When you Google me, you'll find a lot of people don't like

Host: The university lecture hall was half-empty, the air still humming with the echo of debate. Rows of old desks, scratched and uneven, gleamed faintly beneath the flickering fluorescent lights. Outside, a late rain had begun — soft, rhythmic, almost apologetic. Inside, the chalkboard still bore the faint white dust of passion: “Democracy fails when ignorance becomes comfort.”

Host: Jack stood by the board, sleeves rolled up, chalk in hand — his eyes sharp, tired, and alive with conviction. Jeeny sat on the edge of the front desk, her arms crossed, watching him. A half-empty coffee cup cooled beside her. The debate had ended fifteen minutes ago, but neither seemed ready to leave.

Host: The quote that had sparked the evening’s argument still lingered on the wall, written in uneven handwriting:
“When you Google me, you’ll find a lot of people don’t like Richard Dreyfuss. Because I’m cocky and I present a cocky attitude. But no one has ever disagreed with the notion I represent — that we need more civic education. So far there’s 100 percent support for that.”

Jeeny: “He’s not wrong, you know,” she said finally. “We’ve turned into a nation that knows how to scroll, not how to think.”

Jack: “Oh, come on,” he replied, smirking faintly. “You sound like a politician trying to sell nostalgia. Civic education? Nobody wants to hear about duty anymore. They want entertainment.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. That’s the problem.”

Jack: “It’s not a problem, Jeeny. It’s evolution. The world moves fast — people adapt. Civics is slow. It belongs to textbooks and quiet classrooms. The internet doesn’t have the patience for virtue.”

Jeeny: “Then maybe that’s exactly why we need it — because we’ve mistaken noise for knowledge.”

Host: Jack leaned against the chalkboard, running a hand through his hair. The faint chalk dust left white streaks on his dark sleeve, a ghost of an old argument resurfaced.

Jack: “You think people care about the Constitution when they can barely pay rent?”

Jeeny: “I think understanding the Constitution might help them understand why they can’t.”

Jack: “That’s idealistic.”

Jeeny: “It’s responsible.”

Host: A pause. The rain outside grew steadier, tapping the tall windows like persistent punctuation.

Jack: “Dreyfuss calls himself cocky for believing in civic education,” he said. “Maybe he should. It’s a romantic idea — teaching people to think about the system when the system’s already thinking for them.”

Jeeny: “No, Jack. It’s a radical idea — teaching people that they can think for themselves again. He’s not selling nostalgia. He’s selling agency.”

Jack: “Agency doesn’t trend.”

Jeeny: “Neither does integrity, but it’s still the foundation of freedom.”

Host: Her words struck through the room like a slow echo. The sound of the rain deepened. A faint lightning flash cut through the tall windows, followed by a low growl of thunder.

Jack: “You know what I think?” he said, pacing. “People don’t hate Dreyfuss for being cocky. They hate that he makes them uncomfortable — that he reminds them freedom isn’t free, and ignorance isn’t harmless.”

Jeeny: “Then maybe we need more people like him.”

Jack: “People who lecture?”

Jeeny: “People who care enough to risk being disliked.”

Host: Jack stopped pacing. He looked at her — really looked, the edge of sarcasm gone from his face.

Jack: “You believe that, don’t you? That words still matter. That education can still save us.”

Jeeny: “I believe ignorance has never saved anyone.”

Jack: “And what if no one listens?”

Jeeny: “Then you keep talking. Because silence never taught anyone, either.”

Host: The thunder rolled again, closer this time. A few lights flickered in the hallway outside, their hum breaking and returning like the pulse of persistence.

Jeeny: “You know what’s funny?” she said. “Dreyfuss is right — everyone agrees we need more civic education, but no one actually does anything about it. It’s the only kind of universal truth people nod at and then scroll past.”

Jack: “Because it’s hard. Civic education isn’t sexy. It’s slow, deliberate, patient. It forces people to see beyond themselves.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. And that’s what democracy needs — not just passion, but patience.”

Jack: “You make it sound sacred.”

Jeeny: “It is sacred. A country’s not a machine, Jack. It’s a mirror. And if no one learns to clean it, we start confusing our reflection with the truth.”

Host: Her words fell into the quiet like stones into deep water. The sound of rain softened, becoming steady, almost soothing.

Jack: “You’d make a good teacher.”

Jeeny: “I already am one,” she said. “Just not in a classroom.”

Jack: “You think anyone’s listening?”

Jeeny: “You are.”

Host: He smiled faintly — tired, honest, acknowledging defeat or understanding, it was hard to tell which.

Jack: “You know, when I was a kid, my civics teacher told me that freedom wasn’t a birthright. It was a skill. I didn’t get it then. I thought freedom meant doing what you wanted.”

Jeeny: “And now?”

Jack: “Now I think it means learning what’s worth doing — and doing it even when nobody’s watching.”

Host: Jeeny nodded, her smile small but fierce.

Jeeny: “That’s the part we’ve forgotten. We think civic education is about memorizing laws. It’s not. It’s about building conscience.”

Jack: “And courage.”

Jeeny: “Yes. The courage to be informed in a world that profits from confusion.”

Host: The clock above the blackboard ticked softly — its rhythm steady, grounding. The storm outside began to fade, leaving the faint scent of ozone and renewal in the air.

Jack: “You know,” he said, glancing at the quote still written in chalk, “maybe Dreyfuss isn’t cocky. Maybe he’s just impatient — watching a generation trade citizenship for celebrity.”

Jeeny: “Then maybe impatience is a kind of patriotism.”

Jack: “You really believe that?”

Jeeny: “I believe someone has to.”

Host: The camera drew back slowly. The two stood there, small against the vastness of the lecture hall — chalk dust in the air, the echo of rain still whispering against the glass. The quote remained on the board, illuminated faintly by the overhead light.

Host: And as the scene dimmed, Jeeny’s voice carried softly through the quiet, steady and resolute —

Jeeny: “Civic education isn’t about remembering the past, Jack. It’s about protecting the future. Even if no one thanks you for it.”

Host: The camera lingered on the chalkboard — the words of Dreyfuss still visible, stubborn, defiant — a reminder that arrogance may divide people, but ignorance will destroy them.

Host: Fade to black. The rain stops. Only the sound of a single piece of chalk rolling off the desk — falling, breaking — echoing like the fragile sound of a truth rediscovered.