“I pledge Allegiance to the flag of the United States of
America and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation under God,
indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for all.”
-- Pledge of Allegiance as amended, 1954
How many of us have stood proudly facing the flag
with our right hands over our hearts, earnestly intoning these words? It’s a
memory for me that goes clear back to Mrs. Orne’s first/second grade class at
the Chatham Center Elementary School in upstate New York.
This week, my heart is heavy and the country symbolized
by the flag to which I pledge allegiance is traumatized by the senseless
slaughter of innocents in Newtown, Connecticut.
If the recent election did not show how divided our country is, surely the
waves of angry comments for and against gun control on Facebook and Twitter do
so now.
We, the people, are the Republic for which our flag
stands. The question is what do we stand
for? For me, it’s simple: the Children.
I stand for childhood, that wonderful time of innocence
and exploration.
I stand for the outdoors and fresh air and all the
opportunities that nature presents to kids to learn about the earth we live on
and the foods we eat.
I stand for parents of all genders whose devotion from the
moment they start caring for a child NEVER wanes. The loss of a child at any age is
inconceivable, a wound which no amount of consoling can possibly bind and heal. But the loss of so many six and seven
year-olds is appalling to us all.
I stand for public servants of all kinds, but especially
for teachers who are increasingly tasked with the “job” of
raising our children, feeding them, sometimes clothing them, and teaching them
manners as well as ABCs.
I stand for first-responders who step into every
situation, regardless of any personal danger, and take care of our children,
whether they are in school, in a mall, or in a movie theater.
I stand for those who care for and treat our children for
all illnesses, whether they are physical and mental.
After the Columbine massacre, well-intentioned counselors
descended on the high school, anxious to begin the process of healing that
devastated community. Someone had the
good sense to ask the children what THEY wanted. It turned out, most of the students didn’t
want counseling at all.
The previous year they had worked with some professional
(theater) artists and created several original scenes that had been highly
successful at engaging the entire school community—as theater usually
does. The school contacted the artists
and re-engaged them to help understand what had happened, create a narrative context that could help
people understand the motivation of two of their own to do such unspeakable
acts, and then share the results within the community. This was the ONLY thing the students cared
about, according to my colleague from Colorado who reported this story to us at
our next national assembly of State Arts agencies.
For years I’ve been arguing that the arts inspire us, unite
us, bind our wounds, heal us, fix us, and set us back on track. Perhaps I am wrong about that. But I have learned over the years, to trust
the voices of children. In the sad and
sorry context of Newtown, CT, the children of Columbine have much to offer.
Perhaps we should let their experience serve as a guide.
I’ll stand for that.
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