An Open Letter To My Students At Crossland High

Dear Students,

          During the nine years I spent as Principal of Crossland High School I had a chance to know thousands of you. Those of you that were there in 2004 when I arrived are now between 28 and 32 years old. Those of you that were there when I left in 2013 are between 19 and 23 years old. You are all adults now, and I have been thinking of you often.

          I have been spending a lot of time thinking about the Honor Roll Assemblies, those pep rallies for academic achievement that we had every quarter. I remember how much fun they were, and how much everybody looked forward to them. I was always so proud of those of you that got your 3.0 GPA and earned those coveted seats on the floor of the gym. I was even more proud of those of you that achieved the ultimate goal of a 4.0 GPA. I don’t think any of you were aware of how proud I was when you came up on that stage to get your engraved plaques with your names and Grade Point Averages displayed for all to see.

          One reason those assemblies were so important to me is because in the beginning, many people didn’t believe that we could do that every quarter. They didn’t believe we should spend the money on the plaques. They didn’t believe you would appreciate the purpose or act the way you should. They didn’t understand why the choir should sing, or why the band should perform, or why the Dance Company should dance. They didn’t believe your parents would attend. They didn’t believe in you.

          I have been spending a lot of time thinking about the speeches I made at those assemblies. Believe it or not, I never wrote down or planned what I was going to say to you. As I sat on the stage and watched you guys march into the gym I would always think of my grandmother, and trust in her to tell me what to say. That is why so many of my speeches were about respect for the individual, service to the community, and the pursuit of excellence. That is why so many times the things I said to you were personal. That is why I told you over and over again that “you can do anything that you want to do, but you can’t do it by yourself.” I told you these things because that’s what she told me. She inspired me, motivated me, and I wanted to inspire and motivate you.

          I have been thinking about the rules we had at Crossland. So many people thought that our rules were too harsh, unfair, and just would be impossible to enforce. I’m proud to tell the Class of 2004 that the rules never changed. The Class of 2013 had the same rules that you and everybody in between had. I will tell you now that those rules were meant to prepare you for the expectations that the workplace has for you now. If you use profanity with your boss, you will probably lose your job. If you get in a fight with your co-worker, you will probably lose your job. If you don’t show up for work, you will probably lose your job. I’m sure that you all would agree that you need your job. A three day or five-day suspension is nothing if it taught you the requirements for feeding your family.

          Since I retired I have had many conversations about Crossland High School and the things that were accomplished by you, the Cavalier students. I am always asked what my favorite memories are. I never hesitate to say “graduations”. You never knew it, but I would struggle every year to keep from crying. If love is “when the happiness of another is essential to your own”, I can honestly say I loved every single one of you. I knew that when you walked across that stage, there wasn’t anything else I could do for you. I could only hope that everything that I had said and done over the past four years had been enough to prepare you for what I knew was a world where the odds would be stacked against you.

          That brings me to today, and the thing that inspired me to reach out to all of you. In ten days, we will have a mid-term election that will be more important than any election in my lifetime, and probably more important than any election in the history of our nation. It is very possible that the results of this election will determine whether or not our nation, with the rights and privileges we have fought so hard to establish and maintain, will continue to exist as we know it.

           When I was growing up, I was very active when it came to civil rights issues, and whenever I would get angry or frustrated I would talk with my grandmother and she would listen quietly as I would rant and rave about the bigots and racists that were denying us the rights that were guaranteed to all American citizens in the constitution. When I would run out of things to say she always seemed to say, "Charlie, I know you’re upset… now what are you going to do about it?”

          “What are you going to do about it?” Those words have been bouncing around in my head for almost a month now.

          In one of those Honor Roll Assembly speeches I remember talking about a poem by John Donne. In part, it says;

“No man is an island, Entire of itself. Each is a piece of the continent, A part of the main… Therefore, send not to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.”

