Hogwarts Ranked Dead Last For the Sixth Year in a Row!

In honor of the release of the sixth Harry Potter movie, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, I just thought I'd call attention to this interesting article written by the Daily Prophet during Harry's tenure at Hogwarts in the late 90s. Enjoy!

Hogwarts Sets New Low in Academic Incompetence
by Crespin Alcuin, Staff Writer
From the Daily Prophet, February 17, 1997

Another edition of Belzar’s Annual Guide to Europe’s Wizarding Schools has come out this week, and it is no surprise to see our own Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has once again come up dead last in the rankings. Things have gotten so bad that this reporter decided to pay a visit to the famous wizarding school to inspect the situation first hand. It’s depressing to see that after six years of being at the bottom of the academic heap, Hogwarts continues to surpass itself in educational mediocrity.

Ask a student at Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, or any of the other fine magic schools how many times they’ve been subject to physical damage or life-threatening situations in their studies, and you’re liable to get a laugh in return. “It’s a school,” they would say, waiting for the journalist to ask a real, serious question.

Yet in the six short years since it landed at the bottom of Belzar’s list, students at Hogwarts have been exposed to trolls, basilisks, hippogriffs, giant spiders, dementors, and a particularly nasty enchanted tree (which Headmaster Albus Dumbledore claims is necessary for “school security.”)

And that’s just for starters. At least one staff member has openly tried to kill students, one has been a werewolf, and plenty are woefully ignorant of even the most rudimentary magical spells. On top of all that, a popular student, Cedric Diggory, actually died during his final year at Hogwarts in a school-sanctioned sporting event. Has no one told Headmaster Dumbledore that this is not normal for a school with 11 to 18 year old children, even one that specializes in whimsical magic?

But the peril to which the school subjects her students is only a small part of the problem. More troublesome are the absolutely appalling academic standards set by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Though it is easy to place the blame for Hogwarts’ lax standards entirely on the headmaster’s shoulders, our readers must keep in mind that Dumbledore was headmaster for many years before the school took its tumble into the morass of educational malpractice.

Yet the old man’s educational philosophies can hardly help. Dumbledore is known to encourage students to skip class, often eager to impart some drummed up “life lesson” that “cannot be learned in an academic setting.” That’s all well and good, Mr. Dumbledore, but we do not pay costly Hogwarts tuition in order to simply watch our children wander off on some dangerous adventure, whatever they might “learn” from the experience.

If the dismal O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. scores didn’t speak for themselves, one need simply look at the quality of instruction offered at Hogwarts. Professor Sybill Trelawney, long discredited “psychic” is kept on staff, while groundskeeper Rubeus Hagrid has been repeatedly charged with endangering the lives of children. Whenever these allegations are brought up to Headmaster Dumbledore, the old man simply smiles and winks, as if that makes everything better. “I would trust Hagrid with my life,” he says with an infuriatingly coy grin.

“Hogwarts is an excellent school,” says top student Hermione Granger. “Dumbledore is always there to talk to or to send me on a secret mission with Harry (Potter) and Ron (Weasley).” At the mention of Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger’s face turned beet red, and it took her several moments to compose herself. When pressed about an incident in her 5th year, when students, so poorly educated by the school, actually turned to another student, the famous Harry Potter, to receive instruction, Ms. Granger grew standoffish.

“Dumbledore’s army was essential for fighting You-Know-Who. If we hadn’t done it, the Dark Lord may have succeeded in stealing the prophecy from the Ministry of Magic!” At examination of Ms. Granger’s attendance records during the period the so called “Dumbledore’s army” was active reveals that she has missed nearly half of her classes. “I’m doing important things!” She insisted. “Dumbledore doesn’t mind.”

When asked, Miss Granger failed to cast a single spell beyond the 3rd year level, identify the current Muggle prime minister of Britain, or locate France on a map. Increasingly flustered, Granger lashed out. “I’ve been very busy knitting socks for house eleves!” Miss Granger is expected to graduate Hogwarts at the top of her class next year.

“Oh yes,” said another student, who wished to remain anonymous, probably due to a noticeable and severe drug problem. “Hogwarts is very dangerous if you don’t know what to look out for. Very dangerous. I’ve never seen so many wrackspurts and nargles in one place. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, the snorkacks come and sing and the wrackspurts scatter. If they’re already in your brain, though, there’s nothing you can do. Very sad.” Wrackspurts and nargles. So this is what upper level magical education has come to.

“It’s utterly dreadful,” says Professor Severus Snape, whose slimy appearance suggests the lack of hygiene typical among Hogwarts students and staff. (One of the few bathing facilities has been infested with a particularly unpleasant ghost for 50 years. Dumbledore, in his infinite wisdom, says it gives the place character. Meanwhile, lice and skin problems run rampant.)

Snape provided his attendance records for the Prophet, pointing out that during the last five years, when Snape taught potions, students Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were absent an astounding 109 times. “During his 4th year, he attended class three times,” Snape says through gritted teeth. “Yet every year Dumbledore comes downstairs: ‘Oh Severus, the boy’s been through a lot, give him a passing grade this year. You must remember he’s not his father. Don’t take it out on him.’ I don’t understand it. I try to teach a class, Potter shows up three bloody times, doesn’t turn in a single assignment, and I’m the bad guy? It just doesn’t make sense.”

No Professor. No it doesn’t. The Prophet tried to catch up with the wily Harry Potter to ask him how he felt about the quality of education at Hogwarts, but of course he couldn’t be found anywhere on the grounds. When asked about his absence, Professor Minerva McGonagall simply smiled. “Oh, that Potter. Always up to something.”

