Julie Writes a Death Waiver

Today’s Brew: Coffee beans crushed into a fine dust and put into a wind machine that I stand in the center of.

By Julie 

Like many, I’m increasingly slack-jawed at the “options” we have about going back to school. I am not irritated at the lack of solid information we’ve been given because NOBODY KNOWS. They don’t know. Right or wrong, nobody knows what’s going to happen next month except, “hey, it’s probably getting worse.”

What does irritate me is that we’re all up in arms about going back to school, how much it’s needed, and this is a system that has not worked for a lot of people for a very long time. Between bullying, racism, paying for the bus, adjusting to teachers, IEPs and adjustment counseling, let alone the horrendous curriculum, why are we fighting to get kids back into a death trap so quickly?

Some death waivers have been passed around for parents to sign to let their kids back into school in September, but I thought I’d write some quickie ones to make it more comprehensive.

“Would you like to learn somewhat false history written by old white dudes, about old white dudes with a rumbling terror for you life or without a rumbling terror for your life?”

“Would you like to memorize dates and names without any practical space in which to apply this knowledge in a death box or on your sofa?”

“Would you like to practice the many different core math methods in your own time, given that not all of them will agree with you, or would you like to dedicate the same time to all of them, thus defeating the purpose of having different methods to choose from, or would you like to breathe regularly?”

“Would you like to be removed from class on a number of occasions to meet with specialists who will help you ‘adjust’ while ignoring your schoolwork, to focus on what’s wrong with you, or would you like to be supported while living?”

“Would you like to put on clothes again to take part in an outdated system that pukes one-sided views at you or would you like to survive?”

“Would you like to learn on your own time, spending more time on one subject you’re having a hard time with and less on another that you understand or would you like to do it all the way I tell you to and also die?”

“Would you like to live comfortably or spend your days with people you have to cope with and maybe die?”

“Would you like to return to (not) having lunch with friends, (not) having recess with them, (not) working in groups and experiencing community or would you like to enter an unpredictable death race?”

“Would you like to stay in your underwear and not eat school food or would you like to possibly perish?”

“Would you like to be socialized with a group of your peers without actual interaction, but with an enormous death threat?”

“Would you like to return to the life of IEPs and being told you don’t even fit into the boxes of kids that don’t learn like everyone else, but can die like you, or would you like to learn in a way that makes sense?”

“Would you like to live under the ever-present shifting target of state testing with the grim specter of doom looking over your shoulder or learn virtually?”

“Would you mind wearing a mask all day to do work you don’t want to do so that you can die with friends?”

“Would you like to be graded upon an archaic system that doesn’t recognize effort or learning curve and have your weekly therapy include the cloud of your demise contained in your school walls or would you like to not do that?”

“Would you like to participate in dozens of fundraisers and maybe die or would you like to spend your money on other things?”

“Would you like to not learn life skills but also possibly give up your life?”

“Would you like to continue to miss your friends or be virtually encased in a bubble to make eye contact with them, while still risking that all of you could cough to death?”

“Would you like to learn stagnant information in conjunction with how to cope with inevitable loss?”

I’ve been thinking of sending one of these a day to the Board of Education. I’m sure the response would be startling.


Published by Julie Hutchings, Pretty Scary Author

I write scary stories with pretty insides. Mythology-twisting author and editor, reptile hoarder, coffee drinker, harpy. Author of The Vampires of Fate and The Harpy.

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