Substitute

by Nicholson Baker

  “Yes!” said Sebastian enthusiastically.

  “Use of censorship, and the government rules the media.” She talked about the repression of dissent in Germany, about censorship and propaganda. If there had been an Internet in the Third Reich, she asked, could German citizens have done a Google search for, say, “Bad Things About Hitler”?

  “Yes,” said Sebastian.

  “Nope, not in Germany,” said Ms. Day. “It would be blocked. It would say, ‘No results found, Hitler is wonderful, somebody will be at your house in a minute to get rid of you.’” China was like that now, she said, and so was North Korea. “You don’t know anything about the rest of the world, because why would you, you live in North Korea, where everything’s perfect.”

  “Gangnam style,” said Scott.

  “That’s South Korea,” said Ms. Day.

  She showed us a clip from a cable history show. A British voice intoned, “Hitler comes to power legally on January the thirtieth, 1933. Within a few months, his dictatorship is firmly in place.” Newsreel footage of mass rallies followed, and paraphrases from Mein Kampf against the Versailles Treaty and on the need for lebensraum, and frightening images of thousands of German soldiers marching in step.

  “That is a lot of people,” said Sebastian.

  The British voice continued. “A pathological anti-Semite, Hitler has also taken on the mission of asserting the superiority of the Germanic, ‘Aryan’ race, menaced by the Jews. For him, the Jews were the cause of the Great War, Germany’s defeat, inflation, unemployment. The next war will be a war on the Jews.” Footage of Dachau. Then the annexation of Austria. “The clouds of war gather.”

  Ms. Day stopped the clip. “Do you think Germany is listening to the Treaty of Versailles anymore?”

  “No.”

  “No, they’ve pretty much thrown them the double bird, saying, ‘We’re going to do what we want.’” She showed a photo of a crowd waving at Hitler’s motorcade. “You’ve seen the Zapruder film, when Kennedy drove through Dallas on the day he was shot?” she said. “People loved Kennedy. He was a very well-respected president. Which is rare. A lot of the time, no matter what great things they’ve done, we don’t always agree with the person in power. That’s fine. Like Lincoln. Not many people liked Lincoln. And then later everybody’s like, Oh my god, Lincoln’s the best! Sometimes you’ve got to give yourself a few years, and then people are like, Okay, he really wasn’t that bad, he did a pretty good job. Clinton is another really good example. But Kennedy was really well-liked during his presidency. People were pumped that he was coming to Texas. You didn’t see nearly, not even a fraction of, the amount of people come out that day to watch him drive through as you did with Hitler. So extreme, extreme, extreme nationalism.”

  Fascism, she said, usually comes out in a time of need, or a time of crisis. “So, major depression, extreme inflation. People burning money to stay warm.”

  “Good idea,” said Sebastian.

  “You have to be able to at least start to recognize how bad things were in Germany to figure out how it got to where it was,” Ms. Day said. “How do you follow somebody like Adolf Hitler? How do you do the things you do to people? There really are logical explanations for it. Not saying that there are logical explanations for exterminating millions of people—that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that it’s logical to see how the public mass could be behind Hitler, and how he could get as much power as he did. He promised jobs. Six million people to eleven million people were unemployed at that time. So he promises jobs. And he accomplishes that. He promises revenge for the Treaty of Versailles. In Germany people were like, Finally, god, I hate that thing! I used to have an awesome life and then this treaty comes along and ruins everything I’ve ever loved. And he blames the Jews for the hardships. The public already didn’t like the Jewish people, and their leader is saying we’re going to take care of this. They don’t understand what that means at this point, and I don’t even think the plans were in place at this point, either, but they’re like, Phew, okay, good. I don’t really care what happens, because I’m not the one disagreeing with him. I’m not the one disappearing in the night. Because I’m going to get a job and I’m going to be able to afford to feed myself and feed my family again. They don’t get to flash forward fifty years and go, Ooh, maybe we shouldn’t follow this path. I’m freezing in my house, I’m burning my money, my kids are crying themselves to sleep because their stomachs hurt because they’re hungry—and this guy says I can have a job in a month? All right, we’ll see where this goes. I can’t afford to not follow it.”

