I generally avoid writing about the Middle East, because what is happening there really makes me sad. Like many American Jews, I am pro-Israel (although not especially fond of the country's current ultra-conservative government), and I am in favor of a Two-State Solution. But these days, there are fewer people who hold out much hope that Israeli Jews and Palestinians can ever find a path to peace. I understand that each side in the conflict has its own narratives about why peace is so elusive, but rather than allowing this post to devolve into blame and recrimination, I want to pay tribute to someone who tried to make a difference... but was not allowed to do so.
I don't think I ever met Richard Lakin in person, but I certainly knew his work. He and I exchanged messages on Twitter a few times, usually about educational issues (he opposed endless high-stakes tests, and wanted to see the classroom once again be a place for critical thinking, where a child's curiosity was encouraged). He was a passionate advocate for teachers, and he believed that a good education could be life-changing, especially for kids from impoverished backgrounds. He wrote a beautiful book called "Teaching as an Act of Love," and even after retiring from being a high school principal, he continued to tutor and to help disadvantaged students.
In 1984, he and his family moved to Israel, where he brought that same passion and love for learning. He was committed to peaceful coexistence between Jews, Muslims, and Christians, and he and his wife established a school in Jerusalem that taught English to students from all religious backgrounds. He also devoted many hours to promoting better communication and more understanding among the various religious and ethnic groups. By all accounts, he was loved and respected, even by those who might not always agree with him.
Several weeks ago, Richard Lakin was riding a bus, when two armed Palestinian men boarded and began attacking the passengers with knives and guns. Mr. Lakin was both shot and stabbed repeatedly. He never recovered, and died yesterday. He was 76 years old.
I write this because acts like the murder of Richard Lakin seem so senseless. Here was a man who came to Israel to try to promote peace, a man who was admired by both Jews and Muslims. When his obituary was posted (you can read about his life in more detail here: http://www.bostonglobe.com/metro/2015/10/27/newton-native-attacked-israel-dies/yIPcCK019gpthdSK6yITWJ/story.html), some of the online comments immediately blamed the "Israeli Occupation" and seemed to defend the men who murdered him. I cannot accept that. Whatever your feelings about Israel's policies, Mr. Lakin was not responsible for the lack of progress in the peace process, nor can he be blamed for the frustration felt by many Palestinians. He came to Israel to try to make a positive difference. And he died for no good reason, the victim of an act of senseless hatred.
I agree that there are extremists on both sides in the Middle East, and I agree that these extremists are currently dominating the conversation. But whatever our religious views, and however we may feel about the current Israeli government (or about the current Palestinian leaders, for that matter), we cannot sit idly by and allow the extremists to win. Although Richard Lakin's voice has been silenced, I hope other educators and advocates will continue his work. He would not want us to give up on the dream that one day, Israeli Jews and Palestinians can learn to live and work together, as friends and colleagues rather than enemies. Although the odds of a positive outcome have often seemed long, Mr. Lakin never wavered in his commitment to doing the right thing; he continued to believe in the power of education, and he continued to believe peace was possible. For now, the world has one less peacemaker, but I hope that others who share his views will soon pick up where he left off. And may the memory of Richard Lakin inspire acts of kindness, rather than further acts of violence.
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
In Praise of Pitbulls
I never thought I'd write a blog post about dogs-- I have no pets (I'm allergic to dogs and cats, in fact) and I admit to being genuinely puzzled by folks who treat their pet like a finicky human child (will your dog refuse to eat unless you buy it gourmet pet food?); I've even known some people who talk to their pet more than they talk to their colleagues or neighbors. I do realize that because I'm not a pet-owner, it's hard for me to understand the emotions of people who dote on their dog or cat (or any other pet). But just because I don't share those emotions, that doesn't mean I have no empathy for the pet-owners who see their animals as companions or even friends.
And that is why I am puzzled by PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals), which seems to have decided that some dogs don't deserve to be loved or befriended-- PETA seems to have bought into the belief that one breed-- pit bulls -- is inherently dangerous and incapable of being a good pet. According to this logic, breed-specific bans are necessary, because pit bulls are attack dogs, and only by banning them can we all be safe. (In one famous opinion piece, PETA's president went even farther, saying that the only way to spare people from being bitten is to make sure that no more pit bulls are born. You can read it here: http://www.nathanwinograd.com/linked/killpits.PDF)
Of course, research has repeatedly shown that pit bulls are no more likely to attack than many other breeds, and that any dog who is poorly raised can be taught to act viciously. Sadly, that is what has happened to pit bulls: they have been used in dog-fighting, and some have been trained to act in a menacing way. But that is not the fault of the breed; it's the fault of their owners. Based on what I've read, and based on conversations with responsible pit bull owners, "pitties" can be sweet, friendly, and affectionate-- if that is how they are raised. You may have seen a TV show on the National Geographic channel called "Dogtown," about Best Friends Animal Society, an organization which rehabilitates dogs, training them and helping them to overcome past abuse. Their goal is to prove that few dogs are hopeless cases. (Best Friends rehabilitated many of the dogs abused by Michael Vick. And while a small number of those animals were in fact too vicious to be helped, the vast majority turned out to be extremely friendly and able to be adopted into good homes. You can find out more about the work Best Friends does with pit bulls here: http://bestfriends.org/our-work/pit-bull-terrier-initiatives.)
