Thwarting them at the moat

On July 13 social media shared the news that a notorious speaker agitator for “parental rights” was going to be present and available for comment at a local watering hole in my town the next day. Later that day social media indicated that his appearance had been cancelled and he would instead be appearing at some less well-known watering hole in another town. 

Good. We kept the barbarian on the other side of our moat. That’s a win. 

The “parental rights” movement is so problematic right now. I can only use the quote marks when referring to it. The movement has chosen that name because it instantly vilifies anyone who is against the movement. What? You’re against parents having rights? No, I’m certainly not against parents having rights. I’m a parent. If I think one of my children is being wronged by the school, I want the school to be answerable. 

But that’s not what the movement is. The “parental rights” movement we see now began as a protest over vaccine and mask policies. However, once those issues became moot it moved on to other targets. Now the fight is over what books are in libraries. Or over how educators are indoctrinating their children. Or how schools make their kids feel bad. 

Make no mistake, the movement is a wrecking ball. It’s a destructive force seeking to shatter the public education establishment. It's led by individuals who look at educating youth as a zero-sum game. In other words: your child only wins if my child loses. Such movements have existed before. They’ll exist again. In some ways, they don’t go away. 

I’ve invested my life in public education. It was my formal learning in grades K through 12. I attended a private college but then have committed 25 years (and counting) of my career to it. It’s important that I believe in what I do and that I believe in what I’m part of. 

Public education has its warts. That’s why it’s important that I believe in it, because if I were to focus simply on what’s wrong with it then I would leave it. There are certainly inefficiencies in the model. And it’s a model that can leave some students feeling like a number. It serves some communities better than it does others. And there’s an orthodoxy it will teach. 

I give a lot of thought to that orthodoxy as a Social Studies teacher. We live in a great (not to be confused with perfect) country. History, in particular America’s history, is worth knowing. Democracy is good. Participation in the political and economics system is good. Starting the day with a pledge to the flag is good. Institutions and political figures deserve some degree of respect. 

Many on the far left will take issue with that orthodoxy. Currently, many on the right are saying that my colleagues and I aren’t doing good enough of a job teaching it. Welcome to that spot between the rock and the hard place. 

My thirteen years as a student in public education wasn’t perfect. There are uncomfortable and awkward moments when one systematizes a common space for youth and adolescents. Peer pressure and bullying are real. Not all of my teachers were excellent. I might not have grown to my full potential as a student. That being said, I was very ready for college. 

And that matters. It also matters that I formed an identity, learning that I love music and history in my time at Owen J. Roberts. Learning that I love being a Wildcat for as hokey as that sounds. I certainly learned to read and write. And I left school rather well-read. I grew in ways I wouldn’t have grown had it been left up to just my parents or the private school they could have afforded. 

And in my quarter century I’ve seen the power of an institution that welcomes all children. The disabled. Those with learning disabilities. Those who don’t speak English very well. Those whose parents came from another land for a chance to obtain a golden ticket to prosperous adulthood: an American college education. 

A particular change I’ve noticed over my career is the increasing number of children who are classified as being in special education but who are mainstreamed. In fact, I taught more than a dozen children this past year with diagnosed conditions requiring an IEP or 504 agreement . . . And my schedule was entirely AP Economics courses. I’ve learned how to better meet these kids’ abilities, and I’ve seen them effortlessly work alongside their peers. 

And my town values that. It’s why we keep that barbarian on the other side of the moat. It may have been just for a day. But it was a victory nonetheless.