  Ms. Day talked more about the worldwide depression, and about reparation payments, and about the rise of fascism in Italy. Mussolini also promised change, also promised the restoration of Italy’s power. “Remember, Italy is the site of Rome,” she said. “The Romans used to own everything.”

  “They owned the Colosseum,” said Sebastian.

  “Italy historically always was very strong. And then in modern day they’re just kind of fading into being a normal country. So this is out of the norm for them, and they want to regain that empirelike system. And this is what Mussolini says he’s going to do. How many of you had a class where you literally did nothing? And you were like, Oh my gosh, I would rather them give me work every day, and just give me something to do, because sitting here for an hour, it just makes me so bored, I feel like my brain is turning into goo. We’ve all been there. Or you get left home alone for the weekend, and at first you’re like, Yeah, I can do whatever I want! And by day three you’re like, I’m so bored, can somebody do something with me? Give me a chore to do? That point where you get so bored you clean your room?”

  “Or you clean the house!” said Sebastian.

  “You hate cleaning your room so bad, but you’re like, You know what, I don’t even care, I’m doing something, I’m fine with it. Okay. Jobs were scarce, and you sat at home thinking about how hungry you were, and then somebody comes and starts putting order into society. As long as you kept your mouth shut, you didn’t have much to worry about, right?” She showed another slide about the rise of Mussolini. “He built four hundred new bridges.”

  “How did he build bridges if he didn’t have money?” Sebastian asked.

  “He told people to do it. Go do it. You’re not going to tell him no. With rocks and stuff. Four thousand more miles of road! All these people are out there working and doing it. Now, you throw a toll on that road, you’re going to start making money back on it.” That led to a discussion of toll revenues in highways around the United States. And then: Mussolini attacks Ethiopia.

  “Everybody feels good when you have a strong army,” Ms. Day said. “What kind of things do you use the military for? Defense and—?”

  “Offense,” said Sebastian.

  “What’s an example of offense in a war?”

  “Football!” said Scott.

  Ms. Day ignored him. “Going overseas, invasions, mobilizing! What country do you guys have that practices militarism?”

  “China!” said Sebastian.

  “Japan,” said Ms. Day. In the twenties and thirties, she explained, Japan had a policy of glorifying the military’s power and of maintaining a standing army. This was known as Japanese expansionism. “Now, what type of landmass is Japan?”

  “Um, marshy!” said Sebastian loudly, just for the sake of saying something.

  Mark, a smart kid, said, “An island.”

  “An island, good. So do you think they have a ton of resources, a ton of farmland? No. And they’ve watched all these other big countries go through this phase of, Here’s my empire, isn’t it pretty? And Japan says, I want to do that, too. And you can’t do that without an army.” So Japan takes over a lot of China. She circled her arm over a map of the region. “Saigon, all over here.”

  Sebastian was jumpy, talking a lot. “Sebastian, do you want to leave and
go work in Mrs. Prideaux’s room?”

  “Oh, no, sorry,” said Sebastian.

  “Didn’t think so.” Japan had a need for dominance in the Pacific theater, Ms. Day said. “They saw Great Britain’s empire, they saw Germany have an empire—didn’t work out so well for them—the Austro-Hungary Empire was around for a while, the Ottoman Empire was around for a little while—Japan wants a piece of that pie. We’re tough, we’re awesome, why don’t we have an empire? So let’s go make one.” She played another historical clip about Japanese aggression in China. “By 1938, the Japanese controlled the wealthier portions of China, and nearly half its population.”

  And then she showed a slide about isolationism. “Who practices isolationism?”

  “China!” said Sebastian.

  “America?” said Mark.

  “America, good. What’s isolationism?”

  Ron read a dictionary definition.

  “Good,” said Ms. Day. “We’re not going to get involved in your stuff. We’re going to let you guys fight. Please look at us as just a friend of both of you. It’s like being friends with a couple when they break up. You’re just like, Whoa, I don’t want to have to not be friends with one of you. I’m neutral.” She talked about the focus on building infrastructure. “What does infrastructure mean? It actually means inside structure. What are some good examples of that?”