I wanted to write this because I know someone whose pit bull, a cuddly and friendly family pet, was arbitrarily removed from that home due to a local ordinance that banned anyone from owning a pit bull. As someone who hates it when human beings are stereotyped, I am equally dismayed by stereotyping an entire breed of animal: since there's no scientific proof that pit bulls are inherently dangerous, and since there's a lot of evidence that if they have good owners, they can be wonderful pets, I fail to see the benefit of demonizing their species. Rather, I'd like to see stronger penalties for people who abuse these dogs or use them for fighting. In many cities, animal abuse gets one the proverbial "slap on the wrist." That needs to change.
Meanwhile, all over the country, there are pit bulls who are in shelters, waiting for someone to give them a chance. Many will be euthanized before that happens. As I said earlier, I am not a pet owner, but I absolutely understand how much comfort a companion animal can bring. And if that animal is a pit bull, it doesn't necessarily mean anyone will be in danger. Rather, I am told by friends who own one that the vast majority of pit bulls are loyal and sweet. I agree with Best Friends and other advocacy groups that it's time for the states and cities with breed-specific bans to reconsider them. People who can give these dogs a loving home should be allowed to do so. And as someone who likes to see factual information, I believe it's also time for the myths about pit bulls to end. To help with that, here's a good site that refutes the misconceptions people have about this breed-- and hey, even Betty White says pit bulls can make wonderful pets! http://www.huffingtonpost.com/arin-greenwood/pit-bull-myths_b_5623555.html
And that is why I am puzzled by PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals), which seems to have decided that some dogs don't deserve to be loved or befriended-- PETA seems to have bought into the belief that one breed-- pit bulls -- is inherently dangerous and incapable of being a good pet. According to this logic, breed-specific bans are necessary, because pit bulls are attack dogs, and only by banning them can we all be safe. (In one famous opinion piece, PETA's president went even farther, saying that the only way to spare people from being bitten is to make sure that no more pit bulls are born. You can read it here: http://www.nathanwinograd.com/linked/killpits.PDF)
Of course, research has repeatedly shown that pit bulls are no more likely to attack than many other breeds, and that any dog who is poorly raised can be taught to act viciously. Sadly, that is what has happened to pit bulls: they have been used in dog-fighting, and some have been trained to act in a menacing way. But that is not the fault of the breed; it's the fault of their owners. Based on what I've read, and based on conversations with responsible pit bull owners, "pitties" can be sweet, friendly, and affectionate-- if that is how they are raised. You may have seen a TV show on the National Geographic channel called "Dogtown," about Best Friends Animal Society, an organization which rehabilitates dogs, training them and helping them to overcome past abuse. Their goal is to prove that few dogs are hopeless cases. (Best Friends rehabilitated many of the dogs abused by Michael Vick. And while a small number of those animals were in fact too vicious to be helped, the vast majority turned out to be extremely friendly and able to be adopted into good homes. You can find out more about the work Best Friends does with pit bulls here: http://bestfriends.org/our-work/pit-bull-terrier-initiatives.)
I wanted to write this because I know someone whose pit bull, a cuddly and friendly family pet, was arbitrarily removed from that home due to a local ordinance that banned anyone from owning a pit bull. As someone who hates it when human beings are stereotyped, I am equally dismayed by stereotyping an entire breed of animal: since there's no scientific proof that pit bulls are inherently dangerous, and since there's a lot of evidence that if they have good owners, they can be wonderful pets, I fail to see the benefit of demonizing their species. Rather, I'd like to see stronger penalties for people who abuse these dogs or use them for fighting. In many cities, animal abuse gets one the proverbial "slap on the wrist." That needs to change.
Meanwhile, all over the country, there are pit bulls who are in shelters, waiting for someone to give them a chance. Many will be euthanized before that happens. As I said earlier, I am not a pet owner, but I absolutely understand how much comfort a companion animal can bring. And if that animal is a pit bull, it doesn't necessarily mean anyone will be in danger. Rather, I am told by friends who own one that the vast majority of pit bulls are loyal and sweet. I agree with Best Friends and other advocacy groups that it's time for the states and cities with breed-specific bans to reconsider them. People who can give these dogs a loving home should be allowed to do so. And as someone who likes to see factual information, I believe it's also time for the myths about pit bulls to end. To help with that, here's a good site that refutes the misconceptions people have about this breed-- and hey, even Betty White says pit bulls can make wonderful pets! http://www.huffingtonpost.com/arin-greenwood/pit-bull-myths_b_5623555.html
Monday, October 12, 2015
The Best Congress Money Can Buy
Over the weekend, the New York Times published a very important investigative piece, entitled "The Families Funding the 2016 Presidential Election. You can read it here, and I sincerely hope you will, but be warned: it's somewhat depressing. http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2015/10/11/us/politics/2016-presidential-election-super-pac-donors.html?emc=edit_na_20151010&nlid=65276374&ref=headline
In the article, the authors note that a small number of super-rich men (and they are overwhelmingly men, as well as overwhelmingly white, and overwhelmingly from the older demographics) have provided the vast majority of the political donations up to this point: "Just 158 families, along with companies they own or control, contributed $176 million in the first phase of the campaign...Not since before Watergate have so few people and businesses provided so much early money in a campaign, most of it through channels legalized by the Supreme Court’s Citizens United decision five years ago." Of these super-rich donors, 138 have given their support entirely to Republicans, who have promised to cut their taxes, cut back on regulations they dislike, and scale back so-called "entitlement programs" that benefit the poor and working class.
