Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

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It’s Time to Eliminate Schools

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For more than 40 years, I’ve owned property in Idaho and paid property taxes. I estimate my taxes have contributed more than $150,000 to education. I haven’t received one well-written thank-you note, and I doubt the value of the return on this investment. I suggest a taxpayer revolt because we’re funding gigantic, windowless, government buildings full of camera-ready kids who don’t know its from it’s.

More money doesn’t guarantee better education. According to a report from U.S. News, the federal government spends more than $68 billion a year for education. Idaho allocates about $2 billion a year with $4,100 per student while New York spends more than $11,500 per student. I attended public schools for 16 years; 12 in the village of Wendell, Idaho, and four at the University of Idaho. There were 56 students in my high school graduation class, and we became teachers, writers, a veterinarian, and entrepreneurs. None of us knew how to take a selfie or wanted to shoot each other.

When students walk out of class because they fear being shot in school, maybe it’s time to eliminate the schools. Removing guns won’t solve all the problems or make hostile, lonely people stop killing their peers. Remove the school and remove the opportunity. Allow taxpayers to participate in the education process as well as provide the funding.

Communities should provide the education so young people can learn how to read, write, and become self-sufficient.

We should establish community education centers that involve adults and students where everyone is required to participate in the village learning classes. Students learn basic reading, writing, and arithmetic and also learn from local professionals about how to use their natural talents to become productive adults. Courses would teach them how to sew, weld, bake, farm, program computers, operate child care facilities, care for the elderly, write books, teach music lessons, establish a business, work with those with special needs, become law enforcement officers, fix a motor, wire an electric light, unplug a toilet, learn first aid, travel, and/or drive a truck. Other life skills courses would teach students how to balance a checkbook, establish a budget, maintain healthy relationships, care about their physical and mental health, and parent their future children. Each student would participate in an individualized course, and adult mentors would provide expertise and guidance. Students would learn in small groups, and participation would be required. Online courses would be available for specialized studies and modeled after the curriculum of successful online educational institutions.

The year-around community facilities would be limited to 300 students and most could walk to school. Students would not get lost or be ignored because each one would have a life goal to become productive and be a part of the community. Bullies would be expelled and sent to alternative facilities with the chance to earn an opportunity to return.  Extra activities, including sports, would be optional programs after class. Team quarterbacks and cheerleaders would be equal in importance with the science nerds and journalists. Being popular on social media would not be a primary goal for students. After high school graduation, students would be encouraged to volunteer for community service or join the military before enrolling in a trade school or community college. As adults, they would be motivated to run for political office but not make it a career. This system that focuses on learning and acquiring life skills would work in inner cities as well as in rural towns.

Use empty churches.

The community schools would require smaller buildings, and I suggest using all the churches that sit empty all week. The sprawling, prison-like schools that currently hold thousands of students could be converted into apartments and dormitories for homeless people. These buildings would offer classes for counseling and job training opportunities. Residents would be required to participate in the operations of the facility.

It may sound radical to suggest eliminating schools. But, in my opinion, the federal government is wasting more than $68 billion each year to fund a failing, bloated, antiquated system that produces illiterate, unhappy children. I would willingly allocate my property taxes to fund local educational centers, and I would volunteer my time and talents. If students can walk out and demand change, so can taxpayers and concerned adults.

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t Bake a Mouse in a Cake

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mouse on cake

My blossom on the youthful tree of life was not attractive. By age 11, I was a near-sighted, left-handed, gangly, goofy girl with wrinkly hair and absolutely no ability to conform. Outside of chores, the only activity for youth in the southern Idaho farming community of 1,000 people was a program called 4-H. The organization for youth was led by adult volunteers who promoted the four personal areas of focus: head, heart, hands, and health. Desperately hoping to help me focus and find some element of usefulness, my mother enrolled me in a 4-H cooking class with the admonition that I behave and not embarrass her. I failed on both assignments.

Twelve pre-teen girls enrolled in the 4-H club, and the leader had the meetings in her home. I usually sat on the floor so I wouldn’t disturb the meticulous décor. The couches were covered in bright floral chintz with coordinated fabric covering the matching side chairs. Festive garden-themed wallpaper featuring red velvet roses covered the walls, and pictures of pastoral scenes hung in gilded frames. A carved clock ticked softly on the polished marble mantel. I still had traces of manure on my shoes and didn’t belong in such a regal setting.

