the Clipperton Suite: the corpse-room converted into curriculum
when an E.T.A. jr. whinges too loudly about some tennis-connected vicissitude or hardship or something, he’s invited to go chill for a bit in the Clipperton Suite, to maybe meditate on some of the other ways to succeed besides votaried self-transcendence and gut-sucking-in and hard daily slogging toward a distant goal you can then maybe, if you get there, live with.
Context
The named-must payoff: Schtitt keeps a key to the room where Clipperton died and uses it as a teaching aid. A kid who complains too loudly gets sent "to go chill for a bit in the Clipperton Suite," to sit where a boy who took the shortcut blew his brains out and "meditate on some of the other ways to succeed besides votaried self-transcendence and gut-sucking-in and hard daily slogging toward a distant goal you can then maybe, if you get there, live with." The institution's entire body-doctrine is compressed into that final clause: the slog isn't the price of the goal, it's what makes the goal survivable — you grind toward something you'll actually be able to live inside once you arrive.