America's Dumbing Down

Foreign affairs columnist, author and Pulitzer Prize winner, Thomas Friedman recently suggested that one of the reasons for the trend of outsourcing jobs abroad might be the search for brighter workers. He cites this opinion after sharing these statistics noting students pursuing undergraduate science and engineering degrees in four countries: Japan: 66% China: 59% Germany: 36%, and U.S.: 32%. Mr. Friedman offered some interesting solutions to our dismal record of student ambition/achievement as it will relate to future prosperity of our country. (NY Times, Oct 14) They are simple and workable. One such is: to encourage students to pursue studies in math and the sciences we need to find and reward teachers and future teachers with, of course, money. It’s the American way.

But where do we find these capable young people willing and able to meet the intellectual challenges of math and science? Do we have students who are bright enough? Motivated enough? The problem may be in the American male’s search for companionship among the ‘arm candy’ set, brought on by mindless TV, People Magazine and a superficial society. Are our young people dumbing down generation by generation?

Quite honestly, I do wonder if years of media messages and peer pressure have convinced many a young man to seek the company of a supportive and adoring young woman who will serve as a trophy. Easy? Well, easy only if the spouse to be is less intelligent than the male. A less intelligent mate will assure the male a superior status in the partnership and less of a challenge, thus the chance for a more comfortable and easy life for him, and ah- superficial. Unfortunately the secondary effect, I believe is a gradual dumbing down and lazy-ing up of the future offspring, as life becomes ‘survival of the witless’ meets desperate housewives.

On CBS’s Sixty Minutes earlier this year, several female Harvard Business School graduates spoke about their failure to find spouses, and lamented that their Ivy League degree was a liability. Some of these accomplished women refer to their degree as the “H Bomb.” They spoke about meeting men, and in conversation if asked where they attended college, were hesitant to mention the “H” word. They confessed that people physically backed away from them as if in disgust. The opposite is true if you’re an Ivy League man- you have immediate admirers. Why is this so? The ‘meal ticket latch- on- it’s –the- easy- way effect,’ is at work, no doubt.

Shouldn’t our child-bearing, intelligent and ambitious women be as great an asset as the males in our society? Too bad too few people have figured that out yet. Perhaps these wonderful women should consider outsourcing themselves from the superficial groups with whom they associate?

Too Much Time on Your Hands

When I was in grade school, my first grade teacher, Sister Margaret Ann was fond of trite sayings. One of her favorites was, “An idle mind is the devil’s workshop.” Being young and impressionable, and also fearful, the Fairy Blogmother took the advice to heart and began a lifetime of being busy.

My broken ankle has given me lots of free and idle time to fill, but as is my habit and early training, I do keep moving. Thus far, I have managed to make a buttermilk pie (NY Times recipe), rearrange some dining room furniture, move a rug, prepare two huge fruit trays for the local Boys and Girls Club fundraiser, wash windows, shop the racks at T J Maxx, re-do my phone book, wash the kitchen floor, repot some plants etc. I have been amazed what one can accomplish single-handedly and single-footed. But ultimately, the foot with the broken ankle swells in the cast and I make wheel tracks for the sofa and the remote...

My TV viewing preference has always been news shows, but because I am isolated these days, I have become a true news junkie. If one can’t get out, let the outside in: floods, earthquakes, plagues, politics, and scandals. Bring them on.

There is real entertainment in the news, you know, and I always look for that which amuses me, so I cherish the ridiculous. I find that some news anchors have become more concerned about their persona than the content of their broadcast, and thus sometimes fall into the trap of bearer of the dumb question. (Whenever will reporters and their producers learn that what is said is more important than what is worn?) So I have made it my quest to find the dumb comment of the day. Thus this morning, I heard a prize winning stupid question .MSNBC’s Natalie Morales was interviewing the new parent, Michelle Duggar who recently gave birth to her 16th child. She asked, “Other parents want to know, do you and your husband ever manage to have time alone?”

