Teaching, Learning, and Leading in New Mexico

Post-Election Reflections

2008-11-10T07:44:00.000-08:00

Hopeful America Votes For Change:

As many of you know, over the last five months, I’ve worked as an organizing fellow and field organizer for the Barack Obama Campaign For Change in Dona Ana County in Southern New Mexico. Throughout this wonderful and intense experience, I have forged many new, close relationships and learned a great deal about myself as an activist and leader. With Tuesday’s triumph, I, along with millions of other Americans, feel an unprecedented sense of joy and hopefulness. Along these lines, the main conclusion that I draw from this campaign and its result is as simple as it is profound: anything is possible. To be sure, working on the campaign has been one of the most meaningful, formative experiences of my life, and I’d like to share with you some of the experiences I had along the way.

In 2004, Dona Ana County went for Democratic Presidential Nominee John Kerry by 2%; in 2008, Dona Ana went for Senator Obama by a resounding 16 point margin. Not only that, but, largely due to the efforts of the Obama field team in the county, as well as effective coordination with other candidates, every single Democrat who contested a race in this year’s election, won, including Congressional candidate Harry Teague, whose victory over Republican challenger Ed Tinsley represents the first victory by a Democrat over a Republican in this race in nearly 30 years. Moreover, due to our aggressive voter registration efforts, the Obama ground team in Dona Ana registered over 1,000 voters in the final two days of the registration period in early October, and was part of a broader effort across the state by the Obama Campaign to register 30,000 voters in a 30 day period, which we exceeded by 5,000. All told, when the networks called New Mexico for Obama on Tuesday night, we had produced an effort that resulted in an entirely blue Congressional delegation, as well as the widest victory margin of any swing-state across the land. Our ground game in Dona Ana County played a vital role in this success.

I also had the privilege of establishing the first presidential campaign field office in the history of Hatch, New Mexico, a small agricultural town at the northern tip of Dona Ana County, famed for its reputation as the green chile capital of the world. Hatch and the surrounding communities of Garfield, Salem, Rhodey, and Derrey, which, when taken together, encompass a larger area known as the Hatch Valley, has a total population of just under 2,000 people. I remember feeling excited when my regional field director, Allison, sent me an e-mail requesting information about the Hatch office for Campaign Manager David Plouffe, who was interested in our efforts because, apparently, Hatch is the smallest municipality in the country to host an Obama field office. Setting up shop in Hatch, I believe, powerfully illustrates the Campaign For Change’s sincere commitment to reaching out to communities not traditionally involved in presidential politics. This, to be sure, played an important role in helping us succeed in New Mexico, as well as other states.

Farm and migrant workers make up the majority of this population, with many undocumented laborers traveling to the valley during chile season to get jobs that others will not take. During my time as an organizer in Hatch, I had the opportunity to speak with several small-scale farmers, who, in the wake of a severe lack of meaningful immigration reform, had had a dickens of a time finding legal labor to tend their crops. At a time when millions of Americans feel a disconnect between their everyday lives and policies enacted by the government, it was powerful for me to see how public policy done right, and wrong, played a meaningful role in Hatch farmers’ lives.

Looking at things from a more day-to-day vantage point, my responsibilities as a field organizer included employing the Obama Campaign’s neighborhood organizing model to build localized teams to optimize voter turnout for Senator Obama in more than 20 Dona Ana County precincts. My ‘turf’ included parts of Northern and Eastern Las Cruces, as well as areas between Las Cruces and the Hatch Valley, which, as mentioned earlier, was also part of my territory. The neighborhood organizing model is based on a method of organization made famous by César Chávez and the United Farm Workers Movement more than forty years ago. The idea is that people working within their neighborhood can communicate a message more powerfully than, say, a television commercial, slam attack advertisement in a newspaper, or critical newspaper article. Some of the tactics my teams and I employed to reach as many voters as possible was holding regular canvasses (or door-knocking), conducting weekly phone banks, as well as doing tabling and holding regular house meetings for undecided voters. Before October 7th, a great deal of my work centered on registering new people to vote. After much work, I can happily conclude that, the neighborhood model, which gives people very specific roles in, and ownership of, a portion of the campaign, represents the most effective method of campaigning that I’ve seen. I feel convinced, no doubt, that this type of model will be utilized by President Obama to mobilize support around many of his initiatives and ideas.

Over the last five months, I’ve had the opportunity to make history, but our work is far from complete. I left my students in Church Rock, New Mexico, to be part of a movement that would change the way people look at, and are affected by, politics and public policy in our country. Now, I will return to Washington, with hopes of being on the front-lines of shaping policy that will create the type of systemic change needed to bring new hope and opportunity to communities like Church Rock and other, similarly situated areas across the country. Immediately, I plan to go to work for the good offices of U.S. Senator Jeff Bingaman, a noble lawmakers and true champion for the State of New Mexico. In future, I’d love to work directly for the new administration, particularly within the area of foreign policy. Drawing back to my main conclusion coming out of this election, I know that anything—anything—is possible.

Though our efforts were not perfect and our work far from easy, I feel as though my team in Dona Ana County was part of something upon which future generations will look back and say, ‘that was the moment when the youth of the United States took back its future. It was a time when people of all walks of life stood up and said, ‘we deserve something more, our country is better than this, and now is the time for us to create the change we need’’. What one saw last Tuesday as the television cameras roamed over tearful faces in the audience in Grant Park as President-elect Obama took the stage was an outpouring of emotion from a country that finally decided to take control of its own destiny. Yes, we can- and, yes, we did!

My Fellowship with the Obama Campaign

2008-06-15T18:43:00.000-07:00

I am now two days into my fellowship with the Barack Obama Campaign. Specifically, the initiative in which I'm involved is called the 'Obama Organizing Fellows' program. The program is comprised of roughly 3,600 activists from across the country who will spend the next six weeks of their lives working in 22 states, from New Mexico to Virginia. The program's objectives multi-faceted and inclue coordinating voter registration drives; recruit, coordinate, and retain volunteers for the Obama Campaign; do voter outreach; and organize Obama events and rallies, to name just a few.

In New Mexico, there are 41 fellows. After completing our three-day initial training in Albuquerque, we'll be deployed with our small groups (roughly 8-10 people) to you region. I will, happily, be stationed throughout the program, in my hometown of Las Cruces. This, I feel, is optimal for several reasons. First and foremost, I have a good knowledge of the political dynamic within Las Cruces that will allow me to help my fellow small group members come to understand and mobilize in Las Cruces. Also, I will be a benefit to the Obama Campaign because I have established relationships with leaders within Las Cruces and can begin to utilize them immediately to support the Obama Campaign. Being in Las Cruces is the best place for me to help the campaign as an Organizing Fellow, I believe.

Secondly, I am excited to be stationed in Las Cruces because it offers a chance to see and spend quality time with so many wonderful friends! I am staying with Tim and Thea Hand, who are, basically, second parents and true family to me. I envision hours of fierce competition over the ping-pong and scrabble board, as well as with Theo's son, Ryan, on the tennis court. There are so many other good friends and acquaintances with whom I'll have the pleasure of enjoying the NM summer in the coming weeks that it makes me giddy.

Supporting a movement to change the world by working for the Obama Campaign and spending time with some of the people about whom I care most in the world- I cannot imagine a better summer.

I will keep you posted on my experience with the Obama Organizing Fellows program, as they transpire. For now, I'll close with this- go, Tiger!

Cheerio,

--Daniel

On the Cusp of Completion...with so Much Left to Go

2008-05-29T16:23:00.001-07:00

What a Difference a Year Makes!

A Year in the Life of a Young Teacher:

Reflections after a Long and Ongoing Journey

School Year Concluding:
In roughly 14 hours, the final day of Church Rock Academy Elementary School's academic year will begin. Approximately 4 hours and 20 minutes after that (we do half-day Fridays), it will end, and take with it the most formative nine month experience I've yet encountered.

My first year as a teacher has been filled with ups and downs, no faces, emotions, and triumphs, but, at the end of the day, one thing has remained consistent, that is, my core belief, as well as that of Teach For America, that every single child has an inherent and tremendous ability to achieve outstanding things academically. As I spoke at today'd 5th grade graduation ceremony and peered behind me at the 35 students who will, next year, move on to a new and bigger school, I couldn't help but wonder if my teachings, antics, and constant overtures encouraging them to live with passion, patience, and commitment would endure as they headed off on their final bus ride from CRA. I believe they did.

It will not be easy to say goodbye to the current crop of fifth-graders, though I find extreme comfort in the fact that, next year, I will welcome into my classroom roughly 20 of the 4th graders with whom I forged close ties this year. You see, our school, wonderfully, has received a funding allocation that will allow us to bring in one more 4th grade instructor, which prompted my principal, Principal Schuster, to make the decision to go from a rotating schedule, to self-contained classrooms. In plain English, this means that, unlike this year, fourth and fifth graders will only have one teacher for their core subjects next year, as opposed to the current schedule of taking social studies and writing with me and working with Ms. Young and Mr. Mendrop for their reading and mathematics, respectively.

An 'All-subjects' Teacher:
I'm extremely excited about the change! Not only will I have an opportunity to continue on with students with whom I've already established a solid framework of trust (and, let me tell you, one of the most important lessons I've learned as a teacher this year, is that moving forward academically with one's students happens MUCH more when there exists a level of mutual trust), but I will also have a chance to delve deeper into my students lives, get to better know their story, goals, worries, fears, and enjoyments. Moreover, I am itching to become an 'all-subjects' teacher, finding the prospect of teaching reading and math particularly intriguing, as they dictact so much in terms of how well our students do in their overall academic maturation.

Indeed, next year will be a great challenge in terms of planning, which I hope to do much more efficiently and effectively in 2008-09, and I've already set to work, breaking down my standards and writing a daily math world problem booklet (which all CRA teachers will utilize next year, per a strategy recently created by our school's 'Math Goals' team, chaired by my dear and outgoing colleague, Andrew Mendrop, who'll depart from CRA in pursuit of a middle school teaching job in Medellin, Colombia- buena suerte, amigo!). Next year will push me in new ways as a teacher, but I'm extremely excited and motivated by the challenge.

This Summer:
In other and, I think, extremely exciting news, I received official word on Monday that I've been accepted into the 'Obama Organizing Fellows' program. What this is is a country-wide initiative launched by the Obama Campaign to train a new cadre of field-level political organizers to promote the campaign in their areas during the weeks and months leading up to Election Day. The application process, I learned, was competitive, and I am thrilled to have received an opportunity to join the campaign in this important way.

The program lasts six weeks and kicks off with a 3-day training in Albuquerque on 14 June (there are several other trainings taking part across the country around this time, as well). From there, Obama's New Mexico Fellows will deploy to their parts of the state to set to work. I will be in Las Cruces and work alongside Obama staff to learn how to do effective political field organization Obama style. We will organize volunteer canvassers, events, press releases, and more. I plan to receive a call in the coming days from a program representative to brief me more on specific logistical issues and am extremely excited to begin. Si, se puede!

Musical Ensemble Trip Well on the Way:
One week from today, I and eleven young and talented musicians, will depart for Washington, D.C., in a culmination of five months of wild preparation. Many thanks go out to all of you who've supported the efforts of the Church Rock Academy World Musical Ensemble to make good on an invitation from the Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of the American Indian to come to D.C. to perform. We will saddle up just after 8:30 a.m. on a two-day journey to the capital, with a stop in Chicago to change trains.

Upon arrival will head to our hotel and gear up for Sunday big performance, which will take place at 2:00 at the NMAI (all those in the D.C. area are heartily and enthusiastically encouraged to attend this wonderful performance)! We'll rock the house, dine on what I'm told is delicious cuisine inside of the museum and then retreat to the hotel for a celebratory evening of swimming, discussion, and, I'm sure, no shortage of unforeseen activity. On Monday, we'll tour the Capitol, courtesy of Senator Bingaman's Office (I should say that this trip was born with the thought of our youngsters walking wide-eyed into the hallowed Capitol Rotunda- we'll depart from Senator Bingaman's office on the 7th floor of the Hart office building, a floor that, ironically, is shared by Senator Obama- will we see him? Well, we're hoping por un milagro!), and then head of to the Smithsonian's Air and Space and Natural History Museums, before saddling up once more and making the long trip home. We plan to arrive back in Gallup on the evening of Wednesday, 11 June. All told, our journey will run for six days and take us clear across the country and back. I can't wait!

A Year to Remember- More Importantly,
A Year to Use:

Progress means taking the experience you and others have had and turning them into something good. I've learned and experienced a lot this year and can honestly say that I'm wiser, tougher, and more engaged as an educator, young person, and, more generally, human being. Two critical lessons I learned during college seem particularly relevant at this writing: first, be flexible.; secondly, know well the most core of your values. We need to stay flexible in the pursuit of our future plans, while at all times staying true to those core values we hold most dear. For me, this means doing whatever I can to ensure that every person (seriously, everyone) has a real and equal opportunity to fulfill their inherent potential. Some days, I know exactly the way in which I will fulfill this noble calling; on others, the path seems less clear. Still, the most important element remains knowing what is right and, though you'll inevitably slip up, err, and become discouraged, never letting anyone convince you that your vision is wrong, impossible, or silly.

It seems that we hear a lot of 'cants' this day in age. A black man can't become president. Low-income students can't achieve educationally. Balke can't teach. While the third still has an uncomfortable element of truth to it, despite my persistent efforts every single day to make it less so, I now find comfort in my ability to laugh at the nay-sayers, to cast aside pessimism as unfounded, and to dismiss claims that some battles just can't be won. Iin my students' actions and achievements, I find unquestionable evidence in support of the supposition that anything and everything is possible. Come to my classroom. Meet my students. See progress in action through THEIR great talents. It's been a wild ride. I've been privileged to attend.

Cheerio, and please take some time to review the pictures below, which illustrate some of the fun, challenge, and utter formativeness that has been my life over the last twelve months.

Enjoy!

Reflections: In three weeks' time...

2008-05-10T17:36:00.000-07:00

In three weeks' time, I will complete my first year of service as a Teach For America Corps Member. Looking back on all that has happened during the last year, from graduating from college on 21 May 2007 to entering the classroom for my first day on 14 August to watching Barack Obama give a life-changing victory speech in Des Moines, Iowa on 03 January to watching ten of my students rock the house this very afternoon in a performance in preparation for their upcoming trip to Washington, D.C. to play at the Smithsonian's National Museum of the American Indian, I can say undoubtedly that the person who sat down to write entry one to this blog in Moody Towers at the University of Houston upon my entry into the TFA program is both the same and different from the one who currently writes posting 57.

Reflecting on all the amazing experience, people, and thoughts that have entered my mind and life over the past twelve months, I become almost overwhelmed by emotion. I've learned so much, and, with each new lesson, realized how much more I still have to learn.

The most important lesson I've learned this year is that there exists a fine line between talking and doing, action and rhetoric, and at many points during the year, I've not known on which side I stood. However, a lesson of equal importance I've become more aware of over the last three hundred and some days is that, in my life, my number one goal is to stay true to, and act on, my ideals. One's ability to do this reflects on their true level of integrity, honesty, passion, and commitment. If I can meet this goal, I will have had a successful life. Did I discover the meaning of life this year- in a way, I know I have.

Perhaps there's too much to recount in writing, but I'd like to go over the highlights of what has perhaps been the most significant year of my life to date.

The Classroom:
To a teacher, students are everything, and for me it's just the same. You think about them, talk about them, and a perhaps distrurbingly regular basis, dream about them. Teaching is not an endeavor of instant gratification- one often do not see the fruits of one's labor until quite a while after it's been done, if ever. In this sense, teachers operate on an unabiding faith that what they do is both important and worthwhile. Good teachers know that any child, regardless of background has an inherent potential to achieve great things as a student and person. I wrote this on day one, I'm writing it today, and I'll write it on day 1 million. If anyone objects, I invite them to visit Northwestern New Mexico, where over 80 TFA Corps Members help their students perform miracles in their classrooms everyday. The right to learn is universal- no one deserves any more or less than another to have every opportunity to optimize and make good on their personal talents. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. once stated that, 'I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. This is the inter-related structure of reality.' He was right. We each have a role to play, a calling to support one another that cannot, will not, and should not end. Those who resist do so at their own peril. Those who assent rule the universe- they truly do.

Still, I've much to learn about good teaching. I need to plan better and more, get better control of my classroom management, establish better systems, create and provide better assessments, track in a more effective way, and a laundry list of other items that will enable my students to make greater gains in year two than they did in year one. Still, having spent one year in the classroom, my desire to develop as a teacher is more intense than ever. I know what I need to do, and I have better tools now to do it.

Coaching:
Coaching high school tennis has been a wonderful and enriching experience for me this year. After spending a school-day in a classroom with 4th/5th graders whose behavior is often less than stellar, it is always a treat and beautiful contrast to come to a setting in which I feel extremely at ease- the tennis court.

I came into my first of coaching at Gallup High School with extremely high expectations for a program that has not traditionally had them. After years of playing tennis in an extremely competitive setting, demanding serious effort and progress is simply programmed into my mind whenever I approach the game (coach, player, or fan). In the beginning, I struggled to understand how my players' mindsets could be so different from mind, especially when I saw such greatness in them in terms of potential. They had contented themselves, in past years, to practicing, having fun, and getting trounced in matches. That was unacceptable for me. I believe that, in anything one does, one should and must have fun. However, I also think we cheat ourselves (and waste time, quite frankly) whenever we demand less of ourselves than our best. Instilling in my players a mindset of victory and desire to make strides on the court was a long but, it seems, successful progress. We employed a concept I called the 'killer instinct'. This came from my mom, actually. When I used to play, sometimes I would play very well, get myself in a position to win, and let that be enough. I would go that extra mile and allow myself to taste the glory of victory (which means fully capitalizing on your capability). Finally, as I ended high school and entered college, I got over this and started, in big, close situations, to demand that I step up and clear the peak. Victories resulted, and I became a much more satisfied tennis player because I knew I'd given matches everything I had and not cheated myself. This lesson extends into my teaching and demands of my students. It's not enough to learn and do something haphazardly- you owe it to yourself to take your skills all the way.

Anyhow, my players have slowly gotten this message and earned some pretty impressive victories. This Friday, two of my players on the girls team will compete in the state doubles tournament, and my top girls singles player received a scholarship to player tennis for Western New Mexico University. One of my guy players is now thinking of college because of the focus his tennis progress has instilled in him. To think that I've made a positive impact on these and other players on my team means the world to me.

Church Rock World Musical Ensemble:
Some of you know of, and have kindly given money to, the Church Rock Academy World Musical Ensemble. This is a group of special, talented young 4th/5th graders, whom, over the last year have developed incredible musical skills, taken their act on the road to many prestigious locations across our state, and now will travel to Washington, D.C., to perform at the Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of the American Indian. Randy Markham, our musical director, began working with these youngsters in September, starting nearly from scratch. Not only did the students take immediately to the music, but, before long, they were dazzling audiences from locations far and wide.

In November, I reached out to the Smithsonian to see if they'd be interested in having our ensemble come perform in the capital. As an intern for Senator Bingaman during college, I lead tours of the Capitol for groups of young Native American performers, who'd come to the capital to perform at the National Museum of the American Indian. I remembered fondly the look of absolutely wonderment in their eyes as I lead them into the Rotunda of the U.S. Capitol and thought, 'My kids deserve this.' From that thought, that vision came five months on insanity- fundraising is not easy! However, I am proud to say that, somehow, we've raised just enough funds to make this trip, and on 05 June we will saddle up on an Amtrak for a cross-country adventure to Washington. What better way is there for my students to see the country and see the incredible thing that hard work, discipline, and outright passion for an endeavor can earn someone. Hopefully, their horizons will be broadened, their minds inspired, and their sense of possibility expanded. More importantly, hopefully they will know, when they perform in this prestigious setting, that their culture as young Navajos is something in which they should find an extreme sense of pride and excitement.

