• Pragerisms

    For a more comprehensive list of Pragerisms visit
    Dennis Prager Wisdom.

    • "The left is far more interested in gaining power than in creating wealth."
    • "Without wisdom, goodness is worthless."
    • "I prefer clarity to agreement."
    • "First tell the truth, then state your opinion."
    • "Being on the Left means never having to say you're sorry."
    • "If you don't fight evil, you fight gobal warming."
    • "There are things that are so dumb, you have to learn them."
  • Liberalism’s Seven Deadly Sins

    • Sexism
    • Intolerance
    • Xenophobia
    • Racism
    • Islamophobia
    • Bigotry
    • Homophobia

    A liberal need only accuse you of one of the above in order to end all discussion and excuse himself from further elucidation of his position.

  • Glenn’s Reading List for Die-Hard Pragerites

    • Bolton, John - Surrender is not an Option
    • Bruce, Tammy - The Thought Police; The New American Revolution; The Death of Right and Wrong
    • Charen, Mona - DoGooders:How Liberals Hurt Those They Claim to Help
    • Coulter, Ann - If Democrats Had Any Brains, They'd Be Republicans; Slander
    • Dalrymple, Theodore - In Praise of Prejudice; Our Culture, What's Left of It
    • Doyle, William - Inside the Oval Office
    • Elder, Larry - Stupid Black Men: How to Play the Race Card--and Lose
    • Frankl, Victor - Man's Search for Meaning
    • Flynn, Daniel - Intellectual Morons
    • Fund, John - Stealing Elections
    • Friedman, George - America's Secret War
    • Goldberg, Bernard - Bias; Arrogance
    • Goldberg, Jonah - Liberal Fascism
    • Herson, James - Tales from the Left Coast
    • Horowitz, David - Left Illusions; The Professors
    • Klein, Edward - The Truth about Hillary
    • Mnookin, Seth - Hard News: Twenty-one Brutal Months at The New York Times and How They Changed the American Media
    • Morris, Dick - Because He Could; Rewriting History
    • O'Beirne, Kate - Women Who Make the World Worse
    • Olson, Barbara - The Final Days: The Last, Desperate Abuses of Power by the Clinton White House
    • O'Neill, John - Unfit For Command
    • Piereson, James - Camelot and the Cultural Revolution: How the Assassination of John F. Kennedy Shattered American Liberalism
    • Prager, Dennis - Think A Second Time
    • Sharansky, Natan - The Case for Democracy
    • Stein, Ben - Can America Survive? The Rage of the Left, the Truth, and What to Do About It
    • Steyn, Mark - America Alone
    • Stephanopolous, George - All Too Human
    • Thomas, Clarence - My Grandfather's Son
    • Timmerman, Kenneth - Shadow Warriors
    • Williams, Juan - Enough: The Phony Leaders, Dead-End Movements, and Culture of Failure That Are Undermining Black America--and What We Can Do About It
    • Wright, Lawrence - The Looming Tower


Posted on March 8, 2022 by Glenn H. Ray | Edit

Posted on August 18, 2020 by Glenn H. Ray | Edit


For most of us human beings life is growth moving through  a tunnel  of   woundings.   

Not all of life’s wounds are equal.

Personally, I have been very foruntate  regarding my woundings.   Although life’s  tunnel by the Law of Nature,  keeps slicing at me every day of my existence, I have experienced only two that have made  their  way deep  into my mind and body.   A third might be visiting me shortly, but, as it is said, ‘time will tell.”

To feed my family, my imagination, and  ‘end’  my formal intellectual training, I became an  educator…..the teacher ‘kind’……..the real kind, a classroom instructor of knowledge.   Despite many shortcomings cultural and personal, I was quite good at it and  I thoroughly enjoyed what I was doing.   

After several years of teaching in a Minneapolis public high school, trouble was brewing in the community where I taught; trouble  coming from the  ‘outside’ world beyond the walls and lives of the young at the high school where I was employed.    I took battle to defend the students and their community against a powerful, often well meaning, city establishment, the Minneapolis School District, a bureaucracy causing and abetting  wars  against  this very  community.

At the time, although I was tenured,  I lost the battle, my job, and eventually  my career as a public school teacher.  I was in some ways wounded for the rest of my life.   Through time  although initially painful, the deep wound eventually healed over  leaving a scar as such wounds do.     I thought my Crusade was the right thing to do based on my cultural and educational background.

