Do you know how many knuckled under in the face of directions and orders to do so?
How many were sent to private rooms and separated from their classes.
How many were sent home for "disrespecting the authorities"?
How many did not get the Free and Appropriate Public Education that school districts are supposed to provide?
How many lawsuits will come from the superintendent's decision to enforce a mask mandate?
The legal fees will certainly be higher than his salary and termination pay.
As Larry Small said on Tuesday night, when he addressed the school board, HE is the medical authority in his child's life, not the teacher, not an administrator, not the superintendent, not the school board.
What's next? Will Richland 2 follow California Gov. Gavin Newsom and demand that all students be vaccinated? Wait for it.
Is the school board playing with fire here?
I am reminded of the day I got fired from a job in Denver for refusing to sign a consent form to take a polygraph anytime the company asked me to do so. I told them to get the wires, and I'd take one right then, but I wasn't signing the form.
Of course, I refused. Three days after refusing, I was fired. The reason? Insubordination. When I asked for an expanation, the VP said I have refused to follow company orders. What orders? To sign the form.
I was told to clear out my desk. I got a box, and it took me over an hour. "Let's see; this is my pencil." "Let's see; this is a company pen." The VP was standing at my cubicle, watching me. I said in a loud voice, "Bob! There are only two honest people in this whole company, and they are here in my office. Wait. Maybe three, if we could the old man (the owner). But his sons? Numbers 44 and 45 out of the 45 employees."
I had the last laugh, when the VP walked me to the front door. I asked if he wanted the company papers from the trunk of my car, and we walked to my car. When I opened the trunk, he spotted my 9mm Browing Hi-Power right on top of the company papers. That's the one you can shoot 14 times before you have to re-load. (I had forgotten to clean if after firing at the pistol range the previous week-end.)
His eyes got big as plates, and he was stuck to the ground. I picked up the box (with the gun) and started back to the front door. When he didn't move, I asked, "Bob, if I go back in there, you guys aren't going to beat me up, are you?" He said, "No."
"Well, I guess I won't need this", and I put the gun back in the trunk. That was about 1986, and I'm still laughing.
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