  “The White House?” said Sebastian.

  “The White House, sure,” said Ms. Day. “But they weren’t like, Well, guys, we need to repaint the White House, so we’re not going to World War II. A lot of it is roads, bridges, highways. A lot of things like that were done under FDR. National parks. So making things nicer at home.” The US stays out of the League of Nations. “They said, Jeez, we’ve already been in one world war, we’re all set! We don’t need to be associated in a club with all these other countries, we need to focus on our own country and do our own thing. We literally can’t afford to go to war right now, can’t do it. Everyone thought World War I was the biggest mistake. We spent a lot of resources to go, and it ended a year later. We lost a lot of lives during that time we were in there, and it doesn’t seem like we’ve accomplished much, other than destroying Germany. Didn’t seem like it was our war. And this is a really awesome political cartoon—”

  The bell bonged, and everyone got up to go.

  “It says, League of Nations Bridge, brought to you by President Wilson. And there’s Uncle Sam leaning on—” The woman on the PA system drowned her out. “Alexa Starling to the main office, please. Alexa Starling to the main office. To the guidance office, Wayne Donnelly, Donald Bogan, Jon Sharpe, Ellis Wharf, Dylan Cadman, and Shastayne Peabody, to the guidance office.”

  I said, “I enjoyed that, thank you.”

  “Oh, good,” said Ms. Day.

  “I didn’t do anything,” I said.

  “There was nothing to do,” she said, “you’re good.”

  “So in your class,” I said, “typically what would an ed tech do?”

  “Like if they were doing work,” Ms. Day said, “you would kind of just be there for questions. It’s hard subbing for an ed tech. My husband does it, too.”

  —

  THE NEXT CLASS was a small one in the remedial literacy room in the North Building. Here I was subbing for a Mr. T. “Mr. T.’s schedule is a bit turbulent on Wednesdays,” explained a teacher named Mrs. Pellinger. “You can just sit and join us and we’ll have a study hall.” I sat down on a plastic chair.

  The teacher stopped in front of a very young, short-haired boy with a dreamy expression. “What are you doing, David, listening to music? Do you have work you need to do? Like some science?”

  David pulled out a wad of worksheets. “I’ve got to finish this last piece of paper,” he said, smoothing it flat.

  “All right,” said Mrs. Pellinger. “Let’s do it. You’ll be all caught up.” She read the worksheet. “So you have to explain oceanic spreading ridge, subducting plate, stratovolcano, and the continental rift. Pick one and start with that.” She looked around. “Remy’s working. Just getting everybody to do something positive here.”

  Another ed tech, Mrs. Lahey, said, “Jared, I know you have plenty of stuff to do, plenty. So you need to find it, and do it.”

  Jared asked to borrow Dustin’s iPad. Dustin held it to his chest with long, thin arms. “Sharing is caring,” Jared said mockingly.

  Jon, a pale, doleful kid with glasses, had an assignment from English class. “I’m trying to make a comic about a writer in the seventeen hundreds,” he said.

  “Okay. Do you have the facts?” said Mrs. Lahey.

  “I’ve got a couple of facts,” said Jon, “but it’s junk, there’s barely any. I’m a terrible draw-er. I looked at how many books he made, I think he made a lot of books.”

  “What’s his name?” asked Mrs. Lahey.

  “Jean-Jacques Rousseau.”

  I sat up. I’d just been reading about Rousseau in Nel Noddings’s book on the philosophy of education. Mrs. Lahey looked at me.

  “You know who that is?” she said.

  I said, “He was a guy who had a theory of education that everybody was born innocent, and you shouldn’t interfere with a kid at all, but just let him grow naturally, and we’re all noble savages. He decided that we shouldn’t have to have teachers or force kids to do anything. Lived in France.” My heart was pounding with the tiny scrap of knowledge I had to offer.

  “What do you think of his philosophy?” Mrs. Lahey asked Jon. “You just grow up, and we don’t force you to do anything?”

  Jared, listening in, said, “That would be awesome.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it,” said Mrs. Lahey, with a gentle edge.

  Jon nodded.

  “We would have no discipline,” said Jared. “But it would be bad, though. Kids need discipline.”

