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RE: My Editorial Reply to Psychology Forum Thread, "Kids are Scared" (Because They are Illegal Aliens)

Posted 11-19-2016 at 12:04 PM by Blondebaerde
Updated 11-20-2016 at 12:51 AM by Blondebaerde

Edited for clarity and typos by yours truly. Please see quoted thread for full context.

Originally Posted by Blondebaerde View Post
Back to the original point, a bit tongue-in-cheek:
Kid: "Uncle BB, I'm scared!"

Me (BB): "Why, sonny boy? You're safe here."

Kid: "I saw on the TV that a bad man is going to be President! They say he may want to remove millions and billions of paperwork-challenged migrant workers, and that may be bad for families and lead to collapse of the economy! By the way, what's an "economy?"

BB: "Well, sunny jim, let me tell you what I think:

"Now, your folks aren't crooks, are they?"

"No, they'll the best people in the whole wide world! How can you say such a thing!" scolded the Kid.

"Ok," said BB. "Let me explain a little differently then:

"You like your classmates, right? Most of them? Some more than others, your friends, you play with them. Maybe others, though, aren't as nice to you, maybe one or two even kind of mean? But they're all in your class. Maybe you grew up with most of them, they're your neighbors, right?"

"Sure!" agreed the Kid.

"Suppose then," BB continued: "One day, two new kids arrive, and sit in the corner of your classroom. After recess, you raise your hand and ask the teacher, "Mrs. Teacher, who are the new kids in the corner?" But your teacher doesn't answer and looks a little scared, just keeps right on teaching, after looking at you *hard* for a moment."

"A week later, another new kid arrives. The first kids, they now have old textbook and some castoff crayons, but no desks."

"Next week, same thing happens: more new kids. They're in the corner, with some old chairs, huddled up and looking lost. Some don't speak English, but a few smile and wave at-least."

"So now," continued BB, "A few months later, there are the same thirty of your classmates, but now ten new kids back of the class. It's a little hot and crowded in the room now. It's important to remember: that classroom is yours, paid for by your mommies and daddies tax dollars. The teacher quietly gives them sandwiches and old books, from time to time, but one day those new kids stand up and say: "Those are OUR books, we need desks, we are just poor students who want to learn!" What would you say, sonny boy?"

"Well," said the kid after a minute, "I'd want them to have books and stuff like I do, but I don't know those kids, no one told me where they are from, and they want my stuff and my friends' stuff? That's not fair!"

"No, it isn't," said BB after a long moment. "Those students were not invited in, they walked in to your school and decided it was their "right" to be here, to be in your class, and to use your and your classmate's stuff. They climbed the fence and hid in the trunk of people's cars to get into your school, then to your class. They broke the law, because they "wanted" to and figured you wouldn't stop them. Their school wasn't 'good enough,' so why not just occupy yours?"

"Hmm," thought the kid. "I want to stop them, but I want all kids to learn in school. But using my stuff and my friend's stuff? I dunno...doesn't seem right." The kid looked perplexed.

"Well, son, it's like this: the last President, heading out the door soon, was like your teacher in what I just told you. A nice man, a smart man, who didn't mind how many new students walked into the school yard, into your class. He couldn't give them desks and crayons, but made sure they had something to learn with. But they were never really students here, or in this school. They looked unhappy, but did seem to be learning a little. When they wanted to, though some didn't understand. A few were bad kids, but most were like people everywhere: some good, some bad.

"But now all the original kids, your classmates, were unhappy: the price of lunch was up, and school supplies, because of those new kids so that "all" can be fed, housed, and learn. They have very little money to pay, so you pay.

"Now, actually, after a few years like that, the last President told everyone, mommies and daddies and students, that there really are no different schools or classes. Maybe, he said, we're all one big school and it's wrong for you to point out that that's crazy. In fact, if you point that out, you're the bad kid, not the squatters."

"After years listening to those lies, a lot of the mommies and daddies were more and more upset. The quieter mommies and daddies, who watched jobs disappear and found it harder than ever to feed their families, kids in your class just like you. A lot of the students in class were crying, but a few were handing their lunches and supplies to the "new kids" because after all: isn't that the "right" thing to do, the "humane" thing?

"And, some of the other mommies and daddies pulled away guards of your school, the men and women who keep you safe, while more new kids walked into your class. They scolded those guards, and other policemen, never to ask such questions again if they knew what was good for them. Not much was ever said to anyone about this, it was just the way it was.

"Finally, the mommies and daddies who sat quiet for so long did the only thing they could, the right thing, by one day standing up and voting. There is such a thing as "fed up" and tired of being told wrong is right."

"Those mommies and daddies just elected a new President, sonny boy. And new Senators, Congressmen, and Governors. A President elected in part by saying, "Well, this great nation exists via laws and social cohesion, not others illegally walking in and claiming what is now 'theirs' and going on about 'rights', while you can't feed your families. Criminals will be removed, and soon. They have every 'right' to petition, per the law, to enter your classroom" ...or, really what I mean is, this great nation...legally. But the days of illegal migrations are over!"

"Your Uncle BB's great-grandfather came in that way, legally, from Ireland, via Boston immigration in the 1870s. His great-great-great-grandfather and grandmother also did, on his mom's side, and migrated West to the then-frontier state of Ohio. Those were different times, and they had the papers to prove they wanted to be part of the great American experiment, sonny boy. They were Irish, and suffered hard work and discrimination, that's just how life is. But soon enough, their sons held positions of power, and stopped being Irish first. They were Americans first, and were accepted, as part of what I said: the great American Experiment!"

"What Great Experiment, Uncle BB?" asked the Kid. "Another time," replied BB.

"So, sonny boy, end of the day hardly anyone 'hates' those kids who shouldn't be in your classroom, but that's what laws and a functional society are all about. That's what separates the West...great countries like America...from societies who live by kings, dictators, and barbarism in most of the world. We will not become a Third World garbage dump, not while so many of us draw breath.

"Those new kids...really illegal aliens... shouldn't be there...here...illegally, and need to be helped back where they came from, because they are criminals and not part of your classroom. They can build their own classrooms, talk to their own government about rights and freedoms, as did the founders of this great nation.

"We, your classmates, need to know who they are and we, not they, will decide if and when they serve the interests of the classroom and school as a whole. When they do, if they do, we'll let them in, gradually and in an orderly fashion. Otherwise, well that's what 'illegal' means: just bad. Chaos, misery for all, including those who paid to build this classroom, school, and nation. The guards on the fence need to get back to work, the bad people who wouldn't let them do their jobs are gone now."

"The school, son, is our country: the United States of America, the world's greatest republic and by God may she stand proud again. The classroom in my story is your state, town, and actual class at school, by the way. So you understand," Uncle BB concluded.

"Geez," said the kid after awhile. "So the new President, I think, wants us kids, and us people, to be safer and obey our laws and stuff? Doesn't sound so bad to me after all!"

"You're on the right track, kid. You really are!" (ruffle hair.)

Hope that's straightforward enough, and is a variation of the conversation I'd have with any kid from about age 5 to age 16 who was "scared". Those older than that really ought to know better and figure it out for themselves.
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