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art, books, education, Inspiration, literature, philosophy, poetry, spirituality, writing
I vividly recall the day I sat reading a book nearly twenty-five years ago and my literature professor scurried by, eyes fixed before him in an overly anxious resolve not to take any notice of his surroundings lest someone greet him or worse, engage him in friendly conversation. His hand clutched several books tightly and as he hurried past I caught the words printed on the back of his black T-shirt: ‘SO MANY BOOKS, SO LITTLE TIME.’
“The stammering fool,” I thought—ok, a little harshly. But he epitomized something I couldn’t put my finger on back then. My stay back in school lasted little more than a couple of months; in that short time I came to the conclusion whatever learning I was after wasn’t there. Now, so many years later—so many books later—that opinion hasn’t changed a bit.
I mean, why feel an obligation, a compulsion, to read a certain canonical list of books, say fifty or a hundred long, just to attain to the largely misunderstood and overrated status of being ‘well read’ anyways? And what’s more, exactly what does it mean to be ‘well read’? Conversant in the classics? At home in a literary conversation? The envy of your local book club? Such things occupied my thoughts more than they should have a long time ago.
***
One night, just around sundown, I was wandering the streets of an unfamiliar City. Why I had moved there I cannot recall. Why I did anything back then I can only now recount, having the benefit of time… and something else… a sort of inner perspective, I suppose.
Anyway, as I strode the crowded streets a playbill caught my eye. ‘The Last School’ it announced, and said something more about the past, present, and future. At the bottom was ‘Theatre One’ and a time. Having passed the place earlier and having nothing else in particular to do I made my way over.
As I took my seat the lights went down and the curtain went up to reveal a man standing in front of an ancient looking lectern. He was athletically built and of indeterminate age and with a welcoming smile he surveyed the audience, which consisted of one other man besides myself. Behind him in a spacious semi circle were large heavy looking bookshelves crammed with volumes. In front of these were statues, sculpture, and painting, standing on the floor and mounted on small tables, plus an assortment of scientific instruments such as telescopes and microscopes and crazy medieval looking retorts and alembics.
The man stood silent, allowing the two of us time to take in the scene. Then he spoke, and this is what he said:
“Aah, welcome,” he began, looking deeply into our eyes. “I see we have a better turnout than I expected. That’s good.”
“What do you say we get going here? For time is of the very essence!”
“The Last School begins this very instant, and how long it will take is entirely up to you. Courses? You are free to devise your own, using whatever materials and syllabuses you deem appropriate. There are no classrooms—this hall has only been rented for the day—and no teachers. And of course it goes without saying that there will be no one to grade anything you do. Any questions?”
The other fella raised his hand. The man at the podium looked at him.
“Uhh,” my fellow student said, “how do we know when and if we’ve passed?”
The man at the podium looked down.
“You will simply know,” he said.
And with that the curtain fell, the lights went up, and the doors to the street outside were thrown open.
Omphalos Cafe 
As a high school English teacher with 13 years under my belt, I will have to say that I agree with you about education, but not about what makes a great work of literature and why we need to read it.
1. Education is most certainly not a machine or corporation as our government seems to think it is (at least in the U.S.). It is more of an organic thing that needs the constant care and pruning of a master gardener. Each student sees the world through different lenses and each one learns on a different level. Not one of my classes all day are the same. I cannot teach my first period like I do my 7th period even though it is the same subject.
2. What makes literature different from entertainment is that literature deals with a universal truth or with the human condition. I have a hard time believing that anything Stephanie Meyer has written thus far falls into this category, but it has it’s place. Some works need to be studied and read because we find the deep questions that make us who we are as humans and they hold up a mirror to our faults so that we can be better people. Therefore it is necessary that we find this work and read it, but I like reading for escape as well. I just started reading “Darth Plageus” for crying out loud.
This is a very good post, and I think that you have hit the nail on the head of what is education. I’ll be checking back to see what else you write. Keep it up!
Thanks for the comment Roger. “Therefore it is necessary that we find this work and read it…” Beautifully, aptly put, at the very heart of the ‘Last School.’ I don’t envy you being the high school English teacher, but I imagine your students as fortunate, whether they are aware or not, to have you as master gardener.
Nice post, Jeff. I might not agree with everything you said, but I’m certainly on board with the sentiment behind it.
Kindly,
One of those “fools” who wasted their time reading the cannon. :-p
A big thank-you, from one fool to another.
Jeff, enjoyed knowing what a fool i am…
“…exactly what does it mean to be ‘well read’?”
…there is an inner peace
…there is a great satisfaction
…there are times, while being totally alone, you have great conversations with authors and characters, although, not one word has been spoken aloud.
…there are times when you enjoy being totally alone (see above)
…there are times when you prefer to keep your read knowledge to yourself
…there is a thirst for knowledge that can only be quenched by reading
…there is a time, while reading, you are in a timeless dimension
…there is a time, when you are anywhere the author takes you
…there is a time, when you grow thru the knowledge of reading
…there is a time, when you comprehend great thoughts
…there is a time, to stop this list, and open a great book
visit http://www.gutenberg.org you won’t be sorry
good night
Just reading earlier about the fool, the Holy Goof, in Native American lore being an incarnation of God, in Joey C. A couple of posts have made reference to Him (the fool), using an illustration I made for a ‘Zine back in ’97. I didn’t make the connection, but I suppose there’s something of the fool in all students enrolled in the Last School.
And your list? Absolutely superb. “You simply know,” answered the man at the lectern. A big thank-you, and I hope you don’t mind ‘five reflections’ getting shoehorned into my blogroll.
Thanks Jeff for your kind words – I also linked ‘omphalos cafe’, a very place to visit.
Enjoyed ‘the last school’.