THE SCHOOL CHRISTMAS SERVICE

 

The Meaning of the Nativity

The Christmas service being the only guaranteed point of contact between the school and the church proper, it is important that the modern Christian message is maximised: guilt for our sins against the rest of the world and a plate collection predicated on this.

Nothing numinous spoils this prostration, God’s presence in the Christmas service is as a sort of reparations tribunal judge. And so the pupils listen to a sermon as if written by Madonna (not the Madre de Dios, but the so-named billionaire idiot screecher and African baby snatcher ), emphasizing how much ‘we’ still must do for Third World female equality, thirsty jungle denizens, and aspiring, but non-swimming, future UK welfare recipients. ‘Do’ here meaning pay up and suffer anguish.

As told by the officiating minister, this is the current meaning (apparently) of Jesus’s birth: Guilt for the White children*, here cast in the role of modern day Romans; and righteous indignation for the darker-hued ethnic others, here cast as the meek who are deserving of inheriting the Earth – or, at least, the European portion. This guilt is, of course, presumed to be a well-deserved consequence of colonialism, endemic racism and unearned privilege. And, so the argument goes, this White privilege (as the practical expression of all the vileness that swarms around the White genotype) must be destroyed if society is to make progress. This progress is not defined, indeed it is important to the message that it is left as a hazy destination on the horizon; however, although the child is not able to comprehend the nature of progress’s destination, the adult reading here is sure to understand some of its the less attractive aspects.

You may wonder, as I do, how much of this sermon the children understand? Perhaps not a lot, at least in the literal sense. But the intended message of guilt and retribution is planted deep and then conflated with progress. The message planted deep is the whole point of the sermon, and for this they do not need to correctly understand it. It grows within them as they grow. And when we consider that we and our children are surrounded by this self-same message coming at us from every direction, the idea that our children are being prepared for another world to come is not at all far-fetched. Is this targeting of our children in this vulnerable, candle-lit setting an example of the predictive programming we hear either proffered or derided?

Certainly, as an adult and would-be protector of our children’s mental well-being, many thoughts join the hymns and homilies in speeding up to the rafters and beyond. But these, alas!, are incongruous to the season of goodwill; and so, in the spirit of which I’ll only list the simplest question about the spiritually free, but social justice dense, new meaning of Christmas: Justify this truth!

 Conspiracy?; absolutely! – Theory?; you decide!

Of course, we need not accept the neuro-linguistic programming and shallow pieties of the globalist Newspeak sock puppets that pass as current custodians of the empty churches. We have our own saints to speak of spiritual truths, saints who have our temporal as well as eternal well-being at heart. After the politicised nonsense of the Christmas service, let us direct our children’s attention to them. Indeed, we could turn to them for succour. And actually we should. 

Omnes sancti orate pro nobis

 What think ye?

 

*  In a subtle little epiphany created for their future (perhaps), the listening boys are cast in the role of Jesus before the Sanhedrin, but without the opportunity to reply to the slanders to their sex.

PS. I wish my reader (thank you for your perseverance, …………. ) a merry Christmas and aa the best for the new year.

AN INSPECTOR CALLS. PART 2

 Continuing our series celebrating the work of HM Inspectors of Education and the joy their presence invariably brings to a school.

…and in my dream methinks I saw the world as it was firstly ordained.

 The inspectors lined up before the assembled teaching staff. Their leader, the Kommissar Kapitan of Education, spoke: We are going to show you how we’ve earned our stripes. Me and my officers are going to come into your classes at random and show yous how it’s done. People ask us on what authority do we swoop down on you like fiery archangels? Well, you see this (and he indicated a black cross hanging from a red silk ribbon around his throat), this tells you that I’ve earned the right to lead by example and am not afraid of non-compliant pupils, idiotic policies or box-ticking monkeys in management. Like yourselves, the pupils will understand that I am motivated by love of learning and informed by experience and common sense. 

 He continued: We’ll deliver to your classes pacey, engaging and light-hearted lessons, properly differentiated and with effective use of technology. You’ll see difficult pupils effectively managed and led to instruction by subtle psychology. You’ll see the pedagogic overload and clichés discarded and replaced with intuition and experience. The rubbish bin will be bursting with the once fashionable nonsense of learning intentions, growth mindset, success criteria, self-assessment, revisiting strategic goals, time to reflect on their target, the chaos of active learning, etcetera, etcetera, blah, blah, blah and blah! The children will start the lesson but lightly burdened, and end it just the same.

 All you need do is watch. Take notes as you wish. Be not afraid of our example, as we in turn are not afraid of your judgement.

I me thought, ‘Now wouldn’t that be something – an inspector that builds rather than destroys, has craft rather than guile, has integrity rather than a checksheet.’

And then a voice said: ‘I have sent this phantasie through airy realms to shew ye by means of ironic whimsy the nature and scale of your trial in inspection-land. And too, how great shall be thine reward for conquest over this enemy. 

‘But now, the dawn beckons, and, alas, reality.’

NOTE: It is my contention that HM Inspectors of Education, as state enforcers of political dogma, endless admin and learning cliché, contribute less than zero to the actual improvement of schools.

