I was reading a book a few days ago in which the main characters are geocaching, and they get into a discussion about the difference between magnetic north versus true north. It's something I don't think I've thought about in quite some time, since high school maybe, and I never did the kind of hiking or sailing where I left all trails behind and would need to do true navigation. Magnetic north is always relative to where you are at the time, and it can change, it can trick you a little bit. But true north is constant; true north might be your best way of getting where you're going.
Lying in bed last night, lights out, listening to music as I fell asleep, I heard a song called "True North" and it brought back the things I'd been thinking after reading about the navigation. The song had nothing to do with navigating the earth, and everything to do with navigating relationships. For me, personally, it's much easier to navigate a path on the ground than through messy human interactions. No compass is going to help me work through anything that complex, that constantly changing.
And so I started thinking about it, magnetic north moves. It moves a lot. As much as 1200 miles away from the North Pole at some times, as little as 200 miles at other times. Those who navigate by compass have to understand declination - to constantly know the degree of difference between true north and magnetic north. Understanding declination for a sailor is the difference between getting home to those he loves, and drifting endlessly. I mean, maybe that sailor would go on and have amazing adventures and discover new places and find new species of animals. But he wouldn't make it home. I wonder if Columbus had some trouble with finding true north.
When my girls were younger, as they moved into adolescence, I gave each of them a necklace with a compass on a chain and a quote on the back from Thoreau about going "confidently in the direction of your dreams." I told them I wanted them to always know the direction they were going, and to keep that in mind when they made choices. A few years later, after they'd asked me where MY compass was, I had one tattooed on my arm...as Katie pointed out, maybe not the best demonstration of good choices, but since I'm an adult, and an adult who loses a lot of jewelry, it seemed the best way for me to remind myself.
So, all of that was on my mind when I was falling asleep last night, and still thinking about magnetic north and how it can change. Magnets are cool - I used to do the neat trick as a kid where you rub a needle on a magnet, and then float it in water to make a compass of sorts. But it wasn't fool-proof either. I'd have been in trouble trooping through the woods with a cup of water and a needle that was iffy on its direction. But...then, I've also learned in the last few years that strong and rigid isn't always the best way to go. Sometimes it's those who are flexible and able to change who are more likely to win an altercation. Magnetic north can change, as direction changes. True north is rigid, fixed. You can always find your way to true north, but maybe sometimes that's no longer the destination you need.
Maybe we need both? True north stays where it is; it's our ultimate guide, our ultimate goal, but magnetic north can take us some pretty cool places as well, as we follow our compass step by step. I'm pretty bad at making graceful metaphors, but where I was going with that was more to do with having one goal, one reason behind everything we do. But that doesn't stop us from having other goals along the way, other dreams, other directions we have to travel. My kids are my ultimate true north, but I'm finding more and more, as they get older, that there are side treks that pull me away. Magnetic north might be pulling me away from true north, but it doesn't change that it's there all the time, always pulling me back as well.
It's easy to get side-tracked. We all have things we want out of life, out of ourselves in life, expectations. Most of them never seem to get realized. My friends are always telling me, "someday" while they stay on their fixed course for true north, never deviating, no declination. But maybe that's the point of a compass - it takes into account where we are at all times, before it tries to tell us where to go.
You don't need a compass to navigate - ancient mariners used the stars, the patterns of waves on the ocean, the currents and the winds. And we keep finding new ways of navigating over land and sea. GPS is the modern equivalent, and it takes navigation away from the earth, away from magnetic north, away following maps, and uses satellites to pinpoint where we are and where we're going, though, honestly, Siri and her GPS pal do NOT understand the variables of Houston traffic and twice have sent me to streets that dead end and pick back up a block later, leaving me to use logic to find my way. Maybe the ancient mariners were smarter than we realized. Me, I'd way rather find my way looking up at the stars, than down at a box in my hand. You miss too much that way.
To know where my compass should point, all I need to know is what my destination should look like, but to make the navigation worthwhile, I need to enjoy the journey. It's where my goals come in. Where my dreams make sense - without a dream to guide the best explorer, they'd have just stayed home. It's certainly easier.
I hope all of my friends find those two things - their true north, their reason for working and traveling. And I hope they follow their magnetic compasses, or even better, their stars, along the way, and find time to fill in some goals along the journey. And I hope sometimes everyone puts down their compass all together and trusts themselves to have an adventure, and still get back to true north when the adventure is done. Take midnight swims in the ocean. Drive your car down dirt roads that are unmarked. Dance with strangers in the desert. Or, maybe that's just me...I mean, I'm the one who put a compass on my body to remind myself to make sound decisions. In any case, know where you're going, but be ready to take a different path when presented. Meanwhile, I can't wait to find out what's going to put my brain on overdrive when I should be sleeping tonight.
Monday, June 19, 2017
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
Who Rules the World?
So, it's International Women's Day. I swear, until this year, I never even knew that it was a thing. But this year, this year it's a thing...a very big thing. A really great thing. An awesome thing. Sorry...I couldn't help myself. I hope, in the grandest way, that that particular joke won't even make sense a year or two from now. But for now, it's only kinda funny, because the joke seems to be on all of us, all the time, these last couple of months.
So, Women's Day, yeah, I can get behind that. And I am quietly supportive of those who felt the desire to participate in the day without women and didn't go to work today or didn't do housework, or cook, etc. I might go ahead and participate in that no housework thing, just to show my solidarity, you understand. See, I work in education, and I also believe that anyone in a service industry needs to suck it up and go to work and figure out another way to get their point across, because as important as this all is, so too must life go on and be safe and productive.
A little over a month ago, I marched at the Texas state capital with 50,000 or so other women and a few men, in the women's march, timed to happen just after the day our 45th president was sworn into office. Way more women marched that day to raise their voices than people came out to support a new world leader. It was, in fact, the largest protest of any kind in our nation's history. I'm no stranger to protesting - my only time riding in the back of a police cruiser was courtesy of my convictions and a few hours lying on the 14th street bridge in Washington D.C., when my sixteen year old self expressed outrage at injustice in the only way I knew how at the time. No, we didn't change the outcome of that situation, a man was still killed on circumstantial evidence and openly racist testimony, but I knew at least we had raised our voices as loudly as we were able. Since then, I have written many letters, marched more than once with like-minded strangers, and managed to not take another ride in the back of a patrol car. But the March on January 21 was special for a lot of reasons. Less anger, more solidarity, for one. In a crowd of around 50,000, I didn't experience more than a handful of those with hateful agendas or bad behavior. There was also a sense of importance in knowing our group was only one of many happening all around the country at the same time - knowing we were part of something larger. We reasserted how democracy can look, and that we haven't forgotten the lessons our grandmothers taught us about the strength of women.
See, I'm not one of the feminist movement who spend even a nano-second hating on men. I like men in general, and love a few in specific. I don't think women are any better or any more important than men. But, I also don't think they're any less important or any less special or capable or worthy. It's the whole idea of equality - to raise up all groups, not to tear anyone else down. That would make less of everyone.
I've not always embraced everything that the world sees as definitive femininity, and have been told I'm not much of a girl on more than one occasion. But still, I embrace what it means for me to be a woman, and what that looks like in my world. See, I appreciate that I can dress as I like, for the most part, and that I live in a place and a time when no one frowns on my showing my ankles, or legs, or arms, or face, or hair, and I can wear my hair as I like and work the job that I like and drive a car, and vote and play sports, and do a myriad of other things that my grandmother didn't enjoy at my age. And I appreciate the women who went before me and made those things possible in my world. The women who marched so that I would have the right to vote. The women who protested so that I could have my own bank account, in my own name. The women who risked their safety to make sure that I have the right to control what happens to my own body and my own reproductive organs.
It's an exciting time right now for women, and it's also exhausting. We are living under a leader who makes others feel free to express hatred, whether he voices it openly himself or not, the public perception of his persona has allowed every misogynistic, racist, homophobic caveman to crawl out from under their rocks and rubble and try to tell us what we can and should do with our bodies, our lives. Whether or not our president personally expresses those beliefs, he's allowed others to do so, and has opened up forums of hatred. Our current political climate has created boundaries between people stronger than any wall that could ever be built. And, I know, sometimes I try too hard to create peace between people, because there are times when the right thing is to pick up a pen or a sword, but in the end, I have to live with the people in my immediate life, and I don't have to talk to the people living in the white house. We can disagree without rancor or violence. So, I'm begging my women friends to remember, no matter their political opinions, on this International Women's day, that we are always stronger together. I do believe we are the stronger sex, because, well, god knows we've had to become that way. I might not win a contest of physical strength, but I promise you I will still be up and moving after every man I know has given up and laid down - because it's what the strong women around me have taught me to do. I am talking about the women who I have known personally and those who have influenced me through my whole life.
In honor of a day that honors our gender, I give to you some of my favorite strong, badass women, with their contributions both huge and small but significant (even if the significance is only to me).
1. Wonder Woman. Yes. Freaking Wonder Woman. I grew up watching reruns of Lynda Carter kicking butt in her boots and golden tiara. She was the strongest lady I could think of when I was five years old, with her lasso of truth. God, how I wanted that lasso of truth, so I could use it on my brother. Better than that, she was a fierce Amazon who embraced love and peace over violence, and she fought only as a last resort. But oh, she could kick butt when she was backed into a corner. Loosely based on inspiration by Margaret Sanger, her creator saw her as a physical embodiment of women's empowerment and she's stayed that through the years.
2. Eleanor of the Aquitaine. Come on, seriously, no one is surprised by how much I love this woman, are they? When I visited the castle at Dover about ten years ago, I appalled those around me by lying down on the floor of her bedchamber, sat in her windowsill, tried to see the world that she might have seen from that warped glass. I mean, you want to talk about a badass babe, this woman was Queen of France, but was put aside by her husband because she "only gave birth to girls." Guess she showed him, because three months after she had been put aside, she was betrothed to the man who would become the King of England, Henry II, and she gave him plenty of sons. Bloody, warring, violent sons who fought amongst themselves and plotted their nasty Plantagenet plots. There are stories that she marched with French soldiers into the Crusades, and she led a revolt against her own husband in favor of her youngest son in 1733, for which she was imprisoned for many years by Henry. I bet, if you could ask her now, she'd say it was totally worth it.
3. Katherine Hepburn. Not too coincidentally, Ms. Hepburn portrayed Eleanor of Aquitaine in the fabulous film The Lion in Winter and I honestly can't think of anyone who could have done that role as much justice. But Kate was a badass of epic proportions. She paved the way for women who followed her, breaking the mold of what a Hollywood starlet was expected to be at the time. Certainly she had her faults, admitting of herself that she was on occasion selfish and impatient, giving no time to press and often snapping off with sarcasm and biting wit. One story says that when she was told she could not wear pants on the studio lot, she walked around in her underwear. And she was referred to by the press as Katherine of Arrogance. But this woman lived a life full of adventure and rule breaking and fierce loving and boundary pushing. Through her art, she left us with a glimpse of what it meant to be more than just a pretty girl.
