Reflections in the Midst of a Distinguished Teaching Career
Reflections in the Midst of a
Distinguished Teaching Career
© John M. Williams
A classroom, seen from the side, angled slightly: fifteen or so desks and a teacher’s desk. Lights rise to the class waiting for the teacher: Jason, sitting straight and eager on the front row; Toby, slumped somewhere in shades with a fast-food drink cup; Harrell toward the back with his head on his desk; another student in the same pose who remains that way throughout (sorry, actor); Antwaun, looking out the window; Oblivia, in the very back with an assortment of diversions to occupy her–food and drink, magazines, make-up, a little notebook where she practices florid signatures, etc.; LaJoyce, exuding a chaos of books and papers and notebooks; Tomiko, sitting quietly. In other desks intermingled among the humans are found a large rock, a potted plant, a lamp, stuffed animals, a mannequin, pieces of mechanical equipment, or whatever strikes the set designer’s fancy. This scene confronts the audience for a moment; then a spot rises on the teacher just off-stage (in his office) at another desk piled with papers and books.
TEACHER
(reads from the paper he is holding)
“Laura was a shapeful woman, walk like a dancer, with soft lips within which no one ever touched her.” (lowers the paper, sighs, addresses the audience) Pure poetry. Oh Laura. Walk like a dancer. My God. (shakes his head in admiration) Here’s the test: get a pencil and piece of paper and try to beat it. (returning the paper to his desk) Good luck. (picks up another paper, reads) “In today’s society . . .” (picks up another) “In today’s society . . .” (another) “In today’s society . . .” (another) “live life to the fullest . . .” (another) “live life to the fullest . . .” (another) “live life to the fullest . . .” (takes another, scans it briefly) “It would be fun to live forever for a while–” (considers this, then takes another) “Let’s sit back and see where we stand on this issue.” (shrugs agreeably, replaces it) (to audience) Let’s. (searches, at last seems to find something more exemplary) Ah, here we go. (reads) “There are servial kinds of discipline. First, nature and reality. We know if we cross the street without first checking for clearness, there’s a sure possible of being hit by a car. Nature changes choise. We as people are changes with natural, which comes Nature. Reality is litaturely an act of truth brought forth. Nature automatic impulse durning pursuit of buisness. To expect is more in favor to of doing it right the first time.” (stops, looks at audience) What? “Phrasing needs work”? (shakes his head, selects another paper) “The Romantic Period was at time doing away with old boring ideals. Someone needed to come along and give a breath of fresh air. That someone was Wadsworth and Cooleridge.” (looks at audience, then selects another) “Amidst the vast expanses of literature many writers have toiled with the task of creating a work of such literary perfection that would seep into the hearts and minds of readers, but few have graced the literary world with such a panoply of innocuous works as well as other poems by Williams Shakspean.” (looks at audience, selects another) “When I was in high school accentuating the body was my only chance of repressing myself. But like everything else my ravishing river of fornication finally ran dry and then the message of safe sex, or even better, absence, looming in the back of my mouth and caused sexist issues to uprise.” (puts it down) Well, this material is from some other dimension, I think we can all agree on that. One we really don’t know anything about. But look at my dimension. Academia. Sounds like a psychological disorder. Is it treatable? (shakes his head) I don’t know. One place I worked we had to hire somebody. We had three candidates–two brilliant, one mediocre. The two brilliant ones canceled each other out and we hired the mediocre. Or just last week. We had a guest lecturer. All you heard about was how great she was–all these awards and grants and publications; her resume looked like a phone book. So what happens? She gets here and she’s this boring mousy little nobody just like you knew she would be. (sighs, rises) Oh well, what are you going to do? (takes a book and set of papers and starts for the classroom–pauses) What do you do when you grow sick of the sound of your own voice? (shakes his head) Only thing you can do: try to talk your way out of it. (takes a few steps, pauses again) It’s called teaching.
He enters the classroom; only Jason on the front row reacts to his arrival; Toby shakes some ice into his mouth and crunches it. The teacher perches against his desk.
