Gary K. Clabaugh, Professor Emeritus, La Salle University
In olden times, when hope still mattered, a frog named Horace treasured tadpoles. When they thrived, Horace was very, very happy. When they failed to thrive, Horace was very, very sad.
Horace lived in the Kingdom of the Frogs where Bullfrogs reigned supreme. These puffed up monsters took up the best end of the pond, ate a great deal more than they needed, croaked so loudly no one else could be heard, and conducted their most important business hidden deep in the bottom muck.
Tadpoles need nurturing and ordinary frogs used community nurturaries to provide that. In fact, they paid taxes to the Bullfrogs for nurturary upkeep. The Bullfrogs, on the other hand, cared less about community nurturaries because they enrolled their tadpoles in very expensive, private nurturaries. Here they were exempted from the omnipresent tests, measurements and curricular requirements imposed by the Bullfrogs on lesser tadpoles.
One day a curious thing happened. The Bullfrogs began harrumphing very loudly that state run nurturaries were just plain awful. A King-appointed panel of particularly powerful Bullfrogs even proclaimed, “If another kingdom were responsible for the awful condition of our pond nurturaries it would be a cause for war.” (Bullfrogs frequently found causes for wars — though they or their young rarely fought in them.) The panel ignored the fact that it was Bullfrogs who ultimately determined the condition of community nurturaries.
Sub-adequate nurturary conditions closely reflected sub-adequate frog living conditions in the ever-growing stagnant end of the pond. And because they controlled the water flow the Bullfrogs determined how much of the pond was stagnant.
Anyway, as Horace came of age he thought, and thought (in the way that only frogs can think), about what to do with his life. “I know!” he eventually exclaimed, “I’ll nurture tadpoles.”
Certification was necessary to become a tadpole nurturer. But that process was kept undemanding because of the ongoing need for inexpensive, compliant nurturers. Besides, at Amphibian University, which of course had a Bullfrog controlled board of trustees, the tadpole-nurturing program was little more than a source of tuition income.
When it turned out that the undemanding certification standards were still too demanding for the casually committed, the Bullfrogs set up alternative routes to certification. “Nurture for the Kingdom,” was one example. When it was created a Bullfrog official solemnly croaked, “Alternative certification opens tadpole nurturing careers to bright young frogs who otherwise would choose another vocation.”
Horace wondered (as best a frog can wonder), “Since tadpoles are so very important for our frog future, why do the Bullfrogs make it ever easier to become a tadpole nurturer?” Meanwhile the Bullfrogs continued to stoke dissatisfaction with community nurturaries. They began croaking that these nurturaries would be much better if for-profit Bullfrog firms were to take over their management at public expense. (Bullfrogs are very enthusiastic about profit making — especially when it’s at public expense.)
Anyway, Horace easily achieved certification at Amphibian U. and signed up for a job as a community tadpole nurturer in a nurturary in the most stagnant part of the pond.
He was delighted to begin nurturing young tadpoles. But he soon discovered that while he and his fellow tadpole nurturers were held accountable, they were permitted no say regarding how the nurturary was run or what nurturing materials they were to use. Worse still, nourishment and oxygen were in scant supply and those scarcities made the tadpoles much harder to nurture. Sometimes, in their desperation, the tadpoles even turned on one another or on a frog nurturer.
Some blamed Bullfrog rules and inadequate funding for this nurturary’s plight. Others blamed it on the frog administrator’s who had sold out in order to suck up to the Bullfrogs. Still others thought local community nurturary board member’s lack of knowledge was at fault. (Board members weren’t required to know anything at all about tadpoles or nurturing.)
As a matter of fact, ignorance of tadpoles and nurturing was common at all levels of community tadpole nurturary management. Even the Bullfrog who was Secretary of Tadpole Nurturance possessed none of this knowledge whatsoever. But he was well connected in the pond and very skilled at croaky solemnity. Ignoring the many environmental factors limiting tadpole growth, for instance, he pompously advised tadpole nurturers that if they just had “higher expectations” their tadpoles would thrive.
About this time the Frog King emerged from the muck on the bottom of the pond, swam to the surface, stuck his thick Bullfrog head out of the water, and croaked out a royal decree. “Henceforth,” he thrummed, “every tadpole succeeds!” And with that, the King dove back down into the muck. (Little additional money for tadpole nurturance accompanied the King’s declaration).
The Bullfrogs declared that all community tadpole nurturaries must regularly measure and report tadpole growth. The results were proclaimed throughout the land and community tadpole nurturers were held publicly accountable.” (There was not even a mention of measuring tadpole growth in the private tadpole nurturaries that served the Bullfrog’s offspring.)
The Bullfrogs assured frogs with tadpoles that they had the right to transfer them to other community nurturaries if theirs got low scores. In reality, such transfers were very difficult. But that didn’t stop the Bullfrogs from boasting about the policy.
Horace and his fellow nurturers wondered how they could be held fully responsible since the tadpoles were under their care only six and a half hours a day, five days a week, 180 days of the year. The rest of the time (and that was a great deal of time indeed), tadpoles were “cared for” at home by their frog mothers and fathers — if the later could even be found.
In fact, by the time frog parents brought their tadpoles to the nurturary their all-important early growth period was over and the damage inflicted at home was more or less permanent. For this reason Horace often got tadpoles with needs that were far beyond his simple skills. He struggled bravely (or at least as bravely as a frog can struggle), but try as he might he just couldn’t get the stunted tadpoles to meet the Bullfrog’s puffed up standards.
He even tried expecting more, as the Bullfrogs advised, but that that just made things worse. “I guess I’m not very good at expecting,” Horace said to himself.
About this time a Bullfrog-owned corporation took over the community nurturary where Horace worked. The bottom line was no longer tadpole nurturing but profit making. Changes were introduced but tadpole growth did not improve. In fact, fewer tadpoles blossomed than before. But at least the Bullfrogs were more content.
With the coming of summer, nurturing ended. And there was a sad new weariness in Horace’s bulgy eyes. He still loved tadpoles. Only now he kept dwelling on their frequent failure to thrive.
Horace spent the summer thinking about his future. Should he keep nurturing or not? In the end his love of tadpoles won out. Hoping things would improve he returned to his job in the community nurturary.
Actually things were worse. Over the summer the nurturary had been taken over by a for-profit corporation and love of tadpoles was entirely absent. Improving tadpole measurements in order to make a profit was all that mattered. And because the Bullfrog set standards were impossibly difficult for damaged tadpoles, some nurturers started cheating.
Horace would have none of that. He played by the rules and continued to do his best. “Worthwhile things are seldom easy,” he would say to himself. But reality slowly smothered what was left of his hope. Finally, after a particularly discouraging day (and frogs aren’t easily discouraged), Horace just hopped sadly away, never to be seen again.
Some say he hopped to another pond where there were no Bullfrogs. Others say Bullfrogs dominate every pond in the world and that Horace died of a broken heart. In any case, he is gone — forever.