Saturday, April 25, 2009
An hour on a roof with socialist usurpers
I spent some time on a roof yesterday. The roof of a London primary school, to be exact. This is not normal. So I should explain. See, this school is under threat of being demolished. I've passed by a few times and seen posters and things on the fence saying "Hands off our school!" and such. I thought it was neat that the kids wanted to save their school. They've even managed to get it listed as a historic building, which doesn't prevent the demolition but makes it more difficult. Anyway, some teachers, parents, and local residents are now camping on the roof, which is sort of like laying in front of the bulldozers, but cooler.
When I passed by the school yesterday, I went up the ladder to sign the anti-demolition petition (nice rhyme, that) and talk to some people. And, well...disappointment and disillusionment followed. I asked one woman what it was about this school that was special enough to warrant doing all this to keep it going. I was expecting to hear something to do with students. 'Cause that's what a school's about, you know. I was expecting to hear that it had a great teaching staff, or a unique method, or a great community of students, or a record of achievement, or something. That the students coming out of the school were better for having been there, and really cared about keeping their school. But of course, what she said was nothing of the sort.
Instead, she went off on a lecture about class conflict and multicultural communities and inclusivity, and compared the situation to laid-off factory workers, and basically spewed a whole lot of Marxist mumbo-jumbo that had about as much to do with children as a geriatric healthcare plan. She accused the government of tearing down the school to try and get rid of working-class and special needs students, and of planning to build a new secondary school in its place in order to line the pockets of the big businesses that sell school uniforms and IT systems. I felt like I was on Greenham Common.
The school was just a symbol for the real issues, see. We might as well have been on the roof of a church, or a hospital, or a sprocket plant. I don't even know what a sprocket IS, but there you go. Because, as always, this wasn't about the kids. It was about adults using children to fight for their own issues, not the children's. I hate these people. They call themselves parents and teachers, but I wouldn't let them near my kid if they were bound and gagged.
I wish I could be a kid again. You get to be friends with much more intelligent and morally superior people.
PS: I know it's been a long, long time since my last post, and it may be a while before my next one. Don't know why, I just haven't been in a bloggy sort of mood recently. But quick update: I left Alaska, I live in England (again), and I'm really hoping I get to vote in the election that finally ousts Labour.
When I passed by the school yesterday, I went up the ladder to sign the anti-demolition petition (nice rhyme, that) and talk to some people. And, well...disappointment and disillusionment followed. I asked one woman what it was about this school that was special enough to warrant doing all this to keep it going. I was expecting to hear something to do with students. 'Cause that's what a school's about, you know. I was expecting to hear that it had a great teaching staff, or a unique method, or a great community of students, or a record of achievement, or something. That the students coming out of the school were better for having been there, and really cared about keeping their school. But of course, what she said was nothing of the sort.
Instead, she went off on a lecture about class conflict and multicultural communities and inclusivity, and compared the situation to laid-off factory workers, and basically spewed a whole lot of Marxist mumbo-jumbo that had about as much to do with children as a geriatric healthcare plan. She accused the government of tearing down the school to try and get rid of working-class and special needs students, and of planning to build a new secondary school in its place in order to line the pockets of the big businesses that sell school uniforms and IT systems. I felt like I was on Greenham Common.
The school was just a symbol for the real issues, see. We might as well have been on the roof of a church, or a hospital, or a sprocket plant. I don't even know what a sprocket IS, but there you go. Because, as always, this wasn't about the kids. It was about adults using children to fight for their own issues, not the children's. I hate these people. They call themselves parents and teachers, but I wouldn't let them near my kid if they were bound and gagged.
I wish I could be a kid again. You get to be friends with much more intelligent and morally superior people.
PS: I know it's been a long, long time since my last post, and it may be a while before my next one. Don't know why, I just haven't been in a bloggy sort of mood recently. But quick update: I left Alaska, I live in England (again), and I'm really hoping I get to vote in the election that finally ousts Labour.
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