Pax Washingtonia (among other things)

I've been thinking about power lately on a number of levels. My old friend BrianB (see his evolving (and involved) comments regarding the previous post) got me mad and then got me thinking. Always in that order...he's been doing that since we were 5...Anyway, BrianB was joined by the ancient Romans, the inauguration and various educational theorists. It's been a busy week...

First, the inauguration. I watched, of course, with K and an estimated third of the globe. CBS was streaming live from about three hours before (which was about 6:30 p.m. in Abu Dhabi), so I saw a lot of Obama and Michelle getting in and out of limos, exiting churches, moving into holding rooms prior to the big event. Over and over, I heard comments about how friendly the Obamas and the Bushes were and how there was a distinct lack of the drama that inevitably infects the transition process. And I believed the hype. I did! I, who have not believed one word out of our former president's mouth for eight years, believed that he genuinely likes Barack Obama and wishes him well. I was struck for the first time in my life by how truly precious a peaceful transition of power is. (I've lived through many, but this year's seems much more poignant. This has as much to do with the state of the world than with Obama himself.) In the world's only (for the moment) superpower, one man willingly hands the reins to someone he utterly disagrees with, gives him a big hug, climbs in a helicopter and flies into the sunset. That's cool, especially the hug part. As one of my students said, "When I saw the helicopter, I was so happy to see him leave!" But it's not just the leaving. It's leaving without pettiness, to say nothing of corruption or violence. It's knowing he didn't steal the Calvin Coolidge candlesticks (or whatever). It's knowing he gave up the codes even though he held the biggest guns there are.

Wasn't it cool to watch everything change, too? It was almost mystical (definitely liturgical)...the oath, the strike of the clock, the movers poised to haul the Obama's furniture in place (but not until high noon), the national hymns, the roll call of recent history. And am I crazy, or were both elder Bushes wearing matching royal purple?

The patricians in ancient Rome wore purple too (how's that for a smooth transition?) Leaders and thinkers through the centuries have drawn lessons from the republic, the empire builders, the wars, the circuses and the bitter end. Now I'm giving my 6th graders their first taste of this incredibly complex era. As I teach them the many ways power was wielded by the Romans (and what we can learn from it), I'm also conscious of my own power as a teacher. This is something I've always been aware of--not only this year but since the day I first stepped in front of a class. The questions I ask and what I choose to focus on (despite being guided by the textbook, especially this first year) do reflect my own lenses and biases. This is neither right nor wrong--it's inevitable. The only thing teachers can do is pay attention to where they're coming from and adjust whenever possible. Some educational theorists argue that teachers should strive to show no bias at all. Others see teaching as a way to advocate in opposition to the clear agenda that exists in the supposedly "unbiased" mainstream. The jury is still out as to which is better for kids. My view is that they're both right and both wrong. I have a responsibility to teach my students in a way that will serve them best. I determine what "best" means but so do forces beyond my control: curriculum standards, community norms, and what the kids themselves bring to the classroom. I respect these forces--they are as inevitable as my own biases. And so, I am utterly biased, but aware enough to adjust as much as possible. On top of that, I'm acted upon by a complex array of competing influences that cause me to readjust and find a new balancing point. It's as complicated as any profession out there, but what else is new in human systems? Teaching is the most fascianting job I've ever had for this reason. It is endlessly in motion.

The ancient Romans never stopped looking for ways induce wildly diverse peoples to work together productively. They ultimately failed, but they gave it a go for almost 1,000 years. I've only done it for seven. Clearly, I have a lot to learn, but I'm also not going to stop trying.