The American school system is a dream killing, soul crushing enterprise that every child is mandated to attend. It’s purpose has never been to educate. It’s always been to indoctrinate… uhhh, I mean convince you to dedicate the majority of your “one wild and precious life” to that “which pleases the predominant power”. In our case labor and consumption.
And it works. After years of sitting in straight rows, raising your hands to speak, controlled bathroom breaks, and being told what to think for eight hours a day. The gatekeepers no longer have to worry about you straying too far from the herd.
In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries the labor forces of American factories were commonly children. But kids had this nasty habit of… well, being kids. Industrial accidents ensued. It sounds harmless when you put it that way. Like machines running into each other. It wasn’t. Frequently important parts of children were intertwined in the mayhem. Even way back then people frowned on kids losing a limb… or two.
People assembled. State legislatures threatened new rules. But if there’s one thing you should know about America it’s this: what’s good for business is good for America. And what was good for the businesses of the day was cheap child labor. The rules didn’t change.
By 1918 attendance in school was compulsory across the United States. What caused the factories to willingly relinquish their cheap labor to the schools? A promise from the schools to provide something of even greater value. An endless supply of obedient labor… that’s also trained to consume. (There’s no point in making a bunch of stuff if there aren’t any buyers.)
To be fair, they thought they were helping. It was plainly obvious to the planners that the future of America was giant factories. The population needed to know how to assimilate. That’s how it goes with predicting the future.
Think of all of the hundred year old thinking we’ve gotten rid of. Horses to cars. Telegrams to smart phones. Boats to airplanes. Bloodletting to band aids. Boring classrooms to well… boring classrooms. I guess some things don’t change.
People cite statistics today, like the fact that 25% of Americans believe that the sun rotates around the earth, and say that schools are failing. They’re not. They weren’t designed to solve that problem.
Our schools are great at what they do. The proof of their success lies in the number of you who willingly exchange the majority of your years for a minority… with which you can supposedly do whatever the fuck you want. (Now that your gum line matches your hair line, and your memories of nights of wanton pleasure are nearly as distant as the Apollo space program) Never once recognizing that you could have done that with all of your years. Yes, even the good ones.
My Dad worked his ass off. He never got those years. A lot of people don’t.
I never wanted to send our kids to school. But… there are a lot of educators in the family. I thought it might bring peace. It was a dumb idea. (Not my first) Peace was never in the offing.
We watched Wyatt become less curious and more dependent on direction. School bored Carson. That’s how it was for me too. He just ignored it and did his own thing. It’s also what I did. It’s a shitty thing to have to tune out a big chunk of your life.
One night at dinner, Wyatt… our resident outspoken personality, raised his hand for permission to speak. That was it for me.
If you want to keep their dreams alive I strongly urge you to bring both feet into the 21st century. There’s Khan Academy, YouTube, and at least two dozen other very good resources offering tens of thousands of lessons, given by great instructors. All free.
If you don’t believe that kids can or will self organize and take responsibility for their learning, I’d like you to meet Sugata Mitra. His “Hole in the Wall” study pretty much put the subject to bed. Perfect? I’m sure not. What is? But it’s certainly an indicator of what we can do.
One last thought on school… here’s a study conducted by Jake Halpern that I lifted from Seth Godin. When asked what job they’d like to have when grown up, more than forty three percent of school aged girls chose being the personal assistant of a celebrity, over being the head of a major company, a US Senator, a Navy Seal, or the president of a major university.
Mission accomplished. Dreams killed. Souls crushed.
We thought we’d be in Belize for two… maybe three weeks. That was more than two months ago. We’ve spent most of that time in the town of Orange Walk. I’m not entirely sure why.
I’ve explained our slow pace before. Easier on the people and the vehicles. And people and places don’t open up so quickly to outsiders. If you want to know them well you’ve gotta invest some time. It’s also easier on the resources. Gas is expensive here. When you relocate daily food can be expensive too. It takes a few tries to find the best butcher, produce, and grocery store in a new place.
But there’s another thing. I can’t quite put my finger on it… I think it’s this: There’s always been this crazy beast inside of me who was never satisfied… always questing. He’s quiet now. Maybe he’s sleeping… or dead. Maybe he was warning me that there is no tomorrow, and I finally listened. Whatever. He’s content. And I’m happy with the daily company of my family.
They say you’re the average of the five people that you spend the most time with. I’m in good company.
So… Orange Walk. It’s very comfortable. Warm weather. Neil Diamond, Dianna Ross, and the Carpenters inhabit the muzak. Familiar English folk music in the schools. It’s not the prettiest or most historical of places we’ve been to. But it’s among the most authentic. Orange Walk… Sugar Town as they call it, isn’t trying to be anything other than what it is. The proof… it’s a place that I would say has very little opportunity for it’s residents… and still they don’t want to leave. They really love their little town. Their affection is contagious. We’ve come to like it too.
We celebrated their thirty fifth year of independence with them.
I shot a concert… my first in years.
Became great friends with Mr P, owner of the Lamanai Resort. This guy is an absolutely incredible guitar player!!
We went to Carnivale.
Swam with crocodiles.
Visited Mennonite communities.
Met dogs.
And people.
A lot of people.
Including this gun totin’ immigrant hatin’ Trump supporter.
Went to Nice restaurants.
And Excellent restaurants… but skipped the OK restaurants.
Lived through a national teachers strike.
Snuck back into Mexico for a day… in a boat.
Made it through a storm…
or two.
Played in the rain.
Drank beer in dive bars.
Repeatedly missed out on free beer.
Laughed a lot.
Ran into a Disney Character who was down on his luck.
Watched the sun come up.
And watched it as it set. (That’s a croc in the water)
Watched the locals relax.
And absorbed as much of the local folklore as we could.
All while staying at the Lamanai Riverside Resort. In our opinion, this is THE place to stay in Orange Walk.
Belize is still really expensive by Central American standards. But if you take your time. Shop carefully. Cook the majority of your meals. Limit the beer. (You’re right… fuck that idea.) You can take most of the pain out of it. We’re getting by just fine on about $70 US ($140Bz) a day.