The possibility of a visit by them hangs like a contagion over a school – the staff driven to distraction, or worse! Deceit forever surrounds their presence. I have never heard, nor head of, an inspection report that said anything genuinely useful, far less displaying wisdom. It’s just another boondoggle at top dollar. Better alternatives to HM inspections readily suggest themselves, not least employing real leaders as headteachers. 

It would be wonderful if just some the many inspectors who read this blog would take some time off from counting down to their retirement date and deign to defend their profession against this attack on their relevance, competence and integrity. I am sure that the reader understands not to hold their breath while awaiting this courtesy.

 

H.M Inspector of Education

 Dedicated, with sympathy, to those teachers about to face Cthulhu. Here it speaks in advance of the heavy judgement its presence brings:

An Inspector Calls.

 

Prepare your folios, let me my comfort find

Hard words shall fly like dust before the wind

Teachers maun dae something for their meat

An so maun inspectors

 

Cry aa you want, your tears are wine tae me

Your Dinny kens I hear as music sweet

The judgement already fated, the report

Your punishment, my swinging club

 

And yet, I deserve your pity

For at that time when all are judged

We wha judge are judgit the harshest

The hypocrite’s H branded on the arse.

 

 

 

 They’ve evolved to be like this. Don’t be too hard on them, we’re all parasites on something.      

                      HM Stationary Office (Inspector of the HM Inspectors of Education )

EDUCATION'S FUTURE PURPOSE

 

Anti-racism; Scottish Education’s Number One Priority

Each year ‘Show Racism the Red Card Scotland’ holds a competition that sees young people, from Primary 1 to FE, coming up with creative ways to promote messages of anti-racism. 

But why? How did this become so important? Did those promoting this not see the implicit dark message, or notice the terrible potential with the transformation of the definitions of racism from what one does, to what one says, to what one thinks, to what one is assumed to think, to presence, to mere existence being a hate crime if you have the wrong opinion. Or the wrong colour; and here we arrive at ‘Whiteness’, the latest Talmudic sophistry which allows the attack on White interests and Whites as people under the justice trope of merely attacking a concept. Primary schools are not yet discussing ‘Whiteness’as a pathology to be eradicated and then this celebrated as a good for humanity. However, this morbid obsession is in the background to all the cultural choices made within school which have gradually undermined White cultural interests. For example, it's a now a near necessity that no Christian religious festival can be mentioned without an obsequious reference to some other religion’s apparently equivalent festival (e.g., Hanukkah and Christmas). This is a phenomenon that flows just one way.   

What is worrying about this particular aspect of our anti-racism priority is that, under the guise of due consideration to other cultural practices, the gradual erosion of White cultural references tacitly signals their irrelevance. The child not seeing or hearing of such references naturally assumes they don’t exist; and there is no mainstream or school-based source to disabuse them of this notion.

This requirement to promote others as equally valid reduces the preference the native culture is due by right and thus shows it disrespect. In doing this, the disrespect rebounds back on native Whites who cannot, or at least do not, defend and high honour their own cultural practices and icons. This is another example of the observation that in attempting to respect everything equally regardless of intrinsic merit, or to celebrate everything equally, is to respect and celebrate nothing in particular. This akin to not actually celebrating at all!

In this context to preference one thing is to disfavour something else. To honour a culture more than your own is to dishonour your own. To dishonour your own in front of ethnic others is to be a traitor. To always be seeking equivalences as appeasement, to always be apologising, to be always finding validity through the well-being of other groups, signals weakness. This cultural relativism further damages our native confidence in our own values as it bolsters the same effect in the field of ethics and morality; accepting all values as equal in truth and validity makes it impossible to defend your own. One thusly destroys one’s own authority and source of power. Only Whites do this. Teaching self-hate is our White intellectual patrimony!      

Without a doubt, there should indeed be a focus on anti-racism in Scottish primary schools. The reader is sure to understand the direction in which this should be encouraged to flow.

 

Race is not Everything, but Without it Everything is Nothing

FASTER ELECTRIC GREEN: THE FUTURE OF SCHOOLS

 

Electric Scooters for the Future School

I’ve seen a few electric scooters recently helmed by adults riding the pavement. And I am aware of a discussion regarding the merit of this development: some claiming (wrongly, obviously!) that the collision risk from a 20 stone land whale scootering at 20 mph outweighs the benefit to the hungry juggernaut of getting to the burger bar quicker. This debate brought to mind a discussion that my class had regarding the pros and cons of this new tech.

As part of the school’s pupil democracy initiative, classes were invited to propose playground improvements. While doing so, a male pupil suggested the provision of electric scooters. He then had to fend off accusations that boys would just use them to chase girls – a fair point. This fun-filled image of screaming girls and whooping boys, perhaps with lassos, had to be put aside when another, and kinder, use was suggested: a better way to complete the Daily Mile*for those pupils who suffer from ‘sore legs’ when they run, or just can’t be bothered due to laziness and fatness. This was a genius level idea, which, even as it crushingly defeats the purpose of the Daily Mile, perfectly epitomises the diabolic connection between tech and health which the Daily Mile is apparently designed to address. Alas, all this came to a disappointing naught, and the scooters were not adopted. School management, it appears, really doesn’t care about what the pupils think or want; and I know that you'll be as surprised as me with the implication that the various pupil committees and opinion surveys are just for show to deceive the parents and wider public. And for inuring our pupils, as future citizens, to the irrelevancy of their democratic opinions about anything. 

