The power of language

**Sorry I haven't written in awhile. In November and December, school grew super busy and intense, as expected. Then in January, I decided I needed a small break from writing. Yes, I believe in breaks and balance... good for the soul :)

And now, for my 13th blog post:


Language. It's something that totally fascinates me; I'm a student of it and a lover of it and a big user of it. I suppose that's one of the reasons why I chose to start a career teaching about it. I always find myself thinking about language. Its uses. Its impacts. Its potential. Its dangers. The nuances of it. The splendor and beauty of it. The way it's so robust and dynamic and flexible. The way it changes and adapts and gets adopted. The multitudinous varieties of it. The ubiquity of it. The fact that we can never actually escape it. The way it connects us. The way it can divide us. The way it can galvanize us to do things, both good and bad, destructive and non-destructive. The way it can cause gigantic rifts between us. The way people use it. The fact that without language, we'd have a ridiculously hard time communicating with others and making sense of the world. The lasting impact it can have on us. The immortality of it. I could add more to this list, and so could you. But my picture's been painted. I hope.

The point is that language is such a significant entity, such a necessary concept. It's everywhere. It gives life to and powers everything and everybody. It's used and consumed at alarming rates of speed at every second of everyday by people everywhere. It's what makes the world go round. And because of this, the power of language should NEVER be underestimated.

During the past week, in news articles and opinion pieces and blog posts across the internet and in countless TV news programs, the use of language in American politics has come undeniably under attack. Many are assigning partial blame of the horrific Tucson tragedy that happened last Saturday on the vitriolic language American politicians (both Democrats and Republicans) have spoken or written over the past year. Of course, these politicians are not directly responsible for what happened in Tucson, nor should they be held so--they didn't plan the shootout, they didn't pull the trigger. That much is clear. But let's think about the power of language--its ability to persuade, to excite, to galvanize, to arouse anger (and all the other things proffered above). And let's think about the fame and authority and pervasiveness and influence of various political figures in America. Now doesn't it only make sense to draw some kind of logical conclusion connecting this insidious, violent-ridden rhetoric with the event that transpired last Saturday? Such language is far, far from trivial. Its potential impacts on people, especially those who are unable to process such language in a non-violent way, must be heavily considered, preferably before the language is used. And its consequences must be dealt with.

It is absurd to directly attribute the Tucson tragedy to these politicians, sure. But it's a very far cry to contend that their use of violent language didn't play some role in motivating Jared Lee Loughner to commit such a heinous act. Just look at his self-authored YouTube videos. There is evidence that the violent rhetoric impacted him, his thoughts, and his actions. We've had a well-known politician publish on her website a map containing crosshairs of democrats in the country. Crosshairs… symbolize gun targets. And can it honestly be considered simple coincidence that one of the crosshairs on that map pointed right at Representative Giffords? The same politician who posted the map tweeted "Don't Retreat, Instead - RELOAD!" Another politician said that if ballots won't work, then bullets will. Still other politicians have used hostage metaphors. We simply CANNOT ignore the effect this rhetoric has had and can have on people. It's gotten so far out of hand, it's disgusting. We cannot inculcate people with such hateful language and not expect horrible tragedies like this to occur, sadly. Language is powerful. And people better start accepting this. The vitriol has got to stop immediately, for the ubiquity and power of language demands it. And so does the safety and maintenance of humanity.

In America, we have a right to free speech, and everyone knows it. Such a right can be a great thing and on the other hand, a not-so-great thing. I heard someone say once that just because we have the right to free speech, it does not absolve the speaker of assuming responsibility for the consequences it has on the person or people impacted by the speech. I couldn't agree more, nor could I have articulated it any clearer. Sure, people can say what they want, but they better be ready to accept some (or in certain cases, almost all) of the responsibility for what happens as a result of what they've said. As a language arts teacher, one of my main objectives will be to make sure that my students really understand the power of language. I want them to get it, REALLY get it. I want them to understand how it can be good and how it can be bad. Language is a beautiful thing that affords us a plethora of life and opportunity and experience and joy. But it's also something that can breed hate, cause violence, and unnecessarily pit people against each other. I want my students to really understand these differences. For it is in understanding language this way that real, positive change can start to occur. Yes, I believe that America, and the world, can be made into even better places. But it must first start with people using language in much less destructive and much more productive ways.

1200 to 300 in one year?

A few Tuesdays ago, I went and saw Davis Guggenheim's new documentary film, Waiting for "Superman."  As a preservice teacher, I knew I wanted to go see the film.  But it was my awareness, my hyper-attentiveness you might say, to the vast social injustices in our society--the glaring disparities between various "superior" and "inferior" groups--that told me I needed to go see it.