TEACHER
What’s up, people? (no acknowledgement) Okay, I have your papers.
JASON
(closes his eyes and clenches his fists)
Oh please, please, please.
TEACHER
Jason. (He opens his eyes eagerly.) Relax.
JASON
I can’t help it.
TEACHER
It’s only a paper, Jason.
JASON
I’m just stressed out about my grade.
TEACHER
I know. But it’s just a grade–who cares? This time next year you won’t even remember it. When you’re my age you won’t even remember college.
JASON
I can’t help it.
TEACHER
Plus, you have a 98 average.
JASON
I’m still worried. I can’t help it.
TEACHER
You need a hobby. Here.
He hands it to him; he claws through it, reaches the last page, and heaves a sigh of relief. The teacher shakes his head, then hands out the rest. For the sleeping students he lifts an arm and wedges the paper under. LaJoyce somehow merges hers into her existing confusion, in spite of herself, where it becomes hopelessly lost. Oblivia, chewing gum, takes hers, flips to the last page, rolls her eyes, and discards it.)
TEACHER
(to Toby)
Toby, you didn’t turn in a paper.
TOBY
(addressed, sits up quickly and glances around the room)
What?
TEACHER
You didn’t turn in a paper.
TOBY
(attempting indignation)
Yes I did!
TEACHER
No you didn’t. (Toby tries for a second to keep it up, loses the thread.) Why not?
TOBY
What?
TEACHER
Why didn’t you turn in a paper?
TOBY
I couldn’t think of anything. You can ask my roommate.
During the following exchange, Jason listens eagerly, Harrell and the other student keep their heads down, Oblivia inhabits another solar system. Tomiko sits with an attitude of serene, attentive blankness. Antwaun and LaJoyce carry on some sort of clandestine interaction with each other.
TEACHER
All you had to do was pick somebody. Anybody.
TOBY
I couldn’t think of anybody.
TEACHER
Somebody influential in your life. Somebody interesting. That’s all. It could be anybody.
TOBY
(thinks)
Like my stereo?
TEACHER
(a beat or two)
Your stereo?
TOBY
Yeah. In my truck.
TEACHER
A person, Toby. Homo more or less sapiens.
TOBY
(smiles, looking around the room)
I don’t know any of them.
TEACHER
(shakes his head)
How about your mother?
JASON
(on his heels)
How about your mother?
TOBY
(pause)
My mother?
TEACHER
Middle-aged woman. Around the house a lot.
JASON
Cooks meals.
TOBY
(thinks, shrugs)
What about her?
TEACHER
I don’t know. However she’s influenced you.
TOBY
Like–what?
TEACHER
Like what she’s taught you, given you.
TOBY
You mean like for Christmas?
TEACHER
No, Toby. Not for Christmas. Just–all around. In life.
Toby shakes his head, comes up blank
TEACHER
How about your father?
JASON
(on his heels)
How about your father? That’s who I wrote about.
TOBY
(puzzled)
My father?
JASON
No, my father.
TOBY
I don’t even know him.
TEACHER
Your father, Toby.
TOBY
(thinks, unfruitfully, then shrugs)
You mean, like, what?
TEACHER
What stands out about him?
TOBY
(thinks)
He looks like Kenny Rogers.
TEACHER
Can you get a paper out of that?
TOBY
(considers)
I don’t think so.
TEACHER
I don’t either.
JASON
How about a brother or sister?
TOBY
(thinks, shrugs dismissively)
I’ve only got a sister.
JASON
What about her?
TOBY
(thinks, turns up his nose)
Eh-h-h.
TEACHER
Can you remember an influential teacher?
Toby thinks, puzzled, shakes his head.
TEACHER
How about any teacher?
TOBY
(thinks some more)
I don’t remember one.
TEACHER
Coach?
TOBY
What?
TEACHER
Do you remember a coach of something?
TOBY
I never played anything.
TEACHER
Minister?
TOBY
Like in a church?
TEACHER
Isn’t that where they are?
TOBY
We never went to church.
JASON
Be careful you don’t burn in Hell.
TOBY
(incredulous)
What?
