The Golden Boy’s favourite song is “Another brick in the wall”. Don’t get me wrong- we have listened and watched “Gangham Style” fifty thousand times since last fall, and the Golden Boy and Princess’s “horsey” dance moves are indeed particularly adorable. But the way he perks up when he hears the first opening non-musicy notes of “Another brick” together with his hopeful question “is this the elupashen song? What was it?” has me convinced. Another heart in thrall to Pink Floyd.
When the Golden Boy first started realizing that he loved this song, he didn’t even know what it was about. He heard it on the classic rock radio channels we listen to and from school, he heard the kids chanting in their dorky working-class accent, and he realized they were chanting to him, even if he didn’t know the word “education”. He realized those kids and that song was all about his world and his life.
Then we watched the music video. With my particularly academic talent of making even the most interesting subjects crashingly dull, finely honed after years and years in universities, I explained that this was what schools used to be like- children don’t get beaten up in schools anymore. After all, isn’t their school, full of brightly-coloured paintings, with the word “Welcome” in fifty different languages on The Wall, so different from the grim torture camps that Pink Floyd is singing about? Don’t they have a unique and innovative “fuzzies” system? (positive reinforcement- every time a kid does something nice, like holding the door open for someone, they get a fuzzy, and once the class has a certain amount of fuzzies, they get to pick a treat- pajama day or movie day or something. This has resulted in kids racing down hallways to hold the door for the principal, knocking each other over and bashing themselves in the process).
My words are mere apologetics, like Aquinas and Christianity. The Golden Boy knows better. The similarity between the classrooms of Pink Floyd’s song and his own is far, far greater than the differences, beatings and colours none withstanding. The means are different, the end result, another brick in the wall, is more or less the same. The Golden Boy can easily see this, even at the tender age of seven. Pink Floyd simply told him what he knew already.