Authors vs. Ideas (repost)

In November of 2017, Tyler Seguin’s name started popping up in hockey news headlines. That in and of itself is not so unusual; he’s a marquee player for the Dallas Stars and a damned pretty man. These headlines, however, were not about his on-ice skill or make-your-gate-swing-the-other-way smile…

Headline: Tyler Seguin Makes Profoundly Stupid Comment...

They weren’t all quite that blunt….

You get the idea. So what had he said?

An ESPN reporter was doing a piece on the different languages spoken in NHL locker rooms. Most players managed something relatively diplomatic, others were insightful and well-spoken. Not so much my man Tyler:

Guys always talk in different languages. Sometimes you just put your foot down. We’re in North America, we’re not going to have a team of cliques.

Maybe not his best moment. He sounds so… American. (He’s not – Seguin is from Ontario. The one in Canada. Where millions of folks speak French.)

He wasn’t the only player to give an arguably “tone deaf” response, but his comments drew the biggest backlash. Then someone noticed that only a few months before, USA Today and the Boston Globe had both done pieces on the Boston Bruins, each citing the approach of team captain Zdeno Chara about such things:

Bruins captain Zdeno Chara has a strict rule that every player, no matter where they’re from, needs to speak English in the locker room and on the ice.

Nine languages are spoken in the Bruins locker room: English, French, German, Slovak, Czech, Serbian, Russian, Finnish, and Swedish. And that doesn’t even count the Italian that defenseman Zdeno Chara – who can speak six languages – is learning for fun through Rosetta Stone… To make the communication go smoothly, to make sure no one is left out, there is only one universal language in the locker room. That’s English.

Chara recalled Anton Volchenkov, a teammate with Ottawa who now plays for the Devils. Volchenkov came to the NHL from Moscow. He was a nice guy, Chara said, willing to do whatever was needed. But he couldn’t speak English, and he struggled to fit in… ‘It really comes down to how much you want it. If you really want to stay, if you really want to learn, then you do whatever it takes – take lessons or hire a tutor or whatever that might be.’

And yet… no outrage. No criticisms. If anything, both pieces sang the praises of the Bruins’ locker room dynamics and of Chara in particular.

Why? What was the difference?

There are a few obvious things. While the gist of each comment was the same, Chara’s presentation was far more diplomatic. The bit about speaking English was part of a larger context about building team dynamics and the importance of mutual respect. Seguin’s comments came across as petty – maybe even snippy. They were part of a series of quotes about potential language problems among teammates.

Zooming out a bit, Chara is from Slovakia and speaks seven languages. He’d been in the NHL for twenty years at the time of the interview, over half of it with the Bruins, and he’s one of the most respected players in the game, on and off the ice. He still has the slightest bit of an accent, and while his most defining visual feature is that he’s about nine-and-a-half feet tall, you also can’t help but notice that he’s, you know… ethnic.

Seguin is tall, but in a normal-hockey-player kinda way. Between those smirking eyes and slightly-too-trendy beard, he looks, smiles, and struts like the bad boy for whom Rory Gilmore and her ilk will forever dump the earnest, dedicated lad who’d have otherwise loved them forever. Seguin had been in the league for about seven years at that point. He’d started with the Bruins (he and Chara won a Stanley Cup together) but was traded to Dallas amidst rumors of a party-boy lifestyle and lack of perceived commitment to the team, despite his elite skills. He’s also about as Caucasian as it’s possible to be without actually donning a MAGA cap and sidearm.

The point is, sources matter. What we know about a speaker, writer, or creator, shapes how we understand what they say, write, or create. Point of view – ours and our understanding of theirs – is everything.

In order to stabilize the world population, we must eliminate 350,000 people per day. It is a horrible thing to say, but it is just as bad not to say it.

Something from a younger, less-ambitious Thanos? Or maybe Al Gore during his failed Presidential bid, highlighting how out-of-touch he could be with that depressing environmental fixation of his? What if I told you it was actually St. Augustine, the revered Christian apologist, writing over a thousand years ago? Or Nelson Mandela? Or Barry Goldwater? Would it matter if it were Pope Francis or Hitler?

If you say the source doesn’t matter to how we read or react to something – that it’s secondary to a work’s quality or an idea’s merits, you’re lying. Or delusional. Maybe both. And you know I’m right because I’m the most reliable, entertaining, and profound source you’re reading at the moment.

It was Jacques Cousteau. If you’re over the age of forty, you just thought to yourself, “Oh, yeah – that explains it.” If under, it was probably closer to, “Who?”

Words build bridges into unexplored regions.

That one was Hitler, although it’s arguably taken out of context. It doesn’t make the statement false, but it sure changes the likelihood you’re going to use in on your next motivational poster, doesn’t it? (Then again, some very fine people on both sides, amiright?)

This sort of thing matters when we’re reading primary documents in history, and sometimes even when we’re using secondary sources. Author always matters, whether to better understand intent or more clearly analyze meaning. But it also matters when someone is trying to persuade us of something – maybe even more so.

The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.

This Thomas Jefferson classic is a favorite of militia members and gun nuts. It was on Timothy McVeigh’s t-shirt when he blew up the Murrah Building in Oklahoma City in 1995. It carries a punch it would lack if the author were, say, William Wallace, or even Thomas Paine. Jefferson was a Founding Father. He wrote the Declaration of Independence. He was a President, for gosh golly’s sake!