TEACHER
(reclaiming his attention)
Toby. How about a friend?
JASON
Yeah. A friend. Or acquaintance.
TOBY
You mean like Carson or somebody?
TEACHER
Sure. What can you tell me about him?
TOBY
(thinks)
He’s just sort of a guy. (thinks some more) That’s about it.
TEACHER
What do you do together?
TOBY
Just hang out.
TEACHER
Do you ever go anywhere interesting?
TOBY
You mean like the mall?
TEACHER
Well–is that interesting?
TOBY
(thinks)
What do you mean interesting?
TEACHER
(stares at him a second)
Just–interesting. I don’t know. How about a trip? You ever gone on an interesting trip?
TOBY
Like where?
TEACHER
That’s what I’m asking you. A vacation maybe. Or anywhere.
TOBY
(thinks, shakes his head)
My grandmother’s.
TEACHER
Okay. Good. Where does she live?
TOBY
Next door.
TEACHER
(stares a second)
What does she do?
TOBY
I don’t know. I think she works somewhere.
TEACHER
You don’t know where?
TOBY
(thinks)
I think like in a store.
TEACHER
Does she do grandmotherly things? Bake pies and that sort of thing?
TOBY
She doesn’t cook stuff. (thinks a beat or two) She goes to Las Vegas.
TEACHER
Okay. What can you tell me about your childhood?
TOBY
(thinks blankly for a couple of beats)
What?
TEACHER
What memories stand out from it?
TOBY
From what?
TEACHER
Your childhood, Toby.
TOBY
(thinks, obviously coming up blank)
I don’t know.
TEACHER
Where did you grow up?
TOBY
I’m not sure.
TEACHER
You don’t know what town?
TOBY
(thinks, shakes his head)
What town?
TEACHER
Skip it. Do you remember kindergarten?
Toby furrows his brow.
JASON
My kindergarten teacher was named Mrs. Bottoms.
He laughs, looks around the room.
TEACHER
Very interesting, Jason. (back to Toby) What about first grade? (furrows deeper) Okay–what’s your earliest memory?
TOBY
(squints his eyes, thinking)
I remember this sort of girl in high school.
TEACHER
High school?
TOBY
Yeah, I think.
TEACHER
That’s your earliest memory?
TOBY
(shrugs)
Yeah, I guess.
TEACHER
What have you done all your life?
TOBY
Nothing.
TEACHER
What are you doing here?
TOBY
Where?
TEACHER
Never mind. (to Japanese girl) Tomiko–I believe I asked you to write on one side of the paper.
She nods deferentially and uncertainly–maybe understood him, maybe didn’t. He holds up a sheet of paper; she has written on the left half.
TEACHER
I meant only on the front. As opposed to the back. (turns it over) One side. (She repeats her inconclusive nod.) Also, you just copied some stuff out of the Cliff Notes.
TOMIKO
(puzzled)
Criffs Notes. (suddenly brightens) Ah yes! (nods) Criffs Notes.
TEACHER
It’s considered bad form.
TOMIKO
(continues nodding)
Yes, yes.
TEACHER
When can you rewrite?
TOMIKO
Lee-lite?
TEACHER
Yes.
TOMIKO
(types it in a little device, studies the result)
Ah! Yes.
TEACHER
When?
TOMIKO
(nodding)
Yes.
TEACHER
(nods)
Okay. LaJoyce. You wrote about your mother?
LAJOYCE
(assenting, as she searches for her paper)
Mm-uh.
Teacher waits as her search becomes increasingly chaotic and hopeless.
TEACHER
Can you find it?
LAJOYCE
It’s right here somewhere.
Things get outrageous.
TEACHER
Just–never mind. I only wanted to ask you about a couple of things. You said you used to sneak out at night and–(checks a paper, reads)–”My mother was unknowing to all this.” (She nods.) Unknowing to all this?
LAJOYCE
No–she wasn’t.
TEACHER
I don’t mean whether she knew or not–I mean the way you phrase it.
LAJOYCE
She would be asleep. She wouldn’t know about it.