I have never doubted that thought.   I felt I  was a teacher fulfilling my civic duties despite the costs  of losing something.    Yet, although I was chronologically an adult, a father with a wife and  three children, I was still  a teenage dreamer never thinking evil could overcome good.

The  agony from my  ‘rightousness’ was temporarily soothed when both the Court and the School Board admonished the Administration to allow me to be reinstated, but without tenure, back into the school system to teach if I agreed to do so.    

I knew I would be on trial.   I knew my teaching would be attacked, for I was transferred to a  predominantly black school which was advertised as a “Magnet School”.   Despite major efforts by the school district and  by most of  the teachers, both the standard and the lefty loonies,  the environment was made a powder keg by the viscious in the black community both in and beyond  school  enrollment.

Half of the victims assaulted and threatened by these black hoodlums were black, the others white.   Assaults,  occuring almost daily included the sexual, a shooting, robberies and  beatings of whites, setting fires to clothing in lockers usually  to send ‘messages’,  and daily intimidations by these hoodlums  against white teachers.   Car tires were flattened.   Objects including spit, were aimed  at white targets when these teachers  walked from car lot to the school  each morning through the boiler room for our safety.   

The administration, of course, denied all of these truths.   The city newspapers and politicians  protected the school district.   All hoped the schools would successfully retain a civilized educational  tradition and termed any criticisms of this  ideal at any of its schools in black neighborhoods as   “WHITE RACISM”.   

Black racism was endemic throughout the  school system particularly in the ‘black’  high school to which I was transferred in the autumn of 1971.  ‘ Hate whitey’ was at fever pitch.    During the days before the opening of the school term for students,  I got a phone call from a fellow teacher at the school.    She was a white gal who  taught English.  

I had never met her  in my life.    She didn’t mention her name,   but  in the foulest language a female anywhere could produce, the crux of the message she passed on to me was ….”You f…ing, *****,  racist pig.   We’ll have you out of here by Christmas.”  

She was so proud of her Crusade that  she had informed some of her English class students of her noble deed calling me especially of the vocabulary she chose to use.   She and some other white  teachers were more enraged black racists, than any blacks.     After all, some blacks were simply hoodlums who from no racial prejudice at all, picked on any victim closest by.

This English teacher sexually, was a married gal, so we should remember these were also the days of feminist insanity which  competed with  her racism in the flow of her  vocabulary and swearing choices.

I lasted longer than Christmas.   It was February 9th, 1972, as I remember, when I received notice in the middle of my last  class of the day.     The note read something like:   “Please collect all of your belongings by the end of this day.   Henceforth, you will report  to Room  xxx  at the  School District office for further assignment.”

One of the students in that class was Joey Lykken about 14 years old.   He was the youngest  among twenty others, almost all  seniors about to graduate.    A quiet, polite, articulate, confident kid who asked all the right questions a student would ask when seeking  to expand ones knowledge, including mine.     There were other choice students in other classes I taught at the school.    “Choice” student in my thinking, was any student who sought to improve his or her understandings of the mysteries of life around them.   

Joey, however,  was exceptional.   I knew nothing about him except for his youngness and behavior as a student of mine.  I might have teased him about his Norwegian name.   I did know of a ‘Lykken’ who was a teacher at a nearby public high school.   I don’t think I mentioned it to Joey.

I also knew the Lykken name from the Minneapolis newspapers.    This family’s home had been raided  by the Minneapolis police about December of the previous year.   They were seeking evidence  that these “Lykkens” were subversives  plotting something or another not particularly  good for the Minneapolis community.    I had read the article, but  did not  associate the name with Joey.    Or,  it is possible that the name was not mentioned in the article which I had  read, but learned later the Lykkens of the newspaper were  Joey’s parents.

I had taught Russian at  previous schools  and on three occasions my own world had been  ‘visited upon’  by FBI agents checking out the degree of  loyalty to my country.   I admit I enjoyed the attention  and the pleasure I imagined  when  the investigators would discover I was a model citizen…..which was reaffirmed each time both to me and the agency.

During the evening of the day of  my exile from teaching I got a phone call from a Harriet Lykken.   She introduced herself as Joey’s mother.   She said some wonderful words about my teaching and how much her son had enjoyed my class.     He was profoundly upset, she said.

