Written By Timothy McGuire
One of my greatest fears in this life is a five-year-old pointing a gun at me. This is almost exactly parallel to my desperate fear of being “held up” by a midget or a dwarf of some kind. This is my particular phobia, and it is not meant to indicate any particular common, that is, shared foible or tendency in either category of these children of God, which both are. Certainly a child with a handgun is a terrible thought to anyone. The only people that may not agree with me are running blood diamonds in Africa or commanding countries that rhyme with “I ran,” as in, “I ran into some trouble at school when I drew a stick-figure,” as in, the seven-year-old boy named, who found his way into the state news for this reason and into our poetic little hearts. (the MSNBC article) Like many young tadpoles at this age, his thoughts seem to revolve around what many little boys play, that is, adults, especially some type of exemplar or protagonist. Now, in this tumultuous era, we find that many of our current heroes are in the desert really far away. We know from the news that they are using what appear to be some modern versions of flintlock, which of course the average citizen in America had in his home while this country was founded.
So, if our heroes are in Iraq, like Obama and Giuliani would have us believe, then I say we should examine why they are heroes, and when we have some notion of what it is that they are doing to be heroic, then let us essay to do the same in our own little way. I would suggest protecting all the weak people that we can in our sphere of existence.
I assume that the boy draws things that he likes, or, to rephrase, images that have some value to his person and his little colleagues. Drawing is a creative act, a giving back to the world for all that it has given us, an inspiration to form out of ink and crisp white papyrus, beauty and genuine, interpersonal communication. This is, perhaps, a rather dramatic description of a boy scribbling out a stick-figure with a pop-gun, yet it may be a glimmer of a future artist prodigy. He will first have to overcome the fantastic shock of his suspension from class.
It is true, this maliciously armed stick-man has put our young friend on the wrong side of the school policy against guns. A stick-figure with what I can only dare to call a stick-figure’s stick-gun is contrary to the American schoolboy’s recommended artistic taste. The sacred learning space of New Jersey was grossly and violently polluted, dishonored, and generally shaken up. It seems that the youth shall undergo a sort of government-funded therapy to rid him of these impetuous inclinations, for how else can he be healed of such aberrant behavior patterns.
At any rate, we have all learned a valuable lesson and are reassured that the schools of New Jersey are doing their darnedest to keep our beloved offspring safe from “bad stuff”. I only wish I had received the benefits of this new education in my younger and more formidable years where I, with the help of some tragic playmates, drew vast scenes depicting natural disaster mixed with much stick-figure, cultural strife. I thought, in my ignorance that the only way that the stick-men could resolve their differences, namely the differences in their choice of hat shading, was through violence, and often King Kong himself would offer his services to one side or the other, depending on which army/team had paid their dues to P.E.T.A. Alas, my life has this one blight in an otherwise nonviolent record. I accept full responsibility for these and possibly other drawings of a similar vein, I apologize to my grammar school cronies, who, no doubt are in some sort of institution for violence reform, and most of all the “education providers,” who were possibly in danger without any knowledge heretofore. I will now carry out a self-imposed community service yet to be determined.