Monday, February 07, 2011

As little as I've been posting (none since August!), I'm guessing I've lost the majority of my readership. Perhaps, that's good. It used to exhaust me when I could count on over a 100 people reading my posts, back when I lived in Germany. I had to constantly think about all the different readers and who I might offend with each little comment. Yet, I have to realize something else has been lost, because now, as I suddenly feel re-inspired to write, I can't help but realize my words are more than likely going off into cyberspace emptiness where a couple individuals will likely stumble on my page, but there are few too concerned.

Yet, inside me lately, I've felt my "narrator voice" turning back on, that is to say the inner monologue that I have at times kept narrating my experiences for some outer audience... in other words, what has made blogging possible in the past. And now I have a few things to say. Whereas for so long, I was simply deep in the murky mud of teaching, now, as my time in Louisiana comes to end, I feel myself suddenly better able to reflect on my experiences and to grab a few bites of wisdom here and there.

So here are some things, I've learned...

First off, I am incredibly arrogant (perhaps it's good that not many will read this blog). Kids have really taught me this.

Secondly, parents have the scariest jobs in the world.

Thirdly, and the one I've been thinking about most lately, pacifism is... incredibly audacious. I talked so much about pacifism in college and how I was an "almost pacifist" back then, while attending the most wonderful anabaptist college. But I didn't understand it at all. I couldn't have, because I had never yet really experienced violence. Sure I'd listened to stories and witnessed the survivors of violence. I understood genocide occurred (which is what made me only almost a pacifist), but I positively did not understand violence. I did not know how a violent world changes the psyche of everyone around. I simply could not understand violence or understand the simple craziness of non-violence.

Which is why I am more committed to nonviolence and pacifism today than I ever could have dreamed of in college.

Suddenly, I've seen violence, and I have sobbed over violence, and I've experienced fear. Now let me clarify that many, many individuals in this world, including sadly many of my students, experience far worse violence and unimaginable fear. Those surviving wars know far, far more on this subject than I can ever imagine. Yet, even my taste of this life has completely shaken me.

[On a side note: I realize this is the point in which you want to know the specifics about my experiences. Stop and realize that I cannot tell you. Can you trust me? It's been tough, and sometimes things happen in elementary schools that we would never otherwise imagine. Kids grow up fast. Kids, who are victims, often become perpetrators. But they're still kids--kids who deserve a childhood and a future. So do not let a single word on this subject alter your perception that every child can be successful and deserves the chance at a high quality education and teachers who love them. They are, after all, still children. Nevertheless, it comes as a shock for many of us with comparatively innocent backgrounds.]

When violence is assumed the norm, nobody feels safe and all must fight. They feel they must fight for every item they needs (pencils, chicken nuggets, girls, etc.) and for their pride (their place in line, their mamas, somebody who made a face at them). It becomes a "fight better or be beaten" society. Even teachers sometimes implicitly accept this mindset with phrases like, "I hope so-and-so hits back, just to show him!" I am fully guilty in this respect. Many times I've wished the kids would gang up on the bullies to show them what it felt like to be bullied, what it felt like to be afraid. There is nothing Christ-like in this desire. It has not been difficult to discover my angry, retributive side in this job.

Lately, I've begun reading Gandhi's autobiography, and his discussion on the Sermon on the Mount has really struck me as incredible. I simply had not realized how dangerous pacifism was until my teaching experience. In this world of violence, to not fight back, even for these kids could really mean getting beat up... or perhaps worse. Yet, what hope is there for the bully except that he be moved to guilt over the senselessness of his actions? Will being "ganged up on" like I sometimes retributively wish actually teach him anything, except to fear his actions and make sure he's stealthier in his bullying? If you want to end bullying, you must expose the bully's weakness--the fact that the bully beats even one who does nothing but show love to him. Of course, I realize there are sociopaths in the world, but since I am not God and cannot determine for sure who is forever beyond the point of experiencing compassion or guilt, I must continue to give each person a second chance... and third chance... and four hundred ninetieth chance...

What kind of teacher would I be to tell my kids to love their enemies and turn their cheeks? To tell them to allow themselves to be beat up? I don't know. I haven't quite said that, but I'm beginning to realize that perhaps the only way to stop the chain of violence is through a bit of insane, radical nonviolence, and I certainly believe this applies to adults as well. I don't know what this means at a national and international level, and I don't know what the right response to genocide ever is. I'm not ready to generalize my experiences that broadly, but I will say that I see nonviolence as both more insane and more powerful than I ever imagined. I am convinced, if any movement will ever truly change the world for better, it will have to be a nonviolent movement. All others... will, at best, only be temporary bandages on gaping wounds, even if occasionally necessary.