When his students find reality more compelling than fiction, this teacher, a former anarchist, finds it hard to play the authority card.
Sep 24, 1999 | I got double-teamed in my "World Culture" class last semester by two women who provided me with the new rules for student intellectual conduct. We had just completed discussing Carlos Fuentes' novel "The Death of Artemio Cruz" when Beverly turned in her paper, ostensibly on the novel. It started with a short history of Gen. Obregon, who was president of Mexico from 1920 to 1925. She listed Obregon's achievements, concluding that he was the most progressive president in Mexico's modern history next to Cardenas. The only mention of Fuentes' novel was a remark that "Artemio Cruz lived during the time of Obregon's presidency." The thing went on for about five pages.
I wrote Beverly a short note: "Beverly, please see me. Your paper is about Gen. Obregon, not Fuentes' novel. David." Beverly appeared about a month later, after ignoring at least four reminders. She said, "What's wrong with it? I did the assignment."
"The assignment was to write something about the Fuentes novel," I said. "You barely mention the novel in your paper. There is only a bunch of stuff about Gen. Obregon."
Then she pulled out her notes from the day I gave the assignment and pointed to No. 14, which said, "Consider the historical context for the novel." She declared, "I did that."
I stared at No. 14 for a minute to make sure that the loophole wasn't big enough for her to drive her particular truck through. "The historical context was meant to be discussed in terms of the novel," I said finally. "You've turned in a paper that is only about Gen. Obregon. There's no novel there. Hold the tuna; just bring the toast."
She looked at me.
Then she said, "Gen. Obregon supported Madero in the revolution against Diaz. He was from the state of Sonora."
I said, "What do you do in chemistry, turn in the calcium content of Gen. Obregon? And in ancient history, Greece according to Gen. Obregon?"
She was staring at me.
"Gen. Obregon's most significant achievement was in the field of education."
"You've gotta keep a guy like Gen. Obregon handy," I said. "Never know when you're going to need a little information, know what I mean?"
"Gen. Obregon had a long battle with the Catholic Church and was assassinated by a fanatical Catholic," she said.
I decided to switch tactics. I asked her if Artemio Cruz would have liked Gen. Obregon. She said that Gen. Obregon never knew anybody named "Artemio Cruz." I asked her if Gen. Obregon would have approved of the values of men like Artemio Cruz. She said that Gen. Obregon was too far above things like that.
I was getting tired. So I asked her if she had read, "The Death of Artemio Cruz."
"I read about a third of it and it was too confusing. I couldn't figure it out so I got bored with it. I thought I ought to learn something, so I read about Gen. Obregon."
She had me there. Suddenly I wasn't sure whether it was more important to know about Gen. Obregon or about Artemio Cruz. What the hell. Her bit of historical research was actually pretty damned good.
So I started to ask her, "Who do you think is more important to know about ..." but stopped hurriedly. That's ridiculous, I thought. She's going to say, "Gen. Obregon, silly. Artemio Cruz is just a character in a book. Gen. Obregon really happened!"
I was insulted by her affront to my authority, her refusal to submit to it, but playing the authority card is always difficult for an old anarchist anyway. Before I could formulate my next tactic, she was out of her seat, looking at her watch.
"Hey, " she said, "you figure it out. I've gotta get to my English class."
"Don't forget the poem about Gen. Obregon," I said to the back of her T-shirt.
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