Mr. Cuddy Wants To Smack Your Tuddy
Nov. 20th, 2007 09:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraRobin had a substitute English teacher last week, a certain Mr. Cuddy. The class was doing Anne Frank. In the course of class discussion, Mr. Cuddy let it be known that he thought concentration camps had gotten a bad rap. In certain circumstances – minus the showerheads of course – they could be useful. For example: concentration camps would be a perfect solution to "the Mexican problem" (his words.)
"He was being sarcastic, right?" I asked hopefully. "Saying something outrageous to provoke classroom discussion?"
Robin laughed. "No-o. And about half the class is Mexican!"
Somehow in the midst of this invigorating discussion, the origins of mankind came up. Mr. Cuddy told the kids the default model is white.
"Then the stupider humans started spending a lot of time in the sun so they turned brown," Robin added helpfully.
"You're kidding, right?" I said. "Please tell me you're kidding."
"Nope!" said Robin. "And he made us learn this rhyme:
My name is Mister Cuddy
I want to be your buddy
But if you fail to study
I'll smack you on your tuddy!"
"Tuddy!" I said. ""What the hell is a 'tuddy'?"
Jesus. No wonder California is at the very bottom of the national public school rankings. And thank God some other irate parent took up that battle – Mr. Cuddy has since been suspended. Had he not been, I would have been spending a great deal of time on the phone this week. God knows I don't want the Mr. Cuddys of this world teaching my children. But getting them removed takes a lot of time and effort.
The big puzzlement is how the hell they're hired in the first place.
I continue to feel… uneasy. Uneasiness has crystallized around a single phrase: We're fiddling while Rome burns. I'm not sure whether this is the royal we, the papal we, the editorial we or the "we" that isn't me at all, but us as a country, as a culture, as a civilization.
The synopses of the latest UN climate report scared the shit out of me. Half the carbon dioxide emissions created since the Industrial Revolution was absorbed by the oceans, raising the acidity. But life only exists within a very narrow pH range. Plus the oceans are close to their saturation point, and when that's reached global warming effects start to accelerate. Do I see it within my own lifetime? Well, by my calculations – astrological, since you ask – I die in twenty-seven years. So maybe.
Certainly Max and Robin see it.
And their children are devastated by it.
"Well, there's a very easy solution to that problem, Mom," said Max with whom I had lunch yesterday.
"What's that?"
"I just won't have children!"
"Oh, don't do that! My DNA wants world domination."
Max laughed. "Try splicing it into a cockroach," he said.
"He was being sarcastic, right?" I asked hopefully. "Saying something outrageous to provoke classroom discussion?"
Robin laughed. "No-o. And about half the class is Mexican!"
Somehow in the midst of this invigorating discussion, the origins of mankind came up. Mr. Cuddy told the kids the default model is white.
"Then the stupider humans started spending a lot of time in the sun so they turned brown," Robin added helpfully.
"You're kidding, right?" I said. "Please tell me you're kidding."
"Nope!" said Robin. "And he made us learn this rhyme:
My name is Mister Cuddy
I want to be your buddy
But if you fail to study
I'll smack you on your tuddy!"
"Tuddy!" I said. ""What the hell is a 'tuddy'?"
Jesus. No wonder California is at the very bottom of the national public school rankings. And thank God some other irate parent took up that battle – Mr. Cuddy has since been suspended. Had he not been, I would have been spending a great deal of time on the phone this week. God knows I don't want the Mr. Cuddys of this world teaching my children. But getting them removed takes a lot of time and effort.
The big puzzlement is how the hell they're hired in the first place.
I continue to feel… uneasy. Uneasiness has crystallized around a single phrase: We're fiddling while Rome burns. I'm not sure whether this is the royal we, the papal we, the editorial we or the "we" that isn't me at all, but us as a country, as a culture, as a civilization.
The synopses of the latest UN climate report scared the shit out of me. Half the carbon dioxide emissions created since the Industrial Revolution was absorbed by the oceans, raising the acidity. But life only exists within a very narrow pH range. Plus the oceans are close to their saturation point, and when that's reached global warming effects start to accelerate. Do I see it within my own lifetime? Well, by my calculations – astrological, since you ask – I die in twenty-seven years. So maybe.
Certainly Max and Robin see it.
And their children are devastated by it.
"Well, there's a very easy solution to that problem, Mom," said Max with whom I had lunch yesterday.
"What's that?"
"I just won't have children!"
"Oh, don't do that! My DNA wants world domination."
Max laughed. "Try splicing it into a cockroach," he said.
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