TEACHER
I’m not saying that I don’t know whether or not she knew about it. I’m only questioning the way you phrase it. It’s not an idiomatic phrase.
LAJOYCE
Well, if she did know, I never knew she knew. She never said nothing.
TEACHER
No–no. I don’t mean that I don’t know whether she knew or not.
LAJOYCE
She didn’t.
TEACHER
I believe you. I’m just saying, we don’t really say it that way.
LAJOYCE
But if she knew, I would have gotten in trouble.
TEACHER
(shakes his hands)
No. I’m not trying to determine if she knew. I’m–(gives up) Can anybody help me here?
ANTWAUN
She saying her mother didn’t know she was sneaking out.
TEACHER
No, I know she’s saying that. I’m only questioning the way she’s saying that.
JASON
I think she’s saying she used to sneak out at night and her mother never found out.
TEACHER
I know she’s saying that!
ANTWAUN
Then if you know what she’s saying, what’s the problem?
TEACHER
The problem is that we don’t phrase it that way in English.
ANTWAUN
She did.
TEACHER
(shakes his head)
Okay. You win.
TOBY
I used to sneak out at night.
Teacher turns eagerly to him.
TEACHER
Good! Where would you go?
TOBY
(furrowing his brow)
Uh–
TEACHER
Forget it. Antwaun?
ANTWAUN
Yo.
TEACHER
There are no pronouns in your paper.
ANTWAUN
No who did what to who?
TEACHER
Pronouns. You. I. (running them together) He–she–it.
ANTWAUN
(smiling)
He did?
TEACHER
Okay, okay. Why are there none?
ANTWAUN
I didn’t think you was supposed to.
TEACHER
Why not?
ANTWAUN
I don’t know.
TEACHER
Who said you weren’t supposed to?
ANTWAUN
Teacher I had in high school. She’d get mad. Said they was wrong.
TEACHER
(thinks a beat)
Wrong?
ANTWAUN
That’s what she said.
TEACHER
How could they be wrong?
ANTWAUN
I don’t know.
TEACHER
Well, your current teacher is just curious: how could an individual write a paper about the influences of another individual on the previously-mentioned individual without referring to the individual who had the influence except as something like “the individual who had the influence on the individual currently writing”?
ANTWAUN
It’s easy for you because you the teacher.
TEACHER
It’s not easy for me. Has anybody else heard that?
LAJOYCE
My teacher said you don’t supposed to never say “I”.
JASON
My teacher said you never say you feel something.
TEACHER
Why not?
JASON
Because it’s bad grammar.
ANTWAUN
And my teacher said, you don’t never say a lot–because that’s where somebody’s house go.
LAJOYCE
And mine said couldn’t nobody use your white-out–everybody have to bring their own.
TEACHER
Okay. You know what? She was right. They were all right. Just do everything they said. Jason?
Jason sits up eagerly.
JASON
Yes sir?
TEACHER
I have a question for you. Your paper–I was intrigued by it. You express yourself very well.
JASON
I worked on it ten hours Monday, and five hours Tuesday.
ANTWAUN
Man want a A.
TEACHER
What’s wrong with that?
ANTWAUN
I ain’t said there was nothing wrong with it.
LAJOYCE
I can’t make nothing but a big ol fat C.
TEACHER
But Jason, I’m curious. You wrote about your father, and as I understand it, you feel the United States should be a Christian country?
JASON
Yes sir.
TEACHER
Okay, you could argue that. But you don’t believe in the principle of the separation of church and state?
JASON
Yes sir, in minor countries.
TEACHER
Minor countries?
JASON
Yes sir.
TEACHER
What would those be?
JASON
All the other ones.
TEACHER
Why just those, and not America?
JASON
Because their religion is false.
TEACHER
I see. And you said everybody who did not sign an oath of allegiance to the church would be–if I understand you right–killed?
JASON
Eliminated.
TEACHER
Hm. Interesting. Do you think that’s fair?
JASON
Well, it’s just what would be best for everybody.
TEACHER
Even the ones eliminated?
