Frank McCormick

My scary classroom social experiment demonstrating how tyrannies arise from democracies:

I gave a bunch of extra credit tickets to the first few students to arrive in class, then everyone else received 1-2 tickets.

The kids that came into class last were outraged by the “injustice” of those that came first getting a greater reward.

There were no rules or directions for this day in class. I just told them I’d act as an enforcer of whatever they decided to do in the 47 minutes.

The girl circled in red- Emily- was a genius.

She used her charisma and charm to court the majority of her peers that had less coupons, and played off their resentment of the minority that had earned more tickets for arriving to class early.

In the allotted time she convinced her peers that if they voted to give her absolute power, she would confiscate the 40+ coupons held by the minority and distribute them equally.

The minority of students were frustrated, but powerless against the majority vote.

Emily was elected to a “supreme ruler” position, and as promised she confiscated all of the tickets from the minority of students that arrived to class first.

That’s when things got interesting.

She kept the vast majority of tickets for herself, and distributed a few to some of her friends.

It was a microcosm of what has happened historically time and time again, and the danger our republic faces.

I asked the students to write a reflection on how they now viewed unrestrained majority-rules democracy, and their opinions has definitely changed from the day prior.

“They’re not illegal aliens, they’re undocumented immigrants”

Sure, and Bill Cosby is an undocumented ejaculator

Aside from breaking into your house, Raul didn’t break any laws once he was inside. In fact, after taking up residence in your basement, he was a dignified squatter— always picking up his cigarette butts and empty beer cans.

And since bringing his welfare momma into your house, they now have six children (if you’re wondering where your food has been going)— do you really want to kick a family out onto the streets?

It is our hope that the Dignity Act will give Raul and his family permanent legal residence and partial ownership of your house.

And if you don’t like it, we’ll be sure to let your boss know you have a problem sharing your home with Mexicans!

Trump is right. It’s hard to deport someone who has worked hard for 15 years and broken no laws beyond entering the country illegally.

I spent over a decade teaching in a community with many illegal immigrants and their children. I knew genuinely good people, wonderful families, and incredible kids. They weren't abstractions to me. They were people I cared about and wanted to see succeed.

I understand the emotional difficulty of enforcing immigration law. I've experienced it firsthand.

But there's a fundamental difference between judging an individual through the lens of personal experience and governing a nation through the rule of law.

It's easy to make exceptions when we're confronted with a sympathetic story. We see a hardworking father, a devoted mother, or an innocent child, and naturally want to spare them hardship.

But my personal feelings about those individuals cannot determine whether the law applies to them. Nor can anyone else's.

And with immigration, the consequences extend far beyond any individual case. We're deciding who may enter our country, remain here, and become part of our national community. If those decisions are ultimately determined by who manages to get here and whose story moves us most, the consent of the governed becomes increasingly meaningless.

The hardest cases are precisely when our principles matter most, because the entire purpose of having laws is to establish rules that transcend our individual sympathies, prejudices, and emotions.

If enforcing the law depends on our sympathy for those who break it, we no longer have the rule of law. We have a collection of suggestions subject to the whims of our emotions.

Oh God. What does he know? We’re all going to the Gulags, aren’t we?