But understanding Jefferson means accepting his love of rhetorical flair over objective accuracy: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, and are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness…” is a marvelous statement of ideals, but hardly suitable as a practical foundation for statutory law. And in that same Declaration, Jefferson justifies revolution itself – “That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government…” It’s a powerful sentiment, but are you OK with your child’s high school history teacher promoting it as a practical solution to the Trump administration or a seemingly corrupt, inept Congress?

Ideas and words matter, all by themselves – absolutely. Books, music, art, fast food – I don’t always need to know the motivations and political ideologies behind every song I crank up or every chicken sandwich I grab from drive-thru. But let’s be honest with ourselves about the extent to which author and context shape our understanding or opinions when we’re not feeling particularly analytical or cautious. Our favorite person in the world might occasionally be an idiot, while someone of whom we’re not personally a fan may from time to time speak great wisdom.

Whether or not English should be spoken in the locker room is not an exclusive function of the degree to which Tyler Seguin sounded like a tool or Zdeno Chara came across as a great guy. It’s an issue which no doubt involves a range of factors, interwoven and no doubt varying widely from situation to situation. In other words, it’s not a simple ‘yes/no’ issue.

I respectfully suggest we tread lightly when judging education policy, teaching style, grading policies, discipline guidelines, and pretty much everything else in our weird little world. There are many likeable, well-spoken people whose ideas aren’t right for your kids – maybe not for anyone’s kids. Knowing a bit about who they are and what they want can go a long way towards helping us see past the shiny, tingly stuff they bring.

Beyond that, there are some iffy people in our world saying and doing things which aren’t always horrible. I, for one, keep stumbling across recent legal opinions by Justice Kavanaugh with which I substantially agree – despite cringing a bit at the internal dissonance which results. And just last month, a student sent me a Ben Shapiro video in which he said TWO ENTIRE THINGS which weren’t horrifying or insane.

I know, right?

Sometimes our favorites are wrong, and sometimes the most annoying people have questions or insights we’d do well to consider – even if they present them in the most tone deaf or irritating ways. Besides, there may be hope for them.

Speaking of which, Dallas has been good for Tyler. He’s a dedicated team player, plugged in with the community, active with charity work, and has a last-guy-off-the-ice work ethic. I don’t know his innermost being, but he seems like a decent enough fellow, despite his comments on language barriers.

Besides, he’s still SO pretty.

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Can I Get A Copy Of That?

Question: Every state has its own “law of the land” governing how things work within that state. What is this document called?

Answer: Magna Carta

Hang on, what?

Oh well – there are always a few curve balls like that when grading student work. No idea WHAT that kid was thinking when they came up with that one. On to the next paper…

Answer: Magna Carta

And the next…

Answer: Manga Carta

Well, at least that one’s a LITTLE different. Wonder if I should be reading it from right to left?

I flip through a dozen or so more… Magna Carta, Magna Cart, Magnum Carter, Magna – oh, good! Here’s one with that answer left blank and another which (almost) correctly replied that the highest source of state law is a “contution.” Full credit for that one, kid.

Copying is nearly inevitable in high school. There are ways to prevent it, but they’re not particularly practical. The most Draconian requires all work to be done in class with no talking and no technology. Even if students were in class every day and consistently finished at the same time, that would quickly get boring. Besides, I don’t actually mind my students talking a bit while they work, and I encourage them to use technology (appropriately).

It’s also possible to rework assignments so that the same material is covered in several different ways. They’re all “learning” the same stuff, but without the exact same examples in front of them. The problem with this solution is obvious – most of us can barely keep up with our workload when we’re only making one version of each assignment. Plus, I like genuine collaboration.

I can already hear my colleagues from the upscale suburbs eagerly explaining how I need to change my entire way of thinking about “school work.” Go ahead – get it off your chest.

Yes, there are all sorts of ways to design assignments so that the product consists of far more than filled-in-blanks or copied definitions. Ideally, I’d avoid questions from the text or anything that smells vaguely of “worksheet” completely – if that were realistic. At the moment, my friends, we may have to compromise – I’ll agree that your creative projects and Socratic discussions are way cooler and more pedagogically sound than my vocab crossword puzzles, and you thank the teacher gods that you work in a setting which hasn’t driven you to try things like vocab crossword puzzles.

Some of us teach in settings where project-based learning, creative group activities, or self-directed anything may be possible, but hardly flows naturally. When presented with low-performing students of dubious emotional stability and limited social skills, there are times when “old school” approaches become far more attractive than I would have suspected a few short years ago.

So, I explain things with visuals as support (i.e., “lecturing”). I read the material out loud while they follow along. And many of our assignments strive for basic content retention – nothing grander.

I’ll give you a moment to either pity or judge me before I continue.

My kids aren’t “stupid” – they simply don’t come from worlds which prepare them for “let’s break into groups and role-play some of the non-military issues sparked by the Civil War.” On the other hand, most aren’t particularly hungry for content knowledge. Those who care about their grades are primarily concerned with “getting it done” rather than self-directed learning journeys in which the teacher is merely a helpful “guide on the side.”

I don’t mean to sound bitter. I’m not. Well… not much. Most days.

I rarely get asked depth questions about anything we’re covering. At best, I get protests thinly disguised as inquiries – “What are we supposed to do? What am I supposed to write? Is this good enough? Can I finish this at home?”

That last one is code for, “Can I just not do this and you leave me alone?” In reality, most interactions as I walk around the room are driven by their hope that if they act interested for a few minutes, I’ll move on and bother someone else.

Still, some of them genuinely hope to pass – which brings us back around to copying.

As with so many other forms of cheating, I used to wish they wouldn’t do it. Now I just wish they’d do it better.

