In 1546 an aging Henry VIII decided to make large grants of
crown land to England’s two universities, Oxford and Cambridge.
In 1546 an aging Henry VIII decided to make large grants of crown land to England’s two universities, Oxford and Cambridge. Some of his nobles took issue with the size of the gift, claiming that he was being needlessly generous, to which he responded, “I tell you, sirs, that I judge no land in England better bestowed than that which is given to our universities, for by their maintenance our realm may be well governed when we be dead and rotten.”

OK, so he was wise and we are not. Four hundred and sixty years after the Tudor tutorial on education’s long-term return on investment we slice, dice, chop and shred our own education system as though it were a luxury as easily abandoned as a weekly manicure when times get tough.

At our university we raise tuition by 20 percent at the same time we limit the students to too few units per term to graduate on time. In our schools we cut faculty, eliminate programs and bus services, and allow libraries, bathrooms, playgrounds, classrooms and teaching materials to deteriorate for want of upkeep.

Does the education of our children suffer from our steadfast refusal to properly fund the system because it would – heaven forbid – cost us money? That’s pretty much a no-brainer. Do we care? If we do, it’s not obvious.

Having now sunk to this embarrassingly sorry state of child neglect for which, count on it, a price will be paid in the future, I say it’s time to hold our noses, utter a “forgive us, OK?” under our breaths, and do what must be done.

Sell the system. Sell it lock, stock and barrel to the private sector – not literally but functionally. Open the schoolhouse door wide and welcoming to the mercantile world; naming rights, in-class commercials, coupons in the cafeteria – in fact, what the hell, let them open stores on campus catering exclusively to kids. And charge through the nose for the privilege.

The University of California becomes the University of Google. The high school formerly known as Live Oak will be Pfizer High, with a sky-blue rhomboid Viagra tablet for a mascot; its sports teams can call themselves the Fighting Pharmaceuticals.

Every hour of class will include a five-minute interlude of recorded advertisements on which the students will be quizzed later to make sure they’re listening. Teachers will be required to introduce new subjects with precious prefaces like, “This chapter on the French Revolution is brought to you by Verizon Wireless – our revolutionary products guillotine the competition; get a head with Verizon.” The lesson can be punctuated with clever integration of substance and product placement like “Now, if Maximillien Robespierre had just had a Verizon wireless phone with which to arrange his escape he could have avoided his arrest and execution on July 28, 1794.”

Key information necessary to pass Friday’s test can only be found on iTunes at 99 cents a pop; gift cards available at the principal’s office. For your P.E. uniforms (yes, we can now afford lots of P.E.), sweatshirts, official Pfizer High binders, pennants, window decals, mugs, baseball caps, and other logo-emblazoned impulse purchases, be sure to wile away your lunch hour browsing in the handy TargetTeens store conveniently located next to the football field, Lemon Pledge Stadium, where the Fighting Pharmaceuticals will be playing the Fighting Fan Belts of Napa Auto Parts High on Saturday.

Now I know there are people who disagree with the proposition that public education is a worthy destination for a big dose of revenue right now after the Governor and Legislature’s craven determination that State government must live within its means, its means being defined as “whatever taxes a parsimonious public feels like paying so long as no sacrifice is involved,” but I’m past caring; they’re wrong, and this would be a really good time to do something about it, something that involves thinking outside the empty box.

So let’s bite the bullet, tart up the system, and sell it on the street to anyone with major cash and a hankering to advertise their wares. We may not have the wisdom, the clarity of vision, or the common sense of old King Hal but perhaps we can accomplish the same purpose through more modern means, however crass.

Hey, at least we’ll be pimping for a good cause.

Despite being an award-winning columnist, Robert Mitchell doggedly remains the same eccentric attorney who has practiced general law in Morgan Hill for more than 30 years. Reach him at [email protected].

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