Flowers, Books, and Meritocracy in Communist Schools

My Second Grade Class

I found a rare book in my home library collection with personal significance. The pages are all yellowed and fragile enough that, if not handled with care, it will disintegrate. The published date is 1966, more than half a century ago.

At the end of second grade, school year 1966-67, my overall class average out of 30 students was very good. I was 8 years old and my average qualified for second place. My parents were blue collar workers (the proletariat) and always emphasized the importance of education; it was their pride and joy that their only child would do well in school. 

As was the case in the communist run schools of that time, each year four students with the highest overall averages received a bouquet of flowers, a certificate signed by the teacher and the principal, with first, second, third place, honorable mention, and a book to inspire students further in their studies.

The ceremony was always held outdoors on a sunny day. The black and white photograph shows the four of us on stage, dressed to the nines in pioneer uniforms with the red communist scarf, receiving the certificates, the books, and the flowers.

My book was titled "Illustrious Figures of Antiquity," and it cost 8.50 lei in 1966-67 when it was published which, at the forced exchange rate of that time, of $1 per 12 lei, it would have cost 75 cents.

I was not able to fully understand the book's content until the 8th grade, of course. I was not a genius to comprehend the historical figures of antiquity and their contributions to science, philosophy, art, mathematics, astronomy, and medicine. However, the point I am trying to make is that education and meritocracy were important at any grade level, during the era when the socialist man was being fashioned by the schools into the communist man.

Meritocracy and good performance in school were rewarded and recognized each year. Nobody would have dumbed down education or have taken away awards from good students in order to pacify weak students. There was no such thing as diversity and equity of outcomes. If you performed well, you were rewarded for your hard work and success. If your performance was weak, you did not receive certificates of participation.

Re-reading the book now, ever so carefully, I see all the dialectic materialism influence (communist), author’s views permeating through the historical record and its analysis.

Obviously, the author was a communist party card carrying member and apparatchik in good standing, otherwise his book would have never been approved for publication or even seen the light of day. Only authors approved by the censors of the communist party would have had their books published. The rest would just distribute their writings in pamphlet form in the underground.

The published world today is very much dominated by leftist communist influence, with bookstores overflowing with books written by the darlings of the radical left, and very few conservative authors see their books in print unless they are famous and publishing houses see an immediate profit motive. Most conservative authors are forced to form their own publishing houses or self-publish.

The larger point to be made here is that education, after weeding through the communist party indoctrination, was quite good when compared to the western education then and especially now, with noted exceptions of the manufactured history, which justified the communist party platform.

 

October Beach Days

Photo: Ileana Johnson Oct. 2015

I am so enchanted by the sparkling emerald green waters of the Gulf of Mexico and its white quartz sand beaches.  I must have been a mermaid in a previous life, living in the aqua blue crystal clear waters.

Even though I am not the best of swimmers, going into the ocean has been a fascinating dance between excitement, apprehension, velvety sand, and elation driven by charmed curiosity.  I am lured by the crashing waves, the marine life swimming about, and that exquisite sea shell in which a tiny creature finds its temporary home. Sometimes the strong undercurrents try to pull me further out to sea.

The ocean is glassy and fluid – I can see clearly to the bottom floor. Tiny white sand sharks swim slowly around my feet, while an occasional flash of silver streaks fast in front of me, chased by pelicans and sea gulls, eager to dive around me in hopes of catching a tasty meal.

The days are perfect. The sun shines with few white clouds on the horizon. The days are balmy 80s, the water is warm, and the waves are too small for the impatient surfers and occasionally even placid like a stagnant lake.  The undercurrents can be seen in the wavy sandy bottom that resembles little sugary dunes.

Photo: Ileana Johnson Oct. 2015

 

I trudge my chair, towel, and water cooler to the water’s edge to relax in the ocean surf sounds and the salty aroma of the spraying mist.  The sea gulls appear suddenly when I open the cooler top to get a bottle of water. They’ve learned quite fast that those marvelous little boxes contain food. I brought chips in hopes that an injured sea gull I spotted the day before would show up again. He was dragging one foot behind but was still able to fly. I wondered if he could still hunt for fish to survive.

Photo: Ileana Johnson 2015

 

Not even a painful encounter with a small nesting stingray dampened my desire to enjoy the most beautiful beach in the U.S. I stepped on the creature in thigh-deep ocean. I was treading water instead of shuffling through the bottom like the locals have told me to do. Normally shy creatures, the vibrations cause the stingrays to swim away from humans.

Photo: Ileana Johnson Oct. 2015

 

Surprised, the stingray shot its tail with barbs into my right heel. The toxin caused instant excruciating pain and bleeding. The ER doc told me later that I was lucky – it missed my Achilles tendon and the X-rays showed no barbs left inside.

Every so many seconds, toxin-driven pain shot through my entire leg in spite of pain meds and soaking in very hot water.  I did not fuss much – I treaded in their world and disturbed their tranquility. Stingrays bury in the sand 3-10 feet from the water’s edge and usually nest from April to October.

I cannot complain, after 36 years of going to the Gulf’s beaches, this is the first time I was stung. Mims was joking that next time, I might encounter Jaws. Considering all the sandbars so close to the shore, it was a distinct possibility.

Siesta Key

Photo: Ileana Johnson Oct. 2015

 

The edge of the beach was protected habitat where turtles nest and native flowers, bushes, and weeds grow wild and undisturbed. When dark falls, it is really hard to see anything. Ambient light is very low, street lighting is banned, and most homes have no outdoor lights on.



