Helen conducts section, can’t prevent Michael from being dissed
Helen stood with her back to the chalkboard, satisfied that for at least once her section was having a half-way decent discussion. The subject had shifted from China Men to Raymond Carver, but that was fine with Helen as long as they didn't have to hear more about Peak's escapades in Guatemala.
“I think the impulse to fix the meaning of texts in an absolute way is part of a patriarchal system which freezes literary interpretation in order to prevent feminist re-readings,” Maria said.
Helen forced her eyes upwards. She saw that her section, by their expressions, postures and murmurs of assent, agreed with Maria. She was torn between pleasure that Maria had broken her contemptuous silence, and irritation at the flat, authoritative tone the words were delivered in. Feeling that Maria was being way more dogmatic than was appropriate, Helen decided to try and open the conversation up.
“What do other people think? Is it a good idea if there is one true meaning to a book, or story, or whatever?”
“I think ultimately there must be a truth in what we read, else the act of reading would be pointless-an endless circle of people interpreting and re-interpreting, with no end, ever.” Michael said, in a voice that was not delivered with authority though his words were even and well-chosen.
“Maybe that's what it is,” said one student, who had a brown pony-tail and wore and orange and green pullover. He gained an appreciative laugh from many of the other students in the section, which he received with a grin and a self-conscious smoothing of some hairs that had escaped the rubber-band holding the rest.
“But if that's so,” said Michael, “how can literature ever actually do something? Like educate, or...”
Several students nodded in agreement.
“That's true, one murmured.”
“Good point,” another said.
Helen nodded as well. She liked the sound of Michael's well-phrased words. His measured and reasonable tones distracted her from her caffeine jitters. She hoped someone other than Maria would respond, but then she saw Maria lift her pinky finger, a motion which made her seem weirdly aristocratic.
“I'm not sure that's what education should be,” said Maria.
Helen looked around the room. She was pleasantly surprised to see that most of the students were paying attention, but none of them added anything. They merely followed the conversation between Michael and Maria by turning their heads back and forth. Helen found Michael very appealing because she knew he was being absolutely honest-which was rare in her section. He wasn't trying to please anyone with what he said. She hoped it didn't get him in trouble. She was about to say something, to unite the two sides harmoniously, because she thought it was silly for people to disagree about something like literature, when Peak raised his hand slightly.
“It's all true, though, Peak said. Everyone has their own truth, you know. It's capitalist bullshit to say there's just one way to do something. The government wants you to think there's only one truth. But you have to break on through that. To the other side, he concluded with a crooked smile.
Again the students sitting at the table nodded and murmured agreement. Michael, though, frowned and blurted out:
“But you have to be careful about the truth, and make sure you have the right one. I think Carver was demonstrating the degree to which everyone is intellectually responsible for his or her own salvation or damnation.”
Helen's eyes widened. She knew Michael's statement would get a negative reaction. What's more, she knew that he wouldn't expect such a personal response in an intellectual discussion. She felt hot in her face and the lower middle of her chest, hearing the rustle of bodies as the students tried to release the accumulated tension. Maria Gatellis rolled her eyes at Michael's statement. Helen heard murmurs and giggles and a whispered mockery, aimed against this obvious freshman that had violated the unwritten laws of the UCSZ section.
Maria looked into Helen's eyes, narrowing her eyes slightly. Helen felt a little intimidated by her direct gaze, but she could not allow the upper-class-woman to usurp her position. Helen decided to deflect Maria, and the rest of the section who had set themselves firmly against Michael, by stating their judgment in a more gentle way.
“Well, Michael, I think you're right to a degree. But you know, there are many things beyond the characters' control. To place all the blame on the individual removes any responsibility from society.”
Maria stared hard at Helen. Helen looked back with what she hoped was a pleasantly neutral expression. She wiped her hand on her pants. Her hand felt sweaty and scummy because of all the coffee she had drunk, and the ache in her left temple was getting harder to ignore. She remembered as she was wiping her hand that she had worn her white jeans that day, and realized with annoyance that there was now a faint brown stain on her leg. She leveled her head and smiled to her section as a whole, hoping the crisis had passed. But Peak had more to say, and with great misgivings, Helen gestured for him to speak.
