190. The
Game Is Crooked: The Underground History of American Education by John Taylor
Gatto from archive.org
The
Game Is Crooked
Hannah Arendt's
analysis of the remarkable banality of Nazi-era organizational character calls attention to its excessive
orderliness, unfailing courtesy, neat files, schedules for everything, efficient supply
procedures, and
the dullness and emotional poverty of Adolf Eichmann, who supervised the
destruction of many lives without any particular malice. He even liked Jews. That he
was part of a company dedicated to the conversion of animate into inanimate on a wholesale basis wasn't his
fault. It was just a job. His
rational duty was to do his best at it. Unless mankind is allowed to
possess some peculiar godlike
dignity, a soul perhaps, Eichmann had a right to say to his critics — what difference between what I do and the
slaughter of British beef to prevent mad cow disease? Nothing personal. Is it a shortage of people that
makes you so angry?
That's the real point, isn't it? Once a
mission is defined with pure objectivity,
psychopathic procedure makes perfect sense. If men and women can think
about genocide that way, you can
understand why merely screwing up children wouldn't trouble the sleep of school administrators. Their job isn 't
about children; it's about systems
maintenance. The school institution has always had a strong shadow mission
to refute the irrefutable fact
that all kids want to learn to be their best and strongest selves. They don't need to be forced to do
this.
School is a tour
deforce designed to recreate human nature around a different premise, constructing proof that most kids don't
want to learn because they are biologically defective. School succeeds in this private aim only by
failing in its public mission; that's
the knuckle-ball school critics always miss. Only a delicate blend of
abject failures, midrange
failures, and minor failures mixed together with a topping of success guarantees the ongoing health of the
school enterprise. School is as good an illustration of the work of natural selection in
institutional life as we have. The only drawback is, the game is crooked. Like an undertaker who
murders to boost business or a glazier who breaks glass in the stillness of the night 2 to stimulate
trade, schools create the problems
they seem to exist to solve.
2 This particular form of rational
psychopathy has been an epidemic in the Northeast for decades, and it has
struck my own life more than once.
Some think that auto-glass installers send agents through lines of
parked cars late at night to crack their windshields on the sensible
supposition that in a trade
without many practitioners, a decent proportion of new work will go to the
creators of the need. Or perhaps the entire guild underwrites the trade, who knows?
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