Dear Editor,
My name is Burt Washington, and I teach science at Templeton Middle School. Teaching is the greatest job in the world. Unlike some of my colleagues, I stay
involved with the kids after the last bell rings. The Templeton Middle School
Young Naturalists' Club is a group I've formed to teach the kids about nature and encourage a kinship with the environment.
We take field trips to Brush Creek, where we test the pH levels of the water,
and we've also visited Lynx Prairie to learn about the rare and beautiful plants that have been there since the Ice Age. But I guess what the kids enjoy most is when we go into the woods with our rifles
and blow shit away.
Several parents have criticized me for allowing children to bear loaded firearms. But life and death are but two sides of the same coin.
If children are to understand wildlife, they need have a little blood on their hands. I encourage the kids to
live in harmony with nature, and abide by its laws. Laws like "kill or be killed," or "mercy is pity."
My students know about their responsibilities
to the planet: we collect papers and cans for recycling, and write letters to our congressmen to preserve our wetlands. And the most vital responsibility of any species: maintaining superior genes through
natural selection, death, and toil.
I see to it that these kids don't grow up stupid and weak. It's my job to prepare them for the horrors they'll encounter later in life, in Junior High School.
I know that if these parents could see how happy the club makes their kids;
they'd change their minds about me. Just yesterday, I took a group of Young Naturalists
out into the woods, all of us armed to our fucking teats with guns. Jimmy Walker,
this feeble kid with asthma, fired buckshot at a squirrel, and knocked it right off the branch. His little face just lit up. When we found the animal it was
still alive, but incapacitated. Well, before I could say anything, the boy takes
the butt of his .22 and beats the rodent to death. It probably would have died
anyways, but Little Jimmy wasn't taking any chances.
Despite breakthroughs like Jimmy, I'm coming under criticism from parents because
of our monthly "Young Naturalists' Retreats." These retreats are really just
overnight field trips into the woods, to teach youngsters the power of murder and fear.
The children are allowed only two implements: a Bowie knife and their god-given wits.
You'd be surprised at the results. Brittany McCoy is this prissy, spoiled little
girl that probably couldn't operate a toaster when she's at home. But you starve
her for twelve hours and put a blade in her hands, and she becomes a hardened, merciless warrior.
I will admit: we've had a couple of deaths.
But they all died of natural causes--starvation and hypothermia--because they were frail, and civilization needed to
thin the herd. None have yet died in battle, though any child may challenge me
for leadership of the Club. If death comes, I welcome it: it will teach the children
about leadership and trust.
I also try to encourage the most attractive,
bright students to ostracize the fat, stupid ones. I constantly assure them that
they've been created to rule over the weak. When these kids copulate, their genetic
material is going to create some wonderful offspring!
Many outside the Club are calling my
methods "unsound." They're becoming frightened, as well they should be. They can little comprehend what I'm building with these children. The power of the hunter is a tempting nectar. I make their
children feel more alive than they've ever been, and this is terrifying. But
in time, they will either come to understand us, or die. That's the natural order,
and it cannot be denied.
Oh, and we're having a pizza party in my room at noon. I could use a couple of parents to volunteer and bring pop and cookies for the kids. Thanks!
Sincerely,
Burt Washington
