Read Online No Easy Answers by Brooks Brown Rob Merritt - Free Book Online Page A

myself at odds with the teachers on almost everything. I remember when we were studying the book Animal Farm , by George Orwell. The book deals with animals that rise up against their oppressive owner and take over their own farm. From there, they try to establish rules that give all animals equality, but the power-hungry pigs eventually take over until, by the end of the book, they are every bit as oppressive as the humans that came before them.
    I felt that Orwell wrote the book as a criticism of socialism. However, our teacher at Columbine wanted us to look at it as “socialism gone wrong.” She argued that the entire book is great, up until the point where the pigs became dominant. In my opinion, the point of the book is that things went wrong the moment the animals opted for socialism, and we were being taught the exact opposite of the author's intent.
    Ideally, in a place where free exchange of ideas could happen, I could have argued that point without fear of repercussions. Instead, I kept my mouth shut. I had already been taught what happens when students went against the flow at Columbine.
    On test days in my American Civics class, those of us who finished early were allowed to use the rest of the class period for reading. One day, after I'd finished a test, I pulled out a copy of Atlas Shrugged , by Ayn Rand.
    The teacher approached me and picked up the book from my desk.
    “What are you doing?” I said.
    “I don't like Ayn Rand,” she said. “I don't want her being read in my classroom.”
    “You can't do that,” I said. I was actually laughing. I couldn't believe it. “You're going to take away a book in American Civics class?”
    She responded that I was disrupting other students who were taking the test. I just shrugged, knowing I wasn't going to change her mind. A few days later, I got my book back. But I never forgot. For kids who wanted to think for themselves and go outside the lines, Columbine High School was not the place to be.

    Because Eric was riding the bus with me every day, we hung out quite a bit during freshman year. I liked him; not only was he smart, he had a twisted sense of humor. He also had unique ways of showing off his feelings.
    There was a girl named Tiffany Typher who rode the bus with us, and Eric took her to Homecoming our freshman year. Unfortunately for Eric, it wound up being their only date; she didn't want to go out with him again after that. Eric was pretty bummed out, because he had liked her a lot. So he decided to play a prank on her as revenge.
    We decided to use some fake blood left over from Halloween to give Tiffany a scare. As the three of us were walking past Eric's house, I started talking to Tiffany to distract her while Eric set his plan in motion. Then, once he was ready, he let out a scream.
    Both of us turned in time to see Eric lying on the ground with a bloodied rock in his hand. His head and neck were covered in fake blood, and he was no longer moving; it looked like he'd bashed his own head in.
    For a few seconds I played along, acting all concerned for my friend. Then I couldn't hold it back anymore and I burst into laughter. Eric did too, chuckling hysterically as he picked his bloodied self up off the ground. Tiffany told him that he was extremely immature, and stormedoff to her house. Needless to say, Eric wasn't any closer to getting another date with her after that.
    We were an obnoxious group of kids sometimes. We liked to rebel against the establishment, against our peers, and against our parents. We found that there was an enjoyment to be had in doing things differently, and shocking people. Obviously I would never cover myself in fake blood today. But at the time, we saw it as a funny way for Eric to get back at one more person who had rejected him.
    All of us were finding ways to rebel, whether it was our clothes, our music, or our attitudes. For me, it was reading. I would spend class time reading books I had brought with me instead of