by Ralph Maltese | Nov 19, 2017 | Uncategorized
A Modest Proposal Redux
“Guns don’t kill people
People Kill people”
How many times have I heard that mantra from opponents of any sort of gun control. These same guardians of our rights cite the second amendment:
“A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the People to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.”
I used to argue that the constitution was meant to grow with the times hence the ability to create amendments. We don’t have a standing militia. We now have a standing army, standing navy, and standing air force (which the founding fathers could not have imagined). I don’t think having me as part of a standing militia would be a good idea. First, they would have to change the term “Minute Men” to “Hour Men,” or even “Century Men.” Secondly, if we were invaded by a foreign power strong enough to have the audacity to land troops on American soil, I don’t think I would stand a chance against highly trained soldiers or against missiles, no matter what weapon I was brandishing.
Thirdly, the word “infringed” in the amendment does not mean we cannot have laws governing what kind of arms.
In my wrong thinking days I believed that the Constitution was meant to grow as opposed to the strict constructionists or strict interpreters of the Constitution who believed everything should stay the same as in 1791 when the second amendment was ratified. I mean, the Founding Fathers recognized the future need for change by providing for amendments in the first place. So, again in my wrong thinking days, I thought why couldn’t we amend the amendment? We could also satisfy the strict interpreters by amending the second amendment to “bear arms but only muskets.” This would appease those stuck in 1791. A crack British infantryman could load and shoot a musket 5 times in one minute, and fire at a range of fifty to seventy five yards. Not quite up to the firepower of an AK-47, but, hey, I thought, you can’t be anchored to the thinking of colonial America and expect modern weaponry.
“Guns don’t kill people
People Kill people”
I also used to argue that one reason why America seems to want to return to the lawless climate of Deadwood in the 1870’s was American exceptionalism. We seem to possess this narrow-minded view that we cannot learn from other nations. An example: In 1996 an Australian man entered a café in Port Arthur, Tasmania and killed 35 people and wounded 23 more. This spurned Australia’s citizens to initiate stronger gun control laws. “the Australian government ‘banned automatic and semiautomatic firearms, adopted new licensing requirements, established a national firearms registry, and instituted a 28-day waiting period for gun purchases. It also bought and destroyed more than 600,000 civilian-owned firearms, in a scheme that cost half a billion dollars and was funded by raising taxes.’ The entire overhaul, Friedman pointed out, took just months to implement.
The number of mass shootings in Australia—defined as incidents in which a gunman killed five or more people other than himself, which is notably a higher casualty count than is generally applied for tallying mass shootings in the U.S.—dropped from 13 in the 18-year period before 1996 to zero after the Port Arthur massacre. Between 1995 and 2006, gun-related homicides and suicides in the country dropped by 59 percent and 65 percent, respectively, though these declines appear to have since leveled off. Two academics who have studied the impact of the reform initiative estimate that the gun-buyback program saves at least 200 lives each year, according to The New York Times.”
There were originally Australians opposed to any gun control, but the results spoke for themselves. As one gun control supporter argued: ‘We register cars. We register boats.’ But this time we added ‘We even register dogs. So what’s the problem in registering guns?’” https://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2017/10/australia-gun-control/541710/
And we register ice cream trucks. A number of years ago ice cream trucks were virtually banned in an American city because a child was harmed.
Injury to Child Leaving Ice-Cream Truck Did Not Result from Dangerous Condition or Nuisance Created by California City
When she ran across the street after buying ice cream from an ice-cream truck, Kaila Pekarek was hit by a van and injured. Kaila and her sister sued the driver of the ice- cream truck, the driver of the vehicle that hit Kaila, and the City of San Diego (city). The plaintiffs claimed the city maintained its street in a “dangerous condition” and created a “nuisance” by allowing ice-cream trucks to operate on city streets. The Superior Court granted the city’s motion for summary judgment. Acting on the plaintiffs’ appeal, the Court of Appeal affirmed
http://www.usroads.com/journals/rilj/9708/ri970802.htm
And Americans are not the only ones who recognize the potential harm in ice cream trucking.
