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June 4, 2004 It was October and it was snowing. Everyone was used to it. They hurried along slush covered walkways, ignoring the soft blanket of pearly white that lay against the earth. Occasionally someone would stop and comment on the first snow of the year, but they were forced to flee for their lives as explosions of snowballs radiated from corners where people hid. This was followed by laughter. Eleanor stood in the doorway of her last class of the day, English. She smiled, she loved English. From the time she was a very small child she had been passionately obsessed with reading, getting lost in someone else's life. She loved books, stories of inspiration that made you want to make the world better. Her favorite books to read were biographies. "Oh look, it's our new student," said a teacher with a big smile. "Welcome. I'm Mrs. Wilson and you are just in time to start our new book." She handed Eleanor a paperback entitled God Bless You Mr. Rosewater, by Kurt Vonnegut. "Thank you," Eleanor said. She stopped and looked around the room. There was a desk in one corner with a computer and desks lining the wall, forming a circle. The center of the room was empty. On one wall was a large map, on another wall was a large whiteboard, and on a third wall there was a gigantic cork bulletin board. The fourth wall had nothing. "Where are you from?" Mrs. Wilson asked. "Montana," Eleanor said, "We moved because my mom got a better job writing for the newspaper here." "Where did you go to school before?" "I've been home schooled my whole life." Nodding with a feigned interest, Mrs. Wilson introduced Eleanor to the other teenagers in the class. There were four other guys and three other girls: John, Laura, Tom, Nancy, Martha, Will and George. Eleanor smiled and sat down in the seat closest to the door. Mrs. Wilson asked for a volunteer to tell Eleanor what had happened in the first two chapters of the book which they had just started. Nobody spoke. Finally, Mrs. Wilson called on Martha who agreed to explain the general plot. She was soft-spoken and glanced at the other students as she began to talk about the book. "Well, the first character we are introduced to is a lawyer named Norman Mushari who is only after money, and specifically he is after the money of Eliot Rosewater. He gets Eliot's money if he can prove that Eliot is insane. It's starting to be a satire of the United States in terms of money and power." "That's good," Mrs. Wilson encouraged with a broad smile. "Let's continue on that note. What are some good examples of the messages this book sends about money and society?" George spoke up, clearing his throat, "On page 28 it says 'Rome was a paradise for gangsters, perverts and the lazy working man, just as America is now.'" "That's a wonderful example. Let's divide into pairs and each find a good quote that talks about America," Mrs. Wilson suggested. "George and Laura should work together, Martha and Will, Tom and Nancy, and Eleanor can talk with me and I'll fill her in a little more on the book." With a raised eyebrow, Eleanor followed Mrs. Wilson to a corner of the room where she watched her teacher thumb through the book. "Now you'll have to read all of this to catch up," Mrs. Wilson said, "but basically what we are looking at is a satire, you know what that is?" Eleanor nodded. "And this satire makes fun of the society that we have in our country in which there are a few rich people and everyone else is poor." Eleanor was confused. "But that's not true, certainly not compared to the rest of the world." "Of course it is!" Mrs. Wilson exclaimed. "Now let's see what everyone else came up with in terms of quotes. George and Laura?" George spoke up slowly, "On page ten the book is talking about one of Eliot's ancestors Samuel who 'became even more interested in politics than his father had been, served the Republican party tirelessly as a king-maker, caused the party to nominate men who would whirl like dervishes, bawl fluent Babylonian, and order the militia to fire into crowds whenever a poor man seemed on the point of suggesting that he and a Rosewater were equal in the eyes of the law.'" Mrs. Wilson chuckled. "I love this book. What is the significance of that quote?" "Uh, Republicans are bad?" George guessed, running his fingers through his thick brown hair. "It's talking about the significance of Eliot's ancestry," Laura put in. "How his family has always consisted of these horrible people who were like kings and were cruel to anyone who didn't have power and money." She had beautiful hazel eyes that flashed passionately as she spoke. "That's true. His ancestors have all been very powerful Republicans who weren't the greatest people. Martha and Will, did you find a quote?" "Yes, page six, when it is talking about yet another one of Eliot's ancestors. It says 'Like so many American fortunes, the Rosewater pile was accumulated in the beginning by a humorless, constipated Christian farm boy turned speculator and briber during and after the Civil War.'" "Okay, good," Mrs. Wilson said. "What do we think this quote is saying about America? How do the people in this country make their money?" "Most of them are born into it," John said. "Nobody who has any money deserves it." "Okay, what do-" "Do you believe that?" Eleanor said suddenly. Every eye looked up to fall on her, this stranger who had appeared in their classroom so suddenly. "You really think that the United States is that bad? More people can work their way up from the lower classes here than anywhere else." "Yeah, right," Nancy laughed. "This is starting to sound like the conversation we had on foreign trip last year. We were over in Africa and the United States was at war with Iraq and we were saying some bad things about the United States and Americans when our guide turned to us with a look of confusion on her face and said 'Why do you guys think you are so bad?' She thought we should have been proud of the United States. Can you believe that?" "She obviously didn't go to school in this country," Eleanor said softly. "Last quote?" Mrs. Wilson called. "Nancy and Tom?" "Page nine. 