Mr. Fox was my twelfth grade teacher, I learned more in his class than in any other class. High school wasn’t that fun but his class was. I asked him to write something for Lunchmeat and this is what he gave us. Hope you are interested enough to read it all.

Way, way back in high school, pre-dating the word ‘zine’, I along with my friend, Michael Elowitz, began an underground school newspaper not wholly unlike Lunchmeat. Ostensibly, we began it because we had a lot to say and we didn’t want anyone else to tell us how to say it. Also, we were too lazy to take a Journalism class and unwilling to accept their hierarchies.

We called it Weltanschauung, a German word meaning ‘world view’. We’d learned the strange sounding term from our Communist Social Studies teacher who was convinced the revolution was around the corner. The title reflected our feeling that we had something to say and, gosh darn, we were going to say it.

That year our Theater Department had put on a big production of Annie. Being the critical arty type, I decided to review the school musical. There had been lots of buzz surrounding the show’s big budget and it being the first musical production from a new Arts Program somewhat akin to Envision.

Now Hamilton, my alma mater, wasn’t a prestigious institution. Hamilton sat at the crossroads of a couple of different L.A. neighborhoods; some middle class and others lower than that. Most of the middle class families shipped their kids out to private schools and the local pride and campus funding had fallen on hard times. Hopes were that this new Arts Program would revitalize our long dilapidated school.

I attended Annie not caring about any of this. I was a journalist. I was objective. I would tell my story. Shout my weltanschauung.

I started my review with the words something like, “Annie is a horrible musical. The songs are syrupy. The story is corny. And the characters are unbearable.” I continued saying that the acting was good and the sets were cool. Then, I lambasted the school for spending such lavish funds on such a tacky production.

Where are our priorities? What about books? What about the failing kids? Why such a sucky show?

We distributed Weltanschauung like we always did – handing them out to those willing to take them or unwilling to decline. I’m not sure anyone read them, but it felt good to get our thoughts out there.

That afternoon, I was called out of Wood Shop to the AP’s office. My AP was Mr. Kuback, a cantankerous little man with a Hitler moustache. He had a sharp queeny drawl that would cut you. I wasn’t thrilled to see him and was annoyed to leave smell of the sawdust.

Arriving at his office, Mr. Kuback beckoned me to sit beside an unfamiliar adult. Kuback introduced me to the new head of the Hamilton Arts Program. Holding a copy of the new Weltanschauung aloft, Kuback asked me if I’d written the review. I said I had.

Mr. K lit into me. How dare I impugn the good name of the Hamilton Arts Program? How dare I disparage the hard work of these diligent artists? How dare I damage the reputation this new program was seeking to build?

I was asked to apologize.

I was incensed. How dare he ask me this? How dare he pull me out of Wood Shop? How dare he deny me my freedoms of the press? Wasn’t this America? I was a victim!

After hemming and hawing for a few minutes, I apologized. Not because I felt I should. Not because I thought I’d done something wrong. But because I was sick of the conversation and I felt that Kuback would clearly hold it against me. Besides, I knew I could use the story in the future. I would play the roll of the tough journalist battling against oppression. I would be the voice speaking the truth in the face of the harsh authoritarian state.

Indeed, that’s how I told the story. That was the role I played. I played the victim. I played the ‘fist in the air’ revolutionary. I was fighting for the right to hate Annie out in the open.

I look at Lunchmeat and it reminds me of those days. Those days when saying my weltanschauung was so important. When fighting the good fight was so important.

I still fight the good fight. I still shout my weltanschauung. I’m not so sure that I think saying anything at any time is as important as I once did – I’m not so sure that I wouldn’t play Kuback’s role now.

In fact, I don’t think I was such a Christ figure anymore. Kuback had a point. He wasn’t censoring me. He wasn’t saying I couldn’t have my opinion. He was having me be aware of the consequences of my words. He had me look into the eyes of one I had affected. Indeed, I was only asked to apologize. Back then, an apology felt like an affront. But what is an apology? It’s an acknowledgement that your actions have effects. A recognition. Moreover, it’s listening. It’s connecting. It’s seeing the situation from another point of view – another weltanschauung.

Was Weltanschauung only about speaking my point of view? Or was it about appreciating another’s as well? Was it about my expression? Or was it about the value of expression itself?

Indeed, the Arts School had a lot at stake in the production of Annie. They were trying to establish themselves and a positive reputation in our community. Ultimately, they hoped to improve the school as a whole – the same goal I had. In fact, they succeeded where my whining didn’t. Hamilton, just a few years later, developed such a great reputation that they were turning students away. My mother still sends newspaper articles about the school’s successes. They’re the L.A. City School’s version of Julliard.

Still, so many years later, weltanschauungs remain important to me. I’m glad they do to you.

Viva Lunchmeat!