          When Martin Luther King Jr. led the March on Washington he was 34 years old. Its your turn now. Its time for your generation to make its mark on American history. The reason I’m writing this letter to you is because I have decided that this is the most impactful thing that I can do to save my country from descending into a hell that we may never recover from. I have asked you to do many things in the past. More often than not, you have responded and shocked many who had no faith in your ability to achieve anything of value.

          This is the last thing I will ask of you.

          Vote. Convince someone else to vote. Use your social media skills to convince as many people as you can to vote.

          Your job, your civil rights, your human dignity may depend on it.

           On November 6, 2018 “We the people of the United States” will get an opportunity to save our country and ourselves from the insanity that threatens us. “Send not to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.”

Sincerely,

Your Principal, Mr. Thomas

Aretha Franklin, Queen of Soul

Aretha and I have a relationship. She has been there for me, been there with me, for my entire life. I loved Aretha, but not in a romantic way.

Aretha had an uncanny physical resemblance to my sister, which made it impossible for me to think of her in sexual terms. I reserved those feelings for her sister Carolyn, who sang back-up for her. What I loved about Aretha was her style, her playfulness, her sense of humor. I loved her songs, and the way she sang them. But more than anything else, I loved her voice, that amazing, powerful, beautiful sound that she created from within. Nobody. Nobody could sing like Aretha.

I was not surprised when I heard that Aretha died today. It was common knowledge that her condition was grave, her family was present, and her death was imminent. I thought I was prepared for it. But when I saw her standing on the portico of the nation’s Capital, dressed like my mother dressed on Sunday mornings, singing “My Country Tis of Thee” as only she could and would, my heart began to ache. As I saw President Obama sitting behind her waiting to be sworn in as President of the United States, and the incredible throng of people crowded into the National Mall for as far as the eye could see, I could feel my emotions as they rose from the pit of my stomach, rising inexorably through my chest, my throat, searching for an outlet through my quickly moistening eyes. I knew what would happen next, but I did not want to cry, so I quickly turned the television off.

I knew that there were other ways to remember Aretha, so I reached for my phone and went straight to the playlist called simply “Aretha”. That playlist has 28 of my all-time favorite Aretha Franklin songs, and I turned it on… loud, clear, and strong. The first song to play was “Dr. Feelgood”, and my God, she sounded so good.

As I sat and listened, it felt as if I was experiencing a mosaic of my life. “Ain’t No Way” recalled a love affair gone wrong. I remembered walking to the record store after saving my lunch money for a week, so I could buy “Chain of Fools” for 98 cents. “Rock Steady” brought back the parties. “You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman” reminded me of Carole King, my friends in the Marine Corps, and my realization that white people could write beautiful, soulful songs too. “Until You Come Back to Me” made me think of Stevie Wonder. “If Ever a Love There Was” made me think of Levi Stubbs, the late, great lead singer for the Four Tops. This was the first duet that I heard Aretha do, and it is filled with the love and admiration they had for each other. “Oh, Me Oh My (I’m A Fool For You)” … took me back to college at Auburn. “Bridge Over Troubled Water”, “Call Me”, “Day Dreaming”. The songs and the memories just kept coming. For a while, it was comforting. There were times when I found myself smiling. My thoughts were almost centered on how fortunate I was to have shared this life with such a prodigious talent.

But then I heard Aretha say;

“I got a call the other day
It was my sister, Carolyn, sayin
Aretha, come by when you can
I've got somethin' that I want to say
And when I got there she said
You know rather than go through a long drawn out thing,
I think the melody on the box, will help me explain”

The song is called “Angel”. Out of all the Aretha Franklin songs that I love so much, this one is my favorite.

As Aretha began to sing;

“Gotta find me an angel, to fly away with me …”

The emotion came flooding back. I stopped thinking about my life and started thinking about hers. I started to wonder about the joy and pain that all of us endure. I thought about her family, her allegiance to the church, and wondered if she found comfort there. I remembered her triumphs, and the countless awards and accolades she received during her life. I thought about the relentless scourge we call pancreatic cancer and wondered how the knowledge of what she would be forced to endure affected her mentally.

