Converge at the Flag

There are moments in life when several events occur simultaneously that change the way you view the world. Had these events occurred without the context of each other, they likely would not lead to the same outcomes.  But that's not what happened.

On our last day of inservice just before school started, I got a present.  A friend walked by me at lunch saying, "When you get a minute, stop by my room.  I've got something for you.  It might be one of the coolest things I've ever seen."  This guy knows cool, so I figured it was worth my time.

When I stopped by after lunch,  I was presented with a box. "You remember a kid named Seth Akavickis?" I looked at him a minute while going through the mental rolodex, eventually nodding slowly.  He gave me one of those eyebrow-raised, head-tilted looks meaning: Well, open the box.

Inside the box was a folded American flag with an accompanying history of the flag, a personal letter, and a certificate of presentation from 2-217th Infantry Battalion stationed at OB Fenty, Jalalabad, Afghanistan.

Seth had joined the National Guard and been deployed to Afghanistan.  While there he had "space to reflect on [his] past" and had decided to send this type of package to three of his former high school teachers.  I was privileged to be one of them. The letter was filled with kind words.  But what I noticed more than anything was how much he had matured in the couple of years since he had been my student.

Originally I thought I would write a blog post devoted to how honored I was to receive this gift from Seth, how incredibly moving and inspirational it was, how much Seth's voice had grown and matured.  I still hope to do that because it is a stand alone moment in my career.

But before I got there, something else happened.
...

Like many schools, our school celebrates Homecoming Week with dress up days before the weekend festivities. Mostly they are silly and fun.  This year, however, student council was wracked by debate.

At the center of the debate was a seemingly innocuous idea: Red, White and Blue day. The idea is to encourage students to show pride in their country by dressing up in red, white and blue, to fly flags on their vehicles, to wear shirts with flags on them and whatever other things high schoolers think of to express their love for their country. Beautiful.

Except.  (And I hate writing the word, except.) Last year, unbeknownst to administration or many teachers, minority students, dressed patriotically, had been confronted in our halls by other students and verbally attacked. "Why are you wearing that? You aren't American. Go home!"

One of the victims is in student council and shared her story of being verbally abused in the hall.  She spoke of the fear, alienation and helplessness she felt.  She asked that the council recognize that Red, White and Blue Day had created an atmosphere, no matter how well intended, that put her and others like her in danger last year.  She expressed the difficulty of victims raising their voice or "fighting back" given the magnification of marginalization in the moment and beyond.  But she asked student council to reconsider and go in a different direction.As the debate in student council ensued, the student left that meeting in tears.

Over the course of a few days, it became clear that the majority of council members would not support her request. Red, White and Blue Day is going ahead as planned.

Just how widespread these kinds of attacks were remains unclear.  However, after this account, a couple teachers have said that minority students shared similar stories of intimidation with them last year, but these students didn't want their stories shared for fear of retribution.  They had apparently sought out only safety and solace in telling the teachers.

I've been thinking about this a lot.

I do not condemn the council.  They clearly had deliberated intensely, as a representative body should.  Further, my first response to the issue was similar to the majority argument: we cannot allow bullies to dictate what we do.  Giving them that power is giving them too much influence.

Actually, I am much more angry than that.  Livid, really.  I am angry that minority students in my hallways  feel this kind of terror.  I am angry that our students are getting suckered into the gutter. I am angry that this kind of conversation continues to infect this country. I am angry that I didn't make it stop.

I know it isn't that simple.

But it is.

The victimization of an African American peer was insufficient means for a majority of council members to postpone Red, White and Blue Day until the issue could be more thoroughly addressed.  The idea of demonstrating patriotism on Veteran's Day or Memorial Day or any other day would not satisfy the majority. 

There was a failure to understand the minority experience. A resistance to it, in fact.  And the desire to wear particular outfits weighed more important than the recognition of past emotional and psychological attacks and the fact that the decision might create an environment ripe for more attacks.

What else tears me up is that I always support student empowerment, and the whole point of student council is to empower students to make decisions that have real affect on the experiences of students in the halls.  And it worked.  A decision was reached that will affect student lives. 

But as a teacher I sometimes have to tell students when I think they are wrong. 

And I think it was wrong to go ahead with Red, White and Blue Day.  I think it was wrong to not plan a patriotic demonstration on Veteran's Day, Constitution Day, President's Day or Memorial Day instead.  I think it was wrong to place freedom of clothing choice over the safety of fellow students.  I think it was wrong to throw their fellow council member under the bus and not "have her back."   I think it was short sighted and selfish.

I also think the victim is wrong that she is alone.  I think the other victims are wrong for staying quiet.  I think they are wrong to feel alone because of the color of her skin.  I think they are wrong to think they have no allies and no recourse.  They are much more powerful than the bully because they can respond to physical force with soul force.

And I think I was wrong not to speak out against it. I was wrong to try to give equal credence to the two sides.  I was wrong to stay politically correct by not telling anyone they were wrong.

But I can't help but wonder what kind of long term effect these dumb moments have on people.  I can see minority students further disappearing into the background.  I can see students continuing to say stupid and hateful words to each other until they are surrounded by stupid hatred. 

On the other hand, I can see a person standing up and leading. I can see others joining.  I can see students saying stupid things and learning from it. 

What I know I do see is a predominantly white staff wrestling with the reality of some of our minority students for a few afternoons and then going on with business as usual.  As if the issue is over. 

It's not over.  We made that clear.

I can't help but wonder if maybe now I've witnessed those dubious and mysterious words of "white privilege."  The victimization of an African American girl was insufficient cause to disrupt our attire for a day.  A student council president willing to veto the decision was told not to.  A teacher asked to speak to the council didn't say, "Don't do it."  And a week later, most of us have stopped thinking about it. 

...

So, Seth, when you flew that flag in Afghanistan, what did you think? What did you see when the Stars and Stripes rippled in the mountain air against the backdrop of blue skies and snow covered peaks in Afghanistan?  What will you think now when you think of your old teacher?

I know after the last two weeks, I don't deserve a flag.  But I'll be damned now if I don't try to protect it.