During the close of my illuminating day at Hogwarts, I did manage an interview with one Ronald Weasley, which might just say all that needs to be said about education at Hogwarts. “Oh blimey! Hogwarts is a mess, isn’t it? Weasley sputtered in a barely comprehensible midlands accent. “You see the way Hermione looks at me, don’t you? She’s gone completely mental. Then there’s all this business with You-Know-Who, can’t go blabbering on about that, you know, very secret Dumbledore/Harry stuff—gets a little tiring! And that Lavender bird! Bad enough to be dealing with one girl, but two? Bloody hell! I can’t very well snog them both, can I? I ‘spose I could, of course, but before long, you know how it goes, it would go around and get ‘round to the other one, then I’m worse off then I started! I never asked for this!”

“I never asked for this.” After six years at the absolute bottom of the magical academy barrel, I’m sure plenty of tuition-paying parents are saying the same thing.

The Spaghetti Incident Revealed At Last? New Calvin and Hobbes Book On the Way

Calvin and Hobbes was an essential part of my childhood. Sometimes today I will write something, say something, or do something, only to realize that I was just ripping off Calvin and Hobbes. Bill Watterson’s drawings effortlessly captured the atmosphere of an idyllic suburban childhood, and though Calvin’s vocabulary and personality made him anything but a typical 6-year old, he managed to strike a chord with millions of readers. Calvin and Hobbes was childhood as viewed from adulthood—a long montage of snowmen, wagon rides, long summer days, and imaginary dreamscapes all rendered in some of the most beautiful artwork ever seen in the Sunday papers.

Recently I learned of a new book, Looking for Calvin and Hobbes, set to come out this fall. The author, Nevin Martell, is a longtime Calvin fan and the book promises to be an interesting search for the strip’s reclusive creator, Bill Watterson. It looks like it will be a great fix for Calvin and Hobbes fans like me who have been dying for any scrap of new information for years now.

Watterson is an oddity in modern pop culture—his creations were hugely popular, yet no official merchandise exists. Even stranger, there are almost no interviews or photos of him, and we know nothing of his personal life. My opinion of him tends to vary day to day and year to year—when I was a kid I admired his rejection of all things commercial (and I still do), and I still think he has a right to privacy, but to completely turn one’s back on an achievement like Calvin and Hobbes seems a bit, dare I say, arrogant.

Do artists owe anything to their fans? Or should the work completely speak for itself? That’s a long, long discussion, and probably one for another time. Ten years of great comics is probably enough to ask of one person, so I’m inclined to let the guy be a crazy recluse if he wants. Watterson has been a huge influence on me, both in his attitudes and art, so odds are if I ever get successful at writing I’d prefer to stay as far away from the spotlight as possible. Then some seldom read blogger can call me arrogant.

I do hope Looking for Calvin and Hobbes sheds some light on Bill Watterson and the creation of Calvin and Hobbes. Of course I doubt Martell will let us know whether he actually got in contact with the elusive author until we read the book, but I’m sure the search will be worth reading. I plan to read the book as soon as it comes out. I’ll try to stick up a review come October, and maybe write a bit more about the joys of Calvin and Hobbes.

In the meantime, the only source at all for any real info on Bill Watterson remains the excellent Calvin and Hobbes 10th Anniversary Book. Watterson writes a mini-commentary on several select strips, giving us a great insight into the creative process and his own struggles with commercialism. (This was my first introduction to what is the basically the concept of a “director’s commentary” and I’ve enjoyed listening to creative types yammer on about their creations ever since.) Watterson’s insights are honest, sometimes frustrated, often funny, and always entertaining. It’s a wonderful book for anyone interested in art, literature, or simply the thought process that went into the creation one of the greatest comics ever drawn.

Sometimes I Remember Why I Moved Out Here

The other day I was lucky enough to be an extra on the set of Iron Man 2. Being an extra isn’t a glamorous or even a fun job, but there are certainly worse things in the world to get paid for than watching the making of what promises to be an awesome movie.

Movie making can be unbelievably boring and tedious. I’ve been on a lot of film sets, and I’ve almost never seen people act as if they were having any fun. Especially in film school, everyone approached the process of movie-making with a deadly seriousness that bordered on ridiculousness. Part of that was probably the “school” factor weighing everyone down—school is rarely fun—but on so many sets it just didn’t feel like anyone was truly enjoying the process of making movies. Maybe I just didn’t see it.

But on Iron Man things were completely different. During one take, I caught sight of Jon Favreau, the director, watching a shot on the monitor and just giggling. It was a gigantic Hollywood production, probably one of the biggest movies out there right now, and the director was giggling and smiling like he was a kid with a video camera. In all the time I’ve been in LA, I’ve never once seen something so exciting and inspiring. People come out here to make movies because movies are fun, damn it. It can be so easy to forget that.

Watching the first Iron Man movie, it’s hard to pinpoint what exactly makes it such a fun movie. The script isn’t anything we haven’t seen before, the special effects aren’t groundbreaking—there’s nothing in the workings of the movie itself to point to and say “that’s why it works.” What makes the movie so great is that all the fun and joy Favreau and Downey Jr. put into making it shows up on screen. "I cry when I watch C.H.U.D." says Robert Downey Jr. on his love for movies--all movies. Sometimes I wonder, if you don't love movies that much, why would you do it?

Sure, there will always be bad days when making a movie. But at the end of the day, it should be fun. You can get so much out of filmmaking if you just love what you’re doing. If someone doesn’t get a thrill from pointing a camera at Iron Man, I honestly have nothing to say to them. It’s Iron Man, for God’s sake! Anyone, no matter what it is they’re doing, should be as happy as Jon Favreau was making Iron Man. Otherwise, look for something else to do.