I will never know the answer to any of these things, but I do pray that Aretha found peace and happiness then, as I am sure she has found those things now. I feel this way because I love her. And love, is when the happiness of another, is essential to your own.

Aretha made my life better. Aretha made the world better.

Her job is done. May God Bless her forever.

Still Waiting for Superman

Last weekend I was a passenger in my car as my daughter drove me and her dog, Langston, back to her apartment in New York. I was reading the Washington Post when I noticed a story about the graduation rate at Duval High School, a school in Prince George’s County, Maryland.The same County and school system that I spent my entire seventeen-year education career in. I am very familiar with Duval. Its demographics are very similar to the school I spent nine years in as Principal. I know some of the people on the staff. Immediately, I knew that this story would be personal.

I began to reminisce when the story began by recounting a visit the school got from central office staff to inform them that the school had a new goal: a graduation rate of 95.4%. I know from my own experience that to achieve a number like that in a public school like Duval is possible only if you cheat. I know this because it would not have been possible in my school either. Two-thirds of my students were living in poverty, so were Duval’s. That fact is manifested in many ways. Chances are, at least fifty percent of the freshmen that arrive at Duval are two or more years below grade level in reading, and three or more years below grade level in math. Just like mine were. According to the article, only 8 percent of Duval’s students were proficient in Algebra 1 and 23 percent were proficient in English. By the time I retired, our students were scoring at more than 80% proficiency in both subjects, and we struggled mightily to maintain a graduation rate above 80%. There is no way in Hell that Duval could achieve a graduation rate of 92.3%. It is very likely that they lost at least 20% of those kids in their freshman year by either academic failure or dropping out.

As I continued to read the article, I began to get angrier as I learned that administrators and staff responded to the pressure and made their goals. The Superintendent “paraded through high schools with banners and pompoms, in a New Orleans-style dance line.” He would soon sign a new four-year contract.

So how did this “miracle” happen? Was it some world-changing pedagogical breakthrough? A sociological discovery that solved the riddle of cyclical poverty and eliminated the destructive effects of institutional racism? Maybe even a groundbreaking method for mass motivation of adolescents? Well… No. Apparently, you can get a 90% graduation rate if you change enough grades, dumb-down enough “credit recovery” packets, and falsify enough Community Service hours.

Why? Why do good people do stuff like this? It doesn’t benefit the students. Education is preparation. An unearned diploma is meaningless. If you go to college and you can’t read, write, think, or count, you will fail. If you get a job and can’t do the work, you get fired. It is educational malpractice to send a young person out into this world unprepared. It doesn’t benefit the administrators and the staff at the school either. According to the Post, Duval had three counselors fired, an assistant principal resigned, and the principal retired. So why do people do it? Fear. Fear of a poor appraisal. Fear of getting fired. The ultimate irony is if you end up as a scapegoat, you get fired anyway.

But Duval was not alone. There were other high schools in the county that used similar tactics, got similar results, and staged similar celebrations. The State of Maryland investigated the entire school system. Prince George’s County’s position was that no one from the central office ordered wrongdoing. The investigation ordered by the state did not find any evidence of wrongdoing by the Superintendent or his lieutenants.

When I finished reading the story I started to discuss it with my daughter. I told her how often people from the central office would come to my school with directives that I knew were often impossible or potentially disruptive. There were times when their directives would be counter to goals and objectives that had been mutually agreed on by all the school’s stakeholders from the beginning of the year. I knew that as Principal, I would be ultimately responsible for everything that happened in that building. For that reason, there were “directives” received from the central office that were simply ignored. If I knew they were wrong, or not in the best interests of my staff and students, I simply didn’t do it.

I also told my daughter that I never considered any “promotion” to a central office position. I had no dreams of being “director” of anything and I certainly had no desire to be a Superintendent. When she asked me why I felt that way I told her that I believed that as soon as you left the school building your job was more about politics than education.

There is a great misconception in America that in order to fix a school system you need a “great Superintendent”. Superman. News Flash… Superintendents cannot fix schools. Superintendents are politicians, not educators. Principals and teachers and counselors and parents fix schools.

