I'm a high school teacher. My school has an alternative graduation path of sorts for EC students (special education) who qualify and whose parents agree that it's a good idea. It includes getting "work hours" while at school. That might include something like being a department assistant who does things like making copies and running errands, doing laminating jobs for the mc coordinator, or shadowing and helping a custodian as they change a fluorescent light bulb.
That all seems pretty cool. The part that's concerning to me is when I see them cleaning the school. I see some of them sweeping, mopping, and cleaning windows everyday.
Is it just my unintentional elitism showing that I think it's different to have a student making copies than it is to have then sweeping the floor? Working with a custodian on maintenance projects makes sense to me as job training, but just having them cleaning the school feels like it crosses into exploitation of a vulnerable population.
If all students had school maintenance duties at some point, that would be different. I feel like it creates a problematic power dynamic to have a few students clean up after the others while they're all in classes.
"taken" style action movie where a man searches for his wife. as he fights baddies in gunfights and hand-to-hand combat, it's slowly revealed that:
his wife hasn't been kidnapped
their marriage is not healthy or functional
this guy isn't rescuing his wife, he's hunting her down
his wife is a crime boss, those are her henchpeople he's fighting in a john-wick bloodbath
the tension builds until, drenched in blood, our protagonist steps forward for the final showdown. he pulls a manila envelope from his bullet-torn jacket and throws it at his wife's feet. he's just spent an entire trilogy biting & killing & maiming....all so he can deliver his shit wife her divorce papers
Gazal was wounded on November 10th, when, as her family fled Gaza City’s Al-Shifa hospital, shrapnel pierced her left calf. To stop the bleeding, a doctor, who had no access to antiseptic or anesthesia, heated the blade of a kitchen knife and cauterized the wound. Within days, the gash ran with pus and began to smell. By mid-December, when Gazal’s family arrived at Nasser Medical Center—then Gaza’s largest functioning health-care facility—gangrene had set in, necessitating amputation at the hip.
On December 17th, a projectile hit the children’s ward of Nasser. Gazal and her mother watched it enter their room, decapitating Gazal’s twelve-year-old roommate and causing the ceiling to collapse.
UNICEF estimates that a thousand children in Gaza have become amputees since the conflict began in October. “This is the biggest cohort of pediatric amputees in history,” Ghassan Abu-Sittah, a London-based plastic-and-reconstructive surgeon who specializes in pediatric trauma, told me recently.