JASON
Well, they may not like it at first. But it would be worth it because it would be a world where everybody was nice and obeyed the laws and shared.
TEACHER
But how would it be worth it for them if they were eliminated?
JASON
Because they’re wrong. And by being eliminated they would be helping to create a better world.
TEACHER
Okay. And you think–and I found this the really bold part of your argument–the Chief Justice of America should be God?
JASON
Yes sir.
TEACHER
I like the concept–but how would He deliver His opinions?
JASON
He’s God. He’d find a way.
ANTWAUN
Yo God or my God?
JASON
(a little confused)
Just–God.
ANTWAUN
(nodding)
Mm-uh. Yo God.
JASON
Everybody’s God.
ANTWAUN
Everybody ain’t got the same God.
JASON
(flustered)
Yes they do.
TEACHER
Jason, I think Antwaun’s suggesting that different people conceive of God differently.
JASON
Well, they’re wrong.
ANTWAUN
I ain’t wrong. Rich man got one God, poor man got another one. And the rich man’s God don’t do nothing but keep the rich man up, and the poor man down.
LAJOYCE
(nodding in perfect understanding)
I know that’s right.
TEACHER
(to Toby)
Toby, what do you think?
Toby, who hasn’t been listening, jerks himself up.
TOBY
What?
TEACHER
Do you think there’s a socioeconomic basis to the conception of God?
TOBY
Like what?
TEACHER
Like–well, that’s okay. Tomiko? (Her expression calmly responds.) What about people in Japan?
TOMIKO
People Japan?
TEACHER
Yes. What sort of conception of God would one find there?
TOMIKO
(surprised–checks her device, her eyes grow wide)
God?
TEACHER
Yes.
She shrugs, politely uncomfortable.
TOMIKO
I don’t know.
LAJOYCE
Yall got God over there?
TOMIKO
(puzzles over the question for a beat or two)
Japan people just little bit believe God.
ANTWAUN
(shaking his head)
Yall gone be eliminated, man.
TEACHER
Antwaun. (Antwaun looks around, smiling.) Let’s move on to something else. What did you think of the article we read for today? (absolutely no response) Did anybody find anything interesting in it? (no response) Did anyone agree with the basic premise? (no response) Can anyone think of a way to apply it to the world we live in today? (no response) Oblivia, what did you think?
Oblivia looks up, interrupted from doing her nails.
OBLIVIA
What?
TEACHER
What did you think about the article?
OBLIVIA
(nothing important, after all–returns to her nails)
Boring.
Teacher takes a couple of steps towards her.
TEACHER
Okay. Oblivia, when I count to three and snap my fingers, you’re going to wake up and be fascinated by all of the ideas we discuss in this class.
She continues with her nails.
TEACHER
Ready? One–two–three–(snap) You are awake!
OBLIVIA
(pauses, looks up briefly)
Oh, everything is so interesting. I’m so fascinated by these fascinating ideas.
She just as quickly drops the ruse, returns to her nails.
TEACHER
LaJoyce? What did you think?
LAJOYCE
(searching for her book)
It didn’t really keep my interest.
TEACHER
Why not?
LAJOYCE
It just kept saying the same thing over and over.
TEACHER
Which was what?
LAJOYCE
Well, I’m not all the way sure, but whatever it was it just kept saying it.
TEACHER
Antwaun?
ANTWAUN
Just didn’t flow, man.
TEACHER
Toby?
Toby jerks up again, startled.
TOBY
What? (looks around the room)
TEACHER
How are you today?
TOBY
(looks around suspiciously)
Fine.
TEACHER
How about you, Jason?
JASON
I’ve got a little upset stomach.
TEACHER
No, I mean what did you think of the article?
JASON
I agreed with some of it.
TEACHER
What, for example?
JASON
That we should strive to be more Christlike.
TEACHER
Is that what it said?
JASON
That’s what I got out of it.
TEACHER
Well–
JASON
We should put God first, and no other gods before Him.
ANTWAUN
There he go again.
TEACHER
I don’t really think it’s about that, Jason.
JASON
Was it gun control?