In the afternoon of the day I received the firing notice,  I was in the midst  of teaching  a  class, Joey’s class.    When handed to me, I read the firing notice directly to the students of  that last class before my exile.   The  school principal’s secretary who personally had handed me the notice in front of the class, shouted at me  that I had  “no right”  to read the notice to the students.   I read it.      Afterwards as I was cleaning out my desk, Joey approached  and asked  if I had been fired.   “Yes” I replied.

And then he asked…..”Does that mean you won’t be back?”    After I answered,  he teared up and left the room.    That was one of the most painful moments of my life….the ones you can never forget until the final moments  of release.

Harriet asked if she could be direct with some questions.  Joey was terribly upset.    She wanted to know if there was anything behind the scenes  I had done which instigated the firing.      “Absolutely nothing.   I have become an irritation to them, that is all.”   We talked a bit and then she asked….”Would you mind if I did a little investigating into this business on my own.”

I was thrilled!   “Please do!  Search anywhere!  Ask anyone anything!  I have nothing to hide!”    

“Is this person for real?” I asked myself.

About three weeks later she called back  and asked if I could come over for  dinner to meet her family.    I did so about a week later.     I met Harriet and her husband, David, and a son Jessie…..and I was introduced to Joey as a human being rather than a just another  public school teacher.

Looking over my life, and my distance from them, they were the finest people I had and have ever met.   They, like I, were liberals and NOT Liberals.   They displayed all of my prejudices and values in practice and not just preachments.  

I have always loved ‘people’ from the time I began to understand the human struggle.   I think we are all heroic enduring our daily pain  yet driven  to know the unknown all the time knowing our future of  ‘dusty death’….’signifying nothing’.    These four, from all that I was to learn about them,  were  personifications of my American dream family.  

Harriet and David asked  all kinds of questions, many of them based on interviews Harriet had conducted with many who had worked with me, including some administrators.   Outside of occasionally irritating people, (a talent I knew I had all of my older-than-teenage life and a weapon I often use in my style of teaching) my disorders were minor league. 

 Harriet summed up her investigation telling  me that she was shocked at the school adminstration’s actions.

I had no legal recourse.   The school board had voted 4-3 to fire me…..and had to do so to show their support for their Superintendent of Schools, John Davis and his assistant superintendents.    (Outside of my personal case, I then, and in retrospect, have  considered  Superintendent Davis an outstanding person to occupy that office.   He was caught in the same tsunami of  racial politics as was I, a teacher.  I was  critical as a teacher of the anti-white racism  associated with his administration>    That brand of racism was  a common  tyranny of that  day. 

I had but one trump card left…..only a deuce perhaps…..but still a trump card  over the administration actions against me.    I asked Harriet if she could represent me at the administrative hearing which I,  by state law, was entitled to.   

She happily agreed to do so.

Immediately the  District School Administration fought the idea.   I could have an attorney to represent me.   The District’s legal team  had expected me to bring along the Federation of Teachers Union attorney, for I was a member of the teachers’ union.   They opposed allowing Harriet, a leading citizen in the Minneapolis school community to speak.

This union was, in the early 1970s  toothless in defending  education and its needs.   It had heroically battled an illegal teachers’ strike against the school district  two years earlier, was exhausted,  and was practicing  obedience and kindness to the School Administration.   I think it was also financially  broke.    Its leaders, both local and state, were outstanding guys and citizens  who did what they could to push a cause and heal a pain.   

The union had never shown much  interest  in anything beyond basic and usually inane labor issues.   It was an old time union, an  extension of Minnesota’s   Democratic-FarmLabor Party in which I was sometimes active.    On the issue of whom I asked for representing  me at the administrative hearing,   the union was tenacious.    It  was willing to  pay for an attorney of my choice, offer the union’s attorney, or challenge the school administration if it denied me my choice, Harriet Lykken.

Who would have ever known that my hero in life turned out to be a woman!    Not I.   The School Administration was forced to back down and allow Harriet to represent this ousted  teacher.   

Note: Thank you, Dear Person, who sent the above article from yesteryear! I missed teaching school students thereafter….but always loved to share knowledge those old gals made to learn and share when I was in their schools, K-12….that is, when schools for me were between 1939 and 1952 in modest but MOTHERED, Godfearing, Civilized AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL!

Will your America ever recover from what your children have had to endure in public schools these days? YES, IF YOUR CHILDREN HAVE….OR WILL. OR ARE YOU TOO BUSY?

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