Nothing Important Happened Today
Growing older is depressing. One has to face the fact that one’s relevance isn’t what it once was or, even more depressing, that one was never really that relevant, that it was all no more than a fantasy of one’s own making.
There is no doubt that the X Files had been hugely relevant - a whole different world ago. Even though a good story transcends its time and place and touches on what it means to be human, it only becomes ever harder to tell the story in a way that continues to reverberate in hearts and minds. The title of Season 9s two-part opener may well have been ‘Nothing Important Happens this Season’.
Special Agent Dana Scully must surely be questioning her relevance throughout most of this season. Gillian Anderson brought to life one of the most influential and iconic TV characters ever only to find herself, this season, reduced to little more than a co-star in her own TV show. In truth, Dana Scully was a story that had been told and should have been allowed to disappear along with Mulder and William. The reality of TV, I suppose, does things to stories that makes little sense outside the demand of the bottom-line.
Scully’s fate yet reflects a certain reality. Having spent eight years at the heart of the X Files, there just was no real role left for her, so that she became a reduced figure, lingering in the background, offering the insight of her experience, so that others got to run with the ball. Hasn’t it happened to all of us who happen to be over a certain age?
As a person, Scully is probably not entirely unhappy with her situation – well, if the father of her miracle baby hadn’t disappeared and there weren’t all kinds of nefarious shenanigans involving her baby. As far as being on the side-lines of the X Files and having time with her child – the child she was never supposed to be able to have – she must have felt a certain degree of content.
Scully, like any of us, must just refocus, adjust and find a way to make her life, whatever road she happens to be travelling down, make sense – to herself, if no one else.
We are under constant surveillance these days. Whether it be cameras in the street – or our phones – or various forms of authority, there always seems to be someone watching over our actions. Judging, assessing, measuring. Try, at your peril, to live up to the expectations of these eyes. You will fail! There are just too many watchers; it is impossible to satisfy everyone of them.
Though I’d been teaching for eight years, I became a NQT (Newly Qualified Teacher) in my early forties. If I’d thought I’d experienced scrutiny while in seminary, it was nothing to what I now had to face. I’ve always had mixed feelings about the scrutiny a teacher must endure. In one sense, it emphasizes the importance of the role. Those who play with people’s savings are not, I think, subjected to the same level of oversight – how would they be able to lose fortunes and throw the whole world into turmoil if they were?
On the other hand, who the hell needs that amount of shoulder being looked over?
The thing about being a teacher, though, especially an English Teacher, if you’ll allow my bias, is that we get to contribute on a daily basis to the well-being of the future.
One can, of course, get caught up in the bureaucracy of teaching – and there is a Hellish amount – or one can wake up each day in the sure knowledge that, by the time you return to bed, some young person is going to have a thought, a realisation or simply do something they have never thought of or done before. It is not for me, fortunately, to judge the quality of teaching outside my own classroom. Inside my classroom, it is my responsibility to make students scratch their heads, admit their incomprehension and watch their eyes light up when they finally – and who cares how long it takes? – grasp a concept or accomplish a skill they never thought they’d be able to.
My point here is that relevance is, like so much of being human, a simple case of perspective. It is not my role in life to change the world. There are plenty others who undertake that burden. My role is what it is and, insofar as I do my best to fulfill it, I retain my relevance – even if it stretches no further than the four walls of my classroom.
There is no doubt that the X Files had been hugely relevant - a whole different world ago. Even though a good story transcends its time and place and touches on what it means to be human, it only becomes ever harder to tell the story in a way that continues to reverberate in hearts and minds. The title of Season 9s two-part opener may well have been ‘Nothing Important Happens this Season’.
Special Agent Dana Scully must surely be questioning her relevance throughout most of this season. Gillian Anderson brought to life one of the most influential and iconic TV characters ever only to find herself, this season, reduced to little more than a co-star in her own TV show. In truth, Dana Scully was a story that had been told and should have been allowed to disappear along with Mulder and William. The reality of TV, I suppose, does things to stories that makes little sense outside the demand of the bottom-line.
Scully’s fate yet reflects a certain reality. Having spent eight years at the heart of the X Files, there just was no real role left for her, so that she became a reduced figure, lingering in the background, offering the insight of her experience, so that others got to run with the ball. Hasn’t it happened to all of us who happen to be over a certain age?
As a person, Scully is probably not entirely unhappy with her situation – well, if the father of her miracle baby hadn’t disappeared and there weren’t all kinds of nefarious shenanigans involving her baby. As far as being on the side-lines of the X Files and having time with her child – the child she was never supposed to be able to have – she must have felt a certain degree of content.
Scully, like any of us, must just refocus, adjust and find a way to make her life, whatever road she happens to be travelling down, make sense – to herself, if no one else.
We are under constant surveillance these days. Whether it be cameras in the street – or our phones – or various forms of authority, there always seems to be someone watching over our actions. Judging, assessing, measuring. Try, at your peril, to live up to the expectations of these eyes. You will fail! There are just too many watchers; it is impossible to satisfy everyone of them.
Though I’d been teaching for eight years, I became a NQT (Newly Qualified Teacher) in my early forties. If I’d thought I’d experienced scrutiny while in seminary, it was nothing to what I now had to face. I’ve always had mixed feelings about the scrutiny a teacher must endure. In one sense, it emphasizes the importance of the role. Those who play with people’s savings are not, I think, subjected to the same level of oversight – how would they be able to lose fortunes and throw the whole world into turmoil if they were?
On the other hand, who the hell needs that amount of shoulder being looked over?
The thing about being a teacher, though, especially an English Teacher, if you’ll allow my bias, is that we get to contribute on a daily basis to the well-being of the future.
One can, of course, get caught up in the bureaucracy of teaching – and there is a Hellish amount – or one can wake up each day in the sure knowledge that, by the time you return to bed, some young person is going to have a thought, a realisation or simply do something they have never thought of or done before. It is not for me, fortunately, to judge the quality of teaching outside my own classroom. Inside my classroom, it is my responsibility to make students scratch their heads, admit their incomprehension and watch their eyes light up when they finally – and who cares how long it takes? – grasp a concept or accomplish a skill they never thought they’d be able to.
My point here is that relevance is, like so much of being human, a simple case of perspective. It is not my role in life to change the world. There are plenty others who undertake that burden. My role is what it is and, insofar as I do my best to fulfill it, I retain my relevance – even if it stretches no further than the four walls of my classroom.
Comments
Post a Comment