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The great kind of insight someone outside the United States can provide. The tough thing when I discuss Trump & Co. with friends is the disbelief and necessity of accepting that a good chunk of the country likes what is happening.
The least you all could do is to refrain from using “unAmerican” to describe the distinctly American things that are going to happen.
I’m fortunate to have been in seventh grade precisely when I was. Every four years in October, my middle school’s seventh-grade social studies classes held an election unit. Students were selected to be presidential, senate, and gubernatorial candidates; there were campaign managers, Secret Service agents, lobbyists, fundraisers, and speech writers.1I got to write my speeches on large cue cards like they use on SNL. It was good-natured, well-constructed, thoughtful, and impactful. Twelve years old was a good time for this, too: we were mature enough to engage with some of the policies but not cynical or set in our ways beyond whatever influence our parents had over us. I don’t recall any personal conflicts. Everyone focused on embodying their roles as best as possible, and I had a tremendous amount of fun.
I don’t remember who the seventh graders elected in 2008, but I know who America elected. It was the first election I felt conscious of, and I can still feel the palpable excitement, the Yes, We Can stickers in the hallways, the sense of progress and accomplishment that came with a relatively young African American man making it to the White House.
My biology teacher that year was a snarky man who was a bit tough on us—my older sister hated him, and my parents weren’t that pleased during conferences—but I got along with him fairly well because I was a know-it-all, especially during that year of my life. He was, in retrospect, definitely gay during a time when that would still be considered taboo in the affluent suburbs of Minneapolis. I can’t speak to his personal politics—Obama’s campaign opposed gay marriage in 2008—but this man felt strongly and optimistically about the result of the election. It so happened that Obama’s inauguration was during biology class, and he canceled the lesson so we could watch it.2To be clear, it’s possible that every teacher did this. I don’t remember. But my teacher made a point of declaring the importance of this event.
I remember being awestruck by the vast crowd gathered on the Mall, Yo-Yo Ma playing on stage, and a general sense of wonderment, pomp, and import surrounding the proceedings.
Today—as this post is published—will mark the second inauguration of a gaudy man who is an affront to the office he holds. He lacks the care, professionalism, solemnity, strength, tact, or humanity one should maintain to be a respected president. Backed by the money of ass-kissing CEOs and surrounded by incompetent and ill-experienced hangers-on, he’ll once again ascend to a reality show version of the presidency that suits his impressions from television. For every thoughtful moment from the Obama and Biden inaugurations that celebrated the beauty, diversity, and progress of America, we’ll see a funhouse mirror version worthy of a man who has no resolution to problems beyond grandstanding and ill-begotten money.
I have no clue whether the last three elections resulted in units for seventh graders in my old middle school. I’d like to believe that the teachers there managed to run something valuable despite the troubling and divisive rhetoric, laying a foundation for a future generation to have some hope of pushing past whatever comes after the next four years. But it’s a shame that they’ll be subjected to this flashy and distasteful inauguration that relies on a foundation of hate and disgust rather than well-earned pride and hope for the future.
The oldest posts on this blog comprise a three–part series I wrote in fervor after the 2016 election. I was a college student who couldn’t drink alcohol yet but had learned a tremendous amount about the world while working as a residence advisor. I empathized with the experiences of others with incomprehensibly different life stories. I saw the fear, frustration, and numbness that came over people I loved and cared about. It was awful.
I wrote the third part two days after that election, closing in part with this naive statement of hope:
So as I contemplate the culture we have become entrenched in, I truly hope that Trump can work to fix some of the major damage he has done. I hope that the hateful speech grinds to a halt and that he can focus on legitimate policies which can hopefully be beneficial to many Americans. While it will be a struggle for so many who are hurt by the shift in mood we are faced with, I hope we can make strides in mending our interactions, discourse and culture.
Nothing has changed. We’ve spent eight years watching the brazenness of hate increase. Trump and his crew of self-serving, power-thirsty thugs that he will leave in his wake have no incentive to change their ways, to improve anything except for themselves. It didn’t happen eight years ago, and it sure as hell won’t happen now.
The only option is to resoundingly rebuke his rhetoric at the polls. Among many other reasons, that’s why I voted for Kamala Harris on Saturday during Connecticut’s early voting period. Unlike Trump and his ilk, this isn’t about retribution or getting back at anyone. It’s about determining the best choice for what America is supposed to represent. It’s about having the mental fortitude to accept that nothing will ever be perfect, but that doesn’t mean we should let it deteriorate beyond recognition. It is a straightforward choice between a felon with no moral boundaries and a politician similar to most of the others; importantly, someone who respects our institutions and will work to preserve them.
