Facades at the Harkness Table

By  FORREST  ZENG ‘26

Exonians are in a strange limbo. As high schoolers, Exonians are on one face typical teenagers—full of rebellion, hormones, and loud profanity. On another, Exonians are curious intellectuals, disciplined students, and ambitious leaders. 

By nature, as passionate as Exonians are, we end up putting on a facade when we go to school. No place is such a facade more acute than at the Harkness table. 

There’s something about this curved mahogany table that transforms a group of twelve boisterous kids into twelve eloquent prophets of English, history, math, whatever it may be.

But when the teacher leaves the room, what are we left with? Our clairvoyant facades collapse like curtains on a stage. 

To better understand why this happens, it might be a good idea to look at the ideas of French philosopher Michel Foucault’s ideas on disciplinary society.

See, the Harkness table is like a 12-folded panopticon. A panopticon was a theoretical prison, first conceived by English utilitarian Jeremy Bentham. Prison cells were arranged in a circle around a central guard tower that could see into any cell at any time. Importantly, the prisoners could never know when the guard was watching them.

The panopticon is the topological analogy to Foucault’s version of disciplinary society—and also the Harkness table.

Foucault believed that disciplinary society had three parts:

1. Observation. 

Just like the guard tower in the center of the panopticon, or the security cameras dotted around a bank, any discipline starts with constant observation.

In a classroom, Harkness or not, the teacher is the observer. From their position at the head of the classroom, or perhaps at the head of a Harkness table, teachers are constantly observing. 

In Harkness, however, there is one more layer of complexity—and that is peer observation. As petty as we may be as high schoolers, Harkness demands observation from us all. 

We know when other students aren’t paying attention, or if they’ve prepared for class at all. 

However, observation is only useful when it comes to the next two steps.

2. Judgement

After observation came judgment. Undesirable behavior would be characterized as “abnormal,” while desired behavior, is “normal.” Just like the cultural norms of a typical disciplinary society, there are norms for the Harkness table.

Don’t interrupt others.

Don’t change the subject too quickly.

Support your points with textual evidence. 

These are norms—value imbued in the culture of Harkness itself. And they are applied by both teachers and students. We judge some for being “Harkness Warriors,” and others for being “awkward” in class. Teachers attend carefully to how well students lead others in discussions. This is the qualitative step of a disciplinary society, in Foucault’s conception, and it is no different from Harkness.

3. Examination

Finally, after observation and judgment, comes examination. During examination, real disciplinary action occurs. Punishment is imposed upon agents of “abnormal” behavior. Shame is wrought upon the wrongdoers. On the other hand, praise and reward are given to “normal” behavior. This completes the cycle of Foucault’s disciplinary society.

At the Harkness table, this step is where the teacher has the greatest role. Our grades are the most obvious result of this examination—but there are other sources as well. Whether a teacher nods or stays silent during your point is also a subtle system of reward and punishment. 

The express approval of your peers is a system of influence too. After your point, does everyone stay silent? Or do they nod approvingly and say, “I agree with you?” 

The lesson is this. Harkness comes twofold — as an educational pedagogy, but also as a social lesson. 

On one hand, Harkness is an educational pedagogy like no other educational system. Through discussions at the Harkness table, we can truly seek “complex truths” on an educational level. 

But on the other hand, Harkness also tempers our teenage improprieties. It exposes us to the realities of engaging with others in respectful, normal discussions. In this way, Harkness combines Exeter’s core values of knowledge and character. 

However, a question remains to be answered. At what cost are we learning to poise ourselves for our social futures? Every time we sit observe, judge, and examine others at the Harkness table, we give away a piece of ourselves to accommodate a respectful facade, just as the prisoners in Bentham’s panopticon do. Is this a cost worth incurring at an age so young?

That’s up to you, the reader, to decide.