Where is God in all this?

Sigh.

So.

My first thought is related to Night, Elie Wiesel’s memoir of his time spent in death camps during the Holocaust.

In section 4 of the book, there are two hangings. The first man who is hanged stole something. He is proud and fearless as he marches toward the gallows. The prisoners think little of the hanging and just want to get it over with so they can eat dinner. The hanging is ended by all the prisoners marching past the dead man's body and then onward to soup. No one, in the book, questions where God is when that man is hanged.

The second hanging is a child—10, 11, 12 years old. Young. He, along with his master, were caught stockpiling weapons for what can be assumed was a plan to overthrow the Nazis at the camp. When the child is marched to the gallows, he is shaking. Scared. Crying. 

So are all the prisoners who are forced to watch the hanging. They don’t want dinner afterwards. They are appalled, broken, let down both by the loss of hope (for there will be no uprising) and let down by yet another reminder that life sucks and there is no divine intervention on behalf of the small, the meek, the justice-seeking.

The chapter ends when Elie heard someone behind him say

"For God's sake, where is God?"

 

And from within [himself], [Elie] heard a voice answer:

"Where He is? This is where—hanging here from this gal-

lows."

 

At this moment, the boy was not yet dead--he was too small for the hanging to be effective--but was almost there.

Which can be interpreted a few ways.

One, God is *almost* dead to Elie.

Two, God is found in the small, the meek, the rebellious justice seekers.

So, why does God let this happen? That’s a great question. One only she or he has the answer to. I definitely don’t.

But we would be foolish to say God is not present--God is everywhere. 

I see God in the activists. In the fighters. In the protestors. And, yes, even in some of the looters. I see God active and moving in the vast expanse of white people who are finally fucking learning what their privilege is and being humble enough to learn how to use their voices to amplify the generations of cries and screams of their brothers and sisters of color.

I see God in the fragile, breaking spaces. The hurt, aching people. The tense, pregnant moments ready to deliver change.

I also think of a post on the Progressive Methodist Facebook group I’m a part of. Sure, Jesus turned tables at the temple when the poor were being played and upcharged for their annual sacrificial lambs and doves. We're all familiar with that and should emulate that expression of righteous anger and destruction.

But what many aren’t thinking about is the 10 plagues. Moses tried and tried to liberate his people from Pharaoh, but Pharaoh’s hard, hard heart just wouldn’t break. So God intervened. Sent the plagues. And it took every single plague to eventually break Pharaoh, and even then--even after his own first born child died—he STILL chased after the Israelites into the sea.

Maybe God’s just waiting until our pharaoh’s last straw to intervene in miraculous ways. Maybe God's waiting for the issue of racism, prejudice, systemic injustice to reach closer to home for the rich, straight, white men in charge. 

Or maybe black activists and white pocketbooks and the minority vote are meant to be the miracle.

It will never be the same.

I remember January. I remember returning to the classroom and watching CNN 10 first thing in the morning with my journalism class. I remember learning about the "Novel Corona Virus." I remember thinking "Wow, that's crazy. I hope China gets along alright."

I remember hearing a case had popped up in Seattle. A case had popped up in Arizona. I thought nothing of it. It's just like the flu, right?

The semester continued. Spring break came, as did the camping trip spent with my husband and two friends. Then the news came--our school district's governing board would be discussing closing the schools for two weeks after spring break, essentially quarantining all students and staff and providing online learning because who knows where everyone went for spring break.

The vote passed. We had three days to prepare our new unit for students to learn online.

We moved to online learning.

Later, the board met again. This time, the vote was to complete the 2019-2020 school year online. The ayes had it.

That.

That was the moment I realized life for the next year or two (at least until a vaccine came out) would never be the same. Weekly care-free rendezvous to Target would no longer be the norm. Grocery shopping once a week? Also not the norm. Mask-free breathing? No longer. Teaching students face to face? Nope.

Life, work life, home life, relaxed life, would no longer be the same.