In Ireland “A government politician has called for ice-cream vans to be regulated.
Fine Gael senator Catherine Noone today warned that the “persistent use of chimes” of ice cream vans represent an “aggressive form of selling”.
Ms Noone said she has been contacted by parents who claim ice cream vans visit their estates up to five times per day.
The Dublin senator said she believes the “pester power” of these vans are adding to the issue of child obesity.” https://www.independent.ie/irish-news/politics/senator-warns-of-dangers-of-ice-cream-truck-chimes-30346656.html
Guns don’t kill people
People Kill people”
Ice Cream Trucks don’t kill people
People kill people
And, in my blissful ignorance, I thought it rather silly that we can ban ice cream trucks but not assault rifles. Silly me. I used to support legislation on gun control based on facts like the following:
Costs of Gun Violence
- Gun violence impacts society in many ways: medical costs, costs of the criminal justice system, security precautions such as metal detectors, and reductions in the quality of life because of fear of gun violence.
- S. lifetime medical costs for gunshot injuries total an estimated $2.3 billion
- S. taxpayers pay for almost half ($1.1 billion or 49%) of lifetime medical costs for gunshot injuries
https://heedinggodscall.org/content/pfctoolkit-10
More Americans have died from gunshots in the last 50 years than in all of the wars in American history.
Since 1968, more than 1.5 million Americans have died in gun-related incidents, according to data from the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. By comparison, approximately 1.2 million service members have been killed in every war in U.S. history, according to estimates from the Department of Veterans Affairs and iCasualties.org, a website that maintains an ongoing database of casualties from the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.
“Guns don’t kill people
People Kill people”
https://www.nbcnews.com/storyline/las-vegas-shooting/more-americans-killed-guns-1968-all-u-s-wars-combined-n807156
A stat from 2015: According the nonprofit project the Gun Violence Archive, there were 12,562 gun deaths in 2014 and 9,959 in 2015 thus far. That’s a grand total of 301,797 firearm-related deaths in the past decade, compared to 71 deaths from domestic acts of terrorism.
Now, if 301.797 people in the U.S. had died from mosquito bites, I can guarantee that the federal government would legislate a program to nuke every swamp in the U.S. But the best our government does now is to bow our collected heads and keep the victims in our thoughts and prayers. If ten of our soldiers are killed on foreign soil, we have congressmen vowing to nuke the country in retaliation. But if one American kills ten Americans, we simply shrug our shoulders and say, “There’s the second amendment, ya know.” I used to believe there was something irrational in there. No longer. My mind is straight now….like Luke’s in Cool Hand Luke.
Another example of wrong thinking on my part involves my belief in democracy. I read the following:
-“- In the wake of the deadliest mass shooting in U.S. history, more Americans support tighter controls on guns. Six in 10 U.S. adults now support stricter laws covering the sale of firearms, up from 55% last year and the highest percentage since 2004.” http://news.gallup.com/poll/220595/support-stricter-gun-laws-edges.aspx?g_source=position5&g_medium=related&g_campaign=tiles
So, in my wrong thinking, I reasoned that since most Americans were in favor of gun control legislation, why don’t we have gun control legislation? That was until right thinking taught me about the power of money and corrupt politicians and the realities of pseudo-democracies. Our Republic does not bow to the will of the people—it bows to the will of the economically powerful. So much for eighth grade civics. Which leads me to my modest proposal:
If you can’t beat them, join them. Opponents of any form of gun control must envision the inevitable future where everyone is packing weapons of mass destruction, a future where all arguments, even disputations over minor things like bumping into someone in a crowded hallway is settled in a blaze of gunfire and death. As an educator, we must prepare our children for this future. So my proposal is to throw out reading and writing and arithmetic from the elementary school curriculum. Instead, teach the kindergarteners how to brace an M-16 against the shoulder to absorb the recoil, how to load a clip into an Uzi, and how to breakdown, strip clean, and reassemble an AK 47 assault rifle—while blindfolded. Bulldoze the outdoor recess areas and set up a rifle range.
