Today he seemed a bit down.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Oh, nothing,” he said, using the most common response a
teenager uses when something is truly bugging him.
“Share,” I said.
“Can I have a beer?”
“It’s ‘may I have a beer’ and, no, you’re too young.”
“I’m 647 years old in your time,” he said.
“Then choose another form. What’s bugging you?”
“The schools,” he said. “Those things called ‘charter
schools.’ I visited one yesterday.”
“How did you do that?”
He looked at me as if I had just asked how he managed to tie
his shoes this morning.
I changed tactics. “What did you find out?”
“It was weird,” he said.
“How so?”
“For one thing, the entire first hour of class was devoted
to what they called ‘dialogue training’ and it was most odd.”
“How so?”
The kids were divided into groups and were being made to
memorize and deliver standard bits of dialogue.”
“Like what?”
“One group was being made to stand as the teacher walked up and
say, ‘Good morning. Welcome to ‘Betsy DeVoss High School.’ Each student had to practice
it until the teacher was satisfied.”
“Anything else?”
“Another group was doing the same thing, only with a
different dialogue.”
“Which was?”
“How are you folks doing today?”
“I see. Any others?”
“Some were practicing giving directions, like ‘yes sir, or
ma’am, it’s right down on Aisle Five’ over and over.”
“I see. Then they held classes?”
“Not until they assembled in the auditorium and did a few
school cheers. This included a final arm salute to someone named Saint Sam.”
“And then?”
“They went to their classes, but they weren’t classes like
any I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh really?”
“No. I snitched a schedule that one student left lying on a
bench.” He produced a sheet of wrinkled paper, smoothed it and said. “Listen to
these.” He took a breath and read, “Proving Science Wrong 108.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I stood outside the door and heard the teacher
say, ‘It is a well-known historical fact that Charles Darwin accepted Christ as
his personal savior on his deathbed and recanted his entire body of work. Now
that’s false science for you.’ She then told them the assignment for the next
day was to read the chapter called ‘Paul’s Travels as the Basis of Modern
Geographic Systems.’”
“That’s not true about Darwin. I can’t believe you actually
heard that.”
 |
| My Falloonian Elders don't understand your concept of flexible truth. - C. W. |
“I don’t think ‘true’ was a measurement of accuracy in that
class,” he said. “There’s more. You should have listened in on the one called ‘Flexible Mathematics: The
Limitations of Numbers 107.’”
“You’re not serious.”
“Seems one no longer needs to learn things that the machines
will do for you anyway.”
“You’re making me nauseated.”
“It gets worse.”
“How?”
He read from the list. “Obsolete Teachings 101: History.”
“No.”
He ignored me and continued. “Obsolete Teachings 102: Public
Administration.”
I waited. He read, “Obsolete Teachings 103: Moral Imperatives
in Modern America.”
“I think I’ve heard enough.”
He said, “No, it gets better. Standing outside the class on
business administration, I heard a lecture called, ‘The Use of Tag-Team Matches
in Conflict Resolution.’ It was the most interesting of call.”
“I can imagine. What did you do next?”
“I stood outside the Religion 104 class and heard a lecture
called, ‘The Beatitudes as False Doctrine.’ It required the students to rise on
cue and give a salute to that Saint Sam person.”
“I think I’ve heard enough.”
“Wait,” he said, “I haven’t even told you about the classes
they were holding in the Athletic Wing. Well,” he said, “they called them
classes anyway.”
“I think,” I said, “that you can have that beer now if I can
join you.”
See also:
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