The day has become an interminable Duck Duck Goose game in which she has only one chance to be picked. She senses it is very important that this happen, has felt this certainty in her stomach since Ludowski started on K. Eliza assures herself that as soon as she gets called out her stomach will stop churning, she will stop sweating, and the cursive capital Q will start looking like a letter instead of like the number 2.
Page 13
Eliza goes through the trauma of not being selected for TAG testing. This had me squirming before I got to the "tricky" parts of Bee Season. We all remember it... that week of school where we all wondered whether we have made the cut, are we in or out? Are we to be judged for being "on level" or let's just say it, normal? Maybe we're one of the judges, the ones who think "the rest of them" will never be really one of our peers. We begrudgingly make our way back to "regular" class, because they can't teach us and test them (perhaps they are in the middle of Summer of the Monkeys) where we are nonchalant and pretentious to cover our confusion. This is because the teachers are testing our potential set of new peers, and we have to return from Narnia, secretly hoping that a few of them will be a proverbial Cousin Eustace. (The spoiled, obstinate cousin whom we might permit, amidst grumbling, to come with us, if he will learn to understand Aslan's world. In the story, when he does, he makes an even more radical transformation than the Pevensies, during and after his time as a dragon.)
That wasn't the only thing that had me squirming, a few lines down (page 15) they mention "special needs". Granted, the principal has a rather solid perspective on the whole idea: he doesn't like the 'R' word any more than I do, and he seems to genuinely value his daughter's unique qualities. I do find it interesting that the two topics are juxtaposed here. As a person who qualified for both TAG and Special Ed (which, in either, or both cases, I know for school-age kids means they've handed you weird on a platter!) , I often found myself with my wheels in two camps. Many professionals did not know how to serve me, they weren't used to dealing with a body that did not match its head. Teachers did not believe I belonged in their classroom, and would sometimes quiz me to catch me in the act. My peers would enjoy the short reprieve from answering questions, but by the second week, some were balking at the competition.
On the other side, having the label of "I was in TAG" carries a lot of baggage. It does away with a lot of explanations and a lot of the burden of proof that comes with the question (spoken or unspoken): "What are you doing here?" The response soon transforms into something like "Amy, distinguished scholar (future Nobel prize winner)"[I'm not kidding, that has actually been stated in a roast of seniors; talk about pedestal-building, unwieldy expectations just because I happen to be different] My mother is fond of saying "The more letters you have behind your name, the less explaining you have to do!". The first time, she meant honors societies, TAG, AP/IB, and a BA... but I may have taken her a bit too literally, because I'm not stopping until I get the letters P-H-D! I recognize the same ticket punch raising of expectations in phrases like "Aaron, the cantor's son (future Rabbi)" or "Elly, the regional spelling bee champ (future direct link to God)". Ideas like this give all the characters a certain level of clearance and credence, but it also creates an unreasonable gap between the elect and not elect; and builds up these characters as flawless heroes who must live up to the narratives imposed by the public, including those they place on each other.
Furthermore, why is it okay for Saul to shut either of his children behind or out of the study door? Especially given his feelings as Miriam shuts him out increasingly often. Is it possible for Saul to accept more than one person, more specifically more than one child, into his study (metaphorical and literal) at a time? Is it a mutually exclusive election? Does he think it is? Do Elly and Aaron believe that the only expression of love from Saul is in the study (both)? Do they know for sure that they are loved by their father whether or not they are inside the study? That is unclear. Sometimes it is unclear even when they're in the study (literal)! When we apply Karl Barth's logic, the reality that Saul loves the children may be undermined by the fact that they cannot recognize it outside of the study or outside of achievement. This skews their perception of their value as members of the family, congregation, and the community of intellectuals. The ability to be smart, and to access the scholarly view of spirituality becomes a (somewhat unachievable) rubric for election in the family. This weighs particularly heavy on Elly in the beginning, shifts to Aaron, and then to both more equally. This view of their father's system of election seems to foster a vision of God that is less than expansive, while hampering a healthy relationship with the divine as well as with parental figures.
This achievement based at the doctrine of election, where you have to have the right type of achievement, the right kind of intellect, or the ideal physical type seems rather conditional. How can God love an all good creation if humans must earn the attention of a parental Creator? An overextension of the doctrine of election seems to violate the doctrine of grace.
In these sorts of situations, it is hard to tell who is the elect. Is it the seemingly broken one with a smart head and a sharp tongue, or is it the straight A speller who is never chosen (for TAG) at all (yet)? Who chooses? The second grade teacher? [The neurologist?] The pronouncer? Who's in charge of the laying on of hands? Aaron? Saul? Miriam? God? [Spiritual leaders/healers?] Are we in charge of our own destiny? Do we decide when we get "dinged out"? By this I mean that we have been told that we are not elect, but we have not won, that we are not acceptable. Do we decide, to use Wesleyan terminology, when we stop striving for perfection? Who's in control of the bell? Who is in control of the dictionary? Can words be added? Do we each have our own language, our own comfort zone? Is there such a thing as an individual doctrine of election?
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