Photo: Ileana Johnson Oct. 2015

Not to be outdone by the atheist crowd that plasters religious COEXIST bumper stickers on their cars, environmentalists have come up with a Coexist t-shirt that sports an endangered animal marine species for each letter. Under a shady grove of palm trees and other tropical plants, a sign sponsored by atheists and secular humanists urged beach goers to protect their environment by adopting a park. Politics is ever present even at the beach.

Photo: Ileana Johnson 2015

 

Many stores are shuttered for the winter season. The local hangouts are busy and the dimly lit Walmart is open 24 hours. We loved it so much, we went four times. It was fantastic to hear nothing but English spoken in every store and to see American waiters, store clerks, and medical personnel trained in the United States.

The bookstore chain did not disappoint with its liberal staff. An elderly employee, with a Brooklyn accent, asked for my “teacherdom I.D.” when I purchased a book on Florida’s history. I had asked him about Donald Trump’s and Michael Savage’s books due out any day. He shrugged his shoulder as if I spoke a foreign language and, with a dumb grin, directed me to a helpful and more professional person.

Even though the beaches and water are perfect for a late October, the town is semi-deserted of tourists, save for small groups from France and Germany.  I could hear their animated conversations around me.

A few string-bikini clad young American women were strutting at the water’s edge, proud of their impropriety. The notoriously nudist European women were surprisingly subdued. But some of their men were letting it all hang out in string-bikini speedos, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Photo: Ileana Johnson Oct. 2015

What a great place to walk on the beach, watch sunrises and sunsets, admire pelicans and seagulls dive for fish, read a book, or fall asleep under an umbrella, lulled by the constant roar of waves crashing against the sugary-white sandy beaches.

Leaving this Floridian paradise, going through two beautiful airports in Tampa and Miami, where TSA agents were actually nicer to us in their freedom-robbing attempt to keep us “safe” from invisible terrorists, and returning home to cold weather and crowding in northern Virginia and to the dingy, smelly, and dilapidated Reagan National Airport, I cannot help but think, what a metaphor this is for all that is corrupt and dirty in Washington, D.C.

 

Do People Still Read Books?

Photo: Ileana Johnson 2014

I always thought reading was a dying pastime. I saw it in my former students and the scant reading they objected to, always looking for a synthesized version written by someone who actually read the book, usually Cliff Notes.

It is not just that publishers are mostly progressive; the books printed are usually aimed at the liberal crowd who enjoys perusing for hours books they refuse to buy.  It is much cheaper to drink an expensive cup of coffee and to occupy every available chair in the bookstore for hours while reading a favorite book or magazine for free or taking advantage of the unrestricted Wi-Fi.

Then there are electronic readers who make many books obsolete unless you are a dinosaur like me who loves to touch the photographs, the hard cover, turn the pages, smell the inimitable fragrance of a newly printed book, and highlight or underline memorable passages.

The few publishers who print conservative books choose their authors carefully from the ranks of famous people with name recognition, household names who hold influential positions in society or political office, people who are likely to make them money but do not necessarily make for an interesting read, are worthy of emulating, or have little else to add to the story of their time in office.

An ordinary American with an interesting and heroic story to tell manages to have a book published once in a while, either written alone or by a ghost writer. The book stores give them low billing on the bottom shelves, sometimes hidden from view on an obscure rack nobody is likely to check out.

The occasional science or history nerd, the serious reader, the child prodigy, the book worm, the liberal looking for that out of the galaxy self-help cool book, the computer geek, and children who play with toys and destroy books because their parents are too busy to supervise them can be found on any given day in our local bookstore.

The shelves are stacked with classics, history books, political and military books, travel books, children’s books, brain games, crossword puzzles, math puzzles, cards, knick-knacks, and many self-help books because liberals are always on a quest to find themselves and look up to some new guru who will tell them exactly how they feel and why they are still stuck in their parents’ basement, without a six figure job, and with a worthless degree in women’s studies, social justice, global warming, and basket weaving.

A random “man on the street” survey reveals that men like to spend money on electronic books while others prefer the audio CDs while driving.

Some find the silence disturbing, it is nicer to watch a movie and talk to someone else than read. Another guy refuses to read because cutting down entire forests to print books for libraries is outrageous – “Why cut down the forest and put it into a building?”

“I don’t have time for my own opinions, why would I have time or be interested in someone else’s point of view?” Life is too short, we must live in the moment, he added.

“I don’t read because I’m waiting for the movie to come out, it is much easier. Besides, I can’t read and eat popcorn at the same time and cannot replay a scene while holding my girlfriend in my arms.”

“We now have color television, computer games, Internet, megapixels, videos, and you want me to regress to the past and read something in black and white that I cannot replay or enlarge? It’s a waste of my time,” said another.

“I don’t have time to read. I can learn the same thing from songs and I can dance to it. Can you dance to books?” If I want to learn something, I can ask my friends. Or I can wait for the movie.

“Books limit my imagination. It is better to see a movie, see images, and it only takes two hours. A book takes a few months to a year to read. How can I imagine the words I read if I don’t know what they mean?” https://www.facebook.com/DoZaDeRas.X

While this “man on the street” survey was meant to entertain and perhaps contrived, I wonder what people on our streets would say when asked why they no longer read books?

Copyright: Ileana Johnson 2014