endsthegame (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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fandomhigh2012-05-18 12:00 pm
endsthegame) wrote in fandomhigh2012-05-18 12:00 pm
Entry tags:
Practical Philosophy, Friday
It was still nice weather out, and so Ender had decided to hold class in the exact same spot that he'd done last week. He came a little later this time, though, giving the students time to situate themselves and maybe get some talking started before he had to start talking.
"I'd like to start by talking about something Britta raised the other week," he said conversationally as he sat down. "School is just a machine that operates by indoctrinating its students. Everything worth learning is outside our walls, while everything inside is simply a standardized means to keep us docile, to sort us into our future roles. It's a terribly Marxist way of looking at it." He paused. "Marx being a man at the turn of the last century of this planet, who was mostly concerned with workers' rights."
He pushed another bag of sandwiches into the center of the circle.
"From a certain point of view, that's true," he said. "The primary role of school is to bestow whatever knowledge the elders of our society feel is important for anyone to start functioning within that society. Not only that, but school is intended to give us a uniform moral framework between ourselves, to define the way we act, the way we talk, the way we interact with one another. It defines the roles we'll play later on in life, prepares us for the labours we will be asked to do. School supports the established hierarchy and searches to reproduce it, time and time again."
He took out a sandwich himself. "Of course, the problem with this is that 'outside the school' is, in its own way, the exact same thing. In fact, by this logic, your parents have indoctrinated you - or whatever caretakers you had. People on the street are trying to indoctrinate you every day - your friends are, too. After all, they all have moral codes and frames of knowledge they feel are necessary to interact in society. A stranger might tell you off for spitting. A friend might praise you for walking past a beggar in 'the wrong part of town'."
He quirked a little smile. "Of course, you could look at it from another perspective," he said. "We're all interacting. Trying to figure out the rules that will keep our society standing upright, whether it be the community between us here now or the community of the island, or the community of this country. Teachers are human beings, they have reasons for why they teach the way they teach. Perhaps they've gotten a curriculum enforced on them from above, but maybe they still choose in what way to emphasize it, in what way to leave an impression on you."
"But going back to the indoctrination idea," he continued, "Suppose the school is just a factory, and we're the would-be automatons shoved into it. Is this intrinsically a bad idea? Or does it help us find common ground with the rest of our generation, whether it be through shared experiences or shared hatred?"
He leaned back. "That's not to say school can't teach us deeply stupid things," he said. "Some frames of indoctrination equip us better for the rest of the world than others do. I like to think the brightest of us find ways to transcend that, though; terribly stupid, restrictive teachings can't last forever in a bright mind, unless they let denial overtake their thinking."
He took a bite of his sandwich. "Or I'm wrong, and we should all run out into town and break the bonds school is trying to put on the proletariat," he said. "That's the lower class, for those of you who've probably never heard of Marx. I'm sure Britta can supply us with torches and pitchforks."
Then, with a smile, Ender finished up with a bright, "Also, I hear it was Mother's Day last week. I hope yours wasn't too traumatic."
"I'd like to start by talking about something Britta raised the other week," he said conversationally as he sat down. "School is just a machine that operates by indoctrinating its students. Everything worth learning is outside our walls, while everything inside is simply a standardized means to keep us docile, to sort us into our future roles. It's a terribly Marxist way of looking at it." He paused. "Marx being a man at the turn of the last century of this planet, who was mostly concerned with workers' rights."
He pushed another bag of sandwiches into the center of the circle.
"From a certain point of view, that's true," he said. "The primary role of school is to bestow whatever knowledge the elders of our society feel is important for anyone to start functioning within that society. Not only that, but school is intended to give us a uniform moral framework between ourselves, to define the way we act, the way we talk, the way we interact with one another. It defines the roles we'll play later on in life, prepares us for the labours we will be asked to do. School supports the established hierarchy and searches to reproduce it, time and time again."
He took out a sandwich himself. "Of course, the problem with this is that 'outside the school' is, in its own way, the exact same thing. In fact, by this logic, your parents have indoctrinated you - or whatever caretakers you had. People on the street are trying to indoctrinate you every day - your friends are, too. After all, they all have moral codes and frames of knowledge they feel are necessary to interact in society. A stranger might tell you off for spitting. A friend might praise you for walking past a beggar in 'the wrong part of town'."
He quirked a little smile. "Of course, you could look at it from another perspective," he said. "We're all interacting. Trying to figure out the rules that will keep our society standing upright, whether it be the community between us here now or the community of the island, or the community of this country. Teachers are human beings, they have reasons for why they teach the way they teach. Perhaps they've gotten a curriculum enforced on them from above, but maybe they still choose in what way to emphasize it, in what way to leave an impression on you."
"But going back to the indoctrination idea," he continued, "Suppose the school is just a factory, and we're the would-be automatons shoved into it. Is this intrinsically a bad idea? Or does it help us find common ground with the rest of our generation, whether it be through shared experiences or shared hatred?"
He leaned back. "That's not to say school can't teach us deeply stupid things," he said. "Some frames of indoctrination equip us better for the rest of the world than others do. I like to think the brightest of us find ways to transcend that, though; terribly stupid, restrictive teachings can't last forever in a bright mind, unless they let denial overtake their thinking."
He took a bite of his sandwich. "Or I'm wrong, and we should all run out into town and break the bonds school is trying to put on the proletariat," he said. "That's the lower class, for those of you who've probably never heard of Marx. I'm sure Britta can supply us with torches and pitchforks."
Then, with a smile, Ender finished up with a bright, "Also, I hear it was Mother's Day last week. I hope yours wasn't too traumatic."
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Being shy was a problem, there.
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He put the bear down on the ground.
"You should, while you still can," he said. "I mean, I'm biased, of course. But he's a genuinely good guy. Ridiculous, but good."
He felt vaguely ridiculous saying that to someone else himself.
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She wrinkled her nose. "I kind of don't like that 'while you still can'," she added. "I get what you mean, but it sounds way ominous."
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(Thank you, Andrew and Tara, for demonstrating yet again how quickly you can make any conversation somber.) Tara cleared her throat.
"Anyhow, so I'm choosing to believe we'll all stay in touch."
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He wasn't so sure about himself, but it was a kind lie.
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Was she sure about it? No. But it beat the alternative.
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