After reading I Am Malala (see post below) I decided I want to write some posts on education. Mostly about how kids all over the world struggle for, and put their lives on the line for the opportunity to get an education. Realizing this is a gross generalization, I find it hard to compare Malala's desire to go to school against all odds, Syrian refugee children who have no schools, and girls in Africa who often drop out of school when they begin menstruating because of all the taboos, with the stories Sweetie tells me of the children in the schools he visits who are so emotionally damaged that getting an education is pretty low on their priority list.
When I was in school, being sent to the Principal's office was about the worst thing that could happen to a kid. Memories of the paddle on the dean's desk in Jr. high still gives me shivers. Today, schools have locked rooms where children go for "time out," which really means where they can go to scream, bang their heads on the walls, cuss*, and cry until they've calmed down. There is a window in the door where the interventionist can see into the room to make sure the child doesn't hurt himself. I learned today something called EBD - Emotional behavioral disorder. I think it's a catch all phrase for behavior that used to send kids to the Principal's office. Teachers are expected to teach children with a variety of emotional and physical "disorders" in overcrowded classrooms. Frankly I don't see how there can be any teaching or learning going on in what I might call a war zone. Malala would tell me, I'm sure, that I haven't seen a war zone and don't know what I'm talking about. And she'd be right. I wonder, how do kids in countries at war, overcome their EBD's?
So that's my plan, to write some posts about education.
Trouble is, I feel like crap. I went to the doctor today (for the 3rd time since Thanksgiving) and he said whatever is making me feel so weary could be a) residual bug from previous illness or b) walking pneumonia or c) bad luck. Seriously, bad luck? I paid the guy 100+ dollars to tell me I have had the bad luck to keep catching a virus and give me a B12 shot. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to have pneumonia or something else wrong, and I don't like taking antibiotics, but I do kind of expect that a doctor can provide some kind of relief other than a prescription for a 4 leaf clover.
Alas, instead of researching, I think I'll be napping. In the mean time, if you're looking for some kind of inspiration, I encourage you to pick up a copy of I Am Malala.
* By cuss I don't mean throwing around a few shits or damns. I'm talking several variations of the F-word. I'm dating myself here, but when I was 10 years old, I did not know the F-word or any of its cousins.