Thursday, February 5, 2009

Michelangelo's David

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"Rules"

5 February, 2009

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One day in first grade our teacher had us build "math blocks." We drew numbers or symbols on some pre-printed froms, then cut them out of the paper, folded them up, and pasted them into a cube shape. Then we were told to roll them like dice, and construct math problems from the numbers and shapes. We were to write down the problems and their solutions.

While we were doing this, the teacher was working on something in an adjoining room, and an assistant teacher who had recently joined our class was monitoring us. At one point when I rolled my blocks, one landed precariously on the edge of my desk. I was writing my equation when the one block fell down. I took that as a sign from the universe and changed the equation from something like "3 + 5" to "3 - 5" and wrote as the answer "2 in the hole."

The assistant teacher noticed this and tried to explain to me that it was wrong. "You can't subtract a big number from a small number." I argued. I probably did more than argue. In any case, the teacher came in to see what the fuss was. She looked at my paper, listening to the assistant's description of what happened. Then she asked me to explain how I got my answer. She told me, "We're not really supposed to worry about negative numbers, just yet, but you've got the right idea."

The assistant was upset. She pointed to our math workbook. "The book says that you can't subtract a large number from a small number!" When the teacher pointed out the book was technically incorrect, the aide responded with, "But children have to learn to follow the rules!"

"They also have to learn that there are different rules for different situations, and how to figure out which rules apply when." The assistant was horrified. "You can't tell them that! It will confuse them!" The teacher said something about discussing it later. Then she asked me, as a special favor to her, to pretend I didn't know about negative numbers, and to stick within the guidelines of the book. "Just to give it a try."

At a later point in the year our teacher had a baby, and we learned that the reason an assistant teacher had been brought in was precisely to take over the class for the final weeks of the school year. For me, they were among the most miserable weeks of my childhood memory. It seemed that she was out to get me. In retrospect, I realize the assistant teacher didn't really hold a grudge against me--she just subscribed to a different teaching philosophy than our regular teacher, as illustrated in the negative number anecdote above. Our regular teacher believed in reasoning with children, explaining why as much as possible, and persuading us to do things. The assistant believing in telling, not explaining.

While all of this is my hazy recollection of what happened (I almost certainly am not recalling the exact wording of the things the two teachers said while discussing my negative numbers incident, for instance), I do have a very clear memory of getting in trouble for something late in the year, being kept inside during recess and lectured by the assistant teacher: "I'm not going to put up with any more of your nonsense questions confusing the other children. We have more important things to do!"

I am often reminded of that assistant teacher. Particularly that "confusion" charge. A town council in England recently voted to ban apostrophes from street signs because, it was claimed, the punctuation mark confuses GPS untils and Mapquest and emergency service dispatchers. When it was demonstrated that this was absolutely not the case, they fell back to the "we have more important things" argument.

Much more insidiously, the same arguments are used by people who oppose equal rights for anyone who isn't them. Currently that means gay and lesbian people, but I remember a time when the same arguments were made about certain racial minorities. Just this week there was a public hearing at the state legislature about a law to expand the legal rights currently granted under the domestic partnership law. All the old arguments were trotted out: "We can't allow your relationships to be recognized! That will confuse the children!" "The book says you can't do that! We have to follow the rules!"

The rules appeal is especially annoying. First, the book actually doesn't say what you think it says on this topic in several of the passenges. The other passages only say what you think they say if you ignore the context that what is being condemned is all sexual activity, hetero or not, outside the confines of a committed relationship. And you're ignoring other passages nearby. Really, when was the last time you killed someone in your own church for committing the abomination of wearing clothes made out of more than one kind of fabric? Or executed someone for eating shrimp? Or kicked a man out of your church after he had surgery to remove cancerous testicals? If you claim to follow that ancient text but you aren't doing those latter things, you're picking and chosing which parts to believe. Finally, it's your sacred book. You are free to believe it all you want, but you have no right to force other people to obey it at all, let alone your inconsistent interpretation.

And the only reason some children are confused is because they've been lied to. Marriage is not an eternal institution existing exactly as we know it in Western societies now. The current legal definition of marriage has only been in force in America since the 1970s, when a federal judge struck down the idea that a wife's body was the property of her husband, for instance. Take a closer look at that ancient, sacred book. How many concubines did Abraham have? How many wives did Jacob have? And King Solomon! My goodness, hundreds of wives! And don't get me started on King David and Jonathan.

And finally, when all their other arguments were shot down, they resorted to: "We have more important things to worry about!" It's the last resort of the desparate. And it is part of a long tradition. A group of people called the Pharisees used the argument against an unorthodox and radical teacher named Jesus a couple thousand years ago. They used variations of the other arguments, as well. His answers were often given as parables or stories, which applied to the specific issue under discussion, but the subtext was always the same thing my first grade teacher said to the assistant: "There are different rules for different situations, and you need to learn to figure out which ones apply when."

If you want to keep the right to decide how you live your own life, you have to let other people decide how to live theirs.

Tsze-Kung asked, saying, 'Is there one word which may serve as a rule of practice for all one's life?"
The Master said, "Is not Reciprocity such a word? What you do not want done to yourself, do not do to others."
--Confucius
United We Dance .

