#Ron Church

[vintagewildlife]

Angelshark By: Ron Church From: The Fascinating Secrets of Oceans & Islands 1972

[images-mcm-mexico-california]

Southern California, 1960s

image by Ron Church

[ronsenthal]

"Slim, fairly tall, dark hair, stern, ruggedly handsome"

[blood-mocha-latte]

franz kafka | letters to milena | ten band of brothers ships | ten lines | installment four: speirton preview | installment five: luztoye previous installments: winnix, baberoe, & webgott

edits taglist below the cut (contact to be added/removed):

@frstcorinthians @lamialamia @ep6bastogne @whollyjoly @flashnthunder @dcyllom @mutantmanifesto

taglist for the kafka series:

@impalachick @grumpy-liebgott

[bigdadskypilot]

“Don't join the book burners. Don't think you're going to conceal faults by concealing evidence that they ever existed. Don't be afraid to go in your library and read every book...”

― Dwight D. Eisenhower

Republicans today are the antithesis of what they once were. They bear no resemblance to Abraham Lincoln, Theodore Roosevelt, or Dwight Eisenhower. They are not erudite like William F. Buckley. They are identified by the horrible things they stand for: hate, fear, and violence. They wrap themselves in flags and clutch bibles, while displaying the honor and loyalty of neither. Any dedication to the principles upon which this nation was founded demands full and complete opposition to them. If that’s what makes me a “liberal.” Then so be it.

[contemplatingoutlander]

The above is a gift link 🎁 for this excellent report/commentary by Michelle Goldberg about what is happening at the New College of Florida under Ron DeSantis. If you click on the link, you can read the entire article, even if you do not subscribe to The New York Times.

DeSantis has replaced the president of the college and the board of governors with right-wing partisans (including the far right culture warrior Chris Rufo), who want to remake this small, highly-ranked, public liberal arts college into a copy of the private, Christian, conservative Hillsdale College. 

Given the above, one of my primary questions is how can a state college be allowed to be turned into a “Christian” college? 

It’s like DeSantis thinks it is fine to just completely ignore the First Amendment’s Establishment clause, not to mention ignoring the First Amendment’s free speech protections (by attempting to limit what can be discussed/ taught at public colleges and universities).

Below are some excerpts from the article:

When I spoke to [Chris] Rufo in early January, he said that New College would look very different in the following 120 days. Nearly four months later, that hasn’t entirely come to pass, but it’s clear where things are headed.

The new trustees fired the school’s president, replacing her with Richard Corcoran, the Republican former speaker of the Florida House. They fired its chief diversity officer and dismantled the diversity, equity and inclusion office. As I was writing this on Friday, several people sent me photographs of gender-neutral signage scraped off school bathrooms. [...] Whatever New College’s administration does, this will likely be the last year classes like the ones [student Sam] Sharf is taking are offered, because a bill making its way through the Florida Legislature requires the review of curriculums “based on theories that systemic racism, sexism, oppression, and privilege are inherent in the institutions of the United States.” The sense of dread on campus, however, goes beyond what’s happening in Tallahassee.

Eliana Salzhauer, whose 17-year-old son is a New College economics student, compared the seemingly inexorable transformation of the school to Twitter under Elon Musk: It looked the same at first, even as it gradually degraded into a completely different experience. “They are turning a top-rated academic institution into a third-rate athletic facility,” she said.

Salzhauer was referring, in part, to the hiring of Mariano Jimenez, who previously worked at Speir’s Inspiration Academy, as athletic director and head baseball coach, even though there’s no baseball diamond on campus. In the past, New College hasn’t had traditional sports teams, but the administration is now recruiting student athletes, and Corcoran has said he wants to establish fraternities and sororities, likely creating a culture clash with New College’s artsy queer kids, activists and autodidacts. Before Wednesday’s board meeting, about 75 people held a protest outside. “We’re Nerds & Geeks, not Jocks & Greeks,” said one sign.

[See more under the cut.]

For many, the board of trustees meeting was the clearest sign yet that this is the last semester of New College as they know it. The pivot point was the trustees’ decision to override the typical tenure process. New College hired a large number of new faculty five years ago, and this year was the first that any of them could apply for tenure. [...] Corcoran, however, had asked all the professors up for tenure this year to withdraw their applications because of the tumult at the school. Two of the seven agreed. The rest — three of them professors in the hard sciences — held out for the board’s vote. This was widely seen as a referendum not just on the individual candidates, but on faculty independence.

