A governor named Roy Cooper tended his citizens in North Carolina.  He found life in the governor's mansion dull.  All he could do to amuse himself was to talk to the North Carolina Association of Educators (NCAE) or play with his veto pen.

A few years ago, as he sat watching the citizens residing in the quiet state, and, thinking what he would do should he see them enjoying freedoms like attending church or choosing schools outside the government for their children, he thought of a plan to amuse himself.

His masters in D.C. had told him to call a "State of Emergency" should he feel his control over the citizens was threatened.  So, though he had not seen an "emergency," he ran toward the press podium shouting at the top of his voice, "State of Emergency!  A virus is threatening your children.  Lock down all the schools and churches!  Put masks on your students' faces!"

As he expected, those who believed the cry closed schools — and kept them closed.  Students suffered academically and socially.  When schools opened, the citizens found the governor unapologetic at the trick he had played on them.

Once the high from his power trip subsided, the governor had even less to do than before.  So he tried his trick again.  He ran to his podium and shouted, "State of Emergency!  Evil legislators are giving parents educational options.  They are killing government schools!"  Again, panic ensued: "Giving parents options and having our schools compete for excellence is not fair!  Besides, learning loss is a false concept!" shouted the leadership of the NCAE in response.

Then, one evening, as the sun was setting over North Carolina and the shadows were creeping out over the state, an emergency really did spring from the underbrush and fall upon the citizens: the citizens had no educational options, government schools overspent and underwhelmed without any competition or accountability, and the students read pornographic books in government school libraries while discussing cisgender privilege in the name of equity!

In terror at seeing how poorly the students were doing, the governor ran, shouting, "Emergency! Emergency!"  But by then it was too late.

The real emergency — policies and political points from a progressive governor — killed a great many educational opportunities that students and their families deserved to have available to them.

When governors call emergencies for political stunts, children are hurt most. 

Parody based on "The Shepherd Boy and the Wolf" from The Aesop for Children.

Image: NC Dept. of Public Safety.