Learning as an Act of Resistance

Keeping our wits about us, staying focused, and the essential work of lifelong learning

Hi, everyone.

If you don’t have a word for what you’re feeling right now, that’s OK. There are a lot of necessary words that haven’t even been invented yet. Maybe now is the moment for some new additions to the English language.

I woke up yesterday feeling… blank. Empty. Unfazed. Ennui. Serene. I floated through the house, touching my husband’s shoulder whenever we crossed paths, unable to conjure specific words. I folded the laundry and vacuumed the basement and returned emails and made the perfect espresso shot and added a tablespoon of Kahlua to it, and otherwise made it through my day like a normal, productive human, waiting for new reality to set in. In the afternoon, I met with a student I’ve been working with for months. My student is eight years old, and every bone in his little body is made of kindness. Helping him read gives me both pleasure and purpose, both of which I was especially grateful for yesterday.

All of that is to say: I am doing what I know how to do. Taking care of my family. Working with kids. Writing. Thinking hard.

And I’m not planning to stop.

Eight years ago, I woke up the morning after Election Day in absolute horror and panic. I remember walking into Starbucks in the rural county in which we lived at the time and feeling as if everyone in line might be an alien – a creature disguised in a human body but secretly belonging to another planet. We couldn’t have both looked at the same candidate and come away with such drastically different conclusions, could we?

I rode those waves of anxiety, fear, and disbelief for weeks, and then, to varying degrees, for each of the four years after. Outrage kept my head spinning and, too often, rendered me useless. There was so much to fix, so much to protect, so many vulnerable people at stake, and reaching for social media was one way of registering my disapproval, though it likely narrowed the echo chamber into which I dumped my thoughts.

I don’t want to do that again.

I don’t want to live in a constant state of outrage (though there will be plenty to be outraged by in the weeks and months ahead).

I don’t want to trade condemnations and repudiations with people who already think like I do. We know that any government that infringes upon the bodily rights of its citizens, denies people’s identities, and oppresses their God-given right to be who they are, love who they wish, exercise their right to vote, and live safely is NOT okay. End of story. Period. No need to litigate any of those points, and I’m entirely uninterested in any counterarguments. While I’m open to having my mind changed on many fronts, my moral compass is non-negotiable.

With that said, I’ve been contemplating what feels appropriate to share here. Beyond the Classroom is not (and will never be) a journalistic attempt at dissecting current events, nor a forum for politics. But do not misunderstand: learning is inherently a political act. The decision to pursue knowledge, become informed, acquire new skills - these are acts of resistance.

In my lifetime, they have never been as important as they are right now.

This morning

Heather Cox Richardson

wrote about the factors that influenced Tuesday’s election, specifically the massive disinformation and propaganda campaigns waged by Russia and other nefarious players.

“These techniques perverted democracy, turning it from the concept of voters choosing their leaders into the concept of voters rubber-stamping the leaders they had been manipulated into backing.”

As these political technologies strengthen, so, too, must our critical thinking skills.

Now is not the time for despair, paralysis, or inefficient outrage. Nor is it a sprint in which we should expend our precious energies, time, and money right out of the gate. This is a marathon with no distinct finish line (the work of protecting our democracy is forever), so the only option is to jog the damn thing at a sustainable pace. Do not minimize the small acts of resistance over which you have control. Protect your resources, protect your peace, and, above all, keep working. Keep learning.

At the heart of this battle for America is a division around education and educational opportunities. Though I don’t have a simple solution for making it all equitable, I desperately wish I did. I do believe, however, that modeling life as a persistent learner is essential in moving the needle and well within our locus of control.

We can make mistakes in front of our kids and acknowledge them.

We can expand our reading choices.

We can adopt new hobbies.

We can listen instead of talk.

We can back up our teachers and fund our schools.

We can wake up each day and remind our kids that their job is to become great thinkers.

The right to learn is the hill I’d be willing to die on, but the battle is not new. Carry on. Carry forward. Maintain purpose.

abby_maslin

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