  “You need discipline sometimes?” said Mrs. Lahey. “You more than others?”

  Mrs. Pellinger laughed knowingly.

  Jared hung his head. “Yeah.”

  Dustin, who had a speech problem, said, “Then the people who could read, could read, and the people who could read somewhat, could take longer to get something done.”

  I remembered something else about Rousseau. I said, “He believed that it would all work out. But there was one problem with his philosophy, even if you agree with it. It only applied to men. Women were supposed to serve and prepare and make everything, and then the men would be able to go wild and have a free existence. It was completely gender un-neutral.”

  “Did you understand what he just said?” said Mrs. Lahey to Jon. “It applied just to men. The women were supposed to serve the men, do whatever the men needed them to do. And then the men could just go wild and do whatever they wanted.”

  Mrs. Pellinger asked me, “So did that mean the women had to be educated?”

  I said, “He didn’t believe that women should be educated, or should aspire to the learning that men should aspire to. Men should come to it naturally, but women should be held back. It was incredibly sexist.”

  Jon started writing some dialogue in a speech bubble. Mrs. Lahey helped him spell woman.

  “So this is a class in reading?” I asked Mrs. Pellinger.

  “I’m usually in a room with five students,” she said, “but that room is being used for something else today. There’s usually four students in here working on fluency.”

  “And I’m one of them,” said Jon, looking up from his comic. “How do you spell could?”

  “C-O-U-L-D,” said Mrs. Lahey. “That’s one of your spelling words.” She checked her phone. “Nineteen emails!” she said.

  Mrs. Pellinger resumed explaining plate tectonics to David. “What he’s looking for is the whole thing about sea-floor spreading. The idea that the ridges in the ocean are coming together.”

&n
bsp; “Like one goes up and one goes under?” said David.

  “Yep,” said Mrs. Pellinger, “and they create a ridge in the ocean floor.”

  I looked over at the Rousseau cartoon. “Does he wear a wig?”

  “Yes,” said Jon. “A powdered wig.”

  He didn’t want any help from me, so I let him be.

  Mrs. Lahey sat next to Dustin to give him some help. Dustin was supposed to be working on learning how to set SMART goals. SMART stood for “Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Relevant, and Timely.” Mrs. Lahey said, in her soft coaching voice, “If you get stuck and need some help, who are you going to ask?”

  “Ghostbusters!” said Jared.

  I laughed. Mrs. Lahey ignored him. “Who would you ask?” she said to Dustin. “Would you ask your teacher?”

  Silence.

  “Who’s your teacher?”

  “Mr. Salton.”

  “So that’s the person you would go to first if you need help. If he’s not available, who else could you get help from?”

  “I don’t know,” said Dustin.

  “Could you ask me? Could you ask Mrs. Pellinger? Who do you have for a guided study teacher?”

  “Mrs. Giroux.”

  “Could you ask her? Could you ask another student in class? So there are a lot of people you could ask.”

  David’s science worksheet was progressing. “How does a volcano change gradually,” said Mrs. Pellinger, “and how does it change abruptly?”

  “What does abruptly mean?” said David.

  “Very quickly and very fast. Gradual means slow. If it happens abruptly it’s going to make what?”

  The bell went bong, bong, bong, bong, bong, bong.

  “If it made a volcano that would be an abrupt change,” said Mrs. Pellinger. Jon put his colored pencils away, slid his half-finished Rousseau cartoon into a binder, and left.

  I walked to another tenth-grade history class, this one taught by Mr. Domus, a youngish, congenially rumpled man with a knit tie and a green shirt. “Come on in,” Mr. Domus said. On the back wall of his room were hung the front pages of many old newspapers. “Guys, I need just a couple of minutes and then you can work, okay? First off, everyone needs to take out the sheet I gave you yesterday that broke down the project.” They were working in groups on the antebellum reform era. “I don’t care what sort of a presentation it is, that’s totally up to your group. Make sure you’re including background information. Make sure you’re including the actual reform itself—the actual efforts that will be made. Make sure you’re including significant leaders. And make sure you’re including results. Brian, you have that look like you have a question. Fire away.”