Desert

Voice work by Sara Raz.

Voice work by Sara Raz.

There he is again, slithering directly behind me.

 This soldier won’t leave me alone.

 I scurry a little faster, hoping to lose him in the crowded street, but he keeps up, maintaining an uncomfortable distance.

 I just want to get home.

 His eyes, dark under the pulled down military cap, stare intently at me when I glance back to see if he’s still there.

 Seek help from a stranger, that is the only answer.

 Reaching out to the first man I see, I plead “Monsieur,can you please help, this soldier is following me.”

 Looking up, surprised from the distractions of his ground-focused attention learned through years of NAZI occupation, the gentleman is a bit startled.

 The soldier comes closer.

 He’s not keeping his distance any longer.

 “What is the problem, madame?” the gentleman says, just as the soldier sidles up to tower over him.

 “Move along buddy” the soldier says, “my girlfriend and I are having a lover’s chase, if you know what I mean.”

 “This soldier is not my boyfriend” I exclaim with all authority.

 The gentleman is dazed, confused, and clearly wants to get somewhere away from this soldier.

 Shoving the gentleman on, the soldier turns to me, his back to the other man.

 “Look here sweetheart, we’re going to resolve this.” He says as he grabs my hand.

 “LET GO OF ME!” I scream.

 The gentleman stands there, stunned.

 “Come with me Lucille!” the soldier projects loud enough for all to hear.

 A crowd begins to gather around. The gentleman is still standing there, not knowing what to do.

 “My name is not Lucille. I will not go with you. I don’t know you. Let go of me!” I demand.

 Yes, a lot of noise, a crowd, attention. The last things he wants!

 The soldier lets go of my hand as he turns to the crowd.

 “Fine, have it your way honey. I’ll see you at home.” He says as a parting blow to my status among the strangers in the crowd.

 It worked, I am free of this monster.

 “I do not know him.” I plead as the crowd dissipates with knowing expressions.

 How dare he besmirch me near my home, this Cretan!

 Scurrying home,I turn on several wrong streets to make sure the soldier is not following me.

 I can’t have him know where I live.

 Finally turning onto my street, I see my building entrance in the distance.

 Home, safety, freedom.

 Making my way toward the entrance, I look around me.

 The soldier is nowhere to be seen.

 I walk through the outer gate, entering the front courtyard of the building.

 As I approach the front door, I look around again.

 I’m not opening this door until I know I’m safe.

 No one is around. I am alone.

 I reach into my purse, clasping the key to the door in my right hand.

 Looking up at the lock, a shadow breaks over mine on the door.

 NO!

 Swiveling around, I am prepared. The key to the door is locked between my forefinger and my middle finger.

 It’s not much, but it would hurt if jabbed in the eye in a quick thrust.

 Thrusting my arm, I see whose shadow it is.

 “Good evening Monsieur Horbac” I say in a startled voice as I let my hand fall to my waist.

 Thank god!

 “Allow me to get the door, Madame.” The kindly old gentleman says to me as he reaches up.

 How did he surprise me?

 We enter the building, Monsieur Horbac heading to the elevator, and me to the stairs.

 “Good evening Monsieur Horbac” I offer as I start up the staircase and he enters the open elevator.

 I’m almost home.

 My right foot just touches the first stair as the door behind the entrance to the staircase closes with a loud slam, and I hear “Hello again Lucille.”

Following the liberation of Paris in August 1944, the fighting units of the Allied armies pushed on through Eastern France toward Germany. Some of the soldiers from these armies decided to make their way back to the City of Lights, rather than fight on the front. For most, this was a chance to get out of the fighting, keep a low profile, and simply sit out the remainder of the war. For others, this was a chance to take advantage of the military uniform to steal, assault, rape and murder without compunction. Paris and other liberated cities were hit by a wave of violence and crime not often discussed after the war. Up to 50,000 American and 100,000 British soldiers deserted their units during World War II. Between June 1944 and April 1945 the US Army investigated over 7,900 cases of criminal activity. Forty-four percent of these were violence, including rape, manslaughter and murder. Eventually, law and order were restored in the liberated cities of Europe, but it took to the end of the war, and the reintroduction of strong civilian police authorities, to make this happen.

The Deserters: A Hidden History of World War II by Charles Glass was the source of information for this story.

