Ah, sweet memories.

I haven't always been a Poindexter. Back in sixth grade, my favorite subjects were racing in the halls, recess and lunch. Class work bored me: Math, shmath, reading, shmeading.

I stuck with it because I had to. My parents and teachers not only told me this stuff was important, they believed it! They went so far as to say that one day I'd read and write without anyone hanging over my shoulder -- and that I'd like it!

And, wouldn't you know it, they were right. Slowly but surely, their love of learning became my own.

I can't imagine how much poorer my life would be if not for their slightly coercive enthusiasm.

That scene came to mind last Sunday as I read The N&O's report about a plan by Chapel Hill's Culbreth Middle School to give hand-held iPod Touch computers to every teacher and student. While the idea seems sound, the logic behind it is shaky. Noting that many students already rely on high-tech devices, Principal Susan Wells said, "It's a world we better figure out, because we can't ask our students to come into a classroom, put those things aside and sit in a row and think we're interesting. We're just not that interesting."

I love my gizmos, but the notion that machines are more interesting than smart, engaged people is unutterably wrong.

It's not hard to believe that sixth-graders who spend too much time in front of computer and TV screens might come to that conclusion. It's the responsibility of adults to show them the folly of their Wiis. Instead of challenging her students to look up and see the wonders all around them, Wells is encouraging them to keep their heads down, buried in the virtual sand.

If her faculty members aren't interesting, Wells should recruit new ones.

Her comments reminded me of the best advice an editor ever gave me: There are no boring stories, only boring reporters. Everything is interesting. It's your job to find that kernel in every assignment. His wisdom was put to the test while I covered many a local zoning board meeting, but ultimately, he was right.

Teachers have an easier task because the materials they work with -- great works of literature, absorbing histories, intriguing facts and ideas -- are by definition fascinating. The hard thing is making them dull.

The curse of curiosity

Wells' comment is especially troubling because it reflects the wider devaluing of culture and curiosity in American life. This trend can be measured in innumerable ways, such as the National Endowment for the Arts surveys reporting steady declines in the number of Americans who read books for pleasure.

Let me ask you: When was the last time you met anyone who was embarrassed because they didn't know something?

A few decades ago, most Americans would be loath to admit that they didn't take a daily newspaper. Now, too many proclaim this with pride.

Not too long ago, Time magazine routinely put writers and other artists on its cover because its readers felt some obligation to know at least a little about the creative class. Today, high culture is M.I.A. in the mainstream, and the only artists who consistently receive attention are famous actors and singers.

A visit to your local newsstand, bookstore, recital hall, jazz club or museum will tell you brilliance persists. But it is increasingly consigned to that ghetto where we sent our poets awhile back: The Land of Unacknowledged Genius.

I'm not arguing that we have retreated from a golden age when every American was reading Shakespeare and debating the merits of Jackson Pollock's abstract canvases. If we cranked up our trusty Dolt-o-Meter (available at fine stores everywhere), we would discover that the number of clueless saps has diminished over time.

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