I suppose that having had two nights of waking before 3am had given me something of a sleep deficit, so it wasn't unexpected that I might catch up on some sleep this morning. I woke at 5.30am, which wasn't bad, really. I got up and once abluted did the washing up. Dull.
Fudge
woke and together we watched Babylon 5 over some brekkie. Or I
watched Babylon 5. Fudge watched the tropical fish in their
tank. Usually he ignores them, but from time to time something about
the tank catches his interest. I wonder what it is.
And
so to work. As I drove some opinionated chap was ranting on the radio
about one of the Government's
employment training schemes. Apparently some unemployed people
are obliged to do various work experience schemes for a maximum of
four weeks. In theory it's to give them work experience and to
provide them with workplace training. They don't get paid for
receiving this training and experience, and if they don't do it then
they risk losing various benefits. Personally I can't see the harm in
it, but what do I know?
Those
who make a living out of claiming the moral high ground have likened
this to slave labour. They've even
got a web site, but if you read through their propaganda it's
clear that they've lost their way, seeming to be favouring political
publicity stunts rather than actually doing anything constructive.
For example working when they would otherwise be doing nothing, like
the people on this scheme might be doing...
The
bloke ranting on the radio was lambasting the Salvation Army which
would seem to employ such people on such a scheme. One of the leading
lights of the Salvation Army came on to the show and told this
do-gooder to wind his neck in. The Salvation Army wasn't in the
business of making airy-fairy ethical judgements about the morality
of such a scheme, nor was it interested in playing silly political
games. It was trying to help specific individual people back to work.
From
my experience of the Salvation Army (I was a member of their youth
club as a boy, and did community service for them years ago) they
are a really decent group of people. It was a shame this
self-appointed bunch of do-gooders decided to have a pop at the
Salvation Army. In doing so they merely made the Salvation Army
appear better and made themselves appear themselves worse.
And
then the bleeding heart loony leftie teachers came on the radio. It
would seem that it is a hard life being a teacher because of the
terrible
behaviour of the brats in their care. Bad behaviour which is
entirely down to the bad parenting skills of the feckless parents...
And
my piss boiled.
When
the fruits of my loin were of school age I might see them for half an
hour in the morning before I would leave for work shortly after 7am,
and maybe for an hour or two in the evening (when I got home after
6pm) before they went to bed. I tried my very hardest to instil a
moral compass into the brats during those short hours, but my efforts
were actively and deliberately undermined and thwarted by the
crackpot loonies who taught my children. Every day for six solid and
constant hours both fruits of my loin were brainwashed by these
teachers into knowing that they could behave as badly as they liked
at school with no fear of retribution. The teachers of my children
made it very plain that it was not their place to impart any
discipline or moral guidance to their charges. When the brats mucked
about in the class the teachers would send me a report of the episode
and would expect me to discuss the matter with the offending child in
a calm and reasoned manner (!) And one of the teachers - one Dr
Sheppard (head of science) - actually told me that were I to do
anything other than to sit down and reason with my children about
their recalcitrant attitudes then the school would formally call in
the social services.
Extremely
seriously terribly bad behaviour at school was punished by exclusion.
When the child was extremely badly behaved they were told not to come
in to school the next day. Apparently that was a punishment. It was
rather frustrating that only I could see that such a policy just
encouraged children to muck about more and more. The stupid teachers
honesty believed this was a punishment.
I
maintain that had the most recent fruit of my loin been given the
cane (just once) things would have turned out very different.
Children don't respect reason and discussion. They respect a crack on
the bum at the moment of bad behaviour. When I was at school if
anyone mucked about they got caned. It didn't happen often. It didn't
need to. One child had a sore arse for a couple of hours and one
thousand children behaved themselves for eighteen months. Seemed a
fair price to me.
Let's
be crystal clear on this. Bad behaviour in schools is entirely down
to the regime in the schools. Bad behaviour needs to be tackled at
the time it happens. Excluding a child from school for bad behaviour
is no punishment. It is a reward. Bring back the cane. You don't need
to thrash every brat. Just make an example of the first miscreant and
all the rest will fall into line...
As
I've said before there are two types of people who do not agree with
corporal punishment for children. Those with no children of their
own, and those with the most ill behaved brats you ever did see.
(takes
a deep breath...)
Being
Sunday the radio then had the Sunday Service. Today it was from
Methodist Central Hall. Being an ex-Methodist myself I had high hopes
for this, but I was disappointed. I don't listen to many Sunday
services, but when I do, I want to hear old traditional stuff.
Instead it's always modern happy-clappy drivel that frankly puts my
back up.
I
find that as the years go by I am seriously rethinking the aggressive
atheism of my recent past and am beginning to wonder if all the
platitudes I heard whilst in the Boys Brigade might just have a
snippet of truth in them somewhere. Just possibly...
But
if I am going to take up church membership (again) it will be
something dull and traditional. I might even end up as a left-footer.
You never know.
And
so to work. I did my bit. Over a crafty cuppa I watched the weather
forecast on the telly. As I'd driven in I'd seen that the fields that
were white with snow yesterday were clear today. This had given me
hope for getting out with Furry Face over the next couple of days.
However the weather forecasters weren't so optimistic. Apparently
there are winds coming straight from the North Pole for the next week
which will make for yet more freezing conditions. I've had enough of
being cold. And last Thursday I discovered a bridleway at the top of
Park Farm I want to explore. I don't want to go off on a mission of
discovery with a runny nose and a shivering dog who won't wear his
coat.
I
didn't mind being at work today. The last time I worked on a Sunday I
missed a geocaching trip on which the protagonists ended up fighting
the snow, and it tuned out that the same thing happened today.
With
my bit done I came home to find my beloved was off at a
conglomeration of candlemongers, so I spent a little while
terrorising Furry Face. A week or so ago I bought him a rope ball tug
toy thingy. It's all but destroyed now, but he seemed to like playing
with it whilst it lasted. It would have been god if it had lasted
longer than a week, but what can you expect from the pound shop...?
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