Clay Matthews is a "retired" elementary school history teacher. Although he may no longer be in the classroom, Clay continues to explore his love for history and teaching through the internet, where unlimited, unregulated, and unsupervised access to curious and eager young minds is easier than ever before. Clay believes in taking a fun approach to history and his brand of teaching is the purest form of "edutainment" or "entercation." With his interactive and imaginative time-travel method of instructing history, Mr. Matthews never fails to expand the minds of his entranced students.Why hello there, fellow time travelers! You'll never guess where my history-jumping adventures took me this week! Why, just yesterday morning I jumped into my magical history pod, ready for yet another informative escapade... but little could I tell that I was in for my most exciting journey yet! I set my history clock for 1831--the great year that William Lloyd Garrison began The Liberator newspaper, Victor Hugo published The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and Charles Darwin began his world-changing voyage on the HMS Beagle--unaware of what to expect! After a tumultuous trip through the annals of the past, I climbed out of my history pod and found myself... in Indian Territory, or what is present day Oklahoma!
In my discombobulated state of bewilderment, I overheard the faint noise of wailing. Sharpening my gaze to the horizon, I could see clearly approaching a large band of figures--thousands upon thousands upon thousands of red men! Surrounding them and swarming upon them were hundreds of soldiers and other white men, driving them on, keeping them moving. The Injuns were weeping from the onslaught, but more than that, from their lost land, their lost people, their lost culture, their lost dignity. Without a doubt, I had stumbled upon one of the most interesting events in our nation's history: The Trail of Tears!
I ran out to the crowd, screaming at the white men to stop their horrific acts. They turned to me, initially confused by my strange garb of the future, and started to scream back. "You have no idea what's going on!" they yelled. "We're doing this for their own good, as well as the good of the nation." "Why, how horribly racist!" I retorted. However, kids, I couldn't keep my curiosity subdued. I always explore every opportunity to learn more about history, as you all know! Unable to help myself, I asked, "What could they have possibly done? How could this act possibly be for the purpose of good?"
I tell you, kids, I could never have anticipated his response. There are some things that the history books tell you, and there are some things that you just have to experience for yourself. Suffice to say, young minds, I learned the truth that day. The white man stared back at me and said, "Why, we're not punishing them at all! We're actually all helping them! We're all just having a bit of fun!" he said. I jumped back, shocked out of my socks! I pressed him to continue. "You know why they really call this the trail of tears?" he asked. I started to say "Yes," but immediately stopped, and slowly hung my head and shook it from side to side. "Indians just love jokes. They tell them all the time! One day, a few months ago back in their homeland in Florida, the chief of the tribe told a joke so funny that everyone who heard it immediately burst out in a fit of uncontrollable laughter! People were laughing so hard that tears were streaming out down their faces like waterfalls! They ran off to tell all their friends the joke, and pretty soon, the entire tribe was laughing hysterically! By the evening, the whole tribe was ankle deep in their own tears! 'What should we do now?' they asked. The answer was simple: Water sliding! Everyone started sliding on their bellies for hours and hours and hours, barely noticing that they were moving further and further away from home! Before they knew it, they were in Alabama, and then Missouri, and then Arkansas, water sliding all the way! And here we are now--they've made it all the way here! You see those Indians laying down there? They're not dead, they're just water sliding! You see those people weeping? They're still laughing hysterically from the chief's joke! So, you see, everything can be explained after all!"
I thought long and hard about what he said. Then I queried, "Well, that's all fine, but why are you beating them?" He let loose a hearty chuckle and responded, "My friend, don't you know, all Indians are masochists! Nothing gets them off more than being beaten and humiliated. They ran across us about a state back and asked kindly if we could possibly do them the favor of beating the shit out of them. I gotta tell you, I've never been known to turn down a request."
So that there is the real truth, children. We've never done anything but assist the plight of the Indian, no matter what the "history" books may say. But we're not done yet--there's still quite a lot left to my adventure! No sooner had the white man finished talking than Air Force One flew down from the horizon and out stepped no other than Grover Cleveland, our first dog President! "Your dedication to our great nation has been commendable," he told me. "From the shores of Vietnam to the deep jungles of Japan, your military service has been truly indispensable. And that's why I need you to kill the Terminator." I wasn't about to be taken in by Grover's lies, though! I knew what he was trying to do. I took a revolver from my side, placed it on his forehead, and pulled the trigger. Brains exploded everywhere--on the ground, on the white men, even on the Indians!
It was about that time that I woke up naked in a cold sweat on my apartment floor with my head in a puddle of dried vomit. Whew, what an adventure! Who knows where my next opium binge will take me! Well kids, see you next week, and remember: If you come to my house while your parents aren't looking, you can always come into my pod and time-travel with me!
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