Fifty-four people registered to speak at the meeting. All but one of them either implored the trustees to grant the professors tenure or lambasted them for their designs on the school. Parents were particularly impassioned; many of them had been profoundly relieved to find an affordable school where their eccentric kids could thrive. Some tried to speak the language of conservatism: “You’re violating my parental rights regarding our school choice,” said Pam Pare, the mother of a biology major. One student, a second-year wrapped in a pink and blue trans flag, was escorted out of the meeting after cursing at Corcoran, but most tried to earnestly and calmly convey how much the professors up for tenure had taught them.

It was all futile. A majority of the trustees voted down each of the candidates in turn as the crowd chanted, “Shame on you!” That’s when [faculty chair Matthew] Lepinski quit, walking out of the room to cheers. [...] “Some faculty members have started to leave already, and obviously some students are thinking about what their future looks like,” Lepinski said right after quitting. A few days later, we spoke again. “There’s a grieving process for the New College that was, which is passing away,” he said. “I really loved the New College that was, but I am at peace that it’s gone now.”

Rufo couldn’t attend Wednesday’s meeting in person, because he’d been delayed coming home from Hungary, where he had a fellowship at a right-wing think tank closely tied to Viktor Orban’s government. (This seemed fitting, since Orban’s Hungary created the template for Rufo and Desantis’s educational crusade.) Instead, he Zoomed in, his face projected on a movie screen behind the other trustees.

After Lepinski quit, Rufo tweeted that “any faculty that prefer the old system of unfettered left-wing activism and a rubber-stamp board are free to self-select out.” Turnover, he added, “is to be expected — even welcomed. But we are making rapid, significant progress.” He and his allies haven’t built anything new at New College yet. They are succeeding, however, in tearing something down.

It makes sense that Chris Rufo, the activist who spearheaded the right-wing anti-CRT crusade, has recently been taking notes on how to create a very conservative college based on a “template” from the neofascist Viktor Orban’s Hungary.

I hope that lawsuits will be filed against DeSantis and the New College president and board of governors for their assault on First Amendment freedom of speech protections and the Establishment clause by Florida’s attempts to turn New College into a state funded conservative “Christian” liberal arts college.

[whiskyinteacup]

182848th rewatch of the scene in rachamp's cathedral, and there's still not one (1) heterosexual explanation for it

[theexodvs]

Given the (warranted) suspicion given towards the disease denialism found in both Christian Science and Scientology, it can be said that if the claims of the neurodiversity movement were attached to organized religion, they too would be constantly lambasted.

[lightningmonarchda3]

i want an asexual harry potter who doesn't date or marry anyone, moves out of the country, goes to Australia, becomes hermoine's (obliviatated) parents' neighbour, kinda puts down magic (not completely), takes evening classes, gets a diploma, goes to uni to study sociology and psychology, startes living a peaceful life, goes to churches on sundays bc he likes the choir and a little bc he remembers remus going to church on sundays, helps organisations to get abused children and people out of the abusive environments, gets a cat, becomes a single parent and adopts a kid, watches his kid grow old, gets cancer and dies.

[latibvles]

the names we call upon.

alternatively : the SBT DND au that absolutely nobody asked for featuring: Daisy, a bad dream, a stormy night, and a rogue in a particularly tight spot. trust that there will be more of this in the future. this au has a damn spreadsheet now.

Candlelight. That metallic smell. Long shadows across the walls. Shadows never cast in the temple — why had they started? The building shakes, rattles. Labored breathing. Her own. Someone else’s. She can’t pin name to face.

Eyes like honey and moss staring straight through her. A comfort. Her hands are trembling. The light is still draining from his eyes. She could save him. So why can’t she move?

A scream. Identifiable.

James.

It was the lightning and thunder accompanying that woke her. A full-body thing. Daisy would take in a deep breath, her whole body lurching forward, and once she was fully conscious she heaved, tuning into the rain hammering against the window. She tilted her head until her temple rested against the cool glass, and another streak of lightning split the sky in two and lit up the room for a brief second.

How often had she had that dream?

