Autism, Employment, Incompetence, Outrage, Unions, Sometimes Wisconsin and You

Every day we hear about viral videos that are viewed by thousands or millions of people. I ran across this one this morning. It has had nearly 1.5 million views. It is a little long, so if you don't have time to watch it, you can get the gist by reading the story. It is about the outrage a father feels when he sees his son with autism being mistreated (an understatement) by his teachers. If you can, I encourage you to watch this video, so you can hear the tone of voice of the teachers and aides in this public school.

I have to wonder if this dad has always had the opinion that he articulates in the video about unions and labor laws that protect incompetence. Did it take this devastating first-hand experience for him to realize it? I doubt it, since his statement that he is not interested in a lawsuit is not a typical liberal point of view. Most have dollar signs in their eyes and will sue at the drop of a hat. This father merely wants a public apology from the offending teachers and aides, and he calls for an end to the protection and perks that unions force school systems to give to undeserving teachers.

It was almost thirty years ago when I got my undergraduate degree in special education, trainable mentally handicapped (probably no longer politically correct terminology, but that was what my degree was called). I had only a couple of  practicums and a 6-week student teaching experience in a special ed classroom to prepare me for a year of actual teaching. I spent a semester each in two special ed schools in Washington, D.C., and Maryland. Indeed, nothing can prepare you for such experiences, as no two classrooms are the same. I had taught for seven years in Catholic parochial schools before the special ed gigs. But it was that last year of teaching in public schools that confirmed for me that it was time to get out of teaching. There were so many constraints on what you could and could not do as a teacher, and there was so much paperwork that I could not put up with it any longer. There was no time to even teach the basics, like the vowels: A, E, I, O, U, sometimes W and Y.* I knew when it was time to go.

The teachers and aides in this video should make the same decision. They are not fit for the job. But, sadly, they are protected by a system that prefers to exchange for tenure, pensions, and other perks for votes. Unions are contributing to the ruin of America. Public sector employment is a privilege, not a right. This from a woman who grew up blue-collar and hard-working in a small, predominantly rural town of farmers and laborers. I believe that if you are a good worker, you do not need the bully tactics of entities like SEIU, AFSCME, NEA, and other mafia-like rackets.

I would love to see New Jersey Governor Chris Christie weigh in on this situation since it happened in a school in Cherry Hill, NJ.  I suspect he would have a few choice words for these teachers and aides, even more than what he said to the teacher who confronted him in this now-famous video almost two years ago.

Speaking of governors, they do have a tough job, especially with the tough economy that we are suffering now. The entitlement mentality runs rampant among state workers, just as it does in the federal government. This is why I have nothing but disdain for those people in Wisconsin who are trying to oust Governor Scott Walker in a recall election. They have been brainwashed into trying to protect a system that rewards failure and protects perks and goodies for public sector employees who are the mouthpieces and the symbiotic parasites of the union bullies who also feed off of them. Even the Catholic nuns--the same ones who just got reprimanded by the Vatican--are getting in on the ouster action. That's what many tax-exempt organizations are all about theses days -- promoting the liberal agenda while not paying taxes for the services that the rest of us taxpayers are required to support.

I lived for one year in the cheese state, in the mid-80s. Milwaukee is a nice place, full of hard-working people who love their brats and Packers. But after what I see the people doing up there in this recall, I would not want to live in Wisconsin again. I will be visiting the  Badger State on business next Tuesday, so I will bite my tongue when it comes to offering my opinion. But you can bet I will be telepathically transmitting my own version of sanity to all with whom I come into contact!

* Did you catch the vowel  references and relationship to the title of this blog post?

Tonight was a rather nostalgic night at our house. It started with dinner as we ate, and I reminisced about growing up because of the meal we were having. In fact, it made me think of an old song that I used to like when I was in high school. Through the magic of cyberspace, I can call up the song and post it here so that you can play it as you read the rest of this blog entry. Go ahead, click and listen, and see if this song brings back any memories for you as you continue reading.

Man! That song conjures up images of my high school--literally, the outside area where we used to catch the bus to ride home. It was 1978, so I was a junior, or rising-senior when this song was popular. I was not dating or anything, so the words were not really important, other than the fact that they were talking about memories that you create with someone you care about. I just remember singing the melody and the harmony -- badly -- and not caring if it hurt anyone's ears.

