Greene County Schools: Axis of evil?
I can’t believe KCCI didn’t catch wind of this one.
I thought that Raccoon Valley Radio, at the very least, might have been tipped off by the sheriff.
Anyway, I have it on good authority that a 9-year-old recently brought a gun to the elementary school.
I can’t be certain what kind of gun, but I’m guessing it was probably an M1 Garand.
On second thought, it was maybe a Thompson submachine gun.
Then again, it’s entirely possible it could have been a flamethrower.
Now, before everyone gets all jumpy, I can reliably report that no one was injured. No one was even at risk of being injured — unless, of course, someone on the playground had sworn allegiance to the Fuhrer or to Emperor Hirohito.
I’ll have to confess: The 9-year-old in question is my son. (I could have sworn I left for work that morning with the flamethrower in the locked safe. And before one of you lib snowflakes calls DHS, I always have a trigger lock on the Panzerschreck anti-tank rocket when we’re not using it.)
The other evening at dinner, it was reported to me that our son is on his final warning at school.
He was informed that the next time he’s caught at recess “playing World War II,” it’s off to the principal’s office he goes.
I’ll admit. It was an unlikely talk we had to have with our son that night.
It went something like ...
“Henry, it’s really awesome that you have a deep love of history. Mom and I, er, well, I can’t wait to read your first book about the operational history of Merrill’s Marauders behind Japanese lines in Burma. Or maybe you’ll wind up being the ‘buddy who knows a lot about World War II infantry weapons’ on ‘Pawn Stars.’
“But the thing is, right now, the school has a zero-tolerance policy on guns. Even pretend ones. You can no longer run around at recess acting like you have a gun. Not even if you have a bead on Adolf Hitler and could shorten the war by 10 months.”
Our son doesn’t quite understand the fuss.
“But it’s historical,” he kept saying.
In his third-grade mind, history is a subject in school, so it’s therefore acceptable to re-enact at school.
In reality, he may have had better luck persuading his friends at recess to play “Donner Pass.”
My wife, who’s a teacher herself at Greene County Elementary, stands solidly behind the school’s policy on guns — even imaginary ones.
Much to her ire, I kept trying to suggest ways around the school policy.
Me: “Why don’t you be a Navy anti-aircraft gunner?”
Me: “Why don’t you play tank driver?”
Me: “Why don’t you play combat medic?”
Him: “We already have a medic! Mason’s the medic!”
Me: “Why don’t you fly a P-51 then?”
Me: “Why don’t you and your friends just collect bacon grease and scraps of tin for the war effort?”
I know I’m partially to blame for all of this.
I’m a great fan of history myself, and I’m often reading about it or else looking for a documentary to watch on Netflix.
We play Monopoly on the weekends like any other regular American family — except we have the World War II-themed version. (Instead of building houses and hotels, you build camps and headquarters. Between you and me, though, I suspect that Mr. Monopoly was secretly a Nazi sympathizer.)
Our son is an only child, which means he’s probably predisposed to being a little, well, odd.
When they pass out the Scholastic order forms at school, he scours it for World War II books. A children’s book about the Battle of the Bulge is not something I would have ever expected to see, but he found it.
When not playing, he’s just as apt to be found watching “Secret Super-Weapons of the Third Reich” as he is the Disney Channel.
In fact, his favorite movie of all-time is “The McConnell Story,” some obscure 1955 Alan Ladd movie about the Korean War’s first triple-ace. I read him the description one day when we came across it on Turner Classic and he insisted I DVR it.
A couple of years ago, at the showing of John Wayne’s “The Green Berets” during Classics Week at the Sierra Community Theatre, he was easily the youngest person in the audience by about 65 years.
Like any good parent, I have many of his drawings tacked to my office walls. The two most recent ones are labeled “Guadalcanal” and “new genui.”
Let’s face it: Most adults couldn’t spell Guadalcanal if they tried. (I’ll give the kid a pass on the spelling of New Guinea.)
So what’s a boy to do?
Here he is at recess, dropped behind German lines with the rest of the 101st Airborne, and he now has no rifle?
Is he just supposed to surrender?
No wonder they still teach French in school.