Too often, the Mother believed that sometimes the Gods spoke through their worshippers, but apparently that ability was only reserved for those devoted to it. Not for Daisy, whose power was inexplicable, and had brimmed beneath the surface of her skin since she was a child. The Mother had glamoured that one out of her, freshly fifteen, her brother beside her begging to be taken in, sheltered, after the death of their mother.

It’d been a storm not too dissimilar from this one. But the dreams hadn’t started until a month ago. They weren’t enough for the Mother to interpret and they weren’t enough to deter James from leaving on a job that took him far from her, with the promise to write and return.

He’d done neither, the dreams persisted, and despite the nagging feeling in her stomach that this was more — she ignored it, pressed it down and tucked it away.

Shaking. Shadows. Screaming. Hazel eyes that she knew weren’t her brother’s. It wasn’t much to go off of anyways. Even if it frightened her on nights like this one.

Daisy let out a sigh as she swung her feet over the side, disregarding the sheet. Across from her, Sister Catrice slept soundly, and so Daisy did her best to avoid the floorboards that creaked as she went to grab her shawl from where it draped over her desk chair and slipped out the room into the hallway. Illuminated by candles in the hallways, she figured to do the only thing she’d been advised to do since the dreams began.

She was going to pray, and beg for her goddess’ forgiveness, as she’d done multiple times before. Even, she thought bitterly, as she made her way into the main altar room, if it hasn’t done anything at all.

The statue of Chauntea casted no shadows over the pews, as though even the stone recreation of her likeness didn’t want her followers to be shrouded in darkness. Round cheeks, braids carved from stone, a gown that looks impossibly fluid in spite of its stiff material. She’d marveled at this, once, amazed at how just the sight of her radiated comfort. Warmth.

The Earthmother would have to forgive her for not being happy to see her this past month.

Outside, the storm raged on. In here, Daisy was entirely on her lonesome. The Sisters were all asleep, the candles only lit because the Mother had a thing about not shrouding the altar room in darkness. It’s why she’d glamoured away the shadows. Ultimately made little difference to Daisy, who’s eyes could easily accommodate for the dark.

The Mother taught her that she should approach the statue, and kneel before it. That was the right way to pray. So she did so, clutching her fraying shawl tighter around herself and taking in a trembling breath.

This part was always the hardest part.

“Our Earthmother,” Daisy began, chest already tightening. She didn’t want to mess this up. “Hallowed be thy name…”

She’d gotten so used to calculating every word, that just talking felt nearly impossible. That’s what the Mother said, that prayer was just talking to the goddess, and her case, asking for forgiveness. But as far as Daisy was concerned she didn’t do anything wrong. She whispered her thanks to her every morning, prayed every sunset with the sisters for spells even though she didn’t need to, left offerings at the altar, did everything she was supposed to do and yet…

“For a month and a day I’ve begged for your forgiveness, to relieve me of these horrid visions that plague my dreams…” she took in a trembling breath as the rain came down harder, hammering against the stained glass of the temple. “I haven’t asked for anything more. Not protection for my brother, wherever he is, or the whereabouts of my father. Just to rid me of these dreams.” Calling them dreams didn’t even feel correct. Not in their frequency, not in their feeling. Her heart shouldn’t hurt so much every time she watched the hazel-eyed man die. It shouldn’t feel so real.

Daisy clenched her jaw.

“If you won’t rid me of these visions, then please, show me the way in which I might cast them out myself.”

Thunder boomed, lightning flashed outside, and the door slammed open. Daisy scrambled to her feet, turning around, and the sight made her heart leap into her throat.

She saw the knife first.

It dripped crimson on the floor, hooked at the end. James told her people did that to tear, cause damage on the way in and the way out. And magic crackled in her palms before she realized how pale this man was, how he stumbled.

He nearly toppled into a candle holder as a shoulder slammed into the wall. He hit the floor and Daisy’s feet were moving before she could even think.

“Hey, hey, you.” She lightly tapped at his face. His hair was dark and wet from the rain, his skin a sickly gray, and he had stubble across his jaw. The hand that wasn’t barely holding onto the knife was clutching at his side.

Daisy reached up to undo the clasp on his cloak. He was hot to the touch. His eyes opened in a squint, and he grunted.

“Can you hear me?” She asked. And the man said nothing, just nodded weakly. “Okay, well… I need you to open your eyes.” The black cloak slid off him with little fuss, weighed down by rain. Still, his eyes didn’t move past that barely visible squint. Daisy sighed, and reluctantly slid his shirt up to expose his midriff.

