“Who you calling a scarecrow, dude?”
“You’d rather I called you a stuffed shirt?”
“Sure, dude. That way, when I’m feeling insufficiently padded, I can fix it by knocking the stuffing out of you.”
“No, dude, that belly’s foam padding. Lot better than hay. Doesn’t itch so much.”
“Sheesh, dude. You remind me of my gym teacher.”
“But, dude, I thought you liked your gym teacher. Even if he did call you Junket. He didn’t make you take any tests.”
“Not on paper, anyway – but he was one mean dude with a stopwatch. Remember how we used to pass tests by complaining that they were unfair? Like, when they asked questions that weren’t in the book?”
“Too hard, you mean, dude. Especially for those who didn’t read the book.”
“Same as you, dude. You got as many do-over tests as I did, and we passed ’em ’cause they were easier.”
“Simple economics, dude. Why work when you don’t have to?”
“Well, dude, we really must have been on to something. Says here that now whole states are doing it.”
“So I see, dude. Uncle Sam says to your State, ‘you don’t get any of my money unless Junior can read’. So the State makes the test so easy that a monkey’s nephew could pass it. He does, of course. That way, the State gets Uncle Sam’s money and gets to furlough teachers all at the same time. It’s brilliant!”
“And because it was my idea, that means I’m brilliant!”
“No, dude, it means you’re a scarecrow.”
“I don’t really care what you’re stuffed with. You can join all the other scarecrows who can’t read their high school diplomas, flopping down the yellow brick road and singing their theme song.”
“If I only had a brain, dude. What else?
– O Ceallaigh
Copyright Â© 2009 Felloffatruck Publications. All wrongs deplored.
All opinions are mine as a private citizen.