4. Maya Angelou. Yeah, it's another woman who doesn't really require much of any kind of explanation. This women redefined for many of us what it means to be a woman. A strong, creative, resilient woman who can weather any storm. A woman who was sexually abused as a young girl, who made a living as a prostitute and exotic dancer, a fry cook and went on to become an award winning writer, playwrite, director, and performer, she said it best with two words, "I rise." A good friend of mine has those words tattooed on her wrist to remind her that she too can rise above the things that have been out of her control in life. Angelou celebrated what it means to be a woman, acknowledged the weaknesses, and extolled the strengths. Her writing makes me want to be a better woman. A better person.
5. Michelle Obama. It's 2017, so I know it's OK to admit I've got just a little bit more than a little bit of a girl crush on Michelle Obama. Not just the first lady, but a genuine leader of causes, the way that all the really lovely first ladies have been. She was the wife of the first black president, and that would have made her memorable all on its own, but Michelle made her mark in so many ways. From her programs to get kids eating healthier to her humorous ways of reaching out to the American public. This lady was no less graceful than the wife of the president ought to be, and yet she was also genuine and funny and smart as hell. Ugh. Barack, you were nice, but damn I miss your wife on Pennsylvania Avenue.
6. Marie Curie. I'm a science nerd, so the fact that it was a woman who was the first person to ever win two Nobel prizes in science, well, that makes her one of my all time favorite people. She lost her first love, because his family did not wish him to marry her, and he reportedly regretted this well into his old age, where he was seen gazing at her statue on the square in their town. Marie was awarded Nobel prizes in both Physics and Chemistry and well respected in her field, which she taught at the University of Paris, as their first female professor. During her years of marriage, it was later discovered, Marie carried on a year long affair with a lab assistant of her then husband, and she weathered the scandal without substantial damage to her professional reputation. That in itself says how high of regard she was held in, in terms of her work. During World War II, she headed up the radiation department for the Red Cross, yet another first. She crossed boundaries, lived an incredible life across several countries, and was respected above all for her contributions to science. She's kind of a cliché on this list, I suppose, but I couldn't bear to leave her off - I wrote more than one paper on this lady when I was in school!
7. Madeline L'Engle. It's quite probable that it's only to me that L'Engle has had such an influence. When I was very young, my brother used to read to me, and the Wrinkle in Time series was one of my favorites. When I got older, I sought out some of L'Engle's other books. Some of these were fiction, but many are philosophical discussions, theology, memoirs and poetry. Through her books, I grew to know this woman, her husband, their incredible marriage, and her boundless faith in both god and science. As a woman in my early twenties, I remember being amazed at how absolute her belief was in both and that they coexisted within this woman, who wrote of them with equal eloquence, and could embrace both the known and unknown. She was a writer, a mother, an adventurer, and a complete lover of life. She traveled in hear early 80's to Antarctica, because she'd never been there. Her stories of traveling to post-war Europe and to South America punctuate her writing as well. And of all her experiences, her love, her sorrow, she shared freely and with incredible openness, inviting all of us along for a ride.
8. Yes. Yes, this is my daughter. I'm using her to represent not only both my children, because I think they're both pretty badass in their own way, but also the larger idea of the women who are coming after me. Katie voted for the first time this year, and that was pretty exciting, no matter the outcome. But these girls, they know a lot less limitations that I did, and nothing like my mother or grandmother knew in their days. For them, the future could be limitless, if we can work together, if we can hate the policies and not the people, and work toward change. I hope for them a future where their gender defines a part of who they are, but not their potential, that they build up the other women in their lives, not tear them down, and that they never back down from what they believe and what fires their passions.
So, Women's Day, yeah, I can get behind that. And I am quietly supportive of those who felt the desire to participate in the day without women and didn't go to work today or didn't do housework, or cook, etc. I might go ahead and participate in that no housework thing, just to show my solidarity, you understand. See, I work in education, and I also believe that anyone in a service industry needs to suck it up and go to work and figure out another way to get their point across, because as important as this all is, so too must life go on and be safe and productive.
A little over a month ago, I marched at the Texas state capital with 50,000 or so other women and a few men, in the women's march, timed to happen just after the day our 45th president was sworn into office. Way more women marched that day to raise their voices than people came out to support a new world leader. It was, in fact, the largest protest of any kind in our nation's history. I'm no stranger to protesting - my only time riding in the back of a police cruiser was courtesy of my convictions and a few hours lying on the 14th street bridge in Washington D.C., when my sixteen year old self expressed outrage at injustice in the only way I knew how at the time. No, we didn't change the outcome of that situation, a man was still killed on circumstantial evidence and openly racist testimony, but I knew at least we had raised our voices as loudly as we were able. Since then, I have written many letters, marched more than once with like-minded strangers, and managed to not take another ride in the back of a patrol car. But the March on January 21 was special for a lot of reasons. Less anger, more solidarity, for one. In a crowd of around 50,000, I didn't experience more than a handful of those with hateful agendas or bad behavior. There was also a sense of importance in knowing our group was only one of many happening all around the country at the same time - knowing we were part of something larger. We reasserted how democracy can look, and that we haven't forgotten the lessons our grandmothers taught us about the strength of women.
See, I'm not one of the feminist movement who spend even a nano-second hating on men. I like men in general, and love a few in specific. I don't think women are any better or any more important than men. But, I also don't think they're any less important or any less special or capable or worthy. It's the whole idea of equality - to raise up all groups, not to tear anyone else down. That would make less of everyone.
I've not always embraced everything that the world sees as definitive femininity, and have been told I'm not much of a girl on more than one occasion. But still, I embrace what it means for me to be a woman, and what that looks like in my world. See, I appreciate that I can dress as I like, for the most part, and that I live in a place and a time when no one frowns on my showing my ankles, or legs, or arms, or face, or hair, and I can wear my hair as I like and work the job that I like and drive a car, and vote and play sports, and do a myriad of other things that my grandmother didn't enjoy at my age. And I appreciate the women who went before me and made those things possible in my world. The women who marched so that I would have the right to vote. The women who protested so that I could have my own bank account, in my own name. The women who risked their safety to make sure that I have the right to control what happens to my own body and my own reproductive organs.
It's an exciting time right now for women, and it's also exhausting. We are living under a leader who makes others feel free to express hatred, whether he voices it openly himself or not, the public perception of his persona has allowed every misogynistic, racist, homophobic caveman to crawl out from under their rocks and rubble and try to tell us what we can and should do with our bodies, our lives. Whether or not our president personally expresses those beliefs, he's allowed others to do so, and has opened up forums of hatred. Our current political climate has created boundaries between people stronger than any wall that could ever be built. And, I know, sometimes I try too hard to create peace between people, because there are times when the right thing is to pick up a pen or a sword, but in the end, I have to live with the people in my immediate life, and I don't have to talk to the people living in the white house. We can disagree without rancor or violence. So, I'm begging my women friends to remember, no matter their political opinions, on this International Women's day, that we are always stronger together. I do believe we are the stronger sex, because, well, god knows we've had to become that way. I might not win a contest of physical strength, but I promise you I will still be up and moving after every man I know has given up and laid down - because it's what the strong women around me have taught me to do. I am talking about the women who I have known personally and those who have influenced me through my whole life.
In honor of a day that honors our gender, I give to you some of my favorite strong, badass women, with their contributions both huge and small but significant (even if the significance is only to me).
1. Wonder Woman. Yes. Freaking Wonder Woman. I grew up watching reruns of Lynda Carter kicking butt in her boots and golden tiara. She was the strongest lady I could think of when I was five years old, with her lasso of truth. God, how I wanted that lasso of truth, so I could use it on my brother. Better than that, she was a fierce Amazon who embraced love and peace over violence, and she fought only as a last resort. But oh, she could kick butt when she was backed into a corner. Loosely based on inspiration by Margaret Sanger, her creator saw her as a physical embodiment of women's empowerment and she's stayed that through the years.
2. Eleanor of the Aquitaine. Come on, seriously, no one is surprised by how much I love this woman, are they? When I visited the castle at Dover about ten years ago, I appalled those around me by lying down on the floor of her bedchamber, sat in her windowsill, tried to see the world that she might have seen from that warped glass. I mean, you want to talk about a badass babe, this woman was Queen of France, but was put aside by her husband because she "only gave birth to girls." Guess she showed him, because three months after she had been put aside, she was betrothed to the man who would become the King of England, Henry II, and she gave him plenty of sons. Bloody, warring, violent sons who fought amongst themselves and plotted their nasty Plantagenet plots. There are stories that she marched with French soldiers into the Crusades, and she led a revolt against her own husband in favor of her youngest son in 1733, for which she was imprisoned for many years by Henry. I bet, if you could ask her now, she'd say it was totally worth it.
3. Katherine Hepburn. Not too coincidentally, Ms. Hepburn portrayed Eleanor of Aquitaine in the fabulous film The Lion in Winter and I honestly can't think of anyone who could have done that role as much justice. But Kate was a badass of epic proportions. She paved the way for women who followed her, breaking the mold of what a Hollywood starlet was expected to be at the time. Certainly she had her faults, admitting of herself that she was on occasion selfish and impatient, giving no time to press and often snapping off with sarcasm and biting wit. One story says that when she was told she could not wear pants on the studio lot, she walked around in her underwear. And she was referred to by the press as Katherine of Arrogance. But this woman lived a life full of adventure and rule breaking and fierce loving and boundary pushing. Through her art, she left us with a glimpse of what it meant to be more than just a pretty girl.
4. Maya Angelou. Yeah, it's another woman who doesn't really require much of any kind of explanation. This women redefined for many of us what it means to be a woman. A strong, creative, resilient woman who can weather any storm. A woman who was sexually abused as a young girl, who made a living as a prostitute and exotic dancer, a fry cook and went on to become an award winning writer, playwrite, director, and performer, she said it best with two words, "I rise." A good friend of mine has those words tattooed on her wrist to remind her that she too can rise above the things that have been out of her control in life. Angelou celebrated what it means to be a woman, acknowledged the weaknesses, and extolled the strengths. Her writing makes me want to be a better woman. A better person.
5. Michelle Obama. It's 2017, so I know it's OK to admit I've got just a little bit more than a little bit of a girl crush on Michelle Obama. Not just the first lady, but a genuine leader of causes, the way that all the really lovely first ladies have been. She was the wife of the first black president, and that would have made her memorable all on its own, but Michelle made her mark in so many ways. From her programs to get kids eating healthier to her humorous ways of reaching out to the American public. This lady was no less graceful than the wife of the president ought to be, and yet she was also genuine and funny and smart as hell. Ugh. Barack, you were nice, but damn I miss your wife on Pennsylvania Avenue.
