Another Generation Cometh

Last term, as I watched recovering alcoholic Michael Tripp speak to you during an assembly, I experienced a moment of recognition. It wasn’t a recognition of my own youthful stupidity with alcohol. It was that he reminded me of one of the reasons I became a teacher. There he was on stage exposing the painful truth of his life in an attempt to convince you not to travel the path he had taken. Quite simply, Michael wants you to live a better, happier, and more successful life than he did. He knows that alcohol and other drugs can rob you of life even as they give you the illusion of improving it. So he warned you of the danger; he hoped you could avoid it.

This desire to make the next generation better than the older one that gave birth to it is the same motivation that drew me and, I believe, many of my colleagues into teaching. It is the same desire that motivates many parents. We want you to learn, from both our successes and our mistakes, to be better than we are. You see, we’re afflicted with this sad idealism; we honestly believe that you are the future. We believe that, if you are better than we–if you can build on what we have already learned–the world will also be better.

You might wonder why I call this idealism sad. Well, it seems to me sad because it bears so little relation to reality. Each generation hopes for a better world, but the hope seems to collide with reality and human nature. My parents wanted my generation to be better, just as their parents wanted theirs to be better. I look around and see few signs of improvement. Despite our walks on the moon and air conditioning and genetic engineers and A-bombs and email, humanity hasn’t made very impressive progress in the last 3000 years. We may stand on the shoulders of the intellectual giants of the past–we may be closer to determining the age of the universe or creating artificial intelligence–but we still seem a brutal, empty, lazy species.

Nothing so vividly captured our inability to improve as a picture in last week’s Newsweek. It was the image of a 7-year-old child lying in a puddle of blood in a street in Sarajevo. He had been shot by a sniper. He could have been in Rwanda or Lebanon or Ireland or Colombia or Mexico or Algeria or any one of our own city streets. He could have been my daughter. He could have been you. His death reflected the victory of centuries of hatred and the defeat of the Michael Tripps–the idealists, the teachers, the parents who believe that we can free ourselves from the stubborn stupidity of the past.

This is really what your education is all about–freeing yourself from centuries of stupidity. We seem embedded in an endless struggle. On one side are the teachers and parents who want you to free yourselves from the failures of the past, who believe that your generation can be better than theirs. On the other side, are those who would doom you to repeat the past–who would replicate in you their prejudices, their bad habits, their ignorance.

I have to be honest with you and admit that I am less optimistic about the outcome of this struggle than I was when I first became a teacher. It saddens me to think that our past continues to be our present and could become your future. It saddens me to suspect that, instead of holding the future in your hands, you hold only the past.

Why do I have such lugubrious thoughts? Because, as I watched Michael Tripp, I wondered who was listening. My bet was not many–certainly not enough. My parents’ generation didn’t listen; neither did mine. Why should you be any different? Evidently, in every generation more powerful teachers win the struggle for the attention of the young. The truth seems, indeed, to be a cliché: actions speak louder than words. Humans are an imitative species, and our tendency is to ape the behavior of our ancestors. Their actions are more compelling teachers than were their aspirations, their hopes, their words for us. The beaten child becomes the child beater. The children of racists become racists. Violence begets violence. Materialism and greed beget materialism and greed. Mindless destruction of the planet begets mindless destruction.

Of course, if this is true, it seems reasonable also to conclude that kindness must breed kindness, that tolerance will create tolerance, that the children of those who live in harmony with the world will also live in harmony with it. And this is, indeed, the case.

Why then is the world not a better place? Why is a 7-year-old shot by a sniper? Why does Hitler still attract so many followers? Why are Jews still persecuted? Why was Martin Luther King assassinated? Why would someone not shake your Black classmate’s hand? Why will so many of you cook your brains on drugs?

These are difficult questions, and I lack the wisdom to answer them. Part of the answer may be that there are more sinners than saints. Or it may be that the corrupt have more power than those who are good. Or it may be that humanity has a longer tradition of intolerance and destruction or a greater attraction to evil. Or it may simply be that we are too lazy to change our habits–despite our good intentions.

But I do know that this oppressive cycle of destructive and self-destructive behavior must be stopped. At some point, one generation must break free of our lemming-like plunge over the same cliffs. And despite my growing pessimism, I still believe that you represent our best hope.  If you’ll listen. If you’ll think. If you’ll take your education seriously.

I know that many of you do. That’s what this assembly is all about–to recognize your commitment to your education. I hope your commitment is deep and real, and I hope it will inspire others of your generation to follow your lead. Education is not about quadratic equations and dangling modifiers. These are merely tools to develop your intellect, on which rests the future of humanity. On the intellect of all of you, not just a few of you. You’ll know you have succeeded if you never have to stand before your children and give a speech like this one.

Alden Blodget retired from a lifetime in schools as student, teacher, administrator, parent, and trustee. He currently is a volunteer tutor. This speech is one of many that he collected and published in a book, Dead Man Talking.

Like most of the pictures on TeensParentsTeachers, the picture posted with this article is courtesy of a free download from Pixabay.com.