- Students walk into a dim classroom.
“Thank you for being here today,” the teacher intones to the first student who arrives.
“Your presence here this morning would have meant a great deal to him,” he remarks somberly to the next student.
“I know this is a tough morning for you; he considered you a great friend,” he assures a third.
As students take their seats, bewildered, they notice the podium is draped in black, fake vines and a rose hanging from the top, flickering tea light candles arranged across the top of the lectern. Behind the podium, a drawing of a long-haired boy next to a soberingly terse epitaph helps the students make sense of this bizarre start to their second-period English class:
This is the dramatic scene that greeted my sophomore students this week the day after I assigned them to read chapter nine of Lord of the Flies, the chapter in which the stranded boys of the novel, driven savage in their isolation from “civilized” society, “do in” ten-year-old Simon in a frenzy of mob violence.