We live in a goddamn society, and it takes individual effort to preserve it.
Last fall I read The Great School Rethink by Frederick Hess, who works with the conservative-leaning American Enterprise Institute. He focuses largely on education policy initiatives, many of which might be familiar: school choice, assessments, funding distribution, and curriculum adoption, among others. While I find these topics and the debates around them interesting, my main takeaway from reading this book was broader. It reminded me that a person is not static, and when we talk with someone we have to focus more on the thoughts they’re presenting and not conflate that with our notions of who the person is when taken as a sum of their parts.
Continue reading ““The Great School Rethink” and Assessing Ideas”In the discourse among citizens, abortion is nearly an undebatable issue. It’s a hill to die on, where opposing views argue across each other about whose values are more important: bodily autonomy, or fetal life. These sides have moved further away from each other. When I was first of an age to even consider the ramifications of abortion, I commonly heard phrases like “pro-life with exceptions.” With the impending overturn of Roe v. Wade, it seems the anti-abortion crowd is taking the ball and sprinting the other way. Whatever common ground existed has rapidly evaporated.
Continue reading “Fear and Power”Competition is a slippery idea. In both professional and casual interactions, people often walk a fine line when showing a desire to compete. It can be fun and humorous to have a friendly intensity, but there’s always a tipping point where it becomes uncomfortable for those involved. Competition is one of the most natural things in the world, but needing to play out the act of competition in society muddies the waters.
Continue reading “The Spirit of Competition”As part of a new role at work, I’ve been researching aspects of funding for education in the United States. A recurring phrase is evidence-based interactions. I’m going to explore some of the facets of this idea, from its definitions and origins, to potential ramifications of its increasing usage in education.
This post is a placeholder for those future investigations. The educational landscape is of interest to many people, and learning about some of the guiding tenets can help explain a lot of the situations states are finding themselves in. I’m excited to be diving in.
Although this is admittedly a privileged position to be in, the 2020 election snuck up on me. I got my mail-in ballot for California, but let it sit on my desk. I knew inside would be races for positions with which I was unfamiliar, having only lived in San Diego for a couple years and not knowing what the political environment was on the local level. In addition, the California Voter Information Guide let me know there would be 11 propositions that were difficult to parse, and had at least 4 pages each of thorough explanation and official arguments for and against them.
Feeling a little overwhelmed by the voting that did not involve the presidential race (and that presidential race being uncertain nationwide, despite me knowing who I would vote for), the ballot remained on my desk for two weeks. It wasn’t until a podcast introduction from ATP that it finally sunk in that the election was coming up incredibly fast, and I needed to get my vote in. So I sat down this past Thursday, and over the course of a couple hours researched and made decisions on the various candidates and measures filling my ballot.
With that done, I figured it was time to take a break from my self-indulgent series on text adventures, and focus on a particularly sticky election. I have no guess as to how it will turn out. Other people have summarized some of the main possible outcomes quite well, so I feel no need to do that. And since I am no longer working in a college dorm, I feel disconnected from the effects this nation’s politics have on people. I’m stuck between the privileged spot of wanting to simply focus on my daily work, and a deep discomfort for what precedent the past 4 years have set, and what the next 4 years could mean for our country.
What has been most frustrating is the lack of respect for our country, and a disagreement in what it stands for. We’ve set up a system where people refuse to change it (or actively try to hamstring it) because that’s the only way for them to maintain power. We’ve also set up a system where discussions about the system, ignoring the specific politics of the day, seem nearly impossible to navigate. So many cling to the wisdom of Founding Fathers without recognizing that a large part of what they included was the ability to adapt and change within the system. Yet these avenues seem cut off from us until massive change is created.
It’s a frustrating time, and I am discouraged by the thought of the presidential election. I find it unlikely that a transfer (or maintaining) of power will go smoothly, because the conversations are always about the wrong thing. It’s discouraging that reality has become inconsequential, and I’m not sure where my spot is in what the next few months will bring.
I’m sure this week will be a multiple-post week, at the expense of making any progress on NaNoWriMo. But this is a time for focusing on something much bigger than a certain creative itch, because I believe there’s much more at stake. It may be true that all the well-meaning people won’t be enough due to nefarious actors outside our control, but I hope we can start moving in a better direction.