Janie Slaven: THE TEACHER'S DESK: An island, a classroom, and freedom

Feb. 4—Despite the gray morning filled with a cold drizzle, I eagerly took my first block students to a deserted island today. They marveled as two disoriented boys emerged from a plane crash and pilfered along the despoiled beach where the downed aircraft left a long scar in nature's stillness.

Today, we started the novel Lord of the Flies by William Golding, and I was thrilled to introduce these developing minds to something they might find inspiring or interesting. After all, the longstanding book is about a bunch of students trapped on a tropical island without any adults.

I intended to begin teaching the novel last week but was besieged again with the dreaded COVID. Even today, as I began my lecture, I became short of breath and had to slow down, despite my excitement about Golding's allegoristic story.

I think most teachers would admit, one of the most satisfying parts of teaching is introducing young minds to new concepts and stories that students might not encounter if not for the classroom. For example, Lord of the Flies is not just about the boys trapped on the island, rather it is about society, man as a whole, and how he will develop or end on this little blue island floating in space.

As I walk about the class, there is something about holding the book in my hand, its pages marked with ink and post-it notes, a tattered testament to Golding's interpretation of mans' innate sense of savagery without the guidance of some kind of society. My students' faces are curious as I hold the book and express my love for the symbolism within. Smirks and grimaces, smiles and nods filter through under the halogen lights.

Consequently, upon returning to class, I made a profound connection to the book. Basically, the overly optimistic Golding (sarcasm) is saying that without some kind of supervision, man will fall to barbarity. In a smaller context, this concept becomes truth for me as I find that in my absence numerous students refused to attempt any work. Without that supervision, some students basically did nothing in class regardless of my pleas from home.

Now, this is not a mark against any substitute. In fact, I had some of the best subs I have ever had while mandatorily waylaid. It is simply a fact that if given the chance some clever youth will push the boundaries to see what they can get away with. In some ways that's the job of being young. In others, it is disobedience — pure savagery!

Indeed, as we enter into the reading of Lord of the Flies, I find it is an adequate segue back into the classroom as I come across papers unwritten, annotated bibliographies not attempted, time wasted to the point of grades falling by leaps and bounds. The momentum my class had gathered was replaced with something lagging. I was reminded briefly of Golding's narrative voice regarding his island. He said, "The world, that understandable and lawful world, was slipping away."

Today, after my raspy introduction to the novel, we read the first ten pages of the first chapter in subjective silence, the halogen lights flickering in the classroom and the radiator coming to life with an annoying hum. (I know it's not a radiator anymore. It's an air system. However, it's on the floor, sticks out from the wall, makes a loud noise when it starts, kicks out heat, and works half the time. A horse is a horse no matter what name you give it.)

The book is an obvious representation of mankind, but my class's actions while I was sick were a thematic example of the book. While I am not a stringent rule-follower (the English Schoolmaster of Golding's lifetime), I do believe in common sense and order, and that hopefully begins to develop at first in a person with following some kind of guidelines in youth.

As the class progressed, I think they liked the beginning of the novel. They definitely read under my watchful eye and will have that proverbial quiz and discussion after each chapter. However, I hope they understand that while the freedom the stranded boys enjoy at the beginning of the book is exciting and liberating, eventually there is a responsibility to morality and logic.

In reflection, I have noticed that sometimes the more unchecked freedom we give our youth, the more their excuses to do what they want instead of what is right are validated by the threat of the loss of that freedom. That's dangerous, because more and more the word "freedom" is being used against logic and common sense. It is not synonymous with ignorance, apathy — or even selective creativity. Youth should undoubtedly be given freedom and responsibility but need to understand freedom isn't a door that determines entitlement, rather freedom exists because of correct choices.

Brian Theodore is a language arts teacher at Corbin High School and lives in Corbin with his wife, who is also a teacher at CHS. He can be contacted at Theteachersdesk.theodore@gmail.com.