If you’re going to cut and paste from the internet, at least take out hyperlinks and phrases like “that’s why this website was created.” It’s also best to avoid verbiage you’d never actually use yourself, and may not even understand.

Prompt: What led to the formation of the Populist Party in the late 19th century?

Answer: A vibrant industrial economy catapulted the nation to a world leader in mining and manufacturing; the agricultural sector overcame organizational and technological challenges to increase productivity; and the innovations in financial, accounting, and marketing methods laid the foundation for a powerful economy that would dominate the globe in the 20th century. The emergence of this economy, however, did not come without challenges. Workers in both the industrial and agricultural sectors offered an alternative path for the American economy in the form of labor strikes and populist reforms; their attempts to disrupt the growing concentration of wealth and power played out in both the polls and the factory floor.

When I get this from Kevin, the same kid who got credit for “contution” a few questions ago, I can’t help but suspect he’s done a little “independent research” in order to get his answer.

The fun part comes when I find the exact text he’s used and point it out to him. Over half the time, students will insist that they didn’t copy from the internet. The similarity is purely coincidental – or perhaps the internet copied from them. Some grow quite agitated and defensive, which is either amusing or just weird, depending on how much sleep you had the night before.

Just to complicate matters, answers used on ‘cheat’ sites are often copied from the same source, or perhaps from one another. That means that while I may have located the plagiarized paragraph on StudyHelp.com, the student remains confident in their denial because they know darn well it came from CheaterCheater.com and so I clearly can’t prove anything!

Other times, someone has clearly done the original assignment (which everyone else has copied) using the assigned materials. I can tell they’ve pulled words and phrases from the text, it’s just that they apparently had no idea (or interest in) what they meant.

Question: According to Andrew Jackson, what were FIVE reasons Indian Removal would be good for (white) Americans?

1) put an end to dangerous collision

2) whites strengthen the frontier

3) financial advantage

4) mississippi and western alabama of indians

5) place a dense and civilized in place of the savages

Please understand that I’m not belittling the student who wrote these answers, bizarre though they may be. At least whoever it was actually did the work (well, sort of) – unlike the majority of their classmates that day. I might even be willing to dig back through the text and try to discern where they came up with some of these fragmented thoughts and phrases in hopes of giving them partial credit. That’s not what makes me crazy.

What makes me crazy is that I’m currently looking at 17 copies of the exact same contorted responses, word for word. That means that at least 16 times after someone first scrawled this unique take on Indian Removal, other students WHO ARE ALL PERFECTLY SMART ENOUGH TO RECOGNIZE WHETHER OR NOT SOMETHING MAKES ANY SENSE copied these responses precisely without letting the words penetrate far enough into their brains to send up a few red flags.

I’m not proud when I tell you that I’ve several times suggested to entire classrooms of students that they focus on copying from someone with a higher grade than themselves because I’m less likely to notice when more answers are correct. Sure, it was partly sarcastic – but only partly.

And therein lies the inherent flaw with the whole copying strategy. Students who actually read the material and make an effort to do well are far less likely to snap that pic when finished and begin the eternal circle of sharing. That means that most of the time, students unwilling to do their own work are not only copying, they’re copying work that sucks to begin with.

Still, I’m certain there are a few in the mix who are at least capable of giving decent answers for me to read over and over and over again. Perhaps if I suggested they divvy up the assignments like the AP kids did at my old school – you know, “divide and conquer”?

I know, I know… they should all do their own work, or at least collaborate in some meaningful way rather than partake in meaningless transcription. But I’m told it’s important we give our kids input and a sense of “ownership” over their own learning, so I’m trying to be open to a little compromise here. I even tried seeking solutions from the students themselves – an informal writing assignment to get their input and ideas on how to reduce copying.

I’ve been reading through their submissions. At least one of them (I’m not sure who) had some pretty good ideas, despite their distinctive spelling and grammar errors. The good news is, most of the class must agree with their suggestions – given how many of them turned in the exact same list.

The Year Cecil Rhodes Kicked My *** (Part Two)

NOTE: If you haven’t read Part One of this mess, you should probably start there.

Cecil Rhodes sitting comfortably on his porchThere were essentially four major players in Africa in the latter half of the nineteenth century, at least in terms of our broad, offensively simplistic overview.

The first was the Africans themselves. Now, contrary to popular western belief, Africa was (and is) an entire continent, not a country. It contained (and contains) numerous cultures and distinct nations, each with their own values and priorities. Nevertheless, we’re going to risk treating the entire native population as a single entity in terms of the era’s global dynamics. This is not intended to reduce or disparage those thus generalized; it’s a necessary simplification for purposes of a particular narrative. Like the Amerindian population of North America upon the arrival of European colonists or the governments of South America during the Age of Imperialism, we’re temporarily telling the story through the eyes of those who saw little reason to distinguish between those in their way. King Lobengula was the rule of the Matabele people (also called the Ndebele) during the Rhodes years. While he didn’t represent all Africans, he’s an appropriate personification of the southernmost quarter of the continent at this time.