The best Superintendent I ever had understood this. During my nine years as a Principal I had seven Superintendents. This one was different. We (high school principals) had monthly meetings with him alone, there were no other people in the room. We sat in a squared circle. He had hand-picked most of us, and during those meetings he simply asked us what we needed, what our problems and issues were. He listened, took his own notes. All my issues were resolved in 24 hours. He did not give us ridiculous goals and mandates. He understood his role was to pick the best people to run his schools, make sure we had the resources we needed, make sure we had the support we needed, make sure we were accountable for results, and stay out of the way.

I’m glad my daughter was with me when I read that article in The Washington Post. It made me angry, it made me sad, and I needed to vent. She knows me, understands me, and listens well. What happened at Duval High School is happening all over the country, and its wrong. Unfortunately, it will continue, as long as the powers that be are… still waiting for Superman.  

How To Fix America (By This Time Next Year)

“I have a dream.

 It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

 I have a dream…”

“I have a dream that one day, this nation will rise up…

 live out the true meaning of it’s creed…

We hold these truths to be self-evident. That all men are created equal.”

I just got back home today. I spent the past few days in Alabama, “Sweet Home Alabama”. I had decided I had to go home again when the Equal Justice Initiative opened the National Memorial for Peace and Justice, and the Legacy Museum, both in downtown Montgomery.

I flew into Birmingham and checked into a hotel there. My first full day would be spent in Selma. One-hundred-degree weather, Brown Chapel AME Church, the Visitor’s Center, the Interpretive Museum, the Alabama River, and the Bridge. I had to walk across that bridge.

Just like John Lewis, Hosea Williams, and all those other incredibly brave African-American citizens that decided to march 54 miles from Selma to Montgomery in the Spring of 1965, to tell a racist governor and the people of America that the time was now for the country to live up to its creed.

They started their march six blocks away, at Brown Chapel AME Church. I would do the same. When I got to the crest of the bridge and looked down to the other side, I tried to visualize what they saw. In my mind’s eye I could see the militarized force of State Troopers and deputized klansmen waiting in formation at the foot of the bridge. I imagined the weapons they brandished; nightsticks, brass knuckles, guns. I thought about how intimidating the troopers on horseback must have been, waiting menacingly in the rear of the formation as if they were Jeb Stuart’s Cavalry during the glory days of Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia.

When I got to the bottom of the bridge, I tried to imagine what must have gone through the minds of the marchers when the troopers donned their gas masks, the cavalry started to advance, and the troopers began their advance to break up the march.

The African-Americans wanted to vote. The white people did not want them to vote. The result was Bloody Sunday.

On my second day in Alabama I drove from Birmingham to Montgomery. I drove down Dexter Avenue and parked my rental car in front of the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church. This was Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s church, and ironically, perhaps even poetically, it is literally adjacent to the Alabama State Capitol. Jefferson Davis took the oath of office to be the first and only President of the Confederacy on it’s steps. On the building’s portico, George Wallace declared “segregation today, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever!”. However, less than a block away, within plain view of that building, the Montgomery Bus Boycott and by extension, the Civil Rights Movement was born and nurtured at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church.

The capitol building is the actual birthplace of the Confederacy.

In the Spring of 1965, the March from Selma to Montgomery would conclude on Dexter Avenue. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. would stand on those same Capitol steps and make one of his most memorable speeches to the massive throng of people that stretched the length of the avenue. During that speech King reminded the marchers and the nation that “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”

Because of the blood and courage of the people of Alabama, the Voting Rights Act of 1965 was signed into law by Lyndon Johnson on August 6, 1965.

But, I didn’t stop there.

The National Memorial for Peace and Justice is located high on a hill overlooking the city of Montgomery. That is appropriate. It is the first comprehensive memorial dedicated to the memory of thousands of African Americans that were lynched in the most violent, despicable, ways imaginable. The purpose of this widespread and culturally sanctioned terror was to enforce the proposition that all men were NOT created equal, and that Black people had no rights that whites were bound to respect. This state of mind is what made it suicidal for a Black person to try to vote.

