The morning of September 9,
2013 I saw a stream of sixth graders walking in front of the building
in the lovely cool morning – first hint of autumn, magic magic
magic. Even walking past the school building later that afternoon
and not forgetting the terror and captivity, I felt magic from the
red bricks, from the cool air, from the memory of pencils. Shouldn't
there be a place for the honor of that, as part of autumn's
enchantment in childhood?
But
I was thinking about the morning first. Those sixth-graders filed
past the door in tune with the morning's loveliness. Then I heard an
adult voice bark “single file straight line!” as if they were a
bunch of jailbirds – reminding me that, in fact, they are.
When
I called the sixth-grade school they said that these students had
attended an assembly at the middle school, some anti-bullying thing.
Very much on everyone's mind these days. I called the middle school
and found out they contract with some outfit to come and give them
this presentation every year.
Apparently
it's a big deal: they set up three big screens in the gym and have a
powerful sound system. They're very proud of it, saying it “will
encourage students to clarify dreams, look clearly at obstacles, and
through hard work and determination, turn their dreams into a
reality. Students will learn positive methods for dealing with the
pressure, stress and fear they feel inside, and they'll understand
the importance of setting short-term goals for their lives.” And
of course there's the personal responsibility that adults never tire
of invoking when it comes to making younger people do things: this
show “will help students realize that it's time to stop passing the
blame to someone else and start taking responsibility for their
futures.”
Their
website offers a shrunk-down version of the presentation, which I
watched. They certainly do try to make an overwhelming show of sight
and sound. The shrunken preview can't match the experience of the
real thing, they say, and I believe them.
A
powerful, high-impact character lesson, they say. What it is is loud
and vapid, the art of saying nothing over forty minutes refined near
to perfection. I can imagine sitting in the bleachers in the gym
with those sights spread out over huge screens and the sound blasted
into your head – no escape. I imagine all the adults, having their
ears pressed flat to their skulls by the angry-sounding pop metal
music in the thing, maybe not enjoying it at all but thinking that
these guys who made it sure must be legit cuz they've got all this
badass-sounding music that the teenagers like.
I
sat through plenty of clumsy agitprop while I was in school, and of
course we saw through the grown-ups' feeble attempts to appropriate
our vernacular and poured derision thereon when they were safely out
of earshot. I'm 36 and have only the vaguest idea what kids are
listening to these days, but watching this it looks like (alas) the
propaganda engineers have gotten much better at what they do over the
past quarter century. The music in this presentation sure didn't
sound like the cheesy stuff that tried to inspire my generation to
love school. This stuff was like a hammer to your brain, along with
the rapid editing of shots (including plenty from action movies)
smashing away at any attempt by a viewer to formulate and consider
any thoughts of substance or consequence.
-Which
served its purpose, since what would happen if too many people
really started asking questions like: what if my hopes and dreams are
in fact blocked by having to go to school every day? Just how
exactly do my good grades in each subject prepare me to reach my
dream? How do the standardized programs of learning even help me to
find what my true dream is? Are the grotesquely-amplified examples
of athletes and singers really relevant to my life? How would the
authorities over me react if I dreamed of a life outside of this
system and dared to do what I had to in order to bring that about?
How
much can the school environment even bear the concept of an
individual life's calling?
And
on and on. I haven't the energy to write much more about it; I don't
know if it even deserves the dignity of a detailed consideration or
rebuttal – there's not really much to argue against, because it's
damn near impossible to argue against emotion.
Of course this
thing doesn't show any sex or tantalizing views of certain body
parts, but it's as pornographic as anything, stroking the feelings of
your lower chakras in a calculated move to make a flood of feelings
that will drown ideas. People pay for this kind of opiate in
theaters or in their own homes to escape the meaninglessness of their
over-regimented lives, or in the case of music, the powerless band
together in communities around angry protest songs: punk, heavy
metal, rap. I don't know if this production company really pulls off
a convincing appropriation of that protest in the perception of its
young captives. Despite the in-your-face, no-escape presentation
method, I hope that the young people saw through it.
Maybe
it's vain to hope too much: we constantly hear complaints about
today's youth: about their apathy, their addiction to screens, their
susceptibility to the persuasion of violent and titillating images on
those screens – this presentation was tailored exactly to such, and
depends on non-thinking recipients for its success. But I still
hope. I hope there were a lot of closed eyes, and mouths in cupped
hands pressed to ears, during the onslaught: respectful human touch
is the best antidote to pornography.