6. Marie Curie. I'm a science nerd, so the fact that it was a woman who was the first person to ever win two Nobel prizes in science, well, that makes her one of my all time favorite people. She lost her first love, because his family did not wish him to marry her, and he reportedly regretted this well into his old age, where he was seen gazing at her statue on the square in their town. Marie was awarded Nobel prizes in both Physics and Chemistry and well respected in her field, which she taught at the University of Paris, as their first female professor. During her years of marriage, it was later discovered, Marie carried on a year long affair with a lab assistant of her then husband, and she weathered the scandal without substantial damage to her professional reputation. That in itself says how high of regard she was held in, in terms of her work. During World War II, she headed up the radiation department for the Red Cross, yet another first. She crossed boundaries, lived an incredible life across several countries, and was respected above all for her contributions to science. She's kind of a cliché on this list, I suppose, but I couldn't bear to leave her off - I wrote more than one paper on this lady when I was in school!
7. Madeline L'Engle. It's quite probable that it's only to me that L'Engle has had such an influence. When I was very young, my brother used to read to me, and the Wrinkle in Time series was one of my favorites. When I got older, I sought out some of L'Engle's other books. Some of these were fiction, but many are philosophical discussions, theology, memoirs and poetry. Through her books, I grew to know this woman, her husband, their incredible marriage, and her boundless faith in both god and science. As a woman in my early twenties, I remember being amazed at how absolute her belief was in both and that they coexisted within this woman, who wrote of them with equal eloquence, and could embrace both the known and unknown. She was a writer, a mother, an adventurer, and a complete lover of life. She traveled in hear early 80's to Antarctica, because she'd never been there. Her stories of traveling to post-war Europe and to South America punctuate her writing as well. And of all her experiences, her love, her sorrow, she shared freely and with incredible openness, inviting all of us along for a ride.
8. Yes. Yes, this is my daughter. I'm using her to represent not only both my children, because I think they're both pretty badass in their own way, but also the larger idea of the women who are coming after me. Katie voted for the first time this year, and that was pretty exciting, no matter the outcome. But these girls, they know a lot less limitations that I did, and nothing like my mother or grandmother knew in their days. For them, the future could be limitless, if we can work together, if we can hate the policies and not the people, and work toward change. I hope for them a future where their gender defines a part of who they are, but not their potential, that they build up the other women in their lives, not tear them down, and that they never back down from what they believe and what fires their passions.
Monday, February 13, 2017
What's Love Got to Do With It?
So, there's a lot of excitement with the students in our school, because tomorrow is Valentine's Day. For the youngest kiddos, this means that they will get a break from instructional time while they get to exchange cards with classmates and eat cookies. For the last few weeks, we've been decorating rooms with hearts in pinks, reds and purples and spending time writing "love notes" for each other, kind words written on paper hearts. To our students, Valentine's Day is just an extension of the sense of connection they already feel with their families and friends, a day to receive physical confirmation that they are valued in exchange.
Several people on my staff have asked me what I'll be doing for Valentine's Day. Well, it's a Tuesday, I answer, so I'll be in jiu jitsu most of the evening, then watch a movie at home. I think they immediately feel sorry for me, because I'm single and won't celebrate with wine and flowers. Well, I can pour wine any time I like (except at work - they frown on that), and I'm not a fan of cut flowers. They feel like a bouquet of impending death to me, and I'd rather my flowers be growing free outdoors. See, even when I was half of a couple, I never saw the magic in Valentine's Day, at least not for adults. It just feels like an excuse for Hallmark to sell more cards and a lot of men to buy candy and such in a state of bewilderment. If Valentine's Day is supposed to be about love and romance, what part of forced gift buying feels romantic?
See, and I started thinking about that, because I'm not sure I actually have a good idea of what is romantic. I've never been on the receiving end of some grand, dramatic gesture to express love. Nor have I made such a gesture. And I've lately started thinking that movies have kind of set us up for some very false expectations. Almost everything I know about the concept of romance has come from the cinema. From my early memories of Luke and Leia swinging across a missing bridge to the spaghetti slurping dogs from Lady and the Tramp, even Disney made its mark on what my friends and I thought of as romance. At that age, I didn't separate romance and love. Romantic gestures were how you demonstrated love. It wasn't until much later in life that I had the epiphany of how softly love could come along or how subtle romance might be in most lives.
My parents were not romantic people, so they were not inspiring it this category, and it was many years before I saw adults really interacting in a way that made their love for one another abundantly clear to anyone around them. Saw my aunt and uncle dance at a wedding, looking every one of their sixty plus years, but then seeing how my uncle still looked at his wife, as though she was still the eighteen year old girl he'd married. He led her around the small dance floor in the way that men rarely learn these days, but all the men of his generation seemed to know, almost by instinct. Or the boyfriend of a college friend who stayed home from a trip to take care of his very sick and very grumpy girlfriend. Or a couple who had been together long enough to have accumulated a life-time of inside jokes and poked fun at one another always, but whose words were at odds with the way they would almost absently touch one another as they moved through their days.
Looking for good suggestions for romantic movies, almost every source lists the same movies, over and over again: Titanic. The Notebook. Shakespeare in Love. The Graduate. Love Actually. Singing in the Rain. A Walk to Remember. Say Anything. Pretty Woman. Nothing wrong with any of those films. Quite a lot right about the majority of them, and a couple of my favorite movies are counted in that list. But, they wouldn't make my list of the most romantic movies out there, although Lloyd Dobbler holding up that ghetto blaster still makes my heart flutter just a little bit, and I doubt that I'm alone in that.
To me, some of the most romantic movies might be some of the most understated in terms of love. But love walks quietly and my idea of romance flounders a bit, having abandoned my image of it from childhood dogs and pasta. So, some possibilities of settling down with a good romance for me?
Remains of the day. Anthony Hopkins. Emma Thompson. Period piece set among the rising tides of war during the 1930's. Surely a romance between the very proper butler and the housekeeper could never truly come to fruition, but the tension between them, the verbal intercourse they share, the looks across a table...and then there is the scene with a book in Stevens' room. The steam practically rose from them, though they rarely touched and never were anything less than proper. Even in their later years, the excitement they each have in the prospect of seeing one another again is heartening and heartbreaking when it doesn't work out as you just darn well know that it should. If only life were fair, it would work out.
Sense and Sensibility. This is my favorite of the spree of early 1990's adaptations of Jane Austen's books. Emma Thompson, again. Alan Rickman (need we even go past him and his silky voice?). Kate Winslet. Hugh Grant. Hugh Laurie. Imelda Staunton. The cast itself was enough to sell me on the film before I saw it. But I was enchanted with parts of this particular adaptation . Jane Austen can get on my nerves at time, with her tongue-in-cheek satire aimed at her peers. She was very young when she wrote many of her novels, and the relationships between them often show that, being melodramatic and full of many tears and much handwringing. Many of her heroines are strong, modern women, who turn to complete fools in the face of love and marriage. Such would be the fate of the lovely Dashwood sisters. As much as Elinor is foolish for pining quietly and suffering silently with her love for Edward, so too is Mariane foolish in her reckless pursuit of the rakish Mr. Willoughby. For a time, I was convinced the greatest love story of this novel was between the sisters, and while that may well be a kernel of truth, so too does the book have its moments of devastating romance. When Elinor is, at last, relieved to find that her Edward has been true and has not married another young woman, the iciest, most practical woman in all of England very quietly and thoroughly goes to pieces. Her moment of sobbing and Edward's bewilderment are one of the most endearing moments with that character, for he is rather bland as milquetoast. But by far the most romantic moment in the film comes when Colonel Brandon follows Mariane out onto the moor, knowing her heart is breaking for Willoughby, knowing she does not see hearts and flowers when she looks at him, and he carries her back to the house in the pounding rain, wanting only for her to be well and happy. In the end, his quiet love wins and out, as Mariane grows up, and sees what a love that can last might really be about. It's a movie I could watch over and over.
So, I'm sitting here waffling between Before Sunset and Before Midnight. Linklater doesn't make it easy for me to choose, yet I feel like I should be narrowing this down to one or the other. Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy just killed it in this whole trilogy, not losing any of their magic with time. In fact, I'd argue that the life experiences of the actors themselves helped shape the directions of their characters. And so, saying that, I'm going to put Before Midnight as my pick for one of my favorite romantic movies. Years and marriage and children have taken their toll, and the idyllic holiday in Greece seems almost too perfect at times, and yet the characters aren't perfect. Their romantic night away together turns into a full blown fight, one that teeters on the edge of ending their marriage. It could have ended their marriage. Maybe if it'd been me, it might have ended my marriage. But then, as Celine sits by the water, watching the faint lights of stars and moon reflecting below, and probably fantasizing about drowning Jesse in it, he returns to her, pretending to start over. Not their night. Their lives together. And she lets him sit down at her table. Not all forgotten, but likely to be forgiven. To me, the romance is in the endurance and in the choice to stay together. We're not all great at that.
The African Queen. Bogart and Hepburn. Pretty much wins, hands, down, just because it's Bogart and Hepburn. Sometimes being together is a choice. Sometimes, fate throws you together and gives you little choice, even if you start out hating one another. This movie has quite a few clichés, with Rose and Charlie as much of an odd couple as you could ever imagine. Cliches exist for a reason. Somewhere, sometime, they have worked well. This is an example of them working well. The look that Rose and Charlie exchange after she's pulled leeches off of him and they communicate all the feelings as he turns around and slips back into the - presumably - very leechy water. It's just as magical as the moment they go over the falls together. Their romance is in their crisis fueled bond - fast, and strong and making each of them a little better (and a little more interesting, for movie goers).
The Quiet Man. I can't have a list of romantic movies without mentioning this one. It has long been one of my favorite movies for a variety of reasons - the scenery. Maureen O'Hara. The quiet strength that was John Wayne. The drinking and the laughs and the moments of pure heat that run between the two of them all make it fabulous. And the fight scene is one of the best ever filmed - where else will you see a fabulous brawl take a break for a pint in the local pub? The scene at the castle in the rain is one of pure little girl fantasy romance. But to me it's watching the spirited independent woman, Mary Kate, soften for Sean Thornton's quiet resolution and give in to her own feelings. And that John Wayne would be welcome to break my bed any time.
Saved this own for last - Bull Durham with Kevin Costner, Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon. So, maybe baseball doesn't have a lot to do with romance, but I'm pretty sure that Susan Sarandon does. I've never been a huge fan of Kevin Costner, but this movie works for him and Crash Davis and Annie in the bathtub and on the kitchen table...some of the sexiest moments ever in a film. It's the very adult honesty between the two of them - even when they're playing games, they know they're playing games - that makes it so incredibly right. When Crash comes back and tells Annie that he's looking to stay in one place and manage a minor league team, and she says she's willing to give up her baseball boys, well, maybe that's about as good as it gets in the real world. If only the real world made time for living room jitterbugging with Kevin Costner.
So, I've got plenty of cinematic material from which to choose for a Tuesday night, if I don't just fall asleep straight away from my time on the mats. I will pour my own wine, and snuggle up with my cat. From the movie Before Sunset, because I couldn't let go of that one either, "When you're young you just believe there'll be many people with whom you'll connect. Later in life, you realize it only happens a few times." Fortunately, even if I never have the kind of romance that Leia and Han did (because when I say "I love you," my cat doesn't say "I know," or much of anything, really, beyond "feed me, you weirdo."), I know that I can always lose myself in a good movie, because we can't all have John Cusak blasting Peter Gabriel outside our windows, but it doesn't mean we don't know love along the way.
