As we read Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, the role adults play in Stephen Dedalus's life fascinates me as we see his perception of them change as he approaches his own "coming of age." In the first chapter, he idolizes adults completely, only certain of his own actions when legitimized by an adult's approval. At one point, we see his struggle for certainty unfold as he considers whether or not to tell the authorities that his peer, Wells, pushed him into the ditch. He remembers that his father told him "never to peach on a fellow," and so he doesn't and feels confident that he has done the right thing.
The narrative encouraged me to explore my own memory in search of how my perspective of adults has developed over time. The whole "never peach on a fellow" scenario strikes me as somewhat strange considering that in my own childhood, children were often only too eager to tell on each other for the smallest things. Yet the reasons were the same. We were seeking an adult's authority where we were uncertain. I can remember the constant need to differentiate right from wrong as a child, and the reassurance of having an adult extinguish the confusion by asserting what was good or bad.
Later on in chapter one, we see that Dedalus's perspective is shaken when the prefect of studies scolds him for not doing his work with the rest of the class. In this moment, we see Dedalus silently sure that he is being wronged, for the doctor had advised him not to write with his glasses broken. We see that Dedalus is growing in his own sense of morality as he is able to be certain that the prefect is not in the right. Of course, he is still relying on the doctor's words for backing, but it is a step up from the immediate compliance to the words of adults that we see in the beginning with his interactions between him and his father.
I can identify with this jolting disorientation when faced with the infallibility of adults. When I was in first grade, I had a bizarrely optimistic teacher who I was inclined to gain the approval of from the beginning due to an upbringing in which I always looked up to adults. Yet as the days rolled by, her irritating antics slipped out one by one. If a student complained about something she would grit her teeth and force a frighteningly wide grin, crying, "Smile and say you love first grade!" If she was ever in a mood that was anything less than a hundred percent chipper she would remind us that the the trick to not being sad was to force yourself to laugh until you felt happy. She wanted everyone to be happy all the time, and I was the pensive, sober youth that clearly irked her. She would always single me out and reprimand me before the classroom for small things such as writing messily or daydreaming. At first, I was certain I was being a very bad student, although it puzzled me because I had never been perceived this way by teachers before. Yet there came a day when I finally realized that she was, well, a little insane. I had come back from recess a bit late and she punished me by purchasing Baskin Robbins ice cream for the entire class. The entire class received a little paper cup of chocolate ice cream, except for me. Now, that was just cruel. And I realized that a woman who would exclude me from the class's ice cream consumption was, in my first-grade vocabulary, "bad."
So is realizing that one adult authority is wrong "coming of age?" No. But, it's definitely something that can trigger the start of the process of self discovery. It's symbolic of a moment when we are relying on ourselves as moral compasses, and not simply the words of others.
What a great story. And in its way, denying one child ice cream while the rest of the class indulges is every bit as cruel and psychologically damaging as pandying a kid in front of the class! You're right, none of these moments in itself is decisive, but they represent an important chipping away at the childlike conception of the world--we see the need to think for ourselves, to view authorities critically (which doesn't mean reflexively opposing them but analyzing the rightness of their proclamations for ourselves). Stephen does need the doctor's "backup," but here he's pitting (quite cleverly) one adult authority against another. And what frustrates him to tears about the whole thing is that no one is *listening* to him when he gives his explanation. It isn't simply that he's punished--it's that Dolan completely blows him off, and denounces him telling the truth as a "scheme." It's this misinterpretation that really hurts--the "injustice" has to do with a particular interpretation being placed on Stephen unfairly.
ReplyDeleteGreat first post, Izzy! However, I do disagree on one point you made. You said that you find it unusual for Stephen's father to give Stephen the advice of "never peach on a fellow," because kids want to complain to adults about each other over just the slightest injustice. Looking back on my own childhood memories, I remember that telling authority about something could outcast you, marking you as "the tattletale" for at least the rest of recess (which can seem like forever to a small child with no one to play with). I see how it seems strange to you, considering Stephen's strong desire to always distinguish wrong from right. On the other hand, I also understand why Stephen's father may have said to never peach on a fellow, as he may have observed what I did or been in the unfortunate position of being classified as the tattletale. Nonetheless, Stephen's decision to not tell on Wells was for the best, as that would have just resulted in more harassment by the fellows.
ReplyDeleteIt just flashed in my mind as I was rereading this post, and Divya's comment, that in fact I have given my own son Simon's very advice (though I didn't use the word "peach"). He was telling me how some kid in his class (2d grade at the time) was screwing around when they were supposed to be working, and he told the teacher on him. I think he expected me to be proud--he did the "right thing"--but in fact (not even thinking of Joyce) I said he probably should have minded his own business, let the teacher handle it. My words were something like, "You don't want to be *that* kid. Trust me." I did stress that if a kid was messing with *him* directly, he should say something. But I strongly encouraged him not to take on the role of Citizen Cop in the classroom.
ReplyDeleteSomeday he's gonna write a novel in which my advice comes back to haunt him!