One out of the old chapeau

I've been in a bit of a writing rut. I know, I know. It is rather early in this experiment to be in a rut, but cut me some slack. There has been a concerted effort to write daily about what are essentially "non-events," but that is a little trickier some days than others. So I have gone back to the basics just like I tell my students to do when they are stuck in the pre-writing stage: brainstorming.

Tossed around topics for include: the employee/cookie policy of at least one local eatery that I frequent, the construction of massive phallic symbols in supposedly "cash-strapped" nations, the very public verbal assault of a certain country that is especially close to my heart by a certain "fair and balanced" talking head who apparently does most of his talking out of a much lower orifice, late night talk show wars with large-chinned has-beens, and natural disasters.

Instead of any of those seemingly enlightening and interesting topics (some of which have a slightly political leaning [and this is a little too early in our relationship for a political diatribe, don't you think?]), I am going to run with my 11th grade American Literature topic for the day. Well, sort of anyway. I teach English because I believe it to be a discipline consisting wholly of ideas (Although many would disagree with me. Unfortunately for those people, they are wrong). Those subjects with "real" answers do not appeal to me. I have always been more of a fan of questions. My lesson today left me questioning my own values a little bit though.

I am going to try my best not to educate anyone with this subject, but I apologize if in your search for entertainment, you actually learn something. So we're talking about modernism. You know, that whole shift to the self-centered idealism that spawned the "me generation" that has in turn excreted such technological marvels as myspace, facebook, twitter, and the like (this list should include blogs, but we all know how wonderful they are, so let's not call them into question just yet). In connection with this, we were discussing (by "we were discussing," I mean I was ranting like a madman while the students stared at me with that whole "deer in the headlights" look) a couple of stories that address the alienation of the individual and the degradation of relationships.

As we muddled through the fog and confusion typical early modern writers and their fruitless attempts at assigning meaning to misery, I quickly realized the void that existed between my students and I. Sure, I can keep up with their pop culture knowledge. I like to think I am one of the hip and happening teachers (although it has been made abundantly clear to me that using the term "hip and happening" is most definitely neither hip nor happening). When the kids suggest that in my free time I check out their website suggestions such as: lolcats.com, loldawgz.com,  lolsquirrelz.com, or so help me god, lolrus.com, I check them out and weep silently for the degenerate society that we are creating (But I do laugh a little. Those sites are absurd.). The complexities of relationships that we discussed left me a bit dissatisfied with my seemingly wise and experienced approach.

When you have talked to enough crowds, you can just tell when they are understanding what you have to say and when they are a mixture of confused/annoyed/in extreme disagreement with your view. These kids were definitely the latter. I explained how relationships aren't all their cracked up to be. This may be my stubborn bachelor self coming out, but I try to keep that under control while in school.

I don't pull any punches.  My favorite opener is, "Okay, life lesson time." Which today was followed with something akin to "relationships are a lot of work and they usually suck" (definitely paraphrased here). However, I noticed that the students basically all thought I was a lonely, pessimistic, old bastard. Albeit, a hip and happening one. Although they'll never believe me, they are young and inexperienced. They still believe all of the Hollywood lies they have been told about how wonderful and romantic significant others are. The idea of living a life by themselves leaves them scared and saddened. Now before you get all defensive and agree with them, just take a minute to relax. I don't know whether I feel bad for them or envy them. Can you even remember what it is like to exist in a realm such as theirs? I don't know if I want to, but it would be quite the novelty. All I know is there is a chasm. A chasm as deep as any valley you may find that separates their world of naivete from my world of jaded indifference. What I felt is what I would imagine most parents feel for their children (don't go getting all mushy and shit on me now). I would love to be able to explain to them the pitfalls of life. They really aren't going to get it though. I could find literature from the greatest authors. I could explain these concepts in excruciating detail. I could spend an entire school year on these ideas. Aren't these the problems that we all struggle the most with every day? Isn't this what would really help students get somewhere in life? It wouldn't make a difference though. Until they experience it, they'll never learn it. That kind of sucks for them and me, but I guess that is how it goes.

It all leaves me a bit frustrated. If it is impossible for me to get across some of the most important life lessons to these kids, then what is the point? If real learning only happens through living, then are we just keeping them in a state of arrested development? Is there any hope of advancing a civilization when wisdom can only be gained through personal experience? I don't know. It isn't enough to make me throw in the towel on the idea though. I'm a stubborn s.o.b. if anything. I'll keep spitting my version of the truth until some perceptive youth realizes, "Hey, this cat is either on something or onto something. I am just not sure which yet."Here's to hoping there is generation of sarcastic, introspective, intelligent, and stubborn kids out there just waiting for someone to point them in the right direction.