Several people on my staff have asked me what I'll be doing for Valentine's Day. Well, it's a Tuesday, I answer, so I'll be in jiu jitsu most of the evening, then watch a movie at home. I think they immediately feel sorry for me, because I'm single and won't celebrate with wine and flowers. Well, I can pour wine any time I like (except at work - they frown on that), and I'm not a fan of cut flowers. They feel like a bouquet of impending death to me, and I'd rather my flowers be growing free outdoors. See, even when I was half of a couple, I never saw the magic in Valentine's Day, at least not for adults. It just feels like an excuse for Hallmark to sell more cards and a lot of men to buy candy and such in a state of bewilderment. If Valentine's Day is supposed to be about love and romance, what part of forced gift buying feels romantic?
See, and I started thinking about that, because I'm not sure I actually have a good idea of what is romantic. I've never been on the receiving end of some grand, dramatic gesture to express love. Nor have I made such a gesture. And I've lately started thinking that movies have kind of set us up for some very false expectations. Almost everything I know about the concept of romance has come from the cinema. From my early memories of Luke and Leia swinging across a missing bridge to the spaghetti slurping dogs from Lady and the Tramp, even Disney made its mark on what my friends and I thought of as romance. At that age, I didn't separate romance and love. Romantic gestures were how you demonstrated love. It wasn't until much later in life that I had the epiphany of how softly love could come along or how subtle romance might be in most lives.
My parents were not romantic people, so they were not inspiring it this category, and it was many years before I saw adults really interacting in a way that made their love for one another abundantly clear to anyone around them. Saw my aunt and uncle dance at a wedding, looking every one of their sixty plus years, but then seeing how my uncle still looked at his wife, as though she was still the eighteen year old girl he'd married. He led her around the small dance floor in the way that men rarely learn these days, but all the men of his generation seemed to know, almost by instinct. Or the boyfriend of a college friend who stayed home from a trip to take care of his very sick and very grumpy girlfriend. Or a couple who had been together long enough to have accumulated a life-time of inside jokes and poked fun at one another always, but whose words were at odds with the way they would almost absently touch one another as they moved through their days.
Looking for good suggestions for romantic movies, almost every source lists the same movies, over and over again: Titanic. The Notebook. Shakespeare in Love. The Graduate. Love Actually. Singing in the Rain. A Walk to Remember. Say Anything. Pretty Woman. Nothing wrong with any of those films. Quite a lot right about the majority of them, and a couple of my favorite movies are counted in that list. But, they wouldn't make my list of the most romantic movies out there, although Lloyd Dobbler holding up that ghetto blaster still makes my heart flutter just a little bit, and I doubt that I'm alone in that.
To me, some of the most romantic movies might be some of the most understated in terms of love. But love walks quietly and my idea of romance flounders a bit, having abandoned my image of it from childhood dogs and pasta. So, some possibilities of settling down with a good romance for me?
Remains of the day. Anthony Hopkins. Emma Thompson. Period piece set among the rising tides of war during the 1930's. Surely a romance between the very proper butler and the housekeeper could never truly come to fruition, but the tension between them, the verbal intercourse they share, the looks across a table...and then there is the scene with a book in Stevens' room. The steam practically rose from them, though they rarely touched and never were anything less than proper. Even in their later years, the excitement they each have in the prospect of seeing one another again is heartening and heartbreaking when it doesn't work out as you just darn well know that it should. If only life were fair, it would work out.
Sense and Sensibility. This is my favorite of the spree of early 1990's adaptations of Jane Austen's books. Emma Thompson, again. Alan Rickman (need we even go past him and his silky voice?). Kate Winslet. Hugh Grant. Hugh Laurie. Imelda Staunton. The cast itself was enough to sell me on the film before I saw it. But I was enchanted with parts of this particular adaptation . Jane Austen can get on my nerves at time, with her tongue-in-cheek satire aimed at her peers. She was very young when she wrote many of her novels, and the relationships between them often show that, being melodramatic and full of many tears and much handwringing. Many of her heroines are strong, modern women, who turn to complete fools in the face of love and marriage. Such would be the fate of the lovely Dashwood sisters. As much as Elinor is foolish for pining quietly and suffering silently with her love for Edward, so too is Mariane foolish in her reckless pursuit of the rakish Mr. Willoughby. For a time, I was convinced the greatest love story of this novel was between the sisters, and while that may well be a kernel of truth, so too does the book have its moments of devastating romance. When Elinor is, at last, relieved to find that her Edward has been true and has not married another young woman, the iciest, most practical woman in all of England very quietly and thoroughly goes to pieces. Her moment of sobbing and Edward's bewilderment are one of the most endearing moments with that character, for he is rather bland as milquetoast. But by far the most romantic moment in the film comes when Colonel Brandon follows Mariane out onto the moor, knowing her heart is breaking for Willoughby, knowing she does not see hearts and flowers when she looks at him, and he carries her back to the house in the pounding rain, wanting only for her to be well and happy. In the end, his quiet love wins and out, as Mariane grows up, and sees what a love that can last might really be about. It's a movie I could watch over and over.
So, I'm sitting here waffling between Before Sunset and Before Midnight. Linklater doesn't make it easy for me to choose, yet I feel like I should be narrowing this down to one or the other. Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy just killed it in this whole trilogy, not losing any of their magic with time. In fact, I'd argue that the life experiences of the actors themselves helped shape the directions of their characters. And so, saying that, I'm going to put Before Midnight as my pick for one of my favorite romantic movies. Years and marriage and children have taken their toll, and the idyllic holiday in Greece seems almost too perfect at times, and yet the characters aren't perfect. Their romantic night away together turns into a full blown fight, one that teeters on the edge of ending their marriage. It could have ended their marriage. Maybe if it'd been me, it might have ended my marriage. But then, as Celine sits by the water, watching the faint lights of stars and moon reflecting below, and probably fantasizing about drowning Jesse in it, he returns to her, pretending to start over. Not their night. Their lives together. And she lets him sit down at her table. Not all forgotten, but likely to be forgiven. To me, the romance is in the endurance and in the choice to stay together. We're not all great at that.
The African Queen. Bogart and Hepburn. Pretty much wins, hands, down, just because it's Bogart and Hepburn. Sometimes being together is a choice. Sometimes, fate throws you together and gives you little choice, even if you start out hating one another. This movie has quite a few clichés, with Rose and Charlie as much of an odd couple as you could ever imagine. Cliches exist for a reason. Somewhere, sometime, they have worked well. This is an example of them working well. The look that Rose and Charlie exchange after she's pulled leeches off of him and they communicate all the feelings as he turns around and slips back into the - presumably - very leechy water. It's just as magical as the moment they go over the falls together. Their romance is in their crisis fueled bond - fast, and strong and making each of them a little better (and a little more interesting, for movie goers).
The Quiet Man. I can't have a list of romantic movies without mentioning this one. It has long been one of my favorite movies for a variety of reasons - the scenery. Maureen O'Hara. The quiet strength that was John Wayne. The drinking and the laughs and the moments of pure heat that run between the two of them all make it fabulous. And the fight scene is one of the best ever filmed - where else will you see a fabulous brawl take a break for a pint in the local pub? The scene at the castle in the rain is one of pure little girl fantasy romance. But to me it's watching the spirited independent woman, Mary Kate, soften for Sean Thornton's quiet resolution and give in to her own feelings. And that John Wayne would be welcome to break my bed any time.
Saved this own for last - Bull Durham with Kevin Costner, Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon. So, maybe baseball doesn't have a lot to do with romance, but I'm pretty sure that Susan Sarandon does. I've never been a huge fan of Kevin Costner, but this movie works for him and Crash Davis and Annie in the bathtub and on the kitchen table...some of the sexiest moments ever in a film. It's the very adult honesty between the two of them - even when they're playing games, they know they're playing games - that makes it so incredibly right. When Crash comes back and tells Annie that he's looking to stay in one place and manage a minor league team, and she says she's willing to give up her baseball boys, well, maybe that's about as good as it gets in the real world. If only the real world made time for living room jitterbugging with Kevin Costner.
I don't know if any of those movies show much of real life, but at least they give us a glimpse of what romance might be about, whether it's in the quiet, still moments, or in the sweeping grand gestures.
So, I've got plenty of cinematic material from which to choose for a Tuesday night, if I don't just fall asleep straight away from my time on the mats. I will pour my own wine, and snuggle up with my cat. From the movie Before Sunset, because I couldn't let go of that one either, "When you're young you just believe there'll be many people with whom you'll connect. Later in life, you realize it only happens a few times." Fortunately, even if I never have the kind of romance that Leia and Han did (because when I say "I love you," my cat doesn't say "I know," or much of anything, really, beyond "feed me, you weirdo."), I know that I can always lose myself in a good movie, because we can't all have John Cusak blasting Peter Gabriel outside our windows, but it doesn't mean we don't know love along the way.
Tuesday, February 7, 2017
Separate but Equal
Before today ends, we will hear a decision from the Senate that I'm taking a little more personally than maybe some people do. With an expected very close decision, the president's nomination for Secretary of Education will be confirmed, or not confirmed. See, I have nothing personal against this lady, as I'm sure she has very deep rooted beliefs about education, and I am positive she is knowledgeable about sections of the education sector. But...from everything I have seen, her view is a very narrow one, a very privileged one - both in her own education, her career, and the educational path she has chosen for her own children - and she'd be governing our public school sectors.
My youngest daughter is a student in the Spring Branch Independent School District, and my oldest just graduated from that same district and attends a local, public college. They both attended the private school where I teach for elementary school, but I purposely chose a public school for their high school, because I believe there are a different skill set that could be obtained there, beyond just academics, with a broader range of course offerings and a school that would challenge each of them to be more self-sufficient and to develop a voice for themselves. Both their private and public school backgrounds have helped them grow as students and as people, in very different ways.
Growing up, we moved a lot. My own education was a patchwork of different public and private schools, and I attended educational institutions that included rural public schools, a huge public high school, tiny parochial schools, private Baptist schools, independent schools with no religious affiliations, one charter school and one very interesting experimental school (and I'm not sure a diploma from there would have counted, but I was young and it was a good experience none-the-less). I've been in on-level classes, gifted programs, and spent two weeks in special education in a small town Alabama school - because the teacher couldn't understand me when I talked without the same accent as everyone else.
As an adult, I didn't actually set out to become a teacher, but found myself gradually pulled in that direction. It wasn't until I actually got into a classroom that I figured out where I had true passion and that it set me on fire to teach my students and provide opportunities for them. Even now, it doesn't matter what the subject is, if I have a firm grasp on the material, I will fall in love with teaching and my students. There is absolutely nothing quite like seeing someone light up when they take ownership of a new concept and have that "I get it" look on their face. I love teaching and have worked in education for twenty years. But...I'm not qualified to speak authoritatively for others on the subject, or make broad educational leadership decisions. I'm good at what I do in my own little sector. Just like Betsy DeVos is likely very good at her own little niche. There are others out there with a wider vision, those whose experience and educational background gives them a voice that could speak for a broad range of students of all backgrounds across our country.
