by W. S. Fuller
“Teaching...the world’s most important profession. And why? It’s quite simple, really. Because educating is the world’s most important task. I believe this with all my heart and I want to talk tonight about what I must do...and what you must do...to enable our profession to live up to its enormous promise, and the responsibilities inherent in that promise.”
“Teaching has always been crucially important in the development of America’s most important resource...the same resource that is the most important for each and every nation...each and every group of people on earth…their children. However, with the disintegration of the traditional family unit in segments of our society, widespread poverty, the availability and allure of drugs and their profits and the violence that surrounds this horrid industry, the assimilation of an ever increasing number of non-English speaking immigrants, and the mounting pressures on all our children to be successful in a world that becomes more competitive daily...I say to you that there can be no doubt that teaching is now more important than ever…in this country as well as throughout the world. And by virtue of its importance it should no longer be viewed as a mere job...it must be viewed as a mission, a quest, a sacred crusade.” Again there was loud applause and a few people jumped to their feet.
“To meet the ever-growing list of responsibilities that society and its ills are now thrusting upon our profession, to ensure that the promise of our young people and our world will not be wasted...we will need help in two areas.”
“Each of you and every new teacher who will join our ranks in the years to come must be diligent, uncompromising, relentless…in your pursuit of excellence in each of your ever increasing list of responsibilities to your students. The second area we need help in is from people like myself, and ultimately the taxpayer, who also votes. We simply must obtain the resources to provide the training, facilities, materials, and yes...the compensation for you…that is necessary and consistent with your responsibilities and status as the world’s most important professionals.”
The applause started again, rose in a crescendo, and continued....with more whistles and ‘all riiights’.
“I keep mentioning your growing list of responsibilities. I would like to address those for a moment. We all know that learning and its coxswain, motivation, should start in the home. If it is started and nurtured in the right way at home, there is little you can do as teachers that can equal the positive impact an involved parent and family can have on a student’s desire and ability to learn. The problem is, large numbers kids are coming from homes where no one is there to start and nurture the learning process...or if someone is there, they are often too busy chasing their own successes…or working like slaves to provide the basics for subsistence. You’ll have to take over this job as best you can for many students. You’ll have to teach them the worth and beauty of knowledge...then motivate them to pursue it...if you are to have success in helping them attain it. And you’ll have to figure out how to keep them away from the frightening consequences of drugs...irresponsible sex...and the other temptations and peer group pressures they all face to one degree or another. In many cases you’ll have to be a parent, role model, sociologist and psychologist...as well as a teacher. Immigrants and those with learning disabilities, as well as those who are gifted...will need even more of your help. You must be adept at using different strategies to meet the needs of this very diverse group of students. You’ll have to do whatever it takes to help a dyslexic child from a broken home and the ghetto achieve his significant potential...as well as prepare the student capable of becoming a microbiologist and curing the world’s hunger problems to achieve hers. This may seem too much to ask...but you’re truly our last best hope.”
“Of course, many of you already wear these different hats, and play these different roles...but you’ll have to do more. And to prepare yourselves to do more you should take every course and seminar you can...have every discussion possible with your colleagues...read everything you can lay your hands on that might help you. You must be relentless in your pursuit of the tools you need and their application to this task you must succeed in.”
“And if all that doesn’t sound like too much to handle…there are other crucially important responsibilities you must bear. You must educate parents and taxpayers to the importance of quality education…what it costs…and the necessity of paying for it. And of course we must all be held accountable. If we cannot motivate…and teach…to the highest standards…with verifiable results…we must step aside in favor of those who can.” Limited applause…even a few muted boos. Jennifer waited, scanned the room. “If we receive the resources we need to succeed…and are compensated at the level we should be…we must allow ourselves to be held accountable.” Applause…but still muted.
“Now for my responsibilities...and my promise that I will not let you down. I will carry the message of our mission to every level of government and through every level of educational administration... from local and state boards, to local and state governments, to the Congress of the United States, the Department of Education and to the President himself. I will carry the message in speeches, and articles, and interviews, and I will introduce legislation and amendments and fight for appropriations.”
“And what will my message be and what will I fight for? It will be that quality education is the only hope we have for addressing the staggering challenges we face every day in our country and throughout the world. It will be that we need to make important decisions...decisions about the best curriculums, the best teaching methods, the best learning environments to ensure that each and every child...regardless of race, color, nationality, social status or learning ability...not only has the opportunity, but is motivated to take advantage of that opportunity...to be everything they are capable of being, and in turn help our world become everything it should be.”
The applause from the audience was immediately at full cry. Jennifer waited until it subsided, but had not stopped, and then continued, her voice rising above it all. “My message will be that we must have the money to pay for designing and implementing the curriculums we need...that we must have the money to pay for new schools and the renovation of old ones, and for the materials that will help us create this fertile learning environment for every one of our children. That we must have the money to hire, train, and keep in this profession the best our society produces....because this most important of tasks requires nothing less than the best.”
