When I was a child, I was fascinated by Geronimo--his fierce face stared at me from a century away, in a sepia toned paperback I kept on the shelf above my bed, tucked between Stan Fischler's Thinking Man's Guide to Hockey and the latest issue of Mad Magazine.

My students hardly know Osama bin Laden. They hardly know the story of Goyaałé, better known as Geronimo. Linking them together speaks to our banality.

Who among us knows of the slaughter of his children and lover at Kas-Ki-Yeh?
Who among us knows of his hatred of Mexicans for this slaughter, a hatred that he carried through life?

If you kill someone's family, you may create a thirst that may never be quenched:
"All the other Apaches were satisfied after the battle of Kaskiyeh, but I still desired more revenge."

That we chose to use the name of one hero of people we coldly conquered not so long ago, upon whose land we sit now, to represent the our greatest enemy the past decade, says something about the people we have become.

Her name was Alope:
"Perhaps the greatest joy to me was that now I could marry the fair Alope, daughter of No-po-so. She was a slender, delicate girl, but we had been lovers for a long time."

The United States uses unmanned aerial vehicles ("drones") to hit targets in Afghanistan.  People die from machines reigning Hellfire missiles in very poor, very remote regions of our world. Each missile costs more an average teacher's salary.

How many Geronimos does each missile create? The code name may not be as ironic as we think.

Both photos in public domain.
No, it's not a science teacher post.

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