When Is Enough Too Much?

Lil Man goes to a private school. He goes to a private school because his Mom and Dad believe in hugs and swats. In public school anymore, teachers can no more hug a child than they can discipline them. His school has very clear cut discipline practices. There are warnings and there are displinary marks. There are also good marks given. Enough bad marks warrant a trip to the principal's office. There, the child will either be assigned scripture lines to copy (maximum of 10 times per scripture per specific offense) or, if warranted, swats will be administered.

Lil Man has written more scripture this year than I think I knew at his age. So far, the only swats he has received have been administered outside of school by his mom and, once, by me.

I picked him up yesterday afternoon. He told me that he had gotten one warning and two good marks. For such a reasonably good day, he seemed awfully crestfallen. I asked him what was wrong and he said he had lines to write. I asked him why, if he had no bad marks, he had lines to write. He said it was from a warning the day before. I asked him what kind of lines and he said he had to write 100 lines. 100 lines? 100 lines.

I asked him who had given him 100 lines. He said Mrs. H. Mrs. H is his teacher and we love her and she has been absent all week with a sick child. I asked if she was back and he said that no she wasn't and Mrs. B, the substitute said that Mrs. H said.

Now, if you have ever had a conversation with an 8 year old who thinks he is in trouble, the above conversation did not go smoothly nor swiftly. I got more and more frustrated and finally said, "fine" because the whole thing made no sense to me. Lines come from the office. They have never come from the classroom.

We got to my house and Lil Man did his homework. He had 10 sentences to write for spelling and then 11 pages to read in his reading book. I then had him start on his punishment until his mom got off work and we could discuss it.

Julie, and I give her credit for this, is not one to automatically take her child's side over those in authority. She has never, that I know of, gone to the school to complain that they were too hard on her baby. She has gotten on the child for being disrespectful of and disobedient to those in authority.

We talked it over and decided that Lil Man had obviously done something to merit punishment.

We talked it over and decided that Lil Man obviously was not going to be able to write

100 times before his 8:30 bedtime. We (Julie and I) had once given Lil Man's sister 100 lines to write but she was 12. Her sentence was also shorter and grammatically correct.

He got it written 34 times.

His school starts at 8 but the kids can be there at 7:45. His mom starts work at 8. I offered, and she accepted my offer, to go in and talk to Mrs. or Dr. M.

Mrs. M agreed that 100 sentences was a bit much for 2nd graders. She told me that the administration was unaware of the punishment until after school was over. She told me that she was unsure what the outcome would be but that they would be looking into it and that Lil Man would not get in trouble for not finishing his punishment.

We shall see.

Headline from CNNPolitics.com

"Kennedy aide: Romney's views on religion very different from JFK's"

You think? Catholic? Mormon? Views on religion different?

New toy - maybe

I love this new "thing - a - ma - bobber" but I cannot make it work in gmail! GRRRRRRRRRR!

Evil or a Poor Choice?

When did wrong become a poor choice? When did a choice cease being wrong? Where did right go?

I posted a couple of days ago about trying to explain Hitler and swastikas (and what they symbolize) to an 8 year old. I became involved in a conversation about the same topic and said that I had told lil man that the swastika was a bad sign.

The person I was talking to, let’s call them George, said there were no bad signs, just like there were no bad people. There were just people who had made poor choices.

I waited a couple of minutes so that I would not just erupt and then asked George if he did not think that Hitler was evil. He said no, that no one was evil, that Hitler had just made some poor choices, that evil did not exist.

I was dumbstruck.

I know that philosophically, I tend to oversimplify things. I always have.

In my world, where God reigns supreme, there is good.

Having said that, there is also evil.

Whether we choose to invite that evil into our lives is indeed our choice. I do think, though, that evil needs to be identified as evil. I think that characterizing Hitler, for example, as someone who made poor choices is minimizing the evil that the man wrought. It is also, conversely then, minimizing the good that is God.

I think Hitler, and his legacy, epitomize evil in 20th century history.

I hope that, at the end, he repented of his sins and, doubt not, they were sins.

Only God is huge enough to love and forgive such darkness.

I am not. I cannot understand such evil. I cannot imagine inviting such darkness into your soul and mind. I cannot conceive of not recognizing evil as evil.