(Friends- we're still taking donations- Church Rock Musical Ensemble; P.O. Box 40; Church Rock, NM 87311- shameless, I know!)

Gallup For Obama:
Senator Barack Obama has the potential to change the world and history- of this, I am convinced. For this reason, I brought together 40-plus Obama supporters from across McKinley County to support the leader's campaign in New Mexico's Democratic Presidential Caucus on Super Tuesday. Working with a phenomenal staffer from the Obama Campaign, we knocked on doors, made phone calls, registered voters, and, ultimately, pulled Senator Obama to a near victory in our county, one in which Clinton was supposed to storm. This, no doubt, played an important role in making the Land of Enchantment Super Tuesday's closest state. Now, our governor, soon-to-be senior Senator, Democratic Party Chairman, and elected superdelegate have pledged their support for Obama. I believe that the work we did here in McKinley County through Gallup For Obama made a significant impact on this process and am proud to have been a part of it. I look forward to playing my role to ensure that NM goes blue for Obama in November!

Iowa in January-brrrr....
Speaking of Obama, I was able to work for his campaign in Des Moines in the two days leading up to Iowa's Democratic Caucus, as well as on Caucus Day itself. In one of the most frantic 72 periods of my life, I knocked on doors in the frigid Iowan winter, made hundreds of calls, delivered campaign gear to Caucus rooms, drove four older ladies, three of whom who'd never Caucused, to show their support for Senator Obama, and, basically froze my ass off. Still, what I won't remember about this incredible trip were the many brushes with frost-bite, but the amazing sense of empowerment I felt marching downtown with the other young progressives who ran Senator Obama's operation in Des Moines, watching other supporters, many of whom were of African American descent, drive by, honking their horns and feeling the same exact sense of freedom we did. History could be, indeed had been, changed by the passion, intellect, and downright grit of committed people dedicated to a better future. Our emotions hit their peak as we entered Senator Obama's victory party in a large stadium downtown. Listening to a high-school drumline proudly beat their instruments, we knew we were, quite literally, standing in the midst of history being made. A better day for this country was on the way. Those who said things like this, ultimately, couldn't be done had been proven wrong. More than five months later, Senator Obama, after following a road that has been anything but smooth, is on his way to the Democratic nomination for President and, I believe, the presidency itself. Yes, we can, folks- yes, we can!

Israel and the West Bank:
Injustice, beauty, and revelation. I felt many things during and after my excursion to the Middle East over spring break. The chief of which was a reaffirmation in my mind of my desire to be on the front lines on shaping U.S. foreign policy. I'll not say too much more on this because people who hope to be in a policymaking position in this country cannot speak all too openly on U.S. policy vis-a-vis Israel and Palestinians.

Still, my tips was incredible. I saw the historic wonders of Old City in Jerusalem, Bethlehem, and Hebron; the beauty of the Mediterranean in Yafo, south of Tel Aviv, the vibrancy of Palestinian families in small villages and large cities across the West Bank; danced in a Muslim wedding ceremony (not too well- but it was rockin'!); lost in a fiercely contested ping-pong match before a crowd of twenty-five energetic, engaged onlookers after that very wedding (what a night!); saw the Security Wall weave its way in and out of Palestinian communities; saw Yasser Arafat's tomb; had guns pointed at my head at checkpoints; spent countless time with a Palestinian development banker and microlender whose family hosted us in our journeys in and around Ramallah (wonderful people- another family to me- dear, sweet people whom I miss deeply); and so, so much more. I shalln't soon forget this experience, nor will its impact on my future plans be blunted.

I want progress. I want people from everywhere to experience the liberation that some, albeit a minority, of Earthly citizens feel when they know that they can achieve anything they so desire. One year one, I'm deeply rooted. One year in, I'm more passionate than ever about inciting the type of change necessary to create a world in which everyone can realize their fullpotential. And one year in, I'm more aware that there's SO much more I need and want to do.

Yes, I am truly teaching, learning, and leading in New Mexico. Thank you all for your support , friendship, and love. I will try my best to do everything I can. I trust you will do the same.

Posting 4- Ramallah: A Day on the Job with Anwar- 03 April 2008

2008-04-17T20:19:00.000-07:00

Amy had to part with us early. She was to attend a meeting at AMIDEAST, an educational institution with offices across the Middle East (http://www.amideast.org/programs_services/advising/ramallah/default.htm), for a meeting regarding opening a partnership between the University of Montana, Amy’s school, and AMIDEAST and, more specifically, creating exchange programs on both ends. Amy and I planned on going in with Anwar to his central office and watching the man at his work. I was particularly excited to watch this person whom I’d traveled, observed, and, basically, lived with over the past three days operate within his professional element. With that said, after a hearty run, during which I passed both the Beth El Israeli settlement and a Palestinian refugee camp, Alicia and I saddled up and, along with Anwar, were out the door, heading to his office across town (by the way, Ramallah is a sprawling city, much of which is perched upon a hill, as is Anwar’s flat, with homes and businesses spread out and many buildings quite similar in appearance. Also, some of the buildings were so large that it was difficult to know if a single family lived there or if, as is more likely the case, they served as apartments for several families).

Anwar’s office was much as I’d expected- sheik, simple, but altogether stylish. He had everything he needed: a laptop, meeting table, dining table, and impressive library perched atop a lovely bookshelf. On his desk, a picture of his three daughters no doubt made the grueling hours of pouring over expenditure and repayment reports more bearable (these reports’ benevolence depends to a large extent on the condition of political stability in the West Bank and Gaza, and so Anwar’s job in recent months has been quite challenging; still, Faten has managed to operate profitably dating back to at least 2005, the most distant year for which I saw data). He set straight to work, responding to mounds of e-mails, speaking with fellow staffers, but still managing to find time to joke and speak with us. We learned that he would be meeting with a representative of the United Nations’ Millennium Development Goals team in Palestinian Authority-controlled region. Apparently, the agent was hoping to win a partnership with Faten for a new initiative to help blue collar workers in the West Bank and Gaza formalize their operations. The EU had been designated as the primary funder, and Faten’s good name and reputation would provide a valuable asset to the man’s proposal.

Shortly after the lunch, his team arrived. They brought with them posters advertising a law recently passed by the PA emboldening and expanding the rights of women in the workplace (I happily took one of these home with me as a souvenir, though it became quite an object of inquiry and mystery amongst security guards at the Tel Aviv Airport, who were curious as to why I would bring home a poster with text in Arabic given my lack of knowledge in the language). The meeting ran long and, conducted primarily in Arabic, largely went over my head. Still, my discussion with the UN Rep. before the talks began led me to conclude that he was a hard-working, passionate man, and I felt he had a clear and good mission to expand the opportunities of small Palestinian business actors to formalize. A strong proponent of economist Hernando De Soto’s theory on formalization (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hernando_de_Soto_(economist)#Main_thesis), I believe that expanding the legal rights of economic actors represents a great way for them to earn a secure, sustainable living. When the meeting finally ended and the contingent departed, I felt confident Anwar would agree their proposal. Still, he had many qualms and said he needed to think about it but probably would not agree. He said that he received many requests like this that were high on plans but lacking in details, as he claimed this one had been. I felt disappointed but understood that a person in Anwar’s position, with a world of good intentions but an extremely limited budget, must make difficult decisions such as these. I reckon making these types of tough, but ultimately necessary, judgments represents a key component of effective business. I am still learning in this area.

I believe that Faten offers hope for Palestinians. It offers economic assistance to those who have talent and ambition but lack the financial resources to expand their vision. We all know that people living in desolate economic conditions can be driven to do crazy and, often, destructive things. With Faten offering market-based solutions to these problematic situations, it seems as though its efforts should be boosted more by lawmakers in Washington in the form of increased funding from its principal backer, the United States Agency for International Development. After a day on the job with Anwar, I concluded he is a passionate, effective banker, and his group’s vision for, and commitment to, a better life for Palestinians across the West Bank and Gaza represents the right way forward for this troubled area, all too often let down by the constant wrangling of ineffective, often out of touch political figures.

Ken and Kathy Kloeppel: Living Life the Right Way

2008-04-14T20:13:00.001-07:00

Ken and Kathy Kloeppel were married in 1978, thirty years ago. They met as young teachers at Sandia High School, actually beginning work at the school on the same day. Remarkably, twelve days after meeting Kathy, Ken knew that she was the one for him, proposed marriage, and, having received the answer he wanted, the young couple began making plans for their wedding (Ken, if there’s some secret to your success in courtship, I suggest bottling and selling it, my friend- it could help you get that woodworking shed you so desire!).

Both Ken and Kathy had upbringings in and around New Mexico, with Ken moving around New Mexico and the Texas panhandle as the son of an oil company representative and Kathy growing up in Albuquerque’s South Valley. In their childhoods, both Ken and Kathy seemed to have learned the value of hard work, family, and optimism, qualities they strongly exude and that anyone they meet quickly picks up on. The first time I met Ken and Kathy was at a recital for their daughter, Jenna, a good friend of mine from George Washington University. From the first minute, I could tell that each of Jenna’s parents were happy, energetic, and kind people. I liked them instantly.

I’ve come to know Ken and Kathy better through various stopovers in Albuquerque during which they allow me to park my van in front of their house as I make my way off for one type of trip or another. Whenever I stop in, I enjoy marveling at Ken’s latest paintings (he is of professional quality and presents and sells his work at many local vendors, as well as arts shows throughout the Albuquerque area). He obviously takes pride in his work and the locations he paints. Ken loves visiting and exploring New Mexico’s myriad beautiful natural areas and often simply packs up his truck, finds a road, and spends a day sketching, painting, and reveling in our state’s breathtaking scenery. Ken even gave me a poster, which features one of his paintings and hangs proudly in my room now. I hope that Ken will be able to visit my classroom later this spring to present a lesson on paining and art, more generally, to my kids, who love the subject.

Kathy was a dedicated school counselor before retiring four years ago (Ken retired ten years ago). She is a friendly, warm, and compassionate person, qualities that carried through to, and are quite apparent in, her daughter. Whenever I pass through, Kathy always sees to it that I have everything I need and is a great discussant. I love hearing her talk about Jenna because she is so proud of her. She seems to enjoy nothing more than watching her daughter grow and develop. I hope to take so much pleasure in watching my children grow.

Ken and Kathy bought their home, which is neat, well-decorated, and a place in which it is extremely easy to be comfortable, in 1988. After three years of teaching, Ken had saved up enough money to make a down payment on a home of his own, and when he and Kathy married they sold their houses (she had managed to buy one, as well) and moved into a smaller home a few blocks away from where they currently live. There is nothing flashy or fancy about their house, but they simply have everything they need and have obviously taken pride in keeping the place up during all these years. It’s inspiring and exciting to note the way in which Ken and Kathy take so much joy in life’s simple pleasures: painting, reading, discussing, cooking, and television, to name just a few. While she was never an artist herself, Kathy is Ken’s top critic, and he insists that his work is vastly better because of it. She makes me realize things I never would have, he says, and they show me a painting hanging in the living room that Ken was ready to throw out before Kathy made some suggestions and is now one of her favorite of his works. I asked Ken about the couple’s economic success over the years, and he said that simply keeping your head down and not over-extending on your resources is a recipe for happiness. I agree. It’s a simple and powerful argument. He said it amazes him sometimes how much people try to live beyond their means, when the best things are not really that costly. Many people say that, but, in the case of Ken and Kathy, it is really meant. Here is a couple that is healthy, happy, and content. These are everyday heroes, folks. They’ve raised a successful daughter who is passionate and deeply committed to doing her part to improve the world. Excitingly, they’ve given Jenna every opportunity to succeed, and, even more importantly, a sense of gratitude that makes her thankful for these opportunities and capable of fully utilizing them. It’s a pleasure to know Ken and Kathy Kloeppel. They represent a case study in living life the right way.

Posting 3: Jayousi- A Night to Remember, Friday, 04 April 2008

2008-04-14T19:27:00.001-07:00

Leaving Ramallah was not easy. I’d made such good connections amongst Anwar’s immediate family, which consists of a strong, hard-working wife and three, brilliant, funny, and talented daughters, one of whom is quite mischievous and gives Anwar fits. Still, as I left the flat in Ramallah after a wonderful morning run through the hills around his home and past the Beth El settlement and a refugee camp from which I met two boys, who asked me if I was Israeli. It was a good, challenging run, and I made my way home in time for a hot shower (which was nice but made me fell somewhat bad because Anwar’s family, like most Palestinians, have water tanks on their roof that are refilled once per week, making water resources quite scarce) and breakfast of, you guessed it, pita and hummus. It was good to be with the family (almost all of them as one had already left the house for exams at her university) one last time during the trip.

After breakfast, we moved. The plan was to stop in at some villages and towns before ending up at Anwar’s boyhood home of Jayousi, a small village north of Nablus. The first stop I recall was at a moderately sized city call Qalqilyah. Qalqilyah has something of a notorious reputation because it has only one entry point and is entirely (literally) surrounded by the security wall. To get a better idea of how this looks, examine the shape of the upper-case ‘Q’ I typed in the name of the town. Now, pretend the small line coming out of the ‘Q’s’ bottom is the road leading up the town. The place where the line hits the circle is the checkpoint, and the circle is the security wall, which encloses, that’s right, the town. This is how Qalqilyah looks. The checkpoint at the entry into Qalqilyah is open for roughly 50 minutes per day. The city does not have a mature, well-functioning hospital. For advanced medical treatment, its citizens must travel Nablus. Between Qalqilyah and Nablus exist 11 checkpoints. If you can get through the checkpoint going out of Qalqilyah, it can take an hour or more to get to Nablus. I would imagine that an ambulance carrying a woman in labor has an extremely difficult time navigating the pass from Qalqilyah to Nablus quickly enough for the patient to receive proper care quickly enough.

As we moved through the city of Qalqilyah, we observed empty streets filled with boarded up building and sleepy sidewalks. What we were told was once one of the West Bank’s busiest commercial centers had been largely abandoned. Ghost towns refer to places in the U.S. that were, at one time, bustling hub of economic activity but that, for one reason or another, had largely dried up and become depressed. We have ghost towns in New Mexico. Qalqilyah is a ghost town in the West Bank.

Once we moved from Qalqilyah, we started to move closer to Jayousi. Earlier, when Anwar began looking for the turnoff from the highway, Anwar became a bit dismayed as the road was covered in rubble and impassable. We, instead, had decided to proceed to Qalqilyah to see that city, find a way to Jayousi, and then, we later returned to a city called Azzoun, near where the previous turnoff to Jayousi had been, and began to make our way toward Jayousi’s village. Finally, we found our route and slowly, but surely, entered Jayousi, a small town whose streets are littered with small grocery stores, houses, and a mosque. Finally, we came to the house of one of Anwar’s brothers, Manour. We hopped out and greeted Manour, a tall man who spent time working in the states before returning to the West Bank. We were to store our things and sleep in the home of one of Anwar’s brothers who lives, primarily, in Israel, working as a taxi cab driver. He’d been one of the few who had gotten the special permits required for Palestinians to enter and work in Israel after the Second Intifada began. The house was large, multi-storied, well-decorated, and comfortable. After a brief talk with Mansour in his house next door, which was similarly, large, nice, and comfortable, we began to move down the street, further out of town, towards the fields that Anwar’s family used to work. Rows and rows of olive trees lined the space, and Anwar began to tell us more warm stories about spending hours under the sun with his family working the fields as a boy. Before long, we also came to a greenhouse that, we were told, was ran by an older man who’d received a loan from Faten and was now doing quite well. The farmer came out to greet us, and said hello with great respect and warmth to Anwar, which is true for about everyone we saw in his hometown (he’s like a king there). We were then able to enter the greenhouse and pick out a selection of vegetables, including tomatoes and goodies with which to make a fresh salad for lunch. As we emerged from the greenhouse, the farmer’s wife had prepared for us some sweet, piping hot tea, which we sat down and drank under a warm, clear sky, overlooking Anwar’s family’s fields and enjoying an altogether pleasant scene.

After the tea, our real adventure began, and, again, I ask readers to proceed with an open and even-handed mind. Our next stop was at a home directly across the street from Anwar’s brothers’ houses. Apparently, the owner was the husband of Anwar’s cousin and had had a recent stint in a West Bank prison (no walk in the park by anyone’s measure). As soon as we entered the home, the former inmate ushered us in graciously, immediately, of course, offering tasty coffee, which was followed by fresh fruit juices and chocolate. Straight up—it’s fun to visit Palestinian households! As we sat down, the talks, as they so often did during our stint in the West Bank, turned to politics. Our host expressed a longing for Israel to return to the border established before the War of 1967, also known as the ‘6 Day War’. He, moreover, lamented the violent state of affairs currently besetting Israeli-Palestinian affairs and expressed a strong desire for a turn to a more peaceful time.

Now, consider this.

Before we entered Anwar’s cousin’s husband’s home, Anwar made it clear to us that he had spent time in a Fattah (the Palestinian political party of Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas) prison because he was a Hamas (the Palestinian parliament’s ruling party). Hamas has drawn the ire of many throughout the world for its stated desire to eliminate Israel. Knowing this, I questioned our host further on the issue. He claimed, and said he was walking the official Hamas party line in this, that, were Israel to return to the borders established prior to the 6 Day War, which are the borders advocated by U.N. Security Council Resolution 242, then Hamas would lay down its arms. I found his comment thought-provoking. As I left the house, the reality dawned on me that we’d just had a reasonable discussion with a Hamas party member. We were never in danger. We were never antagonized for our country of origin. In fact, I like to think that our conversation at least helped all parties better understand one another. It’s interesting what can be accomplished when folks simply sit down with one another for an honest and open discussion.

It was supper time. The smell of barbecue emanated from an open grill firing away in front of Mansour’s house. Babies and young ones sauntered in front of the house, basking in the glory of the cool, evening air. One of Anwar’s friends, whom, he told me, had something of a mental disability came by and began talking politics and soccer. He told us soon after beginning his commentary, that he’d recently one the Palestinian soccer championship, though, judging by the skills he’d soon display, I must say that I doubt this is the case. Still, I found his company enjoyable.

We began another wonderful meal as the sounds of evening set in upon Jayousi. The evening call to prayer rang out, and the town was alive with movement. We knew that, on this night, we were in for a special treat, as a large wedding ceremony was to take place at the central mosque. Alicia and I’d witnessed a Muslim wedding during our first night in the region in Jaffa, and we were now ecstatic about the opportunity to observe one in a more intimate manner. We savored our dinner and found particularly tasty the salad that was made with the fresh vegetables donated us from the greenhouse run by the Faten loan recipient with whom we’d met earlier. As the meal concluded, we shook our heads in near disbelief at how nicely we’d been treated and welcomed in this community.

Before the wedding, we stopped off at the home of another of Anwar’s brothers, which was located near the mosque. At this stop-in, we had the special treat of meeting Anwar’s mom, an 83-year-old woman who’d no doubt seen more than anyone’s fair share of change and hardship, but, in her family, had also known immense joy. Anwar’s mother greeted us in unrestrained Arabic, either unaware of, or unconcerned by, our utter lack of ability to speak or understand the language. In either case, we were fundamentally charmed by this warrior of a woman. Of equal charm was Anwar’s 12-year-old niece who was as eager as anyone I’ve ever encountered to display to Alicia, Amy, and me her developing knowledge of the English language. We talked with her about her school, our families, our homes, as well as the Middle Eastern version of ‘American Idol’, the name of which I forget (help Alicia and Amy…). It struck me as interesting that this young, dynamic person would be so eager to display her knowledge of English and Western culture. I think that we like to focus exceedingly on the cultural differences that distinguish us instead of honing on the attractive point in our unique traditions (not that I necessarily think American Idol or like-minded shows in the Middle East constitute the best that Western Culture has to offer!).