The applause was again thunderous…and the chants began. “Jen ni fer....Jen ni fer.” Again she waited. When she spoke she was practically screaming to be heard over the crowd. “You are members of the world’s most important profession...you are undertaking the world’s most important mission...you are crusaders of the highest order...and you deserve to have the resources you need and be paid accordingly. Be...” The explosion of their sounds of approval washed over her but she only hesitated for a moment. “Be relentless in your mission as I will be in mine, and I promise you will have what you need and you will be rewarded.” She raised her arms over her head and smiled, and tears slid down her cheeks.
Laying her head back against the headrest, Jennifer closed her eyes. She was not ready to try to sleep just yet, but was a little weary of talking, or rather listening, to Ida Haskins, the sprightly, charming, kindly ball of energy of eighty-one in the seat next to her, who had just recited her whole life story as well as those of her children and her favorite granddaughter, whom she had just spent the week with in Disneyland. It took a couple of forays into the physical maladies of her late husband, without any response or acknowledgment from Jennifer, before she got the hint. Or perhaps Ida had just run too low on saliva to lubricate her tongue. Jennifer relished the silence when it finally came, and tried to relax and let the tension flow from her body. Her thoughts turned inward. Forty one years old...married, although not too well at the present...beautiful, wonderful six-year-old son that’s the love and pride of my life...representative to the United Sta
tes Congress...returning from a speech that resulted in overwhelming acclaim from my peers and the media. Healthy… in pretty good shape...not too bad...but I need to work on the marriage, or get another one, or do without. I’ll have six days at home before the trip to Bangladesh. Ten days altogether on that adventure. God, I’m not looking forward to it. I don’t want to leave Cory again so soon. But then I should be home for a month or more except for a few speeches that I can give without staying overnight. The image that filled Jennifer’s mind brought her great pleasure - Cory’s face breaking into that amazing smile whenever she walked through the door.
I am always stunned to see how magnificent the humans can be when they devote their extraordinary minds and skills to the right issues, to the common good. But why do so many concentrate all their resources on themselves, or the wrong endeavors? I, Luggalor.
Jennifer’s thoughts turned to the upcoming trip. Bangladesh will be a real bummer. I’m only going because of my low rank on the committee. I’m certainly concerned enough, but I just don’t have the stomach for the kind of suffering I’ll see. Some people need to see it to know it’s there, its magnitude. I don’t and it will depress me for a long time. As it should. Bangladesh is our worst nightmare come true... early. Well, the Middle East ranks up there at the moment. Just a different type of nightmare. Not like those I used to have where I die a horrible death....but the one where my parents do and I’m forced to watch. Is one worse than the other? The trip might be cancelled if the Israeli situation gets worse...not something to hope for...there’s no lesser of the two evils this time.
Environmentalists and the scientific community have been predicting various stages and effects of global warming for a long time. Bangladesh proves once and for all they were all off - on the conservative side. They thought the temperature rise in fifty years could cause the polar ice to melt enough to raise sea levels to dangerous levels. It has taken only twenty, some beaches and condos are already in jeopardy, and new marshland is lapping at shopping centers. But our problems pale next to those of Bangladesh. Many people think global warming causes more heat and less rain and in certain areas of the world that’s exactly what’s happening. Bangladesh, however, has the opposite problem. There’s much more rain and runoff from the Himalayas than before, and the severe and constant flooding it causes, along with the loss of one-sixth of their land to the rising sea, has wreaked havoc with what was at best a primitive and inefficient agricultural industry. Acid rain caused more widespread damage earlier than predicted, and its effects are magnified there because of the sea level and flooding situation. Throw in one of the world’s fastest growing populations of not just dirt poor but starving people, displaced into horrid, squalid, disease ridden camps...a recent, full blown regional AIDS epidemic...a corrupt government and a terrorist oriented insurgency, both of which keep food and medical relief away from the millions who desperately need it...it’s a microcosm of the world’s worst problems. And a harbinger of what’s to come, in more places and likely with more devastating circumstances...as inconceivable as that now seems. Guilt. I should feel guilt for feeling so good a minute ago when the world is going to hell in a hand basket. But I understand that irony, how that works...how I can, and have to, view the two as separate entities at times...many times. Or it’s just too depressing. Jennifer reached for the in-flight magazine and turned to the listing of audio programs. Country Sounds; The Best of Rock; An Evening of Comedy; Beautiful Bach, Fugue in C Major; Broadway Classics; Let’s try Broadway. Plugging her earphone set in to the armrest, she turned the knob to channel six.
I started to leave Jennifer, but the sound coming through her earphones kept me with her. Elegant, soothing tones mesmerized me. I had not heard a Bach fugue since the last time I was on planet 1003, over eight complete revolutions of the source star ago, so I went to the lens of a young man across the aisle that had his earphones on.
“Ha Haaaaaaa...Haaaa Haaa.” A male voice blasted through the earphones. The young man’s mind was filled with vivid images of his interpretation of the story coming through the earphones. Nothing else broke through to his conscience thought. His eyes remained closed, he kept laughing...roaring now, oblivious to all those around him.