The second education I'm currently receiving (so I can officially make the career-switch from business to public education) is responsible for this hyper-attentiveness.  The texts I read, the class discussions I participate in, the news outlets I access, and the stuff I think about all contribute to my greater awareness of the many social injustices that plague our society daily and hurt, unfairly, so many people who don't deserve it.  It can be very depressing stuff, but I actually don't mind the hyper-attentiveness I've developed as a result. For me, hyper-attentiveness just means more awareness.  And I don't think there is a limit to the amount of awareness I can or should have.  I believe the more aware I am, the better positioned I am to make positive choices in my life, and even more, the better positioned I am to positively affect others in my life.

Anyway, the point that I ultimately want to make here is that awareness is a good thing even when what we are becoming aware of is not.  We need to make ourselves aware of what is really happening around us, of how our actions are really manifesting themselves, of how other people are really having to live, even if that stuff is unpleasant or disturbing.  This is doubly crucial for people who are privileged in some form or another.  It is in succumbing to the tendency to want to turn our backs on such unpleasant and disturbing realities, to want to sweep it under the rug, forget about it, let someone else worry about it, and hope that it just magically goes away, that we actually aid in perpetuating someone else's pain.  The great majority of us never want to intentionally harm another being.  But when we hurt people unintentionally through our unwillingness to learn about and do something to help other people's problems--for no other reason than to keep us from feeling bad or depressed--what does this actually say about us?  It almost seems like just as much of a disservice as intentionally hurting someone.

When we choose to make ourselves aware of the realities that characterize ours and other people's lives, we are taking the first step toward positive change, the first step toward eradicating unsettling social injustices which are responsible for unnecessarily pitting human beings against each other.  In Waiting for "Superman," director Davis Guggenheim has produced a film that allows viewers to take this first step, specifically regarding the social injustices around public education in America.  In the companion book of the same title (2010, Participant Media), his intentions for the film are made clear: "Guggenheim wanted to take the conversation beyond staid policy discussions and into the subjects no one wanted to talk about, what he calls the 'uncomfortable truths' about public education" (Weber 20).  Weaving together the narratives of five public school students--all from various cities, in different life situations, and at different grade-levels, Guggenheim tells a story that no viewer will soon, if ever, erase from his or her mind.  He has done his homework and it shows: he includes several mind-boggling, but terrifyingly real statistics that are conveyed in an easily accessible manner and he has done interviews with top education reform leaders in the nation.  Even though there are several elements in the film that I could discuss at length, one statistic in particular has been at the forefront of my mind ever since I heard the gentleman speak it.  He was a staff member at a low-performing Los Angeles-area high school, one of the "failure factories" highlighted in the film.  He explained that they typically begin a freshman class with about 1200 students; then he said that by the time sophomore year rolls around, the class is down to 300.  I was stunned when I heard it and I'm just as stunned now as I type it.  Where are these 900 kids going?  What are they doing everyday?  Why did they decide high school wasn't something they needed to complete? Where do they think they're going to end up?  Where will they end up?  Do bad communities or bad schools come first?  Is the community responsible for the failure of the school or is the failure of the school what creates these struggling communities?  The film raises so many questions, and if you care at all about kids and communities and education in this country, it does so much more than that--it makes your blood boil.  And still for others, it brings them to tears.

Though Waiting for "Superman" is anything but a warm-fuzzy, inspiring production, it does an effective job of achieving Guggenheim's goal--to generate awareness about what's actually happening in the public education system today.  As someone who so passionately wants to go to work at an inner-city public school, Waiting for "Superman" was not only something I wanted to see, but it was something I needed to see.  It moved me to tears. And it's a documentary for crying out loud.  What does that say?  Social injustice in our society is rampant and that we willingly allow it to happen to kids and in the field of education, of all places, is downright disturbing.  It makes me want to vomit, really.

Above I say that the first step one can take toward helping to eradicate social injustice is to make the choice to gain awareness, to really learn about an issue.  The second step, then, is to take that awareness and do something productive with it.  Get involved with organizations that are already established with similar passions as you; go talk to your school board members; write letters to congresspeople suggesting ways to help alleviate problems; join the conversation, get others talking about these issues, and help to generate even more awareness; delve further into the issue by reading/viewing other similar texts; donate money to the organizations on the front lines of education reform who make the kids their number one priority (as opposed to something else); become a teacher if you're so inspired; the list goes on.  Do something, anything, to help fight the social injustice.  It can be discouraging to think that you are only one person and what real difference, what real change can one person make or inspire?  But if everyone thought that way, no positive changes would ever be made in our society.  And that's the truth.  Do not mistake small steps for no steps. Progress is progress is progress.  If we are determined and passionate enough, we can all work together to make change happen.  But it starts with awareness.  And it continues with action.

