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If you want to see first hand a heartbreaking and absolutely frightening look at the human toll of giving these corrupt teachers unions collective bargaining rights, I urge you again to see what is the most important film of last year, the unfairly Oscar-snubbed (for political reasons) ”Waiting for Superman.”  Written and directed by Davis Guggenheim, the proud, union-loving liberal who won an Oscar for his Global Warming documentary “An Inconvenient Truth,” not only is this searing look at the devastation unions have brought down on our children an exceptionally well produced film, but it’s also a very personal work from a filmmaker who probably had a Road to Damascus moment. Guggenheim went in likely expecting to discover a public school system under assault by budget cuts and underpaid teachers. What he found was the complete opposite. That he told the truth, that he bucked the Leftist narrative and put what’s best for America’s children above his own preconceived notions and then picked a fight with one of the most ruthless unions in America, is to this Oscar winner’s eternal credit.

Examining the failed public school system through the eyes of a number of young children trapped in or headed for what Guggenheim calls “failure factories,” “Waiting for Superman” informs us that education funding is simply not the problem. In fact, when indexed for inflation, education funding has doubled over the last few decades and in return our schools have only gotten worse. The problem is, pure and simple, bad teachers who can’t be fired and the corrupt unions that use “collective bargaining” to make it nearly impossible to fire them. For example, from the New York Times:

“Waiting for ‘Superman” is filled with disturbing statistics. In Illinois, where one in 57 doctors loses his medical license and one in 97 lawyers loses his law license, only one in 2,500 teachers loses his credentials, because of union rules. The film briefly visits a “rubber room” in New York City where idle teachers accused of misconduct wait months and sometimes years for hearings while drawing full salaries at an annual cost of $65 million.

That is the price of collective bargaining. Awful teachers protected by tenure who can’t be terminated. Furthermore, one bad teacher can ruin a child, can set them back to a point where they can never catch up and are likely to drop out due to frustration. In other words, collective bargaining is ruining lives, millions of them all over the country. Here are more examples of this collective bargaining travesty:

In the end, Guggenheim identifies two problems. The first is the conflicting agendas of federal, state and local authorities and the torturous bureaucracy they combine to create. The second is teachers unions that manipulate collective bargaining and politics to stifle reforms and protect blatantly incompetent members.

The latter problem puts progressives and other supporters of traditional public schools in an awful bind. Public schools, as inculcators of common values and a means to help children develop their minds and advance in society, are near and dear to their hearts. But then again so are unions, who supposedly are needed to protect teachers from the twin evils of politicized school boards and the ravages of the marketplace.

And finally, the real kicker:

But as Guggenheim himself observes, many of the obstacles that impede public education in the largest cities also affect schools in the suburbs. That includes interference by teachers unions, though things are not as far along; Superman recounts how school officials in Washington, D.C., have to follow 23 steps to fire a bad teacher. In Adrian, Mich., for example, the process is only 13 steps, but of those only five of those are mandated by the state’s teacher tenure law. At least another half-dozen are creations of the collective bargaining agreement.

For obvious reasons, Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker is focused on the effect collective bargaining has on his State’s budget — which is profound and laid out in detail in this excellent Wall Street Journal piece. But that’s just one reason these godawful public unions must be broken and discarded. ”Waiting for Superman” exposes a much harsher cost, the price this immoral “right” has on generations of America’s children all to the benefit of a selfish few afflicted with a disease we call entitlement.  There are plenty of good teachers out there, but they are lying down with union dogs.

“Waiting for Superman” is a moral piece of righteous filmmaking more relevant today than when it was released last year. Davis Guggenheim deserves our respect for his apostasy and with any luck the next generation of America’s school children will owe him and a number of exceptional Republican governors their thanks.

Part of the rationale behind Big Hollywood’s is due to our belief that movies matter, that they can affect change. My fingers are crossed that that is exactly the case for this one, which is why I continue to spread its gospel.

In Ratatouille, in the obscure French countryside, an aspiring chef, Remy, follows the televised culinary advice of his idol, Auguste Gusteau. Remy dreams of following him, but there’s just one problem: he’s a rat and rats don’t belong in the kitchen. Fate offers Remy an opportunity Separated from his family during a farmer’s raid, Remy falls into the sewage, traveling thousands of miles, until, at last he finds himself underneath Gusteau’s very Parisian restaurant!

 The choice of locale is deliberate, of course. Paris, long the home of big government and bien-pensant, is also the home of gourmands, haute cuisine, and critique, so Remy’s passion might yet find outlet. Alas, in France, the hopes of the entrepreneur are subordinated to the plans of others. The word for the French economic system, “dirigiste,” means to direct and the French love nothing more than to direct their citizenry, and that, of course, includes who is and who is not among the crème de la crème par excellence. While his keen sense of smell saves the family from rat poisoned garbage, Remy knows it still stinks to be a rat who loves food amongst those who couldn’t care less. He is his family’s bête noire. Quelle horreur!