'E plurabis unum is surely an ironic motto to inscribe on the currency of this Utopia gone bust, for every grossly rich American represents property, privileges and pleasures that have been denied the many. An even more instructive motto, in the light of history made by the Noah Rosewaters, might be: Grab too much or you'll get nothing at all.'" Eleanor had stopped listening, instead she stared out the window pensively. It was still snowing. Flakes drifted down from the sky fat and white and added to the thick layer that was already coating the ground. Winter was on its way. Outside the window, Eleanor saw a coyote making it's way through the aspen trees at the rim of the woods. The coyote's paws left little prints in the fresh snow. Laughter floated up through the window from the field. Obviously some other unsuspecting victim had been snowballed and it was amusing. The coyote, startled by the noise, lifted it's lovely head and fled into the woods. Eleanor sighed. "Eleanor, are you with us?" Mrs. Wilson asked. "I think you're wrong," she replied. "You think I'm wrong?" "I just don't believe that this country is that bad. I've traveled all over the country, and all over the world with my mom, and it is such a beautiful place. I refuse to believe that it is as bad as you are saying it is." She didn't look at her teacher, but instead reached down and touched the necklace she wore around her neck. It was a little silver charm that read 'The future belongs to those that believe in the beauty of their dreams,' a quote by another Eleanor many years ago, that one a President's wife. "Even if it is that bad," she went on, "If everyone believes that we are these horrible people, that really will drag us down. How can anything in the world be good if you don't believe in it?" "That's a very interesting view Eleanor," Mrs. Wilson said. "But I tend to believe that we need to understand our faults." From outside, the gong of the ringing school bell carried over the steps and stairs of the building to where the classroom sat tucked away in the back of the school. Mrs. Wilson quickly assigned them all reading for the night and they left the classroom. Eleanor was nearly ready to go home as she slipped her books in her bag. She quickly checked with Mr. Harrison, the Geography teacher, about what she had to know, and after he wrote down for her that she was responsible for knowing all of Chapter Four and the definition of the word ethnocentric, she slipped down the stairs and out to where her mother was waiting in the car. Eleanor was late for school the next day, and she flew in the door as fast as she could, rushing up the stairs and into Mrs. Wilson's classroom. The door banged behind her as she slipped into her seat. "Sorry I'm late," she exclaimed breathlessly, "Mom doesn't have snow tires yet, and we slipped into the ditch." "It's okay," Mrs. Wilson said with a rather fake smile. "Did you do your reading?" "Yeah," Eleanor replied, and stopped herself from saying any more. Instead she looked around at the rest of the class, searching for a face that might suggest that there was someone other than her who didn't like the novel. The only encouraging smile came from Laura who offered her a piece of gum as Mrs. Wilson turned her back. Grinning back at her gratefully, Eleanor took the gum and popped it in her mouth. "So what did everyone think of the reading last night?" "It was . . . . . . . .interesting," Eleanor said. "Interesting how?" "Well, don't you think it projects a view that serves to encourage an awful lot of shame in the United States?" "Yes," Mrs. Wilson replied. "Yes, I would say that is probably true. I think it absolutely shows the us the things we should be ashamed of in this country, and the money grubbing Republican ideals that we should beware of." "We should beware of the ideals and the wars," Will put in, "Bush and his wars." "Iraq," George replied, "Oil, oil, oil. Let's go shoot 'em all." "My mom and I debated the war in Iraq a lot," Eleanor said. "She tended to be against it, but I supported it just because of the human rights issues. Saddam Hussein's regime killed about half a million people." "The war was wrong. I believe in peace," Nancy said. Laura nodded in agreement. "I absolutely think we did the right thing in getting involved in Iraq," Eleanor commented. "It should have happened a lot sooner. American leaders have sworn continually that they will 'never again' allow mass genocide to take place. I don't think the situation in Iraq was any different than the Holocaust. Saddam Hussein killed more Iraqis than Hitler killed Germans." "That's not very peaceful," Nancy said. "I support peace." "And you believe that mass torture and murder chambers constitute peace?" "That's halfway around the world," Will said. "They aren't our problem. You can't pretend that you would rather hear about people being killed than watch Friends." "Peace," said Nancy, sounding as though she was chanting a meaningless mantra that eliminated all of her other problems. "And it's nothing like the Holocaust," Tom put in. "What are you talking about? We read a book about the Holocaust, about the yellow stars and death camps and Hitler Youth Corps." Mrs. Wilson was shaking her head. "Ah yes, the Hitler Youth. Whatever