Publication Date—Jan 15, 2014
Once upon a time I am in a classroom. I am a child, old enough to read and write with some degree of sophistication but not yet having reached puberty, and I am wearing the black slacks and blue blazer and red tie that we have to wear because we are pretending to be an elite Catholic school. Blobs of gum do not lurk beneath our desks, however, and graffiti is not scratched on top of them. Cell phones have not been invented yet, and we do not whisper or snicker behind our teachers’ backs. We communicate wordlessly in sign language.
Our instructors don’t mind. We are being trained to hunt creatures with exceptional hearing, and our instructors want us to learn how to communicate covertly and quickly and silently. The teachers stroll among us dressed as priests and nuns, and perhaps some of them are, but they do not use rulers or wooden paddles to enforce discipline. They carry bamboo poles.