Bandages with a brown stain wrapped tight around his midsection. Reluctantly, Daisy went for his knife, and with that hooked tip caught some of the linen to cut it away. Unwrapping and unwrapping. The man shivered, sweating, and then coughed hard. Blood, so dark it was nearly black, stained his teeth.

She understood the moment she got the bandages off. And Daisy might be in over her head.

The puncture wound just below his ribs, the hole oozed a green substance, black veins stretching from the wound. Poison.

Her heart was pounding in her ears. Hands trembling, every joint locked up as she stared. His breathing became more labored and she watched his chest rise and fall with more and more effort. He was wheezing. She should get the Mother. Or wake a sister. Or heal it herself. Do something. But she was paralyzed. One wrong move. All it takes is one wrong move. So the solution is to do nothing?! That voice in her head screamed it at her. She looked at his pale, withering face. Finally, he opened his eyes, bloodshot, and hazel like—

Thunder rattled the building. Trembling hands.

Eyes like honey and moss.

Bile burned at her throat. Blood pounded in her ears. Her hands didn’t stop shaking and she wanted to say something but she couldn't. Words dying on her tongue, lungs aching. She was hardly breathing. His head lolled back against the wall, fading.

“Hey, hey, no, look at me, come on,” she reached over, taking his face in her hands and tilting him back towards her, spurred into motion. “There we go. Do you have a name? Tell me that?” He took a deep breath..

“Ron—” he didn’t finish, coughing up more of that black blood of his. Daisy didn’t pry for more.

“Okay, Ron, I’m Daisy and I…” she looked down at his wound. The Mother rarely let her around the sick. She thought letting Daisy use her magic was heretical. Could she even do this? It didn’t matter. She had to try. “I’m going to help you, okay? I just need you to stay awake.” She takes a shuddering breath.

Great Mother, if you’ve ever been on my side, now would be a great time to show it.

Ron watched her like a hawk, as she approached the wound with trembling fingers, energy crackling beneath the surface of her skin. It was an incantation, one of the few they’d been willing to teach her but she hadn’t much practice with it. She knew the spell well enough, hoped it worked, watched as green pus brushed against her fingers and tried not to apologize when Ron flinched immediately on contact.

It was easier to recite in Elvish, where every word felt like a song.

It felt like everything fell silent. For a moment, nothing happened. Just Daisy, repeating the incantation over and over again, and Ron staring, watching, burning a hole right through her being, like if this failed he’d definitely haunt her for the rest of her days.

Then a glow, warm and golden, stretching from her fingers, pushing into the hole in his side and lighting up the black veins with a yellow glow. She could feel it, the poison reacting to her magic, trying to push back and fizzling out as she put more force behind it, allowing her finger tips to press up against his skin.

Some color returned to his face, but barely any. And he was still sweaty, and cold from the rain. So if the poison didn’t take him, then pneumonia damn well could become a second contender.

Daisy let the spell fizzle out, and left in its wake was a small, fleshy wound which no longer bled. Ron leaned over to rummage through his bag, and knowing how this was meant to go, Daisy felt her heart drop in her stomach.

“You don’t need to— I don’t want any… offerings,” Because it wasn’t a cleric that healed him, so who would she be to take an offering for the altar? It felt disingenuous. Ron looked back at her, and without poison sucking the life from him, his stare seemed to double in intensity. She couldn’t tell if that was his resting face or if he lived in a state of constant alertness. Given the state of his knife, either seemed possible. He cleared his throat.

“You said your name was Daisy, right?” His voice was rough, he still leaned up against the wall. Daisy nodded.

“And yours is Ron?”

“Ronald.”

“Right. Ronald.” He looked at her and despite the intensity of that stare, she held his gaze. No doubt about it, she knew those eyes, was haunted by them for a whole month. What they would look like with no life in them. But he lived.

“How far is Secomber from here?” He asked, eyeing the door. Daisy’s brows furrowed, watching.

“You won’t get anywhere far. Not with this rain,” Knowing that wasn’t what he asked, but still giving him that answer. She watched as he pulled himself to his feet but wobbled on the way up, and raised a brow when he looked at her again, an affirmative of yes, I saw that, going unsaid between them. “We have racks in the back for travelers. I can put your clothes by the hearth so they’re dry in the morning.”