The second group in our little story was the Boers, sometimes referred to as the Afrikaners. These stubborn homesteaders had begun settling the Cape of Good Hope in the mid-seventeenth century, arriving primarily from the Netherlands (the “Dutch”) but including a number of French Huguenots (Protestants who fled France to avoid persecution), some disaffected Germans, and a smattering of other Europeans. The Boers were primarily farmers, and many either brought slaves with them to assist in this endeavor or enslaved the locals as opportunities allowed. When the British showed up in 1795 and claimed that part of Africa for themselves, the Boer migrated northeast (the “Great Trek”), eventually founding two distinct Boer Republics – Transvaal and the Orange Free State. (If you look at a modern map of Africa, these covered roughly the northeastern half of what is now South Africa.) The Boer farmed, fought with indigenous locals, and resented the British for a century or so until defeated in the Second Boer War (1899-1902), after which British domination in the area was essentially uncontested until the mid-twentieth century and the establishment of South Africa as an independent republic. Paul Kruger was president of the Transvaal Republic for nearly two decades and often serves as the face of the Boers in historical narrative.

The third player in our drama was, of course, the British Empire, which reached its zenith around 1913 (just before World War I). While far from the only imperialistic nation of its age, it was arguably the most effective. By the early twentieth century, Great Britain controlled something like a quarter of the globe, leading someone to note that “the sun never sets on the British empire” – it was literally always daytime somewhere under its control. Imperialism was about more than global one-upmanship (although that was certainly a biggie.) It was about natural resources and cultural domination and national security and elbow room and somewhere to send undesirables and markets and the white man’s burden. During the infamous “carving up” of Africa (1884-1885) by various European powers, the U.S., and a handful of others who met in Berlin, Great Britain claimed not only the Cape of Good Hope it had already effectively taken over from the Boers, but the Transvaal and Orange Free State regions and a few other choice bits in the area as well.

The fourth and final figure is, of course Cecil Rhodes.

1880 – 1885

Cecil Rhodes began his political career by winning a seat as a parliamentary representative in the Cape Colony’s legislature, the House of Assembly. While local concerns and circumstances drove the specifics, Rhodes was from the beginning interested in northern expansion. Trying to distinguish between his personal ambitions, his belief in British cultural supremacy, and his desire to exploit the natural resources of the African continent is pointless, since to Rhodes these were inextricable elements of the same worldview.

A territory then known as Basutoland, nestled just south of the Orange Free State and today the enclave of Lesotho, was pushing back against British rule. The inhabitants were primarily native Africans who had only a few generations before began incorporating horses and guns into their self-defense strategies. The British had already asserted legislative control over the region against its will and had more recently initiated a policy of complete disarmament of the local population in the name of “preserving the peace.” Needless to say, this didn’t go well.

Rhodes managed to advocate on behalf of the native African population of Basutoland while still promoting long-term British interests. He established good relationships with a number of Boer leaders to the north and encouraged Great Britain to establish a protectorate over Bechuanaland, a territory overlapping parts of the northernmost section of modern South Africa and most of Botswana.

The infamous Berlin Conference of 1884 which formally unleashed the “Scramble for Africa” was a few years away, but other European powers were already competing for influence in the uncharted interior regions of Africa. The government of the Cape Colony (still largely overseen by the British) lacked real influence that far north and Rhodes often grew frustrated at his inability to convey Africa’s potential importance to the imperial government back home. He thus used whatever tools he had at his disposal to continue nudging British influence forward. It made little difference to Rhodes whether those in his way were accommodated or assimilated as long as British influence could expand, telegraph lines could be laid, and reliable railroads could be built. By all accounts, he genuinely believed this was what was best not only for his countrymen, but for the world and its inhabitants in general.

Just past Basutoland were Mashonaland and Matabeleland, both part of what would later be named Rhodesia (one of two African countries eventually named after Rhodes) and today make up roughly the northwestern half of Zimbabwe. In addition to forming a critical link in his envisioned unification of Africa under the guidance of enlightened British rule, both territories contained potential mineral wealth – a handy way to pay for all this expansion and improvement. Unlike with Basutoland, the primary obstacles Rhodes faced came from the Boers rather than the original inhabitants. Rhodes managed to get himself appointed to a committee established to sort out boundary disputes with the Boers and once again used political maneuvering as his primary method of conquest. It seems unlikely, however, that any of those involved could have completely ignored the might of the British empire hovering nearby.

It was during this period that Rhodes first met Paul Kruger, president of the Transvaal. Like Rhodes, Kruger had visions of an “improved” Africa. Unlike Rhodes, he had the backing of a people who, while not exactly native, had been on the continent for centuries at that point. The Boer were well-established and largely accepted as part of the landscape, often referring to themselves simply as Afrikaners – literally, “Africans.” Kruger attempted to extend the protection of the Boer to several small republics within the disputed territories, forcing the British-backed government of the Cape Colony to commit troops to ensuring this didn’t happen.

The two men finally met in February 1885, at a conference intended to resolve the ongoing conflicts between the Boer and the British. Rhodes and Kruger were too similar to reach any sort of personal peace, but their respective governments managed to carve out a few compromises. Rhodes, who’d intended for the Cape Colony to eventually annex the Bechuanaland, resigned in protest when it became clear this wasn’t in the cards.

1886 – 1890

The diamond mines of Kimberley were still going strong in 1886 when gold was discovered in the area as well. Rhodes by this point had a complete monopoly over the mineral wealth being produced. His average annual income was estimated to be around £500,000, roughly $60 million per year in modern American dollars. Not surprisingly, this made Rhodes one of the richest men on earth, giving him extensive leverage and substantial resources for his ongoing push to absorb as much of Africa as possible into the British Empire.

Kimberley wasn’t the only area in which gold was being unearthed. The Witwatersrand Gold Rush in the Transvaal Republic occurred around the same time, leading to the establishment of Johannesburg and continuing the massive transformations of southern Africa which began in Kimberley. The “mineral revolution” which proved so profitable to Rhodes and company was further fueled by events in Witwatersrand and eventually led to both the industrialization of what became South Africa and the system of apartheid which dominated the region for most of the twentieth century.

