Traditionally, a word that should hastily designate yours truly as “on in years,” the onset of the school year was an auspicious time. Oh, there were the proverbial “butterflies,” of course; students wondered where various classrooms were hidden and what sort of assignments and exams they might be subjected to. Meanwhile, many teachers wondered what, in God’s creation, ever induced them to go into teaching, a task whose real demands only Dante might adequately apprehend.
But let us fast forward to the present when only three things remain slow: molasses, turtles, and scheduling doctors’ appointments. And our hallowed halls of learning have been swept into this maelstrom, straining under burdens that, had one predicted, would have subjected the speaker to a mandatory psychiatric evaluation. To wit: how can any institution devoted to educating young minds convince itself classrooms can reconcile cell phone use and rapt attention? Worse, how can society tolerate an obscene glut of unchecked firearms — while some believe red flags shouldn’t be confined to beaches, soccer fields, and bull fights?
If such modern maladies weren’t quite enough — and honestly they are, another feature of our zeitgeist has gotten under my craw (whatever that is): the awful stench of governmental overreach pervading our schools. Because when my government is needlessly barring gifted exchange students, shaking down administrations in exchange for releasing federal grant money, and cracking down on critics of all sorts, well, like the venerable umpire of old, I gotta do something. Namely, we must “call ’em like we see ’em”: fascism is afoot.
R. Jay Allain
Orleans