In social studies teach the little ones the Stand Your Ground laws, so that if any one of them is offended by a classmate, say for “looking at me funny,” then he or she can resolve the issue with a quick draw. Since every student will be packing heat, bullies will have to think twice, or they will have to augment their arsenal which should stimulate an arms race in all schools in the nation thus providing an economic boon to gun manufacturers. Which is really what our lack of gun control is all about anyway. How can that be bad? Some people might argue that quite a few students might be victims of the almost daily shootouts, but there is an upside to that as well: Class size will diminish.
As for the victims and their families, we’ll do what we do now—and that is all we seem to do—-keep them in our thoughts and prayers. Some might argue that putting assault rifles in the hands of children is irresponsible. I would counter thusly: 1) it is not any more irresponsible than allowing people with histories of violence or severe mental illness or anger mismanagement. 2) Guns don’t kill people, people kill people and, therefore, it would be irresponsible to not educate our little people on how to blow away other little people.
After the church shooting in Texas, President Trump said, “Don’t forget, if it wasn’t for the citizen who carried a gun and shot the mass shooter, more people would have been killed.” During my wrong thinking days I would have wondered how much damage either the citizen or the mass shooter(mentally disturbed/recently unemployed/terrorist…how come all the mass shooters seem to be men? Don’t women get angry?) could have been done if neither had guns….how much death can second graders accomplish with only a spitball?
So what do you say to my modest proposal? Come on, parents. Put away those silly, non-functional stuffed animals and take your second grader to the nearest gun show to buy his/her first weapon of mass destruction. Be a proud American. The second amendment is intended to guarantee the rights of every American to inflict pain, suffering, mayhem, grief and death on every other American. Many of our soldiers and sailors and air force warriors have died to defend that right. Many more citizens have died because of that right. So what do you say, America? My proposal is no worse than the reality you have fashioned. We are already killing our children by our drive to make a profit at all costs, by our smugness in not learning how other naitons deal with the problem, and by our stubborn adherence to a post-colonial 1791 concern. IF you support my modest proposal, contact your legislator…or just sit and think and pray.
And though I am right-thinking now, some tidbit of reason still nags at me. It is a syllogistic problem really.
Guns Don’t Kill People
People Kill People
But guns allow one person to kill easily many many people.
by Ralph Maltese | Nov 5, 2017 | Uncategorized
Miss Meg
“I Touch the Future…I Teach.”
Christa McAuliffe Teacher/Astronaut
We See What We Think We Know
One of the perks of teaching something new for the first time is that you have to become a student again, learning all you can about a subject. When I was asked to teach a high school humanities class, I began a crash course in art history (a weakness in my collegiate engineering background). One text that made a lasting impression on me was E.F. Gombrich’s Art and Illusion. One of Gombrich’s major tenets involves “schemata,” the preconceived vision of the world that dictates day-to-day operations. In Art and Illusion, Gombrich poses this essential question: “Why is it that different ages and different nations have represented the visible world in such different ways?” Interesting question. ”At the heart of Gombrich’s theory is the notion of ‘schemata,’ that is, the idea that the artist ‘begins not with his visual impression but with his idea or concept’ and that the artist adjusts this idea to fit, as well as it can, the object, landscape, or person before him or her. Gombrich calls this theory ‘making and matching.’” http://www.encyclopedia.com/arts/culture-magazines/art-and-illusion-study-psychology-pictorial-representation
We paint what we know. For example, a famous Japanese painter (as Huck Finn is prone to say, “I disremember his name.”) fell in love with the coastal landscapes of the American Northwest.
In his paintings, which he completed on his return to Japan, he caught the beauty of ocean meeting land except for one detail—the trees were not evergreens but Ginkgos, a Japanese tree. His schemata required he paint “tree” and the most familiar was, well, what he was familiar with. A better example: You just enter your home after an evening at the movies. You walk in your living room and see what you expect to see—your schemata—your living room. Split seconds pass and then your brain begins to distinguish between your schemata and reality: a picture tilted, a chair overturned, muddy tracks on the carpet. “We’ve been robbed!!”
