Sol Survivor
The members of the Maryland legislature are using their time productively. They are trying to create a cohesive policy for the use of sunscreen in schools. We also have a woman providing us with today's example of congenital idiocy:
Yes, and if they jab a pencil in their eye, it could hurt them. Ditto with glue; you gonna remove all the white glue from the kindergartens, now? Stupid cow.
If a kid rubs sunscreen in his eyes, there's a name for that kid: moron.
We didn't have an issue with sunscreen when I was in elementary school. I suppose if you had wanted to, you could have brought some--and been rightly labeled a pansy. That's because we were kids. We just wanted to get outside, roll around in the dirt, (remember dirt? It's the stuff the ground is made from), and have fun. We spent all summer running around outside--shirtless, half of the time--and I can't count the number of times I got mild sunburns. It was just part of living outside. I don't think any of us even knew what sunscreen was at the time. And I grew up in South Texas; Satan comes here during the summer to remind himself how good he has it.
I'm still here. No heinous death from the horrid Skin Cancer Monster.
My best friend during elementary school was Stevie. This kid had sensitive skin, pure white hair, a congenital heart defect that kept him out of physical education classes, and enough allergies to require a full test run once a year, as well as weekly injections given to him by his mother. You know where Stevie was when all the kids were building a ramp and jumping the ditch on our bikes, getting sunburned, cut, scratched, and dirty? Right there with us, that's where. Just as dirty, just as cut and scraped--and just as happy. That's because his parents didn't let him use his physical problems as an excuse. They just let him be a kid, and no one thought anything of it. Nowdays, his parents would probably be arrested by CPS, and Stevie put in a foster home.
As for Stevie, he graduated with a 4.0 GPA from Texas A&M, receiving a degree in aerospace engineering (solid fuel propulsion systems), and later received a Master's degree in the field. He's a senior change engineer for the United States Navy's fighter aircraft, and has more authority than most admirals. His hobbies, last I heard from him, are almost exclusively outdoor sports. And he doesn't have skin cancer.
We're raising a generation of hypochondriacs and drug-dependents in this country. Every time you turn around, another kid has some dire, life-threatening sensitivity. We had these kids when I was in school, too. But the State legislature didn't get involved, nor were draconian rules enacted every time some kid sneezed. There were two reasons for that: 1) If a child had a problem--a genuine problem, not just hypochondria-inducing parents--then the other students were made aware of it, provided that it required we be aware of it. We were trusted with a certain sense of responsibility, even at that early age. 2) If we did decide to torment the child with the "hypersensitivity," we got our little asses beaten with a large plank. Problem solved.
Neither of those two principles are extant in modern schools. The products of those schools--nominal adults, at least chronologically--are beginning to reflect that absence. Even if the comedy of the absurd which the modern public schools have become is turned hard a-port immediately, we're still going to have to deal with twenty years of hypersensitive, over-privileged, thin-skinned, soft-handed whiners, with the attention span of gnats.
On the bright side, it's great job security for anyone with a job skill more complex than burger-flipping or retail sales.
"If you had a very young kid, and they put it in their eyes, it could hurt them," said Judith Covich, Montgomery's director of health and student services.
Yes, and if they jab a pencil in their eye, it could hurt them. Ditto with glue; you gonna remove all the white glue from the kindergartens, now? Stupid cow.
If a kid rubs sunscreen in his eyes, there's a name for that kid: moron.
We didn't have an issue with sunscreen when I was in elementary school. I suppose if you had wanted to, you could have brought some--and been rightly labeled a pansy. That's because we were kids. We just wanted to get outside, roll around in the dirt, (remember dirt? It's the stuff the ground is made from), and have fun. We spent all summer running around outside--shirtless, half of the time--and I can't count the number of times I got mild sunburns. It was just part of living outside. I don't think any of us even knew what sunscreen was at the time. And I grew up in South Texas; Satan comes here during the summer to remind himself how good he has it.
I'm still here. No heinous death from the horrid Skin Cancer Monster.
My best friend during elementary school was Stevie. This kid had sensitive skin, pure white hair, a congenital heart defect that kept him out of physical education classes, and enough allergies to require a full test run once a year, as well as weekly injections given to him by his mother. You know where Stevie was when all the kids were building a ramp and jumping the ditch on our bikes, getting sunburned, cut, scratched, and dirty? Right there with us, that's where. Just as dirty, just as cut and scraped--and just as happy. That's because his parents didn't let him use his physical problems as an excuse. They just let him be a kid, and no one thought anything of it. Nowdays, his parents would probably be arrested by CPS, and Stevie put in a foster home.
As for Stevie, he graduated with a 4.0 GPA from Texas A&M, receiving a degree in aerospace engineering (solid fuel propulsion systems), and later received a Master's degree in the field. He's a senior change engineer for the United States Navy's fighter aircraft, and has more authority than most admirals. His hobbies, last I heard from him, are almost exclusively outdoor sports. And he doesn't have skin cancer.
We're raising a generation of hypochondriacs and drug-dependents in this country. Every time you turn around, another kid has some dire, life-threatening sensitivity. We had these kids when I was in school, too. But the State legislature didn't get involved, nor were draconian rules enacted every time some kid sneezed. There were two reasons for that: 1) If a child had a problem--a genuine problem, not just hypochondria-inducing parents--then the other students were made aware of it, provided that it required we be aware of it. We were trusted with a certain sense of responsibility, even at that early age. 2) If we did decide to torment the child with the "hypersensitivity," we got our little asses beaten with a large plank. Problem solved.
Neither of those two principles are extant in modern schools. The products of those schools--nominal adults, at least chronologically--are beginning to reflect that absence. Even if the comedy of the absurd which the modern public schools have become is turned hard a-port immediately, we're still going to have to deal with twenty years of hypersensitive, over-privileged, thin-skinned, soft-handed whiners, with the attention span of gnats.
On the bright side, it's great job security for anyone with a job skill more complex than burger-flipping or retail sales.
posted by Jar(egg)head at 09:31
3 Comments:
Amen to that...oops sorry, I forgot that whole church and state thing. Hope no one sues.
Like you I also ran around all summer in just shorts and with no signs of cancer from those youthful fun filled days!
However, my ass still hurts thinking about some of those same days!
"If you had a very young kid, and they put it in their eyes, it could hurt them," said Judith Covich, Montgomery's director of health and student services.
...and then they wouldn't do it again. That's called "learning." I would like to think that someone in the education system would understand this, but I don't live in Denial, CA.
Life is pain. Anyone that says differently is selling something.
-J
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