That is the essence of the courage displayed by the people that marched across that bridge. They put their lives on the line. They risked being lynched, to make it possible for everybody to vote.

Every single person memorialized at the National Memorial for Peace and Justice is a martyr for justice. They should be lifted up, high above the city that epitomized the evils of slavery, bigotry, and racism. It seems so right that the thousands of names memorialized there, with the date and places of their victimhood in plain sight, can now look down on the Alabama River and the former slave markets from a higher place.

Once again, I am reassured that unearned suffering, is redemptive.

But, I didn’t stop there.

I drove down the hill to Coosa Street and the Legacy Museum. It’s located on the site of a warehouse where Blacks were imprisoned in preparation of being sold. It’s about half-way between the old slave market and the main dock on the Alabama River. Montgomery was the capital of the slave-trade in Alabama, and Alabama had more slaves than any other state except one.

I was thinking of all these things as I drove back to my hotel in Birmingham. I thought of our current President. I thought of his problems, issues, and inadequacies. I thought of the Republican Party, and their total submission to the madness that has engulfed our nation. During my drive I realized ever so clearly that the answer to all that ails us is simple.

The answer is to vote. That is how the system is designed. That is the power of “we the people”.

The people in Selma knew that in 1965. That is why they risked their lives on that bridge. 

The key is the young people, the millennials, the gen-x’ers, the kids that are just graduating from high school. If they decide that it's cool to vote, if they decide that they're tired of waiting for the world to change, they could turn the government upside down.

Here’s the deal. Imagine that the Democrats win the House of Representatives. Imagine that the Democrats win the Senate. Imagine Pence is indicted, and Trump is impeached after Mueller names him as an un-indicted co-conspirator and lays out a devastating case of money laundering, bank fraud, tax evasion, and conspiracy against the United States. Imagine the officers of the NRA and Republican cabinet members and congressmen are indicted as well. 

The Speaker of the house would be a Democrat. With Pence and Trump gone, The Speaker would become President.

 At that point, our current nightmare would be over.

Can’t happen, you say? 

Registered Republicans are only 28% of the American population. The young people in America hate Trump and everything he stands for. But, they don’t vote! If they did, we could elect a Democrat senator in Alabama…. Oh wait! We did that!

Nothing is more important in a democracy than the vote. Young people changed the world in the sixties. Young people can change our world in November.

The Republicans

          Last night the President of the United States said that Black people have been voting for 

Democrats overwhelmingly for one hundred years. That was a lie. It may have been an ignorant lie, it may have been a vicious lie. Chances are, it was both. However, there is no doubt, it was a Damn Lie.

          In theory, Black men were given the right to vote in the aftermath of the Civil War. The 15^th Amendment to the Constitution was required because the original version stated that Blacks were only “three fifths of a person”.

          During the Reconstruction years in the South many Black men did vote, electing former slaves to public offices on local, state, and federal levels. Since the “Great Emancipator”, Abraham Lincoln was a Republican, it was unthinkable for Blacks to vote for anyone that was not a Republican. By the same token, no self-respecting white man in the former Confederate states would consider voting for anyone that was not a Democrat, since being a Republican was tantamount to being a Yankee.

          The Civil War ended in 1865. The Reconstruction years lasted from 1865 until 1877. During that time, the Union Army remained in the South. The army protected the former slaves from domestic terrorists like the ku klux klan, protected the schools that the Freedmen’s Bureau provided for Blacks, protected the homes and property of Blacks, and ensured that Blacks were allowed to vote.

          The Presidential election of 1876 was between Rutherford B. Hayes, a Republican, and Samuel Tilden, a Democrat. The vote totals in four southern states were disputed, and in order to secure the Presidency, Hayes made a deal with those four states that were controlled by Democrats. In exchange for their electoral votes, Rutherford B. Hayes agreed to withdraw all remaining Federal troops from the South.

The ku klux klan would do the rest.