My point is that our schemata saw the room in the first few seconds as we expected to see it. I would enter a classroom and expect to see Harry in the first row, first seat. And that is what I saw until my brain realized it was Mark who usurped Harry in the assigned seat.
Growing up in the Bronx, the only part of the evening news that I paid attention to was the weather forecast by Tex Antoine who, as he predicted the weather, drew Mr. Weatherman on an easel. When he mentioned the probability of “patchy fog,” I heard “Apache fog,” the fog being used as cover as Geronimo and cohorts crawled up to the fort in preparation for an attack. I had a penchant for romance in those days….maybe still. My schemata was shaped by hours spent watching westerns and reading James Fenimore Cooper. I heard what I knew—or thought I knew. I was so disappointed when I learned it was “patchy” fog—so unromantic.
Imagine that a friend tells you, “I am taking you to an exciting amusement park. Ready? Let’s go.” Your mind draws on your schemata of what an amusement park is supposed to be…roller coasters, neon lights, swirling rides, and cotton candy. When you reach your friend’s destination, you find yourself standing in a cemetery. Now your friend may argue that reading the inscriptions on ancient tombstones may be amusing, but the cemetery contradicts your schemata of what an amusement park should be.
Amusement Park?
Confusion sometimes occurs when one person’s schemata does not jive with another person’s schemata. Combine this with the human tendency to hear what we expect to hear and not what was really said, and the potential for embarrassment is exponentially multiplied. Take my eleventh grade high school English assignment. Context is necessary here. I was fortunate to have three excellent and distinctly different high school English teachers (who were my inspiration to choose teaching as a profession). Mr. Murphy taught me the sometimes humorous concept of irony, especially as it applied to literature. Mrs. Farrell honed my organizational and research skills. Miss Megerdichian taught me that behind every true thought there is passion. Young and vivacious and possessing a smile that made you feel as if the world was a glorious place to live in, Miss Meg was the first teacher in my student career who broke the class into groups and assigned a collaborative learning project….an experience that I later incorporated into my own teaching (although I learned to structure the collaborative projects quite differently from Miss Meg). She believed that we could learn from each other because she also had faith that we had something to offer.
To supplement her teaching income Miss Meg worked in a book store in Union City. Several of us would take the bus to go visit her on a Saturday or Sunday. One visit, Miss Meg was alone in the store, and Steve asked her if she was ever lonely working there. She replied as her arm majestically swept the shelves and the books they held. “How can I be alone with all these beautiful soulers surrounding me?”
One day I brought my writing journal, and asked her to read some of my poems. She read my work as if what she was reading was the most important document in the universe. After a while she looked up at me. “Your poems are very personalized and introspective.” I knew that meant my poems were crapola, but it didn’t matter. She taught me how to use very very very very faint praise to encourage students, a lesson that helped me as an instructor. That Monday she lent me some books of poetry and essays from her personal library. “Based on what I read of your poetry, I thought you might enjoy these poets, and in your essays you might work at studying the writing styles of these authors. Examine the figures of speech they use.” Miss Meg told me I should keep reading and writing, and that while I read I should constantly make connections to the world I knew of which was very little. Her courageous break with conventional teaching methods, her inherent and palpable kindness, and her passion for learning inspired us. She called us her “beautiful soulers,” which, in our adolescent penchant for cynicism and self-deprecation, shortened to her “BS’ers.” She made us think expansively and encouraged us to believe we truly had something deep and important to offer the future. She informed the class that a collaborative entreprise was our next assignment.
