18 March 2020

To my beloved students in exile:

Greetings.

Before I plunk out my affection for you on these keys, here are some thoughts.

• In 524, Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius—a man you have already met—was falsely accused of plotting against Theodoric, the barbarian king of Western Rome. Boethius was seized, sentenced to death, and awaited his execution without trial and in exile—away from his wife and sons. (In fact, you might even say he was forced to be socially distanced from them.)
• In 1300, Dante Alighieri—another one of your BFFs—was one of six members of the city council of Florence. Yet in that year, the council learned that an army, one led by Charles of Valois (the brother of Philip IV, king of France), was about to invade Florence. Dante, being the greatest wordsmith on the council, was sent to Rome in hopes that the pope could negotiate a truce with the invaders. Only upon arriving there did Dante learn that the pope himself—Boniface VIII, that biggest big bully—was actually involved in the plot to conquer Florence. Dante fled home, but he was too late. Florence was already taken, and its conquerors issued a strong warning to Dante—return and die, or stay in permanent exile. After trying and failing over the next few years to raise his own personal army, Dante finally chose the latter. But that choice meant he would spend the next 20 years in exile—quarantined from his wife and his four children.
• But in 525, shortly before he was executed, Boethius left behind a manuscript called The Consolation of Philosophy.
• Then in 1321, after 20 years in exile and just six months before dying, Dante finally finished The Divine Comedy.
• Both of these men wrote their greatest works in exile, sequestered from their home soil, and in utter isolation from family and friends. They could have felt sorry for themselves, and no doubt, they did. They could have called the universe unfair and accused God of injustice, and no doubt, they did that too. But in spite of their feelings, in spite of the unfairness of it all, they refused to give up or give in. Boethius and Dante pressed on—and by doing so, they found out just how high their spirits could soar.

I bet you can tell where this is going. (I haven’t concealed it too well, have I?) We are facing an exile of our own. Professional sports leagues have shut down; entertainment industries and fitness centers have closed their doors; now, dining services have been forced to limit their services to curb-side pickup. Everyone has retreated indoors, and, at least at my house, it’s already feeling cramped and stuffy.

The road we are facing feels unprecedented, doesn’t it? But the good news is that it’s not; it’s a road that has been walked before. And now, it’s ours to take together. There will be some bumps along the way, no doubt (or should I call them “lags”?). As an educator, this is uncharted territory for me. So I plan to start slow and to figure out what expectations are reasonable. There will be a learning curve as well, and that curve will likely be more significant for myself and the rest of your teachers. We will need your help, and we will need your patience.

But these are obstacles, not deterrents. Boethius and Dante have paved the road for us, and this quarter you get to meet my third literary hero—John Milton—an English poet who composed Paradise Lost while he was blind! So let’s finish together, and let’s finish strong. This my last quarter with you, beloved students, and I can promise you this—it’s a journey worth finishing.

See you soon!

Sincerely,

Mr. Bassett