          Immediately, life for Black people in the South returned to antebellum customs. No more voting. Enforced apartheid. Forced labor. Institutionalized debt, incarceration for non-payment, and devalued education. All of these things were savagely enforced by custom, law, lynching, and the ku klux klan.

          Meanwhile, the Democrat party ruled. Southern states were one party states. Republicans need not apply.

          Today, that statement is still true, except for one thing. The labels have switched. Southern States are still one-party states, but today, the Republican party rules. Democrats need not apply.

What the hell happened?

          Just like the Civil War, just like Reconstruction, just like the Compromise of 1877, Southern states supported the Democrats because of racism. If Abraham Lincoln was a Republican, white people in the South were Democrats. It was as simple as that.

 But again, what happened? How did it change? Why did it change?

Harry Truman was a Democrat, but he desegregated the military.

John Kennedy was a Democrat, but he integrated the University of Alabama and supported the Civil Rights Movement.

Lyndon Johnson was a Democrat, but he passed the Civil Rights Bill of 1964, the Voting Rights Bill of 1965, and the Fair Housing Bill of 1968.

On the other hand, ….

Richard Nixon was a Republican, and devised “the southern strategy” to get elected President in 1968, demonizing Blacks under a cloak of “law and order”.

Ronald Reagan was a Republican, and he kicked off his campaign in Philadelphia, Mississippi, the place where three civil rights workers were murdered, touting “state’s rights”. He campaigned against “welfare queens” and Black people buying steaks with food stamps, and vetoed a law that enforced sanctions against South Africa for its apartheid practices against the majority of its citizens.

George H.W. Bush was a Republican, and at the behest of his notoriously racist campaign manager Lee Atwater, used a blatantly racist campaign ad featuring “Willie Horton” to win election.

George W. Bush was a Republican, and he allowed thousands of Black people to die in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, many of them begging for help on rooftops and the Superdome, or floating lifelessly in the flooded streets of the city.

          There was a time in American history, when African-Americans were allowed to vote, that vote overwhelmingly went to the Republicans. The reasons were obvious. Republicans freed the slaves from bondage. The Republicans gave them citizenship, property rights, equal protection under the law, educational opportunity, the right to vote, and hope for a better future.

          During that same period, white people in the south voted overwhelmingly for the Democrats, because the Republicans took away their property (slaves) destroyed their homes and cities, killed their sons, husbands, lovers, and brothers, took away their dignity and altered forever their way of life.

          Since July 26, 1948, when Harry Truman desegregated the military, it has been the Democrats that have consistently done what was right for America’s women and minorities. As a result, it has been the Democrats that have slowly but surely earned the allegiance of African-Americans in the voting booth.

          On the other hand, the Republicans decided to make a deal with the devil, trading justice and morality for a dependable block of votes from what was once the Confederate States of America. By using a strategy of division along racial and cultural lines, tactics of overt racism, covert racial dog whistles, fear, intimidation, educational malpractice, and voter suppression, the Republicans have conquered the Southern States as well as many other states in which the defining factor is nothing more than a predominantly white population and education and economic norms below the national average.

          As a reward, they now control a majority of the country’s governorships and state legislatures, as well as the House of Representatives, the Senate, and the White House.

          I do not care if the President is a Democrat or a Republican. I do care if he is a racist. I don’t want my President to be a racist. I don’t care if the congress is controlled by Democrats or Republicans. I do want a congress that is not an apologist for a racist. I want my congress to be an independent, equal branch of the government, dedicated to doing what is best for the country, not what’s best for a political party.

          Abraham Lincoln once said, “A house divided against itself cannot stand”. He was right. The Republicans have been dividing us since Richard Nixon.

How much longer can we stand?

The Prayer

           More than twenty years ago a friend of mine asked me to attend an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. It was a meeting that they had been encouraged to bring a friend, and I never considered not going. The meeting was held in the basement of a local church. I was impressed by the sincerity of everyone involved. There was an atmosphere of empathy, humility, and honesty that was more than palpable. The group included males and females, old, young and middle-aged. Blacks, Latino, and whites.

