Morning Thoughts: February 24, 2018

Haven’t taught at my second Alma Mater in over a year. A PhD. Teaches the course now. That’s probably a good idea. I miss it though. Being around young minds offers much satisfaction, both from the gaining of wisdom and the delight of torture.

I taught Introduction To Public Administration, and this would be an interesting time to participate. There’s an air of insanity about the topic that has even caught the attention of young folks.

Quite frankly, they showed limited interest in Marbury v. Madison, a case settled 215 years ago today by a Supreme Court led by Chief Justice John Marshall, (no relation, as far as we know, to Thurgood). It established judicial review, or the principle that the Judicial Branch decides the constitutionality of a law passed by the Legislative Branch or greatly valued by the Executive Branch. It has saved the country from shame on occasion, (see Brown v. Board of Education). Despite assertions in the past, these days it shows definite signs of constituting a suicide pact. (See Citizens United).

Anyway. I woke up this morning thinking of a great assignment. Background: In a terrifically bizarre mood, even at a particularly bizarre moment in our nation’s history, by perhaps the most bizarre person to ever hold the office of President of the United States of America, our president actually proposed effecting an end to violence in our schools by arming teachers so they could be prepared to shoot terrorists before they could act. Further, we would pay said teachers a bonus for the extra service to the country.

Don’t go to Snopes. He really said that. No, not The Onion either. See the Washington Post. After all, it did save us from Richard Nixon and Tom Hanks played its editor in a recent movie. It deserves our trust for that, if nothing more.

Unsubstantiated at this point are reports that "gun bonuses" will be based on body counts, mirroring our highly successful strategy in Vietnam.  

Anyway, wouldn’t it be a neat assignment to have the kids write papers summarizing the public administration aspects of such a proposal?

One would hope they would cover the need to rewrite thousands of union contracts, probably resulting in extended and heated negotiations with, oh, say 99.67 percent of them. Now that would be fun to watch. If there is anything some unions know about, it’s guns.

One would hope for each paper to discuss budgeting aspects of the deal. Astute students would realize that, not only would the feds not allocate any money, the present administration would likely cut school funding more than it has already proposed, said cuts to be based on the avowed probability of reduced costs of emergency services and law enforcement participation once the teachers assumed responsibility. Teachers probably form the most capable group of individuals in our country. It’s best not to provoke them

Some misguided students might opt for including any costs in the Department of Defense budget. Trouble with that is … well there are many troubles with it, the main being that the DOD doesn’t favor sharing its bounty with anyone, save defense contractors. It doesn’t even include veteran’s care in its budgeting frolics.

I’m sure that even college students would recognize major problems with the Americans With Disabilities Act. There would be legal challenges flying from both directions: “Don’t tell me I must participate,” and “Don’t tell me I can’t participate.”

Oh, what about African-American teachers? Hell, they get shot down by both actual and self-proclaimed protectors of citizens, even when they don’t have guns in their hands. Would there be waivers? That should cause some heavy thinking, for we teach them that the granting of waivers is a slippery path that could lead to, oh, say, unqualified people receiving security clearances.

I’ve taught them that a degree in public administration offers job opportunities in the field of consulting work. Some students from conservative families would, no doubt, mention opportunities in writing performance standards or as serving as product representatives for arms manufacturers. It would stand as a big disappointment when I had to tell them that those jobs were probably filled before the proposal was made public. Blood is thicker than water, they say, as long as it’s not someone else’s blood.

Other than ADA issues, I would caution students to tread lightly on the legal implications. First, they aren’t attorneys. Second, a supreme court with Clarence Thomas et al in the majority cannot be analyzed by any normal academic standards.

It would be fun to think about it some more, if the whole affair wasn’t so cosmically terrifying.

President Trump explains that
not all teachers must be armed.

Growing Up Southern: August 19, 2017

Two women in my life represent the main reasons I hate to see powerful forces setting about to destroy our public school systems.

One was named Mildred Trulock. She taught me English and other wonderful things in the 7^th grade. She died early from cancer at age 59.

The other was named Doris Morgan. She taught me English in the 11^th grade and journalism in the 12^th. She lived into old age before succumbing to Alzheimer’s.

Both put up with my foolishness. Somewhere along the line they instilled in me a need to read and learn. I’m sure they found me far from a good student, but they minimized my nonsense, often using a word that I have rarely, if ever, heard anyone other than a teacher use: “provoke,” as in, “don’t provoke me further.”

And I’m sure I did. For some reason, Mrs. Trulock ignored it and turned me toward reading Charles Dickens. When she caught me reading someone else, say Hemingway, she would observe, “Well there are some elements of his writing that you’re not emotionally prepared for yet, but I suppose it’s okay.”

Mrs. Morgan set a high standard, expecting my fellow students and me to read and discuss such classics as Moby Dick and Heart of Darkness. Later, she taught me not to use sarcasm in serious reporting. She singlehandedly got Overton Anderson and me into the National Honor Society. I can imagine that, at least on my part, that, took some high-level filibustering.

I never told Mrs. Trulock how much she mattered in my life, but I expect she knew. I’m proud to say that, before Mrs. Morgan took sick, I began writing short stories. Sometime in the early 1990s, I packed up several and mailed them to her with a note saying her efforts hadn’t gone completely in vain.

Gosh almighty! A week later, she tracked me down by phone and complimented the daylights out of me. That meant more to me than a Pulitzer might have. Well, almost.

She had even passed the stories around to the other women in the retirement home with all the pride of a mother whose son had just made the honor role for the first time.

Of all things, she laughed and said, “I had to explain to some of them what a ‘stump-broke cow’ is.” See, she grew up on a ranch in Montana and was quite the cowgirl when she was young. She knew things some of her peers didn’t, probably some things I’ve never known.

I say this all in support of public school teachers. I have friends and acquaintances who received superb educations at private or religious schools, but I only have the experience of public ones. I think they, and their teachers, are national treasures. I only wish that the billionaires trying to privatize them would redirect their vast fortunes toward bolstering our existing schools instead.

I know those were different times during which these wonderful women touched my lives. School populations were more homogenous. Life was slower. A good part of education was devoted to building character as opposed to certifying kids for jobs or post-secondary endeavors. Children didn’t have to make the terrible choices they must make today, including whether to join a gang or try drugs. I’ll be the first to admit, though, that sneaking away down to the ravine to smoke a Camel was a perennial temptation.

We took tests in those days to see if we were learning anything, not to determine our future roles in life. A Mildred Trulock or Doris Morgan would have time to apply a little molding to young minds. Life was calmer. Students provoked their teachers back in the day. They didn’t beat or stab them.

Were times that much better? I don’t know. Old-age gilds and glitterizes the past. Times certainly weren’t better for my African-American brothers and sisters. They weren’t allowed to attend school with us.

All I know is that attending a public school did me no personal harm. Hell, that’s where I met Penny Perdue, who, I’m proud to say, still calls me her friend. As the ladies Trulock and Morgan would want me to say, “Be still my beating heart.”

Just remembering.