“I think that saying someone's responsible for everything that happens to them is just a way of blaming the victim,” Peak said. “Here we have people getting totally screwed over by the system, and then you're saying it's they're fault? I think that's way out of line, dude.”
Helen stood and watched this exchange, trying to think of a way to steer her section away from the argument, since no good was going to come of further discussion. She looked at the faces of the students and sighed inwardly. They seemed set on judgment.
“But the question isn't society, the question is the individual's response to society,” Michael responded, his voice breaking at the end.
Nobody said anything. It was as if Michael had ceased to exist. He slumped, and seemed, to Helen, to withdraw from the world. Helen shrugged, and decided it was time to move on. Forgetting again, she wiped her hand again on her pants several times. She looked across the room to Michael. For the first time, his eyes met hers unyieldingly, but they were sad and disappointed. She had let him down. She realized just how much he liked her, and the absurdity of it all almost made her break out in laughter in front of the entire section. It was all so ridiculous. Why? Why not? What was wrong with him? Not only did he have no idea how to act in a UCSZ section, what business did he have getting a crush on her?
Helen felt helpless to aid Michael, and angry at him for being so defenseless and making an ass of himself. He was smart enough, but he lacked the social skills; the sense, the knowledge of what to say (and more importantly what not to say) in a UCSZ section.
Helen broke her gaze away and did not look back in Michael's direction for the rest of the section. There were only about five minutes left, so Helen decided to wrap things up. She told her class:
“I have your papers from two weeks ago.”
Helen passed out the evaluated papers to her students, noting that none of them would make eye contact with her. When she gave out the last one, she almost ran out of the room, she was so glad the section was over. She was glad she had coffee with Roxy at Fremont College to look forward to. Without that, she thought she might just go lie down in a bed of ferns under the redwoods and do nothing until the sun went down and the moon rose.
“I think the impulse to fix the meaning of texts in an absolute way is part of a patriarchal system which freezes literary interpretation in order to prevent feminist re-readings,” Maria said.
Helen forced her eyes upwards. She saw that her section, by their expressions, postures and murmurs of assent, agreed with Maria. She was torn between pleasure that Maria had broken her contemptuous silence, and irritation at the flat, authoritative tone the words were delivered in. Feeling that Maria was being way more dogmatic than was appropriate, Helen decided to try and open the conversation up.
“What do other people think? Is it a good idea if there is one true meaning to a book, or story, or whatever?”
“I think ultimately there must be a truth in what we read, else the act of reading would be pointless-an endless circle of people interpreting and re-interpreting, with no end, ever.” Michael said, in a voice that was not delivered with authority though his words were even and well-chosen.
“Maybe that's what it is,” said one student, who had a brown pony-tail and wore and orange and green pullover. He gained an appreciative laugh from many of the other students in the section, which he received with a grin and a self-conscious smoothing of some hairs that had escaped the rubber-band holding the rest.
“But if that's so,” said Michael, “how can literature ever actually do something? Like educate, or...”
Several students nodded in agreement.
“That's true, one murmured.”
“Good point,” another said.
Helen nodded as well. She liked the sound of Michael's well-phrased words. His measured and reasonable tones distracted her from her caffeine jitters. She hoped someone other than Maria would respond, but then she saw Maria lift her pinky finger, a motion which made her seem weirdly aristocratic.
“I'm not sure that's what education should be,” said Maria.
Helen looked around the room. She was pleasantly surprised to see that most of the students were paying attention, but none of them added anything. They merely followed the conversation between Michael and Maria by turning their heads back and forth. Helen found Michael very appealing because she knew he was being absolutely honest-which was rare in her section. He wasn't trying to please anyone with what he said. She hoped it didn't get him in trouble. She was about to say something, to unite the two sides harmoniously, because she thought it was silly for people to disagree about something like literature, when Peak raised his hand slightly.
