Just Say What?

When my parents were growing up, people were warned about the dangers of nuclear war. The Soviet Union had an enormous amount of explosives with our names on them, and if things went south between our two nations, things would go seriously, seriously south.

When I was growing up, we were warned about the dangers of drug abuse. We were told to “Just Say No!” to pot and cocaine and all kinds of nasty substances, convinced that if we said “yes” or even “maybe” on occasion, our brains would end up like those pathetic eggs in the frying pan.

Now we are warned about the danger of not having dinner with our families. We are told to read to our children, to spend time with them, to set boundaries and not be afraid to tell them “no” every once in awhile.

If a society might be judged by the sustenance of its public service announcements, I fear we may in be for a rather rough century.

To begin with, we shouldn’t need to be told to read to our children. Since it’s nearly impossible to function in our society without a reasonable amount of literacy, not reading to a child is basically like saying “Why yes, I would like to wash your socks for the next forty years.” Besides that, since when do parents need tips on how and why to tell their children “no” to the ever-increasing amounts of dangers our world offers? If your kid doesn’t want to secretly punch you in the face every once in awhile, you probably aren’t doing your job.

The point is, there was a time when our government warned us about things we really needed to be warned about. As civilians, there wasn’t much we could do about the Soviet Union besides dig a hole in our backyard and stock it with canned beans. It was the government’s job to do the actual heavy lifting of the Cold War—espionage, nuclear armament, the occasional “replacement” of a foreign leader—that kind of thing. The problem was too big for us.

So, how did the role of government go from protecting us from an actual Red Menace to basically being your mom?

Some would argue that we’re at this point in our civilization because certain elements of our society have an idealized version of what they want the world to look like. According to this theory, these folks have, over the course of the last 234 years, hijacked the government in an organized attempt to make everyone the same as them. While I’m not a big proponent of conspiracy theories, a belief that is based in large part on the inability of even my wife and I to conspire to make a functional grocery list, I am willing to admit that there are groups of people who want to mold society into their own precious form.

But I don’t think that’s why we have giant billboards telling us not to shake our infants. I think a simpler and thus more reasonable answer is that our civilization, cumulatively, is becoming increasingly stupid.

Now, we don’t have time to discuss the numerous causes of this decline, though Jersey Shore, at the very least, must be alluded to. My focus here instead will be to use my own job to support an argument that the “Nanny” is not the main reason we’re living in the “Nanny State.”

Nature arbores a vacuum, as does public education. What I’ve witnessed and experienced in the last dozen years as a teacher is an increase in the duties my colleagues and I are expected to perform. Many tasks that were once assumed to be parental responsibilities or even the responsibility of the student themselves now fall into the teacher’s already-loaded laps.

For example, many kids don’t turn in their homework. Now, one might argue that students are given too much homework in the first place—though I doubt their homework-saturated contemporaries in many other industrialized countries would agree—but that is not the point. The point is, as a general rule, more students are doing less homework as the years go by. They’re refusing to turn it in or even to attempt it. Now, since homework is meant to function as both practice for the student and assessment for the teacher, it goes without saying that a student’s knowledge and grades suffer when they don’t do their assignment.

This has become so bad that our formerly eleven-minute homeroom period at the beginning of each day has been doubled. This allows a teacher to take a few moments each week to check in on each student, to take them aside, to discuss their grades and behavior with them individually.

What do the other twenty-four students in the class do at this time? Well, at best they read quietly. At worse they make profane gestures at anyone bored enough to pay attention.

Needless to say, they aren’t being instructed. And, since the school day itself hasn’t been extended by twenty-two minutes, time is taken out of every subject matter to make up for this period. That is nearly two hours of instructional time gone each week. Does that concern you? Considering how the United States ranks worldwide in science and math scores, it should.

Having said all that, I want to emphasize I don’t mind having a one-on-one conversation with these students. I like my job and I generally care about the students' well being. However, I went to college to teach history and English. Therein lies my expertise. It really isn’t my responsibility to remind each student that they need to do a better job of doing what they’re supposed to do in the first place.

Can you imagine a world where the check-out personnel at a grocery store, before ringing up your groceries, asked if you had actually budgeted for all the items you were purchasing? “You sure you need all three bags of these Twizzlers, sir? I assume you know those carbs aren’t from fiber.”

That store would go out of business.

So, some argue, this is yet another example of the public school as a strong arm of the state sticking its nose where it doesn't belong. Yet another example of big government run amuck.

To which I would counter, “We don’t like this anymore than you do.”

This program wasn’t put into place because teachers and administrators got a hankering over the summer to decrease instructional time and replace it with “Nanny talk.” We’re trying to meet a need. We’re trying to fill a vacuum put into place by what can only be described as half-ass parenting.

To be fair, I should point out that the element of society which often begrudges the state for sticking its nose where it doesn’t belong also, in general, does a good job of raising its own children. Thus, I can’t blame it for complaining. What I would like to do is remind everyone, though,—and this is particularly relevant as we approach the mid-term elections—that we live in a democracy. Ultimately, we are responsible for how our society functions.

Or does not function.

In order for a democratic government to govern a society, the society in question needs to first govern itself.

That starts at home. That starts around the dinner table when we ask our children what they learned in school. That starts when we turn off the television and make them, yes, make them, read to us. That starts when we tell them “No, you aren’t spending the night at Bobo’s house because Bobo’s parents are on probation for methamphetamine production and I love you too much to put you at risk, and if they want to call and cuss me out, here’s my number.”

It starts when we do what we’re supposed to do, and we stop imagining the government ought to have a program in place to do it for us.

Do you want smaller government? Do you want fewer taxes? Do you want your children being taught math instead of being babysat by an over-educated daycare provider?

We can accomplish all that within a half-generation, but don’t expect the government to accomplish it for us. They’re too busy holding our hands.