What is the universe? I don’t mean this in a metaphysical, sort of lazy-philosophery way, I mean as a thing, what type of thing (if it can be typed) is it? Is the universe the ultimate expression of divine perfection, existing in a very delicate and precise balance? For we know, for example, that even tiny changes in gravitational fields of celestial object in our solar system would result in calamity for all life on Earth. Or is the universe violent and chaotic with no reason or perfection to it at all? Do we continue to exist because of nothing more than cosmic luck as opposed to any type of God or divine presence? Could both of these things be true at the same time? They seem to directly conflict, but maybe there is truth to both, or neither, or… ah, who the hell knows?
And that, my friends, is the point - we just don’t know. We live like we understand things, but when it comes down to it, the stuff we do not know so vastly outnumbers what do know that it is at the same time disconcerting and a bit embarrassing. Mankind prefers to think of the universe or ordered and logical. There are theologians and philosophers who attempt to progress the Theory of Intelligent Design, which argues, essentially. that the physical world is so complex that it must have been created intentionally by a higher power. There is, of course, no evidence to support this theory, but it does provide some comfort and stability. Humans like to feel important and we like to think that we matter - that our matter, matters. It is far too terrifying to conclude that instead of a perfectly ordered cosmos there is just chance - that the only reason an asteroid hasn’t taken us out yet is because the one that will do it, hasn’t done it yet. That instead of living in a God created Eden, we inhabit a rock floating in nothingness near an inferno which is also floating in nothingness, and that nothingness is infinite, but also expanding. Well… shit.
At times I think I sound like a Nihilist, but really I am not. I’m more of an Existentialist, or a Dadaist, or better still, an Absurdist. Existentialists basically believe that each person is an individual embodied with free will and choice and that through those things a person creates their own reality rather than relying on the divine. Dadaism is usually thought of more of an artistic movement that embraces the chaos of the universe - Dadaist expression is usually satirical and always nonsensical - actually, that is not quite me. An Absurdist on the other hand recognizes the randomness of life and that existence ultimately has no greater meaning. This recognition becomes “absurd” when our particular action(s) fail to match said recognition. An Absurdist seeks to find meaning in a place where he knows there is no meaning or purpose in a place and time when there is no meaning or purpose.
That one - that’s me!
I think that to be a teacher is to embrace the absurd - whether passively, actively, or subconsciously.
In 1942 Albert Camus published his extended philosophical essay, The Myth of Sisyphus. Inspired by Kierkegaard, Schopenhauer, and Nietzsche he embraced elements of the existential and the nihilistic and introduced us to the philosophy of the absurd. Sisyphus is our archetype absurd here. He hates the gods and all they represent, from their power to their immortality to their control of mortals. Sisyphus hates the idea of death and works to escape it. He displays an absolute passion for life and for a brief moment placed Death in chains and liberates himself and mankind. But, Death is released and Sisyphus recaptured. His punishment is, from the perspective of the gods, poetic justice. The gods grant him his immortality only to make him push a bolder up a mountain. When he reaches the summit, the bolder rolls to the bottom and he must push it up the mountain once more - again and again and again, for all eternity. The gods grant him forever but do so through an eternity of hopeless struggle.
With respect to John Baptist de La Salle, it is Sisyphus who should be recognized as the Patron Saint of Teachers. To be a teacher is to embrace a Sisyphean task and to accept absurdism as an absolute truth.
I once saw a thread on the social media app formerly known as Twitter that challenged people to explain their job in once sentence. My response was, I offer knowledge to people who don’t want it and who actively and daily try to make me fail at my job.
Most teachers understand that they hold a great deal of knowledge and wisdom about particular topics. Topics they love, topics about which they are impassioned and inspired, topics, they feel, are important to the world and to the collect consciousness of humanity. They also understand that, for the most part, the people to whom they are charged with delivering this knowledge would like nothing more than to not have this knowledge delivered. The students largely wish to remain in a permanent state of blissful ignorance - for they do not know what they do not know and are very content in that condition.
Think of what being a teacher really is at this point. Teaching something, anything, to people who have no interest in learning it in the hopes that if I teach it in a particular way they may develop an interest in learning it just in time for them to leave my class or school. Absurdism is believing, after decades in the classroom, with overwhelming evidence that most of what we teach is utterly forgotten within weeks, if not days or minutes, that what we are teaching matters. That, in my case, learning the great and tragic stories of the past will be an instructive warning to the present and inform our future. That in revealing humanity’s inhumanity we can become more humane and empathetic. That in having students hear from or read about those who have been victims of hate they may develop of greater sense of care for others, only to then learn that the moment they left the classroom they begin spreading hurtful rumors about other students, having made no connections whatsoever with the story and their own actions.
I recently took students to an Auschwitz exhibition in Boston. I have been to the actual camp several times and this exhibition, using artifacts from several Nazi camps, did very well in recreating the feel of that place. I do believe that most of my students took away something meaningful from the experience, but that said, here is a conversation that happened the day after the visit:
Me: What were your impressions of the exhibition?
Student A: The bus we went on was really nice.
(I ignore the comment)
Student B: It was really cold inside that building, like, why was it so cold?
Me: Do you think that’s what I was looking for with that question? What did you think or feel when hearing the stories or seeing those artifacts? Like the shoe of the little boy outside the gas chamber.
Student B: I’m just saying it was cold, right, it was really cold!
Me: Forget it.
Student B: (attempts to respond again)
Me: No thanks. I tried twice. I take this stuff very seriously and I think it’s really important. If you don’t want to talk about it, let’s not talk about it.
This wasn’t the majority of students, but it was a bit disheartening to have this be a response. And here is Sisyphus in action. I pushed that bolder up the mountain, reached the summit, asked the question, and the bolder tumbled back down. When I got home that night I began researching how the make Holocaust Studies a graduation pathway or even perhaps a CTE, as well as where to get scholarship funding to bring students on a Holocaust Studies Tour of Europe.
So I am still here, Sisyphus, pushing that bolder up the mountain. An Absurdist, searching for meaning and purpose where none exists, walking in the hopelessness of student apathy with hope that what I’m doing matters to people who believe it doesn’t matter.