However, some good news: it was recently reported that, given the trend in childhood obesity, such scooters (with beefed-up frames) may indeed become a commonplace in school. This to ensure that infant fatbergs don't turn up to class tired out from walking from their car drop-off  to the classroom. This is a powerful response to those nayayers who never see any good in technology. And to those who complain about greenhouse gas emission, I would remind them that the scooters are electric powered. So you can go faster and save the planet faster! And as for those smart Alecs that claim that the electric charge stations themselves depend on even more fossil fuel than just using fossil fuel directly (!) Ha ha, got you there! – we have been informed that these electric charge stations will be powered by government statistics and bullshit, and you don’t get any greener than that. So, ha ha; got you back! 

For my part, I would swap a whiteboard update for the cost equivalent of a half-dozen class-based electric scooters and a quad bike. Some tasks would surely get done quicker; and even if this was just chasing girls at playtime, this alone would justify the cost.

What think ye?

PS. I am pleased to report that, thanks to IT upgrades, the daily mile is now completed digitally. The pupil carbon footprint is a bit bigger, of course, (like the waistband) but we now avoid ‘really’ sore legs and the terrible dangers of getting wet should it rain while outdoors.

 NOTES

*  An idea that primary schools, rather than parents, should be responsible for promoting weight loss and fitness among their children; and that the best way to do this is to have the children run a mile every day. Basically, then, the school should become like a sort of fitness camp. Of course, children should be running miles every day anyway, but not as (as in the Daily Mile) running a continuous mile, as an adult runner would. I think I’ll return to this topic in a later blogpost, for it nicely illustrates the idiot-level thinking that relentlessly attends the curriculum, and just as relentlessly dips the public purse.

THE SHAKESPEARE ENIGMA: WHAT’S GOING ON?

                            

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

My developed interest in Shakespeare goes back over thirty years, however, I had ignored the authorship question (did actor Will from Stratford write the works with his name on them?); assuming it for the most part improperly motivated. And although aware of the stupendous world of reference within his writing, which massively exceeds the various limitations of his country-boy background, and the numerous other anomalies surrounding his supposed life, I had countered them by acknowledging his genius as a sufficient explanation.

 

However, I no longer accept this argument, as, following some recent study, I now realise that even a genius still has to have a particular education to allow their art the particular form of expression it takes. Leaving aside all the other evidences*(and there is a lot), the actor Will from Stratford did not/could not have had such an education that his putative works brilliantly reveal – this is, of course, the authorship mystery. But who then?

 

Peter Dawkins in his The Shakespeare Enigma simultaneously demonstrates Will as clearly not the author, and convincingly argues for Sir Francis Bacon using Will from Stratford as a mask. This work represents a formidable piece of lifelong scholarship which is not easily gainsaid, no matter the obvious objections to this idea that swiftly come to  mind and (as in my case) how much you cherish the idea of a common-stock Englishman being the world’s greatest literary artist.

 

The arguments against Will the Stratford actor as author also involve the most amazing and clear evidence of cabalistic and other secret embedded codes within Shakespeare’s works, and particularly the sonnets. This was something I had no awareness of at all. And its presence takes my wonder to a whole new level; although, frankly, beyond my ability to understand, far less appreciate, what exactly is going on, and why Shakespeare (whoever he is) has included such esoteric mysteries hidden within his work. This level of thinking (for want of a better term) is so far in advance of mine that I feel like a child shown advanced calculus.

 

In addition to Dawkin’s demonstrations, the exploration of these secret signs, mathematical patterns and embedded codes within the works is brilliantly explored by Alan Green, in his books and Bardcast videos. Green’s approach is somewhat different to Dawkins, although the two are complementary, and indeed both researchers are friends, rather than rivals. Powered by the love of Shakespeare’s work, and I suppose the thrill of the chase, Green has mastered the daunting maths and trigonometry incorporated (yes, it actually is!) and made himself a formidable cryptologist – all self taught! Both Green and Dawkins, then, in their relentless intellectual curiosity and search for truth are following a great British tradition of somewhat eccentric maverick-scholars. Eccentric, of course, here meant as a respectful nod to their wonderful persistence, quite devoid of self-interest.

 

Green too has, of necessity, arrived at a similar refutation of Will from Stratford as the Shakespeare author, but argues for the Earl of Oxford, Edward de Vere, with an influence of de Vere’s mentor, the Elizabethan polymath, Dr Dee; Green’s evidence seems irresistible – at least, for the sonnets.

 

However, I’m equally convinced of Bacon as the real Shakespeare author. So, now I don’t know what to think! I intuitively sense a single voice in the plays and in the sonnets (although not necessarily the same in both, as I understand the plays and poetry being quite different types of literary endavour), but perhaps that voice has more than one mind? As my understanding now rests, I cannot see any way beyond a team effort; certainly they knew each other well. By team effort, I am meaning sharing the same Shakespeare name as their  front, and not necessarily directly collaborating on any particular publication. Strangely, years ago I came across (I cannot remember when or where) just such an argument and considered it so unlikely, ridiculously so, that I concluded the author of this argument quite mad. And now me!