Public education in our country has never been a cut and dried proposition. The first public schools were established in Massachusetts in the 17th century, by our Puritan friends who believed every child needed to be able to read, so they could live by the word of the bible. Those public schools weren't free, and students had to have a base of knowledge before stepping into those one room school houses. Fast forward a century or so, and it was widely recognized that there was a deeper need for public education. But it wasn't as simple as all of that - who would pay for it? Who was deserving of receiving that public education? Thomas Jefferson - and I'll take a big deep breath and sigh here - he was a brilliant man, but something of an intellectual snob. He believed in public education, but an education that was designed to further divide the workers and the elite. He proposed a public system with two tracks - one for the laborers, and one for the wealthy leaders. It would further cement your fate in life, by being set upon one track or the other.
Colonial society dictated that well-off young men attend schools. Young ladies were educated at home by their mothers, with the idea of Patriotic Motherhood - it was the duty of all women to be able to teach their sons, so that they might better themselves.
In an interesting twist, Pennsylvania even called for free public education for the poor, while those families with the means were required to pay for education.
With the survey of the Northwest Territories, townships were formed, and space set aside for a public school each town. Massachusetts continued to lead the way in education, providing the first public high school and making public school education available for free to all who qualified to attend. The first school boards were established there. Pennsylvania and New York took their cues from Massachusetts and education as flourishing in the north-eastern states.
But in the south, education was spotty and those from poorer backgrounds, girls, and African-Americans - free or slave - did not attend school at all. Girls were educated at home, by their mothers, and economic status often dictated how much education a young woman would have available. Beyond basic reading and arithmetic, most were virtually uneducated.
It was post civil war, when the country was torn apart in every conceivable way - socially, economically, geographically and architecturally wounded, and trying to rebuild that the idea of separate but equal was first brought into our common vocabulary. It was a protection built into our fourteenth amendment. Separate but equal sounds like it should be just fine on the surface. You attend your school, we'll attend ours, and it'll all be fine. We each have a school.
But equal didn't mean equitable. Not all schools were created equal, and states were overseeing the governing of these separate facilities. So, while black students were guaranteed a school to attend, it was up to the state to maintain the facilities, hire the teachers, and maintain the standards. All black public colleges were established, but poorly funded in many states. Often those separate schools had no books, few desks, and sometimes not even heat.
At the turn of the twentieth century, local representatives on school boards in most cities were eliminated, in favor of city-wide elections. This means that, in most cases, the poorer districts lost representation on school boards, while federal funding was cut and those with interests in the more affluent families were making the educational decisions regarding budgeting and availability of resources.
In 1948, in the Brown vs. The Board of Education decision, the US Supreme Court ruled that segregation in schools was inherently unequal. But, on local levels, schools remained as segregated as ever, with geographical demographics and socio-economic lines firmly drawn and determining school placement. Schools with poorer families continued to draw less funding, particularly during the years when standardized testing achievement helped determine funding within a district. Don't believe that's true? Check it out. It still happens today. STAAR testing anyone? What did you think all those blue ribbon schools were about?
I attended a public school in rural Alabama in the late 1970's/early 1980's and it was there that I first met discrimination and the recognition that life wasn't fair. I spent two weeks in special education - my classmates were two deaf children, two black children, and two students who spoke only Spanish. We had no books, no windows in our closet of a classroom, and no materials of any kind. The teacher was furnished with a blackboard, tables (we didn't rate desks) and a dictionary. Period. My mother had me out of there pretty quickly, but those other students didn't have any advocates, and they stayed in special education, forever changing their educational trajectory because they were inconveniently different.
Over the last couple of decades, several states have allowed vouchers, to allow students to apply state funding to attend private schools, or religious based schools. Students are allowed to transfer to other schools within their districts. But, see, students who transfer schools are rarely provided with state funded transportation and those in poorer communities are often children of two working parents who cannot take the time to drive their children and pick them up, or pay for expensive after school care. And so those children attend their local schools. Schools where no one transfers, where their funding has gone into vouchers for students who DID manage to go somewhere else. So schools in poorer neighborhoods receive even less funding than before.
At the turn of this century, more than a quarter of our children attend private schools now. Everyone pays taxes to public schools, but not all schools receive equal funding. We are WIDENING the educational gap, folks. We are slowly chipping away at the middle class and recreating a society of worker bees and educated elite.
Now, the world doesn't go round without the worker bees - I get that. Do whatever job you have and do it well. But somewhere in there, somewhere in childhood, there ought to be a choice. Not everyone is cut out to go to college. I totally get that. But everyone ought to have the opportunity to decide that. The road we're headed down takes that choice away for many.
Betsy DeVos has a really good perspective on a narrow part of education, but her eye is not on the big picture - the one that is the view for the majority of us. She's never known, personally, or with even second hand experience, what it's like to jump through the hoops that are associated with federal grants or financial aid so you or your kids can attend college without being in debt for life. She's never had to put her kids on the corner to wait for a bus to take them to the public school. I bet she's never gotten a frantic text from her kids that they are on lockdown and her kid is hiding in the tunnel beneath the stage in the school theatre. Or that her kids' friend had their lunch thrown away because they were out of money on their lunch ticket. Or any of the other realities that the rest of us face every single day in the struggle to make sure our kids get the opportunities they deserve.
So, yeah, I'm a little heated up about this. Public school in our country is a mess. Federal laws give just enough legitimacy that states are able to make some pretty horrible decisions at times, and still point at the umbrella of the federal government. There need to be changes in public schools - no doubt what-so-ever. But she's not the person to make these changes. She will only reinforce the separate but equal that has still be slowly at work in our schools, long after it was decided that it was actually not constitutional.
So, yes, I'll be breaking my own rule about not checking the news during my work day - because it usually just distracts me and keeps me from being as good as I can be at my own job. Because this is important. I'm a teacher. But even if I weren't, I'd recognize that education is the answer to almost every social ill. Educate yourselves and vote. I'll be saying this a lot - feel free to ignore me on that, if you can. I'm kinda loud when it's something important. Educate yourself and raise your voice, in entirely not separate or equal ways.
My youngest daughter is a student in the Spring Branch Independent School District, and my oldest just graduated from that same district and attends a local, public college. They both attended the private school where I teach for elementary school, but I purposely chose a public school for their high school, because I believe there are a different skill set that could be obtained there, beyond just academics, with a broader range of course offerings and a school that would challenge each of them to be more self-sufficient and to develop a voice for themselves. Both their private and public school backgrounds have helped them grow as students and as people, in very different ways.
Growing up, we moved a lot. My own education was a patchwork of different public and private schools, and I attended educational institutions that included rural public schools, a huge public high school, tiny parochial schools, private Baptist schools, independent schools with no religious affiliations, one charter school and one very interesting experimental school (and I'm not sure a diploma from there would have counted, but I was young and it was a good experience none-the-less). I've been in on-level classes, gifted programs, and spent two weeks in special education in a small town Alabama school - because the teacher couldn't understand me when I talked without the same accent as everyone else.
As an adult, I didn't actually set out to become a teacher, but found myself gradually pulled in that direction. It wasn't until I actually got into a classroom that I figured out where I had true passion and that it set me on fire to teach my students and provide opportunities for them. Even now, it doesn't matter what the subject is, if I have a firm grasp on the material, I will fall in love with teaching and my students. There is absolutely nothing quite like seeing someone light up when they take ownership of a new concept and have that "I get it" look on their face. I love teaching and have worked in education for twenty years. But...I'm not qualified to speak authoritatively for others on the subject, or make broad educational leadership decisions. I'm good at what I do in my own little sector. Just like Betsy DeVos is likely very good at her own little niche. There are others out there with a wider vision, those whose experience and educational background gives them a voice that could speak for a broad range of students of all backgrounds across our country.
Public education in our country has never been a cut and dried proposition. The first public schools were established in Massachusetts in the 17th century, by our Puritan friends who believed every child needed to be able to read, so they could live by the word of the bible. Those public schools weren't free, and students had to have a base of knowledge before stepping into those one room school houses. Fast forward a century or so, and it was widely recognized that there was a deeper need for public education. But it wasn't as simple as all of that - who would pay for it? Who was deserving of receiving that public education? Thomas Jefferson - and I'll take a big deep breath and sigh here - he was a brilliant man, but something of an intellectual snob. He believed in public education, but an education that was designed to further divide the workers and the elite. He proposed a public system with two tracks - one for the laborers, and one for the wealthy leaders. It would further cement your fate in life, by being set upon one track or the other.
Colonial society dictated that well-off young men attend schools. Young ladies were educated at home by their mothers, with the idea of Patriotic Motherhood - it was the duty of all women to be able to teach their sons, so that they might better themselves.
In an interesting twist, Pennsylvania even called for free public education for the poor, while those families with the means were required to pay for education.
With the survey of the Northwest Territories, townships were formed, and space set aside for a public school each town. Massachusetts continued to lead the way in education, providing the first public high school and making public school education available for free to all who qualified to attend. The first school boards were established there. Pennsylvania and New York took their cues from Massachusetts and education as flourishing in the north-eastern states.
But in the south, education was spotty and those from poorer backgrounds, girls, and African-Americans - free or slave - did not attend school at all. Girls were educated at home, by their mothers, and economic status often dictated how much education a young woman would have available. Beyond basic reading and arithmetic, most were virtually uneducated.
It was post civil war, when the country was torn apart in every conceivable way - socially, economically, geographically and architecturally wounded, and trying to rebuild that the idea of separate but equal was first brought into our common vocabulary. It was a protection built into our fourteenth amendment. Separate but equal sounds like it should be just fine on the surface. You attend your school, we'll attend ours, and it'll all be fine. We each have a school.
But equal didn't mean equitable. Not all schools were created equal, and states were overseeing the governing of these separate facilities. So, while black students were guaranteed a school to attend, it was up to the state to maintain the facilities, hire the teachers, and maintain the standards. All black public colleges were established, but poorly funded in many states. Often those separate schools had no books, few desks, and sometimes not even heat.
At the turn of the twentieth century, local representatives on school boards in most cities were eliminated, in favor of city-wide elections. This means that, in most cases, the poorer districts lost representation on school boards, while federal funding was cut and those with interests in the more affluent families were making the educational decisions regarding budgeting and availability of resources.
In 1948, in the Brown vs. The Board of Education decision, the US Supreme Court ruled that segregation in schools was inherently unequal. But, on local levels, schools remained as segregated as ever, with geographical demographics and socio-economic lines firmly drawn and determining school placement. Schools with poorer families continued to draw less funding, particularly during the years when standardized testing achievement helped determine funding within a district. Don't believe that's true? Check it out. It still happens today. STAAR testing anyone? What did you think all those blue ribbon schools were about?