Rhodes sat out the rush into Transvaal, instead biding his time in hopes of even greater profits further north. In addition to the ongoing inconvenience of Paul Kruger and the Boer supporting him, Rhodes was now confronted with King Lobengula of Matabele. Lobengula was savvy enough to realize he couldn’t take on the concentrated might of the British Empire and relied instead on diplomatic maneuvering and stubborn diplomacy.

The king had previously rejected the efforts of Kruger to secure mining concessions in Matabeleland, believing that once he let in even a few white men, it was unlikely he’d ever be able to get rid of them. Now, faced with two competing outsiders, Lobengula chose what seemed like the lesser of the two evils and signed a treaty with Kruger’s Transvaal Republic in 1887.

Rhodes had up to this point been unable to persuade the British government to support expanded colonization of South Africa. Now, however, he had a new card to play. The Boer were expanding their influence into Matabeleland and Mashonaland (much like their cousins in the United States, the British often misunderstood the dynamics of political leadership among the native populations and assumed whatever “chief” they dealt with spoke for everyone with a comparable skin tone anywhere in the region) and now that the “Scramble for Africa” was fully underway, a half-dozen other European powers were quickly sizing up their opportunities on the continent as well. If Great Britain wasn’t willing to amp up its imperialism based solely on South Africa’s potential merits, perhaps they’d do so in order to prevent others from doing the same.

In the meantime, Rhodes secured the support of John Moffet, a missionary and the son of Robert and Mary Moffet, whose missionary work in Africa had secured them the trust and friendship of King Lobengula. (One of John’s sisters was Mary Livingstone, wife of Dr. David Livingstone, the missionary and explorer famously “lost” for six years until his encounter with reporter Henry Stanley who famously greeted him with “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?”) Lobengula trusted Moffet and signed over what he understood to be rights only for the white men to do some digging. Instead, as is so often the case when white men and treaties are involved, the small print opened the door for Rhodes and the British to pretty much come in and do as they pleased anywhere in the kingdom.

When Moffet realized how he’d been used, he turned against Rhodes, but at that point it no longer mattered. In 1888, Rhodes and his partner Charles Rudd had officially incorporated De Beers Mining Company as De Beers Consolidated Mines, Ltd. Rhodes and Rudd effectively controlled all diamond mining and production across the continent and in the spirit of the Robber Barons across the ocean in the United States began absorbing all elements of the industry – suppliers, distribution, marketing, and the like. A year later, the British government granted Rhodes a charter for the new British South Africa Company (BSAC) and allowed him to “develop” the area as he saw fit.

It’s telling that Rhodes managed to secure almost total authority over the region, including police powers, infrastructure, banking, and of course mining, despite substantial opposition within Parliament. He was one of those characters who simply seemed to always find a way. In this case, his strategy was one familiar to any good imperialist. What he couldn’t secure in the name of expansion or economic gain, he claimed in the cause of “protecting” the local populations from others interested in the same things. The motherland could find little reason to oppose the expansion of British influence, culture, and wealth, all funded by private interests at no cost to taxpayers. Any excesses were on the heads of the BSAC, while the benefits applied to all.

As Rhodes debated the best way to secure Matabeleland and Mashonaland, his worst instincts were on full display. He considered it unlikely the Ndebele (the inhabitants of those lands) would allow him or the British Empire to simply take over without a fight, but it was simply unacceptable to allow a few thousand “savages” to thwart the rightful expansion of white settlers and their superior way of life. He began making plans with several mercenaries on his payroll to raise a white militia which would support longtime local enemies of Lobengula in a presumably spontaneous, home-grown revolution against Lobengula. In classic western fashion, Rhodes’ forces would simply be supporting noble rebels against oppression, historic injustices, or whatever other justifications they might conjure – it didn’t really matter.

If they ended up ridding themselves of an inconvenient local obstacle in the process and taking control of his former kingdom in the name of security and protection of the little people remaining, well… so be it. Such was the white man’s burden.

Perhaps Logenbula could read the writing on the wall, or perhaps he made a strategic decision that cooperating with the British was once again his least horrible option. In any case, the entire scheme became unnecessary when Logenbula opened his doors willingly to Rhodes and BSAC development.

If Rhodes’ only concerns were financial, this should have been sufficient. Instead, he was determined to push the issue until the region was fully and truly transformed according to his own lofty visions. In 1890, Rhodes sent a “Pioneer Column” of 200 miners and nearly 500 armed militia (to “protect” them) into Mashonaland. If Lobengula’s forces resisted, Rhodes would finally have the war he’d been working for and an excuse to wipe out the Ndebele for good. If not, he knew it was safe to simply keep sending in whoever he wished, previous treaties or agreements be damned.

The Pioneer Column met no resistance and soon raised the British flag over their new settlement in Salisbury, officially claiming it for the British. When mining in the area proved less profitable than they’d hoped, Rhodes encouraged them to establish their own farms. If their intentions weren’t clear before, they certainly were now. The British weren’t merely enemies of the native Africans; they disdained them. Why fight someone when you can simply waltz in and take over without a fight?

The Year Cecil Rhodes Kicked My *** (Part One)

Introduction: If you’ve ever written, painted, composed, recorded, or produced pretty much anything in any medium, you know that sometimes you feel the magic happening and sometimes… well, sometimes you keep sawing the lady in half no matter how much she screams and begs you to stop.

Metaphorically, that is.