          I listened to stories of strength and weakness, success and failure. I witnessed smiles, hugs, laughter and tears. But, the thing that I noticed above all else… the thing that invaded my consciousness and attached itself to my soul to this very moment, was the prayer. They said it in unison to start the meeting. They said it in unison to end the meeting.

          I have been saying and listening to prayer my entire life, but none had felt as true, relevant, inspirational, and life-changing as this one. I was thinking of the prayer when I left the meeting, and I found myself thinking of it in the days and weeks that followed. Each time I thought of it, regardless of the situation I may have found myself in at the time, the words of the prayer seemed instructive, comforting, and inspirational. As the years went by, the prayer proved to be the prayer for all seasons.

          One day more than ten years ago I was wandering through the local mall when I saw the prayer engraved on a wooden plaque. I snatched it up immediately. I had only recently been named Principal of a notorious high school in Prince George’s County, Maryland, and I knew exactly where I would mount it. The prayer would spend the next nine years mounted directly behind the desk in my office. I could not sit at my desk without seeing it, and no one could face me in my office without seeing it either.

“God, Grant Me the Serenity, to Accept the Things I Cannot Change…”

          I have always had a quiet, calm, demeanor. I don’t normally yell or scream about anything. However, being Principal of a large high school would try the patience of anyone. Nevertheless, the successful Principal must be the eye of the storm, and I eventually began to notice how often students, staff, parents, and community members marveled at how calm I always seemed to be. Serenity is a blessing, but it is impossible to achieve if you cannot accept those things that you have neither the power or influence to change. The prayer on my wall reminded me of that. Every. Single. Day. Every time I sat at my desk, either consciously or subconsciously, I asked God to help me to accept my limitations.

          Today, that has not changed. As my country struggles to deal with unprecedented challenges, as children are slaughtered in their classrooms with weapons designed for the battlefield, as our public officials allow themselves to be stained by the bigotry, racism, xenophobia, and misogyny emanating from the White House, the prayer is more necessary than ever. 

          If I could remove every military-style weapon from every civilian, If I could outlaw their future sales and impose debilitating fines and lifetime jail sentences for violating that law, I would. If I could remove Donald Trump from the presidency, if I could imprison every person involved in anyway with selling our democracy to the Russians, I would do that.

          It pisses me off that I can’t do those things. Some might yell, scream, or break something. I don’t do that. The prayer gives me Serenity.

“Courage to Change the Things I Can…”

          How much courage does it take to integrate a high school in Alabama in 1967? To join the Marine Corps during the Viet Nam War? How about integrating a major University in Alabama in 1973? I really don’t know, but I did it. A lot of the people I knew at the time thought I was showing more stupidity than courage. I do not know if my life has been what one would call a profile in courage, but I can say with great confidence that I have consistently been different.

          It takes courage to be different. I told my students this all the time. It takes courage to make great grades when your friends don’t care. It takes courage to go to college when your friends go to prison. I told my teachers this all the time. It takes courage to show up everyday when your co-workers stay home at will and still gets paid. It takes courage to be prepared with exciting, relevant, and innovative lesson plans when other teachers wing it… getting paid the same or more than you.

          I did many things as a Principal that other Principals did not do. I did some things I was not instructed to do. I did not do some of the things I was instructed to do.

          No one doubted that I was willing to change those things I could change. Every time anyone sat down in my office they saw it in writing, right behind my desk. Today, I search for those things that I can do to make my country a better place. As I discover those things, I will continue to use the prayer, to find the courage to act.

“And the Wisdom to Know the Difference…”

          I never knew my biological father, but I was told that he was an alcoholic. He died at the age of 53. I have never been a heavy drinker. I have never been a smoker. I have never used drugs. My stepfather was a minister. I grew up in the church, hearing countless sermons, countless prayers. I remember none of them.

          Fortunately, a friend invited me to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Fortunately, I went. I heard a prayer that moved me, inspired me, and became my guiding light.

