Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Thumbs Up

Thumbs up, indeed, Miss Sasha. Your daddy did good today.

"For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life.

For us, they toiled in sweatshops and settled the West; endured the lash of the whip and plowed the hard earth.

For us, they fought and died, in places like Concord and Gettysburg; Normandy and Khe Sahn.

Time and again these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life. They saw America as bigger than the sum of our individual ambitions; greater than all the differences of birth or wealth or faction.

...

As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals.

...

To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.

...

For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job, which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter's courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent's willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate.

Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends -- hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism -- these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility -- a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.

This is the price and the promise of citizenship."


I watched the Inauguration in the pub on the ground floor of our campus center. Hundreds of students sat with faculty members, administrators, and coaches. There was chatter as Vice President Biden took the Oath of Office, but when CNN quietly announced that regardless of the fact he had not yet taken his own oath, because it was past noon, Barack Obama was officially President of the United States, a roar erupted in the room. Everyone fell quiet as the Chief Justice and the Obamas were called forward, and while there was a giggle when the Chief Justice flubbed his lines, you could hear a pin drop in the room. "So help me God..." and the room exploded again with cheers and applause and laughter. Silence fell for the inaugural address, which everyone knew was partially penned by our fellow Crusader, Jon Favreau. You've never seen college kids so quiet!

The crowd in Washington was awe-inspiring as well. Seeing all of those people together, some crying, some smiling so big their faces may be frozen that way tonight, reminded me of a song my kids used to sing for Black History Month. We saw it today. Yes, We Can.

Lift every voice and sing,
'Til earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise
High as the listening skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Let us march on 'til victory is won.

God of our weary years,
God of our silent tears,
Thou who has brought us thus far on the way;
Thou who has by Thy might
Led us into the light,
Keep us forever in the path, we pray.
Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,
Lest, our hearts drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee;
Shadowed beneath Thy hand,
May we forever stand,
True to our God,
True to our native land.

Friday, January 16, 2009

Another Monday night...

A great leaf, that God and you and I/ have covered with writing/ turns now, overhead, in strange hands.


I anticipate their questions --

Why did you leave?
Why did you stay away?

Why do you want to come back?

I had to leave. I needed air. I needed to heal. I lived, breathed, ate, drank, swam in teaching. Three thousand miles from home, living in a small apartment with three other teachers, the classroom kept me sane and drove me crazy. It was an oxygen mask and a pillow over my face. I was exhausted.

I left to come home - to return to a coast and a mindset that made sense. I left to be with family and friends who knew me. I left because as much as I loved it, as much as I loved them, I felt spent and depleted. My batteries needed to be recharged.

I never meant to stay away so long. I almost came back, but I wasn't quite ready. The scars were still too pink, and the memories were a little to raw. My thoughts were of the hours, the planning, the grading, and the discipline. So I picked another road - a familiar one. I returned to the place that had filled me with the desire and the passion that fueled my teaching in the first place. It was a job that could be left in an office - with tasks that could wait until morning. I found other ways to fill my evenings. And I wrote...but not about planning, or grading, or discipline. Instead, the stories that poured onto the pages and filled notebooks were about the laughter, and the lightbulbs, and the joy. The flood of memories told the story of second grade magic.

So, I'm coming back because I want to come back. I'm coming back with a balanced understanding of the challenges and the rewards. I recognize my responsibilities to my students and to myself - we'll all be happier if I don't live, breathe, eat, and drink my job. Most importantly, I come back knowing that this is what I'm meant to do, whether in a little town that feels more like home than anyplace I've been in my adult life, or the city I never wanted to live in until I left...even on the days that end in tears.