Most instructors would not consider themselves analysts or their students analysands—and just as many would not even want to.  Yet the cathartic nature of the student-centered composition class makes us so, whether we like it or not.  But this is a good thing.  A leveled dialectic typically transpires in Composition 101, and students eventually enact their own "alienation, anxiety, shame, desire, symptom" (Bracher 123) through writing and discussions.  We frequently transcend the institutionalism found in other departments, in other disciplines when we take on the discourse of the Analyst and ask students to reconsider their sense of self and the source of their ideas; most instructors in other disciplines perpetuate that of the Master.  The discourse of the Analyst enables the analysand/student to communicate that which has been beyond symbolization—the manufactured, unspeakable desires of the Other.  Lacan's genius, of course, is that he bridges psychoanalysis and Marxism, and we discover that the veiled origins of these desires are the culture industry as well as the nuclear family. If Giroux is correct and "[c]ritical pedagogy needs to develop a theory of educators and cultural workers as transformative intellectuals who occupy specific political and social locations" (Border 78), then such theorizing will certainly benefit from the reflexivity drawn from an analysis of the posthuman condition—accomplished simply through peer review of a hypertext essay.  Richard Benjamin, our Westworld vacationer, might have benefited, too, had he chosen cybernetics instead of androids, his first gamble.