America's faults, you should all feel lucky to live here where you can educate yourselves in an unbiased manner. The worst thing about the Hitler Youth was that their goal was to 'get them when they're young and they don't know any better.' There is nothing worse than schools imposing a political agenda." Eleanor choked on her gum. "At any rate," the teacher went on, "we need to talk about the book. Don't kidd yourself Eleanor, the war in Iraq was just about oil. Nowhere is that talked about in God Bless You Mr. Rosewater however. Let's talk about the book." "I love it," Laura declared. "It's so deep and projects such thought provoking messages. When it talks about the Money River, and the people who are too stupid to know its there. This is America." Over the next few days, Eleanor kept up with her classmates in God Bless You Mr. Rosewater, and she was present for several more enlightening discussions. The book was very curious with its portrayal of the world, and what Eleanor found most disturbing were not the parts where the book talked about the failings of the United States of America, but where it focused on the people in it. As the book wore on, she came to notice that every character in the book fell into one of two categories; either they were rich, devious, and greedy or they were poor, stupid, and useless. The kind of uselessness that was projected in the book to describe the people of Rosewater Country made Eleanor feel lost. If people were really like that, what was the use of even getting out of bed in the morning? "They project such an awful view of society," she said to Mrs. Wilson. "I know," her teacher replied. "I agree with you, but on some level, don't you think it's partially true? In this country there are the rich ivy-league intellectuals, and the poorer class who have had their taxes sucked away by George Bush and read The National Enquirer in the checkout line." "The people who read The National Enquirer are not necessarily poor," Eleanor argued. "People can read whatever they want. Just as many wealthy people read as many useless things as they do thick, philosophical, literary books. Or, if what you are saying is true, would it be politically incorrect to wonder if these people who hold that poor lower class status do so because they choose to read The National Enquirer?" "That is going a bit far Eleanor," Nancy said. "You can't blame the people for their own lives. The blame ultimately comes down to the government, and by extension George Bush and the United States of America. By saying that poorer people choose not to read more enlightening material, you are implying that people have control over their own lives." Eleanor stopped and sighed. Maybe she was wrong. She felt as though she had been living her whole life with childlike idealistic delusions, and now her teachers had told her differently, as if they might tell someone that Santa Clause wasn't real. Parents put the gifts under the tree, George Bush sucks up all of the taxes to fund wars around the world, there are no flying reindeer, human beings are inherently stupid and greedy, the United States superpower is evil, and Mom ate the cookies on the mantle. The following day Eleanor missed part of her English class because she had to leave school for a doctor's appointment. She came back to find the class in disarray. Mrs. Wilson was nowhere to be found and the students were laughing and tossing paper airplanes around. The only calm person in the class was Laura, who was curled up in the corner of the room utterly engrossed in Time Magazine. Eleanor had been standing in the doorway for only a moment when the other students looked up and saw her. "Here's our optimist," Tom teased. "Out to save the world. There's always a pot of gold underneath the rainbow?" "No," Eleanor said. "I don't believe in that anymore. You all were right. And I'm not out to save the world. I used to want to get involved in changing things and really try to help people, but I don't really have that interest anymore. What's the use?" Looking down at her sneakers, Eleanor plopped into a chair at the same moment Mrs. Wilson swept into the classroom. "Okay, okay. Settle down. Everyone sit down and take out your books," she ordered, dropping into her desk chair and turning to face them. Everyone pulled out good old God Bless You Mr. Rosewater except for Laura, who remained curled up in the corner of the room, her whole body motionless except for her deep brown eyes which scanned the page quickly. "Laura, were you planning on joining us?" Mrs. Wilson asked. "Maybe in a minute," the girl replied, unintimidated by her teacher. "What are you reading?" "An article about the debate over whether this woman should be tried for indirect murder charges for the deaths of her children." "My mom wrote something about that," Eleanor said suddenly. "It was awful. She put down her two kids and told them daily that they were stupid and evil and eventually they killed themselves. It was terrible. She must have been a very sick person." "Yeah," someone else said. "She dragged her children down because she didn't believe in them." "You see? This country sucks." ------------ About the author: Natalie Amethyst is an opinionated incoming junior in high school whose passions are writing, traveling and debating politics. She also loves to read, ride horses and ski, and hopes to spend her life writing all over the world. Despite her neverending battle against the liberalism of her high school, she loves it dearly because of the opportunities it has provided for all of the above. Email: natalie3_8@hotmail.com Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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