 

Lest you think that this is written in any sort of disappointment at the Shakespeare mystery being further compounded, I can assure you that this is not the case. The author is the same genius he was before, and the beauty and wonder of his work is unchanged by authorship questions. Whatever the truth of this, beyond doubt Will Shakespeare**from Stratford is not author Shakespeare. Although Will from Stratford does have a role in this story, perhaps as a collaborator providing an actor’s insight, and/or a willing (bribed) mask for the true author who had (or preferred) to remain hidden. Hiding creative authorship behind a false persona might seem inexplicable to us today, but is perfectly understandable in the febrile, dangerous context of early modern England.

 

Following up on what seem to be revealing clues, Alan Green hopes to be able to soon pull back the curtain and uncover physical evidence of the true author/s. They wanted this – hence the clues! And somewhere, somehow, all the Shakespeares are smiling.

 

As an advocate of Shakespeare studies being incorporated into the primary school curriculum, in lieu of …[better not say], I had at first considered the authorship question as a significant complication. However, on further reflection, I now think the exact opposite. Children love mysteries and puzzles, and complicated motivations; what is the Shakespeare authorship question but this transposed to early modern England? And it is, in its essential feature, hardly different from Enid Blyton’s Secret Seven which enthralled me as a child.

 

Thusly, I no longer fear introducing this aspect to children, but look forward to it.

 

All things are ready if our minds be so.

 

What think ye?

 

*   For me, speaking as a lover of literature and a parent, what absolutely nails the mystery is that Shakespeare’s daughters were illiterate. Consider: The world’s greatest literary genius, and an established gentleman in his hometown, didn’t bother ensuring his children’s literacy! If the actor Will from Stratford is the author, this is simply inexplicable. ( Note that by Shakespeare's time the claim that there was a cultural prejudice against female literacy is not valid – and certainly so against females with the social standing of Will's daughters)

 ** Will from Stratford has many different spellings and pronunciations of his surname. The one we know best (Shakespeare) only once turns up on a document, independently of the publications.

PS. I cannot even begin to here provide a summary of the brilliant work mentioned and so I’m hoping this essay has made you curious and so will search out Peter and Alan’s books, and Alan’s podcasts. I should note that I am not dismissing the traditional view; although I note that some defenders of this position have adopted a patronising, even sarcastic, attitude to the rival arguments – casting them in the popular trope of conspiracy theory to better discredit it – but, in fact, more discredits themselves (looking at you, Shapiro!) in refusing to properly consider the serious questions posed by the authorship controversy.

A collection of authorship arguments can be found at the home page of the link below. This specific link takes you to a page with videos about it and a statement of the authorship question, which is also read out loud (excellently) by the actor Michael York, should you prefer to hear it:

https://doubtaboutwill.org

 

REWARDING THE PUPPET

 

CEO Ken Muir CBE

I’ve just found out that the ex CEO of the GTCS¹, Ken Muir, has been made a CBE; this for “services to education.” Never was it more deserved. And Her Majesty has to be commended for exposing, in awarding this ‘honour’, the true value of Ken to the Scottish nation.  CBE tells you everything you need to know about him and his role in “bringing Scottish education into the 21st century.” I already knew him well through his regular articles in the GTCS monthly ‘professional’ magazine.

Under his leadership, the GTCS completed its transformation from a simple, but sufficiently functional, administrative body that basically maintained a box file of those deemed qualified to teach to a bureaucratically bloated, Soviet-style state organ that has led the profession into a death embrace with educational nonsense.

In fronting all the social justice pieties and relentless initiatives to ‘enhance standards’, and ‘tackle inequities’, the GTCS has created a technocratic hellscape that delivers endless failure at top dollar. And then lies about it through its in-house Pravda, here called (Ha ha!) Teaching Scotland, but really should be Unteaching Scotland.

Endless failure at top dollar; Aye, there’s the rub!

After the Review of Additional Support for Learning “raises serious questions” about translating inclusion into effective practice, Ken is “shocked by the realities of inequity”; likewise, he is “sickened’ by racism in schools. He is always ‘disappointed at the lack of progress’ towards that shape-shifting chimera called Excellence; and always (bravely, naturally) recognises the need for ‘more questions’, ‘more commitment’, ‘more reviews’ and ‘more resources’. But fortunately, less teaching seem too dark a profession, he is always encouraged by some new initiative – especially those involving the GTCS itself laundering the hoovered up public funds.

He is like a cliché machine for the brave new world of social justice.

In over 40 years within teaching apparently he has not noticed any patterns behind the relentless fakery and deceptions, the destructive trends and false ideas, the Utopian madness behind all the failures. Nor noticed the countless billions spent on tomorrow’s garbage, or that every fix further embeds the problem. What is it with Ken – idiot, puppet or (borrowing the phrase) willing executioner? Either way, he carries no shame. He’s our fiddling Nero!