I know what some of you are thinking-- if these donors gave their money to Democrats, Donna would be fine with it. But you'd be wrong. I would be every bit as upset, although for different reasons. Whether I like the policies of Democrats better than those of Republicans, the fact remains that allowing a small number of super-wealthy men (or women, for that matter) to control our politics is not good for democracy, no matter which side they happen to support. Call me old-fashioned, but when I vote, I want to feel my vote means something. If billionaires can use their wealth to get congress to favor policies that only benefit them and their business interests, how can I or anyone who works for a living hope to compete? What can I give my member of congress that will make him or her listen to me? On the salary I make as a professor, there's no way I can donate a large amount of money in exchange for access. So I don't get that access. But those 158 billionaires certainly do, and it's all because they can throw several million at a candidate's campaign and not think twice about it.
Something is wrong with that picture. And something is even wronger when the New York Times report led to ... radio (and TV) silence. As Charlie Pierce of Esquire.com pointed out, not one of the Sunday talk shows on television even addressed the report; nor have any of the major networks discussed it since. Perhaps that's not surprising, given that some of these wealthy donors own companies that are also huge advertisers, and some may even sit on boards of the corporate media giants. But still, you'd think it would at least merit a brief discussion of the excessive role money is playing in our politics. Sadly, it has not. I wonder if it will.
Meanwhile, Bernie Sanders is drawing large crowds and evoking cheers when he talks about how problematic it is for billionaires to have so much influence. I am sure some people who dislike Bernie believe he is anti-business (he has said he does not think of himself as a capitalist), but doesn't he have a point? Democracy cannot survive if only the big-money donors are able to get whatever they want, while the rest of us are relegated to the sidelines, bemoaning how corrupt and how inept our congress has become. And this should not be a partisan issue: neither working-class Republicans nor working-class Democrats benefit from a system that only rewards the wealthy among us. I'm one of many who believe the Citizens United decision only made matters worse. If you're interested in helping to overturn it, here is where you can find some like-minded people: https://movetoamend.org/
One of my favorite Rush songs is "The Big Money," and some of Neil Peart's lyrics couldn't be more appropriate: "Big money got a heavy hand/ Big money take control/ Big money got a mean streak/ Big money got no soul..." I keep expecting people to realize they are in fact being manipulated by politicians who are distracting them with claims that immigrants or Planned Parenthood or lazy poor people are causing the problems. No, not really. Once again, it's the big money. And although many voters seem resigned to the situation, I still hope that in the near future, the voting public will finally see what the game is, and demand some changes. But until they do, we're all dancing to the tune of 158 super-rich people. And that doesn't sound like democracy to me.
In the article, the authors note that a small number of super-rich men (and they are overwhelmingly men, as well as overwhelmingly white, and overwhelmingly from the older demographics) have provided the vast majority of the political donations up to this point: "Just 158 families, along with companies they own or control, contributed $176 million in the first phase of the campaign...Not since before Watergate have so few people and businesses provided so much early money in a campaign, most of it through channels legalized by the Supreme Court’s Citizens United decision five years ago." Of these super-rich donors, 138 have given their support entirely to Republicans, who have promised to cut their taxes, cut back on regulations they dislike, and scale back so-called "entitlement programs" that benefit the poor and working class.
I know what some of you are thinking-- if these donors gave their money to Democrats, Donna would be fine with it. But you'd be wrong. I would be every bit as upset, although for different reasons. Whether I like the policies of Democrats better than those of Republicans, the fact remains that allowing a small number of super-wealthy men (or women, for that matter) to control our politics is not good for democracy, no matter which side they happen to support. Call me old-fashioned, but when I vote, I want to feel my vote means something. If billionaires can use their wealth to get congress to favor policies that only benefit them and their business interests, how can I or anyone who works for a living hope to compete? What can I give my member of congress that will make him or her listen to me? On the salary I make as a professor, there's no way I can donate a large amount of money in exchange for access. So I don't get that access. But those 158 billionaires certainly do, and it's all because they can throw several million at a candidate's campaign and not think twice about it.
Something is wrong with that picture. And something is even wronger when the New York Times report led to ... radio (and TV) silence. As Charlie Pierce of Esquire.com pointed out, not one of the Sunday talk shows on television even addressed the report; nor have any of the major networks discussed it since. Perhaps that's not surprising, given that some of these wealthy donors own companies that are also huge advertisers, and some may even sit on boards of the corporate media giants. But still, you'd think it would at least merit a brief discussion of the excessive role money is playing in our politics. Sadly, it has not. I wonder if it will.
