"Robert A. Heinlein - Have Space Suit Will Travel" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

to orient the child in democratic social living, to fit him for the vital,
meaningful tests of adult life in our complex modern culture. Excuse me, son;
I've talked with Mr. Hanley. Mr. Hanley is sincere -- and to achieve these
noble purposes we are spending more per student than is any other state save
California and New York."
"Well...what's wrong with that?"
"What's a dangling participle?"
I didn't answer. He went on, "Why did Van Buren fail of re-election? How
do you extract the cube root of eighty-seven?"
Van Buren had been a president; that was all I remembered. But I could
answer the other one. "If you want a cube root, you look in a table in the
back of the book."
Dad sighed. "Kip, do you think that table was brought down from on high
by an archangel?" He shook his head sadly. "It's my fault, not yours. I should
have looked into this years ago -- but I had assumed, simply because you liked
to read and were quick at figures and clever with your hands, that you were
getting an education."
"You think I'm not?"
"I know you are not. Son, Centerville High is a delightful place, well
equipped, smoothly administered, beautifully kept. Not a 'blackboard jungle,'
oh, no! -- I think you kids love the place. You should. But this -- " Dad
slapped the curriculum chart angrily. "Twaddle! Beetle tracking! Occupational
therapy for morons!"
I didn't know what to say. Dad sat and brooded. At last he said, "The
law declares that you must attend school until you are eighteen or have
graduated from high school."
"Yes, sir."
"The school you are in is a waste of time. The toughest course we can
pick won't stretch your mind. But it's either this school, or send you away."
I said, "Doesn't that cost a lot of money?"
He ignored my question. "I don't favor boarding schools, a teen-ager
belongs with his family. Oh, a tough prep school back east can drill you so
that you can enter Stanford, or Yale, or any of the best -- but you can pick
up false standards, too -- nutty ideas about money and social position and the
right tailor. It took me years to get rid of ones I acquired that way. Your
mother and I did not pick a small town for your boyhood unpurposefully. So
you'll stay in Centerville High."
I looked relieved.
"Nevertheless you intend to go to college. Do you intend to become a
professional man? Or will you look for snap courses in more elaborate ways to
make bayberry candles? Son, your life is yours, to do with as you wish. But if
you have any thought of going to a good university and studying anything of
importance, then we must consider how to make best use of your next three
years."
"Why, gosh, Dad, of course I want to go to a good -- "
"See me when you've thought it over. Good night."
I did for a week. And, you know, I began to see that Dad was right. Our
project in "Family Living" was twaddle. What did those kids know about running
a family? Or Miss Finchley? -- unmarried and no kids. The class decided
unanimously that every child should have a room of his own, and be given an