In confronting social reality and human nature, the hubris behind current teaching practice represents nothing less than an attack on human consciousness in general and, specifically, psychological warfare against us natives. No other generation of teachers has had to endure the infiltration and subversion of their workplace to the extent that ours has. And no other generation of pupils has had to endure such psychological manipulation and been the deliberate subject of dark political vision.

CEO Ken had nothing to say about this! In his disingenuous calls for scrutiny and accountability he could have started with himself. But he never once questioned establishment narratives. The globalist ambition for Scotland carries vast power, but, as it is realised through subverted bureaucracies, it still needs valets to deliver its messages. And so, ('atta boy!) enter Ken. And now you know why the ‘honour’. This corporate tool served his true master well; and all for only £100K + and a stonking pension.

One wonders about the spirit motivating such establishment cogs? His monthly articles displayed such clichéd imbecility, such dissembling emptiness, that he must have known he was lying. Of course, this ability is why he was installed (in the manner of a toilet) as CEO. But still one hopes, if integrity and leadership cannot to be displayed en route to career security, then one can hope that conscience catches up with ambition upon retirement. And, at last, free to tell the truth! After all, he’s not tribal or cabal, and being an old man with his reckoning on the near horizon, why not clear your conscience before that final classroom door and do his country a true service by addressing to the public the true reason for the endless school failures without fear or favour to teachers, parents, bureaucrats, politicians and pupils. This could be done in a dignified manner, after the fashion of Solzhenitsyn.²

But Ken has nothing to say here! Has he been bought for the bauble tossed his way?

I used to think that cowardice streaked with shame explained the silence of such creed as Ken, but now I believe that their loyalty to the lies that they see destroying their own people was not bought, it was given. Ken, like his CEO ilk, was born to be a traitor to his own people. This is basic genetics at play.

I was thinking on approaching this piece of considering Ken as another destroyer-general, but on reflection this was honouring his service to our demise too much. Traitor-slave more describes his role. CBE is his brand of ownership.

What think ye?

PS. I am using the familiar Ken, but not as a friendly gesture. It seems the least offensive way of indicating my lack of respect.

 NOTES

1. General Teaching Council for Scotland. Formerly an administrative body and now a globalist front and sales agent for digital solution proffered by our IT overlords.

2. My fantasy preference would be after the manner of Dave Moss resigning his employment in the movie, Glengarry Glen Ross.The Mitch and Murray office should be replaced with the Scottish Parliament – it seems like a fairly good fit. And  wee Nic could be Tony Roma. Actually, she is him in a pantsuit!

HONOURING OUR ANCESTORS

 Commemorating the Day After.

Today, the 23^rd of July, was a day of national reckoning for our ancestors in 1298. For this was the day after Wallace’s Scottish Commons Army* suffered a defeat by their national enemy at the Battle of Falkirk on the 22^nd July. The English, led by their great king, Edward 1, the ‘Hammer of the Scots’ himself, utilised for the first time the irresistible tactical combination of massed archers (the arrow storm*) followed by an armoured cavalry charge, then infantry to finish off survivors; it was a set-piece battle we had little chance of winning anyway. The scale of this defeat is hard to know, for then, as now, both sides had an interest in spinning the result for advantage, but regardless it was still a solid defeat. Any Scots who did not escape were not offered the option of surrender; no POWs in the 13^th Century! After the triumph at the Battle of Stirling Bridge the year before, this defeat could have been psychologically crushing and politically breaking.

But it wasn’t. Our ancestors picked themselves up, dusted themselves down and started all over again. And this is why I am writing commemorating this, rather than the battle, which I am happy for our English cousins to celebrate if they wish.

Although the examination of this episode makes fascinating history, it is not my intention to do this here, but just to salute the fortitude of our ancestors on this date in holding fast to their identity and independence, as Scots – for this is how they referred to themselves. Without this belief, which they proved to be true in the profoundest sense, I would not have written this, nor you read it.

And I do this too as a reference to the political and cultural chaos that is encroaching ever nearer to our wee corner, with a reminder that we have in our heritage that stuff which will enable us to ride it out and see it off. We need to remind ourselves of this, as no-one else does.

 Dae richt. Fear nocht.  

  *   The commons army, so named because its command and structure was not dependent on the compromised Scotch nobility and their retinues. In other words, it was the common us!

*    This was no hyperbole. Just doing the simple maths for a comfortable rate of longbow shooting with the probable number of archers could easily yield 100,000  arrows, and it could have been even more! Add the slingshot and crossbow bolts to this banquet of aerial death, and note that most Scotch soldiers were, at best, lightly armoured. The effect of this arrow storm on the packed ranks of Scotch infantry would hardly be less than that of machine guns.

[My Wallace bio covers this topic should you be interested in exploring it further. ]

This is a repost from last year, given the date and the nature of the topic this seems an apt thing to do.

WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS?

 

Children’s University

Under a teasing sun warming

behind the classroom glass

the glacier slow drag to term’s end

and then,  just when it seemed that

the final day would never arrive,

it did. Freedom day, best day of the year

 

the start of the summer holidays

and naturally children’s thoughts,

once freed from classwork, turn quickly

to lessons, recording attainment

and graduating, cap and gown

 …from university – at 8 years old!