I had plenty of motivation to perform well on this project. First, like every other male in the class, I had a crush on Ms. Meg. I learned that Miss Megerdichian’s ancestry was Armenian. I wanted to go to Armenia. I wondered if Armenians would love non-Armenians. Second, Melody Ann Appleby was assigned to my group. Melody Ann Appleby was a young lady with lips perpetually pursed, with long blonde hair that draped her cheerleader shoulders and blue eyes that pierced every young lad’s soul and twisted his heart into a spasm of unrelenting yearning.
Asking Melody Ann Appleby to a school dance or social gala was out of the question–she was so totally out of my league in that category, but, if I dazzled her with my academic skills, there was an outside chance (okay, a long shot) that she would accept an invitation to go to a basketball game or movie or bowling at the Broad Avenue Alley….or at least recognize my existence, even if it was by rejecting my invitation to the bowling alley.
Ms. Meg verbally assigned our group the topic of euthanasia. (As a teacher I learned that topics are boring and not very forensic, but questions are interesting and explorable—“Lincoln’s Assassination” is blah, but “What future would our nation have experienced if Lincoln had served out his second term” is ripe for investigation. Most of my assignments as a teacher were framed as questions for my students.) Our group conversation went something like this:
Moe: “Anyone know anything about euthanasia?”
Silence.
Joe: “When’s it due?”
Floe: “Miss Meg said the research was due next Monday, and then we collectively write the paper.”
Moe: “Who wants to do the research?”
Floe: “Miss Meg says we should share the work.”
Joe: “I got basketball practice.” Joe shot Melody Ann Appleby a wink. “Playoffs in two weeks.”
Moe: “I work at the A&P after school. Got no time.”
I stepped up. “I’ll gather the research.” I nodded emphatically in the direction of Melody Ann Appleby.
Melody Ann Appleby sat silent, her posture reflecting the goddess-like composure of a Greek statue, her eyes (and maybe thoughts) focused on the fire drill instructions posted on the bulletin board.
I spent every night for the next week in the public library researching our topic until closing time. And these were the days before Xerox and Cutting and Pasting…..using real books, no less. I had to read the article and take notes, summarizing what I read (a high level thinking activity). And pages, no—reams, of notes I took. It was quite a load what with all my other calculus and social studies and physics homework, but my goal was to impress Miss Meg with my stellar research skills and to augment the possibility of Melody Ann Appleby learning my name.
When the day came for all the groups to reconvene and share the research (in our group I was doing the sharing), I was ready. I plopped a box that had previously held twelve heads of iceberg lettuce from the local Shopwise on our group’s table, proud of the depth and breadth of the acres of research I had gathered on our topic. I couldn’t sit still. I was anxious for Miss Meg to see what I had done, to be the recipient of one of her approving smiles and for Melody Ann Appleby to be dazzled by my academic thoroughness.
Each of my collaborators reached into the box and fetched a piece of research. My eyes were only focused on Melody Ann Appleby who reluctantly retrieved a thick packet of my notes and, fatalistically, fighting the burden of boredom, began to read. I waited. After a minute or so I saw her nose twitch slightly and scrunch up. Maybe it was the smell of decayed lettuce that I had failed to totally eradicate from the box. Melody Ann Appleby looked perplexed.
Suddenly I noticed Miss Meg at my side. “May I look at your research?”
I nodded admiringly.
Miss Meg asked, “Who collected all this?”
Four hands pointed at me. I smiled my “Aw shucks” smile.
Miss Meg looked at the first page of one of my packets. I waited.
Suddenly, and totally unexpectedly, Miss Meg snickered. A real snicker.
Seconds, eons really, passed. I looked up and with some concern noticed Miss Meg was trying to stifle a guffaw. This was puzzling. I could not recall anything funny in the research I had painstakingly gathered over the last seven nights.
Miss Meg stifled another laugh. I looked down and looked up again. This was not the response I anticipated.
Miss Meg put her lovely hand on my shoulder and looked down at me the way a pet owner looks at her small puppy dog about to be put to sleep.
“Ralph,” Miss Meg’s brown eyes glistened. “Your topic was ‘euthanasia,’ not ‘Youth in Asia.’”
