4 comments on “DWIGHT D. EISENHOWER

  1. I was asked why I’m interested in and blog about someone like Eisenhower or any president?
    There’s a lot of holes in my “formal education” as I only went as far as the 7th grade.
    To compensate for that I do a lot of reading and understand that it is the history of government
    and presidents that define the course a nation travels.
    So I assign myself “homework”, a part of which has been studying the presidents that have held
    office and their administrations policies and approach to governing.
    I originally began this related to treaties the nations have entered into but it quickly became
    broader in scope as all policy affects not only the nations but minorities across the board.
    It can be a little tedious at times but at least I have the option to leave the classroom at will and
    no more rulers or blackboard pointers across my hands or getting my face slammed into a
    desktop resulting in a split eyebrow and bloody nose at the age of eight or nine.
    And yeah, I fought back, but my opponent, the “teacher”, was seriously above my weight class
    and it didn’t last long.
    So what has led to this splinter group becoming the majority?
    Corporate influence, SC rulings like Citizens United, fear mongering, nativism oriented propaganda
    and in no small measure over the top evangelicals.

  2. Well, I’m kinda smiling now, been advised I left some holes in my comment related to the
    reasons for holes in education – so in aiming to please I’ll add the following and then leave
    it at that:
    By the 7th grade I had had enough and was basically hanging in for my mother who felt the
    only opportunity I would have in life would be the result of an education.
    Times were tough and that coupled with my disdain for the “educational” environment it
    wasn’t much of a decision to drop out and work.
    The final straw was one day in class a fellow student believed I was taking too long sharpening
    my pencil and stabbed me with his pencil with such force as to embed a good inch and half or
    so in shoulder – I went at him tooth and nail and we both wound up in the principals office where
    it was decided we were to receive swats with something like one of this cricket bats.
    The idea was we were to bend over, grab the principals desk and take our “punishment”.
    I didn’t mince any words in my refusal to do so as they were contrary to the principles of standing up for and defending myself I had been taught, which led to an additional scuffle and me
    walking out the door and out of school forever.
    I was expelled? Big deal, I had by my own decision, “expelled” myself, had no intention of ever returning – and that’s the way remained.
    More than a little ways home and as I was my making way I stopped along a river to wash my wound
    and apply some moss to it – I made an effort to extract the piece of pencil as I thought maybe it
    best not to alarm my mother but couldn’t see what I was doing or get a grip on it.
    When I arrived home and told my mother what had taken placed she was ready to put on the paint,
    my shoulder had begun to throb and blood was on my shirt that couldn’t be hidden, and I still laugh
    a little remembering how she began casting about for a suitable club or something to that end.
    My mother was a gentle soft spoken person who could become absolutely fearless in defense of her children.
    She believed as I did that I had a right to respond whether stabbed with a pencil or a knife, dug
    the broken piece of pencil out of my shoulder, cleaned and put some medicine on the wound, and
    told me I was correct in both my responses, but also understood I would not go back short of being dragged to school each day and once there chained to a desk.
    I never felt comfortable in school and I can honestly say I only had one teacher who seemed to actually give a damn.
    Too many fights, too many taunts, and too many rules that seemed to have a special application
    when it came to me.
    And so I have become my own teacher, and I choose the curriculum – in the end I believe it has worked out for the best, at least for me though spell checkers may have a field day or my grammar leaves something to be desired.
    I am a strong advocate for education and times have changed, but one thing I know is if a child,
    any child, is physically abused by a teacher or principal, and that relates to “swats” and the ensuing scuffle upon refusal, the same abuse should be visited upon the abuser by the parent whether that would be considered politically correct or not.
    And that split eyebrow and bloody nose mentioned in the first comment?
    When I got home my mother’s responses and reaction were that had I been in a fight,which wasn’t uncommon, and she busied herself cleaning me up.
    I let it go at that – didn’t lie, didn’t say I had, just let it go figuring she had enough to contend with already.

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