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Previous Index Next Email	"Rules" 5 February, 2009
	One day in first grade our teacher had us build "math blocks." We drew numbers or symbols on some pre-printed froms, then cut them out of the paper, folded them up, and pasted them into a cube shape. Then we were told to roll them like dice, and construct math problems from the numbers and shapes. We were to write down the problems and their solutions. While we were doing this, the teacher was working on something in an adjoining room, and an assistant teacher who had recently joined our class was monitoring us. At one point when I rolled my blocks, one landed precariously on the edge of my desk. I was writing my equation when the one block fell down. I took that as a sign from the universe and changed the equation from something like "3 + 5" to "3 - 5" and wrote as the answer "2 in the hole." The assistant teacher noticed this and tried to explain to me that it was wrong. "You can't subtract a big number from a small number." I argued. I probably did more than argue. In any case, the teacher came in to see what the fuss was. She looked at my paper, listening to the assistant's description of what happened. Then she asked me to explain how I got my answer. She told me, "We're not really supposed to worry about negative numbers, just yet, but you've got the right idea." The assistant was upset. She pointed to our math workbook. "The book says that you can't subtract a large number from a small number!" When the teacher pointed out the book was technically incorrect, the aide responded with, "But children have to learn to follow the rules!" "They also have to learn that there are different rules for different situations, and how to figure out which rules apply when." The assistant was horrified. "You can't tell them that! It will confuse them!" The teacher said something about discussing it later. Then she asked me, as a special favor to her, to pretend I didn't know about negative numbers, and to stick within the guidelines of the book. "Just to give it a try." At a later point in the year our teacher had a baby, and we learned that the reason an assistant teacher had been brought in was precisely to take over the class for the final weeks of the school year. For me, they were among the most miserable weeks of my childhood memory. It seemed that she was out to get me. In retrospect, I realize the assistant teacher didn't really hold a grudge against me--she just subscribed to a different teaching philosophy than our regular teacher, as illustrated in the negative number anecdote above. Our regular teacher believed in reasoning with children, explaining why as much as possible, and persuading us to do things. The assistant believing in telling, not explaining. While all of this is my hazy recollection of what happened (I almost certainly am not recalling the exact wording of the things the two teachers said while discussing my negative numbers incident, for instance), I do have a very clear memory of getting in trouble for something late in the year, being kept inside during recess and lectured by the assistant teacher: "I'm not going to put up with any more of your nonsense questions confusing the other children. We have more important things to do!" I am often reminded of that assistant teacher. Particularly that "confusion" charge. A town council in England recently voted to ban apostrophes from street signs because, it was claimed, the punctuation mark confuses GPS untils and Mapquest and emergency service dispatchers. When it was demonstrated that this was absolutely not the case, they fell back to the "we have more important things" argument. Much more insidiously, the same arguments are used by people who oppose equal rights for anyone who isn't them. Currently that means gay and lesbian people, but I remember a time when the same arguments were made about certain racial minorities. Just this week there was a public hearing at the state legislature about a law to expand the legal rights currently granted under the domestic partnership law. All the old arguments were trotted out: "We can't allow your relationships to be recognized! That will confuse the children!" "The book says you can't do that! We have to follow the rules!" The rules appeal is especially annoying. First, the book actually doesn't say what you think it says on this topic in several of the passenges. The other passages only say what you think they say if you ignore the context that what is being condemned is all sexual activity, hetero or not, outside the confines of a committed relationship. And you're ignoring other passages nearby. Really, when was the last time you killed someone in your own church for committing the abomination of wearing clothes made out of more than one kind of fabric? Or executed someone for eating shrimp? Or kicked a man out of your church after he had surgery to remove cancerous testicals? If you claim to follow that ancient text but you aren't doing those latter things, you're picking and chosing which parts to believe. Finally, it's your sacred book. You are free to believe it all you want, but you have no right to force other people to obey it at all, let alone your inconsistent interpretation. And the only reason some children are confused is because they've been lied to. Marriage is not an eternal institution existing exactly as we know it in Western societies now. The current legal definition of marriage has only been in force in America since the 1970s, when a federal judge struck down the idea that a wife's body was the property of her husband, for instance. Take a closer look at that ancient, sacred book. How many concubines did Abraham have? How many wives did Jacob have? And King Solomon! My goodness, hundreds of wives! And don't get me started on King David and Jonathan. And finally, when all their other arguments were shot down, they resorted to: "We have more important things to worry about!" It's the last resort of the desparate. And it is part of a long tradition. A group of people called the Pharisees used the argument against an unorthodox and radical teacher named Jesus a couple thousand years ago. They used variations of the other arguments, as well. His answers were often given as parables or stories, which applied to the specific issue under discussion, but the subtext was always the same thing my first grade teacher said to the assistant: "There are different rules for different situations, and you need to learn to figure out which ones apply when." If you want to keep the right to decide how you live your own life, you have to let other people decide how to live theirs.
	Tsze-Kung asked, saying, 'Is there one word which may serve as a rule of practice for all one's life?" The Master said, "Is not Reciprocity such a word? What you do not want done to yourself, do not do to others." --Confucius .
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