SCHOOL CHILDREN RAISED TO BE VICTIMS

KIDS LOCKED IN "ISOLATION SPACE" DEPRIVED BASIC NEEDS
On Friday November 5th at 8:45 AM 1st and 3rd grade teachers did a routine Covid check on all kids in classes in Washington state's Valley School District.
If a child had cold symptoms they were sent to the nurses,
and then escorted to a small hallway with automatic locking doors,
and then were left there for hours, without access to a bathroom.

It is unfortunate that parents do not teach their children to be rebellious for the right reasons.

I don't know how old those abused children were, but my father taught me how not to be a victim. And most parents today FAIL to do so.

My father was a rebellious teenager. My grand mother told me this story.

He was in class and needed to go to the bathroom. The teacher refused to let him go.

So, he took his dick out of his pants and peed on the ground under the table.

My grand father was not a victim. He was in his 70's and got into a car fender bender.

The driver of the other car, a man in his 30's, pulled my grand-pa out of his car, laid him on the hood,

And started beating him-up. My grand father reached for his head and pulled to close the distance,

and avoid hard blows. It didn't work, the man didn't stop.

So, he pulled him self to his throat and bit the big vein of his neck and ripped it off.

The man ended up in a coma.

Now back to a similar story. I was 11. A food fight started in the canteen.

One of the teachers supervising the lunch, designated me as one of the perpetrators,

which I was not. I hadn't thrown any food, but did get hit by some.

He made me kneel in the corner on a square ruler. I lasted 5 seconds.

The rebellious kid I was stood up to return to my seat. He spotted me,

came running and proceeded to grab me by ear and drag me.

I kicked him in the shin as hard as I could, and ran out, jumped the school gate,

returned home, knowing my family would understand.

Because this is how I was raised: NOT a Victim!

An example. We lived in Morocco at the time. I was 8 years old.

It was apricot pit game time in the school yard during recess.

Some of us had a shoe box with 3 holes, one small, a medium, and a large.

The players stood on the line and tossed their apricot pit in the holes of the box.

If it went in, the reward 20, 10, or 5 pits, depending on difficulty.

An older kid came to my stand grabbed my box and walked away. I ran after him.

He head butted me and broke one of my teeth. My mouth was bleeding.

My father got wind of the story, and threatened me with punishment if I didn't retaliate.

A week later we were playing at spinning Tops with a string. Same kid walked my way.

I threw the Top at his head as hard as I could. He was taken to a hospital for stitches.

The teacher called my father in. And my father's response after he heard the tale was:

"He did good", "I'm proud of you son"