W. Salverda, D. Checchi, I. Marx, A. McKnight, I. György Tóth, & H. G. van de Werfhorst (Eds.), Changing inequalities and societal impacts in rich countries: Thirty countries' experiences (pp. 48-70). Oxford, England: Oxford University Press.

Whitehead, S., & Barrett, F. (2001). The sociology of masculinity. In S. Whitehead & F. Barrett (Eds.), The masculinities reader (pp. 1-26). Malden: MA: Blackwell.

Wilkinson, C. (2016). 'Babe, I like your lipstick': Rethinking researcher personality and appearance. Children's Geographies, 14(1), 115-123. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/14733285.2015.1039370

Williams, C. L., & Heikes, J. E. (1993). The importance of researcher's gender in the in-depth interview: Evidence from two case studies of male nurses. Gender and Society, 7(2), 280-291. 264

Willis, P. (1977). Learning to labor: How working class kids get working class jobs. New York, NY: Columbia University Press.

Wolfe, A. (2003). Invented names, hidden distortions in social science. The Chronicle of Higher Education. Retrieved from https://www.chronicle.com/article/Invented-Names-Hidden/32995

Woody, E. L. (2002). Constructions of masculinity in California’s single-gender academies. In A. Datnow & L. Hubbard (Eds.), Gender policy and practice (pp. 280-303). New York, NY: Routledge.

Youdell, D. (2005). Sex-gender-sexuality: how sex, gender and sexuality constellations are constituted in secondary schools. Gender and Education, 17(3), 249-270.

265