When I was in high school I related to Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick In The Wall Part II” in which Pink and his cohorts feel all angsty about a headmaster who’s instilling in them, among other things, “thought control” and rigid discipline that would deny them pudding. Now that I have a kid who’s gone through the first semester in a new school in the farce known as California’s educational system, I long for corporal punishment.
The high school in question is rated a seven on Redfin, which is a C grade in any other world, but in this state is a participation trophy perfect. Since I’m not privileged enough to pay a med school tuition for one semester of high school or a Hollywood actress who can bribe my kid’s way into prestigious schools, I must do what I can to ensure my child’s education is as well-rounded as possible. And that’s why I am yanking her out of the school and putting her back in an independent remote learning academy where a spot on the dean’s list was procured three months in a row.
My kid started this semester in August. In the first week, she was molested by a student and got Covid. Let’s start with the first part. On day one, a kid groped her. He’s known to be a pervert and has, as we found out, molested more than 10 girls in his high school tenure. My kid was the first to report him. Thank God for Title IX, because now, the little jerk has been removed from his class. He still attends school. Still stares at her in the hallway. Wasn’t contacted by police at all. And nothing happened. My kid plucked up the courage to risk it all and overcome any potential victimhood so that the authorities could do as little as possible.
In the same week another star pupil who knew he had Covid, decided it’d be hilarious to cough on everyone he saw. Which brought Covid into our house. What it didn’t bring, however, was contact tracing. I know this because no emails were sent out. No alerts of any kind. And my kid’s best friend showed up after a week, anxiously asking what happened and if everything was all right.
Unlike presumably a lot of parents who drop their kids off at this government day care, I grill mine every day about her experience. What I learned is that when the kids do decide to show up, most of them don’t bother attending class. Some smoke weed in the bathrooms. One had sex in the bathroom a few months ago with a boyfriend who doesn’t attend that school. She’s now pregnant.
Where are the teachers, you ask? They are, to quote Roger Waters, leaving the kids alone. There’s no pretense of getting them to pay attention, learn, put their phones down or even be quiet. There’s very little if any actual instruction going on. If the kids can read, it’s not a teacher they need to thank but divine intervention. If they keep their masks on, which is a requirement in California, it’s a minor miracle.
And on that last note, when Gov. Newsom mandated vaccines for students this coming January, many of the regressive parents planned to pull their kids out of school. The poor education didn’t matter, but getting the jab too much.
The school sent us a copy of the note they sent the Governor. They was nary a mention about the kids’ education, only that the district would lose funding and might be forced to close. Excuse me for not caring.
Through some kind of Herculean effort, my kid has managed to keep her grades up throughout this ordeal. She doesn’t deserve a participation trophy; she deserves a medal of honor in the face of such bullshit.
If this is the best America has to offer its young minds, I’ll take my chances with the so-called alternative known as formal education.