Chapter 2

“Ok, class, you’ve been studying literature in this class for 2 weeks now. Any thoughts on the subject? Anything you’ve learned? Questions, comments, rumors, war stories?”

A ripple of chuckles washed through the room briefly, before subsiding into an uncomfortable silence. Everyone shifted around in their desksm trying very hard to look as though they had a complete grasp of the material: nope, no questions here!

Finally, Dr. Hudson pointed to the back of the room. “Yes, Miss Fletcher?”

“Um, well…I’m still not sure why I need to know this stuff. I mean, it’s not going to help me get a job, and it’s not like we’re studying theology or scripture or anything…why bother?”

I couldn’t’ resist a slight smirk. Oh, so many answers to that question! Would Hudson take the culture route? Or maybe mention the obvious literary sophistication of parts of the Bible? Maybe he’d take the more secular route and argue via “ars gratis artis.”

“Well, class, Miss Fletcher has raised the perennial problem for the Christian student of culture. We’re each alloted only our three-score years and ten, so why spend a minimum of four of those—for you math people, that’s about one-eighteenth of your life—studying something with no eternal consequences? After all, most of the saints had very little learning, and many of those that did didn’t seem to think much of it. So, with Miss Fletcher’s permission….I’ll turn this question over to the class.” He gestured towards the room, then with an air of finality, sat on the edge of his desk and waited.

“Well…it seems so obvious. I mean, how could it not be a good thing to learn new things, regardless of the subject?” That would be Nathan, the very earnest intellectual at the front of the room. He had glasses, and curly bronze hair; his clothes, though always clean, seemed to be permanently rumpled. “Aren’t we supposed to be discerning? How can we be discerning if we don’t…you know, know stuff?”

“Yeah, but not all knowledge is good. Look at what happened in the garden of Eden.” Gloria, a blond poli-sci major, who leaned forward everytime she wanted to be taken seriously. Which, of course, was everytime she opened her mouth, and often when she didn’t.

“Well, but is that the knowledge itself, or simply the timing of it?”

“That’s irrelevant; some knowledge just doesn’t seem to be good for us, or at any rate, worthwhile. I mean, you can know how many hairs you have, but is it really worthwhile knowledge to have? What good is it going to do you?” Chris, a business major, member of the debate team and professional devil’s advocate.

“But you can’t measure something’s worth by what good it does you. Or, at any rate, what good you think it does you. Some things just have intrinsic value.” Nathan again.

I cleared my throat. “ ‘And though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I say it has done me good, and will do me good, and God bless it!’ Dickens, Christmas Carol, Nephew Fred to Ebenezer Scrooge. He was speaking about Christmas of course, but is that what you mean?”

“Yes, I think so. But—“

“No, no, that’s not going to work. Why is it good? You still haven’t given us that.” Chris, of course.

“um…” Stephanie, the girl who’d originally raised the question, tried to break into the conversation again, but was interrupted by Chris.

“Stephanie’s right, literature, philosophy, et cetera, aren’t going to get us a job in the real world. And what good is any of this training in being ‘salt of the earth’ and ‘light of the world’ if we aren’t in the world in the first place? Face facts, people; the resume is what gets it done.”

“Um…That’s not really what I meant…”

“Come on, there’s more to life than resumes. Haven’t you ever heard of art for art’s sake?”

“And again, I ask you, what good does it do? How can you have something for its own sake if it doesn’t do anything good.”

“A poem should not mean—or in this case, do—but be.”

“But what about just being good? What does it have to do with that??” Stephanie shouted over the growing din, bringing a sudden silence. She flushed a deep red, and slowly sank back into her seat, but kept a determined look on her face. No-one doubted that she was serious about her question, but I’d had enough.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with it. And why the hell should it? Good grief, does everything have to do with ‘being a good little girl’ or ‘finding God’s will for my life.’ Some of these books are monuments of culture, that have shaped entire nations, and you’re so focused on our twentieth-century evangelical fundamentalist approach to life that you have to know how it helps you with your own ‘personal relationship with Christ’ before you believe it can be good!”

The silence in the room was complete for a moment, then Stephanie, trying unsuccessfully to hold back her emotions, gathered up her textbooks and, weaving her way through the desks, walked briskly out the door.

“Mr. Slocum.”

I looked up to the front of the room. Mr. Hudson had removed his glasses and was rubbing a hand across his eyes. “Even if your arguments may be correcct—I said may—you still have a lot to learn about humility, tact, and basic human manners.”

He straightened up, and went to the blackboard. “Ok, I’m going to make one small addition to the syllabus.” Groans began to emanate from the classroom, but he held up a hand. “No, this is obviously an important question to you, and you brought up the arguments, so don’t tell me you don’t want to explore this further. I’m assigning you a journal. Just wrestle with this issue. You need to have entries spaces throughout the semester, but other than that, I’m leaving the frequency of the writing up to you. I do expect it to show real thought on the issue, and research would be a plus. Turn it in with your final papers. Ok? Good. Now, we’ve gotten out a little late, so you’d all better hurry before you’re late to your next class.”

As the other students filed out the door, Dr. Hudson pulled me aside. “If this makes you late to another class, I’ll give you a note. But I need to talk to you for a second.” He leaned against his desk, and crossed his arms across his chest. “You know, I presume, that on the whole your arguments were not incorrect. There were some glaring over-simplifications, but overall, you may be right. One of these books may in fact have more impact than any single person here.” He paused, and looked at me. “However, you probably just had a bigger impact on Miss Fletcher’s life than any book she will read. And now, thanks to you, she may never really read a book again.” Dr. Hudson sighed, pulled off his glasses and began to clean them wearily. “I’m not going to draw any conclusions here. I’m not even sure which conclusions to draw. Just…be more careful in the future, alright? Be aware of the feelings of those around you.”

I nodded, and got up to leave.

“Oh, and Mr. Slocum?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I will expect your journal to be one of the more thoughtful and researched ones in the class at the end of the year.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do what I can.”

I had actually planned on knocking out the journal project over the course of a weekend, and adding the dates in later, but now I assumed that Dr. Hudson would figure out that trick pretty quick. I lugged my ever-weightier backpack off to the cafeteria and selected a solitary table in one of the less cacophonous corners of the room. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get some preliminary thoughts down, at least for a first entry.