I’ve been trying to write a brief bio of Cecil Rhodes off and on for most of 2022. Some of the delays have come as a result of normal, boring stuff – trying to keep up with school, wrapping up some unrelated writing projects, letting myself enjoy stupid fun stuff far more often than I have in recent decades, etc. Some of it comes from my own ignorance. I’ve had to digest way more than I expected about related African and European history just to make sense of the parts directly related to Rhodes. And some of it, if I’m being honest, has been my inability to narrow down his story to a narrative detailed enough to be useful but edited enough to serve its primary purpose – boiling down complex historical ideas to digestible lengths people might actually read and enjoy.

So, I’ve resorted to doing what I sometimes do in these situations. I’m writing it all and posting it here as I go, knowing that it’s too bulky, too unfocused, and too unpolished. Only when I’m finished with all eleventeen installments will I go back and begin chopping away at the results in hopes of making them manageable and perhaps even (Lord willing) engaging. Pretty or not, it’s the only way I can push through some topics and eventually hone them into the pithy brilliance that is “Have To” History. (Right now, at this stage, it’s more like “Hurling” History.)

Turn away if you must. Offer constructive commentary if you dare. Either way, I simply must get through this. Thank you in advance for your understanding and support.

And now, here’s the long, unedited version of stuff you might not even want to know about Cecil Rhodes, but probably should – Part One.

Introduction

political cartoon of Cecil Rhodes straddling AfricaCecil Rhodes was… complicated. It in no way excuses the wrongs for which he was responsible for us to recognize and appreciate the laudable elements of his story. If anything, it reminds us that in the right circumstances, most of us are quite capable of being both swell and abhorrent – sometimes within a very short time frame. While history is certainly replete with similar examples, Rhodes represents as well as anyone the futility of attempting to categorize our forebears into “good guys” and “bad guys.”

As Marvel comics and the Bible figured out long ago, our heroes often have some unpleasant features. Thomas Jefferson was a slave owner and carried on a sexual relationship for years with his slave Sally Hemings. Martin Luther King, Jr., plagiarized his way through grad school and was having extra-marital affairs right up until his assassination. Franklin D. Roosevelt approved the internment of Japanese Americans and turned away Jews at the border during the Holocaust while carrying on his own sexual liaisons. And Sherlock Holmes was a cocaine addict, although he managed to keep his pants on – just in case we needed irrefutable proof he was fictional.

On the other hand, the nastiest villains may retain smatterings of graciousness, talent, or good intentions. Genghis Khan slaughtered tens of thousands of people and built an empire on terror, but he also instituted religious freedom, eliminated torture, and set up a pretty effective mail delivery system. Joseph Stalin modernized Russian agriculture and improved health care and education for the small percentage of citizens who survived his reign. Even Tucker Carlson has, um… I mean…

Stalin and Khan had some good points, is what I’m saying.

Whether in history or pop culture, flawed heroes tend to be far more inspirational and complicated villains far more illuminating. Few of us can aspire to be the next Jesus or Superman. Perhaps, however, we can strive to emphasize the better angels of our nature à la William B. Travis or Severus Snape.

Then again, by most modern standards, Cecil Rhodes was more Magneto than Batman – a complex villain rather than a flawed hero. He is at the very least a problematic figure, no matter how much grace we choose to employ. Whatever his stated intentions or proclaimed ideologies, Cecil was in many ways a very naughty man who used and abused those he deemed lesser than himself – which was most people. The fact that this was not so unusual in his era makes it no less odious.

Still, there’s that “complex and thus interesting” part to consider. Thankfully, we don’t necessarily need to weigh his eternal soul or fully unpack his complex motivations to deal with the symbol he became in western culture and world history. In many ways, that’s more important than the “real” person underneath.

The Son’ll Come Out, Tomorrow…

Cecil Rhodes was born in 1853 in Hertfordshire, just north of London. He was by all accounts a rather “sickly” child – a generic term covering anything from asthma to allergies to lactose intolerance (but stopping short of something major enough to secure accurate diagnosis, like scarlet fever). His father was a clergyman in the Church of England, making the family what we’d today think of as “middle class.” His older brothers attended what were known as “public schools,” the nineteenth century British equivalent of upscale private schooling. Cecil, however, was sent to the local “grammar school,” an early version of what Americans today would think of as a decent, local public high school – humble, but still set above any “charity schools” in the area.

When he was sixteen years old, Cecil fell victim to “consumption” – most likely tuberculosis or something similar. This was a fairly severe condition in the nineteenth century and not everyone recovered. As we’ve recently been reminded, serious ailments which prove difficult to control tend to spark socio-political reactions on top of the personal suffering they cause. When people feel frightened or uncertain, they tend to embrace explanations which offer them some sort of control or detachment from danger and suffering, reality be damned. Folks in nineteenth century England were no exception.

Like so many nasty things, tuberculosis was (and is) caused by bacteria attacking various organs inside the human body, most particularly the lungs. All that coughing and gagging and spitting up blood helped spread the ailment to fellow humans, making it highly contagious – particularly in crowded households, cities, or anywhere else people live and work together. Biologically, the disease itself was an equal opportunity infector. Rich folks were just as susceptible as the poor, other factors being equal.

But of course, other factors weren’t equal – and therein crept that socio-political dynamic history teaches us to expect. One of the primary benefits of wealth was having a little elbow room, thus reducing the chances of infection to begin with. Your surroundings tended to be cleaner and you were more likely to spend time outdoors, further restricting the spread of yucky things. Illness, on the other hand, correlated with poverty in the sense that poor folks were more likely to live in crowded, unsanitary conditions. Poverty, in turn, often correlated with the sorts of lifestyles upper classes derided as immoral and in constant violation of proper social norms.

