4.28.2015

Don't Pray for Baltimore

The sound of sirens filled the air all afternoon.  When I went to bed, they could still be heard in the distance.  This morning, instead of birds chirping outside my window, one lone siren in the distance could be heard.  Yesterday's late-breaking news of the peaceful protests, violent riots, fires and looting, State of Emergency, National Guard being called in, prayer walks, etc. turned into a sideshow for sidewalk-gawkers, local radio talk shows, major news broadcasts, and even international audiences.  Throughout the afternoon and evening, I received numerous messages inquiring as to my personal safety (which I appreciate, by the way).  Social media became a seemingly endless stream of condolences, petitions for justice, speculations, and calls for prayer for the city from those near and far.
 

Which brings me to my request: Please don't pray for Baltimore... and then just go about your day.  With the unparalleled amount of information that floods our news, advocacy groups, awareness days and ribbons, internet memes, online petitions and movements, and cries of outrage, armchair activism is one of the unfortunate by-products of increased globalization in our generation.  Supporting something has taken the form of clicking, liking, tweeting, sharing, thinking positive thoughts and well-wishing and good vibes, wearing a certain colored shirt on a specified day, wearing a certain colored ribbon on a specified day, being "aware" of a certain thing on a specified day, yadda yadda yadda.  This makes us feel good because we feel like we're making a difference. 

A week later, we're jumping on to the next issue social media decides is sexy.  

Go us.

If this is as far as you care to go to support my city, then please don't bother praying for Baltimore.  If you are truly concerned and moved by what you see, then do something.  Let's not be content to have "positive" feelings about something for five minutes and then jump back into whatever we were doing.  

Does it bother you that young, black men have to consciously think about what they are wearing during certain times of the day when they are out doing their business?  Then start some conversations.  Are you uncomfortable when you consider that lots of excellent law enforcement officers who have a passion to keep people are getting bricks and glass hurled at them?  Then call up their spouse who is sitting at home worried sick about them and ask to come over to be with them.  Do you get uneasy about the fact that these high schoolers feel so undervalued, disrespected, and uncared for that the only way they know how to be heard is to charge into a store with a baseball bat?  Then go introduce yourself to one, root for them during their basketball game, take them out for ice cream, and ask them what it's like being a teenager in 2015.  Are you saddened by the pictures of destruction to homes and communities and neighborhoods?  Look around your own community, grab some friends and gloves, and get to work.  Do you see the hurting faces, tear-stained with injustice?  Then ask yourself, "What injustice am I currently contributing to?" and go do something about it. 

And as you are doing, by all means, ask for God's help.  People change when God changes them.  So let's pray for that.  Not only for safety and inconvenience-free lives.  Not only for peaceful and calm, pristine-looking streets.  Pray that God will radically change hearts and turn lives upside-down.  But don't just pray and go about your day. 

4.24.2015

I Wish My Students Knew...

A week ago, the story of a third grade teacher's assignment to her students, in which she asked them to write about what they wish she knew about them, went viral.  Over the past couple of years innumerable op-ed pieces, political commentaries, and online debates have been written on the subject of effective teaching.  I do not wish to add verbose rhetoric to this cultural conversation, but feel compelled to give voice to the following thoughts...

I wish my students knew that I care far more about their developing character than their ability to catalog instruments into families.

I wish my students knew that it breaks my heart when I notice one of them snicker at innocently chosen words, that could be misconstrued as innuendo, because her smirk reveals an innocence that has been shattered.

I wish my students knew that I hate the testing schedule too.

I wish my students knew that don't assign partners because I revel in their disappointment at not getting to choose, but because I don't want him being the last one picked... again.

I wish my students knew that I purposefully sacrifice a totally in-control class for a slightly more chaotic one that allows them to move and dance around because I know how hard it is to sit still.

I wish my students knew the sadness that overtakes my heart (after the initial, selfish relief) when I hear that one of my particularly challenging students has moved because of the reminder that the instability of their home life is what has created those challenging behaviors.

I wish my students knew that their ability to look me in the eye and express their thoughts is more important than their ability to remember an acronym for EGBDF.

I wish my students knew that I intentionally put my dignity aside in order to show them that it's okay to not take yourself so seriously.

I wish my students knew that earning "brownie points" has nothing to do with actual brownies.

I wish my students knew that, yes, I did in fact notice the boy who has fallen asleep in the corner and I am okay with that.  Really.  We're just playing eighth notes on a maraca, and he didn't eat lunch today or sleep last night.

I wish my students knew that I lose sleep over how to respond when you pretend to choke yourself to get attention.  Or when you use the red marker under your nose to try to convince me that you were punched.  Or when you immediately react to another child accidentally bumping you by punching that child in the stomach.

I wish my students knew that I lose sleep over these things because I legitimately worry that you are going to be arrested by the time you are in middle school due to the violent patterns you are setting for yourself now.  I lose sleep because I am certain that you are setting yourself on this kind of path because this type of violence is normal in your life.

I wish my students knew that I pray for them on my drive to work.

I wish my students knew that I have a "Smile File" that I keep their precious notes (even if I can't read them) and pictures in and these things touch my soul.

I wish that my students knew that yes, of course, it is always okay for you to give me a hug.  Always.

I wish that my students knew that I loathe the myriad of detrimental effects to their generation caused by my generation's obsession with the self-esteem movement.

I wish that my students knew that I love them too much to affirm their distracting and horrendous behavior choices by giving them the attention they crave.  Even though it drives me up the wall.

I wish my students knew that I hate the phrase "Do I have to sit next to her?"

I wish that my students knew that their bodies are more resilient than they think and a hangnail is not a legitimate reason to need to visit the nurse or have a screaming fit.

I wish my students knew that my ultimate goal is not that they can match pitch, keep a steady beat, define "forte," locate a time signature, show me the correct solfege hand signs, or hold a mallet correctly because in a few years, they might not even remember me or anything they did in their elementary school music class.  My goal is that they love music.  That it becomes part of them.  That they want to pursue it on their own.  That they enjoy it.

I wish my students knew that I care about them having a quality education, but I also want them to enjoy being kids with active, creative imaginations.

I wish my students knew that I don't teach primarily because I love music, but because I love them.

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