The Monkey King's Used Primate Emporium and Book Reviews

previous - next - random review

Howard Zinn, �You Can�t Be Neutral on a Moving Train�

Started June 30 � Finished July 1, 2003; 214 pages. Posted 14 July 2003

I just heard that one of my friend�s child (oops, maybe it�s my unfriend, I�m not sure at the moment) said her first word: �No.�

I�m pretty sure that was my first word as well. So if that�s an indicator of what�s to come, she�s in for a world of hurt.

See, the word, �no� has been the cornerstone of my existence. I�ve used it often and repeatedly, even when I didn�t mean it. �No� sounds so much better than �yes,� doesn�t it? Clean your room. �No.� Do as I say. �No.� Vote for me. �No.� You get the point.

The word no was the only thing I remember about my first forays in the school system, whereupon I was thrown out (and I�m not kidding here) of preschool. Wanna know why? They told me to take a nap. Guess what I said.

My parents, being the pseudo-hippies that they were, started an entirely new school system with the help of their friends, one that would let the child do what they wanted in these early years of school in order to promote their interests. The problem was what I found most interesting was saying, �No.� That didn�t fly too well, even amongst the hippies.

And so this continued, and needless to say (though I�ll say it anyway), my experience in middle school sucked, only to get worse during high school until I was ultimately kicked out. During this time, I remember only three instructors who were more interested in teaching me then enforcing some sort of conformity rituals. Two of them actually succeeded in teaching me things.

But two against an army of administrators who, to be fair, had probably dealt with hundred of others like me and didn�t see the point anymore, makes a hard fight to continue. These administrators gave up on me at the same time I gave up on them, and when they presented me with a bogus charge that I had broken into the school, complete with an �eyewitness,� I fought the criminal charge, but not the expulsion. (And for those who think I�m participating in selective editing for my own sake, the eyewitness said I was playing football in the hallways. Anybody who knows me even a little would exonerate me.)

Even so, with this �eyewitness,� my expulsion was imminent, though they said I had a right petition to remain in school.

I said no.

�It�s probably for the best,� the rat-faced counselor said. �You will never succeed in an educational environment with your attitude.�

For some reason, I believed that woman. After all, she was the one with the credentials on the wall. I was just a kid with Sid Vicious hair. (Yes, at one time I had a different hairstyle.) And so I said no even whilst others implored me to enroll at college. Finally, when one of my best friends was accepted at SCU, I decided to see if that counselor was right. I shouldn�t have been surprised to find she was flat wrong.

One of the first classes I enrolled in was for news writing, so imagine the pleasure I felt when I read this paragraph:

�If you were one of those kids in grade school or high school who had a hard time respecting authority, journalism might be a good profession for you. Some of the same traits that might have gotten you in trouble with your teachers might make you a good reporter� (News Writing � a Student Study Guide, Peter Berkow)

If that were all there was to my college career, it wouldn�t be worth mentioning. But again and again, I found teachers who encouraged my behavior and my penchant for saying �No.� Indeed, some seemed to downright relish it. And guess what? I succeeded. Take that, you rat-faced woman!

I bring this up not become I�m going through some sort of wispy reminiscence now that I�ve received my Bachelor Degree, but because Zinn in this book reminisces about his students. Zinn reminds me of the instructors I had that wanted me to succeed, rather then the ones that wanted me to shut up.

And while Zinn�s musings are interesting and engaging, his frequent points about students he was proud of, and more important, the ones that later contacted him to say thanks for his guidance, made me sad. There�s a few people that I still want to say thanks to. I�ve been careful to make sure my professors in college knew my appreciation, but unfortunately, those three teachers from high school have long escaped from my memory. I�ve racked my brain trying to remember them, just so I might drop them a line of thanks, but I can�t for the life of me remember their names.

I did, however, go back about three years ago to see the last high school instructor I ever had. I couldn�t remember her name either, but I showed up early and described what I remembered about her. They gave me a name of the person they felt matched my description.

I dropped into this instructor�s office later that day, when they told me she would be in. After entering the room, I was pretty sure the administrators had given me the wrong person. But now I was face-to-face with some instructor. I decided to fake it.

I introduced myself and explained that it had been at least eight years since we had seen each other. I told her about how I always remembered her kindness and willingness to respect me as a person with ideas and a personality all my own. I told this person who was most likely a complete stranger about how her encouragement gave me the strength and resolve to go back to school and succeed.

That�s when she started crying. This was one of those continuation schools, the last bastion for fuck-ups, a place where they consider themselves lucky if they reach a 20 percent success rate. I don�t think she had ever had somebody thank her for her work, as most of the kids she had to deal with were the ones who didn�t want to be there. Even if it wasn�t my instructor, I felt good about the experience.

I still feel good about doing that. And after reading Zinn�s book, I feel that I need to track down the other instructors to tell them the same thing.


Rating: Worth new.

previous - next - random review