The Gnome's Tale (Redux)
It is with a sense of the utmost defeat in the face of poetic justice that I write this post. Some months ago, I wrote about that intriguing facet of the Atlantean myth which is The Gnome's Tale. In that post, I made reference to the two chapters in the annals of the Thunderer's lieutenants which were reserved for that august henchman and alter ego of the High Priest of Atlantis.
Now, I am stuck with the latest edition of the annals; indeed, for the sins of my house, my father and I are writing (please do not snigger) TWO CHAPTERS about the Gnome in what may well be his eulogy. My chapter, of course, is on his contribution to the Atlantean education system which sees little Atlanteans educated for 12 years (or more, if they are particularly intransigent) from the age of 6 (or thereabouts). My father will write about their fates thereafter.
How does one outline this particular aspect of the Gnome's career?
I suppose, although the material is all circumstantial, that one ought to begin by establishing his recorded perspective on such things and then trying to figure out what on earth he intended. Fortunately, in the 159th year since the Gambler founded Atlantis (or laid claim to having done so), the Gnome did us all the favour of actually producing a document in which he roundly excoriated the Priesthood of Learning for their uselessness and incompetence. He then laid out a long list of sweeping reforms, in which he restructured the Priesthood and the schools they administered, but pointedly and deliberately left the curriculum to 'specialists' under an 'effective management system'.
He then ruled with a titanium fist to ensure that good numbers were produced. It was like an educational version of his economic policy. If you couldn't count it, you couldn't count it as a success. Under the Gnome, literacy levels rose from an estimated <75% (he personally thought it was more like 30%) to more than 99%. The numbers of teachers rose. All the numbers looked better.
The tongue of the West established itself, rising in usage from <15% in the homes of the Celestials to its current >60%. And a cunning plan to destroy the Middle Kingdom's dialectical (haha) hold on language resulted in two things: the reduction of dialect usage to <1% as a primary tongue (although the Lucky variant is actually used by about 80% of the sons of the Celestials), and the rise (and stunning fall) of the Manchurian candidate's version to a peak of 80% and then down to <40%.
What a legacy! And yet, there are so many problems with the narrative and its significance that I don't quite know where to start and how deeply to dig. The corpses are still prone to rising up and walking around, as the Thunderer opens his mouth up and tells old war stories about education, more and more, as he grows mellow (and garrulous) with age.
Now, I am stuck with the latest edition of the annals; indeed, for the sins of my house, my father and I are writing (please do not snigger) TWO CHAPTERS about the Gnome in what may well be his eulogy. My chapter, of course, is on his contribution to the Atlantean education system which sees little Atlanteans educated for 12 years (or more, if they are particularly intransigent) from the age of 6 (or thereabouts). My father will write about their fates thereafter.
How does one outline this particular aspect of the Gnome's career?
I suppose, although the material is all circumstantial, that one ought to begin by establishing his recorded perspective on such things and then trying to figure out what on earth he intended. Fortunately, in the 159th year since the Gambler founded Atlantis (or laid claim to having done so), the Gnome did us all the favour of actually producing a document in which he roundly excoriated the Priesthood of Learning for their uselessness and incompetence. He then laid out a long list of sweeping reforms, in which he restructured the Priesthood and the schools they administered, but pointedly and deliberately left the curriculum to 'specialists' under an 'effective management system'.
He then ruled with a titanium fist to ensure that good numbers were produced. It was like an educational version of his economic policy. If you couldn't count it, you couldn't count it as a success. Under the Gnome, literacy levels rose from an estimated <75% (he personally thought it was more like 30%) to more than 99%. The numbers of teachers rose. All the numbers looked better.
The tongue of the West established itself, rising in usage from <15% in the homes of the Celestials to its current >60%. And a cunning plan to destroy the Middle Kingdom's dialectical (haha) hold on language resulted in two things: the reduction of dialect usage to <1% as a primary tongue (although the Lucky variant is actually used by about 80% of the sons of the Celestials), and the rise (and stunning fall) of the Manchurian candidate's version to a peak of 80% and then down to <40%.
What a legacy! And yet, there are so many problems with the narrative and its significance that I don't quite know where to start and how deeply to dig. The corpses are still prone to rising up and walking around, as the Thunderer opens his mouth up and tells old war stories about education, more and more, as he grows mellow (and garrulous) with age.
etched with acid at 11:38:00 am
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