Each club member was required to do a cooking demonstration, and I practiced at home for weeks before it was my turn. I wasn’t thrilled about the assignment to make a lemon cake but I had promised my mother I would do it. I assembled my recipe, ingredients, and supplies and reluctantly stood in front of the group.

“Elaine, will now complete the demonstration for a delicious cake,” the leader said as she read from her manual to the group of wiggly girls. “Pay close attention to her technique and remember that we can all learn from this effective method as we increase our attentiveness and observe problem-solving procedures. Someday, you will have the privilege of cooking for your own family.”

I donned my hand-stitched apron and carefully positioned my pre-arranged supplies and ingredients on the kitchen counter.

“You must use a sturdy, large bowl for this batter,” I said, feeling wise and competent. “And a wooden spoon is necessary for proper mixing.”

I dumped the ingredients into the bowl and began to stir. The leader watched intently and made serious comments on my evaluation page. A few of my friends giggled with anticipation because they suspected I would deviate from proper protocol. I couldn’t disappoint them, so I added a new twist to my demonstration.

“Sometimes an added ingredient can be fun for the recipe,” I said. Then I reached into my pocket, pulled out a dead mouse I had found earlier in the barn, and dropped it into the cake batter. I stirred solemnly and waited for the mayhem. Some of the girls shrieked, others covered their mouths in horror, and the rest looked at the leader for her reaction. I just kept on stirring, naively thinking I would be commended for introducing a brilliant way to spice up the dull meeting. I imagined receiving a trophy on stage at some worldwide 4-H conference.

I underestimated the leader’s rage. On the verge of tears, she grabbed the bowl and tossed it into the back yard, knocking over one of her prized begonia plants. I could see the tail of the little mouse sticking up from the batter. This wasn’t my finest hour. I realized I probably wasn’t ready to have the privilege of cooking for my own family and definitely hadn’t observed problem-solving procedures or improved the group’s head, heart, hands, or health.

The leader called my mother and demanded that she immediately get me, and I was ordered to stand outside and wait. A few minutes later, my beleaguered mother maneuvered the station wagon in front of the house and rushed to the door. She didn’t look at me, and she suddenly seemed older. As my mortified mother offered profuse apologies to the leader, I slipped into the back seat of the car and tried to be contrite. I heard the leader say that I was never allowed in her house again and that I was kicked out of the 4-H club. Forever.

I never did retrieve our nice, heavy mixing bowl. My mother was humiliated and refused to consider the humor in the situation. I still feel bad about the incident because it caused her shame within the community and irritated a good woman. The next day, I was sent to the potato field to pull sunflowers. I didn’t mind because I didn’t need to scrape off my shoes or sit quietly in a room with red velvet wallpaper. Sometimes, though, I still stifle a snicker.

 

Midlife Cabernet: How to Avoid the Pending Doom of Civilization

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If we only relied upon the gruesome stories and gloomy reports in the media, most of us would trade our good silver for canned goods and a case of wine and then escape to a private bunker in the wilderness. We have visions of becoming the leather-clad, weapon-wielding character of Tina Turner in Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome. But most of us could never bend over long enough to fix all the laces and latches on those boots!

Before you feel the pressure to exchange your designer purses for backpacks and trade the cutlery set for Bowie knives, try turning off the news, shutting down the alarmists web sites, and closing the negative magazines. Unplug and walk away from paranoid and exaggerated pessimism that seems to seep like a toxic sludge from every media outlet. Use that time to focus on and participate in all the positive activities in your community and country.

There are volunteer organizations that right now are helping kids learn to read, taking hot meals to lonely senior citizens, building homes for low income families, and assisting special needs children go to school. There are unsung heroes who bring casseroles to widows, donate blood to the local blood bank, and rock sick babies in intensive care. Others are writing inspiring books, composing valiant symphonies, and singing new songs of freedom.

These people don’t make the news. They don’t march in the streets or threaten lawsuits. But they walk among us sharing random acts of goodness. Every day. The next time you have the urge to give up on society and curse the darkness, light a candle and find a cause. And keep the silver.