Leaving the laugher, I tried the lens of a girl in a military uniform two rows back. She was madly tapping her hands against the armrests and what was coming through her earphones was definitely not a Bach Fugue.
In my invisible form, I placed myself in an empty seat. Glancing around at the different humans I decided to try the lens of a man with glasses and long hair, whose sight mechanisms were fixed on a book. The wondrous sounds of the Fugue in C major again captivated me, and I decided to stay with this human, but concentrate on my own thoughts
This trip back to planet 1003 has so far been a qualified success. The humans are as fascinating as ever, and now the Council, due to the insights gained from my visits using the lenses, has a direct line of sight into the reasons behind the innumerable variations of their thoughts and actions. I have been more intrigued than ever by their behavior since developing an understanding of the thought processes that caused each of them to think and function the way they do.
But understanding the reasons for their behavior was only half of the equation. The other half, and the reason the council sent me back for a third visit, was to try to determine if anything can be done to change the destructive thoughts and actions that are so prevalent, and such a serious threat to 1003. From what I have seen in the short time I have been back, the fate of the planet and all its life forms are more in doubt now than when I was last here...and the prognosis was not good then. And of course I must still find The Wise One. When my prior visit was cut short due to the emergency on Planet 3683, I left before finding The Wise One.
The Wise One...I wonder when I will receive the instructions to enable me to find The Wise One. The Council has always known about the existence of The Wise One. I wonder if The Wise One will have the answers.
The human listening to the Fugue in C major fell asleep and the music kept repeating. I was transfixed by the magical, sublime sounds until a man’s voice interrupted, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our final approach.” I, Luggalor.
2012
JUDEAN DESERT, ISRAEL
“Gin!” John shouted, slapping his cards, face up and arranged by suits, onto the camouflaged, nylon liner spread out on the sand. “That’s ten bills, ten buckeroos, Cristol. You better quit and go clean your weapon again before I take everything you own.”
“I’m not worried, Sergeant Champion. Besides, what the hell do I need money for out here anyway. If I lose it all, I’m confident you’ll take pity on me and buy my beer, just like I’m going to do for you after I finish my comeback and get my money and all of yours and all of Jones’s that you won yesterday.”
“All right, Cristol, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Just trying to look out for you, you know. Got to take care of all my guys.”
John thought about Private Nathan Cristol as he gathered in the cards and began to shuffle. He liked the kid a lot. Sure didn’t look like your typical Marine...didn’t act like one either. Short with a small frame, but unlike so many short guys in the Corp, he didn’t have that ‘Napoleonic, can’t-wait-to-take-on-anything-that-moves-to-prove-I’m-a-tough-guy’ complex. He was tough all right, but in a different way. Cristol had never been quite able to hide his fear when he was scared. Many times he didn’t try...but he always did whatever he had to do, scared or not, and John appreciated and respected the hell out of that. He was honest...not only with what he said and did, but with his feelings...and that kind of honesty seemed practically nonexistent in this group of trained killers that John was convinced had one of the highest ratios of insecure, confused, macho-wannabees in existence. John dealt, effortlessly, quickly spinning each card to rest on top of the previous one...in front of the private, then to himself, then to the private.
“Hey sergeant, I got you this time. Not a pra
yer, not one lousy prayer do you have. These are the cards that will turn the tide, the beginning of the end for you. You’ve had it.”
John recalled wondering, when Cristol first came into the platoon, what led him to the Marines. After they had talked a few times, he asked, and Cristol explained that he had been in some trouble with drugs, dropped out of school, and his family had cut him off. He reached a low point and decided the best way to make significant changes was to do something he knew would be hard and out of character for him, but would teach him some discipline and get him straightened out as quickly as possible. He had laughingly told John it all would have worked out great if he could have just left the Marines as soon as he had his head back on straight...which he said took about two weeks of boot camp.
John knew Cristol was scared now, as they all were. But he was confident he could count on him once the shooting started...as much as he thought he could count on any of them, including himself. And Cristol was Jewish. John sensed he was not very religious, but thought it must mean something extra to him...being over here. A deep, serious thinker. It must effect him.
John took a chance and discarded one of his two sixes to draw to the seven, eight and nine for a straight. He wasn’t counting cards as he usually did, but was pretty sure he saw one six come across. He drew the ten of hearts and nonchalantly tossed them face up. “Hell of a comeback, Cristol. Man, aren’t you ever going to learn?”
His body jerked over for what must have been the twentieth time during the long hours John had been trying to fall asleep. Outside the camouflage and tent to get as much air as possible, he still sweated like a hog. These guys who were here a couple of months ago and keep talking about it being cool now compared to then, what the hell does it matter...ninety degrees at night, a hundred and fifteen during the day…Jesus. I’ll look for shooting stars....God, I’ll never forget the stars here, incredible. Seems like a lot of the paintings of the night sky in this part of the world are filled with stars or a huge moon, or both. Talk about realism...they’re zillions of them, and the cloud of the Milky Way is so clear.