It’s not always easy to distinguish between difficult circumstances and poor personal choices, then or now.

It was thus natural – if unfortunate – that many people perceived a strong correlation between poverty (and the careless, often “immoral” life choices which accompanied it) and tuberculosis. In other words, the disease took on an ethical component. As is so often the case throughout history, sufferers were thought to be at least partially responsible for their own conditions. Since those living “better” lives, with better educations, better morals, and better resources, were less likely to contract tuberculosis, then maybe those who did fall ill (or die) were kinda asking for it. Add in a little “just world fallacy” and you have a pretty stubborn, if mistaken, paradigm.

In any case, “consumption” meant Rhodes was unable to attend the same sorts of schools as his brothers. When he was 16, he was sent to South Africa in hopes the climate would be better for his health. It was much warmer there, and Cecil could spend more time outside. He began working on a small cotton plantation with one of his older brothers and his health did, in fact, began to improve. It also just so happened that something else was going on in Africa at this time – something shinier and more appealing than picking or refining cotton.

Africa had diamonds. Lots of them. Now it simply needed someone with a little vision to make the most of the sparkly beasts.

All That Glitters Is Sold

Only a few years before Rhodes arrived in South Africa, diamonds had been discovered on the De Beers farm in nearby Kimberley. This sparked a diamond rush much like the gold and silver rushes of early American history. It didn’t take long before Cecil was splitting his time and energy between cotton and diamond mining. Each time he uncovered some sparkle, he used the profits to purchase the rights to more and more land and expand his mining operations. He partnered with a fellow Brit named Charles Rudd and they began building quite a fortune for themselves.

In 1873, Rhodes left Rudd in charge and began using his newfound wealth to pay for the sort of elite education he felt he’d been denied. For nearly a decade, he split his time between his studies in England and the diamond mines of Africa. The “Kimberly Hole,” as their primary operation became known, was one of the largest holes of any sort ever dug, and the wealth just kept pouring out of its depths. In 1880, Rhodes and Rudd formed De Beers Mining Company. Over the next decade they absorbed each of their major competitors, one at a time. De Beers soon became (and remains) one of the biggest names in diamonds worldwide – arguably THE biggest.

In 1886, gold was discovered on De Beers property as well. You know, because it was about time they caught a lucky break. Rhodes was one of the richest men in the world before he turned 35.

It’s worth noting that diamond mining was dirty, dangerous business. Workers were regularly injured or killed on site and severe illness was pretty much a given for any who lived long enough. Poor working conditions, crowded quarters, and the dangers of mining itself made pneumonia and tuberculosis common ailments, with scurvy and syphilis not far behind.

These were considered perfectly acceptable dangers, as long as you weren’t the one facing them. That’s what lesser men – especially those native to the area – were for.

Money Is Politics Is Power Is… Messy

By all accounts, money for money’s sake was never Rhodes’ primary goal. He was convinced beyond doubt that the British were a superior race with a superior culture, and that he owed it to the world to expand Great Britain’s influence over as much of the globe as possible. In his mind, this would not just be good for England – he’d be doing the rest of the world a massive favor as well.

He was thus quick to enter the fray of local politics in southern Africa. For nearly two decades he was rarely idle, throwing himself with equal enthusiasm into business pursuits, territorial conflicts, and political struggles. The details can get a bit tedious for anyone not committed to a detailed history of southern Africa in the late nineteenth century, so we’re going to simplify things a bit in hopes of better understanding and remembering the bigger picture. Rhodes’ primary legacy, after all, is a largely symbolic one; the images and emotions he left behind are arguably far more important than geographical or statistical accuracy.

NEXT: The Long, Unedited Version of Stuff You Might Not Even Want to Know about Cecil Rhodes, but Probably Should – Part Two

Messy

I don’t like for things to be messy.

That said, almost everything in my life is messy. In fact, if I’m being honest, it seems like the more control I have over something, the messier it is.

This website is messy. I’m proud of it in many ways, but there’s no denying it’s a bit of a mess.

It’s not a design problem or anything – it’s me. I don’t post consistently in terms of either timing or content. Sometimes there are several new additions a week, while other times it can take months. I write about teaching for a bit, then get distracted with court cases that interest me, or politics, or historical figures, or books I like, or music I find motivational. I create new sections to share lesson plans or classroom strategies, then leave them ambitiously incomplete. At one point I even started a separate site – a Blue Cereal dot NET – in hopes of better organizing my ramblings.

It didn’t take.

My social media history is a mess. I was on Facebook years ago, then quit because I kept letting myself get drawn into the ugliness. After a time, I came back determined to keep things strictly “on brand,” as it were. Then 2016 happened and I was overwhelmed by the number of friends and acquaintances from “real life” who turned out to be science-denying, fear-and-hate mongering, white supremacists. Once again, I began despising who I was when I was on Facebook as well as resenting far too many others in my virtual circle. I was angry and discouraged all the time (but for some reason kept coming back).

It later turned out that was, in fact, a primary goal of the platform itself. Still, that’s no excuse. So I bailed.

My Twitter account is hit and miss. I value many of the people I follow there and enjoy my interactions. I nevertheless vanish for weeks at a time, then pop back up randomly and wonder why everyone doesn’t fawn appropriately in response. Now that the whole Elon Musk dumpster fire is fully ablaze, I may bail on Twitter altogether. {Update: I did.} I’ve recently joined Mastodon and I love it and the folks I’ve already met there – wildly and wonderfully. And yet… there are still those people I really like and who I only connect with on the bird app.