Ronald picked up his waterlogged cloak, drip drip dripping onto the floor, but his eyes never left hers as she stood up, giving her a slight shake of his head.

“You don’t have to do that.” He responded, and lapsing back into herself, Daisy shook her head.

“It’s not about having to do anything. You’ll drown in the river before you make it halfway down the road,” And, she added silently, I have questions in the morning and you might have the answers. She dug her feet in. “After a wound like that I think the flu would be a pretty lackluster way to go out.” Ronald’s eyes widened just barely at her remark, and a sense of amusement bubbled in her at catching him off guard.

Maybe he'd realized that she wouldn’t let up, or maybe he was still too wobbly, but Ronald sighed, pushing his damp hair out of his eyes. She almost wished he hadn’t done that, because now there really wasn’t any doubt.

“Thank you, Sister Daisy.” She immediately shook her head.

“Just Daisy is fine.” She didn’t miss that flash of confusion, but now wasn’t the time to get into the semantics of her place here, and how she, by all accounts, didn’t technically have one.

“Just Daisy, then,” Signed, sealed, delivered — he looked at her expectantly, and with that she turned on her heel, leading him down one of the temple’s many corridors towards one of the rooms they kept for weary travelers.

Even with her back turned, she could still see those eyes of his, as vivid as they had been in her dream.

[msclaritea]

It's Scientology: Life After A Cult morning recap. The gang had a hugely positive get together down in Clearwater, Pasadena Scientology is in hot water with the local Fire department, and more drama at the Chicago Scientology org.

Good Natalie Webster talks about and confirms that the Cult of #Scientology has engaged in widespread abuse of men, women and most especially children. They have kidnapped children away from their families through forced separation, using them for Labor. This evil crap has been going on for decades in our supposedly Democratic country; not one finger lifted by the government to stop this. EVIL.

[logans-mormon-blog]

Missed a visit from the missionaries by SECONDS. Truly God's hand in my life

[yr-obedt-cicero]

The “orphan” boy Hamilton spent his last night with

After Hamilton completed his valedictory note to Eliza in his upstairs study at 54 Cedar Street, he went downstairs and entered a bedroom where a boy was reading a book. This must have been the orphaned boy who had attended the recent out-door party at the Grange. In an unpublished fragment that may have embroidered the truth, John Church Hamilton reveals that his father entered the room, gazed pensively at the boy, and asked if he would share his bed that night. Hamilton “soon retired, and placing [the boy’s] little hands on his own, he repeated with him the Lord’s Prayer.” The child then fell asleep in his arms. This image of Hamilton sleeping with his arms wrapped around an orphaned youth during his last night on earth is inexpressibly poignant and makes one think that his own tormented boy-hood weighed on his mind that night. At three o’clock in the morning, Hamilton awoke one of his sons and asked the drowsy boy to light a candle.

Source — Alexander Hamilton, by Ron Chernow, page 699

Chernow paints this sentimental scene of Hamilton - who was once an unloved orphan in his boyhood - spending his last night before the mortal duel with a young orphan, just like him. But is this actually true? The story John Church Hamilton tells that Chernow is referring to is page 827 of Life of Alexander Hamilton, where he says;

He then descended from his study, entered a parlour, and looking pensively, a few moments, upon one of his sons, then a child, as he leaned over his book, he smiling asked him if he would sleep with him. He soon retired, and placing his little hands in his own, he repeated with him the Lord's prayer. His child fell asleep in his arms.

Source — Life of Alexander Hamilton, by John Church Hamilton

The additional details after the night are sourced by Four letters on the death of Alexander Hamilton, 1804, by David B. Ogden. The letter describing such was written by Governor Morris's nephew, David Ogden. Apparently it was passed down in his family until finally being printed in 1980. Inside details;

On the Evening before the Duel Genl. Hamilton went to bed uncommonly early. He slept soundly until about three O’Clock in the morning, when he awoke his son who slept with him and asked him to light a candle, his son asked him what was the matter he replied that one of his little sisters was taken ill out of town and his mother had sent for him & that he was going out with Doctor Hosack. After the candle was lighted he sat down & wrote a beautiful hymn which he had but just finished when his second & the Surgeon called for him, this hymn he put in his Will where it was found.

