While we’re on the topic of being outspoken, here’s an interesting story from Dale McGowan. His high-school-age son, Connor, had a bit of a disappointing start to the school year in his science class…
He had enrolled for physical science and was looking forward to it, thinking it was physics. Turns out it’s actually basic mechanics and other concepts he’s already had. But it was the teacher himself who had made the biggest impression — and not a good one.
“He did this whole thing with overheads, and a bunch of it just didn’t make any sense,” he said. “This one overhead said something like…” Connor paused to remember the wording. “‘Experiments and evidence in the present can’t tell us anything about the distant past.’”
“Then he goes off on this thing about ‘If no one was there to witness something, we can only guess about it. This is a big problem for the evolutionists…’ And he goes on and on about how they’ve got all these little bits of bones but how they can never really know what they mean.”
Let’s say that Connor’s recollection is perfect and this happened exactly as he said it did.
If you’re a parent, what do you do? Should you stay silent? If you don’t, how do you make sure your child isn’t punished for your science-positive outlook?
Dale’s already a notable atheist, having written a few books dealing with the subject, and he doesn’t want his son to be negatively affected because of that, so he did have some hesitation about moving forward on this.
His wife Becca gave him a bit of a nudge, though.
I began to consider my options, the first of which is always “Let it go.” It’s taken me years to learn that accepting a certain base level of facepalming human malpractice is one of keys to passing my short vivre with some degree of joie. But there are also options that involve me getting out of my chair. Just a few things to weigh first.
I’m serious about not using my kids as pawns in my personal and professional quests. I would do nothing without Connor’s permission. I also have to consider the possibility that he misunderstood somehow, or that this might have been a momentary lapse in an otherwise stellar career for this teacher.
Becca and I talked it over at dinner, and she was much more decisive. “I’m sorry, that’s just crazy,” she said. “You have GOT to do something.”
Dale says he’ll keep us updated on the matter. Can’t wait to see what happens.
Any advice for how to go about this successfully?
***Update***: Dale and the teacher have shared a few emails with each other. I’m curious to see if the teacher writes back.
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