“It's all true, though, Peak said. Everyone has their own truth, you know. It's capitalist bullshit to say there's just one way to do something. The government wants you to think there's only one truth. But you have to break on through that. To the other side, he concluded with a crooked smile.
Again the students sitting at the table nodded and murmured agreement. Michael, though, frowned and blurted out:
“But you have to be careful about the truth, and make sure you have the right one. I think Carver was demonstrating the degree to which everyone is intellectually responsible for his or her own salvation or damnation.”
Helen's eyes widened. She knew Michael's statement would get a negative reaction. What's more, she knew that he wouldn't expect such a personal response in an intellectual discussion. She felt hot in her face and the lower middle of her chest, hearing the rustle of bodies as the students tried to release the accumulated tension. Maria Gatellis rolled her eyes at Michael's statement. Helen heard murmurs and giggles and a whispered mockery, aimed against this obvious freshman that had violated the unwritten laws of the UCSZ section.
Maria looked into Helen's eyes, narrowing her eyes slightly. Helen felt a little intimidated by her direct gaze, but she could not allow the upper-class-woman to usurp her position. Helen decided to deflect Maria, and the rest of the section who had set themselves firmly against Michael, by stating their judgment in a more gentle way.
“Well, Michael, I think you're right to a degree. But you know, there are many things beyond the characters' control. To place all the blame on the individual removes any responsibility from society.”
Maria stared hard at Helen. Helen looked back with what she hoped was a pleasantly neutral expression. She wiped her hand on her pants. Her hand felt sweaty and scummy because of all the coffee she had drunk, and the ache in her left temple was getting harder to ignore. She remembered as she was wiping her hand that she had worn her white jeans that day, and realized with annoyance that there was now a faint brown stain on her leg. She leveled her head and smiled to her section as a whole, hoping the crisis had passed. But Peak had more to say, and with great misgivings, Helen gestured for him to speak.
“I think that saying someone's responsible for everything that happens to them is just a way of blaming the victim,” Peak said. “Here we have people getting totally screwed over by the system, and then you're saying it's they're fault? I think that's way out of line, dude.”
Helen stood and watched this exchange, trying to think of a way to steer her section away from the argument, since no good was going to come of further discussion. She looked at the faces of the students and sighed inwardly. They seemed set on judgment.
“But the question isn't society, the question is the individual's response to society,” Michael responded, his voice breaking at the end.
Nobody said anything. It was as if Michael had ceased to exist. He slumped, and seemed, to Helen, to withdraw from the world. Helen shrugged, and decided it was time to move on. Forgetting again, she wiped her hand again on her pants several times. She looked across the room to Michael. For the first time, his eyes met hers unyieldingly, but they were sad and disappointed. She had let him down. She realized just how much he liked her, and the absurdity of it all almost made her break out in laughter in front of the entire section. It was all so ridiculous. Why? Why not? What was wrong with him? Not only did he have no idea how to act in a UCSZ section, what business did he have getting a crush on her?
Helen felt helpless to aid Michael, and angry at him for being so defenseless and making an ass of himself. He was smart enough, but he lacked the social skills; the sense, the knowledge of what to say (and more importantly what not to say) in a UCSZ section.
Helen broke her gaze away and did not look back in Michael's direction for the rest of the section. There were only about five minutes left, so Helen decided to wrap things up. She told her class:
“I have your papers from two weeks ago.”
Helen passed out the evaluated papers to her students, noting that none of them would make eye contact with her. When she gave out the last one, she almost ran out of the room, she was so glad the section was over. She was glad she had coffee with Roxy at Fremont College to look forward to. Without that, she thought she might just go lie down in a bed of ferns under the redwoods and do nothing until the sun went down and the moon rose.
Works
Recent Writing
- 1989 A Novel: Tim and April walk to the liquor store
- Volume III: Helen meets Roxy for coffee at the Fremont College coffee shop
- Volume III: Tim walks back from Contemporary American Fiction
- Volume III: Helen conducts section, can’t prevent Michael from being dissed
- Volume III: Helen conducts section (HSZ version)