          Thank God, and my friend.

“Amen…”

Just Say No

The President of the United States is a racist. There, I said it. Wrote it down for the record. Published it for posterity. I’ve said it before, but today, I feel the need to say it again. Loudly. Maya Angelo once told Oprah Winfrey that “when someone shows you who they are… believe them.” Oprah has said it was the best advice she ever got. Donald Trump has been showing us who he is for decades. I believed him then. I believe him now.

Now you probably think that I am about to go off on Donald Trump and his rant about all the “shithole countries” in Africa. Actually, I’m not. Sure, it pissed me off, but it didn’t surprise me. Remember, he showed me who he was decades ago, and I believed him. Besides, Trump says something or does something everyday that pisses me off. That’s what he does. That’s how we roll.

What I really want to do is talk to the democrat lawmakers in congress. I want to talk about morality, humanity, DACA, CHIP, hostages, backbone, and dreams.

In June of 2012, President Barack Obama, after congress refused to do so with legislation, established by executive action the “Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals” immigration policy. It allowed certain individuals to receive a renewable two-year period of deferred action from deportation and be eligible for work permits. Eligible individuals are referred to as “Dreamers” after the “Dream Act”, the ill-fated bill that failed to pass in congress and precipitated President Obama’s action. There are strict requirements to be eligible for the program. “Dreamers” must be able to check each of these boxes;

• No felony convictions or serious misdemeanors. Not convicted of three or more misdemeanors.

• Arrived in the United States before their 16th birthday.

• Were under the age of 31 on June 15, 2012.

• Completed high school or a GED, or honorably discharged from the armed forces, or enrolled in         school.

• Born on June 16, 1981 or after.

• Was physically present in the United States on June 15, 2012, and at the time of making their               request for protected status.

• Had no lawful status on June 15, 2012.

As of December 2017, approximately 800,000 people were enrolled and protected from deportation by DACA. In September 2017, Donald Trump rescinded the program, making all of them subject to deportation. Many to countries they had never known, countries that had cultures they had no knowledge of, countries that spoke languages they did not speak.

The Children’s Health Insurance Program, or “CHIP” provides health insurance to families with children. The program covers uninsured children in families with incomes that are modest but too high to qualify for Medicaid. The program has been in place since 1997. As of December 2017, approximately nine million lower-income children were covered by the program. As of January 2018, the republican congress has refused to provide long-term funding for the program.

On January 19, 2018 the federal government will run out of money. A spending bill to fund the government and prevent a shutdown of non-essential government functions must be passed by that date. Many government functions that are considered “essential” will become more chaotic than they already are. Fortunately, this time the republicans can’t do whatever they want and ignore the democrats in congress. The democrats in the senate must contribute precious votes to get a spending bill done.

Predictably, the President has decided to create a hostage situation. Trump is telling the democrats “if you want the government to continue to function, if you want your 800,000 Dreamers to stay here, if you want your precious nine million children to keep their insurance, fine. I will give you that. But, in return, I want 18 BILLION dollars, so I can START building my big beautiful wall to keep all those Mexicans out of the country”.

I am often amazed at how often throughout my life I am guided by the words and advice of just a few indispensable individuals. My grandmother often reminded me that “you cannot reason with a fool.” Donald Trump is a fool. If the democrats pay the ransom he demands today, there will be more ransoms to pay later.

Ironically, this is the weekend that America celebrates the birth and life of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I am reminded of something he said that became a guiding principle of my life. On October 22, 1964 Dr. King gave a speech at Oberlin College in which he said, “the time is always right to do what’s right”. That is what I hope every member of the senate will remember.

Humanity and Morality demands that men and women of character say “No” to blackmail, “No” to hostage taking, “No” to racism. “No” to Trump. If Trump and the Republicans insist on shutting down the government, if they insist on deporting the “Dreamers” and every other immigrant of color from America, if they insist on removing nine million children from their insurance coverage, then we have an entirely different kind of problem.

Incredibly, Nancy Reagan said it best.

Just Say No.