Gusteau was too much of a bon vivant, for as soon as Remy arrives in Paris, he finds that Gusteau is dead. Fortunately, his legacy – and spectre – lives on as Remy’s conscience and, in times of desperation becomes his only companion. He exhorts Remy to be better than his nature, to be more than a rat and a thief: “A chef makes, while a thief takes.” In a moment of despair, Gusteau tells Remy, “If you focus on what you left behind. You will never be able to see what lies ahead.”

The writing is easily the cleverest of the Pixar films. For French speakers, the names are more than a bit of fun. Remy is likely short for Rembrandt, while Auguste Gusteau means “august taste.” Linguini is the noodle of a boy who becomes great as Skinner seeks to cut down the great Gusteau’s restaurant.

Anton Ego’s name needs no explanation, nor does his appearance. Pixar designed him to look like a vulture, which is precisely what many critics have become. Left with nothing but their own ego to satisfy, some critics never recognize that which is truly great, as we see when Ego tells Linguini that he wants his “heart roasted on a spit.” But, as with all great masterpieces, Remy’s great chef d’oeuvre turns even the staunchest critic to a supporter because true excellence needs no marketing.  

For conservatives, there’s much to like. We learn that while “not everyone can be an artist, an artist can come from anywhere” and “Anyone can [cook but], that doesn’t mean that anyone should.” The greats can rise to the top, but that doesn’t mean everyone is great.

Ratatouille is so good it allows us to even overlook Janeane Garofalo, whose politics would sound more believable, if not sensible, were she always to speak with that affected French accent. It just seems far too natural for her.

In The Incredibles, the fear of being sued prompts the superheroes to put away their uniforms for the tedium of office work, a drudgery which suits neither their talents, nor their ambition. Bob Parr, the erstwhile Mr. Incredible feels, well, not so incredible. His gut expands and he can’t fit into his suit; he’s trapped instead, in a life that doesn’t suit him. He makes due, because there are bills to pay and a family to feed. He remains confined to a car and a cubical comically too small to hold him – a comment, perhaps, on our struggling entrepreneurs, retarded as they are, by government more intent to keep the status quo than to celebrate the best? The tone of the film, however, shifts markedly, as we see the Parr family as they were meant to be: kicking ass and fighting for one another.

Their worst enemies, though, aren’t the Syndromes of the world, but the syndrome that places normality above excellence, a mind-crushing conformity that permeates our public schools and our office parks.

Dash, the boy wonder, can run faster than a speeding bullet, but he can’t play sports, because “the world just wants us to fit in, and to fit in, we gotta be like everyone else.” He pleads with his mother, “I’ll only be the best by a tiny bit,” telling her:

Dash: You always say ‘Do your best’, but you don’t really mean it. Why can’t I do the best that I can do?
Helen: Right now, honey, the world just wants us to fit in, and to fit in, we gotta be like everyone else.
Dash: But Dad always said our powers were nothing to be ashamed of, our powers made us special.
Helen: Everyone’s special, Dash.
Dash: [muttering] Which is another way of saying no one is.

“If everyone is special, no one is.”

Ask yourself, have you ever heard a better indictment of what’s wrong with our failed, everyone-gets-a-trophy culture of public education?

The worship and love of materials is our nation’s religion. I’d say it was a new religion, but it’s actually the oldest religion in the world, Paganism.  Judeo-Christian values came from a pagan world with a radical new concept: the Creator, not the creation, should not be worshiped.

Recent leftist hysteria demands the removal of formal religion from public life. But they snuck in a new absolute for which we are not to argue. There’s no “true for you but not for me.” when it comes to the dogma of Global Climate Change. If someone tells me I have to change the light-bulbs in my house or I’m a bad person, I cannot reply, “Who are you to judge?” Their answer will likely start with something like, “Science says…” or “Everyone knows…” or a standard ad hominem like “racist,” “homophobe,” “anti-science,” or “Bible-thumper.”

My children aren’t allowed to hear about God in public school, but my seven-year-old daughter brings home Earth Day bullshit propaganda that instruct children to tell their parents to change light-bulbs, turn off lights, and re-use shopping bags. When my daughter obeys the national religion’s mandate I tell her, “Those aren’t our values. That’s not our religion. We don’t fear capitalism, and we pay for the energy we use. We believe in a God that is not the creation.”

I’d like to announce that Saturday, March 29th 28th from 8:30pm to 9:30pm local time is Creator Hour! We will make a statement that God’s illumination is the ultimate hope for mankind by turning on every light in the house for that one hour. Let your pagan neighbors self-flagellate themselves by depriving themselves of light. We need to make up for their lack of illumination by turning on yard lights, garage lights, maybe even start up the fireplace.

The Earth Hour website calls for us to “Vote Earth,” but  I intend to cast my ballot for the other party: Vote Creator! Turn on the lights and show the pagans that illumination, inspiration, capitalism, creativity and sobriety in the face of hysterics is how we conquer our problems.

So, if you also have a higher opinion of the Creator than you do of fear-mongers, join me and turn on every unnecessary light you can from 8:30 to 9:30pm on the 29th 28th. I’m turning on my pool lights, I’ll light some tiki torches, and I’ll probably leave the fridge open for that hour just to make sure my carbon production offsets the liberal church-ladies shoving their religion down my throat.