I wonder sometimes if we should have patterned our educational system after our health care system…
Citizens would be encouraged, but not required, to meet regularly with their family education-care provider. That provider may prescribe any number of [primarily mental] exercises or refer patients [students] to specialists. Best of all [really!], employers would routinely provide ignorance insurance [Blue Cross/Blue Shield might develop a Yellow Pencil/Red Pen division] to underwrite the cost of education.
Johnny arrives fifteen minutes early for his appointment. He fills out [well, mostly fills out and most of that illegibly] three pages of forms and then sits in the waiting room. Thirty minutes later he is ushered into an examination room where he is given a pop quiz.
“You have ten minutes,” says the aid, as she writes the time, date, and her name [let's say... Ms. Amy] in neat, block letters on a dry-erase board at the front of the room.
“Miss,” Johnny raises his hand, “I don’t have a pencil.”
Ms. Amy hands Johnny a sharp #2 pencil and with a sigh and slight shake of her head makes a note on his chart [his PERMANENT record...].
Johnny bends over the quiz paper and answers most of the questions [again, mostly illegibly] and embellishes the page with stray doodles. At ten minutes [timed to the second, of course] Amy reaches for the paper. “Time’s up!”
“Miss, do you count off for spelling?”
“Only when it’s wrong. The teacher will be with you shortly.” Amy leaves, placing Johnny’s chart in a plastic bin on the wall.
Johnny stares blankly at the wall and chews idly on the pencil [for which he will be billed $5.00]. A few minutes later the teacher [let's call her Ms. Gina] enters.
“Good morning, Johnny! Please sit up straight.”
“Good morning, Ms. Gina.”
She flips quickly through his chart, frowning at the pop quiz results and stealing a side-long glance at the pencil wedged again in his teeth. Johnny notices and guiltily drops the pencil to his lap.
“It’s not time for your regular check-up, Johnny. What’s up?”
“It’s the maths.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“It’s just all of it. I was looking at my bank statement last week…”
Problem with balance, notes Ms. Gina.
“…and I was trying to subtract all the checks I wrote…”
Doesn’t know the difference.
“…and I just got al confused…”
Thank God he’s not multiplying — oops, that’s for another visit!
Ms. Gina flips back a few pages in the chart. “I see we’ve treated you for this before.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“I gave you three sample problems and a workbook?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you finish them?”
“Well, mostly. But then I had to work overtime for a few days and my car broke down and I slept late and my Mom didn’t wake me up and –”
Ms. Gina holds up a hand. “I get the picture. We can repeat the treatment, but it won’t do any good if you don’t complete it. I hesitate to send you to a specialist… since it wasn’t a failure of the treatment but your failure to follow instructions it falls under the pre-existing conditions exemption clause and your insurance won’t cover it.”
“How much will it cost?”
Like you would understand the numbers… “A private tutor can easily run $300 an hour; group sessions can be arranged for as little as $100 an hour, but there might be as many as six people in the group.”
“Six people at a time! How can one tutor help six people at a time?”
“Well, obviously you’ll get less individual attention, but they’ve been very successful with less severe cases.”
“Doesn’t matter. I can’t afford either of those, especially if insurance isn’t going to cover it.”
There may be hope for you after all….
“Can I have another workbook?”
“Do you mean, ‘May I have another workbook, please?’”
“Yes, ma’am. May I have another workbook, please?”
“Promise me you’ll finish it and schedule a follow-up appointment in… let’s say two weeks.”
“I promise.”
“Okay, Johnny. Here’s your workbook. Make the appointment on your way out. And here…” she holds out a jar of candy.
“A lollipop. Thanks, Ms. Gina!”
You can call it that. I call it a sucker…. “Bye, Johnny. See you in two weeks.”
