So here we go again: another flap about free speech on college campuses, this time at Emory. Good, flaps are healthy. The best of them are corrective. Let's lambaste students for wanting their sidewalks sanitized of just whatever makes them uncomfortable. And let's mercilessly lampoon administrators like Wagner and teachers like Melissa Click (another story) who have made a fetish of tolerance.
But let's also talk about causes too. Specifically let's ask, how are we raising our young to make them need what they seem so desperately to need? "Safe spaces." Tender, institutionalized protection from "micro-aggressions." Courses in which nothing is asked of them, except to agree?
Here's a thought: These students lack a sense of autonomy. A sense of agency. The conviction that they have some control of their lives, and are responsible for exercising it.
And why might this be?
Because we their elders have failed them. Because we made their playgrounds riskless and their toys germ-free. Because as they grew, we choreographed their every routine, and never let them arrange their lives for themselves. Because we never equipped them with real life skills: how to cook, balance their bank accounts, fold their clothes with competence, or clean the damn toilet.
So, to speak very generally, and for purposes of diagnosis: Our young can do gymnastics routines. They can fill in all the bubbles on the standardized tests. They can talk about what they feel. They are decent, kind, compassionate, people, who unfortunately do not really believe in themselves.
Which in turn is why, when a word they don't like is written on the sidewalk, they call on Daddy administrator President Wagner to clean it up. Please Daddy, take Trump away. Don't make us do it. It's also why, by the way, Daddy responds the way he does:
What a good daddy we have here: sensitive, kind, eager to listen, willing to bend! Good job, Daddy President Wagner.
And why might this be?
Because we their elders have failed them. Because we made their playgrounds riskless and their toys germ-free. Because as they grew, we choreographed their every routine, and never let them arrange their lives for themselves. Because we never equipped them with real life skills: how to cook, balance their bank accounts, fold their clothes with competence, or clean the damn toilet.
So, to speak very generally, and for purposes of diagnosis: Our young can do gymnastics routines. They can fill in all the bubbles on the standardized tests. They can talk about what they feel. They are decent, kind, compassionate, people, who unfortunately do not really believe in themselves.
Which in turn is why, when a word they don't like is written on the sidewalk, they call on Daddy administrator President Wagner to clean it up. Please Daddy, take Trump away. Don't make us do it. It's also why, by the way, Daddy responds the way he does:
During our conversation, they voiced their genuine concern and pain in the face of this perceived intimidation etc...
What a good daddy we have here: sensitive, kind, eager to listen, willing to bend! Good job, Daddy President Wagner.
My wife, who happens to be a university professor, comes home every day with the anecdotes: the students who, before signing up for every course, call their parents first for approval. The student who might like to go to China for a semester, but can't, because her parents are just too uncomfortable with even the passing thought of separation. The mother who comes to campus and does her daughter's laundry. The father who calls his son to wake him up for class in the morning.
Yes I know it's emery, not Emory (punning is a sic-ness of mine). But emery board is a pretty decent symbol for what we've got here. Wanting everything to be beautiful and good about our children's lives, we've smoothed the snags from their existence, over and over again. Unfortunately, at some point horror of horrors it turns out life's not just an appointment with the manicurist. No, sometimes it really fucking hurts. Or it's rude. Or it says nasty, intolerant things. Sometimes it even sounds like a booted foot on the march. Trump. Trump. Trump. Trump.
Egad.
How about education being about building a house of autonomy? How about giving our youth something like hammers and saws to build it? How about butting the hell out?
HB
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