Keep Your Eye on the Ball: Impeachment Is Screening the Long Game

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I prepared the following letter to send to my two state senators, David Perdue and Johnny Isakson:

Dear Senator,

Below is a link to an article that Marina Medvin posted on the Townhall.com site a few days ago.  Her subject is the “Racial Literacy Curriculum”: an aggressive, expanding initiative of certain totalitarian spearhead organizations among us—also known as Boards of Education—to confuse K-8 children, early and often, about their common humanity and to elevate race to the apex of the values-pyramid.  I knew that the state of California was a magnet for agents of social and moral chaos. The piece says that Virginia and North Carolina, of all places, have now been added to the map of territory (along with New York, New Jersey, Rhode Island, and Illinois) conquered by these race-baiting “professionals” who exploit our young children. The endgame (and this is Ms. Medvin’s conclusion as well as mine) is to dissolve bonds between neighbors, leave a new generation utterly demoralized, and render centralized government bureaucracy the only Big Brother and the one Dear Friend in their lives.  In a spiritual context, this objective could be called Satanic.

I have been reading for years through Peter Helmes’ Die Deutsche Konservativen website about the inroads that the pederasty-promoting “Green Party” has made in German public education.  I knew, as well, that the EU is always the testing ground (being a much easier, more “loosened up” target) for these initiatives in subversion.  And as I say, it never comes as no shock to see California’s bureaucratic elite collaborating in the utter destruction of traditional values and social coherence.

But Virginia….  My wife responded that parents should pull their children out of public schools and home-educate them.  She, like others in the general public who haven’t spent my decades working in the education racket, doesn’t realize how much up-front cost, investment of time, and harassing red tape is involved in that strategy.  Also like most voters, she believes that the states in question must learn from their own errors and do a better job at the ballot box next time.

One problem is precisely that most of the decisions behind such covert social and moral overhaul are not directly reviewed by the public, though they may be made by elected officials.  (This line from stateuniversity.com leapt off the screen at me: “Elected school board members have greater independence and freedom to act in the best interests of the school system than do appointed board members.” The Orwellian “act in the best interests” oozes the smug admission that, once assured a term of several years, these self-willed marauders do what they damn well please.) Sweeping curricular changes that may overthrow the community’s moral and spiritual life are never brought before the public and submitted to an up-or-down vote.  It is felt within the profession, I’m sure, that ordinary citizens are far too dull to pass a competent judgment on what their children need in the classroom.

As for protesting at PTA meetings or refusing to have one’s child participate in some immoral “assignment” or other, I believe there have been cases in Canada where parents have lost custody of their children for such resistance… and maybe, if memory serves, a few similar instances on the West Coast.

The other major flaw in the view that we must patiently allow parents (and their children) to suffer until a new round of elections arrives is that what happens in California doesn’t stay in California.  That’s why Virginia has now fallen… and perhaps Georgia will be next.  Yet even if the decay fails to spread this way (and we’ve lately seen how close Soros money came to hijacking our governorship), it nevertheless poisons national elections of the future whose consequences impact us all.  If enough children reach the age of eighteen in Virginia, Pennsylvania, and Michigan who question their gender, are suspicious of their parents, have no prospect of a stable relationship in the future, and understand the history of our republic essentially as “Auschwitz for Indians”, then your and my grandchildren are sure to live (or die) in a Union of American Socialist Republics.  And this, once again, is the endgame of all classroom subversion.

I’m not a lawyer.  I do know that the Constitution makes no explicit provision whatever for public education, though I also know that the institution sprang up very early among individual states.  My question to you is this: is there no way to introduce an amendment to the Constitution (for instance) that would require public approval of every school district’s general curriculum through formal plebiscite?  Could one not argue, in fact, that parents are being deprived of the liberty to instill values into their children without due process under the present quasi-Soviet system?

I know we’re all much more alarmed right now about having the 2016 presidential election airbrushed from history by unprincipled saboteurs in suits and bureaucratic kinglets than we are about, say, sex education in Kindergarten or fire-and-brimstone preaching against “white privilege” in second grade.  But we shouldn’t be.  (For that matter, I think impeachment was about getting our eye off the “subversion” ball, all along.)  If, in ten or fifteen years, the electorate is awash in young voters who look nowhere but to the State for guidance—and then to the ever-improvising progressive state, not to a constitutional republic—then it really doesn’t matter if Donald Trump stays in office until 2024, or if he builds a wall, or if he stares down Xi Jinping.  The Chinese, indeed, are very skilled at the long game.  If we lose control of our classrooms, we’ll wish we were the Soviet Union—but we’re much more likely to be PRC West.

