The School by Donald Barthelme

 

The School by Donald Barthelme is one of the most loved of all pieces of postmodern short fiction. I certainly enjoyed reading and composing my write-up. Here goes:

Bad News in the Land of Plenty: Edgar the elementary school teacher starts by informing us, “Well, we had all these children out planting trees, see, because we figured that . . . that was part of their education, to see how, you know, the root systems . . . and also the sense of responsibility taking care of things, being individually responsible. You know what I mean. And the trees all died.” Sounds like Edgar is a well-meaning and sweet sort of guy but all that hesitation and “you know” speaks to how Edger has a basic lack of self-confidence, especially when things begin to go wrong.

More Bad News: Edgar goes on to tell us how, before the trees, the children’s snakes died, probably because the school boiler was shut off during a teacher’s strike. And then the herb gardens all died, probably because of overwatering by overly conscientious kids or maybe because of sabotage. Sabotage! So now Edgar and the school have to deal with the prospect of death caused deliberately and maybe even by one or some of the children. In this way, the stakes are raised. Poor sweet, well-meaning Edgar. I bet he never expected to deal with this kind of nasty issue when he decided to become an elementary school teacher.

The Wheel of Life and Death: After the gerbils die, the mice die, the salamander dies, the tropical fish dies, even the puppy one of the children found under a truck on day dies after the children keep it for two weeks, Edger and his class are face to face with the reality of death. Not easy, particularly in a culture where the subject of death is taboo. The Buddha suggested the practice of going down to the river to watch corpses of the dead burn on the fires for a week, repeating: "One day that will be me; one day that will be me." By such practice, a person directly experiences the ever-present reality of death and comes to appreciate the wisdom in the aphorism: "Life without death isn’t life but self-preservation." Unfortunately, in modern society where death is a taboo, death and dying happen at a remove from the eyes of the living, so, when people are directly confronted by death and forced to respond, the experience can come as something of a shock.

Kim from Korea: Through the "Help the Children" program, Edgar’s class adopts a Korean orphan named Kim. Shortly thereafter, the class receives a letter explaining how Kim died but the cause of Kim’s death is not stated. This is the first human death the class has to deal with. No question, the grim reaper is moving in even closer. But, for me, the tone of Edgar’s language here gives the impression that Kim’s death, since he is both an orphan and from Korea, isn’t quite as tragic had Kim been, like the children in class, American and had a family. Perhaps Donald Barthelme is making the tacit observation that for Americans, people in Third World countries simply don’t count as much.

Bad Luck: Edgar thinks the school simply is having a run of bad luck. And the bad luck continues with the deaths of many parents by heart attack, drowning, car crashes and two suicides. Two suicides! No comment from Edgar on the cause or circumstances involving the suicides or the children’s reaction to a parent’s suicide. This strikes me as quite strange, glossing over the suicides of children’s parents and then immediately moving on to note how grandparents have been dropped like flies. Actually, in terms of grandparents, as we all know, this is the predictable turning of the wheel. But remaining silent on the details of those two suicides. Goodness!

Tragedy: As Aristotle observed, we feel deeply and profoundly the tragedy of an individual’s life cut short when we know that person personally. Two boys from his class, Matthew Wein and Tony Mavrogordo, are crushed under wooden beams that collapsed at a local construction site. Yet Edgar rather breezily remarks how the parents are investigating negligence and “It’s been a strange year.” For me, I sense Edgar is a rather decent chap but when it comes down to it, the guy lacks depth of emotion and feeling. Again, Donald Barthelme might be making a general statement about late twentieth century American society, how we are so cut off from our emotions and feelings that even when confronted by the tragic death of two children we know personally, we simply shrug our shoulders and carry on. And, if these tragedies aren't enough, the kicker is Edgar’s off-the-hand remark about how Billy Brandt’s father was killed, knifed by a masked intruder in his own home. Again, the perplexing tone of Edgar's words, as if such an event is really nothing special, just another bit of bad luck.

The Showdown: The children come to class. They demand answers. What happened to all the animals? To Kim? To parents and grandparents? Teacher Edgar is placed on the spot. A philosophical discussion ensues followed by a plea that Edgar make love to Helen, the assistant teacher in the room. Helen walks up to Edgar and embraces him. Edgar, in turn, kisses her a few times on the brow. The children become excited. There’s a knock on the door. Edgar opens the door and the new gerbil walks in. The children cheer wildly.

An entire essay could be written about the concluding short paragraph of this story, however my observation here is simply to mention how absolutely rare it is to have such a public display of affection and intimacy, two teachers embracing and tender kisses on the forehead. Such is the reality of school: all the necessary skills taught, skills like reading, writing and arithmetic but very little, if anything, on those dimensions that give real depth to our lives, things like coming to grips with the reality of death and the yearning we all have for affection, tenderness and intimacy with others.

Coda: Some years ago I was part of Group Motion, a Friday night Philadelphia dance improv group wherein we would always dance for two hours with gentle, affectionate touching, occasional tender embracing and much heartfelt eye contact. At the conclusion we'd all sit in a circle and share our experience. I recall one dancer commenting: "It's amazing how we can actually get away with these Friday nights." Of course this comment is spot-on since the Group Motion experience is so contrary to the general way people interact in public. Truly ironic, even tragic, since we all yearn for tenderness, affection and making more than a superficial contact with others. I suspect the absence of such tenderness and affection is a major reason why people turn to heavy drinking and other numbing remedies.