America’s Most Educated: “We know you only want what’s best for your kids. And you can’t have it.”

There is a fate in America that
is even worse than education:


Photo by: David Goehring

A Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Willie story

October 19, 1996

Little Tommy Carruthers wasn’t looking for trouble. In fact he was looking for a way out – and fast. He was being kissed by girls, and it was making him cry. Little Tina Galvin and her best friend, Little Kelly Martin, were playing a game they call “Kissy Girl.” In “Kissy Girl,” the little girls pick out a little boy. Then they chase him around the playground. Until they catch him. And kiss him. Little Tommy didn’t just get kissed, though. He got in trouble. And that’s how he came to the attention of… America’s Most Educated.

Little Tommy thought he was running from shame. He thought he was running from ignominy. In truth, he thought he was running from the wet, sloppy kisses of a pair of shrieking little girls. He didn’t know he was running into a life of crime.

For Little Tommy was guilty of sexual harassment. How could that be, you might ask, when the little girls were forcing their attentions on him? It’s because sexual victims are necessarily always female. And sexual predators are necessarily always male.

And, as little Tommy discovered, there is a fate in America that is even worse than education:


Little Tommy was assigned to a gender sensitivity class. He will be trained to control his predatory impulses. To contain his savage, six-year-old libido. He will be compelled to run a gauntlet of gender sensitivity trainers. They will poke and pinch and slap and grope at him. In that way he will develop empathy for the untold millions of females who have been poked and pinched and slapped and groped against their will. And he will be put on Ritalin. For obvious reasons.

But Little Tommy’s story pales by comparison to the strange odyssey of Pamela Finch. One day she was a bright, attractive eighth grader. An honor student. Co-editor of the school newspaper. The next day she was a notorious druggie.

Pamela thought she had a right to pursue relief from her adolescent menstrual cramps. She thought there was no harm in prevailing upon a friend to dose her with an over-the-counter nostrum. She thought her body was her own.

She thought wrong. And she got a little dose in humility from… American’s Most Educated.

Pamela was stripped of her honors and her titles. She was stripped of her reputation and her dignity. Pamela is a drug abuser and she was stripped of her good name. Now instead of working on the school paper, she spends her afternoons in drug rehabilitation. She and her fellow addicts probe the depths of their hellish lives to discover why they can’t adjust to a drug-free reality. And of course, Pamela was put on Ritalin. For obvious reasons.

And if Pamela’s descent into drug-crazed frenzy seems bizarre, consider the case of Howie Taylor. Howie thought he was a wit. He was half right. He wanted to be the class clown. Now he’s just a clown. He thought if he pulled a dumb stunt, he could count on a few laughs. But he didn’t count on… America’s Most Educated.

When Howie showed up at school with an Alka Seltzer in his pocket, he didn’t know he’d end the day at the police station. When he put that Alka Seltzer in his mouth, he didn’t know he was marking himself everlastingly as a drug abuser. When he began to foam at the mouth uncontrollably, he thought it was just a joke.

He didn’t know he was going to cause persistent nightmares for many of his classmates. He didn’t know he was going to induce his teacher to file for Workman’s Compensation and an indefinite leave of absence. With pay. He didn’t know he was going to incite the ire of the Anti-Defamation League of the Epilepsy Society. He didn’t know because he lacks the wisdom of… America’s Most Educated.

Luckily, Howie found a way to avoid re-education. Instead, he has become a member of a twelve-steps group called Boneheads Anonymous. Every afternoon, Howie is required to attend a BA meeting. He is obliged to stand up and say, for all to hear, “My name is Howie Taylor and I’m a bonehead.” And he was put on Ritalin. For obvious reasons.

All across this great land of ours, America’s Most Educated are working to assure that you understand the vital purpose of tax-funded public education.

You may have thought that public education exists to teach children the value of the life of the mind. To plant within them a love for learning and to expose them to the greatness and glory that is the human mind. That is incorrect.

Or you may have thought that the purpose of public education is to prepare children for the world of work. To train them in skills and vocations so that they can provide the next harvest of tax funds, to pay for the next crop of school children. That is also incorrect.

Perhaps you thought that tax-funded education exists to exalt and glorify the tax collectors. To inculcate patriotism. To indoctrinate obedience. To inspire awe. To incite fear. That, too, is incorrect.

For the purpose of modern, professional, tax-funded public education is simply this: To mock and ridicule itself until every last shred and vestige of respect it may once have earned is utterly destroyed. Vanquished. Eradicated.

We stopped teaching your children to read. And you gave us more funding. We stopped teaching your children to add and subtract. And you felt sorry for us. We stopped teaching your children any product of human inquiry – practical, whimsical or sublime. And you raised our salaries. We teach your children nothing but cant, dogma and the absurd. And you ask how you can help.

We know you think we can’t possibly mean the idiotic things we say. We can and we do. We know you think this or that tinkering reform will “fix” public education. None of them will. We know you think that, at least, you can escape us by sending your children to private schools. You cannot. We control the legislatures that permit your flimsy little private redoubts to exist. We know you only want what’s best for your children. And you can’t have it.

And, clearly, you are unqualified to number yourself among… America’s Most Educated.

But our work is not finished. For on the one hand, there remains a substantial number of people who insist on affecting to respect our every inane pronouncement. And on the other… the unassimilated.

You know who they are. Sex offenders. Drug abusers. Free-thinkers of every counterfeit denomination. Far worse than uninformed adulation is informed contempt. But never fear, for there is a fate in America that is far worse than education:


Sensitivity training. Diversity training. Therapy. Counseling. And rehabilitation. The plan of action is very clear to… America’s Most Educated.

And Ritalin, of course. For obvious reasons.

This entry was posted in Poetry and fiction, Willie stories. Bookmark the permalink.