"Nor should it," many cried, pointing out that COVID hospitalization rates are closely correlated with one's income. People of color, people who work in the service industry, people who hold jobs in healthcare yet do not make bank for their positions--these are the people who are getting sick. Not to mention, many who are low income are also more likely to have underlying health issues.

And then, just as many states decided it was time to go back to "normal..."

Shootings by armed citizens in social spaces.

George Floyd.

Breonna Taylor.

Ahmaud Arbery.

Sean Reed.

Tony McDade.

Black folks disproportionately dying at the hands of police officers.

Not only was it too early to return to "normal," health wise as Arizona hospitals receive the highest number of COVID patients yet, the "normal" officials want to return to is subjugation by race, class and gender.

We need a new normal.

We need protests, lootings, and attention. 

We need social change.

We need equity.

We need affirmative action.

We need government by the people, for the people, representing the race, creed, gender, religion of the people.

It's time for a government overthrow. Sure, the ballot is coming up in November, but if that doesn't work (and I'd bet money it won't work), it's time for something else.

Book Review: The Coddling of the American Mind

One of my coworkers initially recommended this book to our PLC (professional learning community, for those of you who are unfamiliar with teacher lingo). Eager to have SOMETHING to add during our PLC meeting (which often revolves around discussions of literature, instructional methods, and writing skills), I put a hold on it at the Phoenix Public Library.

The main idea of "The Coddling of the American Mind: How Good Intentions and Bad Ideas are Setting Up A Generation For Failure" is this: American children are less prepared to handle the duties and responsibilities of being an adult, including (but not limited to!)

• Handling conflict
• Handling hurt feelings
• Handling social interactions
• Handling stressful situations

Citing qualitative and quantitative studies, authors Lukianoff and Haidt outline three great "untruths:" What doesn't kill you makes you weaker, always trust your feelings, life is a battle between good people and evil people. Children born after 1997 are likely to have learned and internalized these untruths based on how they were raised, leading to their inability to handle "adulthood."

Some of the motifs of the book include safe spaces, as students born after 1997 spend much time seeking safety and safe spaces rather than attempting to grow in antifragility on college campuses; anxiety and depression, as self-reported instances of psychological disorders have risen (Lukianoff and Haidt 157); and the role of society (parents included!) in making their children this way.

It certainly is not a beachy read. It isn't even a pool-side read. It most DEFINITELY is not an "I'm-in-bed-trying-to-fall-asleep" read. This book is best read when you are awake, alert, and have a notebook handy for note taking. I would actually suggest purchasing a copy so you can write in its margins.

Dear Uncle Bob,

It took my breath away yesterday when my dad texted me and told me you passed away.

It was so sudden. I knew you were on the older side (heck, everyone at The Chapter was old enough to be one of my parents) but I never would have imagined you would have passed away before my wedding.

Before the news, I'd been contemplating adding you and Margaret to the A-List, as you were two of my only coworkers who, in my past life, made a desk job...bearable.

Thanks for humoring my selfie the first time I left ACNSC in March 2014.

I will never forget the year and a half when I shared an office with you. Well, it was more like a copy room with a desk (yours) and a shelving unit/counter space turned into a desk-like structure (mine).

In between our strenuous spurts of work, we spent hours discussing travel, adding to our own blogs (mine for work--most of the time, yours for fun). You told me about travels to England during the holidays and summer/fall motorcycle trips across the United States.

You are the first person I ever met who made conventionally "strange" places into staple stops on your journeys--places like universities and cemeteries. In sharing this, you awakened a love of travel within myself that I had never sensed before.

When I left my part time position at The Chapter so I could focus on school, I dreaded that I would not get to see you on a weekly basis. When you and Margarette came to take me out to Lolo's for lunch between classes one day in the fall semester my senior, I was SO EXCITED to see you two, and couldn't believe how nothing had seemed to change.

Ultimately, I returned to The Chapter full time after graduating, and was disappointed that I was given my own office instead of being "forced" to share a space with you again. Nevertheless, you made sure to come and visit my coat-closet office every day during that bleak hour after lunch when my food was digesting and my brain was thinking about travel--and we talked, and talked, and talked (which was awful for productivity and everyone knew it, but hey--I'm pretty sure a study somewhere says that strong workplace relationships foster positive feelings toward work, so we were doing that!)

