I am a teacher, albeit a retired one. In these times, I think I am glad to be retired though I miss much of what inspired me to become an educator. I do NOT miss “Shelter in place” drills. I do NOT miss schools being unsafe, needing locked doors. I do NOT miss educators being forced to teach subjects rather than children; to be afraid to waste one minute of time on just having fun, laughing, sitting under a tree a just talking. I was lucky enough to teach in the golden age of public education and I wonder if it can be brought back.
I am so thankful that my years of teaching enabled me to get out of my bubble (we all have them), and get to know people who were different from me. I was raised catholic in a very ethnic steel town. Our town, not too unlike Pittsburgh, had neighborhoods: Italian, Polish and Irish catholic’; African American; Jewish, and of course, the white anglo saxon protestants. I went to the Italian Catholic elementary school, and so there was that bubble. Then the high school merged us and my two besties were Irish Catholic. Then I went to college smack in the middle of Amish country, and all of my new friends were white, anglo saxon protestants. I was as fascinated with their lives as they were with mine. I remain as close to them today as I am to my ethnic HS friends. Then I moved to CO, wherein I met my BFF Randi who had grown up on Long Island, a Jewish girl. We often laughed together about how we inadvertently moved to one of the most white bread cities in the country. We went out one year in the early seventies to find a Menorah for her and we were stunned that the store clerk (a Hallmark store) had no clue what it was. The store had none. Today, I miss her more. I miss being able to talk with her, about this bigotry, what we can do for our students to make sure their futures do not see this kind of hate induced violence.
We found comfort in each others’ understanding of the positive power as well as the pitfalls of ethnic identity. Where she came of age, there were many Italians and where I grew up there was a large Jewish community. We both grew up experiencing the food, the culture of ethnic groups, our own and others. We were both open to new experiences, new people, different people. We laughed when some of the people with whom we taught referred to me as EYE-talian, and that many looked at her as if she were in an exotic creature. Sadly, she passed long before she should have, in her forties. But we had had many talks about Judaism, Catholicism, and ethnic/cultural values.
I was also fortunate to become close friends with many who were from the Mexican American backgrounds. We often talked about how similar my Italian American family culture was to the Mexican American family culture. We also shared, as I did with Randi, the pain of false generalizations based on nothing more than mafia movies, or gang portrayals. One of my close colleagues in my last years of teaching was an African American woman. Even though we have both retired, we remain in touch. I learned so much from her, about what it was like for someone my age to have grown up in the segregated south.
All of these people influenced and enriched my life along with the many students of many cultures I have taught over the years. It is still hard for me, at age 73, to understand the bigots, the fear mongering and the violence it precipitates. I want to say to the fearful ones who hide their fear with violence, how sad it is that their lives are so uninspired, that they have missed out on so much by closing themselves off from the joy of knowing so many people whose lives, though so different from mine when they intersect, enrich.
Finally, yesterday I was fortunate enough to meet up with one of my former students (who I taught when he was in 5th grade). He is now a priest and a prolific writer. He was doing a talk at a local abbey based on his newest book:“Building a Bridge: How the catholic church and the LGBTQ community can enter a relationship of respect, compassion and sensitivity.”
Though I no longer practice any religion, there are parts of my childhood immersion into catholicism I hold very dear, mainly the Social Justice parts. I love that this priest, once a smiling, loving child I knew, is a social justice warrior, speaking out for many communities who have been treated badly, ignored, from the LGBT community to the migrant communities worldwide. He is a Jesuit and their mission has always bent toward social justice. As I drove into the abbey yesterday, there were about 10 protestors, who consider what Father Martin is doing to be sinful and wrong. These are those extremely conservative catholics, the opus dei ilk, who want to take us back to the dark ages. Then as I drove home, listening to MSNBC on the radio, I heard the sad news of another mass shooting, violence based on hatred of the “other”, based on a perverted view intertwining a hate for Jews with a hate for the migrants. It sickened me. Sigh.
I was teaching, a first year teacher, in 1968 when Martin Luther King, Jr was assassinated, when Bobby Kennedy was assassinated. Here I was at age 22, facing young children trying to explain to them how hate and bigotry work to undermine love and acceptance. I thought those would be the worst things I would have to explain to children. Alas, I was teaching when Tim McVeigh blew up the Oklahoma building. I was teaching, less than 50 miles south, when Columbine happened. I was substituting when Sandy Hook happened. I no longer teach or even sub. I am sad for the many ways teachers have to explain shooter “drills”; practice silent hiding in fear, have to deal with the aftermath of real violence in communities. I am sickened that people cannot allow the LGBTQ community to live in peace. I am distraught that people that should know better, people whose own grandparents were immigrants, are now being told to FEAR refugees. I am sickened that the fear mongers are reaching the fringe, the mentally ill and spurring them to violence.
I am thankful that there are many here at Daily Kos, who can inspire and explain, and make sure we are informed. I am thankful for people like Father James Martin who are openly and publicly advocating for communities that have been targeted by the violent, the haters, the greedy. I am thankful that teaching allowed me to learn so much from so many. I weep today for the people of The Tree of Life community; for the families of the two innocent African Americans who were killed by a hate filled bigot; for the millions of hungry frightened refugees yearning for a safe life for their children; for the haters among us, so fearful, so bigoted they have no joy in life. I hope we can all on November 6th, make sure a positive change begins.