Jane Miller’s School For Women is an in depth exploration of the role of
women in education, in which a broad historical context is comfortably
combined with the author’s personal perspective. It investigates the
development of the female teacher from the archetypal ‘Jane Eyre’
governess to the 1970s feminist, fighting for the right to wear trousers
to work, and of course the modern professional woman, struggling within a
declining educational system.
Miller’s book raises many interesting and provocative points, such as the
cultural paradox that women, whilst being regarded as intellectually
inferior to men, have traditionally been entrusted with the education of
children, and the way in which female teachers are by turns demonised and
canonised by society and the media. Particularly thought provoking is
Miller’s discussion of the stereotypes that hamper women teachers. The
ineffectual, incompetent female and the somehow masculine ‘battleaxe’ are
the most common depictions although they are joined by others, such as the
‘femme-fatale’ teacher, corrupter of innocent schoolboys. The implication
of these prevalent images is clear: women cannot, in the eyes of society,
be both good teachers and ‘acceptable’ representatives of their gender.
In addition to these more universal issues, Miller presents an interesting
and articulate discussion of the gender related problems facing
contemporary educationalists, for example, the growing tendency in our
schools for girls to outshine boys in all subjects. Although she
acknowledges the dominant and ever growing number of women in teaching,
Miller gives little time to the suggestion that there may be a link
between these situations, dismissing it as a paranoid male conspiracy
theory. Perhaps she does so a little hastily, but for the most part, her
writing shows an unbiased commitment to and understanding of the needs of
pupils of both sexes.
Miller’s text is liberally scattered with the first-person accounts of
women teachers and the memories of former pupils. These often touching, and
occasionally funny accounts frequently serve to provide relief from the
fairly humourless business of statistical and social analysis that makes
up much of the work. The author’s own prose fluctuates between being
overly dry and academic and beautifully fluent, enthusiastic and readable.
It is at its most animated when she is writing of her own career and
experiences and when she gets drawn into the worlds of her historical and
literary sources. Aside from the issues under discussion, there is a great
deal of fascinating material reproduced within the text, for example, the
clumsy schoolgirl writings of Mary Anne Evans (later to ‘become’ George
Eliot). Miller also gives fresh insights into other works ranging from
Richardson’s Pamela to The Color Purple which suggest that her
enthusiasm for literature is at least as great as her professional dedication.
School for Women is a very thorough and seemingly well researched book
that should prove an invaluable source for sociologists and
educationalists at all levels, as well as many parents and professional
women in other fields. As a woman considering teaching as a profession, I
found it by turns encouraging and demoralising but generally
engaging and potentially useful. However, for the reader with only a
passing interest in either schooling or gender issues it might at times
feel like reading a three hundred page long version of the Guardian
education supplement – a fairly indigestible prospect for most, I would
guess. Nevertheless, I would recommend Miller’s book to anyone
truly concerned about schooling in Britain: her intelligence, energy and
compassion are a fine advertisment for her profession.
Reviewed by Polly Rance
