OUT OF THE PAST!
We were up at Mackinac Island, the Land that Time Forgot. This is one of my favorite places, where the years stand still and we still do things the old fashioned way. My buddy Robbie was amazed.
"This is incredible." he said. "This whole place is like a museum. Right out of the past."
"Yup," I said. "This is where the past lives on: just sitting here in rocking chairs on the big long porch of the Grand Hotel, while guys in fancy white uniforms serve you drinks."
"Amazing," said Robbie. "So this how it used to be in the old days."
To a Horse-Drawn Carriage
We got up and walked down the red carpeted stairs. A horse-drawn cab was sitting there. "Amazing," Robbie said. "This whole place is like a museum, right out of the past."
"Yup," I said. "They still do things the old fashioned way. No cars here! We ride in carriages pulled by horses and with a driver in a uniform wielding a buggy whip." We got in the carriage and majestically, clip-clopped down the hill and into town. Folks on bicycles pedaled past. We ended up at big park, and walked up a ramp to a white painted fort.
Up To the Fort!
At the fort was a sentry in a wooden box, wearing a blue uniform with a red stripe down his pants and shiny brass buttons with a cloth cap. Inside were more soldiers in blue uniforms carrying around muskets. A group of them were working under the command of an officer wearing a hat with a feather in it. They were loading cannon with gunpowder, and next to the cannon sat a pile of round iron cannonballs.
"Amazing," Robbie said. "This is incredible, right out of the past."
"Yup," I said. "They still do things the old fashioned way here. No automatic weapons, satellite communications, Kevlar, or smart bombs. Soldiers with muskets march around and shoot cannonballs. The past lives on!"
To the Main Street.
We walked down from the Fort and down the main street, past stores selling ice cream and fudge. Folks waved at us, drinking lemonade, from the verandas of boarding houses. "Right out of the past," said Robbie.
Soon we came to a brick building with a metal roof. We could hear the voices of children in there. "What's this," asked Robbie.
And What's This Building?
"It's the island school," I said. "A delivery system for public education. Children sit in classrooms, for a fixed period of time, five days a week, 180 days a year, all divided by grades"
"Grades?" asked Robbie. “How do they decide grades?"
"It's based on how old you are. All the kids around a certain age go in the same grade and learn from the same books."
"Books?" asked Robbie. “What books?"
"Every subject has a paper book," I explained. "They print them nationwide and all the kids get the same one.”
"Don't they go out of date? And who decides what goes in them?"
"Well, we try not to put in stuff that will go out of date. And the content is determined by committees of professors, and then vetted by activists of all political persuasions. Whatever offends the least amount of people goes in the books. The teachers fill in the gaps."
"Teachers?" asked Robbie.
"Sure," I said. "A teacher is a person who's in charge of a 'class,’ generally one grade. Teachers get paid and promoted based on how long he or she has worked. They're almost impossible to fire, and they get raises every year, plus pensions. You get to be a teacher by going to college, passing a certification, and then getting hired by a school district."
"School district?"
"We have over 550 school districts in Michigan, not counting charters. Each district has a school board, superintendent, management, and support staff to help negotiate with the teachers union."
"Amazing," Robbie said. "Right out of the past!"