 

If a child naively thought that they could do children’s things in the summer hols, then they should think again. For here we introduce Children’s University for 5-14 year olds; killing two birds with the one stone; more pressure on our children to ‘achieve’ and that false achievement then celebrated.

Actually, this university is a delusional summer school puffed up by verbiage and an all-smiling, professional website, as is SOP nowadays for anything connected to education. This done without (apparently?) considering the pandemic effect on real childhood experiences and achievements by conflating them with phoney ones, like the C U. Here, after completing the required number of educational units, which have to be diligently recorded (at five years old, ha ha!), children even attend a cap and gown graduation where they get their ‘degree’! No doubt, all this is Faceborged by proud (and obviously better!) parents. Everybody graduates, of course, except they don’t really. But the inversion, devaluing and degrading of language is real, as is the child’s loss of valuable playing time.

Some may say: Now, hold on, Seneca. This claim hardly does credit to the wisdom you feign in borrowing the mantle of your illustrious namesake; what’s wrong with someone putting together some activities and lessons for the summer hols? Kids get bored sometimes, you know! Stated thusly, the answer is – absolutely nothing! Doing things, educational or otherwise, with children over the holidays (and especially, your own children) is natural and right. Organising at local level, also meets my approval. But the C.U. idea goes beyond this organically-sized project. And taking the thinking, beyond the simple idea, to second level and beyond allows us to see danger shaping up.

Firstly, in the obligation on parents and children to be thinking of lessons and attainment during what is traditionally a downtime; ignoring that this downtime is central to consolidation of learning and mental recovery. As if still at school, the child’s mind never gets into holiday mode, but always has a lesson coming up; moreover, one which has to be recorded into their uni ‘passport’. I liken this situation to an adult going on holiday and daily checking their work emails or updating their professional development folder!

Secondly, conferring the word ‘university’ on children’s activities contributes to the phenomenon of ‘word inflation’, whereby the ordinary (or, dare you think it, substandard?) is redefined in glowing terms; thus to inflate the conceit of the hearer to better deceive them. By transferring meanings across adult and child domains we devalue terms and concepts, and confuse the recipients.  It is a form of psychological manipulation, and by this means the disingenuous and downright lies enter into the things they describe. And thusly, are our schools full of bullshit. A cornerstone of the revival of our culture has to be an awareness of how this malefic language degrades us, wedded to a conscious attempt to restore natural language by rejecting the verbose, the deceitful and the Orwellian.

Finally, I am concerned at the real threat that comes with funding and nice websites – that of subversion. Can anyone doubt now, with White racism and sexism found everywhere, that such a ready-made platform (tailored to the demographic most desired by our masters) will soon find itself dancing to their tunes.

Anyway, I don’t believe the claim that such programmes create a sense of achievement and boost confidence. I think that, regardless of a child’s real interest in the topic they are studying, it is seen as  just another adult-mediated thing they are forced to do. And parents are, at best, patronising their children if they buy into this idea of the Children's University.

I think that parents should be wary of such programmes. Let your children have real time off. If they get bored, then that’s their problem to fix.

There is a time and a place for everything, but it seems that every time and place is to be seized as an opportunity to impose ‘good ideas’ on our children. Everything is about achievement, it seems; it’s as if children are preparing their C.V. at 8 years old. Maybe they are.

What think ye?

AGILITY: A CRUCIAL QUALITY

 

The Lovely Trivium of Childhood; Optimism, Grace, Agility.

I recently noticed a schoolboy of around ten years old attempting to climb over a fence of about five feet tall. What a palaver, he had no idea how to do it; finally, leaving defeated. I was tempted to demonstrate the jump, lean over and flip that would accomplish this, but desisted on realising that I would likely complete my explanation of the technique to the sheriff court. 

When I was this child’s age, such a fence would represent a delay of seconds to me and the small commandos that made up the schoolboy cohort then. And if I was this child’s teacher, Monday would be devoted to acquiring this essential skill, disingenuously disguised as studying angles or a transitioning workshop. 

This got me thinking about agility, and comparing the antique child’s environment which placed a premium on it, to the now – where it is near non-existent and anyway disapproved of.

Agility is a quality that if it is not acquired young, is not acquired. It should be a defining feature of being a child (see, graceful entry), but, except for those children who are specifically trained for it via an adult-led sport, has been replaced with digital dexterity. This is a poor swap. And one of great consequence, beyond being able to climb a fence to escape PC. Murdoch! For this loss feeds into lifestyle and health options, and particularly future ones. The wheezing stiffy at ten is being trapped into a life of wheezing stiffness.

The school solution is obvious – running in the corridor and leaping up and down stairs. Teachers could lead by example, perhaps chasing slow pupils along corridors, or tigging them at their desks to encourage a counter-tig around the classroom. The recalcitrant slow should be chastised as necessary: Ha, ha, cannae catch me!

And: Excuse me, you know the rules. No walking in the corridor. Now get going – quickly!

Imagine how cool it would be to have a headteacher that was agile, instead of one that (excuse me, while I select a diplomatic phrase) seemed like the personification of a icing bun.

