As of today, I only have two months left in the army. 61 days from today, I will wake up and know, that for the first weekday in nearly 6 years, there is no formation that I have to attend. I will wake up and, most likely, reach for my physical training uniform before I realize that I don't have physical training any more. On that day, my life will be altogether different and I will know that it is time to return to a kind of vocal activism that I haven't felt free to do since I joined the army. Reflecting on that has made me remember my first swing at changing things with my own voice.
The first time that I really understood the ability that individuals had to steer the direction of the world around them was in sixth grade. I had thought about it before then. Once, in second or third grade, I had made a short-lived attempt to lead a campaign for children's' suffrage. But until that day in sixth grade I hadn't actually experienced the feeling of letting my voice be heard and then watching it change the course of events.
That year, upon returning back from summer break, my 6th grade class had discovered that the school had made all sorts of new rules about the conduct of students in the cafeteria. All of a sudden, we were required to sit in alphabetical order and eat without talking. We were told that recess was the time we had to interact with our friends, and that the school cafeteria was facing such a demand because of all of the students at my school that each individual class needed to spend less time eating so that another class could move in. Eventually the school let up on some of the measures, allowing us to talk softly, as long as we didn't yell. But individual students or groups were sometimes punished with a loss of recess if the janitor who was placed in charge of the cafeteria thought they were being too loud.
One day, the regular janitor was not at work, and so someone else had taken his place. This particular man had a much more draconian view of the rules then the regular regime and felt that my class was being altogether too loud. He was particularly upset at the conduct of the boys. And so, he decreed that all of the boys in my class would be made to miss their recess as they sat silently with their backs to the wall of the cafeteria. As can be imagined, we did not care for this decision one bit. Eventually, a more senior member of the staff forced him to release us and, because our class had recently been studying the civil rights movement of the 1960's, we felt that our rights were being tread upon. And so we asked for an apology.
His response was less then civil, and I still remember the exact wording to this day. He told us that he "didn't give a flying quack what we thought." I, along with the rest of my class, were offended and so we set about to protest his disrespect. One of my friends and I set about organizing the entire group of boys to stand outside the cafeteria door and flap our arms up and down, quaking like ducks at the tops of our young lungs, until the janitor finally came outside and apologized to us.
Looking back, I realize that our protest was, at best, a little impetuous. But even now, I am filled with pride every time I remember the story. Our victory may have been small, but it was a victory none the less. And our triumph was made all the sweeter because it was held against an adult while we were mere children.
I continued to be active in local politics throughout high school, at least partially because of that experience. In the years since high school though, my previous activism has become mere interest in politics. Basically, I've been sitting on my hands for 6 years, and they've started to fall asleep. I'm ready to wake them up.
As luck would have it, my transition back into civilian life is coming at the time of a national election. I know that there will be all sorts of opportunities for me to be active on every level of that election, from knocking doors for the democratic nominee (* cough * Obama * cough *), to helping the democratic party in local and state races. I can't wait.