Tag: +1 to humanity

captn-sara-holmes:

My class 10/10 lost the plot today. I don’t even know where to start or how to explain to their parents that I think they’ve all turned into tiny little rebels.

9:10 – we are studying a report about Chernobyl in guided reading. Several are looking at me gone out when I explain that nuclear power can be dangerous. “So why use it?” one asks. Why indeed.
9:12 – we are now discussing renewable energy. Several more express outrage and ask why the country doesn’t have to use renewable energy. Several more state that we should avoid pollution because it kills polar bears and stuff right, Miss?
9:13 – I mention that it’s a complicated issue because of different viewpoints, and that certain people, say Drumpf, don’t believe in climate change.
9:14 – chaos.
9:15 – small child suggests someone murder Drumpf. I say that murder is both bad and illegal.
9:16 – the class have learned the word impeach and are shouting IMPEACH TRUMP IMPEACH TRUMP IMPEACH TRUMP while banging on the tables.
9:17 – headteacher comes in to see what is going on. Small child tells him quite angrily that SOME PEOPLE JUST DECIDE TO NOT BELIEVE IN SCIENCE WHICH YOU CAN’T DO BECAUSE IT’S SCIENCE. He backs out of the room quite quickly.
9:25 -I have abandoned plans for grammar and the children are now writing persuasive pieces about Why We Should Use Renewable Energy.

The saga continued after lunch when we continued our WW2 topic work, learning about the holocaust.

1:35 – we are discussing Kristalnacht. The class are collectively outraged and appalled. One is in tears.
1:40 – “Miss, I fucking hate Hitler.” that’s okay, but please express your hatred of fascism without the F word or I’ll have to ring your Mum again.
2:00 – small child who suggested murder earlier says “isn’t this exactly what Drumpf tried to do to the Muslims?” There’s a heady mix of realisation and outrage in the room.
2:13 – “Racism makes no sense” says a child, looking quite confused.
2:33 – “Hitler would have killed me because I’ve got cerebral palsy, right?” says a boy. He is tackle-hugged by a girl from across the table. I have to pretend I’m not crying.
2:34 – The rest of his table have made a pact to never let anyone hurt him. I am still pretending to be super chill. I am obviously failing as another child offers me a hug.
2:37 – I ask the children to look at nine examples of things the nazis did against Jewish people, and then arrange them in a diamond with what they consider the worst at the top.
2:38 – Mutiny. They all collectively decide to arrange all nine cards in a line and say that they’re all awful things so they all go at the top.
2:39 – I tell them if they kind find a way to fit a line of all nine in their books then fair enough. Smart child suggests a circle. Everyone cheers. We have a break, and they go outside raging about Hitler, Drumpf, racism, prejudice and injustice in general. I am handed a very strong tea by my TA who congratulates me on my gang of angry eleven year olds.

Faith in humanity both challenged and restored. Bring on tomorrow.

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.

Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?

The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.

She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,

Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.

She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.

Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.

Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.

To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.

And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,

With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.

Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.

They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.

Not everything is lost.

Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be.  (via oliviacirce)

lagonegirl:

Bushwick 6th grader Ciro Ortiz has been spending the last few Sundays with a stand at the Bedford Avenue L stop, giving straight talk advice to straphangers the way only an 11-year-old can.

Like any superhero, Ortiz has a tragic backstory, which in this case is that he’s bullied by asshole kids at his middle school. Even in the face of that though, Ortiz’s mother says that he takes his profits and buys food and snacks for kids who can’t afford them. Truly, this is a child too good for both middle school and this Earth

source

Be the change, Ciro. From one bullied kid to another, you are doing the exact right thing. I love seeing young POC doing things like this. Proud of you! 

#LatinoKids #POCbusiness  

inkskinned:

sexual history does not define purity. i have seen pure. it is my friend silently moving things so her blind girlfriend doesn’t have to grope around for them. it is the seven year old student i had who learned how to sign “want to play” so he could talk to his deaf neighbor. it is the morning i woke up to find my dog and two cats all sleeping next to each other. it is in small beautiful moments: holding someone’s hand so they can work through a panic attack, giving someone a smooth rock from the ocean, a little boy being a princess, the look on a child’s face the first time they read a book on their own from start to finish. pure is paying for someone’s coffee, is giving up time for soup kitchens, is staying up late to help a friend work through things. it’s saying “yes, i’ll help,” even when you’re dead tired and you need help yourself. 

this world is full of terrible things people can do to each other and yet we don’t see “pure” as the moments that matter. we see it as one black or white possibility: either you are a virgin and holy or you are unclean. but people are not blankets of snow. we don’t dirty for letting people in. no. when we love, we only become more beautiful.