Had I been the recipient of that question, I’d have commented, “Oh, at least 16 times.”
The Fairy Blogmother’s son was quick to point out that perhaps I needed more projects and might spend less time as a news viewer. Maybe Sister Margaret Ann was right, or maybe Sister Margaret Ann should come out of retirement and talk to news groups?

The Return of Glenda Chewning

Not since I left parochial school years ago have I thought about Glenda Chewning, but I conjured her up after some forty years this week. Glenda was a good listener in the group of some sixty or more ‘boomer children’ in my class in the suburbs of D C. Her second grade face is etched in my memory still, as I recall the day she listened to my diatribe on submission to another’s will and the merits of walking home from school alone. Not alone, really as there was a group of four seven-year olds who made the trek three blocks from school to home each day. Even then, I must have valued my independence for I was angry at the intruding Mrs. Strocchio, Jimmy’s mom. She insisted on meeting our group especially on rainy days, and putting us in her car- no seat belts in those days, for a two minute drive home.

“We need to walk home alone, without parents. After all, what would happen in an emergency? Shouldn’t our gang be able to get home in the rain, snow or whatever on our own?” I remember spouting to Glenda. She looked at me and nodded and smiled in agreement. That was three seconds before Mrs. Strocchio, umbrella in hand, opened the car door and ordered our little band of loose-toothed kids into her back seat. Obediently, I followed my friends. And that was how it was those days. Children followed the instructions of adults without question, and those children felt resentful of that fact. (No wonder the youth revolted in the ‘60’s.). Looking out of the car window that day, I saw Glenda’s smile turn into a wider grin as she waited for her own ride. I was angry at myself for not holding my ground against the neighborhood’s most protective mother. Glenda’s smile made me feel foolish and angry at myself for having “given in.”

So was it the massive rains that brought forth Glenda’s memory, or was it my failure to fire the doctor that I’ve never seen? “Go with your gut feelings” and “Don’t be rash,” were the two conflicting voices in my mind recently. “Write him a letter and tell him how you feel about his failure to see you,” my friends advised, and I did. It was a good letter, in fact, I even thought it was of ‘nose hair singeing quality.” “Wait for a response,” my friends and husband advised, and I did. So the office business manager called me to ‘almost apologize’ for the doctor’s inattentiveness (absence actually- seven weeks in a wheel chair and I still haven’t seen or heard from him). “He is very caring,” Laura, the manager exclaimed. “He will definitely see you at your eighth week visit.”

And I succumbed. I agreed to keep my appointment, but I felt the presence of Glenda at my reluctance to seek another doctor. So The Blogmother’s advice is to all is “go with your gut.” You can seek outside advice, but in the end, you always have to do what you feel is best for you, or be prepared to suffer the internal anger that will most certainly follow.

Profound Words from a Kindergartener

When Dougie uttered the words, “Sorry don’t mean nothing, put your head down here.” I only thought it was amusing and a bit fresh. Now I understand how profound his statement really was. Such wisdom from a five year old, and no wonder, at that age children aren’t used to filtering their words when expressing their feelings. Dougie had just gotten his head smacked by a rebounding front seat as he bounced into the back seat of my car. You see, I used to drive mother and son to school each morning, and his pre-occupied mother didn’t watch his progress into the back seat that day, and offered a quick, “Sorry,” after the bump.

As I am now in my seventh week on crutches and in wheel chair, I truly appreciate the wisdom of the Dougster. He was tired of being rushed into back seats, and knew that his mom wouldn’t truly understand how he felt until she too felt the seat hit her head. I am also weary of being rushed and rushed by. Healthy two- footed adults hurry past me, and I imagine they must be thrilled to get to the line, in the door, and to the shelf first. They obviously have a real advantage over the one-footed human. They see me and know that I can be beaten. Rare is the individual who will open the door, lift a product from a top shelf at the store, or help guide me through an aisle at the checkout. And when someone does offer their help, I thank them profusely, as I am truly thankful for their kindness.

And I guess those who ignore people who are physically compromised will not understand the frustration the handicapped feel until they too, are compromised. Experience is truly the best teacher. Dougie knew and called it.