Perma-pupils

Dear diary,

The reason I don’t go to school is that I hate being told what to do. If you go to school, the teachers make you listen to their claptrap, and then they give you HOMEWORK, which is a way of controlling your actions even when you’re out of their control-zone, and it’s a type of slavery cuz they literally force you to do WORK at HOME (ideally, home is a place where work should never be done), and finally the teachers test you on all this garbage: which is a technique common among fascists; testing lures you to think and act exactly like them, because they stand as judge over your answers; and, whether the test is multiple-choice or essay-based, the more your answers match the way the teacher thinks, the better your grade will be; whereas the more of a creative genius you are, the harsher they’ll scold you: you could even end up ostracized by society, for failing to act like a stupid little clone of your selfish teacher.

So that’s why I hate school. But I do believe in school. One can hate the current manifestation of an institution while still believing in the potential excellence of that institution’s eternal manifestation. I like the School of the Ages, because I imagine it to be a place where all my favorite poets, essayists, playwrights, filmmakers, actors, painters, & philosophers gather & converse freely with one another. There are round tables everywhere, because this version of heaven is like a cafe, and attendees can stand or sit while they pontificate, and refreshments are available at the self-serve counter near the entrance. There are no tests in the School of the Ages. You make art: you write, you speak, you paint, you sing, you play; and everyone acknowledges your offering and accepts you. People’s horizons expand because they find one another interesting; no one is coerced. People are idolized because they prove themselves magnificent: no one is commanded to bow to their inferior. Anyone who wants to participate in any discussion is allowed to join it; all that is asked is that everyone respect everyone else’s right to speak; so you wouldn’t want to interrupt John Keats while he’s discussing “Song of Myself” with Ludwig Wittgenstein and Picasso, unless you have, over many friendly exchanges, already established that level of rapport. What I like about the School of the Ages is that there’s no homework, because nobody ever leaves the cafe: it’s like The Exterminating Angel (1962) except everyone actually wants to remain herewithin. You’ve heard the expression “The party never stops”: that’s just what I’m talking about. The only people I’ve ever seen leave are Aristotle and St. Paul the Apostle; but they came back after a while, and they apologized to all for their previous behavior.

So the way that souls LEARN in the School of the Ages is thru experimentation, goofing off, and screwing around. In short, having fun. (For instance, on Monday we discovered that the correct spelling of learn is L – U – R – N.) (Isn’t that interesting?) And sometimes one’s views are valued because they are right, but even incorrect views are valued highly, on account of the charming way that they are delivered. Like, the other day, I was reading the intro section of my storybook La Man to Mark Twain – specifically the part that goes “But what does all this have to do with La Man?” – and Twain interrupted and said “I think that’s hogwash, & yet it’s all so uglily written that it almost feels beautiful.” So I got points with Mr. Twain for making him chuckle at his own joke; & he wrote me into his upcoming novel & let my character marry the clockmaker’s daughter.

So, in the School of the Ages, you get all the benefits of having quarrels and arguments, but without the negative aspects of those things; for, here, people don’t sink to refuting one another, they rather dive straight into the opposing mindset and veer; & then the survivors decide which style of sin to emulate. We like rebuttals, but we think our epoch on Earth had way too much of them: that age was rebuttal-mad, addicted to conflict; so, for the next few millennia, as a substitute for physical fisticuffs, we let our artistic creations dance with each other. If that sounds wimpy or simpering, then you’re a bad person – you’re not paying adequate attention. Basically our stance is “flux for flux’ sake”; and we’re the yugest adherents of self-contradiction.