Knowing I’ll probably go to a local racetrack on Friday, I sit here wondering about the choices we make when we shouldn’t be given choices.

Wandering into the territory of parenthood.

Thinking about the difference between TV/video and newspapers/Internet text.

Readin’, writin’ and ‘rithmetic.

As a parent, would I insist my child learn to read/write as much as if not more than develop athletic skills?

Symbology symbolises idolatrous habits.

No natural law states we must distinguish one set of scripts from another.

We can tell a sick plant/animal from a healthy one, identify substances with natural (although weak in comparison to concentrated artificial) healing properties, cook meat/vegetables/seasoning to eliminate/reduce foodborne illness (converted to a whole industry of infinite appeals to one’s palate) and participate in activities that facilitate barter exchange – without reading or writing.

Oral teaching. Oral history.

Memes, black swans, mortgage derivatives, deepwater well valves, cruise missiles, political constitutions and nuclear power plants are symbols of writing and reading.

So are holy texts.

What would I expect my child to accomplish with reading/writing skills?

On the racetrack, one finds green/yellow/red lights, a few dials and switches, a radio headset and the determination to have a faster/smarter trip toward Victory Lane than the other drivers in a race (and/or a good show for one’s sponsors).

In the hospital, lots of medical charts get updated with doctors’ notes, prescriptions, allergy notices, X-rays, CT scans and vital sign readings.

I imagine an infographic poster demonstrating the value of one’s developed skills/talents as a racecar driver/crew/chief/owner vs. a hospital doctor/staff/administrator/owner.

Pyramids, pies and dotted lines.

What would my child enjoy learning, regardless of hieroglyphic interpretation skills?

Heuristics? Vagabond? Farming? Desk jockey? Car racing? Ruling the known universe?

Up to age six, my child would be subject to my rule as reading/writing teacher.

After that age, peers and professional educators would assist in my child’s search for a viable means of self-support (assuming no dependent medical condition).

If my child didn’t learn to read by the end of the third year of primary school, would I start directing my child toward a career path that requires no formal reading/writing skills?

And if my child couldn’t finish, then what?

Questions from a childless one, envious of every parent’s dream for progeny, no matter whether it’s simply to get a child out of the house or rocketing to Mars.