Hooray! It's Memorial Day weekend which means not only a three day weekend, but it means that as a teacher and a mom summer break is clearly within my grasp. So far, this weekend has been pretty awesome. I went to the state championship soccer game yesterday, where my team did not win but they played hard, and they left everything they had on the field. It wasn't the ending I wanted, but it was the game both teams deserved. Today I have plans to hop in my kayak with my husband and daughter and see what we can find. I also hope to explore some new bike trails up in Bentonville before it is all said and done. I am on a mission to catch up on this X-Men thing so I can see the new movie. I watched the first one last night and I was impressed. Who knows, maybe we'll have a movie marathon tonight after throwing some burgers on the grill and get all caught up. None of this is revolutionary or exciting, but I am going to love every minute! You might be thinking, okay, big deal, sounds like a typical Memorial Day holiday to me, and you would be right. It sounds like the perfect, cliche, Memorial Day holiday. I have been thinking about that as I have seen the posts on Facebook of random solider pictures thanking our armed forces for all they do. Is this what it has come to? Re-posting or sharing a picture to thank people for sacrificing for our country before we head to Wal-Mart to buy sunscreen and hamburger fixin's? I sat thinking about how much the military has influenced my life. This blog is about the things that I cherish--I know that I cherish being an American, and I cherish the sacarfices so many have made to make my wonderful life possible.
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| My grandpa Eversman. |
Both of my grandfathers fought in World War II. This act of valor greatly influenced who they were as men, the honor they felt, the horror they must have witnessed as young men, the way it must have influenced everything in their lives. My dad was in the Coast Guard. Although he rarely talks about his service, I know he is proud of it. One of my favorite moments at my son's high school graduation was the recognition of the veterans, when my dad proudly stood when all the veterans in the audience were recognized and thanked. Thank you dad for living as a role model of dignity and ingenuity. I am blessed to be influenced by a man who is always willing to serve.
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| Austen and mom and dad after graduation |
Many teachers I know have been in the military service. In fact, one very influential teacher in my life, who guided me through the Northwest Arkansas Writing Project, was a service woman, along with another dear friend who was in my writing response group that summer. I am not only in awe of their service, but of their dignity and humility. I am proud to know them and I know that part of what makes them such amazing people is the fact that they were both willing to sacrifice and to do so without ever asking for a dang thing in return. Thank you Jamie Highfill and Vance Pitman for teaching me and sharing with me and serving our country. I love you both and am so proud to call you my friends and mentors and heroes.
One of the most challenging things for me as a teacher has been watching my students that go into the military. I am selfishly afraid for them. I want the best for them. I love them and am humbled and honored by their service. Each year I have taught I have seen some of my brightest students choose the military. This is truly humbling. Each of these students have had options, and each has been determined to serve. Some of them have shared with me family histories of service. Some of them have talked to me about their desire to go on to higher education, and recognize this service as a path to a better life. All of them had options, and all, in the end, are honorable and deserving of my gratitude. If you are reading this, I hope you will send a prayer for my students who are currently serving and recognize and be thankful for their willingness to dedicate their young lives to the sanctity and peace we are all enjoying (i.e., my kayak ride or my cookout this afternoon). I love you and am honored to learn about service and sacrifice from you.
One of the most humbling events of my teaching career was two years ago when one young man came into my room who I had taught in my first year. He was in his military uniform and I almost didn't recognize him. He had been a student very dear to my heart. My favorite kinds of kids to teach are the really smart ones who like to push a teachers buttons. That was Brandon to a T! He spent more time than I would have liked in ISS and principal enforced vacation days, but that never stopped him from coming to my room upon his return to discuss what he had read on his, "days off" and challenging me. He knew I loved him. When he told me he was going into the military, I thought, "Oh my goodness, how will this kid survive?" When he showed up at my door way, dressed in his uniform a couple of years later my heart nearly exploded. His posture was perfect, his manners were impeccable, and as I threw my arms around him to hug him, he was solid as a rock. His hair was short and his smile was a little slower to emerge, but it was still there. He waited until my class got out for lunch, and we sat and talked. He had been in Afghanistan. He didn't want to talk about any of the things he had seen, he just let me know that he had seen a lot. Instead, he shared with me that he had been having a lot of nightmares. He lived near the train tracks by our downtown area. He said some nights the trains would go by and he would wake up in a cold sweat, needing his gun, knowing he was under attack. He talked to me about how often he found himself wanting to cry or feeling really angry and confused. I did not know what to do. I told him he needed to get help. He said he figured he could handle it. I have never forgotten that conversation. I was terrified for him and I could not even imagine what things must have been like in his head. I told him to keep in touch. I know that since that time, he moved away and has received treatment for PTSD. He has met a girl and is doing great. I cannot express to you how any of this makes me feel. I will tell you that I feel like as a teacher, I do have a duty to help my students know how lucky we are, how incredible it is that out of the 500 people that graduate with them, a very small percentage of them are willing to sacrifice their futures for the greater good of all. For all of the amazing men and women who have served, I know there is a price that you have paid, and I know I will never be able to comprehend it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
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| My students and I meeting Tim O'Brien-author of The Things They Carried |
One of my favorite things to teach is one of the most beautiful pieces of language we have. It is
The Declaration of Independence. Often, at the beginning, my students whine and complain. I spend a lot of time in my classroom reading and analyzing and appreciating the founding documents. My students often times struggle with the complexity of the language, and even more with the complexity of the ideas. But we sit there, day in and day out, taking it apart, making sure we comprehend what these documents say, not only on the page, but what they say about who we are. Because America is a nation founded on ideals so magnificent they can never be fully realized. And that is what makes us great. After we struggle to comprehend the document, my students have a Socratic discussion about the value of reading and comprehending these texts. Some of them advocate for just being given a translation to modern language (readily available via google). They are quickly silenced by the majority. I had an ESL student express it best when he valiantly explained the importance of the struggle to understand. If we are not willing to struggle to understand who we are, who will stop the people who do understand it from changing it? That is why I am so thankful for all the people in my life who have been willing to struggle and to sacrifice for these ideals that are beyond comprehension. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
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