Here is how Webster defines evil:
Main Entry: 1evil Pronunciation: \'ē-vəl, British often & US also 'ē-(ˌ)vil\ Function: adjective Inflected Form(s): evil·er or evil·ler; evil·est or evil·lest Etymology: Middle English, from Old English yfel; akin to Old High German ubil evil Date: before 12th century
1 a: morally reprehensible : sinful, wicked b: arising from actual or imputed bad character or conduct 2 aarchaic : inferior b: causing discomfort or repulsion : offensive c: disagreeable 3 a: causing harm : pernicious b: marked by misfortune : unlucky
— evil adverb archaic
— evil·ly \-(l)ē\ adverb
— evil·ness \-nəs\ noun

Morally reprehensible; sinful; wicked

Yep, just sounds a little more serious than “poor choices”, doesn’t it? Is that what happened?

When we, as a society, became more concerned with a child’s self-esteem than with their moral fortitude, did we just ease away from all the words that made US uncomfortable?

Maybe it’s time for us to say, “What you did was wrong. That was bad. That is a sin.” instead of ,"You could have made a better choice.”

I don’t have the answers.

I just know that, as sure as I am that there is good, there is evil.
As sure as I am that there is God, there is Satan.

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” Irish politician Edmund Burke (1729 – 1797).

Why I live in this parallel universe.

Before I discovered blogging, I used to read 19 newspapers a day. I read them online. Newspapers from the area where I live, where I used to live, where friends live, where I want to live, etc.

I have been neglecting my news reading since I started getting more involved in the ever-growing circle of blogs that I now read daily.

Today, I wanted to read about the California fires. We have friends and family living in the area. I went to the website for the San Francisco Chronicle. It is the newspaper that, when I was growing up north of San Francisco, we used to get on Sunday mornings on our way home from Mass.

While my political views are no longer exactly mirrored by this publication, it is still a newspaper that I trust.

There was, indeed, a lot of very good coverage on the fire(s).

Then, partway down the front page, were the AP headlines.



AP Headlines
Art Masterpiece Found in Trash
Parents Drown in Water Rescue
6 Elephants Electrocuted in India
Dad Accused of Meth Sippy Cup

I think that instead of reading these stories, I will just pray for all involved and go back to my nice, friendly circle of blogs.

What to do, what to do (Update)

First of all, thank you all for your comments and sympathy.

I took my other dog, Holly, to the vet yesterday and, while we were there, spoke to him about Mae. He had no suggestions but his assistant suggested that I call the city's animal control officer (he does not handle animal problems in the county unless it is a vicious dog). She thought he could shoot Mae with a tranquilizer and then we could get her to the vet.

I called him. He cannot tranq a dog who is not vicious. He suggested calling the sheriff's office.

I did. They suggested calling the animal control officer.

This is all just so deja vu. Went thought this not too long ago with a neighbor's horse.

He did suggest trapping Mae and then the sheriff's could call him and he would dispose of her. He said to call the Sheriff's Office and get a trap. I called. They have no traps. They're not sure what happened to them. They are gonna try and borrow one from the Animal Control Officer and then call me so I can pick it up. No one has any suggestions on how to make sure it is Mae in the trap.

So, once I have Mae in the trap, I will not call Animal Control to dispose of her. I will take her to the vet. the puppies will be aborted, and she will be spayed.

I love dogs. I love puppies. You literally cannot give away a dog in this town or a puppy. I cannot keep the puppies.

I am certain in my heart that God has a special treat for the assholes who do this to dogs and to those of us who love them. Otherwise, I would hunt them down and do unspeakable things to them.

Update on the update: The Sheriff's Office called. They can borrow a trap from the ACO but a deputy has to do it and then the deputy and the ACO and I all have to meet so that this can be handled. There are no deputies available but when there is, they will call me, and if the ACO is available and I can get off work, this will work. Hurray!

What to do, what to do

I am distraught.

Last year, some ignorant coward dumped a litter of 5 puppies at the business next to my house. My house was not there at the time, but it is now. 3 of the puppies were run over in the street but 2 survived. The guys at the wrecking yard put out food for the dogs when they thought about it.

When we moved in, we started feeding Maggie and Mae. They hang out at the wrecking yard or in our front yard with our dogs.

Maggie is a sweetheart. She is very friendly and touchable.

Mae is not. She IS a sweetheart and she would like to be friendly and touchable. She just cannot make herself let us touch her. She will sidle up to you and whine and whimper and follow you around and just darn near break your heart. She just won't let you touch her.

