Saturday, May 30, 2015

Killing in the name of


The screenshot above is a conversation I had recently on Twitter. It began with an article posted by NPR reporter Renee Montagne discussing whether or not women are suitable for combat roles. As I considered the role of women in combat, it occurred to me that no one is suitable for combat roles. This is why we struggle with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, veteran homelessness, veteran addiction, veteran suicide, veteran divorce and, I would not be surprised to find out, other ailments with which I am unfamiliar.

Killing and combat have become unnatural. We have evolved beyond their necessity.

Why do we continue to do this? Why does the (I assume) man responding with the @EVEbestofus account hold so dearly to his hope that combat will always be necessary? Why does he label my wish for peace "incredibly naive?" Why do we cling so tight to a race, a nationality, a religion, a dogma that we are willing to kill in its defense, or in its offense? What is it that makes us need to be "better" in some way?

Obviously, the answer is complicated. I do, however, see one common thread that I think plays a large role: greed. Our greed for so many things drives our desires. Our attachments keep us from settling, keep us from knowing what is "enough." Greed takes many forms and has many foci: money, power, influence, sex, and perhaps innumerable others. All of these things create a false duality of competition against one another. There are those things of which we want more, and there are those people who are in our way. Sometimes, it's ourselves.

I can't pretend to know what motivates the man behind @EVEbestofus. I only know what he's told me. He has told me that he believes we will always have to fight. I fear he may be right. Evil is aggressive. Evil is always willing to force its way where peace will not. That certainly seems to be an advantage for evil things.

But, as always, who's to say what is evil? I wonder if @EVEbestofus is willing to discuss the possibility that America has committed evil, and thus created its own evil nemeses? Haven't all societies?

I paraphrased an arguably great American statesman to @EVEbestofus, hoping to draw common, American ground. Robert Kennedy (the greatest Kennedy in my mind, for all his faults) said, "There are those that look at things the way they are, and ask 'Why?' I dream of things that never were, and ask 'Why not?'" @EVEbestofus wished me luck in my dreamland, while he and the other warriors "handle things."

I wonder, what if peace were achieved? Would @EVEbestofus and the other warriors let it be? How would they handle a world that didn't need them? That had evolved beyond them? What greed would drive them? What role could they play in a peaceful society?

For my foible, I am naturally greedy for affirmation. It is an outcome of this life I've lived. I am actively wrestling to manage that greed (which makes this blog somewhat of an oxymoron for me). I sometimes think that I'd like to replace it with a greed for peace and human harmony. But I realize that it is a greedy mind that creates war and disharmony. Given the chance, what evils would my greed commit for the sake of my goal? If I could achieve peace and harmony with a dozen or so well-placed assassinations, wouldn't I do it? And wouldn't it be worth it? Peace, at what cost? There is so much truth when J.R.R. Tolkien gives the wizard Gandalf the foresight to turn down the One Ring, knowing that anything evil at its core cannot beget good. Thus is it ever with greed.

Evil must be pulled out at the root. Evil by whose definition? And how does one peacefully purge it?

I must work to recognize my own greed, and to master it. I hope others will do the same. The road to peace is perhaps only paved one mind at a time.


Wednesday, May 13, 2015

A (mostly) final reflection on what I've learned during Graduate School.

*Excerpted from the final personal reflection required of my MSE/Licensure program

I learned to read at 4 years old, skipped the 2nd grade, tested into the gifted program, and was the apple of my schizophrenic mother’s eye. As my home life worsened, my grades dropped until I was failing almost all of my classes by the 6th grade. I was then dropped from the gifted program, which set my confidence spinning and took me years to get over (if I have at all). I went from being “very smart” to being “very stupid.”  

I knew I wanted to change my trajectory in high school, and worked very hard to do so. Lacking sufficient home support, though, I was only able to manage a 2.5 GPA, which was much less than I might have had. I failed out of college on the first try, again the victim of a lack of study skills and confidence. Over the years, I have fought back, having to be admitted on probation for every degree I’ve pursued (BA in History, most of an MPA before deciding to become a teacher, and now my MSE). I know what it’s like to feel stupid, and I’m determined that I will not allow a student’s classroom performance to affect my love for them. 

Last year, I had a difficult time talking to my students in ways that they could understand. This year I have become much more adept at working where they are. An old version of me laments this “dumbing down” of what I have worked so hard to achieve, but an even deeper version of me is driving me onward, never losing touch with how important it is to show respect to the disrespected, and hope to the hopeless. Unfortunately, I do not believe that those terms are hyperbolic when they describe the experiences of many of my students’ educational journeys.

I’m not much for “callings,” or any other religious-style description of how our lives play out. I think, however, that I am beginning to understand what people are feeling when they say those things. I have never been challenged as I have been these two years; and I’ve never wanted so much to be good. Working to wear this “hat” has improved the fit of my other hats: parent; husband; community member. What I have the potential to be is well-suited to the name “educator.”

I do not believe the journey ever ends. I do not believe that learning ever ends. I am not interested in taking up a position on the way. I am not interested in being “finished.” My experience has shown me that, at 38, I laugh at my 35-year-old self. In turn, that self laughs at my many other selves as I look backward down the road. The backward gaze only lasts long enough, however, to be reminded that the way is forward, and there is always much to learn.