Oscar Meyers Part 2: Academia By Lazlo Zalezac Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2005 Chapter 33 Kotyit, with a young man standing beside him, watched the young man approach followed by his two girlfriends. Looking at the trio, there was no way to mistake them for anything other than whites. He hoped the other students wouldn’t be too hard on them, but knew that hope was slim. This was the Native American College, not Paleface College, and the students would be reluctant to embrace whites living on their campus. At least he was wearing blue jeans rather than the red robe. That one bright spot was undermined since the red head was wearing a blue robe. Approaching the main building of the Native American College, Oscar paused and looked around. The architecture of the buildings seemed to be an ad hoc mixture of different styles. There were buildings that looked like they were made of adobe that served as dorms. There were several buildings with what appeared to be long houses attached that served as entrances. These were the buildings in which classes were held. A single modern style building served as administration. Turning to Debbie, he said, “We’re not in Kansas anymore.” Kotyit stepped forward and said, “Welcome to the Native American College.” “Thank you,” Oscar said. Debbie looked around and said, “It is pretty here.” “This is David Bear Claw. He’ll be your guide until you get settled in,” Kotyit said. “Nice to meet you,” Oscar replied looking over at the young man. He guessed the man was a second year student at the college. David Bear Claw just stared at the three whites and shook his head. He was not happy about having them on campus. It was even worse that they were Druids. Like many others, he grouped the Druids with the New Age conmen who were ripping off the Native American culture. He folded his arms and glared at Oscar. “Friendly,” Oscar commented to Debbie. Georgia was angry and the look she gave David Bear Claw was almost enough to flay him alive. “We do not normally have coed dorms, but Oliver said that the three of you would have to room together. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to your room,” Kotyit said ignoring the tension. He gestured to the adobe style building. The trio followed Kotyit to the dorm and dropped their stuff inside their room. Although the outside appeared to be an adobe complex, the rooms inside were just standard dorm rooms. They followed Kotyit to the cafeteria where he handed them three meal cards. “Since we won’t be issuing you regular student IDs, this card will allow you to buy your meals.” “Oh, so I guess I better carry it with me all of the time,” Oscar said. Debbie asked, “How do we use it?” “Just give it to the cashier and they’ll charge your meal against your balance,” Kotyit answered. David Bear Claw, the young man who had been accompanying them, asked, “How do they do it at the Druid College?” “Our meals are free,” Debbie answered looking at the card. She was thinking that it would make a nice memento of her visit to the college. David Bear Claw grunted and said, “Figures. White man school.” Kotyit stopped and looked at the young man with him. In a soft voice, he said, “The Druid College is a sister college with ours. Oscar and Debbie are not the first students from there that we’ve hosted.” “Who was the first?” David Bear Claw asked. “William Redman Carter.” Oscar nodded and said, “William told me about his time here. He really enjoyed it. He mentioned something about putting a rattlesnake in a bed.” Kotyit laughed and said, “Yes. Talks With Animals did put a snake in my bed. Of course, the snake had promised him that he wouldn’t hurt me.” David Bear Claw stared at Oscar and asked, “How do you know Talks With Animals?” “He’s a friend of mine,” Oscar answered. He wandered off to see what the food looked like in the cafeteria. It wasn’t quite the quality of the food at the Druid College, but it was better than the food in the Army. Debbie looked over at David Bear Claw and said, “They are very good friends.” Kotyit looked at Debbie and said, “I’ll take you over to your laboratory. The Druid College was kind enough to donate all of the equipment that you’ll need.” Looking at Kotyit, Georgia said, “I thought that John Carter funded this school.” “He did, but we can always use more equipment as the school grows,” Kotyit answered. The next morning, Oscar was led out to a wooded area along with the rest of the first year students. It was the first day of school and they were to participate in what had become a school tradition. They were told to make their way to a teepee on the far end of the woods. On the way, seniors, who were using standard whiteboard markers as if they were knives, would try to mark them. Even if marked, the students were to continue onto the teepee. The goal was to reach the teepee without getting marked. In practice, the goal was to reach