Meanwhile, Bernie Sanders is drawing large crowds and evoking cheers when he talks about how problematic it is for billionaires to have so much influence. I am sure some people who dislike Bernie believe he is anti-business (he has said he does not think of himself as a capitalist), but doesn't he have a point? Democracy cannot survive if only the big-money donors are able to get whatever they want, while the rest of us are relegated to the sidelines, bemoaning how corrupt and how inept our congress has become. And this should not be a partisan issue: neither working-class Republicans nor working-class Democrats benefit from a system that only rewards the wealthy among us. I'm one of many who believe the Citizens United decision only made matters worse. If you're interested in helping to overturn it, here is where you can find some like-minded people: https://movetoamend.org/
One of my favorite Rush songs is "The Big Money," and some of Neil Peart's lyrics couldn't be more appropriate: "Big money got a heavy hand/ Big money take control/ Big money got a mean streak/ Big money got no soul..." I keep expecting people to realize they are in fact being manipulated by politicians who are distracting them with claims that immigrants or Planned Parenthood or lazy poor people are causing the problems. No, not really. Once again, it's the big money. And although many voters seem resigned to the situation, I still hope that in the near future, the voting public will finally see what the game is, and demand some changes. But until they do, we're all dancing to the tune of 158 super-rich people. And that doesn't sound like democracy to me.
Monday, October 5, 2015
Youth Sports and the Disappearance of Childhood
I was reading an article in the Washington Post yesterday, and it really bothered me. No, it wasn't about politics, or religion, or the other hot button issues I sometimes blog about. It was about kids and sports. I have many memories of watching schoolboy sports, as well as watching the kids in my neighborhood assemble their own teams for pick-up games. It seemed like no matter what time of year, some sport was being played at some local field somewhere; and those of us who couldn't play were the loyal spectators, cheering for our team.
But according to the article I read, that isn't happening as much any more: in fact, participation in youth sports has been declining. These days, fewer kids are playing baseball, basketball, soccer... they're not even getting together for a game of touch football. No, it's not because kids prefer to be glued to their devices (although that certainly may be a factor for some). Mainly, it's because youth sports are no longer about having fun. They're about hard work and high expectations, the result of too many parents making too many demands. The focus of youth sports has changed: what used to be a good way for kids to get some fresh air and exercise is now treated like a high-stakes athletic competition, even at the youngest levels. There is so much pressure on kids to be the next big star or to win the next big game that many are just giving up and walking away.
According to the article (which you can read here https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/are-parents-ruining-youth-sports-fewer-kids-play-amid-pressure/2015/10/04/eb1460dc-686e-11e5-9ef3-fde182507eac_story.html), too many parents are ignoring the emotional and physical needs of young athletes. These parents forget that youth sports are played by kids, not grown-ups; the players are still young, still maturing, still learning, and they probably won't play the game perfectly. But then, not that long ago, nobody expected perfection, and if a kid made a bad play, it was disappointing, but it wasn't the end of the world.
These days, however, if you attend any youth sporting events, you may notice a disturbing trend: some parents in the stands are shouting at their kids or criticizing them as they play (or worse yet, screaming at the officials). Every dropped pass or strike-out is treated like a personal affront, rather than something that happens even to the professionals. And rather than letting their kids just be kids and learn at their own rate of speed, some parents expect their sons and daughters to practice for hours; parents who can afford it are even hiring private coaches for their kids, and treating each game as if it's an audition for an athletic scholarship. (These are the moms and dads who claim to be doing what is best for their kid-- whether their kid wants to play pro ball or not. But in reality, they may be hoping their kid vicariously achieves the athletic success they never had.)
Back in 1982, Neil Postman wrote a book called The Disappearance of Childhood, in which he discussed how attitudes about children have changed over the centuries. He noted a time when kids were shielded from some of the harsh realities of adult life, when children were allowed to be innocent and to act like kids, when they were not expected to act like miniature adults nor grow up too fast. I would be the last person to claim that we'd all be better off going back some mythic "good old days," but I do wish we could go back to a time when kids played sports for fun, and parents let them do it. I cringe when I see a parent yelling at a kid who made an error, and I hate it when parents call the referee rude names-- how does this teach kids good sportsmanship? Postman noted in his book that even in the 1970s and 1980s, parents were turning youth sports into adult sports, professionalizing and pressurizing them, as if every game was the Super Bowl; and since then, it's only gotten worse. I am not sure who benefits from doing that, but I do know what the cost has been... and it's the kids who are paying for it.
But according to the article I read, that isn't happening as much any more: in fact, participation in youth sports has been declining. These days, fewer kids are playing baseball, basketball, soccer... they're not even getting together for a game of touch football. No, it's not because kids prefer to be glued to their devices (although that certainly may be a factor for some). Mainly, it's because youth sports are no longer about having fun. They're about hard work and high expectations, the result of too many parents making too many demands. The focus of youth sports has changed: what used to be a good way for kids to get some fresh air and exercise is now treated like a high-stakes athletic competition, even at the youngest levels. There is so much pressure on kids to be the next big star or to win the next big game that many are just giving up and walking away.
According to the article (which you can read here https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/are-parents-ruining-youth-sports-fewer-kids-play-amid-pressure/2015/10/04/eb1460dc-686e-11e5-9ef3-fde182507eac_story.html), too many parents are ignoring the emotional and physical needs of young athletes. These parents forget that youth sports are played by kids, not grown-ups; the players are still young, still maturing, still learning, and they probably won't play the game perfectly. But then, not that long ago, nobody expected perfection, and if a kid made a bad play, it was disappointing, but it wasn't the end of the world.
