Education is everything. But this isn’t necessarily a fact you realize when you’re younger and in school because, honestly, school is all you know. Basically, it’s your life. You wake up, you go to school, you go home, do homework, go to sleep and repeat the process the next day. In essence school is your very first job until you enter the real workforce, and that’s when everything changes.
One of my most memorable jobs was at an establishment who, for years, were running their workers ragged and transforming the morale of their company into a den of misery, despair and uncertainty. However, on the surface, they promoted that it was still very much a family environment. Even though they were changing everything, including their infrastructure, they kept that facade strong and ongoing.
All of my fellow co-workers knew about the changes taking place and I would occasionally comment with “You know we’re in the midst of an acquisition right?”
“SHHHHHH!!!!” They’d warn, like they were afraid Massah would overhear me complaining about the quality of the cotton in the field. “It’s not! Don’t say that.”
I mention all of this because I believe you need to speak truthfully about situations. Why sugarcoat shit, especially if it’s important enough to be said.
The school district of Philly is broke. The school district administrators aren’t broke, but the entity that’s supposed to provide for all of the schools in Philadelphia is hemorrhaging money. Therefore, extra money has to come from somewhere, right?
One way that Philly has attempted to garner more money is through the time honored tradition of taxation.
In June 2014 Philly passed a law that enforces a $2 per pack cigarette tax.
What this proves is that Philadelphians love their sodas and their cigarettes. And it’s true because when I was little my aunt used to send me and my cousins to the corner store every day for a pack of Kools, a Pepsi and a Daily News.
What else do Philadelphians love?
Hell, I know I do. (don’t click that. TOTALLY NSFW)
Last week a court ruled against Mayor
Nutsack’s Nutter’s proposed tax on lap dances, of all things.
Now, this seems like a stretch. Cigarette’s I can understand because that’s a multimillionaire dollar business. But a lap dance?
Come on now.
That’s a flat rate exchange between the dancer and the client.
I give you $10, you escort me back to the Champagne Room, grind all on my shit and then we both go on about our business unless I would like to revisit our earlier transaction with another $10. I don’t have time to be scrounging up coins for these strippers. And, unless something has gone horribly wrong inside of their bodies, there’s no such thing as a stripper that dispenses change at will from their exposed body parts.
This attempt at a tax was, in my opinion, the mark of a city government who is running out of ideas and scraping the bottom of the barrel. That fact is evident when you consider they actually had the audacity to consider taxing lap dances.
For real y’all? Lap dances?
Because, of course, no one wants to take a pay cut or remove monies allocated to stupid shit like the astronomical salaries of School District officials. Oh my God, can you imagine that??
The administrative side of Philadelphia’s educational system is swimming in pools of money while schools are closing at a rapid rate. And who I fear for the most are the kids that are being displaced out of their schools and having to relocate to other schools where they may not receive the quality of education they’re accustomed to. Or even the disenfranchised students who think that having an education is a waste of time since our society values money more than anything else.
How can we tell our children to stay in school when the concept of education is undervalued and our schools are rapidly disappearing?
The days of placing education as the most important thing one can obtain in life has gone out the window with pay phones and manners. The intelligence of our nations continues to scream for our attention. Unfortunately money speaks at the loudest volume and nobody can hear that cry for help anymore.