the teepee with as few marks as possible. Four hours later, Oscar strolled into the teepee without a single mark on him. The rest of the students were waiting for him. Without exception, each looked miserable. The students were covered with a patchwork of red, black, blue, orange, green, and yellow. Squatting just inside the door, he asked, “What happened to you?” “We got caught,” one of the young men answered. Flipping one of the markers, Oscar said, “Looks like twenty of them found you.” “It was a bunch,” the young man said shaking his head. He had been walking through the woods and one of the seniors had grabbed him. Before he had known what was happening, they had drawn all kinds of things on him. “Hey, where did you get that marker?” Looking at the marker in his hand, Oscar grinned and said, “It’s a long story. You guys aren’t the only ones who look like they were in a paint factory explosion.” At lunch, thirty very unhappy seniors were all seated around the cafeteria. Each of them was marked with a red line across their throats. The other seniors were teasing them about letting the white man sneak up on them. Although none of them was willing to admit it, they were actually pretty impressed that Oscar had managed to make it through the course unmarked. Carrying his tray, Oscar sat down next to Georgia and said, “You would have had fun out there.” “Kotyit said that women weren’t allowed,” Georgia said with a snarl. Smiling, Oscar said, “That doesn’t mean that we can’t repeat the experience this weekend.” Grinning, Georgia asked, “Should I go over to where all those unhappy people are seated and see if I can’t make arrangements for me to try the course?” “With or without me?” Oscar asked. “I’d like to try it alone,” Georgia answered looking at him as if daring him to say that she couldn’t succeed. “Have at it,” Oscar said with a smile. Watching Georgia walk over to the seniors, Debbie leaned over to Oscar and asked, “What are her chances of doing as well as you did?” “Pretty good,” Oscar said. He knew just how good Georgia was in that kind of situation. She’d give the seniors a run for their money. Georgia returned to the table a few minutes later and said, “It’s all set up. They weren’t exactly willing at first, but changed their minds when I said that I was normally your partner in war games like that.” “That’s it. Ride on the coattails of the master,” Oscar said polishing his finger nails on his shirt. Georgia playfully hit him on the shoulder and said, “I’d rather ride on the face of the pussy slave.” Sticking out his tongue, Oscar said, “That can be arranged.” The next day was spent in his four classes. The first class of the day was representative of his entire day. An instructor sat at the front of the classroom telling stories from different tribes about the creation of the universe. With each story, the instructor would introduce the tribe from which the story originated. The students were seated on the floor around the storyteller listening intently. Confused, Oscar listened to the stories wondering when the lesson was going to start. He had understood that the class was about Native American culture. At the end of an hour and a half, the instructor dismissed the class. Once the other students cleared the room, Oscar asked, “When does the regular class start?” The instructor, a middle aged man by the name of Pale Elk, turned to look at Oscar with an amused expression on his face. The confusion on Oscar’s face reminded him of another student who had been in his class years earlier. He answered, “It started today.” “You just told stories,” Oscar said. “That’s true. It was my first lecture of the class.” “Isn’t this class on Native American culture?” Oscar asked. “Yes, it is,” Pale Elk answered enjoying the obvious confusion on Oscar’s face. “I don’t understand,” Oscar said. “How else is a student to understand our cultures if it isn’t through the stories that tie the people of a tribe together?” “Stories?” Oscar asked. He had expected a lecture to covering where each tribe lived, what they ate, and how their tribe was structured. Instead he had gotten stories about animals that weren’t quite animals. “Yes, stories are what make a culture. How many children are raised listening to stories of Cinderella, Robin Hood, and Snow White and the Seven Dwarves? These are what give people a common vocabulary and starting point for their interactions with others. The stories told by white men are all around us, but what you heard today are our stories,” the man answered. “What was I supposed to get out of the stories you told today?” “I told the stories of many tribes today. Maybe you should have recognized that I not only told you the story of those tribes, but I also told you how those tribes differ,” Pale Elk answered. “Okay,” Oscar said feeling very uncertain about his course of study. He asked, “Is there a book with all of those stories?” “No.” “How