Sophomores at Heller tended to appreciate their second year of PE more than their first. They ran faster, swam longer, and sweated more, but by then it became a familiar routine. Some went as far as to say they enjoyed it. Ms. Stevens only taught freshmen, and so they instead appreciated the wit of Mr. Clements, who made even pushups funny. Frank particularly appreciated Mr. Clements due to his fondness for power-walking, and that day in class, in lieu of running or anything that got the blood pumping, they walked. Quickly, to be fair, around the field, darting in and out of shadows and making pigeons jump when they passed too close, but not so quickly that John and Ernest could not argue. Light philosophical debate—debate which everyone else considered arguing—had become a frequent pastime for them. Ernest was easily incited to invective, every fault around him an underlying symptom of some greater societal ill: the school lunches are tasteless, no wonder why America is malnourished; Mrs. Huang played a FOX News interview with President Underwood, why is she bringing politics into the classroom? John responded to these challenges with as much gravitas as he could muster, never quite sure which of Ernest's comments were soliloquy and which were invitations for discussion.
"What does it mean to be intelligent?" John asked Ernest suddenly. John considered himself a not unintelligent person, but Ernest was clearly more so. It did not matter that people like Frank and Jason did just as well academically, they were simply viewed as less intelligent; Jason had his unfortunate track record of head-patting and outbursts of anger, and Frank's intellect was overshadowed by his eccentric tendencies. John was not quite sure what he brought to the table, but he knew that somewhere in his head lay pearls of wisdom.
"Intelligence is something we are all born with that determines our position in life. Some of us are more fortunate than others because they possess greater, I guess, natural blessings," Ernest responded with certainty.
"What makes you think we are born with it? Why do we have classes if they are not meant to teach us something besides conformity?"
"John, there's a difference here between intelligence and knowledge. I have great knowledge; I am not intelligent. Someone like Frank is intelligent, but he has no knowledge." Ernest did not mean this as a great insult toward Frank, who was well ahead of them and probably would lap them soon enough, but rather as an explanation that could let him sleep at night without the inescapable feeling of having done something wrong. Ernest left this unspoken, but he thought John possessed great intelligence and little knowledge as well.
"So are you defining knowledge as how we use our intelligence?"
"Exactly that. A mind is a terrible thing to waste."
"I'm not quite sure I get what you're saying, Ernest. A toddler who we all may consider precocious for whatever reason, maybe because they learned how to read early, still puts their hand on a hot stove despite them possessing the intellect to know that's what they shouldn't do, that they don't see any adults putting their hands on hot stoves and thus should not do the same. If we are born with a certain level of intelligence that really determines our position in life, most of us would have scars on our hands. Every man is the son of his own works, and the majesty of human creation is proof that we are not governed by our nature."
"That's a terrible example. Some things in life are instinctual: we all know not to play with knives or jump off cliffs or drink bleach without being told. Very few of us don't possess those instincts, and those who don't grow up to be stuntmen."
"We aren't savages, Ernest. We don't stand in drum circles ululating all night simply because our primal instincts drive us to belch and procreate. Our instincts help us act in society according to normal principles beyond the simple idea of 'don't die.' There's some little motor inside us that tells us when not to talk out of turn in a conversation, ensures we're too scared to suddenly take off our pants in the middle of class, and that tells us to settle disputes amiably instead of coming to blows. Those aren't necessarily natural instincts—a toddler feels no shame. But most of anyone, regardless of intelligence, learns to develop these instincts."
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General FictionA misguidedly idealistic high school student founds a club to teach his classmates philosophy; when it becomes a cult, he must change course before the whole school drinks the Kool-Aid. Frank can think of no better way to prove his classmates have n...
