Idol Flag
Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at the high school where I work, the P.A. kicks on, bells chime in by someone fascinated with the NBC jingle, and a student council member proceeds to read the bulletin. Before this, there is a reciting of the Pledge of Allegiance. I'm not terribly eager to do this, but I rise to my feet, place my right hand over my heart, and wait for those words, "ready...begin." I do it as an example to my students, none of whom were born on the soil to which they pledge their allegiance three days out of the week.
Today I noticed one of my best students, the Brazilian, stand up; his lips didn't move, his right hand rested down against his pant leg. As I skipped the line "under God," I noticed him glance over at me. After the Pledge ended, the students began to settle down in their desks as they then began to ignore the bulletin reading. I signaled to the Brazilian with a flick of the head.
"Hey," I started curiously, "why don't you say the Pledge?"
He must've known a question was coming. "I stand to show respect, but it's not my flag."
I nodded, understanding exactly what he was saying. I thought of all the people that are so patriotic that they would chastise the boy if they heard him say that, focusing on the dependent clause that came out of his mouth.
I looked up at the flag. For me, it had become more associated with blind "patriotism," along with pick-up trucks with stickers that say "Viva Bush!" When I looked at it I wasn't feeling pride for the symbolism it carried. The white stripes for purity. The red for the blood spilled for defending our country. The blue field uniting the fifty stars together. The 50 stars for the 50 states, the 13 stripes for the original colonies.
"It's not very attractive, is it?" I said.
Luis L. called out, "No way, Mister!"
I looked at it again, a black plastic rod holding it out from the wall, a gold-painted point at the top. The flag hung limply down, motionless, collecting dust. I looked at its off-white stripes. The fading red for the innocent civilians killed in war, the blood spilt from our soldiers who were sent in for unjustified reasons. The field made me think of election night's graphic of our country--the blue bookends, reminding me how united we do not stand.
I looked at those 50 stars and 13 stripes, thinking how complex "freedom" and "liberty" had become. How we march on, unquestioning in such acceptance and majority apathy.
"It's way too busy, huh?" I said aloud to no one. I turned away from the flag and asked my students to take out a piece of paper as two others handed out the textbooks.
Today I noticed one of my best students, the Brazilian, stand up; his lips didn't move, his right hand rested down against his pant leg. As I skipped the line "under God," I noticed him glance over at me. After the Pledge ended, the students began to settle down in their desks as they then began to ignore the bulletin reading. I signaled to the Brazilian with a flick of the head.
"Hey," I started curiously, "why don't you say the Pledge?"
He must've known a question was coming. "I stand to show respect, but it's not my flag."
I nodded, understanding exactly what he was saying. I thought of all the people that are so patriotic that they would chastise the boy if they heard him say that, focusing on the dependent clause that came out of his mouth.
I looked up at the flag. For me, it had become more associated with blind "patriotism," along with pick-up trucks with stickers that say "Viva Bush!" When I looked at it I wasn't feeling pride for the symbolism it carried. The white stripes for purity. The red for the blood spilled for defending our country. The blue field uniting the fifty stars together. The 50 stars for the 50 states, the 13 stripes for the original colonies.
"It's not very attractive, is it?" I said.
Luis L. called out, "No way, Mister!"
I looked at it again, a black plastic rod holding it out from the wall, a gold-painted point at the top. The flag hung limply down, motionless, collecting dust. I looked at its off-white stripes. The fading red for the innocent civilians killed in war, the blood spilt from our soldiers who were sent in for unjustified reasons. The field made me think of election night's graphic of our country--the blue bookends, reminding me how united we do not stand.
I looked at those 50 stars and 13 stripes, thinking how complex "freedom" and "liberty" had become. How we march on, unquestioning in such acceptance and majority apathy.
"It's way too busy, huh?" I said aloud to no one. I turned away from the flag and asked my students to take out a piece of paper as two others handed out the textbooks.
posted by matty at 8:38 PM
5 Comments:
Hey, I thought you didn't say the pledge in California anymore, at least not the bit with "under God." I still lived there when that happened. Did that get overturned and I missed it? Sometimes I wish I could just pledge my allegiance to the 9th Circuit.
At my middle school, one of the first things they taught in the Spanish classes was how to say the pledge. Why did they thing that was useful? Was I going to grow up, travel to Latin America, and recite the pledge to the US flag? It was purely memorization for most students at that point, so I really don't know what the educational value was. But really, when they teach you the pledge in English when you first start school, I guess you don't understand the words either.
Also, when my dad was little, instead of placing their hands on their chests, the raised their right hands towards the flags. WWII changed that.
All I could think was "what a profound statement from such a young man." Good for him.
Amazing what your students can get you thinking about.
For some reason I was a little surprised that you had asked him right then, in front of the class---maybe because it seems rather personal to me. I mean, I think that was right; I was just surprised.
If it was someone who wasn't one of your best students, would you still have asked? If it was someone who was more of a trouble maker or who you knew to be less articulate? Just curious.
I thought this was going to be about American Idol. Color me disappointed.
I picked the student out because he is one of my best students. Other students stand with their hand over their heart mumbling what they think they hear. I picked on him for sheer curiosity. He's a well-spoken, well-behaved, hard working student, so I figured the answer would be different. A possible answer from the wisecrackers would be "que fea," "que dijo" to a partner, or something of the like.
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