Again, we moved. As we approached the wedding ceremony, our suspicion that women and men would be separated was confirmed. Alicia and Amy decided, then, to observe the evening’s ceremonies from the roof of the building in which we’d visited with Anwar’s mother. I, however, had my sights set on the celebration’s dancing festivities. Anwar advised me that we’d wait until the show really got going, letting the excitement truly take hold. I stood with him in the plaza near the mosque and observed amazed as, literally, dozens of people came up to shake his hand, kiss his cheek, or both. The man was truly in his element in Jayousi (perhaps the launching ground of a future presidential bid?). The action intensified. A quarter sang enthusiastically to fast-paced music as young men moved into a circle, and, as an incredibly synchronized unit danced in a way that reminded me somewhat of River Dance. They locked arms and began pounding their feet furiously on the dancing platform. I wanted in.

Kindly, Anwar connected me with an older man who runs a small, animal farm across the street from Mansour’s home, which we’d briefly stopped in at earlier to take in the sights (and smells- good times). The man spoke reasonably good English and began giving me instructions as to how I could hold my own in the circle. Our arms locked, he began taking me, slowly, through the motions. When the time came to join the circle, we pounced. I eased my way into the dance, working hard to stay focused and keep pace with the young men around me. A ringleader of sorts seemed to be leading the group, ensuring that no one entered the circle at an inappropriate time and also dancing and clearly enjoying himself. Dancing, it seemed, set these folks free in a way that I’d not yet observed. Sometimes, subdued, often pensive, I’d not yet seen a group of Palestinians let loose in this manner. It was awesome, harmonious, and altogether beautiful. I feel funnily and pitifully behind in the pace but enjoyed myself tremendously. I’d just taken part, first-hand, in a Muslim wedding. I marveled at the unforgettable nature of my trip.

After joining Anwar to give a financial contribution to the groom to set him off on the right track in his marriage, I began to make the walk home. I advised Anwar to go ahead, as I’d like to take in the sights at a slower pace. At this time, something unbelievable happened. I poked my head into a small building, in which I observed a ping-pong table and two young warriors going at it, pounding the ball back in forth with the speed and precision of professionals. Anyone who knows me knows I love few things in life more than some good pong. I entered the room and, in time, made my way to the table. Restricted by language, we connected through the harmony of the game and began to move in stride, hitting the ball back and forth, back and forth. Slowly, onlookers began to trickle in off the street. By the time the game had begun, a good twenty-five adolescent and young men had crowded the ping-pong hall to observe the looming battle.

Not to toot my own horn, but I don’t lose much in ping-pong. In fact, dating back to last year, I could not recall having dropped a game (aside, ironically, from one match against a player of mine on the Gallup High School tennis team, who is, ironically, Palestinian and from Ramallah). The game developed, and the room divided roughly evenly, with nearly half the crowd supporting me, the newcomer, and the other half supporting the native son. After each point, roars came out of the enthusiastic crowd, emboldening our play and pushing us to reach deeper and deeper into our skill set. I took the aggressive, but my opponent proved to crafty and defeated my 21-16. I played freakin’ awesome, but he was too much. I made my way out of the hall on a high, hugging and shaking hands with several of the onlookers. I couldn’t believe this was happening. A Muslim wedding, ping-pong in rural Palestine- was this a dream. After being escorted by five young local residents and giving a brief commentary on the merits of Senator Barack Obama and what he would bring to the realm of foreign affairs as president, I reached Anwar’s brother’s house, brushed my teeth, closed my eyes and tried to convince myself that my dreams could be half as wondrous as the day I’d lived in the West Bank.

Posting 2: Nablus- Saturday, 05 April 2008

2008-04-13T08:51:00.001-07:00

[A word of caution: After spending eight days in Israel and the West Bank, I have many thoughts and emotions running through my head, the intensity of which I can scarcely recall having felt. Though it is difficult for me to do so, I will attempt to describe my adventures during this life-changing trip in as objective and apolitical a manner as possible. Still, here or there, an opinion of judgment may shine through that some find offensive or inappropriate. If so, my only desire is that you come to me with your concern, as opposed to shutting me down entirely. As was powerfully reinforced during my trip, I believe that it is only from open and honest dialogue that people truly resolve their differences. Please, keep this in mind as you read my account. Thank you. Enjoy.]

In honor of one of my favorite episodes of Seinfeld, unquestionably the greatest show to ever grace a television screen, I’ve decided to retell my unforgettable journey to Middle East in reverse order. Aside from paying tribute to Seinfeld and company, doing so will allow me to describe details in greater, clearer detail, as unloading my mind of the freshest memories in thoughts will lay the groundwork for a more effective relaying of events that took place during the opening days of my adventure. I hope you enjoy!

Posting 2: Nablus- Saturday, 05 April 2008

“Let’s move,” said Anwar, as he so often had over the last four days, a time filled with experiences that will, no doubt, redefine my life. Still dusting off the sleep from the previous night’s action, during which I partook in a wildly energetic bout of dancing at a Muslim dancing ceremony and humbly bowed in defeat to a talented Palestinian teenage ping-pong wizard (I lost 21-16) in front of roughly 30 people, Alicia, Amy, Anwar and I slowly made our way out of Jayousi, Anwar’s boyhood village, and made our way toward Nablus. With this being the last full day of my trip (or so I thought), I was filled with mixed emotions. I felt happy and exceedingly fortunate to have had the adventures I’d had, met the wonderful people I’d met, and learned the extraordinary and extraordinarily powerful lessons I’d learned. I felt sorry because, in a few short hours, I would leave my friends behind to make my way back to the United States. I also felt energized, motivated, tired, frustrated, in love with my experience, and lost in the task before me: perhaps it is this emotional cornucopia that clouds the mind of anyone who becomes so close to, and impassioned by a cause in need of reform as they try to discern ways in which they can best help. I wondered, and continue to wonder, whether Gandhi, Kink, or Mandela felt this way at the outset of their long journeys in pursuit of justice. I imagine they did and that, as King said, the ultimate measure of a person is how they respond in such moments of challenge and compromise. I left Jayousi with a cluttered mind.

As our car made its way from Jayousi to Nablus, we made, as all Palestinians must (Anwar is a Palestinian man), our customary stops at Israeli checkpoints. Our first attempted entry into Nablus, a bustling city of a few hundred thousand situated in a valley in between two mountains, one of which is, according to some religious traditions, rumored to be the location from which God gathered the dust to create Adam, failed. Anwar, attempting to drive his Volkswagen into the city, was stopped by guards and informed that only Palestinians with special passes, including those of acceptable non-governmental and humanitarian organizations, were permitted to pass. A wordsmith and quite charismatic though he is, Anwar was unable to talk our way into the city by car, and so we parked it in a nearby, and somewhat sketching looking lot. As we walked away from the vehicle, Anwar expressed hope that we’d find it in one piece (and with the CD player still in its place) upon our return. Insha’Allah, he said.

We made our way to the pedestrian checkpoint and passed through easily, until an Israeli guard called us back to check our passports. Alicia, Amy, and I remained quiet as he did his business, but Anwar inquired as to why we’d not been asked to give up our passports when we’d first passed through, to which the guard replied, ‘Don’t ask questions. It goes much fast that way.’

We made our way into the city by cap. Our first stop was a soap factory—yes, a soap factory. Anwar caught one of his many friends on the street (apparently, as we’d seen during our time with Anwar over the previous four days, he knows and is held in high esteem by roughly 75% of the Palestinian population!), who invited us into his factory. We saw three men hunched over sharp sticks, cutting a super-large block of soap into tiny squares to be shipped off to bathrooms across the West Bank and other locations. We also saw a giant tub of yogurt—wait, no, soap. I’d never been to a soap factory (who has?), and it was actually really cool to see how the whole operation, which appeared extremely efficient, took place. Alicia inquired about purchasing a bar, but, unfortunately, buying straight from the factory requires a minimum procurement of about 1,000 bars. Though we were probably all a little dirty at this point, that much soap just wasn’t in the cards.

We proceeded, following Anwar per the norm, and ducked into a narrow hallway that appeared out of nowhere. Shaking my head, I simply followed the man. We’d seen so many unexpected things and met so many unexpected people during our time with Anwar that this was far from the first seemingly questionable turn. Moreover, I’d developed a trust and admiration for the man that led me to conclude that following his lead was, in most cases, a good idea. Alicia asked him where we headed, to which he replied, simply, ‘Faten’.

[Faten is a micro lending bank headquartered in Ramallah with 12 branch locations spread throughout the West Bank and Gaza. It broke off from Save the Children in 1996 and receives most of its funding from the United State Agency for International Development. Despite extremely limited human and fiscal resources, Faten has thousands of clients and has turned a profit for the vast majority of its years in existence. Moreover, totally detached from government or any political party, Faten has earned a reputation as one of the most respectable institutions across the West Bank and Gaza.]

So, we made our way up one story in an elevator, emerging into a hallway and through the doors to the office. Situated at the front, like in most offices, was a receptionist, who guided us to the room of the branch and Nablus district manager, a woman who looked at once powerful, intelligent, and compassionate. She greeted us and exchanged jokes and hellos with Anwar. As in almost all homes and offices we’d been in during our time in the West Bank, we were immediately asked our preference between tea and coffee and quickly brought a hot, delicious beverage. Coffee in Israel and the West Bank, by the way, was delicious. We enjoyed two kinds. First, Turkish coffee, which comes in small portions, maybe four ounces, and is extremely, almost face-cringingly strong, but altogether intensely satisfying for lovers of good joe. Also, we found Nescafe, which is served with milk, and goes smoothly and sweetly. Mmm, mmm, mmm- delicious. On this day, after the previous evening during which we visited about half a dozen homes and were served tea or Turkish coffee in nearly of them, I opted for the Nescafe and enjoyed every drop.

Anwar and the district manager (as you’ve probably guessed, I cannot recall her name) took care of some business matters, and we joked that Anwar was in the presence of a more impressive superior, even though his position is above hers on Faten’s formal command chain. He took it in stride, but I came away thinking that the branch manager commands, so instantly, respect that she would do great things leading any bank or company.

Before long, a traditional, delicious breakfast of hummus, pita, falafel, Tibbouli (sp.?) salad, and yoghurt was served. By this point, I had had so much pita and hummus that I pretty much never wanted to eat anything else again- it’s so good! I must say that, as a vegetarian, I found the cuisine in the West Bank and Israel much to my liking. Though meat is commonly served and an essential ingredient of many customary dishes, most meals have a substantial amount of non-meat items that fill the belly and satisfy the soul.

After wrapping up breakfast, we made our way towards Nablus’ legendary ‘Old City’ market. Endless stands manned by dozens of eager mongers sold everything from pickles and olives to lotions and shampoo. The scene was bustling, with people quickly moving through the walkway, taking care of business, moving from here to there. We, too, made our way, coming out of the market in a more subdued part of town, still in Old City, however. We were on our way to what we were told was an important location in the city, one that had conjured up a great deal of ire and agony amongst the local population. After stopping several people for directions and having a young man lead us to the exact spot, we came to a lot, filled with rubble, which had apparently been a family’s home that was leveled by an Israeli military strike in 2003. We made our way through the chilling scene and came to an opening in which we found a crew taking footage. They moved toward us, and we inquired, in English, what they were doing. They replied that they were architects, surveying the lot for a project to rebuild the houses. The mood was abundantly haunting. I didn’t know how to feel. It was amazing to think that, a few years ago, a family’s home had been in this location. Now, there was just rubble- rubble.

We exited the site and, before leaving the Old City, stopped in at an amazing antique store. Some of the stuff in the shop must have been from the last Ice Age. We looked around, taking care not to break anything, though, as Alicia made a purchase, Anwar clumsily dropped a clay artifact- so much for being Superman! The shopkeeper, however, chuckled, and told us not to worry. We spent quite some time reviewing the store’s holdings. Clocks, jewelry, paintings, pots, pans, and watches- it was all here, only it had been created a time far from the present. The shopkeeper, an elderly fellow in what looked to be traditional garb, seemed otherworldly but spoke with a clarity and smile that made him very much present. Alicia made a nice purchase, and we moved.

After the Old City, Alicia, Amy, Anwar, and I hailed a cap and made our way to Jacob’s Well, which, if you know your New Testament, is the location in which Jesus, for the first time revealed himself to be the Messiah. Much to our dismay, we found the church housing the well closed, with a large gate telling us that it was not to reopen for viewing for another hour. Fortunately, Anwar asked a young boy who had cozied up to us to find someone in the housing development across the way to open the gate and let us in to see the well. As it happened, the boy was a resident of a nearby refugee camp. Refugee camps in the West Bank are entirely common, often existing in the very midst of cities and towns- amazing.

In a few moments, remarkably, one of the church’s overseers made his way to the church and, though on holiday, gave us a personal tour in excellent English. We entered the church, which was magnificent, Christian, and finished after several years of construction with, according to our guide, funds secured by former Palestinian President Yasser Arafat, a Muslim. As we’d seen throughout our trip, Christians and Muslims live together in relative peace in numerous Palestinian towns, including Bethlehem, Nablus, and Hebron, just to name a few. After taking a sip of the well’s sacred water, we thanked our gracious guide, exited the church, and hopped in a cab.

Making our way back to the Faten office, I peeled off with a young Faten accountant, who led me to an ATM. Finding an ATM in the West Bank isn’t easy, and we tried three locations before locating one that was operational. [Many Palestinian bank branches have closed in recent years due to deteriorating economic conditions in the West Bank and Gaza.] I got my money, returned to the branch, and, after bidding adieu to the office staff, we hopped in the branch manager’s car to return to the checkpoint and find our car, which, we hoped, was still in the lot and good repair.

At the checkpoint, we passed through fairly easily, though the guard asked me what I was doing in the West Bank. I replied that I was on vacation and visiting a Palestinian friend. He was visibly confused. We approached the parking lot and, thankfully, found Anwar’s Volkswagen in fine form. As we headed north on the road to Jayousi, we reflected on our pleasant day in Nablus, a city that has seen its share as agony. In fact, a movie entitled ‘Paradise Now, which depicts and describes the conditions that lead a tragic number of young Palestinians to end their lives through suicide bombings, is based in Nablus. I had that chilling thought in my mind all day as we made our way through the city, which, to the unschooled observer would have felt exactly the same as any other bustling metropolitan area.

When we reached Jayousi, we went immediately to lunch at the home of one of Anwar’s best friend’s in the village. Anwar’s friend had worked as an accountant at the same bank for which Anwar worked during his time in Saudi Arabia. After falling on hard financial times in Saudi Arabia, the man settled in Jayousi to start a grocery store, which provided him with enough to have a lovely, clean, well-stocked home, but left him, I felt, believing that his talents were being largely underutilized. We’d spoken with the man for quite some time the night before, and he’d proven himself to be incredibly knowledgeable on subjects ranging from U.S. presidential politics to the precarious state of the dollar. I was happy to have an opportunity to continue our discussion, facilitated by Anwar, who served as our translator, at lunch. Joining one of the man’s sons and his daughter, (the other had returned to a nearby city, in which he is attending university and studying to be an engineer. He says he’d like to, if possible, complete his graduate work in the U.S., as is the case for many Palestinians who feel this would offer them a better chance of finding suitable employment than remaining in the West Bank. Amy happily gave him her card and informed him of the exciting exchange programs offered by the University of Montana, where she works as an administrator.) we sat down to what can be described as nothing short of a bounty. I enjoyed tremendously the piping hot rice and fresh vegetables, as well as a well-seasoned salad. We watched the news and saw that former President Carter was planning a diplomatic mission to Damascus to hold talks with President Assad, though the report said that the Georgian leader had cancelled previously scheduled talks with members of the Hamas party, which aroused visible sorrow in Anwar and his chum. I should say that, with many people we spoke, President Carter is considered something of a savior, and his willingness to experiment with innovative diplomacy in Arab countries considered benevolent and progressive. I like the President, too, for many reasons and was pleased to be in like-minded company, given the fact that more folks than I care for in the U.S., when speaking of Carter, first discuss things like rising gas prices, stagflation, the Iran hostage crisis, and a troubled economy, instead of Habitat for Humanity, courageous election monitoring work in troubled country throughout the world, and selfless, tireless action to make the world a better place. I really like Jimmy Carter.

Our lunchtime conversation drifted back to politics, as our host grilled us on the difference between Republicans and Democrats, as well as the Iraq War. Anwar seemed tired, and I felt partly guilty for making him continue to translate for us as we conversed, however, I didn’t want to miss a great opportunity to gain perspective on the mindset of an educated person from a culture that is not my own. Gaining different cultural perspectives is one of the best parts of travel, I’m convinced. The talks went on for some time, delicious tea was served, and, after some time, we left the kind family’s home, satisfied from a long day of travel, good conversation, and meeting kind people. Nablus was great, and the final day in the West Bank even better. I can’t wait to return to this wonderful place, wherein I met open-minded, light-hearted folks greatly concerned about the well-being of others and welcoming in a way that called to mind the incredible kindness and good will I’d received from my hosts on a trip to Nicaragua last spring. Indeed, the trip was winding down, and my heart soared, bent on making a change in a positive way in the lives of those I’d met and yearning to know why, to put it simply, things are the way they are. I felt fortunate to have had such an impacting time and to have shared it with great traveling mates. The sun setting, I left Jayousi.

Jerusalem- A Day in the Holy Land (31 March)

2008-03-31T19:54:00.000-07:00

Shalom from Jerusalem, friends and family. This blog entry begins where the last one ended- arriving by bus to one of the most famed and historic cities in all the world: Jerusalem. Israeli's claim it as their capital, Muslims claim the Temple Mount within the city confines as their religions second most sacred location, and Christians from across the world flock to this holy location to see in person the place in which their savior and Messiah, Jesus Christ, is said to have been condemned, crucified, and, ultimately, ascended to Heaven. All told, Jerusalem holds tremendous relevance for the world's western religions, as well as representing the heart of one of the most contentious, significant political dynamics today in the form of the Arab-Israeli Conflict.

Entering this sacred place felt surreal. Jerusalem, our tour guide reminded us, is located atop a mountain, and, as we cleared a pass leading into the city, the Golden Dome of the Temple Mount (perhaps Jerusalem's most heralded image) came immediately into view. I remembered this site from numerous books, articles, and friends' descriptions and felt almost in awe as I saw it for myself. The expressway into the city was a wide, four-lane highway, but our leader informed us that, during the War of Independence (the name used by Jewish Israelis to describe this war), the road utilized by Israeli soldiers was a far thinner, something of a one-lane trail not navigated easily by anthing much more than, well, a small vehicle or animal. It seemed remarkable that in the various hills through which we traveled, historical battles dating to Biblical times had taken place, and I reveled in their beauty and significance.

Our bus pressed on to its first stop, the Mount of Olives. Mount Olives offers a picturesque look out over the city. Before we debussed, our driver took us to a spot where we could see all the way (looking east) into Jordan in the distance, as well as, if we looked hard enough, the Dead Sea (also to the east and a site we plan to visit in the coming days). There was an eery sense of excitement being able to peer into another country, which, in essence, represents another world relative to Israel. As is becoming more and more apparent, Israel proper is incredibly small. For example, Ramallah, where we travel this evening is no more than 15 kilometres from the center of Jerusalem. 15 KM! I could jog that in no more than 1.75 hours! Moreover, our trip from Tel Aviv was all of 60 KMs, and the Gaza Strip exists no more than one hour to our west. Egypt is not far from there and Syria and Lebanon to the northeast and northwest, respectively. It truly has hit me just how centralized I am in the midst of the pre-eminent political contest stoking the modern world. The Arab-Israeli Conflict brings to the fore a clash of cultrues between Islam and Judhaism, as well as a broader battle of ideas between the goliath of the 'West' and cultures working restlessly to preserve their strong cultures while evolving progressively into a new era. It was with these thoughts on my mind that I followed my group to the Lion's Gate, which was our entry point to Jerusalem's 'Old City', which, in many ways, represented the heart of the day's visit.