I attended a public school in rural Alabama in the late 1970's/early 1980's and it was there that I first met discrimination and the recognition that life wasn't fair. I spent two weeks in special education - my classmates were two deaf children, two black children, and two students who spoke only Spanish. We had no books, no windows in our closet of a classroom, and no materials of any kind. The teacher was furnished with a blackboard, tables (we didn't rate desks) and a dictionary. Period. My mother had me out of there pretty quickly, but those other students didn't have any advocates, and they stayed in special education, forever changing their educational trajectory because they were inconveniently different.
Over the last couple of decades, several states have allowed vouchers, to allow students to apply state funding to attend private schools, or religious based schools. Students are allowed to transfer to other schools within their districts. But, see, students who transfer schools are rarely provided with state funded transportation and those in poorer communities are often children of two working parents who cannot take the time to drive their children and pick them up, or pay for expensive after school care. And so those children attend their local schools. Schools where no one transfers, where their funding has gone into vouchers for students who DID manage to go somewhere else. So schools in poorer neighborhoods receive even less funding than before.
At the turn of this century, more than a quarter of our children attend private schools now. Everyone pays taxes to public schools, but not all schools receive equal funding. We are WIDENING the educational gap, folks. We are slowly chipping away at the middle class and recreating a society of worker bees and educated elite.
Now, the world doesn't go round without the worker bees - I get that. Do whatever job you have and do it well. But somewhere in there, somewhere in childhood, there ought to be a choice. Not everyone is cut out to go to college. I totally get that. But everyone ought to have the opportunity to decide that. The road we're headed down takes that choice away for many.
Betsy DeVos has a really good perspective on a narrow part of education, but her eye is not on the big picture - the one that is the view for the majority of us. She's never known, personally, or with even second hand experience, what it's like to jump through the hoops that are associated with federal grants or financial aid so you or your kids can attend college without being in debt for life. She's never had to put her kids on the corner to wait for a bus to take them to the public school. I bet she's never gotten a frantic text from her kids that they are on lockdown and her kid is hiding in the tunnel beneath the stage in the school theatre. Or that her kids' friend had their lunch thrown away because they were out of money on their lunch ticket. Or any of the other realities that the rest of us face every single day in the struggle to make sure our kids get the opportunities they deserve.
So, yeah, I'm a little heated up about this. Public school in our country is a mess. Federal laws give just enough legitimacy that states are able to make some pretty horrible decisions at times, and still point at the umbrella of the federal government. There need to be changes in public schools - no doubt what-so-ever. But she's not the person to make these changes. She will only reinforce the separate but equal that has still be slowly at work in our schools, long after it was decided that it was actually not constitutional.
So, yes, I'll be breaking my own rule about not checking the news during my work day - because it usually just distracts me and keeps me from being as good as I can be at my own job. Because this is important. I'm a teacher. But even if I weren't, I'd recognize that education is the answer to almost every social ill. Educate yourselves and vote. I'll be saying this a lot - feel free to ignore me on that, if you can. I'm kinda loud when it's something important. Educate yourself and raise your voice, in entirely not separate or equal ways.
Monday, February 6, 2017
Upon Which I Blather About Because It's My Right
Let a crown be placed there upon, by which the world may know, that as far as we approve of monarcy, that in America the law is King. For as in absolute governments the King is law, so in free countries the law ought to be King; and there ought to be no other.
- Thomas Paine
I stumbled across the above quote recently, and found comfort in the words. It reminded me that our country is a democracy and though we may all voice our thoughts, and we may disagree, no one man can make decisions for all. It was my thought last November, when I saw the upheaval that followed in the wake of our presidential election, that the constitution was steady, that the laws of our founding fathers were there to prevent any one person, or party, from taking all control.
Last week, I had moments of doubt about the strength of our own constitution, whether the branches could stand against the rising wind that is shaking them right now. So, I went back, and I read the constitution, and all its amendments. I reread the monumental decisions made in the highest courts that laid the foundation for the amendments. And found comfort in knowing I'm not the only one doing so these days.
As a nation, many of us have become complacent in our freedoms, lazy in our political participation, and ignorant of what our laws actually say. I'm guilty of some of these. And I find some satisfaction in knowing that all around me, a desire to participate in democracy is rising from across the country - all ages, genders, economic demographics, and races. We the people means all people, and everyone has vested interest in what happens to our country.
See, I guess what does concern me is that our founding fathers couldn't have foreseen what the press would come to look like, when they were granted freedom of speech. They couldn't possibly have even imagined ways in which someone could toss their thoughts out to the entire world with the mere push of a button, the immediacy of communication, and the devastating consequences of that power being abused. Scrolling through my newsfeed, seeing the alerts that pop up on my phone all day long, I wonder what they would make of the incredible deluge of information we shift through every single day, often looking for just that one common thread of truth.
They couldn't possibly have known there would come a time when no one would really need to own a gun to put food on their table, or defend themselves against wild animals or natives who were defending their territory. They couldn't have imagined that the rifles and pistols they knew would give way to guns that could fire out several rounds per second and shoot through walls and doors and cars. They didn't even know about cars. I mean, they knew about bears, and apparently we're supposed to worry about those in schools, so maybe defending with arms against bears was always their intent. In that case, my apologies.
In other words, our founding fathers were flawed, but they were not fools. They understood enough of what they didn't want for our country and did their very best to safeguard us for the duration. Those white, free, mostly wealthy and definitely all male, people did the best they could within their own scope of experience to protect our rights and to set up a government that was able to balance itself. A government that was designed to withstand some discourse and to allow representatives of all the people to come together and hash out their differences..
We did get to see a grown man come to power and then have temper tantrums publicly, through social media, because he didn't get his way. Didn't get to have absolute power over absolutely everything, because the checks and balances those men put together in a document for us, over two centuries ago, stopped him from acting as a dictator. Or a monarch. Or one of any other type of government that doesn't allow its people to vote, and speak freely, and disagree with their government. That's right. We get to disagree.
Now, my neighbor might not agree with that, might call me a whiny liberal, but it's totally within my rights to voice my opinion, to do it publicly, to do it loudly. It's not within my rights to block businesses, destroy property, or do anything that might cause harm to another person or their belongings. And I'm appalled by the few people who have felt enough rage to do these things, because their actions drown out the words of those with similar opinions and a better way of expressing them.
I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy. My sons ought to study mathematics and philosophy, geography, natural history and naval architecture, navigation, commerce, and agriculture, in order to give their children a right to study painting, poetry, music, architecture, statuary, tapestry and porcelain.
- John Adams
The men who built our country were forged by fire. The freedoms of their children and generations to come were secured through their actions, their faith in what liberties should belong to all men, and through their words. These men were far from perfect - their flip-flopping over the wording in the ratification of the Articles of Confederation were what allowed slavery to continue to flourish far longer than most of them saw practical. They resolved some matters, and left others to fester until there would be civil war a scant half century later. But they had a vision, too, for not only what their country could be at the dawn of the 19th century, but what it could be for their grand children's grand children. And they designed a document that would stand time, because, it could be amended. They knew they couldn't foresee every scenario, and they left room to amend the constitution, but under strictures that would prevent a monarchy from forming out of any change. The people still get a say, and no president can make all the decisions alone.
If John Adams dreamed that his grandchildren would have the freedom to study the arts, then he surely saw an end to the violence that had punctuated his early years and saw hope in the exhausting years he had invested in helping draft laws that would govern our country even today. I've long been a fan of John Adams, as is no secret, and of his wife, Abigail. I'll even admit that, if you can have a girl crush on a lady who lived two centuries ago, I do and she's the object of my affection. Adams gave credence to what his wife said, took her opinion into account, and had great respect for women, not seeing them as lesser of anything, though like his peers, likely saw them as weaker and needing protection.
It wouldn't be until much, much later that ladies would have a right to vote, a right to voice their thoughts, a right to be financially independent. We enjoy those things now, but are still seen as far from equal in the business world. But under our constitution, we have just as much right to an opinion, and to voice it freely.
We are just over two weeks into a new administration in our national government. I don't know where this is going, but what I do know is that it has kindled an interest in government and history such as has not been seen in my lifetime. While elections in my adulthood have been largely apathetic and poorly attended, I now see citizens who are fired up, and having heated debate over liberties - immigration, women's rights, gay rights, the right to speak freely, the right to protect our environment, the right to personal beliefs.
Just as our new president has the absolute right to tweet whatever he likes, we have the right to dispute that loudly and -usually - with far more eloquence. It's the gift our founding fathers left for us. We are all still free men and women, and we still live under a document that covers us and gives a small layer of protection, despite the efforts to poke holes in it. The key to all is to study, to educate, and then to speak with eloquence and passion. I don't mean the kind of passion that throws bricks at glass windows, or makes ugly threats to people you have never met. I mean the kind of passion that will reach out to help someone you don't know, to voice your thoughts, to become uncomfortable in an effort that maybe your grandchildren will live more comfortably, not afraid to show their race, or religion, or sexuality.
And, when I was thinking about this last week, this was the scene that came to mind, it's from a movie I've always enjoyed, though I first watched it because I had maybe just a little crush on Brendan Fraser. But this speech by Joe Pesci is too good for me not to end this expression of free speech.
- Thomas Paine
I stumbled across the above quote recently, and found comfort in the words. It reminded me that our country is a democracy and though we may all voice our thoughts, and we may disagree, no one man can make decisions for all. It was my thought last November, when I saw the upheaval that followed in the wake of our presidential election, that the constitution was steady, that the laws of our founding fathers were there to prevent any one person, or party, from taking all control.
Last week, I had moments of doubt about the strength of our own constitution, whether the branches could stand against the rising wind that is shaking them right now. So, I went back, and I read the constitution, and all its amendments. I reread the monumental decisions made in the highest courts that laid the foundation for the amendments. And found comfort in knowing I'm not the only one doing so these days.
As a nation, many of us have become complacent in our freedoms, lazy in our political participation, and ignorant of what our laws actually say. I'm guilty of some of these. And I find some satisfaction in knowing that all around me, a desire to participate in democracy is rising from across the country - all ages, genders, economic demographics, and races. We the people means all people, and everyone has vested interest in what happens to our country.
See, I guess what does concern me is that our founding fathers couldn't have foreseen what the press would come to look like, when they were granted freedom of speech. They couldn't possibly have even imagined ways in which someone could toss their thoughts out to the entire world with the mere push of a button, the immediacy of communication, and the devastating consequences of that power being abused. Scrolling through my newsfeed, seeing the alerts that pop up on my phone all day long, I wonder what they would make of the incredible deluge of information we shift through every single day, often looking for just that one common thread of truth.
They couldn't possibly have known there would come a time when no one would really need to own a gun to put food on their table, or defend themselves against wild animals or natives who were defending their territory. They couldn't have imagined that the rifles and pistols they knew would give way to guns that could fire out several rounds per second and shoot through walls and doors and cars. They didn't even know about cars. I mean, they knew about bears, and apparently we're supposed to worry about those in schools, so maybe defending with arms against bears was always their intent. In that case, my apologies.
