My stomach rumbles, for we had no morning meal. But it isn't really a meal I want, though I would not turn one down.
More than anything else, I want to learn to read.
Every year, regardless of the grade I'm teaching, I read this book, by Marie Bradby and illustrated by Chris Soentpiet, based on the life of Booker T. Washington, to my class. It's why I'm there. It's why they're there. The most important thing that I can teach them is to crave more knowledge, more understanding.
I think about the hunger still in my head -- reading. I have seen some people -- young and old -- do it. I am nine years old and I know, if I had the chance, I could do it it, too.
I think there is a secret in those books.
I tell my kids that there is a secret in books.
I tell my kids that it was illegal to teach slaves to read. We discuss why that might be. I want them to see what a treasure and privilege it is to have something that some of them consider a chore and nearly all of us take for granted.
I see a man reading a newspaper aloud and all doubt falls away. I have found hope, and it is as brown as me.
I see myself the man. And I watch his eyes move across the paper, it is as if I know what the black marks mean, as if I am reading. As if everyone is listening to me. And I hold that thought in my hands.
I will work until I am the best reader in the county. Children will crowd around me, and I will teach them to read.
I look at my little 4th graders and, without exception, every one of them has high hopes for their life. They love stories, they care about injustice, they are enthusiastic to learn new things.
I want that to be nurtured and sustained--not just in my kids, but in all kids, all adults. In myself. It's been an exhausting seven years, seven years of paltry hopes, seven years of having even my cynicism disappointed.
The bright spot of 2004 for me was having the privilege of voting for Barack Obama in Illinois Senate race. I followed the race closely--read what I could find, listened to him speak. And I was blown away--by his intelligence, by his respectfulness even towards the contemptible Alan Keyes, for his thoughtfulness and reluctance (or inability!) to reduce complex ideas to soundbites.
My brother and I made a date to vote for Obama. We got coffee and breakfast and drove to the polls. We voted and came back overjoyed to have cast that vote. I remember my brother saying that we would vote for him for president someday.
As I look toward this year's presidential election, I find myself daring to hope that the corrosive fear and anger we have suffered from can be turned around. I find myself daring to hope that my kids will grow up in an America of reinvigorated ideals, recommitted to a quest for knowledge and understanding.
More than anything else, I want my kids to grow up with a Thinker in Chief, not a Warrior in Chief.
More than anything else, I want my kids to come of age with a president who insists on understanding and rational discussion.
More than anything else, I want my kids to see the value of seeking truth, where ever it may lie.
More than anything else, I want my kids to grow up committed to protecting the rights of all people.
More than anything else, I want my kids to grow up in a country recommitted to our greatest ideals of freedom and justice.
I get to vote for Barack Obama this year--sooner than I thought I would be able to. But not too early--at this time when this change is most needed; at this time when I am hungry for intelligent, thoughtful leadership, at this time when I want, more than anything else, a president who can inspire the people to intelligent, thoughtful action.
"Most leaders spend time trying to get others to think highly
of them, when instead they should try to get their people to
think more highly of themselves.
It’s wonderful when the people believe in their leader.
It’s more wonderful when the leader believes in their people!
You can’t hold a man down without
staying down with him.
— Booker T. Washington"