These days, however, if you attend any youth sporting events, you may notice a disturbing trend: some parents in the stands are shouting at their kids or criticizing them as they play (or worse yet, screaming at the officials). Every dropped pass or strike-out is treated like a personal affront, rather than something that happens even to the professionals. And rather than letting their kids just be kids and learn at their own rate of speed, some parents expect their sons and daughters to practice for hours; parents who can afford it are even hiring private coaches for their kids, and treating each game as if it's an audition for an athletic scholarship. (These are the moms and dads who claim to be doing what is best for their kid-- whether their kid wants to play pro ball or not. But in reality, they may be hoping their kid vicariously achieves the athletic success they never had.)
Back in 1982, Neil Postman wrote a book called The Disappearance of Childhood, in which he discussed how attitudes about children have changed over the centuries. He noted a time when kids were shielded from some of the harsh realities of adult life, when children were allowed to be innocent and to act like kids, when they were not expected to act like miniature adults nor grow up too fast. I would be the last person to claim that we'd all be better off going back some mythic "good old days," but I do wish we could go back to a time when kids played sports for fun, and parents let them do it. I cringe when I see a parent yelling at a kid who made an error, and I hate it when parents call the referee rude names-- how does this teach kids good sportsmanship? Postman noted in his book that even in the 1970s and 1980s, parents were turning youth sports into adult sports, professionalizing and pressurizing them, as if every game was the Super Bowl; and since then, it's only gotten worse. I am not sure who benefits from doing that, but I do know what the cost has been... and it's the kids who are paying for it.
Sunday, September 27, 2015
What the Pope Can Teach Us about Education
Given how the visit of Pope Francis to the U.S. has dominated the headlines this past week, I would be remiss if I didn't make a few comments about what I learned from his visit (and yes, even those who are not Catholic can learn something from the great religious leaders of the world, no matter what their faith tradition). But before I begin, let me stipulate that I have a number of theological differences with Pope Francis. Much as I respect him, I wish he would take a bold stand and modify the church's ban on contraception-- for one thing, Jesus himself never said anything about this subject; and most Catholics in western countries simply ignore the ban. But more important, the lack of access to birth control is one of the main reasons for extreme poverty, especially in the third world. Given that the pope genuinely cares about the poor, it would be humane for him to address the issue of family planning. Of course, I understand that he probably won't. But that doesn't stop me from wishing he would.
Theology aside, what I found the most impressive about his visit was his consistently courteous tone. Even when he waded into the proverbial "hot button" issues, he did so with civility. He did not shout, he did not scold, he did not condemn. He gave his views, he represented church teachings, but he did so in a way that did not castigate those who might disagree. That is something to be praised, and it's also something all too rare these days. We hear too many political figures lashing out at their opponents, name-calling and slinging insults; we hear too many religious figures sitting in judgment, claiming that only their interpretations are correct and anyone else is deserving of scorn. The pope chose neither of those styles. He defended his (and the church's) beliefs, but he did so in a way that was neither judgmental nor scornful.
And he modeled tolerance in a very personal way: he joined with faith leaders from other traditions, including Jews, Protestants, Hindus, and Muslims, in a service to remember those who died on September 11, 2001. He didn't have to. He could have taken a hard line (as some other religious leaders might have) and said that since he does not agree with those other faiths, he would refrain from praying with them. He could have said, as some popes said centuries ago, that members of other faiths are in error and must be converted by any means necessary. But he didn't do that either. And since he holds the traditional view that women must not be priests or lead the service, he could have refused to be on the stage with women prayer-leaders. But once again, his tone was one of inclusiveness. And many of us found that very refreshing.
As an educator, I was especially pleased by what the pope did, because I know that tone matters. Yes, the Catholic Church has its rules, and Pope Francis did not advocate breaking them. But he taught about those rules in a way that said "Even if you disagree with me, we can still be kind to each other, and we can still seek common ground." I have been in classrooms where I saw teachers ridicule students who were slow, or harshly correct students who got things wrong. Agreed, there are students who are exasperating, students who don't work as hard as they should. But mocking them is probably not the best way to inspire them to change their behavior. Whether in a house of worship or in a classroom (or in congress, for that matter), those who hold authority need to do so in a way that is neither imperious nor unkind. I am not suggesting that we all should join hands and sing "Kumbaya"-- believe me, there are times when students can try anyone's patience, and when they absolutely need to be corrected, or held accountable for what they did wrong. But as the pope demonstrated, you can adhere to the rules in a way that doesn't make the other person feel invalidated, and you can state what you think is wrong in a way that doesn't make the other person feel stupid.
In the end, those of us who differ with this pope on issues of theology will probably continue to do so. But I hope we can conduct those disagreements the way he did-- with a willingness to listen, and a willingness to discuss our differences courteously. For the best rule, it seems to me, is the Golden Rule: treat others the way you would like them to treat you. That is what I saw from this pope, and I hope I continue to see it long after he has returned home.
