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.

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. 

Living into a new identity

I was just interrupted in my pursuit of homework, hoop-jumping, and lesson-planning by the loud whooping of young children in my front yard. I looked out and saw two young boys and a girl, all around 7ish years old, staring intently under the culvert next to my house, one with a hammer in hand...

These ducks live in that culvert, and likely have a nest nearby. Being fond of them, the hammer made me a little uneasy so I threw on a sweatshirt and walked outside. As I stepped outside, hammer-boy launched his missile toward "my" mallard. My body got a shot of adrenaline and my heart went up to my throat. Somewhere inside of me, Hulk raged to get out and tear those kids a new one, verbally or otherwise.

But I'm working to be a better me all the time. "Hulk" is a long ways in my past, but "asshole" is a little closer to the surface. But I credit my experience and knowledge teaching with what happened next.

"HEY." This was my manliest, firmest teacher voice. They all stopped dead in their tracks and stood at attention. They remained still as I covered the 100 feet between them and me, seriously but not threateningly keeping my eyes on them. I stopped about 10 feet short of them.

"Hey guys, those ducks live around here and they've got a nest that's going to have babies soon. If you kill those ducks with that hammer, those babies won't have any parents to take care of them." This was my quiet, focused, "you just fucked up bad, but I still love you" teacher voice.

Their expressions changed from Lord of the Flies to cute-and-cuddly, we-love-baby-animals.

"You guys don't want that do you?" "No!"

Now I'm smiling. Where do you guys live? What are you doing with that dead rabbit carcass (mmm hmmm)? Do you know what kinds of animals might want to eat that? Etc.

They waved goodbye and ran off to their house, heads, pride, and tears intact. They're just kids. They just needed a helping hand in the right direction. Yeah, I'm tootin' my own horn. I'm proud of myself. Because I. Was. Pissed. :)

Now, I'm sitting here wondering if a dad will come shoot me. Thanks, Brownback.

Homework. Hoops. Lesson plans. 21 days until I'm a Master of Education. On paper anyway.

Middle School

Butterfinger candy bars taste like middle school to me. Specifically, they taste like middle school spring: that time when you can feel that it's getting warmer and the smell of green is in the air. Butterfingers are also a way that I find teaching middle school makes me subtly work through issues or memories that are 25 or more years old. Finding myself in a middle school setting these last 18 months, I have been surprised to find how often I have to put the brakes on a middle school mindset. I've written about that at length in another post.

Candy bars, however, conjure a memory and a mindset I don't mind. Not one bit.

Hacking away at thoughts

I'm 36. This fall I feel a little bit like the grown up. I've had kids for 13 years. Sorry kids.

At the same time, my greatest success as a teacher and parent has come from letting go of "being the grown up."

These ideas that ancient traditions discuss, there's reality there.

Pride born out of brokenness is one of the major problems in our world.

The only way to win a war is to kill all of your enemies. All of them. This is the biggest reason they shouldn't be fought.

In Star Trek, do people on earth all get along as a result of having formed an planetary identity as humans?

Holidays are hard for me. I'm starting to learn this. I don't understand how people are supposed to enjoy each other. This is a mountain I need to climb.

There are 14,000 ft peaks to conquer in the minds of our children. Depths to dive into in their hearts. Many, many children are lacking good love in their lives.

Life is sweet, in spite of the misery.

I do not understand affiliations. I do not understand allegiances to faith, race, culture, ethnicity, etc., etc...

I often hope that I'll know when it's my time to die. I hope that I'll be old. I hope that I'll have the opportunity to just walk into Yosemite and die in the arms of the earth. I hope my children will understand.

I should be doing homework and grading right now. I'm drinking a beer instead.

I've learned about 300 new names in the last 4 months. That's not an exaggeration.

I really do want to record an album.