Source — Four letters on the death of Alexander Hamilton, 1804, by David B. Ogden

A common pattern here being this unnamed boy. Ogden and John both say it was one of Hamilton's sons, but Chernow claims him to be an adopted orphan. Chernow gives no sources in regards to the “out-door party at the Grange” he mentions, and neither John, nor Ogden ever mention it about being an adopted child. So, who actually was this child? It is John Church himself. He was eleven years old at the time, but years later he was interviewed at the age of 85, and described this exact incident;

I recall a single incident about it with full clearness. [...] The day before the duel I was sitting in a room, when, at a slight noise, I turned around and saw my father in the doorway, standing silently there and looking at me with a most sweet and beautiful expression of countenance. It was full of tenderness, and without any of the business pre-occupation he sometimes had. “John,” he said, when I had discovered him, “won't you come and sleep with me to-night?” His voice was frank as if he had been my brother instead of my father. That night I went to his bed, and in the morning very early he awakened me, and taking my hands in his palms, all four hands extended, he said and told me to repeat the Lord's Prayer. Seventy-five years have since passed over my head, and I have forgotten many things, but not that tender expression when he stood looking at me in the door nor the prayer we made together the morning before the duel. I do not so well recollect seeing him lie upon his deathbed, though I was there.

Source — Interview with John Church Hamilton, reminiscences about his father

Alexander Hamilton Jr even supports this later in an interview where he mentions how his “youngest brother” and him went with their father to his office (Quotations are necessary, since Alexander is likely not referring to Little Phil, but rather William or John. As he mistakes himself for being older than Philip earlier in the interview); “On the day of my father's duel with Burr my youngest brother and I were in his office in Pearl street, having come earlier in the day from the family seat,” [x]

So, if it was John, why would he alienate himself from the event and talk in third person as if he were not the boy himself? John C. dissociated the biography from himself throughout the whole of it, he never mentions himself, or even brings up anything in familia context or manner. John went with the approach of erasing his connection to Hamilton in the volumes to avoid criticisms of biasness. As such, he refers to himself as nothing but just one of Hamilton's sons, and nothing I have found actually significantly proves the existence of this so-called “orphan boy” Chernow brings up.

[ronmayhewphotography]

The Giant Oaks at the Sheldon Church Ruins

Sheldon Church Ruins – Infrared The Old Oaks at Sheldon Church   The giant oak trees surrounding the ruins of Sheldon Church have witnessed much. They were likely there in the mid-eighteenth century when the church was constructed and twice saw its destruction. They add to the site’s natural beauty and historical significance. These majestic oak trees are visually stunning and contribute to the…

[whatisonthemoon]

CIA efforts to seize Scientology?

According to L. Ron Hubbard, who may or may not be saying this in order to obscure his own cooperation with the CIA:

The reason for this declaration is the consistent disaster visited upon her "allies" by the United States government and the efforts of that government since 1955, stepped up since 1963, to seize Scientology in the United States rather than forbid or stop it and the role played by the United States in inspiring the Victorian State attacks in Australia. Scientology technology is no longer offered to the United States government in any effort to assist her in political ends. Our participation extends only to our willingness to process U.S. officials as individuals unconnected with their political aims, if as individuals they are not debarred by other existing policies relating to treating the insane or our Ethics system. 

Hubbard, L. Ron "Politics, Freedom From" LRH Secretarial Executive Directive 56 Int 14 June 1965 reissued as Hubbard Communication Office Policy Letter 10 January 1968

[contemplatingoutlander]

So these are the ways the right-wing, white “Christian” nationalist agenda is being written into Florida’s new “patriotic” civics education standards. The slides shown are bad enough but according to the article:

Educators interviewed by the Herald/Times said that most of their concerns took place during the explanation of the materials.

Below are a few of the troubling slides from the Florida Department of Education’s (DE) training that grossly distort American history to serve this right-wing agenda. [NOTE: all red underlining in these slides was added.]

Dismantling the Separation of Church and State

The slide below shows how Florida’s DE wants it taught as FACT that the Founders didn’t want a “strict separation of church and state.” 

It seems to me that the Florida DE is trying to pass off as TRUE a right-wing “Christian” interpretation of the Founders’ intent. In reality, there is actually a lot of evidence that the Founders wanted a “strict” separation of church and state. 

The Florida DE also apparently wants to teach that the Founders believed that religion (specifically Christianity) provided the necessary moral foundation for the nation to govern itself.