am I supposed to study them?” Grinning, Pale Elk answered, “You are supposed to remember them.” Disgusted, Georgia sat down in the cafeteria next to Oscar. There were three marks from the markers on her face and arms. Oscar looked at her and asked, “What happened?” “Two of them ambushed me,” Georgia said. It was very obvious that she wasn’t happy with the outcome. “There are three marks on you,” Oscar said. “I marked myself accidentally,” she answered in disgust at her performance. She had made a stupid blunder that she would never have made in Afghanistan and it had cost her. While Georgia may have been disgusted by her performance, the forty seniors who had participated in the war game were impressed. The two that had marked her had waited by the teepee to catch her just before she entered. She had been casually flipping her marker while walking through what appeared to be a safe area when they had risen from pits in the ground right at her feet. She had been totally surprised. Oscar asked, “How many of them did you get?” “All but the two who marked me,” Georgia answered. This had been much more difficult than paint ball since it required her to get up close to the enemy. She had to use every skill that she had learned in Afghanistan. “You did better than me,” Oscar said. He had gone against a hundred of them, but he had nine teammates. Of course, his teammates had ditched him at the first possible opportunity thinking that he would only get them caught. Pointing to the red line on her right arm, she said, “I did this to myself.” Grinning at her, Oscar bent over and kissed it. Straightening up, he said, “There. I kissed it all better.” David Bear Claw sat down at the table and looked at Georgia. Surprised to see that she had come through the war game in such good shape, he said, “It looks like you did well. I noticed a few of the seniors were marked.” “Thanks. I was stupid right at the end,” Georgia said. She frowned for a minute and then asked, “I was told that there was actually a course on fighting like that. Why do you have the war games?” David Bear Claw was slowly coming to respect the trio of whites. He leaned forward and said, “Our instructors say that many of life’s hardest lessons are easiest learned on the battle field. Patience, attention to detail, and a full awareness of your surroundings are important things to know. It is also important to understand that in any endeavor that some will be casualties. It may be your friend or it may be you.” Georgia glanced at Oscar and said, “That is true. It is just that we didn’t expect that lesson to be taught in college.” David Bear Claw looked down at the table and said, “At one time in our past, that was a fact of life that was learned early in life. Our men trained their entire lives to be braves. Boys sat beside their fathers and learned how to make their first bows and arrows. They hunted rabbits, squirrels, and birds before moving up to bigger game. They sat around campfires at night while listening to stories about feats of bravery in battle. “It is different in modern times. We sit in front of televisions and watch cartoon superheroes as boys. Those superheroes are not real men. Real men can’t fly through the sky or deflect bullets with metal bracelets. “Our hunting is limited to a few days a year. The rest of the time we rummage through a refrigerator. Many of us come here thinking that meat comes wrapped in plastic. Today, our first real chance to learn those lessons is here at the college.” Oscar nodded his head in understanding. In a soft voice, he said, “What you say is true for all modern people. There was a time when boys would work beside their fathers and learn the skills that would hopefully enable them to make their way through life. Men would tell stories that would let the younger generation know how to act. Today, those stories have been replaced by television. The stories aren’t real and don’t teach the right lessons. We are all losing touch with what made us what we are.” David Bear Claw said, “But the stories on the television are those created by and for white men.” “It doesn’t have to be that way,” Oscar said. “If we put our stories on the television, they get stolen and changed by the whites,” David Bear Claw said with more than a little anger in his voice. “You can’t have it both ways. You can’t share your culture and keep it private at the same time,” Oscar said. “That doesn’t stop us from wanting to have it both ways. That is why so many are hostile towards you.” Oscar laughed and said, “You may not know that I’ve fought in real battles. I recognize hostility when I see it. What I’ve seen here is just minor irritation.” Georgia nodded her head in agreement. She looked around the room and said, “There isn’t hate towards whites in here. There’s anger, but not hate.” David Bear Claw had not known that Oscar had fought in a real battle. The offhand comment