L'il Philosophers: Ayn Rand, Age 8

L'il Philosophers: Ayn Rand, Age 8

The conditions in the Little Birds Daycare Center weigh on the spirit of the individual like a great whetstone against which the weak and unambitious masters of the world at large sharpen the ever-duller knife of their slow tyranny. This is not to say that the water from the faucets does not run warm, for it does, and it is not to suggest that the snack time animal crackers are not as sweet as they could be. No, I do not suggest anything, reader. I make my stand in words, in thought and in glorious action against the emptiness and worthlessness of this foul institution with steady conviction and no apprehension.

That I have endured so much petty nonsense every afternoon since the day so long ago when I first entered the kindergarten of Nathan Welsch Elementary is not the source of my current ire, at least not directly. I once considered it a better application of my energy to simply wait for the day when I graduated from Little Birds so as to not waste my precious though plentiful industry trying to alter the workings of an institution that is so obviously determined to fail under its own flimsy approach to its business model. But then, just yesterday, I suffered such an injustice that I could no longer accept another afternoon of this continued social malady called latchkey.

Whilst applying a particularly vibrant shade of blue to the sky of a picture I had drawn of my ideal back yard (unlike Billy Thompson who indulges his useless fantasies of a purple sky like the fanciful fop that he is), I stood aghast as Emily Trevor purloined a fresh Leaf Green from my, my Crayola 12 Pack. As any individual of confidence and worth would surely do, I accosted Emily and took back what was rightfully mine. When Mrs. Evans saw this, she lectured me and put me in time-out. Is this really what our society has embraced after millennia out of the wild? A life in which each man's domain is encroached upon by every other's with anarchy and impunity? And moreover the first voice to shout "No!" is penalized for its righteousness? Is not a kid entitled to the crayons of his craft station?

So I say to all who will listen, I will continue to lay insistent claim to all that is mine, be it crayon or juice box or picture book or butterfly sticker. No hand but my own will reach into my cubby and while I am at my seat I WILL CHEW BUBBLE GUM because it is not the natural purview of the self-appointed authorities to determine whether or not I may enjoy it on my own time. Mark my words, we all shall indeed one day share and share alike, as we shall all as individuals see no reason to share what is ours with those who have neither the initiative nor the strength of character to procure the same without the charity of others.