Election 2008

Today is election day....
A day when I used to sing “the voting song” with my students…
My mom had handed me the song. She had sung it with her second graders during Morning Program, the full K-2 assembly where students would say the pledge, review the school menu and sing songs according to themes. The song she handed me, was on a cassette tape and I took it smiling. I can remember walking into my room each year the first Tuesday in November, telling my kids that my mom never forgot them and that she sent along a song that she thought they would love and appreciate. I would instruct my students to say thank you when they saw my mom on the street.

“After all she is a very nice lady.” I would add.

Every year without fail, a Toby Eldred-like student would always exclaim to the whole class, “Well, your Mom was a lot nicer than you ever are!” In which I would always reply, “Well, I think you were probably a lot cuter in second grade too!”
But, after my pep talk, they would line up, shoulder to shoulder in chorus line fashion, in the front of the room and they would hold the song in their hands and they would sing. Their tall bodies and maturing faces would sing together and we would laugh at the saxophone solo that would interrupt the verses. Verses that included, “Mother, Father take my hand, vote for me until I can or Voting is more than a right you see, voting is your responsibility to me!”

In the last week, I have been reminded of Greene everywhere. Elizabeth K. came from Krakow to visit for the weekend and I heard from some of my favorite students via email or read updates on their own blogs. I know teachers shouldn’t say “favorites”, but, Mike Amodio always shakes his head and says, “I don’t know why you say favorites. They are all your favorites, Rebecca!”

I am not sure that is always true, but it is close and what I know, is that I miss them. On this historic day, when Barack Obama may be the first African American president of the United States, I miss them. I miss the students who were brave enough to learn about the world in a place that is often afraid of the outside world. I am proud of the students who created Gay Straight Alliances, pondered what it would be like to fight genocide and who called people for voter drives. I miss the students who were sitting in my room when September 11th happened, who were 9th graders, who watched the news with me, even though they may have been too young. I can name hundreds of kids who went on the journey and I can still see their faces, in my old classroom looking at me. Perhaps what is funny, is that it isn’t about history at all. History didn’t matter to them even though it mattered greatly to me. Perhaps the only thing that really mattered was that we cared at all, cared for each other.

Perhaps we all knew that we needed a place to cry, to laugh and to sing. We needed a place to cry when a student was struggling with the fact that they were gay in Greene, a place to write poetry to express how hard it was to get over sexual abuse. A place to try to overcome an eating disorder. We also needed a karaoke machine, so we could sing “Total Eclipse of the Heart” at the top of our lungs after school or a place to re-enact Harry Potter, when things got a little tough.

I think that has to be it. We just need places where being ourselves is not only ok, but it is celebrated. What a gift I have been given, so many students.
*****************************************************************************
This morning my phone started ringing. It was 5 am and I heard Sonja's voice on the phone. She was crying and laughing and crying and laughing, and said, "He won, oh my God, he won!"

We all have hope. Thank you Sonja, for being the one who told me the news, I can think of no one other than you that I would want to hear the news from. I think an Amy's YESSSSSSSSSSSS is in order!