Although one of the Florida DE slides mentions Rhode Island accepting “religious refugees from Massachusetts” there is NO mention in the slide that Roger Williams established religious freedom in Rhode Island for people of any faith. This freedom was written into Rhode Island’s 1663 charter. (However, it is possible that the explanation for the slide mentions that.)

Instead there is a slide that focuses on “The Maryland Toleration Act,” which allowed freedom of religion for anyone “professing to beleive [sic] in Jesus Christ.”

Teaching as FACT That it Is WRONG to Interpret the Constitution as a “Living Document”

Contrary to what the Florida DE wants to teach, there are excellent arguments to show that the Constitution is a “living document” that can be informed by common law. In addition, consider the Ninth Amendment: 

“The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.”

The existence of the Ninth Amendment suggests that the Founders understood that not every right could be written into the Constitution, and so they acknowledged that other rights exist.

It would seem that the Florida DE is on the side of the conservative originalists and textualists--who ironically often don’t abide by their own “rules” for interpretation (e.g. the District of Columbia v. Heller decision). 

Regardless, how to interpret the Constitution should be the subject of DEBATE and not dictated by the Florida DE.

Playing Down the Negative Peculiarities of American Slavery in the Nation’s Founding

The slides also try to minimize the tragedy of slavery in Colonial America. There are virtually NO slides that show how awful slavery was in our country.  And although one slide acknowledged that “2/3 of the Founders held slaves,” the slide made it seem as though the slaveholding Founders weren’t supportive of slavery.

Well, those Founders who didn’t “defend” slavery kept their slaves anyway (although Washington’s will freed his slaves after his death). But here’s a couple of quotes from one of the Founders, Charles Pinckney of South Carolina who defended slavery--and puts the lie to the above slide:

“While there remained one acre of swamp land uncleared of South Carolina, I would raise my voice against restricting the importation of Negroes. I am . . . thoroughly convinced . . . that the nature of our climate, and the flat, swampy situation of our country, obliges us to cultivate our lands with negroes, and that without them South Carolina would soon be a desert waste.”  – Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, South Carolina Ratifying convention, 1788

“They [Africans] certainly must have been created with less intellectual power than the whites, and were most probably intended to serve them, and be the instruments of their cultivation.” – Charles Pinckney, 1821

And the slide below is also misleading:

The above slide leaves out a very important fact mentioned in an article on The Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History website:

“Of the 10 to 16 million Africans who survived the voyage to the New World.... only 6 percent arrived in what is now the United States. Yet by 1860, approximately two thirds of all New World slaves lived in the American South.“ [emphasis added]

How could this be that the U.S. started with such a small percentage of slaves from the transatlantic slave trade but had the largest slave population by 1860? Well, the Florida DE hints at it in the above slide when they mention that slave numbers expanded “through birth.” 

The numbers of male and female Africans brought to Colonial America were roughly equal; whereas other parts of the Americas had more male slaves. The low birthrates and high death rates of slaves in other regions contributed to their having smaller slave populations by 1860. Also, some parts of the Caribbean, such has Haiti, had abolished slavery as early as 1793.

Another reason, according to The Gilder Lehrman Institute article is that the Spanish and Portuguese were more open to interracial “mixing” with Africans (in part because of few European women) and “recognized a wide range of racial gradations, including black, mestizo, quadroon, and octoroon.” Whereas:

“The American South, in contrast, adopted a two-category system of race in which any person with a black mother was automatically considered to be black.” [emphasis added]

Furthermore, in 1662, chattel slavery was established in colonial Virginia through a law that any child born of a Black female slave (regardless of the race of the father) would be considered a slave. So slavery became based on race and birth in the South. I don’t know if that was the explanation the Florida DE provided of the slide but somehow I don’t think those facts were highlighted.

Look through the slides for yourselves. But to me it is shocking that teaching a right-wing, white “Christian” nationalist view of American history is being ordered by the Florida government. 

It is ironic that as academic freedom is being shut down in Florida and other GQP states in favor of right-wing indoctrination, Putin has just started a big push to “indoctrinate” Russian school children with a “militarized and anti-Western version of patriotism.”

It seems to me that creeping right-wing autocracy in GQP states is making them more like autocratic Russia than like American states where academic freedom is still allowed. 

[edited]