So… it’s messy.

My reading habits are messy. I have three or four different books partially read and I cycle between them as mood or opportunity dictates. I buy stuff I know I want to read but then never seem to be in the mood for. Other times, I find myself returning repeatedly to series I’ve already read over and over. I think I like the comfort of the familiarity, but I also want all these new things there’s no room for. So… it’s messy.

I don’t even want to discuss my “lists” on a dozen different streaming services. There’s the stuff I’m actually watching, then there are the endless shows I’ve bookmarked because I think I want to watch them (but clearly I’m never going to). Never before in the history of humanity has so much been so available so easily – and so much of it of such high artistic and academic quality! If I ever catch up with the 13 hours of pro wrestling grabbed by my DVR each week, I’ll get right on that.

Stop judging me. My tastes are eclectic – which is a fancy word for “messy.”

My house feels messy. Realistically, it’s not. We don’t have kids at home and we have plenty of room. “Messy” in this case is quite relative. But no matter how often we clear off the dining room table, I always seem to awake the next day to find a half-dozen random items scattered across it – most of which belong to me. No matter how thoroughly we clean and organize the office, I quickly end up with books on the floor and papers piled on my desk. This might be forgivable if I were an eccentric old college professor with several advanced degrees or a best-selling author focused on cranking out my next movie adaptation, but I’m just a guy who teaches high school, blogs a bit, and has a few self-published books which you should totally buy for all those special someones on your gift list because they make you seem so thoughtful while suggesting you find them both erudite and worthy of a little extra time and attention in your gift selections – all for about $15 a pop even after shipping.

Seriously, I’ll wait while you click the link. This post isn’t going anywhere.

My classroom is messy. I’d love to say it’s a productive, creative messy indicative of all the learning going on, but it’s really more a matter of students who don’t put stuff back and my efforts to keep everything I need within reach, whether it fits there or not. My desk is too big, which means stuff ends up piled up even worse than at home and nothing ever quite looks caught up. My lessons usually end up messy as well, no matter how well I think I’m planning them or how pure my intentions. I make careless mistakes, or schedules change, and so many students are absent every day anyway that we can never get a “flow” going. There’s rarely a day that feels like we’re building on what we’ve already done or which leads smoothly into the plan for tomorrow.

I was assigned a “pre-observation questionnaire” recently (in preparation for, as the title suggests, a formal observation). It was four pages long. In addition to listing state standards and providing a detailed explanation of how what I was doing that day supported each one, the questionnaire wanted to know how I’d been leading up to this specific skill-set and this particular knowledge, what qualitative and quantitative data I’d used to determine we were ready to move on to this point, how I’d be differentiating during and after the lesson, what sorts of formative and summative assessments I was utilizing, and of course, how the data I was supposedly collecting would drive future instruction.

Somehow, “I hope most of them finish the vocab crossword puzzle” didn’t seem likely to secure me that “highly qualified” ranking I was hoping for.

I’m getting too old and disgruntled to put on much of a show or sling golden manure the way I sometimes used to. I tried to respond to at least half of the questions with sincerity but without pretending anything I was doing was THAT sophisticated. My students are wonderful, valuable people, but doing right by them has less to do with differentiation and more to do with noticing that Ivan’s oddly quiet today or helping Monique realize the importance of reading the directions at the top of the page without being patronizing about it.

With all due respect to Marzano and Danielson, what we’re doing here isn’t that complicated. The areas in which I most need to improve have little to do with curriculum maps or backward design. I’d be more than willing to talk about growth mindset, social-emotional learning, or metacognition, but somehow the vocabulary behind all the useful stuff has become stigmatized through misappropriation or outright abuse, and in any case those things never show up on the evaluative rubrics. Also, I really would be happy if more of them would at least attempt the #@*& crossword puzzle.

You can see why no one’s going to be playing me in the inspirational movie version of my class anytime soon.

Objectively, my classes aren’t actually that disjointed, and many of the very real challenges aren’t in my direct control. The environment in which I operate isn’t particularly predictable and most of my kids have far more immediate concerns than understanding the Progressive Era. Still, I should probably be doing a better job of being all big-picture pedagogical. It probably doesn’t have to look and feel quite this messy.

Maybe none of it does.

I can do a better job putting stuff back where it goes, or at least not always choosing the dining room table. I can commit more time to just sitting and reading without distraction, knowing I usually enjoy it once I begin. And at some point, I really will seriously revamp the website – possibly from scratch.

As far as the teaching goes, though, I’m still working on that. It’s not a shortage of pedagogy or a lack of support – I’m surrounded by some amazing educators, all things considered. It’s not that my kids don’t deserve the best education possible – if I believed otherwise, I shouldn’t be here.

I don’t know about you, but at the moment there’s a grand total of “zero” people lined up desperately wanting my job. I suspect that’s true for yours as well. I’m all for getting better, and learning and growing, but in these messy times it’s easy to feel like we’re not doing enough, or that we’re not doing it right, or that someone else could be doing this better.

I’m not sure that’s true, for me or for you.

I think maybe it’s just always going to be kinda messy, trying to figure out what’s best for them and what has the best chance of helping them learn whatever seems most important that day. I don’t ever want to make excuses for carelessness or lack of focus, but maybe sometimes it’s OK to simply embrace the chaos of it all and do the best we can with it.

Even if it gets kinda messy.