In other words, our founding fathers were flawed, but they were not fools. They understood enough of what they didn't want for our country and did their very best to safeguard us for the duration. Those white, free, mostly wealthy and definitely all male, people did the best they could within their own scope of experience to protect our rights and to set up a government that was able to balance itself. A government that was designed to withstand some discourse and to allow representatives of all the people to come together and hash out their differences..
We did get to see a grown man come to power and then have temper tantrums publicly, through social media, because he didn't get his way. Didn't get to have absolute power over absolutely everything, because the checks and balances those men put together in a document for us, over two centuries ago, stopped him from acting as a dictator. Or a monarch. Or one of any other type of government that doesn't allow its people to vote, and speak freely, and disagree with their government. That's right. We get to disagree.
Now, my neighbor might not agree with that, might call me a whiny liberal, but it's totally within my rights to voice my opinion, to do it publicly, to do it loudly. It's not within my rights to block businesses, destroy property, or do anything that might cause harm to another person or their belongings. And I'm appalled by the few people who have felt enough rage to do these things, because their actions drown out the words of those with similar opinions and a better way of expressing them.
I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy. My sons ought to study mathematics and philosophy, geography, natural history and naval architecture, navigation, commerce, and agriculture, in order to give their children a right to study painting, poetry, music, architecture, statuary, tapestry and porcelain.
- John Adams
The men who built our country were forged by fire. The freedoms of their children and generations to come were secured through their actions, their faith in what liberties should belong to all men, and through their words. These men were far from perfect - their flip-flopping over the wording in the ratification of the Articles of Confederation were what allowed slavery to continue to flourish far longer than most of them saw practical. They resolved some matters, and left others to fester until there would be civil war a scant half century later. But they had a vision, too, for not only what their country could be at the dawn of the 19th century, but what it could be for their grand children's grand children. And they designed a document that would stand time, because, it could be amended. They knew they couldn't foresee every scenario, and they left room to amend the constitution, but under strictures that would prevent a monarchy from forming out of any change. The people still get a say, and no president can make all the decisions alone.
If John Adams dreamed that his grandchildren would have the freedom to study the arts, then he surely saw an end to the violence that had punctuated his early years and saw hope in the exhausting years he had invested in helping draft laws that would govern our country even today. I've long been a fan of John Adams, as is no secret, and of his wife, Abigail. I'll even admit that, if you can have a girl crush on a lady who lived two centuries ago, I do and she's the object of my affection. Adams gave credence to what his wife said, took her opinion into account, and had great respect for women, not seeing them as lesser of anything, though like his peers, likely saw them as weaker and needing protection.
It wouldn't be until much, much later that ladies would have a right to vote, a right to voice their thoughts, a right to be financially independent. We enjoy those things now, but are still seen as far from equal in the business world. But under our constitution, we have just as much right to an opinion, and to voice it freely.
We are just over two weeks into a new administration in our national government. I don't know where this is going, but what I do know is that it has kindled an interest in government and history such as has not been seen in my lifetime. While elections in my adulthood have been largely apathetic and poorly attended, I now see citizens who are fired up, and having heated debate over liberties - immigration, women's rights, gay rights, the right to speak freely, the right to protect our environment, the right to personal beliefs.
Just as our new president has the absolute right to tweet whatever he likes, we have the right to dispute that loudly and -usually - with far more eloquence. It's the gift our founding fathers left for us. We are all still free men and women, and we still live under a document that covers us and gives a small layer of protection, despite the efforts to poke holes in it. The key to all is to study, to educate, and then to speak with eloquence and passion. I don't mean the kind of passion that throws bricks at glass windows, or makes ugly threats to people you have never met. I mean the kind of passion that will reach out to help someone you don't know, to voice your thoughts, to become uncomfortable in an effort that maybe your grandchildren will live more comfortably, not afraid to show their race, or religion, or sexuality.
And, when I was thinking about this last week, this was the scene that came to mind, it's from a movie I've always enjoyed, though I first watched it because I had maybe just a little crush on Brendan Fraser. But this speech by Joe Pesci is too good for me not to end this expression of free speech.
Friday, January 6, 2017
Legacy
Last night, I had the honor of witnessing and participating in something special with my Urban Jungle jiu jitsu family. Our coach/sensei/mentor/friend, Tony Torres-Aponte, was honored and recognized as the highest ranking black belt under his coach/sensei/mentor/friend, Royce Gracie. Now, this won't mean much to my friends who don't do jiu jitsu, many of whom are sometimes weary of hearing me talk about BJJ. But, where Tony is, is a place that can only be reached through a lifetime of commitment and a complete dedication not only to the martial art, but to the lifestyle. The belt he wears says that he has chosen to live his life in the way of those who came before him, those who passed on their knowledge and shared their passion. It means that he has embraced taking care of himself, taking care of those around him, respect for himself and respect for others, for a lifetime commitment to training and health and treating others with the dignity they deserve. His belt says all of that to those who know what it means. A black belt in Brazilian jiu jitsu isn't like a black belt in some other martial arts - it's a commitment of more than a decade, an acknowledgement of skills, knowledge, humility and respect. But in the end, it's just a symbol. Anyone who meets Tony can surmise those things, just from standing and talking with him. The belt is a visual reminder of what we all already know.
As we sat on the mat last night, flanked on every side by our training partners, still wearing the sweat we'd earned during class upstairs just a few minutes before, we listened to the higher ranking belts talk about their own journeys in jiu jitsu and how Tony had influenced their training and their lives in every possible way. Some of them have known him and his family for nearly two decades, have trained under him, raised their children along side him, been a part of his extended family. Every one of them had a story about how he had changed their lives for the better, not just through training, but through teaching them how to be better people. Sometimes he does it by kicking your butt, but mostly through leading by example. We see on a daily basis how he handles family, business, conflict, physical challenges, winning, losing, and a million other things. It makes those around him want to emulate his calm approach and careful observations.
One student after another, many of them now incredibly talented teachers of the art, in their own right, gave their memories of what made Tony special, what made our school a special place to be. Some of these men I have trained with every week, and some I had never met before. They all had experiences in common, and I count them part of my family no matter which category they fit, just as I do my regular training partners. We're all a part of some weird, sometimes dysfunctional, family - we do what families do: we support one another, listen to each other's problems and cheer for their victories, we hug a lot. Because of the way I grew up, hugging had never been comfortable for me, unless it involved small children, but that's changed since stepping onto the mats. It's hard to be at Urban Jungle and not hug a lot. I'd also not cried much since I was a kid, and that's changed recently too. There is no inherent weakness in tears, and we were all reminded of that last night, watching grown men wipe away tears, and then Jesse, Tony's newest black belt and a young man who is much loved by us all, brought everyone to tears with just a few words.
When it was his turn to speak, Tony talked about his history and how he came to train in Brazilian jiu jitsu. Meeting the Gracie family in California, he loved the art they taught, but he said he desired the life they led. The family, the closeness, the teaching, and sense of community. He met his wife, Michelle, here in Houston, and they started a family at home. When he bought his property to open our gym, they started another kind of family. I've been lucky enough to be adopted into that family.
Day after day, we see this family grow. We train along side our mentor's family. All three of his children are skilled martial artists, but more importantly, we are watching them grow into good people. They workout along side the adults, training with respect, and teaching the children with patience and laughter. All you ever need to know about Tony and Michelle you can learn by watching two things - their children, and their students...both their families.
As I've traveled and done things in my life, I've thought a lot about the ways in which people try to leave a mark. Once, I blogged about the graffiti on the cars at Cadillac Ranch and the ancient graffiti of the Anasazi on some rocks in the petrified forest, and how I saw the similarities between them. Both are just someone saying to the world that comes after, "I was here." There are monuments that have been built, buildings that stand, pyramids erected, and art work crafted, all as a way of leaving a legacy that says "I existed. I matter." It's inherent in human beings to have a desire to leave something behind. Some legacies aren't something you can touch, or hold or pin down.
The word legacy itself has several meanings; a gift, something handed down through predecessors, ancient knowledge, legal definitions, and a person who is applying to a school their parents attended. I think, in this case, something handed down is the closest definition, but "a gift" could also be appropriate. Everyone wants to think they have a legacy - something they pass on. For a teacher, all of their students are their legacy - living proof of a life well served and purpose found. For a parent, their children are their legacy - a way to pass on traditions, ideals, values, and skills. Last night, we witnessed every meaning of that word, and I'm so glad that pastor Jim Stern spoke, because he was so right in pointing out that all too often we wait until after someone has died to say how much they mean to us, how much value they have added to our lives. We got a chance to show someone we care very deeply about how much they have brought into our lives, and how much that person has changed who we are.
I got lucky the day I googled "kickboxing in Houston" and chose to walk onto the mats at Urban Jungle. The kardio kickboxing classes kicked my butt in every way, but the people there kept me coming back. I met Tony for the first time during a Saturday circuit class, while I was slamming a sledgehammer into a huge tire, with absolutely no idea what I was doing. I met him when he took the sledgehammer away from me and handed me a baseball bat - so I didn't hurt myself. I looked at Jesse, who was teaching the class, and asked who this man was. "That's Tony," he replied, like that should explain it all. Over time, I saw him working with children, and saw the respect he had for all his students, and the warm way he greeted every single person who walks through their door. When I wanted to try out jiu jitsu for the first time, and was scared to even voice that out loud, he never laughed or tried to discourage me, but said, "just show up." When I felt like I couldn't learn this art, that I was too old, too out of shape, too uncoordinated, he never validated those concerns, he told me to "just keep coming back on the mats." Sometimes he had to physically come reposition my legs or arms, because I couldn't understand how I was supposed to move, and over the years has spent as much time getting me to unlearn wrong movements as he has teaching me the right ones. From the moment he took the sledgehammer out of my hands, to the times he coached me in tournament matches I lost, to watching me try for the millionth time to successfully stand on my head, I have never heard one negative thought, never heard a raised voice, and never been told to give up. I've heard other coaches screaming at their students in competitions, berating them, breaking students down on the mats. If I'd walked into one of their gyms three years ago, I'd be at home now in the evenings, watching television, and not training at all. Tony and Michelle are fabulous at what they do, but it's how they do it that keeps their students coming back, and the culture they have created within their four walls.
Standing in a room filled with as much love and respect as was evidenced last night reconfirmed that I made the right choice by training where I do. Having walked in late to class, because it's what happens every Thursday, because of work, I saw faces I hadn't seen in months. I was greeted with hugs, fist bumps, and an occasional attempt at being choked - because it's how we show love. Being with those people makes it a weird sort of party. And when I was asked by Tony, "how are you?" (because he never says "and why are you late?"), I replied the exact same way I always do, "good - better now that I'm here." It's his legacy - helping us all want to be better than we were yesterday.
