Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [105]
Chamberlain waited, began to get impatient. “Sir, if you don’t mind, can you tell me the nature of these complaints?”
Woods looked uncomfortable, glanced over to Caldwell, who said, “Professor Chamberlain, I have the highest regard for your abilities. But several of the faculty members have been hearing reports of some unusual discussions . . . unorthodox goings-on in your classroom. It is said that your views on this war—”
“Your views on this war are causing some disruption in this school.” Chamberlain looked for the voice, saw a man lean forward from the far corner, Dr. Givins, the old mathematics professor, thin wisps of white hair scattered over a pale spotted scalp.
“Professor Chamberlain?” Woods saw the need to speak up, and took charge. “Have you been advising your students to volunteer for the army?”
Chamberlain looked around the room, saw the stern old faces, and the small smiling face of Grodin. He looked at Woods, saw the weary expression of a man who has better things to do.
“President Woods, I have expressed to my students that there is a significance to the events down South . . . that it is quite likely our nation is in jeopardy. I have not had to recommend to anyone on what course they should follow, they are quite capable of deciding for themselves.”
“Ridiculous!” It was Givens, and he stood up, a bent old man, pointed at Chamberlain and said, “Wars are not fought by children! Young man, if you care about the well-being of this institution, then your time could be better spent teaching these students to consider the greater good!”
Chamberlain stared at the man, tried to understand what he was talking about. “The greater good?”
“This college! The enrollment. What is going to happen to this fine institution if the students rush off and join the army? It’s madness! What of their futures? You’re teaching them foolishness!”
Woods raised his hands, leaned toward Givens, said, “Please, Doctor, we are all gentlemen here. Your point is understood—”
“No, Dr. Woods, I’m afraid his point is not understood at all.” Chamberlain stood up, could see Givens now, small in his distant chair.
“Wars are indeed fought by children, by young people who have little say in where they are sent to die. The greater good? These students may not have a greater good if this nation is dissolved. If this war goes on, we will all feel the consequences, whether we understand them or not. It is our job, our responsibility, to prepare these young people for life out there . . . outside these buildings. And right now that life is very uncertain. I’m sorry if you feel your responsibility ends in your classroom.”
Caldwell stood, did not look at Chamberlain, spoke to Woods. “I’m sure that Professor Chamberlain will concede that there is not much that any of us can do that will affect the outcome of this war. The government’s problems go well beyond the needs and influences of one small college. Dr. Woods, we have made a great deal of progress in building the reputation of Bowdoin as a place where students may come to receive a modern and practical education. Professor Chamberlain has contributed greatly to that reputation, and will continue to do so. Certainly he can understand the benefits of not allowing himself to be sidetracked by issues that are so far removed from that goal.”
“With all respect to you, Dr. Caldwell . . .” Chamberlain paused, spoke slowly. “If we attempt to teach these students that the most important lessons they will learn are the lessons to be found within these buildings, then we have done them a most serious injustice. And they will discover that quickly, once they leave here. You . . . some of you may be satisfied with the job you do, you may pat yourselves on the back after your daily lectures and sit back in your offices, confident that you have done some great service for our young people, but I am having an increasing difficulty with that. Right now . . . there