Kids (well, okay — “students”) on college campuses around the country have been protesting, claiming they are suffering grievously as a result of hearing ideas with which they disagree. To remedy that injustice, the victims are calling for and retreating to “safe spaces” where their delicate psyches cannot be assaulted by free speech guaranteed by the First Amendment. Starbucks, home of overpriced, pretentious, and yucky tasting coffee is offering similar “safe spaces” for the aggrieved to find safety and solace.
Are any of those disgruntled “thought deniers” on a scholarship, or are parents paying their tuition? Are any of them learning anything that will merit a worthwhile job in the real world?
Considering the costs of “higher education”, and what is often taught and learned under the guise of “higher education”, perhaps, as my son-in-law, Mr. Bob, cogently suggested, we should just give all kids a college diploma, straight out of high school, and send them out into the world to get an education in reality. That way, the diploma might eventually come to represent something of value.
The irrational call for “safe spaces” got me thinking that I need a “safe space” too. The idea appeals to my rebelliousness. It’s my time to be heard.
Son-in-law, Mr. Bob, who is dearly loved, and who lives with us, is prone to reminding me that I leave the garage door open and/or the refrigerator door ajar and I have decided that being told what I don’t want to hear is “hate speech”. I feel I need a “safe space” to retreat to so that I don’t have to hear about my faults and failures. Perhaps I was a bit harsh sticking it Starbucks for offering a “safe space” to the protesters– it may turn out to be a “safe space” for me when Mr. Bob gets on his holier-than-thou high horse and announces, “Miss Barbara, you left the garage door open again.” It’s sooooo hurtful, you know.
All of his “hate speech” is so unnecessary.
My thinking is this: If I leave the damn garage door open, or the refrigerator door ajar, don’t make a big deal about it. Just close it! Am I right to be indignant about that? Of course I am, particularly because Mr. Bob leaves the garage door open waaaaay more often than I do. Do I nag him about it? No. When he leaves the door open I just close it. No drama, no accusations.
I know it’s not good that I forget to close the garage door because where we live an open door invites all manner of wildlife to take up residence, including coyotes, but hey, I’m all about sharing. If the coyotes enjoy the bag of festering onions Mr. Bob left in the garage, they are welcome to it. It’s not the end of the world.
Upon further reflection, I really don’t need a “safe space” after all. I’ll simply tolerate Mr. Bob’s First Amendment right to tell me when I leave the garage door open. That’s what mature people do. They tolerate others who think and believe differently.
I feel sorry for clueless parents who provide their progeny with a useless “education”. They pay a terrible price for the dubious honor of shelling out hard earned money they scrimped and saved in order to boast, “Our kids have a college education.” It’s even more unfortunate when kids burden themselves with loans many will never be able to repay.
Marco Rubio (not an endorsement!) said it best (I’m paraphrasing and embellishing) — we need more welders than college “educated” would-be philosophers who major in “Psycho-Social and Social Justice Elements of Environmentalism In Third World Countries” and who need a “safe space” to protect themselves from the rhetoric and realities of the real world, and when they realize their college degree didn’t qualify them for a decent job, even in the mailroom.
Eileen says
I loved the video of 2-year old Henry, then clicked to read this and found more laughs 😀 You really strutted your stuff here. It’s good old fashioned common sense.
Barbara Morris says
Thanks, Elaine. Good old fashioned common sense is in short supply. As for Henry, How many 2-year-olds know what “avocados” “broccoli” and “cashews” are? I’d bet he isn’t fed corn flakes for breakfast!