The Survivor - Poem

   A late vacation trip trapped me
   in a barren hotel room one rainy night.

   And for the first time
   I discovered the country
   had gone berserk about
   a TV series called The Survivor.

   If I had needed visible proof
   of our sad failures in education
   there it was. On screen. For hours.

   Money mad meaningless meanness.

   Only a silly game. But also an epiphany.
   Of what we have come to consider
   market proof of applauded excellence
   in winning leadership. Or a sub-species thereof.

   The same attitude afflicts the schools
   and colleges as well as the dominance
   of the vast video wasteland.

   Headships should go to the pushy.
   The strong. The ruthless. The cunning.

   The survivors of a contrived melee.

   The painful advance of humanity
   is to be measured only
   by point scores. Not joy.
   Not peace. Not beauty.
   Not knowledge. Not new ideas.

   Authority most craves winningness
   in those appointed to lead.

   Not devotion. Nor social benefit.
   Not art. Nor science.

   But getting through the obstacle course.
   On top. Without being knocked down.
   Too soon.

   Of all our institutions
   education demands
   a pervasive sense
   of universal betterment.
   Not merely of sole survival.

Raleigh, North Carolina August 29, 2000

COPYRIGHT 2000 Agency for Instructional Technology
COPYRIGHT 2001 Gale Group