The surrender to modern education: brainwashing
“There is a movement to make children into social animals, but not just that. The objective is to make them good social animals, and better than good—the best and most wonderful, special, special, special social animals… and in the process, to cherish them, to profess great love for them—when love is ALREADY a given. When you pile sloppy sentiment on top of what is already naturally there, you’re selling a child a grotesque counterfeit, and he knows it. He either invents his own false sentiments, in order to have a role in the farce, or he rebels at a deep level. Either way, he’s confused. He doesn’t understand these insane overreaching adults.” (The Underground, Jon Rappoport)
It may be hard for today’s parents to believe, but millions of children in America came through the public education system in the 1940s and '50s, and learned the basics—without a shred of cheery happy rainbow goo-goo decorations and slogans on the walls of classrooms.
Learning as seduction did not exist. Learning as “get the child interested” didn’t exist.
It wasn’t important or necessary to “uplift the child.”
Audio-visual aids were entirely absent.
Nor were teachers concerned with producing little humanitarians. There was no instruction in “getting along” or “relationships.” Or “cooperation.”
No values of any kind were taught. They were learned at home and on the playground, without the presence of teachers.
Children who misbehaved to the point of disrupting the classroom were sent away. Warned, suspended, expelled. Otherwise, behaviorism didn’t exist.
Social agendas? Political agendas? Medical agendas? Psychological agendas? Sex education? Group projects? Expressing feelings? Sharing? Never heard of it.
Teachers taught their subjects. Students learned. That was the beginning and end of school.
Reading, writing, math. No grading on a curve.
There was very little nasty competition. Students wanted to achieve (or they didn’t). They knew how well they were doing by learning the material, and by test grades.
The text books were old-fashioned. Many were used, second-hand. Publishers hadn’t yet invented the scam of peddling new books with “new formulations and methods” every few years.
A text book covered a subject in obvious small increments. New concept introduced; many student exercises, designed to illustrate the concept in action. Then, next new concept, with exercises. And so on.
The teacher would explain each new concept, and show how it worked on the blackboard. The whole class would do some of the relevant exercises from the book.
The remaining exercises would be done as homework. The next day: turn in the homework for grading. Take a quiz on yesterday’s lesson. Go on to a new lesson.
The teachers managed to supervise this process without complaining that it wasn’t creative, without having a nervous breakdown.
Creativity and imagination for the students? This was launched through gaining the rock-solid ability to read a book. A student would read a novel on his own and travel to another world.
Education was simple, straightforward. Yes, it was hard work, and yes, there were deficiencies, particularly in the study of history, and in the absence of instruction in logic, but all in all it worked.
It was understood, in every classroom, that sufficient numbers of drills, exercises, and tests were necessary for learning to take place. There was no way around it.
“We need more money” wasn’t an excuse or a compliant or a justification for failure to teach.
If a student got Fs, he repeated the grade, or went to summer school to catch up. No one was graduated on the basis of mere attendance.
“Self-esteem” didn’t exist. Children weren’t “special.” They certainly weren’t “world citizens.”
Again, no one taught values. That would have been considered meddling. Brainwashing.
By the 1940s, the agenda of the Carnegie and Rockefeller Foundations had certainly taken hold. There was no instruction in the Constitution. There was no instruction in individual citizenship in a Republic. All that had been wiped out. Courses in art and music were pathetic shadows of the real thing.
Nevertheless, learning took place. Students achieved. They gained confidence. They weren’t viewed as little mind-control objects. Socialization wasn’t a goal.
In my public school, a student could choose to study Latin, beginning in the 7th grade. No one blinked or thought it was strange. It was understood that if you really wanted to understand English, you took Latin.
Then, in the 1960s, a shift occurred. It was planned. Schools (and willing parents) took on the job of teaching children to be good people. That was the prime mission. Learning was a secondary goal. After all, “saving the world” required more good people.
There was just one problem. Children didn’t want to become good people. They wanted to be what they were. They wanted to learn, play, explore, imagine. Children didn’t have a natural social agenda. They hadn’t sprung from the womb with a full-blown ideology. “Greatest good for the greatest number” wasn’t their constant companion.
That devious program (who decides what the greatest good is?) belonged to educators and parents and bureaucrats and foundations and technocrats and Globalists.
Parents were the worst offenders, because they were the closest to their children. They had the greatest impact. If they weren’t really about giving their children freedom and responsibility and power, if they were really interested in creating little living models…they wreaked havoc.
Let’s face it, it’s a dumbshow. Populated by moral tricksters. Opportunists. “How can we intervene and show children how to get along, how to be kind and generous and tolerant and blind to differences between people? How can we educate them to want a better world? How can we blunt their natural curiosity and substitute a perception of vague endless equality? How can we make them into mind-controlled angels? How can we manufacture planetary citizens? Surely, this what children want to be. They just don’t know it. So we’ll bring it out in them.”
The word “educate” comes from the Latin. Duco: I lead. E or ex: Out of, from. To lead from. To educe, “bring out something latent.”
Pretending to educe a fabricated and synthetic quality of “goodness” from children by teaching it and imposing it is a recipe for disaster. It might save the planet, but then the planet would become the Home of the Androids.
Make good little androids, suffer the consequences.
War, at every level.