A Few Words about the 'Old City' and Jerusalem, more generally:
Jerusalem's Old City is divided up into four quarters and, at less than one-half mile in square area and the home to over 30,000 residents, is an incredibly dense piece of land. The four quarters host an Armenian population, Christian population, Jewish population, and, constituting by far the largest portion in terms of population, a Muslim population (roughly half the district's population is Muslim according to our guide). Jerusalem itself was once a moderately-sized city. When the War of Independence took place in 1948, Jordanian forces ramshackled the Jewish portion of the Old City. At this time, the entire population of Jerusalem did not exceed 250,000, whereas, today, it has well over 700,000 inhabitants. Geographically, Jerusalem, again, is situated atop the Judean Mountains and rests just over 2,000 feet above sea level. It's temperature is slightly cooler than the temperate climate of Tel Aviv, and our guide informed us that, on a day or two per year, snow comes to, and entirely shuts down, the city. He informed us, moreover, that, on these days, children greatly enjoyed a respite from school. I chuckled and looked to Alicia, saying, 'not nearly as much as their teachers!' The official stone of Jerusalem is limestone, and the official tree of Jerusalem, Israel, and the Jewish people writ large, is the olive tree, which lined the roads as we made our way into the Holy City.

We began by visiting the Church of Flagellation and Church of Condemnation, wherein Jesus is told to have been beaten by his Roman captors (recall Mel Gibson's raw account of this scene in 'The Passion of the Christ') and condemned to die by Pontius Pilate, respectively. The Church of Condemnation was not much to look at, but many folks were inside praying intensely. I had a seat with Alicia and took a good look around the historic locale. We pressed on, then, with our group, through many of the Old City's Four Quarters.

Our next stop was the acclaimed Western Wall. Thinking back to my class on the Arab-Israeli Conflict, with Dr. Bernard Reich during my sophomore year, I felt particularly excited to visit this site. For Jews, the Western or 'Wailing Wall' represents a site of tremendous significance because it surrounds Judhaism's holiest site, the Temple Mount, which is also the second most holy location for Muslims (Mecca in Saudi Arabia represents the 1st). For Jews, the Temple Mount is said to have been the place at which God gathered the dust he used to create Adam and begin human kind. Two temples have been built there throughout the ages, and a third, according to the Tradition, should be built in the future on the sites most holy site. For Muslims, the Temple Mount is claimed to be the place from which the prophet Muhammad ascended to Heaven to recieve instructions from God on beginning and spreading the Islamic Faith. It now houses two incredibly significant mosques for Muslims: the Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aqsa Mosque. Muslims control the area of the Temple Mount itself, though both the Israeli Government and Palestinian Authority claim authority over it. Still, with the area in Muslim hands, the closest that Jews can now get to praying at their holiest site is the Wailing Wall. Hence, its incredible significance to the religion.

Now, when we begin to get into the nitty-gritty of finding a meaningful, workable solution to the Arab-Israeli Conflict, one must understand that dealing with incredibly dense sites, such as those of the Temple Mount and Western Wall, and deciding which people, faith, and governments should control what, is absolutely necessay in order to please all parties. Again, this area is incredibly small- strikingly small- and to think that so much of the world's political contention stems from this particular area gave being there an incredibly powerful feeling. I stepped softly in approaching the Wall, placed a temporary, cardboard Yamukka atop my head, came to the Wall, said a short prayer, wrote a note, and stuck it one of the walls many cracks (there are thousands of these tiny notes filling the Wall). I took particular interest in observing the young Orthodox Jewish men who were engaged in intense prayer at the Wall, rocking back and forth in what is referred to as...I forgot the name of this motion- friends, help me out! As in a Synagogue, women and men are separated at the Wailing Wall, with women heading to an area on the right as you approach the wall and men to the left. Also, we happened to be there on Monday, a day on which Bar Mitzfahs are celebrated (along with Thursday) in Israel. We witnessed many happy, singing, dancing crowds pass through, and a cool thing was that everyone was throwing candy at each other within these parties, leaving small children delighting in their ability to take a bag and snatch up the spoils. I, too, took away a piece of candy that had gone astray. Good times at the Wailing Wall.

From here, we made our way through the Jewish and Christian quarters. Eventually, we came to one of the day's highlights, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (before this, we visited the Room of the Last Supper, which was in a building, the bottom of which was, at one time, a Jewish Temple, at another, a Christian sanctuary (note the use of it by Christ and disciples), and, later, was transformed into a mosque by Muslims. This place, I feel, powerfully characterizes the claim and importance of all three major Western religions to sites in the Old City. To put it plainly- each religion had literally built a site of worship on top of another. Faiths were stacked, I was floored, and we moved on). The Church of the Holy Sepulchre for several reasons. First, and perhaps foremost, this church is built on an area that used to be referred to as Golgottha Hill, at which Jesus is said to have hung from the cross, alongside Barabbas, and died to save mankind (according, of course, to Christian Tradition). As we entered the Upper Room at Golgotha, wherein you can literally situate yourself in the very space where Christ is supposed to have hung roughly 2,000 years ago, I thought of my fellow teacher, Mrs. White, whom, before I departed, literally begged me to take a picture in this cherished spot. I made sure that my friend and traveling mate, Amy, captured a photo of me placing my hand in an open space in the Upper Room (supposedly, I was touching the space where Jesus hung). It was a powerful experience, and Alicia later informed me that she felt a huge amount of heat pulsating through her entire body during the whole experience. Interesting stuff, to be sure.

From here, we went downstairs and approached a small, heavily-adourned structure, which, I learned, suppsedly covers the space wherein Joseph of Arimathea's family tomb, which housed the body of Jesus after Mary took it from Golgotha. Our guide explained that, in the time of Jesus, only wealthier families had family tombs. Jesus, being far from wealthy (remember the whole 'eye of the needle' thing), had no such family tomb, which Joseph provided for him. Now, the originial itself, our guide emphatically explained, was long gone (like so many of the other locations along our tour). It had been destroyed in one of the many battles in what is now the Old City. However, after a battle mostly destroyed the large rock into which Joseph's family tomb had been built, a ruler from antiquity (forget the name) ordered that tomb itself be preserved, due to its historical relevance to Christians. Still, in fighting that ensued in years to come, the whole of the rock, including the tomb, was destroyed, leaving nothing physical of this sacred space. Still, somehow, the site of Jesus' laying has been discerned and a massive line had formed to visit the sacred room. We skipped that and made our way towards the Jaffa Gate, from which we exited the Old City (another quick observation from the Church of the Hold Sepulchre- it's a pretty large church, most of which is controlled by the Greek Orthodox relgion, with smaller sections controlled by Catholics and Armenian Christians. Also, wondering why Armenians had established a quarter in the Old City, I asked my guide, to which he replied that it was 'simple'. Apparently, Armenia was the first country in the world to adopt Christianity as its state religion, giving it a strong connection to the Holy Land. Moreover, he suggested that another factor possibly leading to the attachment was that, according to the Bible, Noah's Ark landed at a spot that is located in modern day Armenia. Interesting stuff).

My key reflection from this day deals more with the current political significant than the area's historical relevance (two elements, which, of course, are inseperable). It seems that each of the three traditions that lay claim to portions of Jerusalem's Holy City do so for valid and good reasons. Still, with that being the case, I conclude that, because each tradition has valid claim to part of the Old City, no one faith can validly lay claim to all of the old city. Particularly with respect to Muslims and Jews, each side must realize that the other will never totally relent on its claim to Old City sights, and, if there is to be peace, each must compromise and find a solution that allows maximum access for each religion to the sites of greatest importance to them. This is, undoubtedly, an incredibly vague pronouncement on my part, but even winning acknowledgement of it has proven difficult for the most acclaimed international diplomats and political leaders. In a place of such physical beauty and historical significance, the world should hope that leaders of these warring sects can find a way to transcend the differences that divide them and unite over their beautiful, rich traditions. I feel privileged to have experienced that land at the heart of such global significance. It was a treat spending a day in the Holy City.

Cheerio,

--Daniel

P.S. Later today, we enter the West Bank, traveling to Ramallah with Anwar, Alicia's Palestinian friend and a director for a micro-lending non-profit organization based in Ramallah with six branches in the West Bank and five and Gaza. Our trip should change from this point on- I look forward to making observations about the ways in which it does.

Dispatches from Israel: Day 1 (30 March)- Tel Aviv and Yafo

2008-03-31T07:55:00.000-07:00

Shalom from the Old Jerusalem Hostel! Here's a recap of day one.

I rose early, well before the sun. Lacing up my shoes, I went over the coming run in my mind, as well as the previous day's events. I'd joined Alicia and Amy at the Old Jaffa Hostel (located in Old Town Jaffa, heralded as the world's oldest port city and dating back nearly 4,000 years) just after 8 p.m. on Sunday (9 a.m. Mountain Standard Time for those of you keeping track at home). My trip from the airport in Tel Aviv to Yafo as locals refer to it, had been less than smooth but, ultimately, enjoyable. After a sleep-filled flight from Madrid to Tel Aviv during which I got more sleep than I had for the previous 48 hours, I made my way through passport control, customs, bought a Coke, got some Sheckels (3.5/$1- the Dollar is crap), and hopped on my first bus. ALicia gave me straightforward directions to the hostel, or so I thought. After one bus switch, I arrived at the at the Tel Aviv Central Bus Station, at which I was supposed to hop on 'bus 46'. I quickly dscovered, though, that 'bus 46' made no stop at the Central Station and, after several discussions with non-English bus drivers, I realized that my best bet was to hop on 'bus 461'. Upon doing so, I explained to the driver that I wanted to get to the 'Old Jaffa Hostel' to which he replied with a look of puzzlement but said that I should get on anyway.

We headed through and then out of Central Tel Aviv. One thing that struck me right away was the high number of young people in military uniforms, both male and female (military service here is compulsory, for both genders). They mostly seemed in high spirits, heading home after a long and, I reckon, hard day of work. As we moved further and further away from the city, I began to wonder if, perhaps, I'd missed my stop. My main cue from Alicia's directions was that I needed to get off the bus at the stop just after the clocktower. The trouble was, in the hustle and bustle of the city, I feared I might have missed my cue. Still, I pressed on (I've now been on three trips abroad, and, though this is not much, I've been in unanticipated situations before- they, more often than not, seem to work out) and, fortunately, the bus driver probed other risers as to whether or not they spoke English. One did, mas o menos, and he told me that I needed to ride the bus all the way to the end of the line, get off, go down a couple of levels, and get on the 'DAN 46' bus, which I did, after a pee, coke, and bagel-like piece of bread sold to me by a jolly old baker whose shop had acquired quite an audience due to its broadcasting, on a flatscreen, T.V., of the English Premier League match between Liverpool and Everton. With that, I hopped on a bus and began to make my way through the sprawling, night-time Yafo scene. Young people lined the restaurant- and shop-filled streets. The sound of horns and music filled the cool, breezy sea-side air, which addred a salty touch to each breath. Finally, I saw my clock tower, bid the drive farewell, and made my way up the street. I stopped in with a couple of local vendors to ask for directions to the Old Jaffa Hostel, and, before long, was heading through the doors of a building that looked, and is, several hundred years old.

Amy, our other traveling mate (and Alicia's friend from Peace Corps service in The Gambia), found me in the lobby and ushered me into Room 23, which, I swear, had more charm, space, and character than any room in which I've stayed. I was quite happy to see my friends and began recounting the events of the last few hours and asked them about the beginning of their time in the city. They'd had an opportunity to walk along the boardwalk by the Mediterranean to the hotel from which our Jerusalem tour bus would depart the following morning (I'm currently writing this dispatch from that very bus (I initially wrote this with pen and am now typing at the hostel)). After a few more minutes of discussion, Alicia and I set out for a bite and a walk, while Amy made her way to the rooftop of our hostel, to which I followed her before departing with Alicia.

In sum, the rooftop was incredible. The point overlooked the city, including the sea, a large, green-glowing mosque, and the dramatic juxtaposition (to use the diction of 'Lonely Plant-Israel') of Yafo's Old City and the modern, booming metropolitan area of Tel Aviv. I felt this was a place, coccooned by a cool, pleasant breeze, where one could be free, where one could express their true feelings to another, and where one could make peace with the Earth and remain forever. Remaining forever, however, was not in th cards for me, and I quickly made my way downstairs to rejoin Alicia.

We made our way down the street and stopped in with a street-side vendor. He looked to be cooking up something delicious. Essentially, he had a stand, grill, and an array of large, sesame seed bagels, sauces (cream cheese), and vegetables, and, I saw, was combining them into a panini-like snack. I promptly ordered one and, before long, the young chef sent us on our way smiling.

We walked along the sea, towards the glowing mosque. The city stretched out before us. To the left, the Mediterranean opened up and seemed to continue infinitely. It was a soft, exquizite scene. The embrace of old buildings with their timeless, original walls, the sea, and surrounding gardens brought joyu to the cuddling couples who made their ways near us along the walk.

We proceeded, discussing the good fortune we'd had in planning and, now, making this trip. We remarked on the numerous cats that rushed along the streets (I was reminded of Church Rock and the endless flow of dogs that visit us and, at times, our classrooms) and stopped to observe and enjoy an Arabic wedding taking place at a shore-side restaurant--music, dancing, sheer excitement, and joy.

Both of us felt joy and a sense of wonder at the things to come, and, as I laced up Adidas the following morning and prepared to run, I knew that this trip represented another opportunity to grow, learn, and develop. I need to get tougher, stronger, smarter, and more appreciative. Journeying in the Middle East, I think, will be a major and positive step toward this significant goal.

Shalom, good friends! We've arrived in Jerusalem. In the next posting, I'll have a tale of our dynamic and fast-paced visit to the Old City and its many historic sites. Until then, take care!

Cheerio,

--Daniel

Israel- here I come

2008-03-27T19:21:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is the day. I'll leave Gallup on the wings of a restored, refreshed Sophie and make my way toward Albuquerque's International Sunport. After more than a week of challenge and triumph, in which my car gave way and I had to call upon the graces of committed and concerned friends, I feel strengthened, more hardy, and increasingly appreciative of the value of good friends.

Also, making a new friend from a land far away adds an intensity to my new found excitement that I can scarcely contain. I can't wait to see where this leads. Wherever it does, this special person challenges me in an enhancing and enriching way. Why and how did we meet? I don't know, but I'm glad we did. Life enchants.

Israel awaits. We start Sunday afternoon in Tel Aviv, and will stay at the Jaffa House (hostel). I'll meet up with my travel companions, Alicia (former guest blogger) and her friend and former Peace Corps chum, Amy, at that time. From there, Alicia and I will head for Jerusalem by bus, while Amy does some recruiting for her university in Tel Aviv. We'll spend the 1st in Jerusalem and will be joined by Amy that day. On the 2nd, we'll meet up with Anwar, Alicia's friend, who is a Palestinian man living in Ramallah and a director for a micro-finance non-profit through the Palestinian territories (West Bank and Gaza). We'll head with him to various cities in the West Bank, including Nablus, Hebron, and Jericho, one of the world's oldest cities. We will also make our way through the city in which Anwar grew up and, eventually, make our way to Ramallah. We will spend a day, essentially, job shadowing Anwar, which, to be honest, sounds like one of the funnest elements to me. After this, we'll spend some time at the Dead Sea, bathing in its healthy and salty waters. I hear it's great for the skin. Skinny dipping? We'll see.

On the 5th, I'll make my way, by bus, from Ramallah to Tel Aviv for my flight home. I have many thoughts on this trip. In sum, I feel incredibly fortunate to be going. So many folks have informed me, during our discussions on this coming journey, of their life long desire to visit the Holy Land. This morning, I chatted with an elder woman who works at Gallup's Glenn's Bakery (a must visit if you come here), who expressed this desire. I felt honored and privileged to have the ability at 22 to do what she's wanted to do for a lifetime. I think the best way for me to honor her is by soaking it all up and appreciating the trip to the fullest extent possible. After the experience I've had over the last 8 days, both basking in the glory and wonderment of having caring friends and becoming endearingly close to a new friend, I feel like life is an open book, and we live it to become stronger. When I report back, hopefully a week-plus in Israel will have taken this important process to a newly elevated level.

Shalom.

--Daniel

An Adventure in the Middle East

2008-03-16T11:39:00.000-07:00

On 29 March, I leave for Israel. I will spend eight days traveling through the country, as well as the Occupied Territories in the West Bank with a good friend (and former guest blogger), Alicia Fitzpatrick, as well as one of her close friends, Amy. We arrive in Tel Aviv on the afternoon of 30 March and will spend the night in that city. The next day, Alicia and I will travel by bus to Jerusalem and spend the day enjoying and seeing the city’s many remarkable sites of historical and contemporary significance. We will spend 01 April doing the same, staying the night on that day, as well. On 02 April, Alicia’s friend and former co-student in the University of Southern New Hampshire’s masters program in international development, Anwar, who serves as a director for a non-profit microfinance organization based in Ramallah with 11 branches within the Occupied Territories (6 in the West Bank and five in the Gaza Strip) will meet us in Jerusalem and take us back to his home in Ramallah. With him, we will make important stops in Nablus, Hebron, and Jericho, each of which promises to hold a unique and informative experience both on the history of the region, as well as the evolution of the Arab-Israeli Conflict, which, unfortunately, burns just as fiercely today as it ever has. During the remainder of my trip, we will make stops in Bethlehem and also spend a day basking in the glory of the Dead Sea. I hear that the waters of this, the lowest elevated body of water in the world, has sensational cleansing power for the skin, and I look forward to reporting back with first-hand testimony at the conclusion of my voyage.

All told, this trip should be remarkable in many regards. First, the Arab-Israeli Conflict arguably constitutes the most significant dynamic in contemporary international affairs, with its impact affecting power relations amongst countries in the Middle East and stretching across the world. Secondly, the importance of this region in world history is unparalleled. I cannot wait to observe the religious sites of Jerusalem, which marks one of the most relevant settings for the Western World’s three major religions: Islam, Judaism, and Christianity. Finally, growing up in the U.S. we receive a perspective of the Conflict which focuses predominantly on the security struggle of Israeli’s and that state’s ongoing battle to solidify its existence as an independent country. What we hear less about is the plight of Palestinians in places like the West Bank, Gaza, as well as Arab-Israelis, the discrimination against whom is powerful, but not as widely reported in the U.S. media as that facing Israeli citizens and the Israeli state, more generally. I look forward to experiencing all of these things first-hand and feel exceedingly fortunate to have the opportunity to take a trip that will shape my thinking on the world in a profound way for years to come. Stay tuned for updates.

1st Annual Dr. John Nasi Memorial Tennis Scramble Takes Gallup by Storm

2008-03-03T20:39:00.000-08:00

1^st Annual Dr. John Nasi Memorial Tennis Scramble Takes Gallup by Storm

Thirty-one tennis players from as far away as Austin, Texas hit the courts on Saturday, March 1^st at Ford Canyon Park in Gallup for the 1^st Annual Dr. John Nasi Memorial Tennis Scramble.

Hosted by the Gallup High School Tennis Team, the tournament was initially envisioned as a way to build awareness of the Bengal tennis program in the community, as well as raise money for equipment, clothing, and travel. As the booster club began to discuss the event, however, it realized that an opportunity existed to create something far more meaningful.

Dr. John Nasi worked in Gallup for many years and was known as one of the city’s leading supporters of tennis, especially the high school’s program. Unfortunately, last year, Dr. Nasi passed away, leaving dozens of players without a mentor and scores more without a good friend. With this in mind, the booster club decided to dedicate the tennis tournament to this remarkable man as a way to immortalize his commitment to tennis in our community.