about hostility roused his curiosity. He decided that he would see what more he could find out about Oscar. He turned his attention to his food and ate wondering when his own anger at having a white man on campus had turned to irritation. Debbie entered the cafeteria and went over to where Georgia and Oscar were seated. Throwing herself into a chair, she said, “I think I hate synthesizing organic dyes.” “What’s the matter?” Holding up her blue colored hands, she said, “I spilled some of the dye I was making. I smurfed myself.” “I hope it isn’t toxic,” Georgia said looking at Debbie’s hands. They were rather gross looking. “It is the same chemical that makes blueberries blue,” Debbie answered. Shaking her head, she stared at her blue hands in disgust. Clearly irritated by her accident, she said, “I have to do it all over again. It took me three days to create that batch and now there isn’t a large enough sample to turn in for a grade.” Holding up her arm and pointing to the red streak down its length, Georgia said, “Welcome to the first meeting of the colored people.” Winking at David Bear Claw, Oscar said, “We might want to get out of here before they consider making us members by beating us black and blue.” Oscar was returning from his class thinking about the material and the way in which it was being taught. Kotyit noticed him walking along and went to join him. The young man looked far too serious to be enjoying himself. On reaching Oscar, Kotyit asked, “What do you think of your classes so far?” “They are okay.” Kotyit had expected something that was a little more positive than that. Curious, he asked, “Okay? Is there something wrong with your classes?” “Not really,” Oscar answered. “It sounds to me like you haven’t really connected with the material.” “It is a different style of instruction,” Oscar said. “Different?” “So far, I keep encountering different teaching styles. At the Druid College, the instructors for the introductory courses are the best in their field. They work to establish a very solid foundation in the basics. The Jewish scholar taught the material through a very formal process in which every line of the Torah was examined for all potential meanings. The Reverend Leroy Jones approached the material in the same manner, but it was much less formal. The Islamic approach had less experienced people teaching the basics while reserving the best people for later in the education process. In Thailand, things were taught through a process of guided self discovery. Now, I’m listening to stories and trying to extract some sort of order out of them all,” Oscar answered. “What have you found to be the best method of instruction?” “I don’t know. I felt more comfortable with how the Druids approached it,” Oscar answered with a shrug. “Yet you learned the material regardless of how it was taught,” Kotyit said. “I guess,” Oscar answered. After a moment of thought, he said, “I forgot to mention the army way of teaching.” “What’s that?” “You do what you are told over and over until it becomes second nature,” Oscar answered. He laughed and said, “In a way, that’s the easiest way to learn.” Kotyit and Oscar walked along side by side for a while. Before they reached the dorm, Kotyit took Oscar’s arm and stopped beside a small flower garden. Turning to Oscar, he asked, “When it comes time for you to teach others, how will you go about it?” “I guess I hadn’t thought about it,” Oscar answered. He wondered if his service would involve teaching. He sighed and said, “I haven’t really had much time to consider things like that.” “Tell me about time.” Oscar looked over at Kotyit wondering what the old man was trying to tell him. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “We use time to order our lives.” “Ah,” Kotyit said. Curious, he asked, “How do your fellow students treat time?” “I’ve wondered why they seem to show up in class early or late with equal ease,” Oscar answered. That had actually been one of the most puzzling things about the classes. It seemed that they didn’t always start on time. A student who showed up late to a Druid class could expect to be asked to leave. Here, it was almost expected that half of the class would show up late. “You are right about using time to order our lives, but don’t confuse that with allowing time to control your life.” Kotyit knelt down beside the garden and smelled one of the flowers. Looking up at Oscar, he said, “When it comes time for you to pass on what you know to others, don’t forget the first way you were taught.” “What’s that?” Oscar asked trying to follow the discussion. “By example,” Kotyit answered. He stood up feeling his age. Once standing he looked down at the flowers planted around the outside of the building. “By example?” Oscar asked. Smiling, Kotyit gestured to the flowers and said, “Sometimes you just might want to stop and smell the flowers. There should always be time for that.”