Classes could sprint out of the classroom at the playtime and lunch bell (Last out is a silly sausage!), and skip or hop back afterwards. Barriers and water-courses could be introduced throughout the corridor. Swing bars could be fitted to corridor ceilings to encourage arboreal agility. A large water jump should be placed in front of the headteacher's office. CRT ‘wokeshops’ could be replaced with Race Theory workshops, where teachers learn how to lead by example with high hurdles and the steeplechase. Certain suitable sections of the school building could be converted to parkour standard with money recovered from the class laptop budget scam.

Weekly awards for top traceur in each class. Tig would be a subject studied, hopefully replacing IT lessons. Kids would love it. Younger female teachers would fit into hot pants again; and what sort of man would object to that!

What think ye?

PS. I've just had a flashback from years ago: Once, coming along the school corridor, I passed a wee P1 girl skipping. How wonderful is that? I think this illustrates that lovely trivium I referred to above. Despite being transported with delight at witnessing how a little sprite can make anywhere a forest glade in sunshine, I had the wherewithal to compliment her skipping. The HT in that school would have censured her. 

 

SCOTLAND'S SAINT

 

The Message

 

 Once forgetting who he worked for

Columba found out the hard way

not to cross his employer’s plans

for Scotland.

 

He found out too that

beautiful accommodates ruthless

the angel appearing not as

the expected cherub but

 

an SS Sturmscharführer with Iron Cross

and Gold Oak Leaves

an angelic enforcer who lashed

the miscreant saint for three solid days

 

the brothers could hear the whipping

and cries inside the saint’s hut but

daren’t interfere for fear that

the holy hit man might ask:

 

D’ye want tae try some as well, Son?

 

And find themselves going to vespers

with their face in a towel.

 

Columba bore these scars

for life and carried the

experience into his dealings

with recalcitrant Scottish kings

 

When asking, Don’t you think

that in all the lands of the world,

God couldn’t find another king

for your people?

 

It was hardly a question and

the kings, taking note of the holy man's

scarred back, knew this was a god 

with a message they could appreciate;

 

My way or the highway!

Perhaps, seeing in the mind’s eye,

the downstairs accommodation

and God’s war band waiting

beyond the palisade

with whips and heated tongs

they took the baptism

for Scotland’s sake.

Today, the 9th June, is the day of Columba's earthly death in 597 on Iona, after a long life of converting pagans, curing the sick, banishing demons and other still enjoyed benefits of his blessings. This little poem is written in gratitude for the protection our nation's saint has provided (as promised) to us. It seems to be working – after all, we're still here, while better appointed others have long took the road to oblivion. The poem is actually from a little book, Epiphany in Azure, which you can download free if you click on the Big Ride link.

HAPPY DEATHDAY, GYORGY

 

This week’s destroyer-general: Georg Lukacs¹ (1885-1971)

Consumed with hatred for Gentile society, this ugly imp and fraud philosopher used his birthright pilpul and tribal chutzpah to sell the cultural Marxist ideas that have led us to our on-going cultural destruction. His stated ambition was to kill the Western spirit, and for this reason his tribal cohorts ensured that he was always able to find an audience, sinecure and publisher. His operating principles are taken from the same Talmudic playbook that has led our art to embrace garbage (see Sept 2020 entry), our media to be immersed in racism and sex, and our politics to be about endless wars and intrigue on behalf of…?...O, yeah, democracy.

Of course, he was from a family of banking barons (literally), the ‘class enemies’ he wanted to destroy² were, in fact, people like you. The Soviet experiment, especially in the twenties and thirties, with a Jewish-Bolshevik elect crushing Mother Russia’s (and especially, Ukrania’s) Orthodox children like insects, gets near to his idea of Aliyah.

Typically, and you might have noticed this pattern elsewhere, he was rather too interested in radical sex education; correctly seeing this as a double lashing of pleasure – destroying the European ethnic family while (O,…wild guess!) indulging his obsessive dirty mind.

However, we must give credit where it is due, and he well deserves it as a major figure in promoting the academic and political culture that have led us to the abyss. This is why he headlines this series in a blog on Scottish education, even though he’s a Hungarian (actually, ‘Hungarian’). We are swirling round the lavvy pan because of tribal radicals like him casting a hex over us. And their power is very great in academia.

The word salad gobbledygook of his major works is just misdirection from his real role as a destroyer-general. His work is not really philosophic, but operative in intent³ – leading to the ‘cleansing of false consciousness’. Now that I know what this actually means and who it references, I feel so foolish getting taken in by it. O, to have the time returned that was wasted on trying to make sense of this Gollum.

Yet, you don’t even need to know him or his work, even by repute, for the miasma to spread its contagion, for his type are legion and the end result is always the same for us.

If only he was alive, he would love the way things are turning out. He wanted a culture of pessimism (for Western Christians) and a world abandoned by their God; let us hope that in the afterlife he is getting these wishes returned.

I recently came across his name again in connection to the fiftieth anniversary of his death. This got me thinking that the source of much of our woes can be traced to miserable sociopaths, like Lucaks, too clever for everybody’s good. It might seem a far stretch, on first meeting the idea, that such obvious dystopian fraudsters, writing nonsense that few even read, could have caused our current madness; but on further reflection, one sees that these intellectual Lucifers planted the poisoned seed in academia which, as we see, is the foundation crop for all the sickly ideas harvested in our schools.