The scramble featured local players, as well as some who traveled in from Grants and Albuquerque to participate. Three of Dr. Nasi’s relatives traveled in to take part in the event, with two coming from the Duke City and one flying in from Austin. Players broke into foursomes and, throughout the day, each played three sets, one with each of the three other members in their group. Competitors kept track of the total amount of games they won, and everyone walked away with a prize, which were donated from local businesses. Rob Lloyd, a local player, took the day’s top prize, winning 20 games in three sets of play, while Gallupians Mark Gartner and Erin Black took away the second and third place crowns with 19 and 17 games won, respectively.

Tournament attendees endured a scary moment early on in the day when Grants native James Gaddy tripped while moving backwards for an overhead. Despite a cut on his head, which prompted a quick call for an ambulance, Mr. Gaddy was on his feet in no time and able to leave the park of his own accord.

All told, the day was characterized by great tennis, high spirits, and immaculate weather. The GHS Bengal Tennis Team plans to make the Dr. John Nasi Tennis Scramble a perennial event and is also considering forming another tournament to take place during the summer, as well as possible league play for the summer months. The strong enthusiasm for this year’s tournament indicates the level of excitement for tennis within our community, and the GHS Tennis Team plans to lead the charge in showing that tennis is both alive and well in Gallup, New Mexico!

When Class Trumps Class

2008-02-23T19:00:00.000-08:00

A recent incident at a local, elementary school basketball tournament evidences the painful reality that, even today, our society has not ridden itself of sharp class distinctions and the unattractive offshoots that come with them. My name is Daniel Balke, and I teach 4^th and 5^th grade at Church Rock Academy Elementary School, just east of Gallup. Though Church Rock is one of Gallup-McKinley County Schools’ lowest-income educational locations, we have an immensely talented teaching staff, passionate and experienced administrators, and, most importantly, enthusiastic, intelligent, and wildly capable young people. As a first-year student, I have found my calling in working to give my students all the opportunities I had growing up in an upper-middle income household and having teachers who gave everything they had to guaranteeing a bright future for me. In sum, as a 22-year-old, I’ve found myself in my students. They’re everything to me, and when they hurt, I hurt.

It was with great concern, then, that I learned of an unfortunate exchange between one of my fifth graders and the coach of the Red Rock Elementary School boys’ basketball team. After a hard-fought semifinal contest, in which a talented Red Rock squad overcame the best efforts of the Church Rock Bulldogs, team members formed lines to congratulate each other on a well-played game. Unfortunately, a Church Rock team leader, who also happens to be one of the top-performing academic students at our school, not to mention president of the 5^th grade, passed by the Red Rock coach without extending his hand for a handshake.

Clearly, we work to teach our students to be good sports in times of win and, especially, in times of defeat and were unhappy to hear that our young leader made the decision he did. Still, the behavior of the Red Rock Elementary coach, a role model for her players and ambassador for one of the best-performing (and highest per-capita income) schools in our district, was entirely unbecoming of a responsible adult. She approached our young player and derided him for his choice not to shake her hand, explaining that he was without manners or good judgment. Soon thereafter, the Church Rock boys coach found our young player in the bathroom in tears. He did not mean to insult the Red Rock coach or cause her distress. Even if he had, should we not expect a responsible adult to first come to another adult regarding her concern, rather than take her frustration out on someone who’s not even their teenage years?

Unfortunately, things grew uglier from there. Our player’s mother, learning of the Red Rock coach’s words and her son’s reaction, approached the coach to make her point. She lost her cool, and a shouting match ensued. While our parent was not correct in losing her temper, her objections were limited to the fact that the Red Rock coach had made her young son cry. It is difficult to imagine any parent not showing similar concern for their own child. Unfortunately, the Red Rock coach decided to take the exchange to an altogether despicable level. As tempers escalated, she referred to our mother as ‘uneducated’, an insult clearly stemming from the economic status of the Church Rock community and an elitist diatribe based in nothing more than unfounded suppositions.

What do we teach our young people when we assume people to be uneducated simply because of the color of their skin or economic position? Do we teach tolerance, acceptance, and a celebration of the unique backgrounds that characterize every family, or do we teach a dangerous complacency in the comfort of our own socioeconomic status and a disinterest in the plight of those less fortunate than us? I’ve lived in a comfortable economic position my whole life. I went to a prestigious university in Washington, D.C. But one of the most important lessons I’ve learned along the way is that there exists little correlation between economic status and one’s natural intelligence, but there exists a blindingly obvious connection between elitism and the perpetuation of appalling classism that prevents a more harmonious, understanding society from taking root. When class in an economic sense trumps class in terms of character, nobody wins. At Church Rock, we teach the importance class- I’d expect the folks at Red Rock to do the same.

8 out of 10 and the meaning of life

2008-02-15T21:17:00.001-08:00

This is the one I've been waiting to write.

David is a ten-year old 4th grader in my homeroom class. His social skills, though, are more akin to those of a second grader, and, as one of three non-Navajo students in a school of over 275, he faces a daily barrage of emotional and, often, physical thrashing.

Academically, David struggles, as well. His motor skills are atrocious and his organizational prowess equally concerning. A hard worker, David still struggles to keep up with the class in terms of completing and turning in assignments. Everyday is a battle for David in my classroom.

However, David is also an incredibly caring and kind young person. In fact, he single-handedly ensures that the question I hear more frequently than any other during the day is, 'Mr. Balke, can I have a hug?' An eager participator, David is never short on comments or effort to contribute to classroom activities and discussions. I always enjoy seeing David's smiling face.

David is a recent arrival in Navajo Nation. His anglo father, a Kentucky native, married a Navajo woman over the summer and relocated his three children, both of whom I also have as students, to Navajo Country. Last year, David attended a Christian school in Carlsbad, New Mexico, wherein he, his family, and school community developed an 'Individual Education Plan', which enabled him to receive focused care and instruction through the special education process. Unfortunately, in a series of still unclear, and altogether shady, incidents, David's IEP and any significant records thereof, were lost in the move, leaving him without recourse for the attention he needs to succeed in the school environment. From the first day David entered my room, I felt we would struggle every bit of the way to bring him up to par. This initial inclination has proven painfully true.

As the year's progressed, David and I have scraped and clawed our way in the direction of academic success. And, slowly, we've seen some signs of progress. Spelling scores improved, handwriting became clearer, papers and other school materials started to come back from the home- in his own way, David was clearly moving in the right direction. Notwithstanding, when I introduced this week's batch of spelling words to students and announced that our 'big goal' would be for every one of them to earn at least an 8 out of 10, I couldn't help feeling surprised and, perhaps cast aside as a bit unrealistic at this point, David's bold question of what would happen if he were to get a 10 out of 10. Still, I replied that that would be great, and off we set to work toward our 80% mark, which we call proficiency.

Through two practice tests, it became clear that 8 out of 10 would be a struggle for David, let alone achieving the 10 for 10 dream number. He seemed up-beat, though, about his chances, and held on to his list of words. He informed me, moreover, that he'd been studying at home with his family and felt good about his chances for the test. So, when 8:05 arrived this morning and, with it, our big test, I was curious to learn just how far David had really come.

The test came and went in a flash. My students skipped on to their next class, and, after setting the 5th graders to work on a writing assignment, I got to work grading homeroom spelling tests. About half-way through, I arrived at Mr. David's. The first thing I noticed was the relative clarity of his handwriting. Each letter was separated, and I recognized exactly which ones he intended to write. David started off strong, spelling paragraph perfectly and with wonderful penmanship. 'P-a-r-a-g-r-a-p-h'- you got it dude! One for one. Our second word, strategy, posed a bit of a problem, and David's response was one letter off- one for two. Word three was also narrowly misspelled, again one letter in the wrong spot serving as the culprit. '1 for three' I said in my mind, sighing as myu excitement shifted toward resignation that proficiency for David would have to wait at least one more week. Then, David got hot- real hot.

'Article'- no problem. 'Author'- a breeze! 'Continue'- are you kidding? 'Illustration'- holy cow! Through ten words, and after one more hiccup, David was sitting at 7 of 10, one short of his goal of eight. I offer my students one bonus word per week- a chance to test their skills and improve their score. David had one more shot at meeting his big goal. The word was 'accurate', a common word with a double-c combo that had given even my top-performing students trouble all week. My eyes moved across David's eleventh line deliberately. 'A'- good; 'c', ooook; 'c'- yes, got the hard part; 'u', half way home; 'r'- could we really...; 'a', oh, dude- 't', one more!; 'e'- HE DID IT!!! I think my fifth grade class thought I'd gone insane because I'd never expressed such a loud and seemingly out of nowhere burst of emotion in front of them before (and I tend to be fairly animated). I wanted to run next door to Mr. Mendrop's to break the good news to David, myself. I thought of his dad, who'd been in for half-a-dozen meetings regarding David's problems and progress so far this year, wanting so badly for his son to excel, spending countless hours with him, his other daughters, and new wife and step-son talking about goals, discipline, and hard work. I pictured him posting David's test on the refrigerator and, more clearly, I pictured David's smile as he handed the test to his dad. I saw the irrepressible joy, the sheepish grin, the sense of pride- 'I did it, dad!'. That's exactly what I wrote on his paper, clearly, and with red marker- 'You did it!!'.

Some would say this is not meaningful. Some would call it just a lucky test, not entirely relevant in the grander scheme of David's life. But for one small moment on a cold February day, young David, my student, learned what it was like to own the universe. You're right, David- two a's, two c's, a 'u', an 'r', 't', and 'e'- you were as accurate as anyone can be. Right now, in this moment, the world is yours.

So, when they tell you that, together, we can't achieve great things, when they scoff at the ability of every child to excel academically, and when they say that some things are just not possible, think of David. Can we do anything? Can we move mountains? Yes, we can, folks. Yes, we can.

Ecstatically,

--Mr. Balke

The Contours of Privilege and The Trip That Wasn't

2008-02-01T20:40:00.000-08:00

This afternoon, on my way to a campaign event in Santa Fe for Senator Barack Obama with good friend and fellow Obamaniac, Alicia Fitzpatrick, my dear Sophie suffered a blow-out. Sophie, a beautiful, well-conditioned '92 Mazda MPV minivan, was going steadily along I-40 when, all of a sudden, a large burst and bump occurred, and it quickly became soon that a rear tire had given way, and it was up to the two of us to steady the vehicle were we to maintain safety. Thankfully, we successfully slowed Sophie and were able to steer her to the side of the road. The first thought when the tire gave way, and I later, at a happier time, confirmed this with Alicia, was one of survival- O.K.; the tire has burst; how can we maintain safety. However, after slowing to a stop, a blessed occurrence, to be sure, the reality that we'd not be seeing our beloved Senator in our home state quickly set in, driving home a strong sense of melancholy over what might have been.

This posting, however, is not of regret. It's about a powerful realization that the afternoon and early evening's events conjured in my mind, that is, the great privilege and luxury my status as a middle class U.S. citizen affords me. It is, in fact, the privilege that the candidate I've chosen to support for president works everyday of his life works to bestow on those who've gone voiceless in this country for far too long. It is a reflection that Alicia and I uncovered later in the night, as we made our way back to Ramah, New Mexico after a long, and what turned out to be an extremely enjoyable evening.

After settling to a stop on the shoulder of I-40, roughly 40 miles outside of Albuquerque, my thoughts never turned to panic. Indeed, I knew that Alicia and I would be taken care of. Indeed, the notion that we'd not have the resources necessary to get us to safety and, eventually, a warm and safe stopping for the night never entered my mind. As a citizen of, and licensed drive in, the State of New Mexico, I am required to own auto insurance. My salary as an employee of the Gallup-McKinley Schools System allows me to purchase a policy that provides 'roadside assistance', meaning that I can call for a toe-truck and feel assured that I will be reimbursed for all costs of the service, as well as labor that goes into replacing a damaged tire (by the way, if some are wondering why I did not simply add the spare, I just comment that driving on an interstate on a sixteen-year-old spare did not seem sufficiently safe to either of us; moreover, the wheel is quite difficult to access, and we simply thought it a better move to call for a toe, again, and as I'll continue to illustrate in this posting, a resolution borne of our economic privilege).

I immediately reached for my cell phone, service for which my salary allows me to afford, even though I regularly go over my allowable calling and text messaging limit, which yields significant extra costs. I dialed the number of my State Farmer Agent, and, like neighbors, they were there. After some maneuvering on both ends, I connected with Route 66 towing in Grants, New Mexico. By this point, Alicia and I figure it would be more sensible to try to make it back to our respective homes- we were not going to get to Santa Fe to see the Senator and the thought of proceeding to Albuquerque seemed without reason, and, at least in my mind, might have made powerfully clear how close we'd come to the speech. Speaking with the operator at Route 66, I quickly realized I had no way of letting her know exactly where we were, as we'd not stopped near a mile marker. As a result, Alicia and I got out of Sophie and headed in opposite directions, seeking a mile posting. Minutes later, Alicia called me and said that a police officer had pulled over, told her the mile marker, and that I should start heading back. Moments later, the officer was just behind me, waiting with a smile to return me and Alicia to my injured minivan (if Sophie's personification disturbs some in the reading audience, all I can say is that, if you'd experienced her charming appearance and mind-blowing performance, you'd bask in her glory and think her much more than a vehicle, as well!).

After roughly an hour of rich discussion, during which Alicia reflected fondly of times spent traveling around Africa and, more specifically, an incredibly economical safari through Tanzania, D.J., our Route 66 tow-man and new-found friend, arrived to return us and our ailing minivan to Grants. Happy to be making progress, Alicia, D.J., and I headed west.

As we made our way toward Grants, we discussed coming to terms with, indeed becoming aware of, the privilege and guilt associated with being white in the United States. She reflected on and described times in her early childhood when she remembers having felt incredibly lucky for the color of her skin. I recalled one of my first days of school at Hillrise Elementary in Las Cruces, New Mexico, when a peer of mine named Ruben pushed me down and exclaimed annoyedly, 'white boy!' Before this point, I'd known that I was, indeed, white, but I'd never had my race called out so blatantly into the open, and, more importantly, never had I experienced my race used in an aggressive way against me. It was my first taste both of the disgusting discimination faced by myriad minority and other disaffected groups in this country, whom, for reasons entirely beyond their control, experience a lack of opportunity and equal footing, as well as the privilege attached to my whiteness, which, in most settings in this country, allows one to do whatever she or he pleases and have the expectation that she or he will be able to do so.

Once we reached the tiny town of Milan, New Mexico, just outside of Grants, a group of young, hard-working used tire salesmen greeted us and said they'd have us back on the road in no time. It was getting on 6:30, and I was quite relieved that these fellas had waited past the close of the business day to send us on our way. Alicia and I were parched and aiming for a drink, and we rejoiced at the welcome sight of an 'Allsups', New Mexico's de facto official convenience store, near-by. First, though, I had to square up with D.J. The towing bill was hefty, upwards of $200, but, again, I was able to pay the tab without a second thought, using a debit card, and knowing that, on Monday, I'd turn in the receipt at State Farm and begin the process toward a full refund. Again, my privileged economic status afforded me a peace of mind not enjoyed by millions of folks right here in this country. I wondered how their path, from blowout to Grants, would have differed from mine. Would they have had the means of getting a tow-truck? Could they have paid without suffering a severe financial setback? My mind raced.

Everyone should have the privilege of spending a Friday night in a gas station. As I dined on a dinner of Diet Coke and Rold Gold Pretzels, Alicia sippered her Allsup's coffee and told me of her grandfather, who'd served in WWII before moving into a successful career with EPA. I stated to Alicia my belief that, quixotically, the EPA had been created under the Nixon Administration. At first, she dismissed it, but then, after thinking more and becoming less and less sure, called a few family members to set the story straight. Imagine her surprise when her father confirmed that, indeed, the environmental watchdog had been created by Nixon, not exactly your champion of liberal causes.

Before long, an employee of the tire center entered Allsups and gave us word that Sophie was bandaged up and ready to go (much as Alicia and I had been fired up and ready to go a few hours before as we made our way toward Santa Fe and Obama). We returned to the shop, and I went inside to settle with my saviors of the evening. Happily, they handed me a bill that said "$28.33"- tire and labor included. My first thought was happiness at the incredibly reasonable price, rather than what it probably should have been- what, exactly, is the nature of this 'tire'?! Fortunately, one of the gentleman, after giving me some words on checking my vehicle before making a substantial road trip, assured me that he'd put a 'good tire' on Sophie, and that I should be fine. As I removed my debit card to pay the fellas, they informed that they only took cash, and I'd have to drive down the road to an ATM to settle up.

As I pulled out some items from my wallet to serve as collateral while I made my way to the ATM, I wondered again what I would have done if I did not have any money in my account or access to an ATM close by. Could I have gotten my car out of the shop? How would I have made my way home? What do folks without these options do? Again, I realized that I've never had to seriously entertain these notions because my financial status and privilege provided the security to avoid them. Again, my mind raced.

As Alicia and I hit the road back to her home near Ramah, we talked and talked and talked. I realized that, all in all, it had been an incredible, adventurous, and, yes, quite enjoyable night. We'd not seen the Senator by whom we feel ever so mystified, but each of us had a strange suspicion that we'd see him soon as a candidate for the presidency seeking to win New Mexico in the general election. The momentum Senator Obama has generated in the last few weeks and, more concentratedly, since his big win in South Carolina represents subject matter for another posting. However, each of us had a happy night- we'd had valuable conversation and learned a lot about one another. I'm happy to have shared the experience with Alicia and look forward to traveling to Israel and the West Bank with her over Spring Break.

The most important development of the evening, however, was the exposure I had to my economic privilege. As I drove home, the world opened up to me. I saw the Zuni Mountains before me and open land in every direction. I basked in the beauty of my native New Mexico. We truly are a lucky people in this state. The silent radio allowed my mind to wander, and I continued to reflect upon why I should have access to so much comfort and security, while others scrounge daily for some semblance of a safe existence. As I neared Highway 602, which would lead me the final stretch back to Gallup, I saw two cards pulled over on the side of the road, hazards on, clearly incapable of driving on. There was no tow-truck, just a couple of individuals outside, toiling in the frigid winter air. I wondered if they would make it to a warm bed later that night, and who would be there to greet them when they did. I wondered if they felt anger over their situation and marveled at the disparity between the way my situation had played out (i.e., waiting in a warm car for a tow-truck, riding back to a service station in the cab of a warm tow-truck, utilizing insurance to pay for the tow and the replacement of my tire, and driving home quickly and safely in my revamped Sophie) and the way in which their's seemed to be developing. I conclude, I think, that this disparity should alarm me. But alarm is not a bad thing unless it fails to move you to action. I have many reasons for wanting to make this world a more just, equitable place. I'm thankful that yesterday afternoon, evening, and night served as further motivation for this cause. Thanks for reading.

Guess blogger- Alicia Fitzpatrick

As the sun sank below the mesas I took a deep breath and became aware of my feet standing on the Earth for the first time since summer. That one moment of absolute grounding and connection with nature was already worth the blowout. I turned to face I-40 and quietly giggled to myself at the irony as I climbed back in Sofie.

Just earlier this week, Daniel and I engaged in a gmail chat about reason. We both believe that most things in life happen for a reason. I wondered if this was going to be an event that would fall under the “most” category or if this was just a random event that Daniel would get a good blog out of.

When it happened I had a stream of thoughts, “Wow, so this is what a blowout is like. There goes another chance of seeing Obama. I don’t even feel it. It must be a back tire. I thought it would be louder. Is there smoke coming from the tire? Yes! Wow! Daniel has really good control of the car. Is he going to pull over soon? I wonder how he is going to handle this situation. Is he going to remain cool? Will he get frustrated? I guess I will find out!” And so began a critical period of watching Daniel as he called the insurance and tow companies. Of course I was interested in how he handled an unforeseen potentially stressful situation because of our upcoming trip to the Middle East! He remained cool!

