terrorism

On the TV and in the newspapers all we hear and read is 'live your life or the terrorists win' and it sounds great, I__ all for that, except my kids won__ ask for a bathroom pass because the faculty facilities are on the first floor of the building and the MPs patrolling the second floor won__ go downstairs on their shift__o I__e got middle school kids afraid to take a piss because there might be a soldier in the stall next to them carrying a loaded M- 16__ut hell yes, I__ all for 'live your life' and screw the terrorists, and screw all the countries who harbor and support them. I__ on board with that, except I__e got these kids who stay home now, because they__e scared riding a bus with soldiers carrying guns, knowing that one soldier isn__ enough, so there__ a military truck full of soldiers with even bigger guns following the bus 'just in case.

The look of a smug teacher is priceless.

I have this thought, it__ horrible, and it makes me sick, but it__ true: one day these students will grow up and have their own kids, and they__e going to name them for men and women who will die in this war.

In my life I__e been very lucky to travel around the world and see students and teachers in nearly two dozen countries__ut the most awe-inspiring experience I__e ever had was two years after 9/11 when I had the chance to attend a conference in Manhattan and personally meet many of the heroic teachers who persevered under conditions that in our worst nightmares we could never have imagined. In my opinion there__ not been nearly enough written about those teachers, and I hope that changes soon.

We all lose people. We all have to live in the aftermath. It__ how we move forward that counts, but sometimes we are tethered to something in our past that won__ let us move forward.

In Korea I__ been so afraid that Sami would lose her dad. She did, but she didn__ get a flag. He went to Doha, then to Baghdad, then to Kabul, then to someplace else, and then to a different someplace else, on and on. He__ come home, leave again, come home, leave again, until one day he came home a different person altogether. Sami lost Angel, lost her family, and then she lost herself.

Always Sami. I was tethered to her somehow. To that scared little girl I__ found on the staircase nearly a year earlier; to the past, when teaching was simpler and I could care about everyday problems, when being relentless meant running two extra laps, not waiting for an MP to search the undercarriage of a bus for bombs before letting students approach it.

I__ in my classroom and I__ looking at this girl, but all I can see is my dad on the ground, in front of The Wall, telling the truth, finally__is knees drawn and his chest heaving__nd when people pass by they look the other way, except for this one lady who stops to give my dad a hug. She gets down on her knees to reach him, and now she__ crying with a stranger, and without asking I know it__ because she__ lost something, too, and I wonder if in comforting my dad she thinks she can find it again. Probably not. It doesn__ work that way.

In total this journey will take five flights and fifty-five hours, but in reality it began four decades and two generations ago when my uncle died in Vietnam.

For your own security it__ imperative you blend in with the native population.

Ahead in the distance we could see the main gate, but there was a sea of cars, none moving, people standing, milling around, waiting nervously, perhaps fearfully, as heavily armed MPs and military working dogs searched every square inch of every vehicle, searched every bag on every person, all the while keeping a vigilant eye on the long alley we were stuck in, and on the hundreds of rooftops that overlooked that alley, wary but aware that there were people out there who would gladly hurt us again if given the chance.

The only thing worse than his arrogance was his incompetence. He was a bully, behaving like an ass. I saw Angel though, not him. The memorial was right there, just outside the window. It__ in the flowers, and it makes me angry. Angel liked to sit on the couch, watch TV, eat chips. She hated outside. Maybe I should have been a bully and an ass to Angel__ parents. Maybe Angel and Grace would still be alive if I__ behaved like this piece of shit teacher.

It felt like we were reliving the first day of the school year, when students and teachers do the get-to-know-you dance__eachers tell students something about who they are, students pretend to care, and then vice-versa.

A son for a flag is a lot of sacrifice.

Teaching isn__ rocket science. It__ about being engaged, listening, paying attention. Despite conventional wisdom, you don__ need to talk a lot to teach well. You do need to care, though. Not so much about what people think of you or whether or not they like you, but about the kids and doing what__ best for them.

I felt a hand on my back, movement behind me, my guys making room, someone squeezing into our circle, and then one last hand joined the pile: my Korean aide. I guess it made sense. We were her real family. The closest thing she__ ever had to a real family, at least. All year she said maybe five words a day. 'Now kick some ass,' she said.

There are more good people than bad people, and overall there__ more that__ good in the world than there is that__ bad. We just need to hear about it, we just need to see it.

It was too late to pray, though. The sky was clear. The helicopters were gone. Too late for so many things. My fists hit the floor. My head hit the floor. My heart broke, hardened, and I lost my faith. That__ when the killing thoughts came. When it felt right to punish everyone who let this happen. I could start with Angel__ dad__ut where would it stop?