1.     As per Phoenician O.P., this is not his real name.

2.     Destroy is not used euphemistically by him. And in case you were wondering: note too, that it was class enemies that were to be re-educated, mainly by bullets, so this does not count as a genocide; nor is worthy of memorials, endless movies or reparations.

3.     By this I mean that he was not primarily motivated by a spirit of philosophic enquiry, but that his work's true inspiration was to destroy the Christian West. This makes his work polemical and political, rather than scholarly. To be fair to him, he hardly hid this desire

NB. Three Os in this piece – I surpass myself for…O,…exclamatory excellence.

THE KANSAS CITY EXPERIMENT

 

From fevered veins of angry teacher rads

And such conceits as clownage keeps in pay

We’ll lead you to the zealous halls of learning

There to hear our professors of education indulge

Their fantasy in equal scale and appetite

To the lofty stash of stolen public money

There to whip their impatient dream to shape 

Or not, as your eyes see it.

 

A Shining City on the Hill

That which cannot be referenced in educational discourse, although it is the endpoint of our hubris. 

Imagine all educational fantasists were given a blank cheque and the instruction to do everything they can to make education work for our disadvantaged children – as it should. Whatever the complaint or deficiency in our school system, fix it. Plan it deep, get the best, rack up optimism. Prove your arguments that disadvantage, and not culture or intelligence, or dare you think it, race, lies behind historical lack of achievement. At last enlightenment dreams meet political will: Individual PCs to take home, personal mentors, limitless resources, after school activities by the bucket-load, free breakfasts, free this, free that and the next thing, Olympic-size swimming pool? – you got it. Disadvantaged parents not forgotten either with vouchers galore for everything, excepting alcohol. Every incentive dreamed by man or god made manifest in this one place. Failure was made impossible by this power of righteous imagination married to educational science.

Spent, built, remodelled, recruited, encouraged, provided, indulged. And the result; a complete failure. A COMPLETE FAILURE by any metric. Well beyond the bounds of the darkest gainsayers. Indeed, outcomes were inversely proportional to expenditure. It has to be independently confirmed to be believed. Do so.

Of course, the meeting with reality only slightly set back the educational fantasists for their faith is made of sterner stuff. Perhaps they a missed heartbeat when faced with the ruin of their hopes, plans and literally the founding stock of their Utopian future. The lesson to them; there was no lesson to them! Their Jacobin attentions to the educational system were doubled down, the inconvenient fact silently, swiftly transited to the memory hole. Any who dared to mention it were,..well, you know what they were called! Institutional racism was apparently to blame, even for the blue on blue stabbings. 

The lesson to us: our fantasist enemies do not operate in the rational realm. Their complaints and programmes (and pogroms) are not about fixing things, but breaking them. And us. And your children, who are not their children.

It is these parasite-professors and destroyer-activists and suchlike creatures that stand in the shadows behind too much of our educational ambitions.

You did not read this. You do not know about any such experiment. Nor do you want to. Is Kansas City even a place?

PS. And should they be required, apologies to Marlowe. Such thievery has its impulse from deepest admiration.

HOMAGE TO CHAUCER

 

Whan that May with his sonne sa bryght
 

Whan that May with his sonne sa bryght

Maketh ye earth warm and setteth alle to ryght

Then shal lytel byrdies mak melodye

And giveth preyse to him wha sitteth on hie.

 

Then cometh tymme wi langre dais

And man to womman turnes hys gais

Wi amorous thochtes of futur blyss

Yf onlie she wad chuseth to be hys.

 

Quod he, I love thee marvellyss welle

be my guidwyf and with mee dwelle.

I am but a sympell churl, tis treue

but seeeth eternitee in a lyf with you.

 

Now womman thinketh to be wyse

Picketh a mate with lovynge eeyes

And thee shal everr blesst be

By loveth hym as he loveth thee.

 

Based on The Canterbury Tales prologue*, I’m hopynge that this explains itself, and does not seem like a mock of the great parent of our world-encompassing language. 

With a little effort (and a modern font) Chaucer’s Middle English comes alive and reads quite easily. It is great fun all round having children read it out and they can, using rhyming couplets (as above), reproduce their own homage. The vocabulary and spelling has to be supported, of course, but the only tricky bit is getting the first line. After that’s done, it more or less writes itself for the first couple of verses. And then you've done it; your primary pupils have written in Middle English! We did it recently for April (hence the prologue reference) to meikle delyghte and som pryde tae.

After such a lesson, there's only one direction; onwards and backwards to Beowulf! Kids love this, Beowulf slays Mylie, Nikki, Ariana and all the other swamp-owned succubi.

 

*

 Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote

              When April with its sweet-smelling showers
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,
               Has pierced the drought of March to the root,
 And bathed every veyne in swich licour
               And bathed every vein (of the plants) in such liquid
Of which vertu engenderéd is the flour;
               By the power of which the flower is created

...............

FYI: There are many youtube examples for how to pronounce this; some are rubbish, but you'll quickly identify them.