"Now, class, can you tell me when Columbus sailed the ocean blue?"

"The year 1492," the class responded in unison.

"See, Martin? This is a very advanced class especially for first year high school students. From what your mother was saying about the books you were reading, there may be a rather large adjustment for you. But if you want to challenge yourself by remaining here, that will be fine." Two students, muttering in the front row, discussed the futility of reading books when there were wonderful outlines to buy and very good outlines available online. "Yes, Sue and Jenny, it is much more time effective to read the guides instead of the books. We will all have to be patient while Martin begins to perform at the proper level of the class. Now, let's continue, what caused the Civil War?"

"Slavery," was the unified response.

"Good job! Moving on…"

"Wait!" interrupted Martin. "In the textbooks my mother taught me from, we looked at lots of reasons for the Civil War. Things like state's rights and industrialization and taxes!"

"Now, Martin," responded the teacher calmly. "I don't know what your mother has been teaching you out in those woods all these years, but you are very lucky to have moved out of your cabin and back into the modern world, because you have some very farfetched ideas. The North wanted to abolish slavery, while the South loved the slavery system they were thriving on. So the South waged war on the North. I don't understand why anyone would make it anything more complicated than that. Maybe for today you would be better off just observing the class, rather than interrupting with unfounded outbursts." The class snickered while Martin blushed furiously, slumping down in his chair to pretend he wasn't there.

The next day, the class was discussing the section of Othello they were assigned to read about. On the way to his desk, Martin mentioned to the teacher, "I didn't get an Othello book form you last night, but my mom still has one from the cabin, so if you don't have enough, I'm all set. But do we always read an act a night? It seemed like a really long section."

With a condescending glance, the teacher responded, "Reading the actual book is a futile waste of time. We mentioned this to you yesterday. In this society, we don't have ample time to sit in a cabin and read to the birds. Take a copy of this guide. It directs attention to the essential elements of the story while eliminating time spent on details designed to entertain a simpleton."

"But doesn't that also eliminate the author's voice, the beauty of the story, and the rich enjoyment of reading?"

"Martin, if you're not ready to understand the concept, then please just sit down. You're disturbing everyone's learning." Amid the hushed whispers of the class, Martin's teacher began the lesson.

As the students filtered out of the school and headed home, Martin hurried down the sidewalk to a pair that lived nearby. "Hey!" he said, hoping to foster at least one friendship.

"What to do you want?" the girl replied.

"Well," Martin began, "I was wondering what you guys watch after school."

"What we watch?" asked the boy.

"Well, yeah. At my old house all I could watch was what my mom had taped when she lived here. But she told me all about all the programs, movies, and even some cool commercials. I was just wondering what you guys liked. I haven't hooked up our television yet. Mom said I should wait while I got settled. But anyway, what do you watch?"

While Martin looked at them expectantly, the girl said "We don't watch TV here. Television is the lowest form of entertainment, enjoyed by fools and idiots. Here, we strive for the highest levels of intelligence, and to vacantly stare at a television would not provide us with any intellectual benefits." Martin simply stood in place while the pair walked off. He gathered his thoughts and only continued walking when they boy and girl could no longer be seen.

Martin's first art class was a similar culture shock. He was used to painting freely on a canvas, but did not find the same encouragement he had gotten from his mother. "Martin, what are you doing, and why are you drawing on the back of your paper?" demanded his art teacher.

Martin looked at the rather large man, and knew from this teacher's expression that he had committed another offense. "Well, sir, I looked for a sheet that didn't already have something on it, but I couldn't find any. I hope I haven't wrecked someone's project, sir."

"Martin, that is your project. In order to shape our minds as the geniuses that have come before us, we replicate the greatest artistic masterpieces of all time. That "something" on the proper side of your paper is your guide to coming as close as we can get to the greatness of Keith Haring¹ and his work. From his blueprint for success, we color with his schemes and create a great piece of art." Martin took this speech in, sitting silently throughout the rest of the class. Everyone was amazed at his lack of resistance this time.

The same day, back in English class, Martin encountered another conflict. In talking about the section of the guide on Othello the class had been assigned, Martin found that he was inherently different from this society, expressed his frustrations. "What is WRONG with you people?" he shouted. "Why don't you read the book? How can you be satisfied with only knowing the facts? Why don't you look deeper than that?"

"The guide says that it has all of the true meanings of the book," the student next to Martin said. "It says, and I quote the guide, here, that…"

"Stop it!" Martin said. "Just stop! Don't quote the guide. Quote the real book. That's what has the real meaning. Even better, don't quote at all. Come up with your own ideas."

The only reaction one of his classmates could muster was to say "But if we don't read the guide and quote it, then no one will know if we are correct. Confusion would take over because of the glut of ideas floating around with no way of telling which were true. Our guides allow us to learn many more books in one year than the school used to teach in a complete high school career. We know more now than we ever did."

"But you just don't get it." Martin said softly.

"No, Martin, you just don't get it," his teacher told him. This time, the class laughed without restraint. Martin let their words of "stupid," "ignorant," and "thick-headed" fall on his ears without creating any sort of response. He picked up his guide and left the classroom, walked down the hall with the guide-quoting papers displayed on the walls, all decorated with a red "A+." In the only paper Martin had had time to complete, he had tried to show his teacher that he was intelligent, and could come up with an innovative look on the book. It was marked with a "D-" and a "See me after class."

Back in the classroom, the taunts grew louder, with students telling each other "That outburst was the straw that broke the camel's back." "I really couldn't take much more of it." "Do you think we were too harsh?" "What goes around comes around." "He's only human, and everybody makes mistakes." "God gave him lemons, so he should make lemonade." "Do you think he'll come back?" "I just don't think he could cut it here. After all, this is a very advanced class."