For a number of years, I taught a complex, short story to a bunch of gifted, upper elementary kids, as part of a screening for advanced placement in middle school (my former school was located in an affluent suburban area). The title of the story was The Fourth Man, and it was written by the late John Russell.* If you google Russell or “fourth man,” you may find the story, but you will locate a link to the radio show version of The Fourth Man, entitled Escape (some of my former students found the radio script and enjoyed role playing the criminals). Today, this remarkable and timely piece might be banned (over the weekend, NY Times columnist Michelle Goldberg offered excellent insights on the motivation underlying the current attempt to ban books) by members of school boards and others.
Spoiler alert—this story is true to its title; set about a century ago, The Fourth Man is a character study of four (very different) men, three of whom are escaping from prison life in New Caledonia (an island near New Zealand and even New Zealanders–whom I met in 2019–think New Caledonia is remote). The character called the fourth man or “native”–I consider the “native” to be the star of the story— is an indigenous tribesman. My former students enjoyed googling images of this “native” islander and reflecting on the stark similarities (both physical and intellectual) between this “native” and societal impressions of black men in the US (and parallels to the way Jews were treated by Hitler). If you are wondering, all of the students in the class were white.
Our class concluded that The Fourth Man was not a story about an escape, but rather a story about our global caste system.
To give you a deeper understanding, a quick summary of the three villains:
The first, former inmate and architect of the “escape” was a most privileged man, a learned doctor, Doctor Dubosc; Doctor Dubosc was imprisoned because he committed murder, or so the authorities said.
The second, former inmate was convicted of forgery. I found the second character to be selfish and rather boring, spending a large part of his time fawning over Doctor Dubosc while waiting to be rescued.
The third, former inmate was described as an authentic, street fighter, and known to be very pragmatic (sadly, he does beat up on the “native” which my former students, and I found destructive, indecent, and disturbing)!
On to a central theme (as revealed in the plot) the third inmate intimates that Doctor Dubosc’s foolproof plan could fall to the wayside, asking:
“Suppose we get a storm.”
Just saying–even today there are a lot of storms brewing over speculative (rather ridiculous) outcomes, including the impact of exposure to certain content in the classroom. For my two-cents, being spooked by reading content in the classroom is remarkable, given unchecked exposure to social media. Also, don’t kids live with and talk to their parents (or at a minimum, don’t parents observe what their kids are reading? Aren’t parents (or guardians) the ultimate arbiters of what kids can and cannot do?
Back to the story: the three former men have a lot of downtime on the raft and begin to discuss the characteristics of the so-called, hardly human, definitely (to the inmate/escapees at least) inferior, “native.” Again, this “native” has ably ferried the three former prisoners to a rendezvous site (the first leg of the inmate/escapees’ return to Paris, and these allegedly civilized escapees are getting restless and hungry because their rescue vehicle, a schooner, is–for reasons unknown–delayed).
The Doctor begins his analysis of the “native:”
I see a Konauk [the so-called “native” on this raft with us]. He does not join us. He does not look at us. He sits on his heels, in the way of the native, with his arms hugging his knees. He sits at the stern, motionless, under the shattering sun. Gazing out into…into vacancy.…
The forger or second inmate/escapee wonders:
What’s going on in his [native’s] brain? What does he dream of there? He looks as though he hates us.
Dr. Dubosc is doing his best to convince the others, that the “native” is a man, though not a “civilized” man:
It is a man, and a very poor and wretched example of a man. You’ll find no lower type anywhere. Look at his cranial angle. The high ears. The heavy boned of his skull. Why, he’s scarcely above an ape.
What else do I remember about this story? Well, the vocabulary is daunting, the indifference to others heart-wrenching, and the brutal, physical, and verbal abuse (yup, this story might be banned) is off the charts dehumanizing. If you have some time, please read the story; it will stay with you, and if you are an open person, it might change how you feel about others and othering. This story changed how some suburban kids thought about each other and made me so proud of their evolving ideas.
A short description of how this story appeared to shift student thinking:
Circa, 2005
A girl named Beth to a girl named Annie:
I’m thinking that this story kinda applies to our life in suburbia.
Another brief aside from me, the teacher: research has shown that kids can safely grapple with complex emotions and personal experience through literary analysis; in gifted lingo, this is called “bibliotherapy.”
Beth goes on—and to give you context, there are about 20 kids in this class. Desks are no longer in vogue, so these students sit together at tables and can easily dialogue about the story.
Beth tells Annie: for example, I would have never met you on the playground; we have different friends [today, it would be “friend groups.”].
Beth is one honest kid—Beth adds:
I would have never even looked at you; you don’t care what you wear, and you just like to play at the edge of the blacktop; sometimes, by yourself.
Now most of us in the class are looking at Annie. Annie is sitting at a different table than Beth, but there are others at the table with Annie and they appear to be staring at Annie the hardest.
Was Annie stunned? I don’t remember. We all became distracted as Beth continued:
And now, Annie, Beth, added in a genuine tone, in this class, I am interested in what you have to say. We’ve met, and we are friends in this class and we wouldn’t have met but for this class.”
I don’t know whether Beth and Annie ever played together on the playground; it wasn’t until a few years later when I got totally fed up with the gossip in the teacher’s lounge (yup, certain teachers disparaging their students) and took playground duty (also to help my principal) that I escaped and joined the kids. And truly, at that time, most of the students were enjoying recess; some of them even shot hoops with me and others.
Teacher takeaway: most kids listen to each other, and playgrounds can be islands of hope, survival, positive learning experiences, and perhaps even inclusion; aha moments from the journey in New Caledonia.
Notes:
Notes, https://sites.google.com/site/mendomundo/home/the-fourth-man
A short story pushes thinking on relationships, caste, and emotions!
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