| Author: | R. Richard | ISBN: | 9781370456628 |
| Publisher: | R. Richard | Publication: | September 27, 2017 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition | Language: | English |
| Author: | R. Richard |
| ISBN: | 9781370456628 |
| Publisher: | R. Richard |
| Publication: | September 27, 2017 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition |
| Language: | English |
You wonder why your expensive educational system isn’t working? Is that what you were wondering, Bunky? Your minions hired the best in educational talent plus consultants and such. The experts that were hired had PhDs from prestigious schools and/or other impressive credentials. They also had a lot of answers, none of which worked as far as producing students who could really do a job.
I know why your educational system isn’t working. I know because of The Pencil Sharpener Man (TPSM).
I was attending a high school. We had the best by damn English department in the whole world (well, anyhow that's what the high school English Department people told us.) As English students we studied poetry and literature. I don’t mean we just read poetry and literature, I mean we delved deep into the artistry of the written word. We understood such eldritch and recondite concepts as ‘purple passages’ and ‘hidden meanings.’ Hey babes, we were hip!
Four old biddies ran the English department. Now, back in those days and that place, a woman couldn't become a high school principal or even head of the English department. I mean, they just weren’t qualified; because they were women. I know, you think: “That’s against the law!” It wasn’t back in those days, at least not any law that was enforced.
Well, the fab four may not have been able to advance officially, but they had all the say in the running of the English department. The figurehead male who was the official head of the English department got his marching orders from the fab four and he had better listen. Attempts at petty rebellion were dealt with swiftly and savagely. Figurehead males came for a year, got their ticket punched, and then moved on to saner pastures.
Hatchet Face, The Blimp, The Witch and Dumbo were legends in their own minds. (Dumbo wasn’t the actual nickname of the fourth biddy, but this is a family publication.) The fab four built a fantasy empire in an intellectual wasteland. Fairy spires stretched to the heavens. The fantasy structure was well beyond Camelot! (However, remember, Camelot was purely fantasy as well.)
One day, TPSM appeared. I don’t know that he actually rode in on a horse, but he was definitely a man on horseback. TPSM has actually been invited to the school in the hopes that his organization would provide the local high school English department with more funding. (The biddies didn't care about the students ever earning a dime. However, more funding for the English department was always a critical need.
TPSM strode into the classroom where I was being educated and pointed dramatically at a familiar object, found in each classroom of the school.
“Write me a theme on the procedure for operating a pencil sharpener,” he said.
And there was fear and trembling amongst the minions in the room. The shocked students eventually stammered, “You mean actually write about something real?” In all fairness, the idea of writing about something that existed in cold, hard fact was beyond the experience of almost all of the students.
You wonder why your expensive educational system isn’t working? Is that what you were wondering, Bunky? Your minions hired the best in educational talent plus consultants and such. The experts that were hired had PhDs from prestigious schools and/or other impressive credentials. They also had a lot of answers, none of which worked as far as producing students who could really do a job.
I know why your educational system isn’t working. I know because of The Pencil Sharpener Man (TPSM).
I was attending a high school. We had the best by damn English department in the whole world (well, anyhow that's what the high school English Department people told us.) As English students we studied poetry and literature. I don’t mean we just read poetry and literature, I mean we delved deep into the artistry of the written word. We understood such eldritch and recondite concepts as ‘purple passages’ and ‘hidden meanings.’ Hey babes, we were hip!
Four old biddies ran the English department. Now, back in those days and that place, a woman couldn't become a high school principal or even head of the English department. I mean, they just weren’t qualified; because they were women. I know, you think: “That’s against the law!” It wasn’t back in those days, at least not any law that was enforced.
Well, the fab four may not have been able to advance officially, but they had all the say in the running of the English department. The figurehead male who was the official head of the English department got his marching orders from the fab four and he had better listen. Attempts at petty rebellion were dealt with swiftly and savagely. Figurehead males came for a year, got their ticket punched, and then moved on to saner pastures.
Hatchet Face, The Blimp, The Witch and Dumbo were legends in their own minds. (Dumbo wasn’t the actual nickname of the fourth biddy, but this is a family publication.) The fab four built a fantasy empire in an intellectual wasteland. Fairy spires stretched to the heavens. The fantasy structure was well beyond Camelot! (However, remember, Camelot was purely fantasy as well.)
One day, TPSM appeared. I don’t know that he actually rode in on a horse, but he was definitely a man on horseback. TPSM has actually been invited to the school in the hopes that his organization would provide the local high school English department with more funding. (The biddies didn't care about the students ever earning a dime. However, more funding for the English department was always a critical need.
TPSM strode into the classroom where I was being educated and pointed dramatically at a familiar object, found in each classroom of the school.
“Write me a theme on the procedure for operating a pencil sharpener,” he said.
And there was fear and trembling amongst the minions in the room. The shocked students eventually stammered, “You mean actually write about something real?” In all fairness, the idea of writing about something that existed in cold, hard fact was beyond the experience of almost all of the students.