Theology aside, what I found the most impressive about his visit was his consistently courteous tone. Even when he waded into the proverbial "hot button" issues, he did so with civility. He did not shout, he did not scold, he did not condemn. He gave his views, he represented church teachings, but he did so in a way that did not castigate those who might disagree. That is something to be praised, and it's also something all too rare these days. We hear too many political figures lashing out at their opponents, name-calling and slinging insults; we hear too many religious figures sitting in judgment, claiming that only their interpretations are correct and anyone else is deserving of scorn. The pope chose neither of those styles. He defended his (and the church's) beliefs, but he did so in a way that was neither judgmental nor scornful.
And he modeled tolerance in a very personal way: he joined with faith leaders from other traditions, including Jews, Protestants, Hindus, and Muslims, in a service to remember those who died on September 11, 2001. He didn't have to. He could have taken a hard line (as some other religious leaders might have) and said that since he does not agree with those other faiths, he would refrain from praying with them. He could have said, as some popes said centuries ago, that members of other faiths are in error and must be converted by any means necessary. But he didn't do that either. And since he holds the traditional view that women must not be priests or lead the service, he could have refused to be on the stage with women prayer-leaders. But once again, his tone was one of inclusiveness. And many of us found that very refreshing.
As an educator, I was especially pleased by what the pope did, because I know that tone matters. Yes, the Catholic Church has its rules, and Pope Francis did not advocate breaking them. But he taught about those rules in a way that said "Even if you disagree with me, we can still be kind to each other, and we can still seek common ground." I have been in classrooms where I saw teachers ridicule students who were slow, or harshly correct students who got things wrong. Agreed, there are students who are exasperating, students who don't work as hard as they should. But mocking them is probably not the best way to inspire them to change their behavior. Whether in a house of worship or in a classroom (or in congress, for that matter), those who hold authority need to do so in a way that is neither imperious nor unkind. I am not suggesting that we all should join hands and sing "Kumbaya"-- believe me, there are times when students can try anyone's patience, and when they absolutely need to be corrected, or held accountable for what they did wrong. But as the pope demonstrated, you can adhere to the rules in a way that doesn't make the other person feel invalidated, and you can state what you think is wrong in a way that doesn't make the other person feel stupid.
In the end, those of us who differ with this pope on issues of theology will probably continue to do so. But I hope we can conduct those disagreements the way he did-- with a willingness to listen, and a willingness to discuss our differences courteously. For the best rule, it seems to me, is the Golden Rule: treat others the way you would like them to treat you. That is what I saw from this pope, and I hope I continue to see it long after he has returned home.
Saturday, September 19, 2015
Some Reflections about the Ten Days of Repentance
In my experience, the most difficult words to say are "I'm sorry" or "I was wrong." For some reason, there's a human tendency (call it pride, perhaps, or ego) that makes us avoid taking responsibility for the rude or harsh or unkind things we've said. Even if deep down, we know we made a mistake, we tend to defend it. We try to find an excuse, or insist it wasn't our fault; we claim we were victims of circumstance. Of course, it wasn't anything we did: "mistakes were made," but nobody knows who made them. Or, it was the other person's reaction that caused the problem. But it certainly wasn't us.
You can see this behavior in all walks of life: politicians who, when caught making a factual error, either double down and keep repeating it, or insist their opponent is the one who is wrong; people in relationships who are so eager to blame the other person, and so unwilling to look at their own role in how things are going; students who come up with a millions good reasons why their term paper (which they knew about all semester) is late. I admit I'm as guilty of making excuses or defending my mistakes as anyone else. But at this time of the year, I tend to think about it a little more. After all, it's the Ten Days of Repentance, and that's something I take very seriously.
As any of you who have Jewish friends know, the Ten Days of Repentance are the period from Jewish New Year (Rosh Hashanah) to the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur). During that time, we are supposed to try to make amends with those we have wronged. But while that may sound easy enough, it's not. For one thing, some of the people we've wronged may no longer want to talk to us. Others are holding onto their anger, even as we are trying to let ours go. And then there's the problem I mentioned at the beginning of this post: while we may know an apology is in order, we can't bring ourselves to say the words.
I struggle with that sometimes. I've had disagreements or arguments with people I cared about, verbal exchanges that seemed so important at the time, yet so trivial and stupid when I looked back on them later on. But even though I knew I should have apologized for my part in the dispute, I didn't. Often, I wished I had; but still, I remained silent. Perhaps that has happened to you too: you allowed a friendship to be lost, or a relationship to be damaged by being unable to humble yourself and admit that maybe you said the wrong thing at the wrong time.
So, for me, the Ten Days of Repentance provides an opportunity: it's a good reason for getting back in contact with someone I may have upset. It creates the possibility that someone I spoke harshly to, even unintentionally, will forgive me and we can get back into communication again. Of course, it comes with a risk: just because I am ready to make amends, the other person may not want to hear it. But still, during this holy season, I have to at least make a sincere effort. And that's what I'm trying to do.
