Out from Under the Bus

     The other day as I entered Belial's Bookstore for some late Christmas shopping, I noticed a couple of old ladies at a table, doing gift wraps for donations to something called The San Miguel School.  As I'd never heard of the school, I glanced over at their posters and saw pictures of about fifty or so boys, in uniform.  It turns out that back in the mid 1990's, a La Sallean Brother named Father Goyette grew weary of the chaos of South Providence, and decided to try a few things that the public schools were ill-equipped or simply unwilling to try.  He'd bring together several dozen boys, between grades 5 and 8, whom everybody else had given up on -- who could not read, or who were uncontrollable in class, or who were about to follow in the traces of a lawless elder sibling.  He'd assign them adult mentors, teach them discipline and the proper pride upon which respect for others is based, work them for long hours during the school day, and provide them plenty of athletic activity both in school and out.  So the first San Miguel School was born, apparently in a drafty old building with hardly a decent set of desks for the boys to sit at.  Now, about 12 years later, there are quite a few other San Miguels across the country, built on the same model: small, tight-knit communities that focus on both academic achievement and the personal virtues that define the "San Miguel Man."  (You can visit their website at www.sanmiguelprov.org.)

     I've already determined that I'm going to pay them a visit.  I wish I could say that these are Christian schools; nothing in their literature suggests that that is the case, but maybe they have determined that children whose parents are incarcerated for drug offenses are not quite ready for so much Good News.  I don't know; I'll have to ask.  I also don't know whether they have been attempting to rediscover some old and effective ways of teaching boys, especially boys in groups.  It may be the sort of thing they find on their own, by happenstance (for example, it will be interesting to see if memorization has made a modest comeback there, or intellectual competition, or schematic grammar, or military history).

     Still, you have to start somewhere, and merely liking the boys and paying them attention, pulling for them, enjoying the fact that they are boys without also condescending to them -- doing all that is as good a place to start as any.  When you're in the middle of a ruined city, you may not have a blueprint for rebuilding, but at least you can start shoveling away the rubble and clearing the area for somebody who does have a blueprint.  And as for the boys themselves, who otherwise have been thrown under the bus, it may mean the difference between a decent life and a dreary round of street and slum and prison.

     But it is a ruined city, no doubt about that.  Today I was out Christmas shopping again, and stumbled upon a 1951 copy of Open Road, "the magazine for America's youth," as it called itself.  It really was a magazine for older boys.  There were a few more photos in it than an adult magazine of the day would have, though only a few; and the language was not as sophisticated as that of Life or The Saturday Evening Post, though it was close.  I'd say, for subtlety of expression and complexity of thought, it would rank about with Time or Newsweek now, only a great deal more delightful to read.  It featured a long article about a lad who had spent several years as the batboy for the Saint Louis Cardinals; another long article about a fossil collecting expedition by some boys and a paleontologist; a short piece about two teenage brothers who had invented a Geiger counter and were selling it at twenty dollars apiece to uranium prospectors; a regular feature on the minutiae of stamp collecting -- these at least were the articles I had time to look at.  Nothing on politics, nothing on sex; lots about machines and science and travel.  Oh, and a charming advertisement for 22-gauge Winchester rifles, lightweight and perfect for the boy who wants to learn how to shoot.  Paleontology, sports, physics, philately, shooting -- the boys had real lives, real adventures, real interests.

     Don't tell me the city is not in ruins.  That such an advertisement was even conceivable tells you all you need to know about the difference between that age and ours.

Comments

[Joe Long]

"But for my children, I would have them keep
their distance from the thickening center;
corruption
Never has been compulsory, when the cities lie at
the monster's feet there are left the
mountains."

-Robinson Jeffers, "Shine,
Perishing Republic"

The city may be in ruins, but God bless the folks helping the cultural refugees...and Dr. Esolen, down at the Wal-Mart here in South Carolina they're selling a fine reproduction of the good old Henry repeater in .22 (the 1873 Winchester's immediate predecessor), and some of my peers think I'm being a bit prissy by waiting for my oldest son's age to hit double digits before I buy him one. Presumably it's being advertised somewhere -

In any case - you're right about the rot, but you're also right in the "thickening center", culturally. If you could visit our museum's monthly military history "Homeschool Fridays", you could do a "Touchstone for Boys" article on the youngsters there, who have a great deal of 1951 and a bit of 1851 in their lives. In fact "Touchstone Magazine for Boys" would be a fine idea - call it "Slingshotstone".

[Wolf N. Paul]

I would seriously hope that it is an intentionally Christian school; my experience with LaSallean schools (here in Austria) is mixed however.

[GL]

Ah, guns for boys. Last year, I gave my old childhood 20-gauge shotgun to my nephew. He is 10 and is going to use cottonmouth water moccasins which nest near my brother-in-laws riverside cabin -- a species which I would happily see extinct and not a few of which I shot with the 20-gauge when I was a boy). I am saving back my father's .22 for my own son, who at 5 is too young to use it just yet. (I shot a few snakes with it as well.) As to age, I am with you Joe, I plan on waiting until my son is at least 10 before giving him his grandfather's rifle.

As for the school, Tony, thanks for the uplifting news a few days before Christmas.

[GL]

Sorry for the bad, cut and paste job. That third sentence was suppose to read:

He is 10 and is going to use it to squirrel hunt (and hopefully kill cottonmouth water moccasins which nest near my brother-in-laws riverside cabin -- a species which I would happily see extinct and not a few of which I shot with the 20-gauge when I was a boy).

[Tim]

Dr. Esolen:

In your book shopping have you noticed a book called "The Dangerous Book for Boys" published by Harper-Collins? It's being marketed in all the big stores. It's really excellent and a throwback to the days of Open Road - historical battle stories, rugby and cricket, making small dangerous devices etc. A note to entrepreneurial readers: if anyone is interested in starting a magazine like "Open Road" for boys, I think there's a real hunger for this and it could do very well. Blessed Christmas to everyone, especially those at Touchstone!

[dilys]

I frankly would prefer a new Open Road as a Touchstone enterprise, to the fund-raising for glossy-gritty Salvo. Dreams and archetypes and adventures in younger hearts, IMO, brings more ROI than (however accurate and Biblical) rhetorical fodder to fuel college-age culture-war debate.

The Boy Mechanic may be in the public domain now, too.

This is a most valuable leverage niche nobody's fighting for yet.