Whereby you may guess what kind of state prudence, what love of the people, what care of religion, or good manners there was at the contriving although with singular hypocrisy it pretended to bind books to their good behavior.
-John Milton, Areopagitica, 1644
Before my kids started school last week, we attended the Meet & Greet to see their classrooms and get to know their teachers. My kids go to school in Cobb County, which will become nauseatingly relevant before I’m done. Amid the bustle of finding their desks, filling out their name tags, picking up their teachers’ wish lists, and reporting their transportation options to the thoroughly maddening online portal—no, not CTLS, the other one—my fourth grader’s teacher casually mentioned something that made my heart sink.
As my kid dug through the colorful plastic tubs where her new teacher stores the books in her classroom library, my wife asked her teacher which books she’d be assigning this year. Almost off-handedly, halfway to another handshake and hello, the teacher began, “Well, you know all the books have to be approved by the district this year. So…” and then proceeded to rattle off the handful of titles she’s “taught before and won’t have any trouble getting approved.”
Of course, we didn’t have to ask why all the books had to be approved by the district, nor do I have to remind you that we’re living through an almost unprecedented attack on books and so-called controversial ideas in schools, libraries, and bookstores. Last year alone, attempts to ban books of all kinds in schools and public libraries nearly doubled. I needn’t mention the sanctimonious buffoon governing Florida who has driven dedicated teachers like my children’s to sacrifice their classroom libraries, abandon reading and writing projects, and quit their jobs at truly shocking rates.
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