The wait is over! My blog is back, and hopefully here to stay. The Detour resumes with this piece that I have been writing for about two weeks for the PCHS school newspaper, PCNN. (http://web.mac.com/pcnn/PCNN/Welcome.html)
I hope you enjoy it because I've literally spent months wondering what the hell I could write my next blog about, and I think this fits just right. Big shout-out to Will Queen; he's got talent that you just don't see on a regular basis, and he went through the tedious process of editing this 6-page editorial through FOUR drafts. Without him, this piece would be a shadow of what it is. Thank you so much for your patience; this year has been trying to say the least, and because of my supportive friends, family, and mentors, I've found the courage and desire to make my writings public again.
To be quite frank, the American system is failing. The economy is down. Political strife plagues the thoughts of America's leaders. Another war theater in the middle-east has been opened, the fourth to date. But, among these logistical and regulatory failings of the U.S Federal Government, one shackles America to regularity and mediocrity far more severely than the rest; it hits where we refused to compromise; where we vowed to never show vulnerability: it's killing our youth. The American Education System is a shadow of what it used to be.
With most governmental legislation, there's actually no real change in my lifestyle. I hear about economic stimulus, taxes on the upper bracket of American citizens, and revolutionary military movements. But, in all honesty, I just don't care. I don't have to dish out large quantities of money during tax season; I don't have to pull the trigger. But it feels like these issues are the extent of political discussion in washington; I never hear about the mass-siphoning of funds from the education system. I don't hear about high schools, formerly wealthy schools, like Apex High, re-using theatre equipment for entire decades because politicians need to pay for their bombs and bullets. I'm so sick of people forgetting about what matters most: The Youth Of America.
It's an atrocity, what has happened to Education in America. The intent of this text, however, is not to criticize the degradation of the Public Schooling system. I've almost completed my 1 year long AP English III Course, and I can tell you it's the hardest class I have ever suffered through; the grading scale is unforgiving, and the learning curve for the class is steep. There is simply no other class that compares to the raw talent required to excel; It's a true test of your literary prowess. The class itself features an encompassing conversation, one that is far more stimulating than that of a lower level or Honors English Class. It was a great match for my educational goals; ...but, like all great love stories, there's one thing I just cant stand about this class; the reading of American literature that is required of all students enrolled just doesn't do it for me. I try my best to dig through these critically acclaimed, “timeless,” texts, but I just can't.
Reading, personally, has always been an escape. As a child I could delve into the lives of Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, and just forget about the trials and tribulations of growing up. In their books, anything was possible. But now, I'm shackled to these beige, depressing, and in many cases, infuriating “staples” of American literature. I'm told these authors were the pioneers of their eras, and that they shaped History. In all honesty, I don't care about the revolutions and opinions they forged; they aren't MY beacon for dissent: this just isn't our literature.
In The Grapes Of Wrath, author John Steinbeck retells the story of an Oklahoma Yeomen farm family's journey west in search of the californian promise land. The story itself, which occurred over eighty years ago, causes no personal outlook shift; I just keep reading, wishing that I could simply siphon off the contextual information, just to do well on my quiz – which I never do well on. I read these books only to accomplish the required task; there's no passion. There's no internal paradigm shift. There's just no love. I fight to cut through the irrelevant details, like Indiana Jones would cut through thickets with a machete; my only goal is to get the single nugget of essential detail that will be on my quiz; I fight to get to the Lost Ark, I suppose. This entire process, which will take me hours due to the countless plot deviations, is mangling the love for reading I came into Junior year with. Before, when I got in bed to fall asleep, I would always have my night-time dose of a George R.R. Martin novel. Now, I only look at my novel with spite as I reach for my laptop to watch another episode of the Walking Dead. The American Literature being shoveled down my throat is killing my formerly beloved past-time, and it disgusts me.
I refuse to believe that the greatest example of feminine expression is Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God. Women have changed History; Ida Tarbell changed History. Hurston's novel is a bastardization of the feminine movement; it does creative minds no good to utilize sub-par fuel to stoke the fires of their literary synthesis. Furthermore, The Great Gatsby is a staple of American intuition, but it just doesn't address the new-age issues that face young adults today; in the 1950's, materialism plagued the american mindset; but this isn't the 1950's anymore. Today, we face an Environmental cataclysm that the world has never before seen, we struggle to salvage our formerly prosperous economy, and we face political movements that threaten to truncate our freedom; and, still, the creative minds of America are locked in the stockade of the past's stagnated opinions.