Finally, it was after you were "let go" around Christmas 2015 that I realized how unfulfilling a desk job truly was--how spending hours staring at a computer screen in an office was not taking me where I wanted to go in life. My dreaming conspirator, Diet Coke in hand, had left me--and I was left with four cold, white walls, two computer monitors, and nobody to laugh with.

Life has certainly changed a lot since then. I'm a teacher, and I finally feel fulfilled by my job. I think the last time I saw you was on an afternoon when I dropped in to visit all our old coworkers, and you were surprisingly there, dropping off some TSS paperwork for your contract job you still held with them.

I want to say "I wish I kept in touch," or "I wish I had lunch with you and Margarette more often" but I also know if you were here, you would scoff and say something like "Bygones are bygones. Go take a road trip or something."

Thank you for being my work dad. It was an honor sharing an office and tales of adventure with you.

Rest in peace.

Thoughts on Education

A new teacher at my school quit this week. At the staff meeting last Friday, we REJOICED because he was actually fully certified to teach AND had years of experience...then this week, he quit.

I'm sure we could all speculate as to why he left (maybe he was already burned out, maybe he held unrealistic expectations, maybe he was dealing with extraneous issues that bled into his work life...) but this teacher's departure is just ONE symptom of a much larger issue.

Teachers are exiting the profession in droves, leaving students in classrooms with a different sub every day, under-qualified long term substitutes ill equipped to teach algebra or biology, or emergency or intern certified teachers trying to find their footing while balancing graduate school or certification courses.

Granted, I have very few reserves against throwing an emergency certified teacher or intern certified teacher in a classroom when the only other option is a substitute teacher. (Full disclosure, I am an intern certified teacher.) However, in the long run, putting untrained and in-training teachers in the classroom is a band-aid solution for the gaping wound that is the teacher shortage faced in America, let alone Arizona.


Alternate preparation programs like Teach for America, New York City Teaching Fellows and TNTP Teaching Fellows are great, but teachers don't always stay in the classroom after their commitment expires. Many find the pay unacceptable and leave. Many see bigger and brighter things in their future (like med or law school) and leave. Many face burnout within two years due to a lack of school support--and they leave.

So what is the answer? That's a trick question.

There isn't one answer. There is a slew of answers. The real question is "Which solutions work best together and get at the true root of the issue?

For starters...

Pay us. Pay public school teachers more. We shouldn't have to find a second or summer job to help us pay a $1200/month mortgage payment when school isn't in session.

Support us. Have our backs when it comes to finicky parents. Do what it takes to sustain a positive workplace environment--be that monthly potlucks, staff spirit weeks, or exciting professional developments. Better yet, allow public school teachers to grow by sending us to intriguing professional developments and providing subs for our classes.

Stock our classrooms. Make sure the Senior English teachers don't have to arm wrestle over who gets to borrow and read the class set of The Bell Jar with their kids. Make sure there are enough textbooks to go around. Better yet, stock public schools with textbooks that are up to date and include Obama's presidency--not the textbooks I used in high school.

Granted, a lot of this goes back to money. In fact, all of this--teacher pay, professional development, classroom supplies--is linked to money. So perhaps the issue truly stems back to, you guessed it, politics.

In Arizona, I'm sure teachers would be elated to receive the same pay raise Governor Doug Ducey gave to many of his staff in 2017, while teachers received approximately a 1% raise.

I am so blessed to say that my district is supportive. We have an education association representative who relentlessly requests raises for teachers. Through my district, I have received training, room and board for the Advanced Placement class I teach, and we have more than a modest amount of books available to read with our students, either on campus or via inter-district loan system. I'm not saying my district is perfect, but I am certainly grateful Teach for America placed me here. I intend to stay much longer than my two year commitment--but what about all of the teachers who don't feel as blessed as I do?

I am one teacher who plans to stay in the classroom for a long time. What can be done to replicate me?