Johnny eats the education

Once upon a time, in a fiction wonderland a lot like Federal Way, people substituted the word “education” for foods they didn’t like to eat.

No one is sure how the slang started. People of all ages accepted it.

For little Johnny, his word replaced by education was spinach. One evening, little Johnny sat moping at the kitchen table. He picked at his steak, baked potato and education.

“What did you do at school today?” mom asked.

“Nothing,” Johnny said.

“You had to do something all day,” she said. “Did you sit in a room for eight hours and do nothing?”

“My advanced classes are too hard. I don’t belong in there,” Johnny said. “If it weren’t for the cool science experiments, I’d drop out of advanced classes.”

“The school district enacted a policy that allows more students to experience a more challenging curriculum, just like in Federal Way,” mom said. “It’s not going to kill you. Besides, you’re passing everything, even if it’s all B’s and C’s. And you love science.”

“Yes! All those animal dissections are fascinating. Plus I love botany. I never would have learned I like this stuff otherwise,” said little Johnny. “Once again, I should listen to you, even if it’s annoying when you hold me accountable.”

She motioned toward Johnny’s education. “You can’t get down from the table until you eat that steak and education.”

“How much do I have to eat?”

“All of it, or no dessert.”

“No!”

“Want me to put more education on your plate? Now stop whining and eat.”

She turns her back to the sink, scrubbing all the dinner’s dishes except Johnny’s. The ketchup is still on the table, but that’s gross on education. Johnny has no choice. Johnny must eat the education.

A-ha! The serving dish for the education — Johnny spooned a few heaps back into the bowl. That cleared about one-fourth of the education, that menacing pile of education. Mom never cares if Johnny leaves a pile of pizza crusts behind, or orders a corn dog and discards all the deep-fried corn meal, or throws away a half-eaten order of fries. But she insists Johnny eat education.

“Education is good for you,” she said. “Education makes you grow up big and strong. Someday, you’ll thank me for making you eat your education, especially when you’re healthier and better off than the ones who didn’t eat their education.”

“No. I just want dessert.”

“Listen, young man. If you ever want to eat dessert again in this lifetime, then you better eat the education. This is your last warning.”

“No.”

“Fine. No dessert.” She grabs his plate, but he yanks it back.

Johnny eats the education.

Then he eats dessert.