Readin’, writin’, ’rithmatic and relevance

A 14-year-old taking homework to his mother and incredulously telling her, “Mom, there’s a rape in my book,” could be the start of a salacious controversy, dividing well-meaning people into bickering camps of negativity.

To be sure, the story of “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” showing up as required reading in a freshman English class at Marion High School had the potential to do just that. And with some individuals, the issue at first seemed destined to head down that path.

It led not only to rude exchanges and a real-life confrontation at a local convenience store but also to a reluctance to express concerns for fear of being punished by people in power.

An amazing thing happens, however, when people are willing to respect both themselves and each other enough to freely speak their minds and willingly listen. Compromise can happen. As the late Republican senator and ambassador Howard Baker famously said, people in the other party may be wrong 99 times out of 100. But that one time, they may have a point worth considering.

“Wallflower” — not a particularly celebrated exercise in writing — touches on largely unsavory issues many teens might face. At issue is whether, at age 14, they’re ready to seriously consider those issues or are more like 3-year-olds who hear what they think is a dirty word and revel in repeating it.

Both sides in the debate — those who stress the book’s relevance and those who think it premature to expose intimate challenges to kids who may still be playing with dolls and toy soldiers — can make strong cases for their positions.

In the end, both gave a little but still got what they wanted. “Wallflower” has been replaced by “Lord of the Flies,” an only slightly less graphic but still emotionally and intellectually provocative work that also tends to focus on humanity’s darker side.

If only the state legislature and Congress could see their way to compromise, democracy would not be under the almost unprecedented challenge it faces today. And perhaps we could look not at the salacious aspect of this issue but at a more practical one.

Time was, literature was assigned to teens not because it made them think about issues in their lives but because it exposed them to literary techniques they could learn so they could become effective writers whose ultimate careers could be advanced by their skills in communication.

Rhetoric and grammar are not useless rote learning. They are calisthenics for the mind, teaching how to identify and emphasize the most impactful elements of a message in ways that command the greatest attention and afford the greatest opportunity for persuasion.

Those are skills valuable not just to those who will become writers or scholars but to average people trying to sell a product, make a case for getting a raise, or wooing a potential mate. Our obsession with making young people focus inward on themselves may have some value — especially if done by professionals trained in that area. But the basic skills involved in learning to be effective communicators should not take a back seat to social relevance.

In this age of artificial intelligence, templated designs, and other copycat forms of creativity, if we don’t practice such basic calisthenics as rhetoric and grammar, we lose an important competitive edge and at best become ever weaker copies of generic, pre-packaged, soulless creativity.

America became great by focusing outward and having original ideas, not by incessantly gazing at our navels and relying on imitation as our only form of creativity.

— ERIC MEYER