Homeschooling and Socialization

Sent to Michael Martin (micheal.martin@oireachtas.ie) on hearing him state "I’m not a great fan of homeschooling. I think children need to socialise.” Thank you Issy from Stark Raving Dad for some useful material with which to write this.

Dear Sir,

I greatly appreciate your work for the country of Ireland and your passion to help make the world a better place. My family moved to this great country almost 3 years ago and look forward to becoming citizens one day. One of the big motivators for us to live in Ireland is the approach to homeschooling, enshrined in the Constitution, the support for which we did not experience as much in the United States.

My family was saddened to hear your expression about the lack of socialization you believe homeschooled children experience when you stated "I’m not a great fan of homeschooling. I think children need to socialise.” 

This sentiment could not be further from our experienced truth, that experienced by the other homeschooling families with whom my family is well connected, and by research into this subject. Our experience of homeschooling includes constant interaction with people of all ages in many environments, across our community and world. Kids in our community travel extensively, see the world far outside the four walls of a schoolroom, and are regularly figuring out how to work with, learn from, and help those older and younger than they are, rather than being confined to a cohort of only their age group.

If you ever have the opportunity, I invite you to observe homeschooled children living in the world. I would like to offer you the chance to see them out at the local library, in the skate park, at the pool, art gallery, museum, cultural heritage site, street market, beach, improvisational acting class, dance group, international affairs discussion seminars, university level classes as they naturally interact with all the different people in these spaces - librarians, skaters, lifeguards and surfers, gallery curators, market stall owners, park rangers, museum staff, actors, professors, etc. May you see them surrounded by other children passionate about the same things they are, see the varied ages, backgrounds, cultures and worldviews of all the people with whom they engage every day, and the natural environments in which they are experiencing these interactions.

Maybe, if you witness these things, you may come to understand how strange it sounds to hear officials say these experiences offer less social development and life experience than spending years in a classroom. 

I would like to quote a fellow homeschooling dad, who writes about this topic regularly:

The assumption is that by attending school, and attending a classroom, children will automatically be given a path to becoming balanced, confident, well-socialised adults. And if they don’t have that experience, they won’t.

But let’s just make sure that idea actually stands up.

Let’s take a 10 year old child as an example here. When that child first enters their classroom to start the year, what does that environment look like from a social development perspective?

Well, we know it’s where they’ll spend a lot their time for at least the rest of the year. That’s their base now. We know that the main interactions they will have, day to day, will be with the same group of children who are also arriving at that classroom. We know they’ll interact with their teacher, and maybe other teachers here and there. And we know they’ll probably have access to areas like a playground, and a sports field, and other children of different ages during some break times.

On the surface, they’re going to have plenty of social interaction. Especially compared to a home educated child, who won’t be allowed inside those gates and so won’t have access to any of those people or spaces.

But we’re not here for that surface perception. We’re here to dig a little bit deeper.

So let’s look closer at the environment this child’s social interactions will play out within.

Every child in that classroom is also 10 years old. Or, close enough to it. And every child in that classroom is there because they have been told to be. Maybe, if we gave them all the option, some of them would stay – but most of them would not.

So we have a group of children who had no say in whether they want to be part of that specific group. We have a group of children who are all the same age, whether they actually like interacting with others of their own age or not – and I can promise you, plenty of children don’t.

We have a group of children who must gather and stay in that one room until they’re told they can take a short break, or – eventually – leave for the day.

And then standing at the front of the class, we have the only person who is a different age, and the only person who has actually chosen to be there – more or less – the teacher.

But that teacher doesn’t just get to work with these children however they want. They must follow the plan, and keep up with a very clear delivery and testing schedule. Their interactions with that group of children will mostly – by necessity – be through a lens of needing to develop them against a standard not even they themselves had any say in defining or setting.

Which means, they’re under pressure.

So let’s be clear – this is not a natural social environment. It actually couldn’t be further from it. It’s a constructed space, with rules and guidelines and expectations.

Now let’s exit the classroom for lunchtime. Aside from the fact this is where inequalities are exaggerated more than anywhere – you only need to glance around at children’s lunchboxes, and who is sitting with who, to start getting a sense of that – this is also where all that pressure from within the classroom releases.

It happens in all sorts of different ways – some children express it through running and shouting for 30 minutes straight, others express it through picking on someone they perceive as weaker (which often just means younger) to give them some sort of feeling of control. We could go on and on, here. The mix of stresses and feelings, and the social behaviours that come from those in a playground…we could spend and entire episode on that.