I had never seen this video until just now, and I have to laugh at its simplicity. What's ironic is that the guy is singing about dancing and walking and reminiscing with his girlfriend, but the people in the video are all guys in the band. So he is with his buddies, singing about making memories and reminiscing with his girlfriend. I could not have told you who sang this song before searching for it. My Hubby, on the other hand, will know the band and probably even the names of the band members and the year it was made and how high up the chart it went. He has that kind of memory for music in our younger days. I just knew the words to the songs.

So what delectable cuisine prompted me to start reminiscing tonight? It was the classic, flavorful dish that we had for dinner: Salisbury steak covered with gravy. Yes, the kind you buy frozen like a brick bat in the little tray, covered with plastic. 

I found them for $2.99 on sale Saturday, so I bought two. They now come with six patties in the tray and a heckuva lot of gravy. I think there had to be more patties in each box during my childhood, because my mom could make one tray serve 11 kids, herself and my dad. Okay, maybe we were not all at the table at once, and Mom may have fixed two trays to serve us all. I cannot recall the details. But I do recall that each of those ground up, smashed patties of beef were mouth-wateringly delectable then, and they still were tonight as well. As kids we we would lay a slice of bread on a plate and center the rectangle of beefy goodness on top, then smother it with that rich, thick, hot brown gravy. It was heavenly! Add some mashed potatoes and canned corn, and there isn't a dish ever made on Top Chef that could touch it!!

What is amazing to me is that both of our teenage girls devoured THREE Salisbury steak patties each tonight! There was not a single piece of beef left in either tray. I fixed rice instead of mashed potatoes, and we had corn on the cob to complete the throw back to my childhood of yore... Ahhhh, it doesn't get much better than that!

Yes, oven-cooked Salisbury steak is unforgettable. It is almost as powerful in my tastebud memory as the incomparable combined taste of Coke and glazed doughnuts.

Although I never drink plain Coke anymore (and haven't for over 40 years), when I do accidentally take a sip, it always brings back the memory of pulling weeds for Kendall Gentry down in the Geneva bottoms. In the summer that was the job that we kids had to earn money. As early as age seven or eight, we would be swept into the ranks of the "workers." We got paid, of course, but we lived for that mid-morning break. That's when the liquid sugary goodness of an ice-cold can of Coke fished from the cavernous ice-filled cooler would soothe our parched throats and wash down the melt-in-your-mouth freshness of the white sugar-glazed doughnuts. If I was to go into that memory, we would here all night. My siblings will understand.

NOTE: There are so many things that could not be done now that we did back then:
-Mr. Gentry would be charged with child abuse by the food-police for serving young kids glazed doughnuts and Coke these days;
-Department of Labor child labor laws would never allow us 7 and 8-year-old kids to get up at 6:00 and be in the dew-covered soybean fields by 7:00 a.m. to work for 5 straight hours, with only one break (see aforementioned doughnut/Coke break);
-ATF(and E) would prevent children from utilizing "weapons" like the sharpened hook knives that we used to cut 7' or 8' tall Johnson grass or horseweeds;
-OSHA regulations would forbid allowing children from using the pathway between the soybean rows as a toilet and soybean leaves as TP when nature called;
-DOT would prohibit the transporting of children in the bed of a pickup truck to and from the work-site;
-SEIU would be there demanding we take a vote on unionizing and would insist that we pay union dues to ensure that our less-than-minimum wage pay would be scrubbed in favor of higher wages and fewer kids working.

And the beat goes on . . . and on.

Still, it is precious memories like these that I want to have in my head when my days on earth are coming to a close. I hope that this is how things end for me. I want to go out hearing my Hubby sing to me, "Hurry don't be late, I can hardly wait, I said to myself when we're old. We'll go dancing in the dark, walking through the park and reminiscing...."

Lastly, a couple more songs from my college days that evoke strong memories and images in my brain:
"Babe" by Styx,
"Keep on Loving You" by REO Speedwagon,
and one more, which has the last verse about reminiscing of sorts. . .
"Comfortably Numb," by Pink Floyd ("When I was a child, I caught a fleeting glimpse, out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look but it was gone, I cannot put my finger on it now, the child is grown, the dream is gone, and I have become comfortably numb.")