For Lack Of A Proper Handbasket

We should all be worried. Some day in the near future, we may not even have handbaskets available for the express elevator ride to Hell. Especially if the youth of our nation, my son's generation, are running the handbasket factories.

Two conversations today convinced me of our plight. The first was with my #1 son on the way home from school.

Mrs. Basementia Buddy says my class is a bunch of idiots.
That's a surprise?
Not really. She tells us that all the time.
Then why are you bringing it up now?
Today she said something about a preposition, and we said, "What's that?"
You mean none of you knew what a preposition was?
No. Nobody's ever taught us.
Seriously, you're in 8th grade, and you've never heard of a preposition.
No. Mrs. Basementia Buddy said she learned it on Grammer Rock 30 years ago when she was in 3rd grade.
Yeah, me too.
Mom. You were not in 3rd grade 30 years ago.
OK. But listen to this.
Yeah, she sang it for us too. Then she started on Conjunction Junction.
Ooh, I love that one. Conjunction Junction, what's your function...
Alright. Enough. We told her we KNEW that one.
How do you know a conjunction if you don't know a preposition?
Duh. We learned it yesterday. In choir.
Wait a minute. You learned about conjunctions in choir?
Uh huh. Mr. H teaches us a lot of things. He plays Grammar Rock.
Thank the Gummi Mary! At least the choir teacher is learnin' youse English.
(OK, that's not exactly what I said, but you get my drift)

The other most depressing moment of realization came in my Algebra class.
Mrs. Math Crony doesn't like me.
Why would you say that?
Because every day, she yells at me.
Yeah, that's how she is. She picks out someone in each class to not like.
Who does she not like in your class?
ME.
Well, I have her 7th hour. Yesterday, I just put my hand on her desk, and she said she was going to send me to the office.
She doesn't like anybody touching her desk.
I know that NOW.
So don't touch her desk.
But the other day, I don't even know what I was saying, and she said, "Unfavorite Girl, just stop it. You are SO annoying!"
Well, maybe you shouldn't have been talking.
I can't stand her. I like all of my other teachers, but I want to put her on my 'Hit List.'
Wait a minute. Watch what you're saying. You can't say 'Hit List,' or you can get kicked out of school.
Yeah. Remember that girl a couple years ago with the hit list and three knives? She got sent away for over a year.
What's wrong with a Hit List? It just means a list of people you want to hit.
No. It means people you want to kill.
Oh. Well, I don't hate Mrs. Math Crony THAT much! I just want to hit her.

And for a bonus, let me throw in this gem from my tech students.
That's really gay.
You can't say that. It's one of the hate words you can't use at school.
What is?
Gay.
That's not a bad word.
It's the way you are using it.
So if we say it the correct word, it's OK? Like, "Stop being such a homosexual."
Um. No. It's the WAY you are using it, as an insult, in a negative way.
I don't get it.
I've had people in other years say things like, "You're so Jewish!" And "Don't be such a Mexican!" You are not allowed to say things like that at school.
Why would anybody call anyone Jewish?

I give up.
I'm leaving the burden of educating the leaders of the future to Mr. H.