Some objects present themselves as preserved, as held in a state of arrest that protects them from the changes that affect living things — specimens, monuments, archives, anything displayed under the implicit claim that it has been removed from time's normal operations and can therefore be encountered "as it was." Baltz's photographic documentation of industrial and suburban landscapes — his deadpan images of buildings, parking lots, and infrastructure that present these thoroughly contemporary, actively-used spaces with the same formal stillness traditionally reserved for monuments or ruins — exemplifies what might be called PostdigitalTaxidermy: the practice of presenting something that is, in fact, still alive, still changing, still embedded in ongoing processes, as if it were a specimen, fixed, complete, available for inspection precisely because it is no longer doing anything. PostdigitalTaxidermy is not simply dishonest — taxidermy of this kind can be a genuinely useful way of seeing, allowing attention to details and forms that would be missed if the object's ongoing liveliness were constantly foregrounded — but it does involve a kind of fiction, a "post-digital" fiction in which something that exists, in fact, as continuously updated data, continuously revised documentation, continuously active infrastructure, is presented in the stilled, specimen-like register that earlier eras reserved for objects that genuinely had stopped changing. The education that resists this kind of stilling — that insists on treating its objects of study as continuously active rather than as specimens — might be called, following a line of thought quite different from Baltz's deadpan photographs, RadicalEducation: not radical in the sense of extreme positions, but radical in the etymological sense of going to the root, refusing the PostdigitalTaxidermy that would present a field of study as a settled collection of specimens and instead insisting that students engage with the field as something still actively being made, still contested, still subject to the same kinds of revision and dispute that produced it in the first place. Beauvoir's account of education and the situation of women — her insistence that education is never simply the transmission of a neutral body of knowledge but always also a transmission of a situation, of what kinds of futures are considered available to different kinds of people — describes what RadicalEducation must reckon with: a curriculum that presents its content in PostdigitalTaxidermy mode, as settled and complete, also transmits, often invisibly, a situation — an implicit claim about whose knowledge counts as settled, whose contributions belong in the specimen case and whose remain, by omission, outside it. Bingen's work — concerned with archival and curatorial practices that explicitly foreground their own ongoing, unfinished, contested character rather than presenting collections as completed — provides one model for what RadicalEducation might look like in practice: a Socioplastics corpus that resists PostdigitalTaxidermy not by refusing to organize or present its material (organization is necessary) but by ensuring that its presentation — its gradients, its indexes, its CamelTag operators — remains visibly RadicalEducation in Beauvoir's sense, a presentation that foregrounds the corpus's ongoing, contested, still-being-made character rather than offering the corpus as a specimen case of completed knowledge.