TEACHER
No.
JASON
Cloning?
TEACHER
No, Jason. It’s not about cloning. It’s about meaning. And control.
JASON
That’s what I said first.
TEACHER
No–not really.
JASON
I was thinking that.
Antwaun raises his hand.
TEACHER
Antwaun?
ANTWAUN
I think it’s about–meaning.
TEACHER
Yes. Very good.
ANTWAUN
And a little bit about–control.
TEACHER
Excellent. Can you explain how?
ANTWAUN
Well, that’s the part I had a little trouble.
LAJOYCE
It just said the same thing over and over.
TEACHER
What was the name of the article?
LAJOYCE
(taken aback)
The name?
TEACHER
Yes. The title.
She resumes the search for her book.
TEACHER
(to the class)
Anybody? (no response) I believe it appears in your book. At the beginning. (waits) On the first page.
Only Jason has his book; he begins an ardent search; the others undertake evasive maneuvers.
TEACHER
(coaxing)
“The–” “The–”
ANTWAUN
“The–” (gesturing, trying to lure out the words) “Meaning–The–Control–”
TEACHER
No-o.
LAJOYCE
“The Control–and the Meaning–”
TEACHER
Not exactly.
LAJOYCE
Is it close?
TEACHER
Well–no.
JASON
Found it! (points to a spot in the book) “A & P.”
TEACHER
No, Jason. What about the author? (no response) Toby?
TOBY
(looks around)
What?
TEACHER
The author?
TOBY
Sure.
LAJOYCE
I know it was some guy.
TEACHER
Close. Actually, it was some gal. Who can give me her name? Tomiko?
TOMIKO
Author article?
TEACHER
Yes.
Tomiko carefully consults her book–with difficulty reads.
TOMIKO
Rarane Ra-rer.
TEACHER
I’m sorry?
TOMIKO
Rarane Ra-rer.
TEACHER
Oh. Yes. Very good. Lorraine Larell. And what was she trying to say? Anybody?
ANTWAUN
I don’t know. It just didn’t flow.
LAJOYCE
It was too long. It just kept saying the same thing.
TEACHER
Which was what? (no response) Was it that our culture is held together by stories, by myths that we buy just like we buy any other product?
ANTWAUN
I’m gone say that was it.
TEACHER
Do you think our behavior can be manipulated by these types of stories? Or not?
JASON
I like to hear a good story, but the most important thing is how you treat others.
TEACHER
I think you’re probably right. But what are some of these kinds of stories in modern America? (no response) Narratives that encode some perceived truth about human experience? (aside, to audience) Am I saying this? (no response from class) Can we think of any good examples? From the world of sports, for example–or politics, or business?
Harrell, who has yet to raise his head from his desk, responds with infinite, cynical “let’s just get this over with” weariness.
HARRELL
The American Dream.
TEACHER
Yes. Good. The American Dream. What exactly is the American Dream?
HARRELL
(head still down)
It’s a dream. Of the American variety.
TEACHER
Eloquently put. Harrell–would you mind sitting up?
With great fatigue, Harrell raises himself to a slumped sitting position, massaging his brow tiredly.
TEACHER
Thank you. Can you be more specific?
HARRELL
It’s an illusion. That nobody can define. Which is why it’s an illusion.
TEACHER
What’s it to you?
HARRELL
It’s not anything to me because I don’t believe in it.
TEACHER
What do you want out of life, Harrell?
HARRELL
I don’t want out of life. I just want out of here.
TEACHER
That’s funny. How do you see yourself in five years? Ten?
HARRELL
With a periscope?
TEACHER
Cute.
HARRELL
I don’t.
TEACHER
You don’t think about the future?
HARRELL
Yeah, I think about the future.
TEACHER
What do you see yourself doing?
HARRELL
Eating. Breathing. Hopefully fornicating. Working somewhere.
TEACHER
And that’s all?
HARRELL
What? Going to Wal-Mart? Watching TV? What else do you want?
TEACHER
Meaning. What will give your life meaning?
