Take that cannon and blow it up: What my students taught me about the literary canon
“This idea is that we’re Nordics. I am, and you are, and you are, and — And we’ve produced all the things that go to make civilization — oh, science and art, and all that. Do you see?”
— Tom Buchanan Chapter 1, The Great Gatsby
Last week, I started teaching The Great Gatsby. My students were really excited about it at first, most of them having seen or heard of the movie. But, as with other novels we’ve read this year, the enthusiasm quickly dipped.
I try really hard to make lesson plans that are relevant, and challenge my students to see different perspectives, but sometimes there’s no bells or whistles. It’s just high school English. After finishing chapter two, we did a bit of a characterization study. I asked, “What do we know about the characters using the STEAL acronym?”
Of all the characters, the one that inspired the most controversy was, not surprisingly, Tom Buchanan. His rant about The Rise of the Colored Empires (a not-too-subtle reference to Stoddard’s popular The Rising Tide of Color) and his fear of the white race being “utterly submerged” sparked no small amount of debate.
If you don’t remember that part — here’s the highlight:
“Well, these books are all scientific,” insisted Tom, glancing at her impatiently. “This fellow has worked out the whole thing. It’s up to us, who are the dominant race, to watch out or these other races will have control of things.”
Tom’s character sparked an interesting debate. When I suggested Fitzgerald had written Tom that way to shine a light on racism, and how in the 1920s Eugenics was being passed as a science to justify White supremacy, my students responded…
Of course, we addressed that not ALL white people were racist, and then we talked about the time in which Fitzgerald was writing. Students reluctantly agreed that maybe Fitzgerald’s audience wasn’t aware of how dangerous white supremacy could be, and that maybe the way Tom Buchanan was written challenged some readers who recognized a bit of themselves in the character. Then, they grew restless.
“Why do WE have to read this anyway?!”
We talked about the literary canon and how, while there has been some change, the powers that be still think the most important books are written by dead white men. They asked all the expected questions. Why can’t teachers choose what they want to teach? Better yet, why can’t the students?
One of the more outspoken young men answered in frustration. “She already told you. It’s that cannon. Imma take that cannon and blow it up!”
The class laughed and we got back to our characterization study.
His words haunted me, and I’ve been thinking about the lesson for days. Today it hit me. The canon and public education in general, in spite of the best efforts of the amazing teachers and incredible students, serve to do exactly what Tom Buchanan advocated. It’s all to maintain the status quo and keep the “have-nots” down. As much as the joke was funny, the purpose of the canon is the exact opposite of what my student had suggested. Those in power have (in the words of Tom Buchanan) “created science and art and all that” and they’re not ready or willing to surrender it. They’re certainly not going to arm my students with a cannon or any weapon of the sort.
As an educator, this is where I’m conflicted. How do we prepare our students for a world that needs to be reminded (and even resists) that Black lives matter? How do we empower them at the same time?
Education scholarship is chock-full of articles grappling with this dilemma. Esteemed pedagogical theorist Gloria Ladson-Billings suggests that education should help students feel good about both the culture of their home and the mainstream culture. This presents some challenges. All too often, the values are at direct odds.
Recent scholarship has focused on the impact of police violence on Black youth. Psychologists have found that stories of racist police terror have not only caused Black youth to view officers of the law with suspicion, but have created symptoms similar to PTSD in young men of color. A recent PBS article “When black death goes viral, it can trigger PTSD-like trauma”, suggests that the problem goes far beyond the problem of police killing youth with impunity. The message of Black lives don’t matter is ingrained in American history and culture. Monica Williams is quoted in the article describing the sad reality: “It is a dehumanization of black people, and we don’t see that with any other race. It’s ingrained in us from our history,” she says. “White people used to have picnics at hangings and at lynchings, bringing their children to watch black bodies suffer and die. We are not far removed from that, it’s just being played out through technology now. And it hurts.”
If we teach our youth to see themselves as important young men and women of value, how are we to teach them also to see mainstream society in a favorable light?
It may be time to teach the youth to challenge the mainstream culture. The ELA classroom provides a perfect opportunity for this sort of teaching. Borrowing from Ladson Billings and Delpit, students need to understand the power of language and the language of power. Literature needs to be used to engage students in question asking activities and critical thinking exercises. However, in order for the teacher for social justice to truly empower students, those questions must give rise to some sort of action.
After a few heart-to-heart conversations with the students, we came up with a compromise. Monday-Thursday we read Gatsby. On Friday, I find a short story by a minority author that goes along with the Gatsby chapters. As a final project, students will write letters to the school board in support of, or against, The Great Gatsby based on the study of the novel and the short stories.
Here’s how it’s gone so far. We’re on Chapter four and have decided that while Fitzgerald certainly does a great job of painting Tom Buchanan as a racist buffoon, the novel is weak in demonstrating that racism isn’t just a philosophy — the impact is devastating. In an effort to show “the other side” and also to emphasize that Black authors wrote equally valuable work, we’ve read the “Battle Royal” chapter of The Invisible Man (imagining that Tom very well may have attended such events) and Sonny’s Blues (discussing how Tom’s car accident resulted in getting caught cheating. In Sonny’s Blues, when drunk white men joyride, Sonny’s uncle gets killed — and the white men get away). It’s been a bit of extra work, scrambling for texts to pair with the chapters, but it’s been well worth it.
We still talk about the weaknesses of an Anglo-centric curriculum, but we also discuss that the best way for them to criticize it is to know it well, as well as the alternative. We’ve discussed why certain authors don’t make the cut for high school required reading, and also how they’re whitewashed when they do. We read a book review of The Other Blacklist and talked about how dangerous books and ideas can be.
I’m not sure what the verdict will be once we’re done with Gatsby. They may end up loving it. I’m also a bit nervous about what the response will be from the school board if the students write letters in opposition. I know all too well that very little changes with letters and petitions.
Perhaps that, too, will be a good lesson on power for my students.
I was nervous about the whole project at first, but decided I can’t shy away from harsh criticism of what my students perceive as unfair. When I tell them I’m always on their side, they need to see the action and effort that matches that. Encouraging students to see beauty and power in minority authors will hopefully help them see the beauty and power in one another and themselves. Learning to use the language of power to challenge those in power may be the best writing lesson I can offer. A failed student movement (or a successful one) may be the best motivation to learn about successful student movements of the past and work to create more of their own.
Maybe the best thing I can teach them with Gatsby is the idea is that we’re the people — the multiracial working class. I am, and they are, and you are — And really, we’ve produced all the things that make civilization, we’ve just let the wrong people control it. It’s time we change that. Do you see?
