The eternal sunshine of the mind-controlled classroom
Jon Rappoport
I’m reprinting this piece, in view of the recent report on the vastly escalating diagnosis of ADHD, a “disorder” for which there is no diagnostic test.
“Well,” Jimmy’s teacher said, “we’re trying to emphasize cooperation. But Jimmy has another agenda. He apparently wants to stay separate from the other children.”
“Yes,” the principal said. “It’s matter of psychology. You see, separateness breeds conflict. On a larger scale, this is why nations have wars.”
“Agreed,” said the school superintendent. “We want each child to see the reflection of himself in the other children. And we want him to see the reflection of everyone else in himself.”
“You lost me there,” Jimmy’s father said. He was trying to remain calm.
A week ago, Jimmy, six years old, was sitting in class drawing. The teacher had taped a sketch of a face on the blackboard. She was taking the students through a step-by-step process aimed at getting them to reproduce the face in their notebooks.
She walked up and down the rows, and when she came to Jimmy, she saw he was drawing a very different face. It wasn’t bland. It was the face of a woman laughing. The face was floating among trees in a forest.
She stopped. The drawing looked very real.
“Jimmy,” she said, “this isn’t the face we’re all working on.”
He looked up at her.
“I know,” he said.
“So why are you doing this other one?”
He shrugged.
She said, “When we’re done, we’re all going to put our drawings on the blackboard and see what they look like. But your face will be different.”
“So?” he said.
She felt a wave of anger sweep through her. She controlled it.
“The other children will be confused when they see your face,” she said.
Jimmy shrugged again.
“I won’t put your face on the blackboard,” the teacher said.
“Okay,” Jimmy said.
After class, the teacher went to the principal and they sat down and looked through Jimmy’s file. They noticed that Jimmy had once worn an unusual T-shirt to school. It had a photo of a crown on it.
Another child had asked the gym teacher what the crown was.
Now, sitting in the meeting with the teacher, the principal, and the superintendent, Jimmy’s father said, “Jimmy just likes crowns. I don’t know why.”
“Well,” the teacher said, “a crown is a symbol of monarchy. One ruler over all the people.”
The principal said, “That other child felt confused when she saw the T-shirt. Confusion is an indicator that the communal spirit has been , well, interrupted.”
The superintendent said, “A crown can also have religious connotations.”
“Look,” Jimmy’s father said, “we were at a garage sale. Jimmy saw the T-shirt and liked it. So I bought it for him.”
“You let him wear a T-shirt from a garage sale?” the teacher said.
“We washed it first,” Jimmy’s father said.
“The point is,” the superintendent said, “we’re trying to foster a spirit of unity among the children. I’m sure you can see the value of that. Separateness is the problem. It means a child thinks he’s more important than the others. It’s a behavioral problem. The child can’t understand that we’re all One.”
“What does that mean?” Jimmy’s father said.
“It means the higher reality is Oneness.”
“I still don’t understand,” Jimmy’s father said.
The superintendent frowned.
“Jimmy drew a face that was very different. It wasn’t part of the lesson. Not only that, the face was disturbing.”
“Why?” Jimmy’s father said.
“Because it didn’t relate.”
“Didn’t relate to what?” Jimmy’s father said.
“To what children think about when they have a spirit of unity and when they share that spirit.”
“That’s interesting,” Jimmy’s father said. “So there is this spirit of unity, and children can share it. And when they do, they stop thinking about certain other things.”
“That’s one of way of putting it,” the superintendent said. “Do you teach Jimmy drawing at home?”
“No,” Jimmy’s father said. “He draws by himself. He likes it.”
“But,” the teacher said, “something must be going on at home.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Jimmy’s father said.
“You’re teaching him something at home.”
“Not really. I read to him.”
“What do you read?”
“The Wizard of Oz. Alice in Wonderland.”
Ah,” said the principal, “I see.”
“What do you see?” Jimmy’s father said.
“The boy doesn’t understand the text. It’s too advanced. So he substitutes his own images and ideas while you’re reading to him. And this takes him…away.”
“Away?”
“Yes. Into his own thoughts.”
“Actually, he does understand the books. I explain things when he has questions. But what’s wrong with his own thoughts?”
The principal said, “They’re…random. He fixates on those thoughts. And that takes him into a private world. When he comes to class, he’s still there. He can’t really perceive his classmates. He can’t see that he and they are One. He’s drifting. He’s isolated. It means he’s selfish. He doesn’t accept our curriculum. He doesn’t agree with it. He won’t develop a communal understanding.”
Jimmy’s father said, “I don’t think he’s selfish. And he can read. He can write, too. He has a notebook. He writes in it.”
“That notebook,” the superintendent said, “could be revealing.”
“What?” Jimmy’s father said.
CONT. READING: