Mary Badham, Gregory Peck in "To Kill a Mockingbird"
Michael Gerson, conservative columnist for the Washington Post, recently had a nice account of how his son’s eighth-grade reading list is preparing kids for life. While Gerson dismisses Romeo and Juliet (a mistake in my mind since the play is effective at articulating the consuming nature of adolescent passion–although teachers should have their students explore, not simply romanticize, that passion), he sees Lord of the Flies and To Kill a Mockingbird as providing children with vital life lessons.
Of course, as a conservative opposed to Obama, Gerson would probably not accept last week’s post on Lord of the Flies where I argued that Golding’s novel captures the nihilism of today’s American rightwing. But he’s right in seeing the novel as applicable to the serious problem of adolescent bullying. Gerson writes,
William Golding’s screaming, painted savages — first hunting wild pigs, then other children — are exaggerations. But not always. Jamey Rodemeyer — a 14-year-old who recently committed suicide in Buffalo — was hunted. Internet bullies targeted his sexuality. “I wouldn’t care if you died,” said one posting. “No one would. So just do it :)”
Gerson believes that To Kill a Mockingbird can counter Golding’s pessimism:
Unlike Golding, Harper Lee gives the adult world a moral voice. Atticus Finch teaches his children, Jem and Scout, that the proper response to injustice is courage — a virtue that appears in unexpected places and shines brighter as hope fades. “It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin,” Atticus explains, “but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.” It is present in Mrs. Dubose, choosing death without the comforts of morphine, and in Atticus himself, pressing his hopeless case against bigotry. Rather than a decisive battle, courage is a little voice at the end of the day saying, “I’ll try again tomorrow.” It is a hidden epic, a quiet Iliad.
Gerson concludes,
This is the hope that unites parents and teachers: not that human nature can be changed but that moral education is possible. That a 13-year-old, like many who came before, might glimpse real courage in imaginary lives. That the end of innocence might be the start of sympathy. That even junior high can include a little grace.
Amen.
Added note
I describe here how Harper Lee’s novel came to my add when I faced the hardships of my own middle school years. For me, it helped me hold my ground when confronted by segregationist classmates in 1963 Tennessee.
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