What the hell was “euthanasia?” My schemata incorporated “youth” and “Asia,” but “euthanasia?”
Miss Meg gently inserted the needle that would inject the invisible liquid that would inflame my humiliation and dash all hopes of my keeping Melody Ann Appleby out of the gutter in the Broad Avenue Bowling Alley. “Ralph, euthanasia means ‘mercy killing.’”
My face red with embarrassment, the blood coursing through my veins bringing disgrace and degradation to every cell of my body, I thought, “Then why the hell didn’t you say ‘mercy killing?!’”
Tip to new teachers: Always issue written instructions as well as verbal instructions. Make certain you present the verbal instructions before you distribute the written instructions. Otherwise the students will be reading the assignment instead of listening to you.
Miss Meg tried her best to soften the blow. “Ralph, you certainly did a great deal of work here.”
I certainly did. Want to know what was the legal driving age for young people in Cambodia? I had it in my research. Curious about dental diseases specific to kids in Thailand? I had it in my research. Interested in the dietary habits of adolescents in Japan? I had it in my research. Always wonder what the incidence of acne was among teenagers in China? I had it in my research.
Miss Meg’s “praise” did not prevent my noticing the giggling that circulated the classroom. I was more than ready for having mercy killing…euthanasia…administered to me.
Since the earliest primitive man drew on his schemata of where he expected his next meal would be, say a filet of wooly mammoth, there has been the occasional need to change our schemata based on new information. Now, with no grand studies to support my assertion, I believe that that dynamic in American culture has changed.
Growing up we shared the news from three television stations, and this news was basically the same.
At the water cooler we discussed the same shows everyone saw, say the Johnny Carson show when Ed Ames fires that tomahawk and hits the wooden target at a place (the crotch) where Johnny says, “You couldn’t hurt him any more than there.”
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We could argue that we liked Ike or didn’t like Ike, but we were arguing from basically the same database of shared information. No longer.
I think that in our modern culture, people tend to watch “news” or listen to pundits who preach to their schemata—and there are plenty of politicians and talk show hosts who willingly frame a message to appeal to certain schemata. People tune in to what they want to hear. The problem with this is that it curtails dialogue between opposing views. Truth and reality become casualties. We don’t seek the truth. In fact many of us don’t research at all. We simply seek opinions and media that verify our schemata, no matter how wrong what we think we know may be. The “truth” is whatever we want to believe it to be.
Sometimes it is necessary to challenge one’s schemata, to prepare for other possibilities. Early in my teaching career I realized that my schemata of what teaching was…teacher talk, students listen, teacher at the center of the classroom, students sitting in neat little rows—needed rethinking because I did not like the results of that preconception.
The problem with questioning what one thinks he or she knows is that it requires effort. It is so much easier to sail along with the tide. And sail along we do, modern voters only watching the newscasts and talk shows that fit their schemata of the way things are, ignoring any potential contradictions.
Before we can resume real dialogue in our culture, we must be willing to suspend our schemata of the “way things are,” and listen to other possibilities. Otherwise, we only read research that affirms our beliefs which are, after all, beliefs. But, as I tried to teach my students, there are opinions and there are education opinions, and the latter require research, facts, from neutral resources. I can have the opinion tax dollars should be allocated to remove the elephants roaming the New York City subways, but I doubt I would get support for that opinion. Just bellowing a view does not make it valid.
Even though the Great Euthanasia Debacle of 1963 was the culminating embarrassment of a high school career that was replete with humiliating incidents, I am eternally grateful to my English teacher, Ms. Meg who taught me one of the most important lessons in life—to constantly challenge what I thought I knew, to believe that a convention or status quo may have a reason (though not necessarily a moral one) for existing but to have value must continue to be challenged. Ms. Meg also taught me that all true passion is thoughtful, and all thought, to be held with conviction, possesses passion. To this day I thank her for her teaching, her inspiration, and her kindness. She is my Mrs. Calabash (from Jimmy Durante fame.)
Good Night Miss Meg, wherever you are.