I had been looking forward to our road trip to Santa Fe, but I welcomed the unforeseen adventures that would unfold throughout the night. It turned out to be a night of firsts. I experienced my first blowout, a ride in the back of a police truck and in a tow truck, and I walked down I-40 with vehicles going past at 90 mph. But what I enjoyed the most was the conversation. With DJ driving the tow truck towards Grants we discussed our identities and privileges and their implications on the lives that we impact everyday as teachers on the Navajo and Zuni reservations. Discussing the construction of identity isn’t easy, but it is necessary to become comfortable with our privileges and to use them to create situations and experiences to empower others. I believe that is one of the most important roles as teachers.

Aside from having a great conversation and a few “firsts” I have to wonder if our course changed something in the lives of those we crossed that night. Two older Navajo women pulled over to see if we were ok, the Laguna police officer drove to us in response to a call, DJ drove the tow truck, the men at the tire shop stayed open to fix the tire, and Landon—a friend of Daniel’s—got our preferential seating at the Obama rally. Did our blowout change the course of any or all of these people? Or was this a message, a reminder, to Daniel and I about the importance of human connections? Was it a little of both? I like to think so.

All in all the night was a blast. Many laughs and stories were shared. And I have confidence that I will see Obama someday, but will probably use my car to get there! Daniel, we couldn’t make it to Santa Fe, but we will make it to the Dead Sea!

Fast times, good times, and times to come- a week in the life

2008-01-26T23:27:00.000-08:00

Obama:
Tonight, we celebrate a tremendous victory. Our candidate of hope, our candidate of change, and our candidate of a more progressive future for this country has scored an incredible win in the state of South Carolina, defeating Democratic Rival Hillary Clinton by nearly a 2-1 margin. John Edwards finished third in this, his birth state. Senator Obama's continued focus on positive issues and his desire to heal a country badly beaten by seven years of divisive politics resonated with the voters of the Palmetto State, and his willingness to move aside and brush off continued misinformation campaigns threatening his patriotism, vision for the country, and devotion to an equitable future illustrate once more just how much this special leader means to our future. We now role on to Super Duper Tuesday with hopes of the momentum of tonight's huge accomplishment carrying through to the 05 February electoral players, which include 22 states and the American Samoa. Here in Northwestern New Mexico, we're doing our party to create victory for Senator Obama, with Gallup for Obama calling and knocking on the doors of hundreds of Democratcs. A staffer from the natonal campaign arrived in Gallup on Thursday charged with turning out vote for the Senator on Caucus Day. We're stoked to have her on our team, and she will bring much needed support in terms of organization, materials, and motivation. Also, Senator Obama will travel to New Mexico on Friday, speaking in both Albuquerque and Santa Fe. I hope and plan to attend both events!

Church Rock Steel Drum and Native American Flute Band Invited to Perform at the National Museum of the American Indian:
We recently received exciting news that the Church Rock Elementary School Steel Drum and Native American Flute Band has been invited to perform at the National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, D.C.! Under the tutelage of first-year band director Randy Markham, the young people of the ensemble have made incredible strides over the past four months. In addition to performing for parents and the Church Rock community at the school and Chapter House, the group also made appearances at an inter-tribal conference in Albuquerque and will travel to Santa Fe on February 7^th to play in front of the New Mexico Public Education Department. CRE Steel Drum Band members represent everything we try to foster in our students- discipline, open-mindedness, and a strong sense of culture.

A trip to Washington, D.C. to play at NMAI, we think, would be unforgettable and have a profound impact in the lives of our young people. In addition to performing at one of the most stories museums in our country, CRE students would have the opportunity to observe and study the U.S. political system in an incredibly up-close and personal manner, leaving them with a real and inspiring perspective of how the process works, as well as ways in which they can become more deeply involved. To be sure, such an experience could develop into a formative influence in their future academic plans and inspire them to reach for things they never before thought possible.

Good Times on Local Access T.V.

On Wednesday evening, I joined Teach For America New Mexico's Executve Director and a fellow Corps Member to take part in a discussion on a local access T.V. show called 'This Week in Gallup' regarding TFA, its mission in Gallup, and progress it has made to date. We enjoyed a good talk and represented our organization and schools well. I also made a plug for Earl's, a famous local restaurant, as well as discussing my background and what go me in to teaching. Prior to the show, we engaged with the host, a charming woman who has lived in NM all her life, in a chat on the state of the Democratic primary race. She claimed that Obama simply has too many of the 'same old people' on his team and did not have the 'juice' to get things done in Washington. Clearly, I took her to task on both counts. She was a wonderful lady, and we enjoyed the opportunity to promote TFA and our thoughts on Gallup on her program.

Sleep Deprivation Takes Hold:
I'm freakin' tired!

Bloc Party:
Bloc Party is a British band I've gotten quite into lately. Take a look, if you get a chance:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PC25rvSFxIk
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=52jWkrfjakk
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vdkmhquF60o

There's much more folks. Know, however, that I enjoy the constant, oft frantic nature of my life here. I find fortune in the opportunity to participate in, and contribute to a number of important causes. You each have played a large role in giving me the chance to do so. Thank you.

Fired up and on the go in Gallup,

--Daniel

A Weekend to Remember

2008-01-21T15:05:00.000-08:00

My recent trip to Washington, D.C. provides numerous lessons, memories, and challenges that will stay with me well into the future. I experienced the rush, joy, and exhaustion of a campaign run the right way. I learned what it means to be at the heart of a campaign team, and to bear the burden of carrying the hopes and ambitions of a team that has poured its heart out working for you. Some say burden has a bad connotation, but this need not be, and I used the burden I felt as a candidate to drive my efforts during the campaign. I became more familiar with the thrills of a debate, the wonderment of learning the hopes, talents, and challenging questions of the voters with whom I spoke, and, more than anything, gained an enhanced understanding of what it means to be called to serve and the mentality once must take to public service. Indeed, as I sit here in a corner booth at the airport in Denver, I reflect upon a series of days that will inform both my immediate future plans, as well as those longer-term hopes, goals, and motivations that I hope and expect will empower me to make a meaningful difference in my community and in our world.

Thursday- let the games begin!

After a morning of returning to the campus of George Washington University, my alma mater, to hold interviews with seniors as an alumni recruiter for Teach For America, I cabbed across a snowy Washington, D.C. to meet with Front-Line Leaders Academy staff and head to the headquarters of People For The American Way, a progressive political advocacy organization dedicated to creating a more just, equitable society by empowering leaders from across the country to inspire progressive change in their communities, whether as elected officials, community organizers, or other modes of activism. After arriving at PFAW, I was taken to a library room in which I was to tape my ‘stump speech’ for the weekend’s FLLA election. Stump speeches reveal to voters a candidate’s central message and outlines exactly why they are the best person to serve in the position for which they are running. Having tinkered with the text of my speech on the way to D.C., I was unsure of how it would come out, however my focus was fluidity and ingenuity. After a couple of takes, I found the groove and delivered what I felt to be a clear and compelling campaign into what I was all about as a candidate and exactly why I believed I could best represent their interests as the PFAW’s 2008 Youth Ambassador.

Upon returning to our hosting hotel, I immediately returned to my room to prepare for the conference’s opening reception, at which the four candidates for PFAW’s Youth Ambassador position would be formally introduced to voters and campaign activities would officially begin. The reception was held at the headquarters of the National Educators Association. As a first-year teacher, I felt at home in the friendly confines of the NEA as a series of enthusiastic and articulate speakers kicked off conference activities. In an atrium with roughly two hundred fellows from one of FLLA’s sister programs, Young People For, which is also under the broad PFAW umbrella, I enjoyed going around the room, introducing myself to the young leaders in attendance and learning as much as I could about the passionate ways in which they were working to affect positive change in their communities.

Amongst them, many stand out in my mind. John Scott currently attends school at Lincoln University in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and is a member of a group called ‘Lincoln People For’, which is working at a grassroots level to e power individuals near the university to improve their living conditions. I learned about Maya Torralba, an activist, educator, and, perhaps most importantly, mother, who is currently campaigning to become the next state representative from Oklahoma’s 56 Legislative District. Maya and I had a wonderful discussion. She has spent significant time in Navajo Nation (including in Church Rock, New Mexico, where I teach, and was actually familiar with my school!), as well as on other Native American reservations across the Southwest and in her native Oklahoma. Maya inspired me with her passion and driven approach to service. She would also become a better friend as the weekend progressed.

After an evening of meeting new and interesting people, getting the message out about our campaign and its main message, ‘deeply rooted’, my team and I took a slow, cold stroll back to our hotel and called it a night. Day one on the trail had gone well. We retired to our beds hopeful and fired up for day two, which would prove to be the most significant of the campaign.

Day two was big. We woke up early, headed over to the NEA and began setting up campaign posters. Breakfast time was great, as I circulated the room and met dozens of fellows from all over the country, including a lively and diverse group from the Lone Star State. They talked to me about education, immigration, and human rights, as well as the incredibly impressive projects they lead in their communities to promote those issues. I was becoming enchanted by the multitude of backgrounds of YP4 fellows and feeling increasingly inspired by the change young people like them and those in my own fellowship program, FLLA, can create.

Sitting through sessions, I felt squirmish. I knew that the day’s, indeed the campaign’s, most critical event would be the coming debate, which was to be held at 7:00 that evening. We’d held a mock debate at our previous conference in Denver, at which I’d felt comfortable and excited. That, however, had been in front of, oh, twenty or so individuals, not 250+! I felt confident that things would go well, but I knew the campaign would, to a large extent, ride on my showing, and so, naturally, there existed some angst.

At around 5:40, my campaign manager, quite brilliantly, I think, told me to just go find a quiet place and rest. The day had been exhausting, speaking with folks at every turn and doing my best to convey our message accurately and inspiringly. I laid down for about twenty minutes and then got back to it. At 7, we huddled into the auditorium, and by 7:15, the four candidates were on-stage. I, luckily, obtained a stylish, retro yellow-checkered sports coat to sport during the discussion and proudly headed on state feeling quite classy. Others may have had other thoughts, but I thought it a quality coat.

The debate began with opening statements. I’d prepared a statement that was around one minute, which I thought to be limit. I was a bit worried that I’d rush in order to get the whole thing in, and when the moderator stated that we’d have two minutes, I must say I felt relieved. As I eased into my piece, beginning with a complaint about how our program advisors had prepared us for many things but never for having to use the restroom during a debate(!), I began to felt more at ease. I talked about my work as a teacher and the cause of educational equity representing this country’s most critical issue. I encouraged audience members to take their commitment to progressing education for all children in our country to the next level. I conveyed to them all that my time in the classroom has done for me, as well as why and how it left me extremely prepared and eager to be their ambassador to People For The American Way. By the end of my introduction, I was fully into the swing of things and eager to get the debate going.

The questions that followed came from the moderator, my fellow candidates, and, finally, members of the audience. I discussed questions of how I, as a white male, could identify with, and represent the interest of, minority and discriminated communities, as well as whether or not I’d ever experienced discrimination myself. I talked about the ‘fierce urgency of now’ in terms of tackling the key issues progressive face, including environmental security, civil and human rights, economic opportunity, and worked to link it all back to our campaign’s underlying message of education as a silver bullet. Indeed, after the debate, many folks expressed satisfaction that I’d relayed so many things effectively back to education. This was the goal in the debate. It must also be a goal of progressive activists.

I closed with a call to action (as political communication Joel Silberman, a friend and mentor, always advises). I told folks to go back to their communities, colleges, families and friends, and listen, learn, inspire, and make change. I stated once more that all of us, despite our different issues and backgrounds share a deep commitment to progressive values, particularly the cause of creating a just and equitable society. I asked for their support and thanked them for their participation in what was a hearty discussion.

Leaving the debate was a rush. I held many discussions with YP4 Fellows who wanted to follow up on the debate’s topics. I chatted with a young lady who said her vote had come down to myself and one other candidate and that, if I could answer her question correctly, she’d have my support. After an extended and honest interaction, she walked away with confidence that I’d serve her well as ambassador. This was a true thrill.

I then debriefed with my campaign team. We went over the highs and lows of the debate and made plans for the rest of the evening. Talking tactics was rad. I felt fully enmeshed in a political contest, and, most importantly, felt totally comfortable in, and excited by, my role as candidate. We had work to do, and we moved quickly to do it.

The next stop, after a brief foray to Burger King for, quixotically, a veggie burger (your guess is as good as mine, though, it was quite tasty), I made my way to the YP4 Fellow’s hotel to attend a dance party. It was great to just let loose with these awesome young people for a while, and, while I discussed the campaign with many folks, we also just had a good time dancing! Indeed, two other candidates in myself had quite the go of it on the dance floor, providing a few memorable pictures for the YP4 Summit photographer!

My team had planned a rally that night in one of the fellow’s hotel rooms, and they were busy handing out flier to it. Around 10:35, I made my way upstairs and, for the next hour and a half, engaged in more wonderful conversations, learning the stories of a student senator from the University of Cincinatti, an inner-city tutor from New York City, who will go on to teach after graduation, a former FLLA fellow who has started a wonderful organization called Hip Hop CAN, the mission of which is to give members of the hip hop community more of a say in political issues. As was the tale of the tape this weekend, I was riveted by these and other individuals’ stories and enjoyed so deeply our time talking. After the rally, and quite near the midnight hour, my team and I again made our way back to the hotel. It had been a long, wonderful day. We were tired but excited but an incredible and successful day on the trail.

Saturday was all about getting out the vote. Polls were to be open from 8-3, and there were a few intermissions between fellows’ sessions when they’d be able to cast their ballots. We worked during all of these, quite frantically I’d say, to ensure that all our supporters made their voice known, as well as talking to undecideds to try to swing them our way. When three o’clock came, all candidates and candidates’ teams took their first deep breath in, well, I don’t know, 45 hours, or so. These types of breaths feel good- very good. We’d run a great campaign. Indeed, we’d run our hearts out, as had each of the other teams. We were anxious for results and, in a few short hours we’d have them,

Initially, an announcement came that, after counting the ballots, results had been unexpectedly close and the possibility of a run-off was being discussed amongst program coordinators. Last year’s election had been lopsided, and, apparently, the notion of what to do in case of a close race had not been decided beforehand. This idea was instantly denounced in my mind and those of my teammates. We wanted to know the results, straight up. A few hours later, during the intermission of our evening’s entertainment, a political comedy show put on by a group called ‘Laughing Liberally’ (hilarious!), Andrew Gillum, one of FLLA’s top coordinators and advisers, called the four candidates to the stage for the announcement. I felt strangely calm as I made my way ahead and joined the other three. The announcement came quickly- boom, not me. Disappointed, I clapped and applauded one of my fellow candidates, Julianna Bradley (a separate blog posting would be necessary to justly convey the dynamism of this special young person), who’d won the contest. We were then joined by all of our fellow fellows for pictures and recognition. I felt proud- proud that my team had run such a good campaign and that all campaigns had made their cases in such a positive, non-divisive way, about which some had worried. I felt honored that my team believed in me so much and worked so tirelessly and passionately on my behalf. I felt excited about my development as a candidate, particularly as regards conveying my ideas through public speaking and relating to voters on a one-to-one level. I felt hopeful for the future, after having learned the stories of well over one hundred fellows and becoming familiar with the incredible work they are doing to make their communities better. I felt blessed to have had the opportunity to meet dozens of new friends, with whom, in future, I look very much forward to staying in touch and working.

After the decision was announced, I joined other fellows, as well as many from last year’s class, for official pictures and a debrief. I was hurting- there’s no doubt. When you give yourself so fully to, and work so hard for, something, and then don’t get it, your heart sinks and your world rocks. Two days after the fact, I can reflect that this is both good and healthy, as well as focus on the myriad positive take-away I, well, take away from this conference. Back at the time, however, this was not easy. To compound matters, Obama had lost, and I, simply, felt shaken. I was ready to get out of there, to go back to the hotel, and then walk just walk the streets for a bit to forget about things. I joined one of teammates and did just that. We shared a silent stroll back to the hotel, not quite wanting to delve into anything ‘campaign’. We changed quickly and parted ways, he going to join college chums, and me to wander the streets of Dupont for a bit before doing the same.

I came to a coffee shop and decided I wanted a paper and discussion. I sat myself down at a corner café run by a delightful Moroccan woman. I was delighted by her charm and quickly decided I’d come to the right place. I opened my Washington Post but didn’t get too far. In addition to the friendly host, I began chatting with a young woman sitting next to me. She had an accent I couldn’t trace and was reading a book on the impact of the media in conveying the image of Islam in the United States- interesting stuff. We chatted about many things, including her and my reasons for being in D.C. I briefed her on the conference. She turned out to be from Nepal and had moved from there to attend Wesleyan College in Georgia. Baffled, I asked how and why one made it all the way from Nepal to Georgia. She told me her story, and I left enchanted. I was already feeling better.

Joining with good friends is nice. I arrived at a bar a few blocks away and came together with several of my best friends from college, whom I’d not seen since graduation and the dawn of my TFA experience. I also came together with the now infamous Lukasz Bugaj, whose diatribe and paper regarding the impending dangers of bird flu leave me shaken to the core and avoiding just about any flying organism I can (again, thanks, Bugaj). We all talked, sharing our experiences since graduation. Everyone, and I mean everyone, is doing well, which brings an indescribable sense of relief and happiness to me. This is a feeling I experienced when I returned to Michigan for winter break and, at a New Year’s party, found high school friends well on their way to good friends. Caring for others is great and knowing they’re well even greater.

After a late night and no small amount of soul searching, I was ready to embrace graduation. Sunday morning came quickly, but I still managed a run, changed quickly, and made my way back to the NEA. It was good to see the fellows’ friendly faced and, upon entering our graduation room, I could tell something special was in store. We received addresses from each of our dear advisors, trainers, and other folks who’ve supported us over the last seven months. I feel an incredible bond to these people and know I’ve entered a family a part of which I will remain forever. I accepted my certificate with pride and felt as though I’d completed my training well.

As I look ahead and think about my future as both a public servant and a candidate for elected office, I know that I am now armed with the tools and the confidence to do well. I understand that everything one does, both as a candidate and an elected official, must come back to a basic mission. For me, this mission is simple. It is to create a society in which every person has a real and fair opportunity to her or his full potential. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., whose life and memory we will celebrate tomorrow (or today, depending on the time I post this blog entry), spoke of the inter-related structure of reality. He said, ‘I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. This is the inter-related structure of reality.’ We all have talents. We all have dreams. Each of us deserves every opportunity to optimize these talents and realize these dreams. As a public servant, this mission will remain deeply rooted in the forefront of my mind.

Back in the Saddle and Preparing for Lightning...

2008-01-11T16:43:00.000-08:00

...not real lightning, of course, but this is a big week for me! Next Wednesday, I'll travel to D.C. for the fourth of four Front-Line Leaders Academy conferences at which my campaign team and I will put more than two months of hard work and planning into play and try to help me become the 2008 People For The American Way's Youth Ambassador, a driving force in the progressive movement. The Youth Ambassador's duties consist of playing a role in People For The American Way-sponsored youth progressive, political leadership training programs' programming and recruiting efforts. In this sense, as YA, I would have a real impact in deciding the type of issues that the progressive movement takes as its main causes, as well as the type of young people that take the driver's seat and moves it into the next generation. I take these tasks extremely seriously. This generation, my generation, faces a great deal of challenges, but it possesses more in the way of talent, drive, and passion to overcome them. The movement to optimize these three critical assets represents one of critical importance. Feeling myself a leader, I believe I would do an extremely good job of ensuring that our strengths reach their potential and create the type of change both our country and world so desperately need.