I always tell my students that communication is the most powerful thing we've got. I also tell them that communication is constitutive: it calls something into being that wasn't there before, just by our putting it into language and speaking it. What I am trying to speak during the Ten Days of Repentance is my sincere apology for anything harsh or judgmental or dismissive I may have said; I am trying to call into being the possibility that I will communicate more effectively and with more kindness in the upcoming year. For those who have been reading my blog, whether we have agreed or disagreed, I extend my thanks for your presence in my life; and whether you observe the Ten Days of Repentance or not, I pray that this new year will give you many reasons to be encouraged, and few reasons to be regretful.
You can see this behavior in all walks of life: politicians who, when caught making a factual error, either double down and keep repeating it, or insist their opponent is the one who is wrong; people in relationships who are so eager to blame the other person, and so unwilling to look at their own role in how things are going; students who come up with a millions good reasons why their term paper (which they knew about all semester) is late. I admit I'm as guilty of making excuses or defending my mistakes as anyone else. But at this time of the year, I tend to think about it a little more. After all, it's the Ten Days of Repentance, and that's something I take very seriously.
As any of you who have Jewish friends know, the Ten Days of Repentance are the period from Jewish New Year (Rosh Hashanah) to the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur). During that time, we are supposed to try to make amends with those we have wronged. But while that may sound easy enough, it's not. For one thing, some of the people we've wronged may no longer want to talk to us. Others are holding onto their anger, even as we are trying to let ours go. And then there's the problem I mentioned at the beginning of this post: while we may know an apology is in order, we can't bring ourselves to say the words.
I struggle with that sometimes. I've had disagreements or arguments with people I cared about, verbal exchanges that seemed so important at the time, yet so trivial and stupid when I looked back on them later on. But even though I knew I should have apologized for my part in the dispute, I didn't. Often, I wished I had; but still, I remained silent. Perhaps that has happened to you too: you allowed a friendship to be lost, or a relationship to be damaged by being unable to humble yourself and admit that maybe you said the wrong thing at the wrong time.
So, for me, the Ten Days of Repentance provides an opportunity: it's a good reason for getting back in contact with someone I may have upset. It creates the possibility that someone I spoke harshly to, even unintentionally, will forgive me and we can get back into communication again. Of course, it comes with a risk: just because I am ready to make amends, the other person may not want to hear it. But still, during this holy season, I have to at least make a sincere effort. And that's what I'm trying to do.
I always tell my students that communication is the most powerful thing we've got. I also tell them that communication is constitutive: it calls something into being that wasn't there before, just by our putting it into language and speaking it. What I am trying to speak during the Ten Days of Repentance is my sincere apology for anything harsh or judgmental or dismissive I may have said; I am trying to call into being the possibility that I will communicate more effectively and with more kindness in the upcoming year. For those who have been reading my blog, whether we have agreed or disagreed, I extend my thanks for your presence in my life; and whether you observe the Ten Days of Repentance or not, I pray that this new year will give you many reasons to be encouraged, and few reasons to be regretful.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
The Harm that Stereotypes Can Cause
Like many in the social media universe, I was offended by what happened to Ahmed Mohamed. If you haven't been following the story, he's a fourteen year old high school freshman, and like many kids his age, he loves to tinker. Sometimes, he tries to repair things around his house, and sometimes he tries his hand at inventing. The other day, he made his own clock. It wasn't aesthetically beautiful, but it worked and he was proud of it. So he brought it to school to show his engineering teacher. He wanted to impress the teacher with what he had managed to do. And that's where things went wrong.
It should be noted that Ahmed lives in Irving, Texas, where the mayor, Beth Van Duyne, has become a favorite on conservative talk shows for making inflammatory remarks against Islam, and promising to fight against "Sharia Law" in Texas. As fact-checkers and journalists have pointed out, there have been no efforts by any local Muslims to impose Sharia Law; but the facts don't matter to those who fear or dislike Muslims. So, Mayor Van Duyne became a media darling for her promise to stand up to the mythical threat of creeping Sharia. (Truth be told, most Muslim immigrants in Irving and in many other cities, including Quincy, MA where I live, have assimilated quite well: they are happy to be in the US, they want their kids to attend good schools, they become citizens, they work hard, and while some are religious, others are not. And yes, Muslims use Islamic religious law in their mosque; but that's similar to how Catholics utilize church teachings about taking communion or Jews follow Biblically-based dietary laws. In the workplace or at school or in most other places, the vast majority of Muslims are fine about America's separation of church and state; and they understand that the First Amendment guarantees freedom of worship to all. Thus, while Ahmed Mohamed's sisters dress in traditional head-coverings, not all Muslim women do; and Ahmed dresses like a typical American teenager, in fact.) But back to the story of his invention.
When he showed his home-made clock to his teacher, he was told not to show it to anyone else. This was not the response Ahmed had expected-- after all, he wanted his teacher to be proud of his ingenuity. But then, another teacher saw his invention... and the next thing Ahmed knew, he was being handed over to the police and asked why he had built a bomb. The police held him in a room for more than an hour, refusing his requests to call his parents (which, I am told by lawyer friends of mine is not legal-- as a minor, he had the right to have a parent present if the police needed to question him). The police kept wanting him to admit he had built a bomb; in fact, his principal told him he would be expelled if he didn't admit he had built a bomb. He kept trying to explain it was not a bomb-- it was a clock-- but they wouldn't believe him. And then they handcuffed him and arrested him for "building a hoax bomb." He was also suspended from school for three days.