It's time to take tolerance one step further--to ACCEPTANCE.

Like millions of others this past week, I have been deeply disturbed and saddened by the rash of reported suicides among young men around this country.  When I came across the NPR story about Tyler Clementi on my Facebook feed, my heart sank, my jaw dropped, and my eyes welled with tears.  When I followed a link to an article listing three more teenage boys whose lives all ended in the same fashion--all in September--I nearly vomited.  And these are only the reported cases.  

Losing someone to suicide is horrible in its own right.  Losing a kid to suicide is even more horrible because he or she still has a whole lifetime to live.  Losing a kid to suicide because he or she has been mistreated so horrifically by other kids…now that's just unspeakable.  Completely unacceptable.  Despicable.  Outrageous.  Sickening.  And preventable.  IF we focus our teaching.

As parents, as teachers, as community leaders, as role models, as mature, open-minded human beings, it is so incredibly important that we teach kids tolerance, that we really work to make sure they understand that just because people are different from them, they don't need to hate and hurt them.  But you know what?  We MUST go one step further, and teach kids ACCEPTANCE.  It's unequivocally imperative.  We must MODEL acceptance for them.  We've got to show them what acceptance is and how to really live it.  In one of my classes the other day, a classmate made an interesting distinction between tolerance and acceptance that I have since embraced: tolerance is a decent first step but it is only a shallow "I can be OK with that" mentality; acceptance though is where we need to get to, for that is a true embracing, a true accepting of something.  It's genuine; it's from the heart.  We're all different in myriad ways.  But we MUST MUST MUST learn to accept those differences and to work together to make this world a better place.  For your survival.  For my survival.  For the kids' survival.  For OUR survival. 

No one, especially kids--who generally lack the maturity and emotional stability necessary to overcome such blows to their self-esteem--should have to endure bullying from others because of who they are.  NO ONE.  They should never feel that they have to hide how they identify themselves, whether that's heterosexual, homosexual, transgendered, questioning, or whatever else there may be.  Kids' lives are already hard enough, what with trying to figure out who the heck they are and even more, who they "think they're supposed to be".

HOW MANY MORE LIVES MUST BE LOST BEFORE WE SAY AND DO SOMETHING TO ENSURE ABSOLUTELY NO MORE?  HOW MANY MORE HORRIFIC STORIES LIKE THIS MUST WE READ AND HEAR AND BE DEPRESSED ABOUT?  HOW MANY?

Taking responsibility, taking initiative

On Seth Godin's blog yesterday, I read a post titled "Responsibility and authority."  It got me thinking of the relationship between responsibility, initiative, and leadership.  In the post, Godin highlights the seemingly subtle relationship between authority and responsibility as it has been constructed in our society.

"Many people struggle at work because they want more authority," he writes.  People believe they have to have authority to do more work, to contribute more value-added effort to the bigger cause.  They feel they need some kind of special entitlement or power to be able to have a bigger impact, to make a bigger difference where they are.

Godin's most powerful argument in the short post counters these typically falsely-held beliefs: "It turns out you can get a lot done if you just take more responsibility instead.  It's often offered, rarely taken."

There are always things we can do over and above our main/primary obligations (both in our professional and personal lives), if we just open our eyes wider and really look around.  Responsibility is there for the taking--either in the form of something on the table waiting for someone to claim and run with it, or in the form of a new idea that hasn't yet been explored but could have some benefit for the cause.  And in most cases, you don't need authority to take this responsibility.  Step up, take it, and run with it.  Not only will it show initiative on your part, but it'll also make evident your desire and will to be a leader, or if you've already established yourself as one, it'll give you an opportunity to show that you're an even bigger, better one. 

Have you been thinking a lot lately about starting a new group or campaign to focus on meeting a specific need in your organization?  Is there a new report or document that needs to be made that your boss or others of your coworkers have been frequently mentioning in meetings or brainstorming sessions?  Or in a similar context, is there a premature idea that needs to be further fleshed out and given more dedicated thought before it can be acted on?  How about an engaging lesson plan or unit idea that you've been mulling and know you should share with the other teachers in your department?
  
The responsibility is there for the taking, someone just needs to step up and do it.  So why not now?  If you have the bandwidth and you want to develop your leadership skills, or you want to contribute more, or you just want to learn and grow further, take that responsibility you see.  Take the initiative.  Eat it up.  Be a leader.  And be an even bigger impact for the cause.