The only reason this is a problem is because puppies grow up to become dogs.

A little over a month ago, my daughter took Maggie to the vet and had her spayed. She would have had Mae done at the same time, but Mae will not come to anyone.

Mae came into heat, every male dog within 10 miles was at the wrecking yard (their Saint Bernard came into heat at the same time), and Mae is "with puppies".

Hence the quandary. What do I do?

I already own 3 dogs. I take care of 3 others. The county in which I reside does not have a shelter or an Animal Control Officer. I cannot get hold (literally) of Mae to take her to the vet. I cannot imagine, OK, unfortunately, yes, I can imagine, what will happen to the pups.

Any suggestions?

The most obvious, the one that sounds the worst but is probably the most humane, is to put her down. Given her refusal to let us touch her, this would entail shooting her. My heart is breaking and I can no longer think clearly.

Any suggestions?

Employee Etiquette

I know that I am older than dirt.

I know that I am not "with it".

I know that the phrase "with it" is probably not even "with it".

I know that I am irked, annoyed, upset, angry, disgruntled and just basically ticked off.

When I was entering the work force, there were rules. You were taught the rules and you learned the rules. There were rules for what went on your resume, what you wore to an interview, and on how to give notice.

To give notice, you submitted a written resignation, wherein you thanked your employer for the benefits of your experience there, told them you were leaving (regretfully, of course) and gave them a minimum of 2 weeks to find your replacement.

I was never taught that you could call your employer on the phone and say *insert whiny voice*, "I'm just not coming back."

Oh wait, I just figured it out.

I was taught.

I am heartsick today.

My old neighbors have 2 horses, Freckles, about whom I have written previously, and Stick.

Stick is an old brown horse. He is not flashy. He is not pushy. He has no particularly endearing qualities. He is, to paraphrase a vet I know, just a good old utility horse. He was, in his day, a hell of a roping horse.

Stick is 31 years old and dying. He is not dying gracefully nor with dignity. He is dying in 90 degree weather in a pasture. He is gaunt. He is unsteady on his legs. His coat is dull - what there is left of it. He is being attacked, with hooves and teeth, periodically by Freckles.

I had not seen Stick since we moved. I saw him last night when we went back to the old place to load some stuff. I cried. I cried most of the night and decided today to do something to help this poor animal.

I am not on good terms with Stick's owner. I asked my daughter, who works for the Sheriff's Dept., who I ought to call. She suggested the SPCA.

I tried. I learned that we have no local chapter of the SPCA. I called the local animal control officer and learned that they only work within the city limits. The Police Dept, who dispatches for animal control, suggested the Sheriff's Dept. The Sheriff's Dept., when I called, suggested the Police Dept. I explained that I had already spoken with them and I did finally get to speak to a deputy. I explained the situation to the deputy. He called me back and said that he had spoken to the property owners where the horse is and that the horse is old and sick and that the vet said there was nothing left to be done.

I told the deputy that I already knew all of that and that the horse needed to be assisted in dying. I told him that if I owned a firearm I would go and put a bullet through the horse's head myself. He said that he was sorry and suggested that I call the local Humane Society.

I did. I learned that our local Humane Society neither rescues nor houses rescued animals but that they will gladly accept donations to put their literature into our classrooms - you know, the literature about being kind to animals and taking care of them.

I no longer know what to do. I know there should be something else - I just don't know what it is.

I am heartsick.

Frustration

In an earlier blog, I mentioned 'in-progress' scrapbooks and working overtime.

I sent my daughter, this afternoon, to the local huge friggin' store that sells everything.

Sunday, I had left, on the digital camera intake machine, 179 photos to be developed. The machine did not print me a receipt. I asked the photo clerk and she assured me that I did not need a receipt, that that particular machine had not printed receipts in months and that all I had to do was come in and ask for my pictures by name (I should have named the pictures, dang it all).

Anyway, long story short, they do not have my pictures. They do not know where my pictures are. They do not know who I spoke to. They do not have any suggestions other than starting from the beginning.

I get off at 11:00 tonight. The store closes at 11:00 tonight.

The very helpful photo manager suggested that I come in during my workday tomorrow and she would see that I got my pictures for 1/2 price.

I downloaded the pictures into this very computer, ordered them online and will have them delivered to my house.

I do not know where I will be shopping for the foreseeable future but I think it's gonna be at least a couple of days before I go back to "the W---M--t".