The Go-Ahead

Suddenly, a gene that had never existed before was everywhere. It hitched a ride on a virus that infected sixty percent of the world’s population. Six to seven percent of those infected were born with a gene which, combined with the one inherited from the virus, caused mutations in the female young. It produced changes in their learning and development and conferred upon them the singular ability to procreate without a partner. The story has been in all of the papers since then. Or, at least, a lurid distortion thereof. My own introduction to the subject came years earlier when I welcomed a new student named Felicity into my second grade class. I stopped the principal outside the closed door in the hall once she was in her seat.

“Rachel, listen, I…”

“I know, Dan. You’re supposed to be capped at twenty-eight and this is student number thirty, but…”

“No. It isn’t that. Look at the size of her. She can barely see over the desk. How old is she?”

“Listen, Dan. You’re the one who’s always telling me that chronological age is a poor determinant of readiness for learning. Here’s your chance to prove it.”

“How old is she?”

“Felicity is four.”

“But I teach second grade. I have students who are eight years old. That’s twice as old as her.”

“Dan, come to my office after school and let me know how her learning compares with the rest of the class. Until then, teach.”

I was pissed. Not so much on my behalf, but because a four-year-old little girl was going to be stuck in an inappropriate learning environment until I made a report to my boss. All I could do was to treat her as humanely as possible until the final bell.

I walked in the classroom to start “The Morning Song,” but it was already in progress. Everyone was in their seat singing along to the video, being led ably by Felicity.

“Good morning, Mr. Dan,” Felicity said when the morning song ended, then she nodded to the class.

“Good morning, Mr. Dan,” they said in unison. It was simultaneously sweet and creepy. 

Well before the last bell rang, I knew Felicity was in the wrong placement. After she gave constructive criticism of my educational pedagogy over lunch, pointing out some nuances which had eluded me for years. She explained that if I really want students to reach, I have to give them the go-ahead. Afterwards, she took over my teaching duties for the remainder of the afternoon and the next day was at university and the next week was learning with the elders of the first nations. There were others, thousands like her, around the world.

These young women put the old men out to pasture. Their voices were not silenced, they simply weren’t amplified. The next harvest was spread evenly. No one spoke loudly against it.