I don’t want my grandchildren living in that hellhole.

Big Brother’s Tentacles Begin in Paperwork and End in WiFi

I was shocked recently to discover that my state university campus (from whose hallowed halls of ivy I am retiring) has a policy against destroying any and all student papers of whatever age.  This is a bit insane.  Maybe it strikes me as more so because I’ve always required that my students do lots of writing.  If everyone in my department levied similar demands, a small room or large closet would be filled up with papers by the fifth year, I’m guessing.  The result would be more than a waste of precious space: it would constitute a fire hazard, and even a health hazard.  (Roaches love old papers; and while they don’t spread the bubonic plague, they’re dirty little critters, and plenty of students haul their Starbucks purchases into our classrooms.)

I should clarify that I actually give most of my papers back—with written comments, representing the most exhaustive part of the job.  I would so part with those papers, at least, before our curriculum started to shrink and I found myself teaching almost nothing but composition.  At about that point, the paperwork started viciously boomeranging back on me.  The freshman composition instructors (whose director can’t abide the word “freshman” and insists on “beginning student”) were suddenly commanded to round up all the semester’s essays in portfolios which a select few would sample and brood over in order to generate reports satisfying accreditation boards, state officers, etc., etc.  The “portfolio years” numbered about three or four, as I recall, before they were declared null and void and we were newly commanded to shift everything to an online campground.  I resisted, because I knew that I had just one more year left.  Now I’m almost sorry that I held out.

For this imbecilic decree from the bureaucrats of higher echelons (possibly, again, the state capital) to create and preserve vast document cemeteries has suggested to me why our campus rolled out its “go paperless” initiative: mere survival.  I’d assumed that the shift of all assignments to the digital was a marketing tactic, meant to titillate the public with “cutting-edge technology”—or else a marginally legal political payback, engineered to nudge business in the direction of certain software and hardware providers.  It clearly wasn’t done out of any genuine consideration for students, many of whom do not like entrusting their arduous labor to the vagaries of e-space; nor did it take into account the much higher probability of deliberate thought and careful proofreading that accompanies the preparation of hard copy.  But as a means of not drowning us all in dusty, moth-eaten cardboard boxes, the digital crusade was likely a pretty smart move.  I just don’t know why we have to sacrifice teaching efficacy on the whim of some idiot board of mandarins.

Or perhaps I do.  It almost has to be some sort of prophylactic move against lawsuits, doesn’t it?  What kind of lawsuit?  Oh, I don’t know… a student’s claim that his papers were never graded because of his green Martian skin—something in that genre.  If there’s a chance in a million of needing your ordinary trash as an exhibit in a court of law, then you will not be allowed to empty the trash can.  Our legislators are all lawyers themselves these days, so they all think the same way.  They’re all scared stiff of frivolous legal wrangles because they know only too well how successful frivolity can be before a sleeping judge or a cerebrally challenged jury.  They’ve played the game themselves enough times—and won at it—to know that, for instance (and I’m not kidding), no horseshoe arrangement of tables can be permitted in a classroom lest a fire occur and some unhappy person prove too clumsy or stupid to find the way to the exit.

I could go on teaching for years: there’s nothing wrong with my health, thank God.  But in doing so, I would probably shorten my life as my blood pressure rose and my dismal sense of the futility overhanging every corridor of Western civilization grew darker.  We increasingly resemble the old Soviet Union, dead of arterial sclerosis as its mammoth bureaucracy eradicated flexible elements from every element of society.  The things we do make no sense except as answers to concerns entirely extrinsic to quality of job and initial purpose.  We’re designing a plane that won’t fly because the mechanics’ union demands wings 200 yards long to justify its wages and every interior seat requires wheelchair access.

Finally, I’ll also admit that I worry about the ramifications of these permanent document reserves.  Is there not a Mueller in every department now who will potentially nab all of us sooner or later for saying, “Man up!” or, “God help me!”?  Might I be tried five years from now for sexual harassment because of scrawling on a paper five years ago, “You’re a beautiful and talented young woman, and you should write with greater confidence”?  Where does it end?  Only this morning, after one of the last email log-ins I shall ever trudge through, an announcement reached me of a seminar in “microaggressions”—how to spot them in oneself and how to purge them from one’s speech.  Could the shift of everything to the digital, in fact, be intended to create a readily searchable database for incidental infractions of Groupthink?

Call me paranoid, if you like.  I’m retired now—I don’t give a damn.