Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Vanilla or Rocky Road?

So my husband and I have these friends. . . well he has the friend, and I have the wife. Lucky me. Early in our relationship I learned that she and I have nothing in common. Zero. Zilch. (except both working in child-focused careers) I like to refer to her as "Vanilla," which translates to "Boring-as-Hell." After the first few awkward social gatherings (my own personal hell), Hubby was threatened to never again go off and do "boy things" in the garage, leaving me and Vanilla to do "girl things" by ourselves. Fortunately, with life moving the way it does, we rarely see this couple, and with kids around it is far more likely that Hubby sees Husband-of-Vanilla by himself. I am okay with that. Soooo okay.

Vanilla ended up on the reading list of my nicey-blog. I think I felt bad for being such a bitch when she is truly a kind person and wakes up shitting rainbows and stuff. I try not to read it because it's all about how great life is and how great God is to bless her in her all-white, prosperity doctrine, subservient woman, gay-bashing Bible church world. Gag.

Naturally my attention was snagged today when her post read "First Day of Homeschool" and was complete with first-day pictures in front of their house, pictures of ABC snacks, and stories of calendar time on the front porch. She "can't wait to do it all again tomorrow!" Really? Why is it that the Bible-churchers feel the need to home-school? Call me crazy, but isn't the purpose of theirevangelical denomination? So that they can send their privileged, lily-white children to school with the heathens and general brown kids and show them how if they believe God will give them money, a house in suburbia, a mommy who stays home while daddy goes to work, and playgroups galore with other lily-whites and desperate housewives? Oh, and the security of knowing that the real world means everyone gets a ribbon, all kids are that smart and that if you believe in God and follow all prescribed rules you get to lead the same charmed life of your parents.

My questions are these: What is so threatening about the dirty kid, picking his nose at Circle Time? You know, the one who lives in (gasp!) an apartment? How do you pick teaching as a profession, go to work in an under-privileged area for years and then decide what you did for a living isn't good enough for your own kid?

I.don't.get.it

No comments:

Post a Comment