HARRELL
I have no idea. Something meaningful, I guess. But it won’t be what’s meaningful to you, so what’s the point in talking about it?
TEACHER
You think we’re that different?
HARRELL
Yes.
TEACHER
I think you’re just asleep.
HARRELL
I was.
TEACHER
Who do you think’s more bored–you or me?
HARRELL
Me.
TEACHER
Do you think you’ll be permanently bored?
HARRELL
Yes. Except for when I’m not.
TEACHER
What’s important to you?
HARRELL
Exactly that. What’s important to me. Not what’s important to you.
TEACHER
You don’t think there are some things that are just important? Important enough to be passed on?
HARRELL
If there are, they will be.
TEACHER
Do you believe in the idea of cultural heritage?
HARRELL
I don’t believe in phrases.
TEACHER
How about the idea?
HARRELL
If we’re all just going to end up dead, why is anything more important than anything else?
TEACHER
I guess you got me there. Any idea what you’re doing in college?
HARRELL
No.
JASON
I’m getting an education so I can get a better job.
HARRELL
Okay. I’m being kept off the streets until somebody can figure out something useful for me to do. Which I hope will be a long time.
TEACHER
You’ll get your four years like everybody else.
HARRELL
Ah ah ah. Graduate school.
TEACHER
Okay. Seven. Maybe eight.
HARRELL
If there’s anything left then.
TEACHER
Anything left of what?
HARRELL
America. The carcass.
TEACHER
What do you think the chances are that aliens landed here and planted televisions and computers and when they come back to harvest us we’ll all be sitting around in a stupor staring at our little screens?
HARRELL
Big screens.
ANTWAUN
I don’t watch that much TV.
LAJOYCE
You watch it all night long!
ANTWAUN
Yeah–the playoffs.
JASON
I like the History programs.
TEACHER
I see now what’s happened: we’ve perfected the art of entertaining our children so well we’ve created the greatest drug ever invented: American culture. And now you’re all addicted and the only real ambition you have is keeping your high. Which I can understand.
TOBY
(looking around defensively)
I’m not high.
HARRELL
I see your point. If something bores you into a coma–it’s your fault. It couldn’t possibly be that is has no relevance or interest to you–that somebody’s trying to pass off their interpretation of the uninterpretable as the only one because they can’t stand to see the world that made sense to them pass away.
JASON
That’s right. When the world passes away and all things are made new again.
A moment passes.
TEACHER
Okay. I think that’s about enough for today. Remember the paper for Friday. Any questions?
Tomiko deferentially raises her hand.
TEACHER
Tomiko?
TOMIKO
On paper–you ask my opinion?
TEACHER
Yes. Your opinion.
She nods, still not comfortable with this alien idea, but accepts it.
TEACHER
Anybody else?
LAJOYCE
We can say “I think”?
TEACHER
Yes, but only if you think it. Anything else? (looks around) Okay. See you Friday.
He remains leaning against his desk as they pack up and leave. LaJoyce undertakes the Herculean labor of corralling and packing her things, as Antwaun waits; finally she just crams it all messily into her backpack. Teacher watches them go (all but the sleeper), then massages his brow a bit.
TEACHER
(to the audience)
“Those who speak don’t know; those who know don’t speak.” If you ever go to a faculty meeting you’ll be convinced of two things: a. We in the west don’t really believe that, and b. It’s true. Have you ever had one of those days where except for mumbling to yourself you didn’t talk all day long? I mean literally. A day where you didn’t even see another human being, and sometime maybe late that afternoon it just hit you: I haven’t spoken all day? When I have one of those going I try not to think of it; I don’t want to jinx it, like somebody pitching a no-hitter. I used to think: what would it be like to be me but without language? Just me. Like being the only person on earth, before things had names. I figured that would be the ultimate freedom, but of course it’s impossible. It’s not your voice you’re sick of–it’s your self. Okay, they’re the same. But how do you get away from yourself? Well, choose your poison. Not that any of it really works. (tosses book and papers onto the desk) Very strange. I’d rather be me than I.
He exits. The sleeping student remains as the lights fade to black-out.
