The Shrieker

Only this very weekend I heard this tale of one childs experience in our schools. I heard it at a social function: I was having lunch with my girlfriends aunt.

Apparently, auntie has a neighbour whose child does not much like school. The child is in grade six.

Of course, the child does not like school, the system is plagued with systematic racism, the textbooks are biased against abortion, and there is no food for the starving children from the oppressed welfare class, er, so I thought.

Actually, no, related auntie. Everything is fine (er, was). The teacher is experienced and beloved by her students. There is free food for those that wish to eat it. The textbooks are friendly and fun and make her child think.

The problem is the shrieker. This child appeared in the middle of the school year. He screams everyday. He throws things. Not that screaming, missile throwing children are unknown in public school, it is just that this child does it every day, repeatedly and often. So far, three other children have been attacked by the shrieker. The teacher cannot teach, she has to watch for assault and battery. All of her attention is upon the shrieker, his flying fists and his slashing teeth. Her other students have grown to hate the shrieker. They do not want to go to school anymore. I suspect the teacher does not either.

Parents have called the principal. Parents have gone in to see the principal. Why is this shrieker in this class with our children? Do we not have specialty programs for children with behavior difficulties? The principal was understanding, he spoke soft words in soft voice. His hands were tied. The single momma of the shrieker had refused to send her troubled child to a program that specializes in troubled children. The principal shrugged. Let us all be Bonobo's about this. The shrieker will grow out of his baboon phase.

Now, I know better. I used to manage and train telemarketers, and lying was my bread and butter. The principal, in this case, is lying through his teeth. With a stroke of his pen he can dispatch the shrieker to a program. That is what principals do. That is their job. So, I looked at the situation like a telemarketing manager...

The class of the shrieker is getting a teaching assistant to help the teacher with the shrieker. Until the formal process of hiring is completed, the principal's daughter (a bright girl, in second year Arts at the University of Toronto) is filling in on a temporary basis. So, a job has been created, which creates valuable work experience. None of the parents have demonstrated enough spine to protect their children from this horrible experience; the shriekers parents have. Behaviourally, it is good for the shrieker to be among normals. It is bad for the normals, but they have parents who trust the principal, and believe him when he flicks his forked tongue. It is valuable work experience for the teaching assistant ... I can see the principal, sitting in his leather chair, listening to the classical program on CBC radio, and he will dictate a glowing reference to his secretary to type up for this teaching assistant. And the normals? They learn diversity and tolerance. The teacher? She learns to fear her boss. She must now find ways to please him or, perhaps, another shrieker will descend upon her class. This is a victory for feminism.

And do not forget the political angle. Yes, the parents have called The Trustee. And, no, her hands are tied. And yes, in some future year, an election year, the shrieker will be plucked from whatever class he is fece-smearing in, and dispatched to a place where shriekers are supposed to go. Parents will breathe a sigh of relief: what a great Trustee! Comrade She-Trotsky has liberated us and our children from the shrieker, let us vote for her! And the momma of the shrieker, she will be proud of her Trustee: what a great Trustee! Comrade She-Trotsky had kept my shrieking child in a regular program with normals for three (whatever) years, let us vote for her!

It is too early to see the results of this social experiment of the principal. The normals are too young to vote. Certainly, it is too soon to see if they develop a hatred of education and abandon careers in engineering and science and instead join the military, the police, or the Hells Angels. The teacher is close to retirement, perhaps she will up her litres consumed of white wine. And the darling teaching assistant? With the glowing reference, the valuable work experience, and the cash flow, well, she is off to a promising start in public education. And how about a vacation in Africa, paid for by dad?

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this at both Mitchieville and DustMyBroom.