Also, in D.C., I'll have the priviledge of returning to my old stomping grounds in Foggy Bottom to meet with several senior leaders at George Washington University to speak with them about a possible future with Teach For America. A program that has given me so much in terms of perspective, discipline, and passion for moving forward into a policy making position would go a long way, I'm sure, in the lives of my friends now at GW, working to decide what to do with their immediate future. It's interesting to think that, just a bit over a year ago, I was them- on my way to graduation, positioning myself to get into the best graduate school program as possible and setting up for a job on the Hill. While I do not know how long I'll serve as a TFA Corps Member, I know that the experience I've had thus far (or during the first week of teaching, for that matter) will steer and drive my efforts and vision in any position into which I move in future. I think that the same would be true for the GW seniors with whom I'll have the opportunity to speak next Thursday morning. It will be good to be back on campus.

Back in Gallup, it has been refreshing and healthy to get back to work. After over two weeks of a much-needed vacation, during which I experienced a brother who has, quite frankly, grown into one of the most impressive young people I've ever met (with a height and voice to match a young man- holy cow, I feel old!); played more ping-pong than any human being has business doing during, well, pretty much any increment of which you can conceive; became perhaps painfully aware of the looming and potentially devastating risks of the H5N1 Virus ((a.k.a. avian bird flu) thanks, Bugaj); and traveled to Iowa to campaign for Barack Obama, candidate for president and a great hero of mine, in what will undoubtedly be one of the most inspiring and unforgettable experiences of my life, I can say that, yes, there are many good things about both being away from the 'hard' of teaching, as it allows one to step back and take a broader look at what they are doing, want to do, and where they should head next, and then returning to school to get back with the students and colleagues I've come to know, appreciate, and, in a way, love.

Gallup's cold- real cold. Speaking with a colleague on Wednesday, I lamented about a weather report of which I'd learned that placed Gallup's immediate pre-dawn temperature at 5-yeah, in New Mexico- when she chuckled and informed me that the thermometer at her home, outside the city had reached a balmy 12 below-yeah, in New Mexico. Now, I know you winter experts in the Midwest and Northeast may think of the Southwest as something a safe-haven, a temperately temperatured oasis, in which the cold finds no friend and scarcely lays down to rest, however, to put it frankly, you're incorrect. Gallup's cold- real cold (and I think the fact that hitting my frozen finger on any solid object during my morning run would likely cause it to break cleanly from my hand is a sign that I should move such activities indoors- the gym is $35/month- I'm open to suggestions from the reading audience on this one).

Finally, I can't conclude without putting in a word on the presidential election. Barack unexpectedly dropped the contest in New Hampshire. Kudos to Hillary. She ran a very good race, hung in there, and won. A tip of the cap goes her way, for sure. I was bummed, subdued, and feeling not all too good listening to my daily overload of NPR, which featured no shortage of commentary on how and why pollsters got it so wrong. Two points here- first, Obama's post-election speech, in a way that only this man from Illinois can, snapped me instantly out of my mallaise and spurred me to action. 'Yes, we can', he said, and he's right! That is exactly what his candidacy is about- belief in the impossible, belief in a new way of doing things. Obama's vision towards and mission for the future, to put it simply, is to create a world in which everyone has an accurate belief that everything is possible, that they can achieve anything they dare to dream. For those who say this is not enough of a message to run for, and win, the office of the President of the United State of America, I simply reply that I disagree because the irrepressible hope of the human spirit, when unchained, can accomplish all it sets out to, and we will need nothing short of this to overcome the immense challenges of our time (including bird flu- damn you, Bugaj! It's really on my mind!).

Secondly, this contest is far from over. We go to Nevaga, South Carolina, and we'll have a real competition and, more importantly, debate, on our hands. Most critically, what the early results of this nomination season tells us is that there does still exist fluidity in the U.S. political system. The system needs vast restructuring to allow for more accountability through serious and comprehensive ethics and campaign finance reform, however, there just may be enough fluidity to give the tall, slim senator from Illinois, whose mantra is hope, and whose guilty pleasure since quitting smoking is, apparently, watching Sportscenter (nice!), a chance to win the Democratic Party's nomination and, later, the presidency. I plan to do my part to ensure that his message of hope finds a home in the Oval Office next January.

Fired up, and very much on the go in Gallup,

--Daniel

P.S. A tip of the cap also is in order for New Mexico Governor Bill Richardson, who bowed out of the Democratic presidential race yesterday, but who, for the first time, gave the Land of Enchantment a serious contender for this country's top political post. For his efforts, Big Bill will recieve an eager, oft-contentious, and heavily-tasked state legislature, which will convene its 30 day session on 15 January. Stay tuned for more highlights from Santa Fe.

Dispatches from Iowa- A Trip to Remember

2008-01-05T13:08:00.000-08:00

Below, you'll find thoughts, commentary, and general reflections from my recent trip to Iowa to campaign for Barack Obama for his presidential run. This was one of the most inspiring and empowering experiences of my life. I hope you enjoy these observations!

Dispatches from Iowa:
Reflections from the Road

It’s 3:00 a.m. We’re at a truck stop in Davenport, Iowa. The passengers are tired, weary, but happy to have a warm break from the dreary, chilly environs of our Greyhound bus. My seatmate, a young man possibly a year or two older than me, who exudes a distant concernedness but calm, caring disposition, has kindly shared a blanket with me for the last couple of hours. Without it, things would have been a lot colder and unpleasant.

Earlier, my bus from Kalamazoo had made a stop at the Greyhound station in Downtown Chicago. The hub was packed. Folks coming and going from and to points east, west, south, and north. I love travel centers such as this. Everyone possesses a story, and I nearly go crazy with excitement trying to surmise the background and future of each traveler I encounter. There did exist some discontent in the lobby, as snowy conditions across the Midwest and Northeast made travel conditions difficult and, in some places, impossible. I overheard a gentleman say that he’d be in the station until 9:30 the following morning- yipes! Poor fellow. Hopefully, the weather clears and sends him on his way quickly and safely.

On road trips like this, especially at night, when the smooth sound of tire on pavement and displaced air are all that one can hear, my mind reaches a state of calm, and I’m given cause to reflect on those things happening in my life which are of greatest importance. I’m faced, now, with a crucial decision, into which I’ll not go in this entry, but one that could alter the course of my more immediate future in a way I’d not anticipated. It represents an opportunity to take steps toward the future I’ve had in mind for myself since 2004, but it also would require me to regress from an effort for which I feel great passion, responsibility, and to which I feel a sense of duty. It seems as though, if things go ahead as I hope and anticipate, I will come to a crossroad that will require a life-changing decision and force me to really do some soul-searching about the direction in which I need and want to take my life now. I’m confident that, if and when the time comes, I’ll make the right decision, thanks in large part to the good and honest friends I have at my side to give me their insight. More will come on this scenario in coming weeks. For now, I’ve contented myself to let the open road to take my mind away.

It’s 3:30 a.m. We’re driving now. It’s cold, but I like it. I feel awake, lively, and ready for the adventure that awaits me in Des Moines. I feel empowered to make a difference, and it inspired me because in this country, where politics has become a money game, it feels good to believe that down-home, person-to-person conversations can have a real impact on the outcome of an electoral contest. I wonder how many of my co-passengers know or care about Caucus Night. For many, the economic realities and hurdles of the world have made politics an afterthought. When you’re fighting to put food on the table and pay bills for your family, things such as caucuses, candidates, and elections often get relegated to the lower-end of the priority totem pole. And this is just what is wrong with politics in this country. And this is just what Senator Obama can and will change about politics in this country.

Once upon a time, people in the United States believed in their government as a mechanism through which they could improve their own lives. They felt confident that, at the end of the day, lawmakers of vastly different ideological persuasions were committed to honest debate and finding ground to create sensical policy solutions for the constituents they served. Examples of such policy and compromise include FDR’s ‘New Deal’, which created what economist Paul Krugman has called the ‘Great Compression’ of the U.S.’ financial setting. The ‘Great Compression’ was a tightening of the economic divide between rich and poor in this country. New Deal programs not only ensured that all U.S. citizens had retirement money to look forward to, but it also lowered unemployment, created Medicare for seniors, and, were it not for a series of unfortunate events, including FDR’s death in 1946, would have run very close to creating universal healthcare in this country.

At first, the New Deal was a decidedly partisan agenda. Republicans harked at the type of ‘welfare state’ such a series of initiatives would create. However, seeing the program’s popularity in the eyes of Democratic and Republican voters alike, President Eisenhower, himself a stalwart conservative, attested in the mid-fifties that FDR’s New Deal was here to stay and the battle for Republicans would be to shape it in a more conservative manner in order to slow its progress. While this perspective would cause most liberal Democrats to sneer, a recognition by policymakers of truly popular, sensical programs and then a willingness to let them stand, represents something that we simply to do not very often anymore. We see our president vetoing extended funding for an extremely popular children’s health insurance program despite public approval ratings upwards of 70%. We see the Administration and hawkish lawmakers unabashedly continuing to fund the war on drugs to the tune of $50 billion a year, relegating the bulk of their funding to aerial and manual eradication of drug-producing crops abroad, as well as contributing to the perpetuation of an out-of-control police state at home that is overcrowding our prisons and discriminately and disproportionately sending young persons of color to the penitentiary. Finally, we have a war in Iraq that continues to go awry, and, despite public disapproval of this effort, the Administration and conservative allies in Congress continued to pump hundreds of billions of dollar into it, instead of providing that money for investment in education, health care, and alternative energy sources, the real keys for creating a better, safer, more sustainable future for our country.

I wonder, from my bus seat, what would happen if we had a president who understood all this, who knew that politics as usual needs to come to an end, who truly believe that the game could be played a different way. My heart feels with warmth and excitement because I know that, in Barack Obama, we have such a candidate.

I’m so thrilled to be doing this. Alive with passion at the hope and change Senator Barack Obama can bring this country, a hope and change that could not be needed more, I feel my quest to Iowa for caucus season to be something of a romantic odyssey to the heartland of U.S. presidential politics. My first purchase in the Hawkeye state- a Des Moines Register, what else?! The first section, of course, is riddled with political analysis, boating perspectives, opinions, and forecasting on each candidate, each scenario, and what Thursday’s outcome might mean for the contestants.

One of the main stories takes a look at the Democratic campaigns’ dueling views on a recent Des Moines Register poll. The poll put Senator Obama ahead by seven points, outside of the statistical margin of error. What was more noteworthy, however, was the poll’s finding that 40% of those who will caucus Democratic this year are self-identified independents. Since earlier polling has shown Senator Obama with a sharp edge among independent voters, staff in the Clinton and Edwards camps were hard at work trying to discredit the Register’s finding. While the poll director herself said that she was surprised by the high percentage of folks who identified themselves as independent voters, she argued that her approach to the poll was sounded and not unlike those she had used in the past. Whatever the case, there exists a feeling in the air indicating that independent, formerly apathetic, and young voters are beginning to coalesce around this exciting Senator from Illinois. He brings an empowering, progressive message, and his campaign encourages many who have never before participated actively in politics to emerge from the woodwork and do their part to create a better future for this county.

Whether canvassing, phone-calling, or babysitting, over the next 40 hours, I will work like the dickens to ensure that the country I love has the leadership and progressive vision necessary to propel us into a better, safer, more sustainable future.

Obama- A True Believer
(Senator Hits Stride as Campaign Enters Final Stage)

Barack Obama’s Iowa Campaign Headquarters is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Walking in, one is immediately overwhelmed by a steady buzz of voices, frantic typing, and an ecstasy of movement. Persons saunter quickly between desks, out doors, between reporters, and others simply appear to move in order to continue moving!

Staying longer, a few more things become apparent. First, this office is young, very young. The vast majority of staffers are, incredibly, under the age of twenty-five. When Barack Obama talks about winning a brighter day for this country’s young generation, he means it, and he plans to do it by literally giving members of this cadre the keys to the car in terms of shaping policy, running campaigns, and deciding on how government works in the United States. As a young political activist myself, I find this approach extremely empowering and was immediately inspired by the excitement of the ‘young’ room at Obama headquarters.

However, whereas some establishment political figures would chastise giving so much say to young, ‘inexperienced’ leaders, Obama has chosen the best and brightest to do his bidding. Yale, Harvard, Princeton, Stanford, Northwestern, Georgetown and other top-notch universities represent the former academic homes of Obama’s youthful squad. Intelligence, passion, drive, good humor, and focus are all on charming and motivating display in downtown Des Moines. I felt it, and felt comfortable in it, from the start.

A second thing on display in the Obama headquarters in Des Moines is an obsessive attention to detail. What the campaign team lacks in age, it makes up for many times over in drive. Countless staffers and interns pour over computerized data, scouring the lists for a caucuser who’s not been contacted, a leaning, but indefinite supporter whom, with a bit more urging, might caucus for the Senator from Illinois, or an Iowan who might identify Obama as her or his second choice. This office is alive with action and has no time to spare. It is, in every sense, a professional outfit. Watching and actively assisting persons of my generation carry on such an impressive initiative is a dream come true.

Thirdly, the geographic makeup of the campaign team is as vast as Obama’s support is wide. California, Missouri, Kentucky, Minnesota, Ohio, and Virginia- these states and many more all boast daughters and sons helping out in the Senator’s efforts. Some have been here for several days, others weeks. Many have put their personal, academic, and professional lives on hold to contribute to the movement in Iowa. Even older folks, some in their 60s and 70s vigorously make phone calls and hit the trail to win supporters to Obama’s side. Even at this level, many have come across the country to help his team!

Day Two- Caucus Day

At Obama headquarters on 2:05 on Caucus Day, a man, right in front of me, is talking with the Senator. To my right, the state Chairman of the Democratic Party here in Iowa, has arrived. This is nuts!

Five hours remain until we make history. For everyone who says that we cannot, we will. For everyone who equates hope and change with naiveté and political miscalculation, we will show that hope is not only possible and change is not only necessary, but that these qualities represent our surest roadmap to a brighter future. While we cannot predict what will happen in a few hours time, judging by last night’s rally with Senator Obama at Hoover High School on Des Moines’ north side, the fire is in the air to usher in an Obama victory, even a statement win, tonight.

The Event:
Last night’s event was pure magic. We arrived at Hoover High, home of the Huskies, around 8:15. Doors were scheduled to open at 9:00, and I was charged with the task of helping with sign-in. The objective of our sign-in efforts were to, first, get an exact headcount of how many folks attended Senator Obama’s speech, which was to serve as one of his last before the Iowa Caucus, but also how many of these attendees were surefire Obama supporters. By the time 10:00 rolled around, not only had we packed the gym, but over 1,000 people had shown! Two things on this- a: it was freezing b: the event was late!

A hoarse but passionate Barack Obama took the stage and gave his powerful sermon on the power of hope and the necessity of change. The crowd came to life when he explained how, at every turn, when faced with the most difficult of circumstances, people in the United States have stood up to make the necessary change simply by wanting to make it happen. This undeniable will, he claimed and stressed, represents our most powerful asset, as well as the one that has been most tragically muted during the Bush Administration’s tenure. With Obama’s belief and charisma, we can recapture our will.

As I watched the event come to an end, and a tired but jovial Barack embrace his wonderful and wonderfully dynamic wife, Michelle, I knew that something had caught here in Iowa, that the tides of Senator Obama’s campaign were fully turning and that the dream of his candidacy being a success is at hand. Our future rests here in Iowa. As we win here, voters in early primary states see that we can win elsewhere. Supporters across the country will come out of the woodwork and stand solidly for change on their election day. New Hampshire, South Carolina, and then Nevada, and the various contests of Super Tuesday all stand within our grasp if we simply make the choice to believe. We can and must decide that our future belongs to us, and the one, the only one who can empower us with the future we so deserve is Senator Barack Obama.

(I just helped a volunteer speak on the phone with a Spanish-speaking Obama supporter- good to see my speaking abilities are helping out. She said her Spanish has suffered she learned Arabic, a nice illustration of a typical dilemma faced by young Obama supporters.)

Obama Makes History
Iowa Caucus Goers Demand Hope, Change

Tonight, we made history. Senator Obama told us so as he addressed a revved up crowd of supporters after scoring an unexpectedly, to many unbelievably, strong victory over John Edwards (+8) and Hillary Clinton (+9). With a field plan of unprecedented tenacity and grassroots organization, the Senator garnered a whopping 38% of the caucus support and sent a resounding message to the country (especially voters in New Hampshire) that, not only can he win electoral contests against the once seemingly inevitable Clinton, but that people, Democrats, Republicans, and independents alike are voicing their demand for our country to unite around a common vision of hope. Gone are the days of division, the senator said. Here are the days of unity, of people all across the country forgetting what makes us different and remembering what makes us all similar, that is, our belief that by coming together and insisting that we see the best in one another, we can change the shape of our country’s future, as well as that of the world.

I think that the thing that will stick in my mind more than anything else from this night, perhaps the most positively memorable night of my life, is parading with dozens of other screaming, wildly joyous Obama supporters from campaign headquarters to the victory party several blocks away. The temperature was low, but the Iowa winter cold could do little to stop our enthusiasm as we walked the several walks between the office and Des Hyvee Hall. I remember looking into many of the cars who honked their signs of support at us as we walked and seeing African American men pumping their fists, smiling wildly as we passed by, signs in hand, chanting and marching for the senator. In his victory speech, Senator Obama mentioned Selma and the courageous young women and men who ‘braved firehoses’ and other horrendous atrocities to win new liberties and freedoms during the Civil Rights Movement. We know that the achievements of these brave activists were vast. We also know that the challenges still facing us in terms of discrimination and racial oppression are, unfortunately, greater still. I hear from a 45-year-old African American woman caucus gore who I picked up and dropped off to caucus this evening (Ms. Myles, by the way, actually became a county delegate at her caucus and will represent the Hiatt Middle School precinct at the Iowa Democratic County Conventions after not planning on attending the caucuses at all!) that, despite her college degree from Drake University and experience working in high-level positions on the East Coast, she continues to struggle finding a job that matches her credentials here in Iowa. Why? Moreover, she is constantly conscious of her physical appearance. Her hair is graying, and she prefers to hide this process by dying her blond hair, however, she has found this look overly risqué for conservative Des Moines employers. Why do people continue to segregate and divide themselves because of color? What is it about society that forces people to seek out division, instead of commonality, amongst one another? I contend that we need leadership that can remind and convince us of the good within every single person. We need a leader that brings out the best in each person and gives them cause to believe that we can produce anything we want, even the brightest of futures. I am not alone in this supposition, as Iowa caucus goers powerfully displayed tonight, making history and sending Senator Obama strongly on to New Hampshire.

Where do we go from here? What do the powerful events of January 3rd, 2008, teach us? I contend that this day will go down in history. This will be remembered as the day when the first time in U.S. political history that an entirely grassroots campaign, entirely not beholden to federal lobbyists and special interests, decidedly focused on hope and an empowerment of all persons scored a victory that could set it on an unstoppable track to the presidency. As the Senator boldly reminded us in his unearthly speech, we have made history, and we have done it because we decided to do it. We decided to call upon the best in us, forget the worse, and come together to fight for a better future. When I looked into the eyes and faces of the young African American men driving in downtown Des Moines after Obama this evening, was a belief, a true belief that, for the first time, someone of a similar background to their own, who has struggled with the wretchedness of racial identity, proved, through an outpouring of passion and, honesty, and good, solid hard work, that someone like them can ascend to the highest levels of power and influence in this country.

Tonight, we won in Iowa. We made history. But the road has just begun. We take this hope, this passion, and this faith on into New Hampshire. We will win there because people in this country know that Senator Obama represents the best of what we have to offer- an unrelenting faith in, and hope for a better tomorrow.

Saddle up, brother- we're going to Iowa!

