Animal Farm

A harsh florescent light flickers overhead, gradually dimming, my interest in symbolism dimming as well. Our teacher begins to question us, asking, “What does the Great Windmill in George Orwell's Animal Farm  symbolize?”

            A boy sitting next to me raises his hand, eager for the approval of our uninspired, unimaginative teacher. She points to him, indicating with a nod of her head that she is awaiting his answer. Smiling at the thought of even the most minuscule amount of praise, he opens his mouth, the words of his response tumbling over themselves in their impatience to be heard. Taking a deep breath, he declares,“It signifies the combined efforts of all of the animals on the farm.” His grin begins to fade as he searches her face for signs of approval and finds none.

            Barely even pausing to consider his response, she harshly replies, “No.” In a louder voice she proclaims, “For those of you who actually read the book, the answer should be obvious. The Great Windmill symbolizes the pigs' manipulation of other animals for personal gain.”

            Looking over at the crushed student, now wearing an expression that somehow communicates all of his pain and disappointment at the teacher's reprove, I begin to wonder: Why can there be only one interpretation of the windmill? And why did the teacher refuse to discuss or even simply acknowledge the possible existence of other interpretations?

            Although this incident happened a long time ago, more recent occurrences have only served to reinforce what I learned that day; that schools in California do not encourage abstract thinking or creativity. They do exactly the opposite. Just as a young child is taught that he or she must never color outside of the lines in a coloring book, we are taught as teenagers that individuality is unacceptable, that nonconformity must be suppressed.