But let’s just say that a playground space in a school ground – while it looks like a fun, relaxed area, and sometimes is – is also something that acts like a pressure valve, one that is released in both positive and negative ways.

And if you’re on the receiving end of that negative type, you cannot choose to leave. And you’ll likely face it again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.

And if you’re the type of child who feels that pressure building, and struggles to control how you release it, you’ll be on that daily rollercoaster for a long time.

So what do we think? Is school – just by default – really bringing every child that walks through the gate a balanced, varied social experience that sets them up for life?

Does most of a child’s time spent in one room, or small number of rooms, with mainly children of exactly the same age offer that?

Does having one or two adults present in the room, but who quite clearly exist as a superior to you, and who are quite clearly under pressure to get you to make progress and to keep you on task, really develop your ability to interact and communicate with all kinds of different people?

Does spending time in a playground, or on a sports field, or in a lunch area, or in big hallways, when you have no choice to leave if things get uncomfortable, or scary, make you a more balanced, social person?

And does being put through all of this with little to no input from the child, really allow them to build confidence within themselves as they relate to other people on their own terms?

So let’s ask the question again: if a child attends school, how are we going to make sure they develop socially – positively – in that kind of environment?

Homeschooled children are not isolated from the real world. They are out there living, interacting, and helping build and shape it.

Thank you for all you do and for your continuing willingness to listen and learn. May we as a community use this opportunity to help the world better understand different approaches to the same challenge, offering personally effective solutions for each individual based on how we each interact with the world in which we live.

I invite you to reach out to me to share this experience, if that is of interest to you.

Sincerely,

Jeremy Strozer

Treat

We step down into the dark room, letting our eyes adjust from the bright early afternoon sun shining through the clouds outside.

Just a small bar with a simple tap and a few stools, this pub is perfect.

“A pint for me and my pal here” Florian calls out to the keep.

Oh, he may not know.

I pull out my wallet just as he’s pulling out his.

“I’ll pay for mine.” I shutter in an undertone of covert immediate action.

“Put that away, You’re money is no good here.” Florian announces back, without any sense of propriety.

How could he not know?

Heads start turning our way.

“You’ve been away too long, let’s at least pay our own.” I reply, hoping to make this about holding my own.

He won’t have any of it. “Please, I can’t let you pay for yourself when I’m flush with cash I can’t spend at the front.” He blurts out, too loud.

Luckily, the barkeep, who is now standing with two pints of beer directly before us, simply states, “Sorry laddy, but the Queen won’t let you treat now. Each of you will have to pay your own way for these.”

Thank you, that saved me!

Florian looks at him, then looks at me.

“What are you talking about?”

The barkeep, in simple words, answers back, “New law, meant to keep folks from blurting out secrets.”

Florian simply stands still for a moment.

Here’s my chance.

I take a bill out of my wallet and place it on the counter.

The Barkeep then turns to me to ask, “Want change?”

Of course I want change!

“Yes, please.” I say as Florian pulls a bill out of his wallet as well.

“Want change?” the barkeep asks Florian.

“No thank you!” he says, while looking at me.

Ok, so you bettered me again. Fine.

“Drink your beer you bastard.” I laugh out as I bring the pint to my lips.

On August 8, 1914 the British Parliament passed the Defense of the Realm Act (DORA). This law greatly increased the powers of the government for the duration of the war, giving broad powers of requisition of property, censorship, and social control mechanisms aimed at winning the war. Among the laws provisions were a ban on flying kites, starting bonfires, buying binoculars, feeding wild animals bread, discussing any kind of military matters, buying alcohol on public transport, and most controversial, making it illegal for anyone to treat anyone else to alcohol at a pub. These measures were put in place in the belief that if people were not allowed to get others drunk, then no one would spill the national security secrets they possessed. People who broke the law with intent could be put to death. Britain was not alone in this law, as Canada passed the War Measures Act and the Emergencies Act as well. The United States passed the Sedition Act, and the Espionage Act, although these did not ban anyone from treating anyone else to a beer at a pub. Most of these laws were lightened up after the end of the war.

When World War II broke out these kind of laws came back. In Britain the Emergency Powers Act and the Treachery Act. Neither of which banned treating someone else to a beer.