This is the continuation of my last blog entry when I kicked up a stink about the teaching of values here in Cuba. I’ll now repeat my tantrum, but this time basing my argument on several myths often used by those who appeal to Marxist rhetoric. Let’s see how it comes out.
How is it possible that prestigious and experienced doctors of science have such a pathetic concept of pedagogy? What right do those scientists have to manipulate the minds of people?
In my daycare center, and later in all my schools, all of the teachers were in one way or another fond of this same dictatorial method. This was the most effective way (they believed) for controlling brats, of which there were plenty in the classrooms of marginal neighborhoods like mine.
At ten in the morning, the pounding on our door resounded as if it were the owner himself. Thinking it was either some brash jerk or a family member, I was fuming when I went to opent the door. Standing on the other side was a seasoned nurse waiting impatiently.
I dedicate this diary post to those who accuse me of being a faultfinder who proposes nothing.
I had already experienced 20 years of life when I entered the world of drugs for the first time. On days when there were parties among circles at the university, we all kicked in to buy chispaetrén (distilled home-brewed alcohol having the taste of kerosene).
Praiseworthy actions have been taken since then to protect homosexuals and to promote a healthier sexual mentality. To continue and consolidate this work, I proposed that a program be created to compensate the victims of that homophobic terror of the past.
To my surprise, I can now count on an enthusiastic gang of kids who hound me to take them to work on the “park.” Though these youngsters each measure less than four feet, they work hard for their age and without anyone forcing them. They cut the grass, water the plants and, in short, have appropriated this project without a great deal effort or any arm-twisting.
Truth -like its relative: the muse- can seldom be caught, and much less caged. We are not even able to put it to pasture, like one 20th century thinker attempted, without dying of boredom from the melody of a flute.
Ubieta tosses Yoani into that same sack, an accusation of extreme seriousness in a country where to explicitly or publicly oppose the government can land you in jail. Precisely because of the considerable weight of the accusation, we would expect that the journalist’s justifications for these charges were solidly founded.