As we sat on the mat last night, flanked on every side by our training partners, still wearing the sweat we'd earned during class upstairs just a few minutes before, we listened to the higher ranking belts talk about their own journeys in jiu jitsu and how Tony had influenced their training and their lives in every possible way. Some of them have known him and his family for nearly two decades, have trained under him, raised their children along side him, been a part of his extended family. Every one of them had a story about how he had changed their lives for the better, not just through training, but through teaching them how to be better people. Sometimes he does it by kicking your butt, but mostly through leading by example. We see on a daily basis how he handles family, business, conflict, physical challenges, winning, losing, and a million other things. It makes those around him want to emulate his calm approach and careful observations.
One student after another, many of them now incredibly talented teachers of the art, in their own right, gave their memories of what made Tony special, what made our school a special place to be. Some of these men I have trained with every week, and some I had never met before. They all had experiences in common, and I count them part of my family no matter which category they fit, just as I do my regular training partners. We're all a part of some weird, sometimes dysfunctional, family - we do what families do: we support one another, listen to each other's problems and cheer for their victories, we hug a lot. Because of the way I grew up, hugging had never been comfortable for me, unless it involved small children, but that's changed since stepping onto the mats. It's hard to be at Urban Jungle and not hug a lot. I'd also not cried much since I was a kid, and that's changed recently too. There is no inherent weakness in tears, and we were all reminded of that last night, watching grown men wipe away tears, and then Jesse, Tony's newest black belt and a young man who is much loved by us all, brought everyone to tears with just a few words.
When it was his turn to speak, Tony talked about his history and how he came to train in Brazilian jiu jitsu. Meeting the Gracie family in California, he loved the art they taught, but he said he desired the life they led. The family, the closeness, the teaching, and sense of community. He met his wife, Michelle, here in Houston, and they started a family at home. When he bought his property to open our gym, they started another kind of family. I've been lucky enough to be adopted into that family.
Day after day, we see this family grow. We train along side our mentor's family. All three of his children are skilled martial artists, but more importantly, we are watching them grow into good people. They workout along side the adults, training with respect, and teaching the children with patience and laughter. All you ever need to know about Tony and Michelle you can learn by watching two things - their children, and their students...both their families.
As I've traveled and done things in my life, I've thought a lot about the ways in which people try to leave a mark. Once, I blogged about the graffiti on the cars at Cadillac Ranch and the ancient graffiti of the Anasazi on some rocks in the petrified forest, and how I saw the similarities between them. Both are just someone saying to the world that comes after, "I was here." There are monuments that have been built, buildings that stand, pyramids erected, and art work crafted, all as a way of leaving a legacy that says "I existed. I matter." It's inherent in human beings to have a desire to leave something behind. Some legacies aren't something you can touch, or hold or pin down.
The word legacy itself has several meanings; a gift, something handed down through predecessors, ancient knowledge, legal definitions, and a person who is applying to a school their parents attended. I think, in this case, something handed down is the closest definition, but "a gift" could also be appropriate. Everyone wants to think they have a legacy - something they pass on. For a teacher, all of their students are their legacy - living proof of a life well served and purpose found. For a parent, their children are their legacy - a way to pass on traditions, ideals, values, and skills. Last night, we witnessed every meaning of that word, and I'm so glad that pastor Jim Stern spoke, because he was so right in pointing out that all too often we wait until after someone has died to say how much they mean to us, how much value they have added to our lives. We got a chance to show someone we care very deeply about how much they have brought into our lives, and how much that person has changed who we are.
I got lucky the day I googled "kickboxing in Houston" and chose to walk onto the mats at Urban Jungle. The kardio kickboxing classes kicked my butt in every way, but the people there kept me coming back. I met Tony for the first time during a Saturday circuit class, while I was slamming a sledgehammer into a huge tire, with absolutely no idea what I was doing. I met him when he took the sledgehammer away from me and handed me a baseball bat - so I didn't hurt myself. I looked at Jesse, who was teaching the class, and asked who this man was. "That's Tony," he replied, like that should explain it all. Over time, I saw him working with children, and saw the respect he had for all his students, and the warm way he greeted every single person who walks through their door. When I wanted to try out jiu jitsu for the first time, and was scared to even voice that out loud, he never laughed or tried to discourage me, but said, "just show up." When I felt like I couldn't learn this art, that I was too old, too out of shape, too uncoordinated, he never validated those concerns, he told me to "just keep coming back on the mats." Sometimes he had to physically come reposition my legs or arms, because I couldn't understand how I was supposed to move, and over the years has spent as much time getting me to unlearn wrong movements as he has teaching me the right ones. From the moment he took the sledgehammer out of my hands, to the times he coached me in tournament matches I lost, to watching me try for the millionth time to successfully stand on my head, I have never heard one negative thought, never heard a raised voice, and never been told to give up. I've heard other coaches screaming at their students in competitions, berating them, breaking students down on the mats. If I'd walked into one of their gyms three years ago, I'd be at home now in the evenings, watching television, and not training at all. Tony and Michelle are fabulous at what they do, but it's how they do it that keeps their students coming back, and the culture they have created within their four walls.
Standing in a room filled with as much love and respect as was evidenced last night reconfirmed that I made the right choice by training where I do. Having walked in late to class, because it's what happens every Thursday, because of work, I saw faces I hadn't seen in months. I was greeted with hugs, fist bumps, and an occasional attempt at being choked - because it's how we show love. Being with those people makes it a weird sort of party. And when I was asked by Tony, "how are you?" (because he never says "and why are you late?"), I replied the exact same way I always do, "good - better now that I'm here." It's his legacy - helping us all want to be better than we were yesterday.
Monday, January 2, 2017
Finding Resolution
I start 2017 with my life not looking a whole lot different on the outside than it did a year ago, and yet I am finding that I have changed more on the inside than in many years past. A friend who is celebrating her 50th this year referred to it as intentionally taking a left turn at Albuquerque, and I totally hear that in Bugs Bunny's voice. And if you didn't grow up with Bugs and you don't get that allusion, well, please do yourself a favor and get educated on the classics as soon as possible. Somewhere in the last year or two I finally embraced some things in life, and I'm not as eloquent and haven't mastered the pop cultural allegories as well as my friend, so I referred to it as the freeing "give no more fucks" attitude in life. This doesn't mean I don't care about anyone else or their feelings, it just means I don't care what they think of me. It means I like myself enough, for the first time in my life, to walk away from people who are not good for me. Or to reevaluate some relationships and decide whether to take them for what they are, conventional or not, or end things if I can't live with the status quo. I've ended some friendships, ended some things not so well in some cases, and have decided that my family is truly comprised of people I love and who love me in return, not necessarily those who are bound to me by blood.
So, I've stood firmly for many years now that I won't make New Year's resolutions, because resolutions rarely are able to be able to be held tightly enough to make them stick. Once upon a time, I made many every January and they were all but forgotten by February, and often regrets by November, because I hadn't followed through. Three years ago, I started keeping lists instead, ongoing lists of things I wanted to do, things I wanted to try, books to read, movies to watch, restaurants to try. I kept the lists in a notebook that still travels with me on a daily basis. I take it out often, cross some things off, but I add more things than I can ever cross off that always growing list. Or, set of lists, because I keep several going at one time. And every year, I end the year by writing out all the things I did that year that weren't on the list, the surprises that fell into my life, the moments where I took chances or played impulsively. Those are some of the best moments.
2016 was a fuck of a year. Bad things kept happening, all around me, and I watched more than one person's life crumble a little bit, picked up more than one person from the ground, held hands and hugged people tightly when their hearts were breaking. Somewhere in the final month of this past year, I made my one resolution - that 2017 is going to be a year of flat out giving everything I have to absolutely every effort I make. I will make no excuses. There is no giving up or giving in, only digging in my heels and, well, dammit, I'm going to enjoy every single moment I'm given. Someone, please, remind me I said that. Remind me that, even when things are painful, the pain is necessary and a reminder that I'm alive and still capable of continuing and moving forward. One of my friends, please remind me to not hold my breath when I am afraid. I guess I'm talking about having some grit.
OK...that's enough. I am rereading this and I'm one step away from sounding like a fucking cliché. My point is, as roundabout as it may be, that I'm committing to being fully alive and pushing through to the end of things - good or bad. See, I almost forgot, that resolution has another meaning - the resolution is not a promise, just sorting things out at the end. Seeking resolution, in that sense, is never a bad thing. It's just finishing what we start. And I fully intend to finish every start, and make a new beginning before there's time to blink. Personally, professionally, as a friend, as an activist in many areas, and as a human being.
Happy New Year to all of you, whatever resolutions you are seeking. If you need someone to be your cheerleader, I'm here to encourage and to gently poke you as a reminder to finish what you started. There's really no better feeling. Meanwhile, 2017, I have high expectations out of you - you've got a lot to make up for from your predecessor. And I've got a lot of work to do this year, so let's get busy.
So, I've stood firmly for many years now that I won't make New Year's resolutions, because resolutions rarely are able to be able to be held tightly enough to make them stick. Once upon a time, I made many every January and they were all but forgotten by February, and often regrets by November, because I hadn't followed through. Three years ago, I started keeping lists instead, ongoing lists of things I wanted to do, things I wanted to try, books to read, movies to watch, restaurants to try. I kept the lists in a notebook that still travels with me on a daily basis. I take it out often, cross some things off, but I add more things than I can ever cross off that always growing list. Or, set of lists, because I keep several going at one time. And every year, I end the year by writing out all the things I did that year that weren't on the list, the surprises that fell into my life, the moments where I took chances or played impulsively. Those are some of the best moments.
2016 was a fuck of a year. Bad things kept happening, all around me, and I watched more than one person's life crumble a little bit, picked up more than one person from the ground, held hands and hugged people tightly when their hearts were breaking. Somewhere in the final month of this past year, I made my one resolution - that 2017 is going to be a year of flat out giving everything I have to absolutely every effort I make. I will make no excuses. There is no giving up or giving in, only digging in my heels and, well, dammit, I'm going to enjoy every single moment I'm given. Someone, please, remind me I said that. Remind me that, even when things are painful, the pain is necessary and a reminder that I'm alive and still capable of continuing and moving forward. One of my friends, please remind me to not hold my breath when I am afraid. I guess I'm talking about having some grit.
OK...that's enough. I am rereading this and I'm one step away from sounding like a fucking cliché. My point is, as roundabout as it may be, that I'm committing to being fully alive and pushing through to the end of things - good or bad. See, I almost forgot, that resolution has another meaning - the resolution is not a promise, just sorting things out at the end. Seeking resolution, in that sense, is never a bad thing. It's just finishing what we start. And I fully intend to finish every start, and make a new beginning before there's time to blink. Personally, professionally, as a friend, as an activist in many areas, and as a human being.
Happy New Year to all of you, whatever resolutions you are seeking. If you need someone to be your cheerleader, I'm here to encourage and to gently poke you as a reminder to finish what you started. There's really no better feeling. Meanwhile, 2017, I have high expectations out of you - you've got a lot to make up for from your predecessor. And I've got a lot of work to do this year, so let's get busy.
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