Since that happened, the charges against him were dropped, but the police, as well as the principal and the mayor, have defended what happened, saying they were simply following protocol and trying to keep the school safe. But like many on social media, I cannot help but wonder: if a young man named John Smith, rather than Ahmed Mohamed, built a home-made clock, would the outcome have been different? Ahmed's father wonders too-- was it really necessary to interrogate his fourteen year old son for over an hour like a criminal, handcuff and arrest him (humiliating him in front of other students), and take him to the police station? Ahmed wasn't rude, he wasn't combative-- he just kept trying to explain that he had built a clock. As his father noted, his son is a good kid, with a good reputation, and his love for tinkering is well-known. Yet the assumption was that he must be a terrorist of some kind.
Okay fine, I know that we live in a post-9/11 world and people are skittish about potential threats. But based on what reporters learned about the story, this did not seem to be a threat at all. One wonders if the suspicion about Muslims that can be heard on so many talk shows, and the remarks of the mayor against Sharia Law, played a role in creating an environment where a kid named Ahmed who built a clock was suddenly perceived as someone dangerous. The story has a semi-happy ending: in addition to getting lots of support on social media for what does seem like a total over-reaction by the school and the police, Ahmed has received an invitation to attend a special evening for inventors to be held at the White House; he also received invitations to tour Facebook headquarters, visit MIT and visit Harvard. But I still can't ignore the fact that this young man was treated with such contempt by adults who should have known better. I hope he will be able to forgive those who thought he deserved to be arrested, adults who saw him as someone to be feared, rather than as a creative young man with a bright future.
It should be noted that Ahmed lives in Irving, Texas, where the mayor, Beth Van Duyne, has become a favorite on conservative talk shows for making inflammatory remarks against Islam, and promising to fight against "Sharia Law" in Texas. As fact-checkers and journalists have pointed out, there have been no efforts by any local Muslims to impose Sharia Law; but the facts don't matter to those who fear or dislike Muslims. So, Mayor Van Duyne became a media darling for her promise to stand up to the mythical threat of creeping Sharia. (Truth be told, most Muslim immigrants in Irving and in many other cities, including Quincy, MA where I live, have assimilated quite well: they are happy to be in the US, they want their kids to attend good schools, they become citizens, they work hard, and while some are religious, others are not. And yes, Muslims use Islamic religious law in their mosque; but that's similar to how Catholics utilize church teachings about taking communion or Jews follow Biblically-based dietary laws. In the workplace or at school or in most other places, the vast majority of Muslims are fine about America's separation of church and state; and they understand that the First Amendment guarantees freedom of worship to all. Thus, while Ahmed Mohamed's sisters dress in traditional head-coverings, not all Muslim women do; and Ahmed dresses like a typical American teenager, in fact.) But back to the story of his invention.
When he showed his home-made clock to his teacher, he was told not to show it to anyone else. This was not the response Ahmed had expected-- after all, he wanted his teacher to be proud of his ingenuity. But then, another teacher saw his invention... and the next thing Ahmed knew, he was being handed over to the police and asked why he had built a bomb. The police held him in a room for more than an hour, refusing his requests to call his parents (which, I am told by lawyer friends of mine is not legal-- as a minor, he had the right to have a parent present if the police needed to question him). The police kept wanting him to admit he had built a bomb; in fact, his principal told him he would be expelled if he didn't admit he had built a bomb. He kept trying to explain it was not a bomb-- it was a clock-- but they wouldn't believe him. And then they handcuffed him and arrested him for "building a hoax bomb." He was also suspended from school for three days.
Since that happened, the charges against him were dropped, but the police, as well as the principal and the mayor, have defended what happened, saying they were simply following protocol and trying to keep the school safe. But like many on social media, I cannot help but wonder: if a young man named John Smith, rather than Ahmed Mohamed, built a home-made clock, would the outcome have been different? Ahmed's father wonders too-- was it really necessary to interrogate his fourteen year old son for over an hour like a criminal, handcuff and arrest him (humiliating him in front of other students), and take him to the police station? Ahmed wasn't rude, he wasn't combative-- he just kept trying to explain that he had built a clock. As his father noted, his son is a good kid, with a good reputation, and his love for tinkering is well-known. Yet the assumption was that he must be a terrorist of some kind.
Okay fine, I know that we live in a post-9/11 world and people are skittish about potential threats. But based on what reporters learned about the story, this did not seem to be a threat at all. One wonders if the suspicion about Muslims that can be heard on so many talk shows, and the remarks of the mayor against Sharia Law, played a role in creating an environment where a kid named Ahmed who built a clock was suddenly perceived as someone dangerous. The story has a semi-happy ending: in addition to getting lots of support on social media for what does seem like a total over-reaction by the school and the police, Ahmed has received an invitation to attend a special evening for inventors to be held at the White House; he also received invitations to tour Facebook headquarters, visit MIT and visit Harvard. But I still can't ignore the fact that this young man was treated with such contempt by adults who should have known better. I hope he will be able to forgive those who thought he deserved to be arrested, adults who saw him as someone to be feared, rather than as a creative young man with a bright future.
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