William Ayers was recently on "Good Morning America" and was interviewed and questioned about his relationship with President-Elect Barack Obama, and about his involvement with the terrorist organization, The Weather Underground. In the interview, Ayers does not deny his involvement, continues to say that the group did not do enough and has the audacity to say that the bombings of the US Capitol, Pentagon, NYPD Headquarters and other bombings (some of which targeted individual citizens) were non-violent. I don't know what kind of parallel universe this guy lives in, but blowing up buildings, killing and injuring innocent Americans is violent. He was 'angry' about the Vietnam War. Unfortunately nations take up arms against other nations. It is unfortunate that wars happen, but at times they are necessary and wars have existed since before recorded History. However, saying that bombing a building such as the NY Police Headquarters is non-violent and saying that soldiers in combat fighting to stop tyranny IS violent is ridiculous. How this man is allowed to be a college professor is beyond me. I can understand his disagreement with the Vietnam War, though I think the Vietnam War was a just war that was fought bravely and honorably by America's finest and poorly by bureaucrats in Washington. However his claims that the Weather Underground's actions were more noble than the men and women of the United States Armed Forces defending the freedom of South Vietnam are deplorable.
18 November 2008
16 November 2008
The Race
I'm reading a book called, Dare to Dream Again, and it is an encouraging book for anyone, but especially anyone who is down. If you are feeling depressed, attacked, accused, etc., the book is a great one to read. This poem by D.H. Groberg is in the book, and I really like it, and wanted to share it here.
Whenever I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face,
my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.
A children’s race, young boys, young men; how I remember well,
excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn’t hard to tell.
They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race
or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
Their parents watched from off the side, each cheering for their son,
and each boy hoped to show his folks that he would be the one.
The whistle blew and off they flew, like chariots of fire,
to win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire.
One boy in particular, whose dad was in the crowd,
was running in the lead and thought “My dad will be so proud.”
But as he speeded down the field and crossed a shallow dip,
the little boy who thought he’d win, lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his arms flew everyplace,
and midst the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face.
As he fell, his hope fell too; he couldn’t win it now.
Humiliated, he just wished to disappear somehow.
But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win that race!”
He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all,
and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
his mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.
He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”
But through the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face
with a steady look that said again, “Get up and win that race!”
So he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last.
“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought, “I’ve got to run real fast!”
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight, then ten...
but trying hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.
Defeat! He lay there silently. A tear dropped from his eye.
“There’s no sense running anymore! Three strikes I’m out! Why try?
I’ve lost, so what’s the use?” he thought. “I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.
“Get up,” an echo sounded low, “you haven’t lost at all,
for all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
Get up!” the echo urged him on, “Get up and take your place!
You were not meant for failure here! Get up and win that race!”
So, up he rose to run once more, refusing to forfeit,
and he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been,
still he gave it all he had and ran like he could win.
Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.
They cheered another boy who crossed the line and won first place,
head high and proud and happy -- no falling, no disgrace.
But, when the fallen youngster crossed the line, in last place,
the crowd gave him a greater cheer for finishing the race.
And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud,
you would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”
“To me, you won,” his father said. “You rose each time you fell.”
And now when things seem dark and bleak and difficult to face,
the memory of that little boy helps me in my own race.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
And when depression and despair shout loudly in my face,
another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race!”
D.H. Groberg
Whenever I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face,
my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.
A children’s race, young boys, young men; how I remember well,
excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn’t hard to tell.
They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race
or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
Their parents watched from off the side, each cheering for their son,
and each boy hoped to show his folks that he would be the one.
The whistle blew and off they flew, like chariots of fire,
to win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire.
One boy in particular, whose dad was in the crowd,
was running in the lead and thought “My dad will be so proud.”
But as he speeded down the field and crossed a shallow dip,
the little boy who thought he’d win, lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his arms flew everyplace,
and midst the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face.
As he fell, his hope fell too; he couldn’t win it now.
Humiliated, he just wished to disappear somehow.
But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win that race!”
He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all,
and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
his mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.
He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”
But through the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face
with a steady look that said again, “Get up and win that race!”
So he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last.
“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought, “I’ve got to run real fast!”
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight, then ten...
but trying hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.
Defeat! He lay there silently. A tear dropped from his eye.
“There’s no sense running anymore! Three strikes I’m out! Why try?
I’ve lost, so what’s the use?” he thought. “I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.
“Get up,” an echo sounded low, “you haven’t lost at all,
for all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
Get up!” the echo urged him on, “Get up and take your place!
You were not meant for failure here! Get up and win that race!”
So, up he rose to run once more, refusing to forfeit,
and he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been,
still he gave it all he had and ran like he could win.
Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.
They cheered another boy who crossed the line and won first place,
head high and proud and happy -- no falling, no disgrace.
But, when the fallen youngster crossed the line, in last place,
the crowd gave him a greater cheer for finishing the race.
And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud,
you would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”
“To me, you won,” his father said. “You rose each time you fell.”
And now when things seem dark and bleak and difficult to face,
the memory of that little boy helps me in my own race.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
And when depression and despair shout loudly in my face,
another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race!”
D.H. Groberg
08 November 2008
One More Reason to Homeschool
The election is over. Barack Obama won, and congratulations to him and his supporters. So long as his policies don't conflict with the constitution or my moral compass, I will support him. I will point it out when he is wrong, but he will very soon be MY President, and as such deserves every respect of the office to which he was elected. It is unfortunate that too many people did not give George Bush the same courtesy. I hope that all people on the right will do the same, and support their new president.
With that said, here is a video, which shows how tenure is a bad idea in schools. Spending in schools over the last 40 years has more than doubled, yet the results are the same. In 1970 we were spending an average of $4,060 per student in 2006-2007 dollars. In 2005, we were spending $9,266. (Heritage Foundation) While there have been slight improvements in performance by age 9, by age 13 and 17 those gains in performance drop off to at or below performance levels in 1970. Obviously throwing more money at schools is not working. But tenure and the teachers unions have made it nearly impossible to get rid of teachers that are not performing. Here is a video of a teacher who is an Obama supporter, who needs to be let go from her teaching job. What she does to the little girl who says she supports John McCain is embarrassing, and alone should be cause for administrative discipline at a minimum. But that's not how it usually works in American public schools nowadays. Most kids get stuck in liberalism factories and are taught WHAT to think, not HOW to think. I know this is not representative of all teachers, and I know not all schools are bad schools. But there are too many for the next generation to come out better than they were 40-50 years ago.
Hattip for the video to www.Glennbeck.com
With that said, here is a video, which shows how tenure is a bad idea in schools. Spending in schools over the last 40 years has more than doubled, yet the results are the same. In 1970 we were spending an average of $4,060 per student in 2006-2007 dollars. In 2005, we were spending $9,266. (Heritage Foundation) While there have been slight improvements in performance by age 9, by age 13 and 17 those gains in performance drop off to at or below performance levels in 1970. Obviously throwing more money at schools is not working. But tenure and the teachers unions have made it nearly impossible to get rid of teachers that are not performing. Here is a video of a teacher who is an Obama supporter, who needs to be let go from her teaching job. What she does to the little girl who says she supports John McCain is embarrassing, and alone should be cause for administrative discipline at a minimum. But that's not how it usually works in American public schools nowadays. Most kids get stuck in liberalism factories and are taught WHAT to think, not HOW to think. I know this is not representative of all teachers, and I know not all schools are bad schools. But there are too many for the next generation to come out better than they were 40-50 years ago.
Hattip for the video to www.Glennbeck.com
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