It seems that the authority on designating our reading regiment is buried in the sands of the past, ultimately suffocating the youth of america. Our teachers grew up with these books, it's likely that their teachers had to claw their ways, page by page, through these droning novels as well. But why has there been no succession? Why have we not buried these ancient tombs somewhere on our bookshelves, to never look back? Why have we not adopted the work of new-age authors like Michael Creighton, Stephen King, and, while he may not be particularly new-age, the dystopian novelist Ray Bradbury? Their books feature identical and, in many cases, far more comprehensive examples of polished literary complexity; but where they triumph is their superiority in addressing social issues. It doesn't have to be this way; the books chosen for our year-long curriculum are a gross example of the 18th and 19th century American mindset; however there are still magnificent tales of teen angst, and individuality that have been overlooked.
I can read Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451, and have an actual introspective re-alignment occur due to it's address of the growing hedonistic beliefs of american culture; analyzing his dystopian novel allows us, as dynamic beings, to grow and adapt to the ever-diversifying challenges that society is faced with. Hedonism, something that many neither understand nor care about, effectively states that maintenance of a pleasure filled lifestyle is the absolute expression of living. In actuality, it's not particularly realistic to exclusively seek pleasure and dismiss the cost of pain that it may be accompanied with; but it's so sad, because this is the exact direction that man kind is moving in: teenage deaths tied to alcohol are at an all time high and teen pregnancy is a festering scar on the education system's attempt to reform. The world is screaming out for more and more, but when is there enough?
Coincidentally, I was given the book The Great Gatsby, which is an address of a very similar concept (materialism). But, when I read it, nothing happened; no revelation, no inspiration, just emptiness. The book lacked the passion and emotion of other authors that I had read and, while Fitzgerald bored me, all I could think about was getting back to reading fahrenheit 451 again. It's like the dilemma of being engaged to the girl you're parents want you to marry, and only thinking about the women that is right for you all the way through the wedding procession; it's not impractical because she is inadequate in her education or in her opinions, she just doesn't light your life up like the other girl does. And that's the core issue with the Great Gatsby: it is void of any imperfections in its literature but it just doesn't inspire me.
The book, for it's time, was exquisite. F. Scott Fitzgerald had an almost unparalleled understanding of the English language and, coupled with his personal accounts, and deep personal vest in addressing materialism, he created perfection... for his time. That's just not enough though; the novels that I have read this year were great examples of english being used as a tool to change the world. But if all those societal qualms have been addressed, why must the learning prolong: why are we not allowed to move past the mistakes of the past?
Another issue I have with the reading curriculum is it's absolute lack of any Science Fiction. The only science fiction novel read in high schools in Wake County, to my knowledge, is Orson Scott Card'sEnder's Game. I can describe this novel in one word: amazing. It shows deep complexity in creating a futuristic world that not only features apocalyptic extra-terrestrial threats, but also a great articulation of societal sentiment that ultimately drives the book, and the series, to success. The main character, Ender, is no different from me and you at first: he's a kid growing up in a confusing world, with a somewhat unsure future. His normal life quickly transforms into one of great responsibility and stress; a life that many of us could never thrive in. But, through his success and personal character progression (which is something that is nonexistent in many of the novels read in high school), it's one that we marvel at; we WISH we could be Ender, we wish we could have his courage and intellect, and, in reading the novel, we can put ourselves on the right track to achieve those characteristics. But you simply cannot tell me that Freshmen English students can appreciate the great complexity of this novel; all they see is a kid being trained to kill aliens; there is no creative genesis happening there.
All in all, I feel the books I have read this year mutually lack one thing: Love. Not love in the context of romantic interactions between characters, but the act of giving a child a book to read use to be a great deed of endearment. One could solve all the problems in the world for a child by giving them a book; but, for now, all I read for is the fear of looming AP quizzes featuring 20-23 direct quotation matching sections, which I will fail regardless of reading the novel or not. I came into this year excited about being able to read seven novels over the course of the year and being able to engage in intellectual discussion about them; regretfully, however, they serve as only dead weight on my grade. It just hurts so much; my love for reading has been mangled, my education has become stagnated and predictable, and I have no idea how in the world man kind will escape the perils that loom ominously above. Are we doomed? Is there no hope? To become flexible in all three of these issues (education, solving public issues, and restoring reading to it's position of a great past time) we must act.
If you truly believe that the education system has failed in this regard, PLEASE do not remain silent: it's on your shoulders if you want to alter your education, it's up to you to speak out.
If we succeed, in all Honesty, We Can Change The World