2007-12-28T06:06:00.000-08:00

With the presidential campaign in full swing, my top pick, Barack Obama, within striking distance in Iowa, and with my butt planted firmly on my grandma's bar stool, I had an epiphany yesterday. It seems as though those who receive the call to action realize it all at once. My entire family,save for my father who I maintain has a latent support for the candidate, has taken an enthusiastic approach to supporting Senator Barack Obama's candidacy for the presidency. My mother and brother were involved early on in the Kalamazoo, Michigan area, working to spread the word on the Senator's agenda and why he made the best person for the U.S.' top post. I, more recently, have taken the lead in starting a group called 'Gallup For Obama', to rally the passionate, yet somewhat disorganized support for Obama's campaign that exists in Northwestern New Mexico. It seemed quixotic, then, that, at the height of primary season, with ballots being cast in less than one week in Iowa, that I should remain silent in Michigan, simply reading, writing, and hoping for an Obama win in the first contest, while he, and thousands of others, had hit the Hawkeye state to work day and night to ensure victory.

'Damn it!' I thought. Michigan is not that far from Iowa. Why don't my brother and I pack a bag, buy a Greyhound ticket and head south?!" Coming up with no good answer, here I am, sitting at a coffee shop, having just booked a ticket to Des Moines for 01 January to spend the final two days of the Iowa primary season working hard for the candidate I think holds the key for changing our country's fractured political state. What may have sealed the deal for me was an article in 'Atlantic' magazine's December edition by Andrew Sullivan outlining, in an incredibly articulate, passionate, and, most importantly, compelling manner, the reasons why, not only is Barack the top candidate in either party in the '08 presidential field, he also represents a 'generational' candidate with the unique set of tools necessary to bridge our divide and also tamp down anti-U.S. sentiment across the globe, particularly in the Islamic World.

Many things in the article stood out, and spoke to, me, but I want to post here a few points that struck me in a particularly strong way. First, describing one of Obama's strongest assets, Sullivan describes how the candidate's 'face' would in and of itself play a solid role in securing our country. Take a look:

"What does he offer? First and foremost: his face. Think of it as the most effective potential re-branding of the United States since Reagan. Such a re-branding is not trivial—it’s central to an effective war strategy. The war on Islamist terror, after all, is two-pronged: a function of both hard power and soft power. We have seen the potential of hard power in removing the Taliban and Saddam Hussein. We have also seen its inherent weaknesses in Iraq, and its profound limitations in winning a long war against radical Islam. The next president has to create a sophisticated and supple blend of soft and hard power to isolate the enemy, to fight where necessary, but also to create an ideological template that works to the West’s advantage over the long haul. There is simply no other candidate with the potential of Obama to do this. Which is where his face comes in.

Consider this hypothetical. It’s November 2008. A young Pakistani Muslim is watching television and sees that this man—Barack Hussein Obama—is the new face of America. In one simple image, America’s soft power has been ratcheted up not a notch, but a logarithm. A brown-skinned man whose father was an African, who grew up in Indonesia and Hawaii, who attended a majority-Muslim school as a boy, is now the alleged enemy. If you wanted the crudest but most effective weapon against the demonization of America that fuels Islamist ideology, Obama’s face gets close. It proves them wrong about what America is in ways no words can."

Much and little has been made about Obama's opposition to the war as a state senator in 2002. Much has been made by those who claim that then State Senator Obama is weak on defense and not even willing to authorize military force at a time when our country's security is seemingly clearly in danger. Little has been made by those who attempt to tamp down the courage of Obama in taking an unpopular position because a: he was a lowly state senator, and his decisions are, as such, not as consequential as U.S. senators, such as Clinton and Edwards, both of whom voted to support the war. In this bold statement from 2002, Obama keenly discounts both criticisms. Take a look:

"I don’t oppose all wars. And I know that in this crowd today, there is no shortage of patriots, or of patriotism. What I am opposed to is a dumb war. What I am opposed to is a rash war … I know that even a successful war against Iraq will require a U.S. occupation of undetermined length, at undetermined cost, with undetermined consequences. I know that an invasion of Iraq without a clear rationale and without strong international support will only fan the flames of the Middle East, and encourage the worst, rather than best, impulses of the Arab world, and strengthen the recruitment arm of al-Qaeda. I am not opposed to all wars. I’m opposed to dumb wars."

Five years on, it would be extremely hard for someone to doubt the accuracy and wisdom in Obama's forecast. Undetermined cost? Yes. Occupation of undetermined length? You betcha. Fanned the flames of the Middle East and encouraged the worst impulses of the Arab World? Si, senor. Not opposed to all wars, he says he is- simply, dumb wars. Has the Iraq War been dumb? Hmmmmm...

If that isn't enough, consider the following statement that a: shows how the generational divide between Obama and Clinton leaves the latter more prone to be afraid of, and divided from, right-wingers than the former and b: backs up Obama's statement in a July debate that he would readily negotiate with so-called global pariahs immediately upon taking office (and why it represents a politically divisive stance not to do so):

"A generational divide also separates Clinton and Obama with respect to domestic politics. Clinton grew up saturated in the conflict that still defines American politics. As a liberal, she has spent years in a defensive crouch against triumphant post-Reagan conservatism. The mau-mauing that greeted her health-care plan and the endless nightmares of her husband’s scandals drove her deeper into her political bunker. Her liberalism is warped by what you might call a Political Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Reagan spooked people on the left, especially those, like Clinton, who were interested primarily in winning power. She has internalized what most Democrats of her generation have internalized: They suspect that the majority is not with them, and so some quotient of discretion, fear, or plain deception is required if they are to advance their objectives. And so the less-adept ones seem deceptive, and the more-practiced ones, like Clinton, exhibit the plastic-ness and inauthenticity that still plague her candidacy. She’s hiding her true feelings. We know it, she knows we know it, and there is no way out of it.

Obama, simply by virtue of when he was born, is free of this defensiveness. Strictly speaking, he is at the tail end of the Boomer generation. But he is not of it.

Partly because my mother, you know, was smack-dab in the middle of the Baby Boom generation,” he told me. “She was only 18 when she had me. So when I think of Baby Boomers, I think of my mother’s generation. And you know, I was too young for the formative period of the ’60s—civil rights, sexual revolution, Vietnam War. Those all sort of passed me by.”

Obama’s mother was, in fact, born only five years earlier than Hillary Clinton. He did not politically come of age during the Vietnam era, and he is simply less afraid of the right wing than Clinton is, because he has emerged on the national stage during a period of conservative decadence and decline. And so, for example, he felt much freer than Clinton to say he was prepared to meet and hold talks with hostile world leaders in his first year in office. He has proposed sweeping middle-class tax cuts and opposed drastic reforms of Social Security, without being tarred as a fiscally reckless liberal. (Of course, such accusations are hard to make after the fiscal performance of today’s “conservatives.”) Even his more conservative positions—like his openness to bombing Pakistan, or his support for merit pay for public-school teachers—do not appear to emerge from a desire or need to credentialize himself with the right. He is among the first Democrats in a generation not to be afraid or ashamed of what they actually believe, which also gives them more freedom to move pragmatically to the right, if necessary. He does not smell, as Clinton does, of political fear."

Finally, Sullivan closes with an incredibly powerful and duelistic look into what vorers face when they hit the polls this primary season. Take one final look:

Clinton Presidency:
"The paradox is that Hillary makes far more sense if you believe that times are actually pretty good. If you believe that America’s current crisis is not a deep one, if you think that pragmatism alone will be enough to navigate a world on the verge of even more religious warfare, if you believe that today’s ideological polarization is not dangerous, and that what appears dark today is an illusion fostered by the lingering trauma of the Bush presidency, then the argument for Obama is not that strong. Clinton will do. And a Clinton-Giuliani race could be as invigorating as it is utterly predictable."

Obama Presidency:
"But if you sense, as I do, that greater danger lies ahead, and that our divisions and recent history have combined to make the American polity and constitutional order increasingly vulnerable, then the calculus of risk changes. Sometimes, when the world is changing rapidly, the greater risk is caution. Close-up in this election campaign, Obama is unlikely. From a distance, he is necessary. At a time when America’s estrangement from the world risks tipping into dangerous imbalance, when a country at war with lethal enemies is also increasingly at war with itself, when humankind’s spiritual yearnings veer between an excess of certainty and an inability to believe anything at all, and when sectarian and racial divides seem as intractable as ever, a man who is a bridge between these worlds may be indispensable.

We may in fact have finally found that bridge to the 21st century that Bill Clinton told us about. Its name is Obama."

Folks, I can't sit by and watch and hope that the candidate I believe can change the world gets elected. And so, on January 1st, I'll hit the road heading for Iowa. I will do my best to ensure that the coming generation has what it needs in terms of a leader who can unite a fractured county and restore the U.S.' image in the eyes of the world. Our choice is clear, and I urge each of you to take action.

Holday reflections and resolutions for the new year

2007-12-25T20:37:00.000-08:00

1. Always be on time.
2. Develop a working understanding of cricket.
3. Cook something different at least three times a week.
4. Don't say what you don't mean, and always say what ya' do.
5. Help a Democrat win election in New Mexico's Second Congressional District.

These constitute my tentative resolutions for the year 2008. Other ideas with which I'm toying around include learning an instrument, preferably one with strings, penning and sending through snail mail at least one letter per week, and giving up coffee (Hah! Forget that!). Seriously though, at the beginning of any year, it's fun to resolve to do things (and not do things) that can make a real and positive impact in and on our lives. Last year, I made a few, some held through, and I'm better for it. For example, I felt compelled to keep traveling to differen countries, a habit I'd christened in summer '06, before the commencement of this blog, and which I happily continued and manifested into trips to Nicaragua and an upcoming venture to the Middle East. Yee-haw.

Now, home, recouping, and feeling inspired, I've resolved to, once more, try to take the beginning of the new year, as a cause for self-improvement. A key difference, and one that, I think, makes this task even more important than in years past, is that, now, my self-improvement can and, I think, will, improve the lives of dozens of other, incredibly special people- that is, my students at Church Rock Academy.

Every day, they look for a leader who is well put together, passionate, and, most importantly, deeply cares about them and their development as students and people. I do, and I want to show them better that I do. I've started this trend by getting a hair cut yesterday. Cleaning up a chaotic mop of curls will help me be a better teacher in at least two important ways. First and foremost, seeing your students is key- yeah- seeing your students is key. Removing the locks from afront my eyes assists in making this a reality. Secondly, I will look more professional, which could allow me to garner support for my classroom from outside entities, such as philanthropists, district policy makers, and others. I'm not a conformist, but if it means giving my students more opportunities to succeed, I'll shave my head, gosh darn it!

So, hope with the new year and a call to action cloud my mind as December 25th turns to December 26th, two days before my parents' 33rd wedding anniversary. Wow! That's a lot of years! It's amazing and admirable that they've kept things together for so long. It's been a union not without trial, but they've managed, and my brother and I are better for it. By the way, my brother is a young man now, and growing like crazy. He's wicked smart and funny as heck. I'm stoked by him and cannot wait to see in which direction his life will turn. He's a talent to say the least.

Now, I feel compelled to discuss two of my best friends and most faithful blog readers- Elliot Bell-Krasner and Brock Boven. First, let's talk EBK.

Elliot is a unique soul and invariably makes a strong impression on people due to his enthusiasm, which is of the ultra variety and which I find both inspring and compelling. He is a senior at GW with many prospects. After having wrapped up an incredibly successful semester working for Senator Kennedy and the Senate Education Committee, he'll transfer to the National Education Association for a paid internship working on issues related to No Child Left Behind. As if that weren't enough, he's also a successful Sunday school teacher at a local synagogue, which offered him a full-time gig teaching after graduation. Elliot has a great deal of leadership experience, including inside the classroom, that would benefit him as a Teach For America Corps Member. a position for which he is also in the process of applying. One day, Elliot will serve his country as an elected official. He's currently serving the students of GW's Columbian School of Arts and Science as one of their student senators. The record will show in May that they were much better off having his services than they would've been without them.

On to Brock 'the Rock', not 'rock, chalk, Jayhawk', Boven. I've known Brock since my senior year of high school, when I moved to Portage, Michigan from Las Cruces, New Mexico, not really knowing anyone and having no idea what to expect. I arrived in my first hour physics class like a fragile dumpling (o.k.- I have no idea what that means, but I felt like writing it anyway- ignore the diction, and move one), or a kid without a plan. I noticed a short, skinny kid to my right who looked all of 12-years-old. In all fairness, despite his vastly more muscular physique, Boven still looks 12- sorry, Bov! Anyhow, in the early throes of the schoolyear, I was convinced Brock didn't like me. We didn't talk much in physics or in the other class we shared- accounting. However, we did share some mutual friends, which led us to eat together at the same table during lunch. We bonded, finally, when we discovered a mutual interest in launching bits of bread sticks at unsuspecting students sitting nearby. Upon establishing this unbreakable bond, a new friendship, nay, a brotherhood was formed that lasts to this day.

I learned that Boven, despite his Michigan roots, is a Southwesterner at heart. Indeed, his golf talents had taken him to a few tourneys down in the SW, and he told me he was planning to compete in a tournament in my native Las Cruces. I shared with him some info. on the place, including locations of fine-dining at which he and his pop would have to stop. He also visited New Mexico State University and, enjoying his time there, put it on his list of prospective colleges to which to apply come the next schoolyear (Boven is one year younger than me). Happily, he decided that NMSU was the right fit for him and, today, he is a senior Aggie, on his way to graduating with high honors and having carved a strong niche within the school's geography department. He will have his choice among several quality grad programs from Geographical Information Systems, including an offer from NMSU to stay and do his masters work for free. Boven has developed into an incredibly thoughtful, intelligent, and caring person, and I am grateful for his friendship. And even though I continually kick his ass in ping-pong, he's even improved substantially in this area. Who knows, perhaps an upset is in the making!

Cheerio from Kalamazoo,

(A comfortable) --Daniel

Between Odds and Ends

2007-12-20T11:16:00.000-08:00

When we lose someone close, several assumptions we had about life and its equation fly to the wind. Why and how could the same force bringing people together to fall in love, engendering joy in the heart of a mother as she delivers a baby into the world, or exuding a sense of hope so strong it seemingly cannot perish, also create a devastation and grief of such a severe nature that it forces us to rethink our most basic suppositions about the point of existence. Call it an existential crisis if you like, but when someone, especially a teacher, mentor, and loving family man, is taken from this Earth prematurely, one cannot help but wonder why. What is the broader, positive take-away here? I understand that some, indeed most, of life's important lessons are nuanced and we cannot find meaning in them at the surface. However, after scavengering for hours and days after one of my best friends and mentors was taken, I remain baffled by something could have decided that it was his time go. And so, at a time of unprecendented hope and excitement in my life, a tragedy of immense proportion gives me pause and forces me to reflect on existence and its guiding force.

I am mad. I am sad. Also, I want answers. If my friend, someone who by any interpretation was living life the 'correct' way dies, then what reason is there to live in that way? Persons of faith say that life's true blessing lies in the great beyond. To some extent, I agree, but it is still perplexing to think about how this man, who, in his work as a physical therapist, teacher, mentor, and father, was depended upon by hundreds of people, could better serve out of this world than within it.

One thing that I cannot espace and that brings me comfort is that innate in all humans, I believe, is a deep and sincere desire to do well unto others. This is our purpose. Though our connection to these natural inclinations are sometimes muddled by the societal injustices like poverty, racism, violence, and other forms of horrendous discrimination, our noble urgings do not leave us. It is the battle of human kind to rid the world of vices that detach persons from what their own mind and body know to be true and right. Even without any great guiding force, this inclination does exist within all of us and seems to represent a sufficient cause for noble, kind behavior towards others and to live a life devoted to creating an equitable world.

As I struggle with the tragedy of my friend's death, my heart goes out to his family, whom he loved best. It's both right and good to think deeply about the possible lessons associated with any of lives event, whether tragedy, triumph, or other, however there exists an inescapable truth here that two daughters and a loving wife are without their hero. And this, no matter how you look at it, is a tragedy.

Reflections on a Snow Day

2007-12-11T06:36:00.000-08:00

As I look out over a snow-covered street in a corner booth at a cafe in Gallup, New Mexico, I am given cause to take to the keyboard and share reflections on what is going on at this point in my life and adventure fresh out of college.

It's been some time since I last blog, reflecting a flurry of activity in both my personal and professional life. To ensure full disclosure, I'll first reel off a bland list of those things in which I've been most involved of late, and then try to give a more eloquent description of a chosen few.

First and foremost, of course, I am a teacher and work daily to become closer to, and effective for, my students. Seventy-five fourth and fifth graders pass through portable 21 at Church Rock Academy Elementary School each day, and I am happy to try to provide them with a new kind of knowledge and hope, traits they will need to succeed and lead a meaningful, satisfying life.

Secondly, I find great pleasure in the opportunity to continue pursuing my political interests in this new home. I could not have chosen a better year, politically, to return to the Land of Enchantment. With Senator Pete Domenici planning to resign his seat after his term expires in January, 2009, all three of NM's U.S. House Representatives have tossed their names into the rings as a possible successor, leaving three Congressional seats up for grabs. Along with a good friend and close political colleague, I have been hard at work in putting together a proposal to work on the campaign of a Democratic candidate seeking the seat in NM's 2nd Congressional District. It has been my friend's and my goal and hope for many years to see our district return to the blue, and we have dreamed of making a real impact in that process together. Now, we might get out chance. We have wrapped up our proposal and plan to meet with the candidate personally before I leave for Michigan on December 23rd.

Also, I hosted a house party for Senator Barack Obama at my home last Friday. We had a good group of supporters of the Senator's candidacy for the presidency come out, and we learned important ways in which we can work to help him win delegates in the New Mexico Democratic Caucus, which will take place on February 5th. The meeting was conducted by three representatives from the group 'Grassroots Obama for New Mexico', and, at the end, one of them laid forth the idea that I take the lead in starting a group called 'Gallup For Obama'. There exists much support for Obama's candidacy in this part of the state. The key, in terms of translating this enthusiasm to votes and delegates for Obama, will be organization and mobilization. I am all too happy to comply with the representatives suggestion and am hard at work planning our group's first meeting.

Thirdly, I remain excited about my duties as head coach of Gallup High School's girls and boys tennis teams. We plan to begin practice in late January and match play in early March. In the mean time, I've been attending coaches meetings at the high school and reaching out to players around town (by that, I mean I've actually happened upon some players coincidentally across Gallup). My main goal right now is the planning of a tennis tournament here in Gallup (of which we currently have none) in order to a: raise awareness of our program, for which we hope to garner support and enthusiasm and b: raise some much-needed funds for our team. We could sure use them! I am excited about planning my first tournament, which I hope will become a perennial success in the community. I was hired to build a program at GHS and could not be more excited to stay involved in the sport I love in this way.

Fourth, I have become actively involved in my school's Steel Drum Band. Under the guidance of Director Randy Markham, our world-class music teacher at Church Rock who has spent the better part of the last thirty years as a professional musician, traveling the world performing, laying down scores for both movies and T.V. shows, as well as teaching at the elementary, middle, and high school levels, a small group of students has taken up an instrument that, until now, was entirely foreign to them. Our band has performed at numerous locations, and I had the privilege recently of traveling with them and a fellow teacher to a performance in Albuquerque at an inter-tribal conference reception for a formed U.S. Attorney. In addition to the former U.S. Attorney, Regina Schofield, the conference was attended by several tribal presidents from across the country and other influential policymakers and philanthropists. Despite the luxurious and decidedly high-profile surroundings, our students were calm, cool, and entirely professional. They set up the entire stage, moving quickly and fluidly as they did so, and then brought a chatty room to a halt with their musical talents. Indeed, by the end of the night, we'd engendered a conga line and earned three full and separate standing performances. Proud, excited, and tired, the little musicians cleared the stage, packed up the truck, and drove home on a cold NW New Mexico night, arriving at school just after midnight (two things- when I say the students drove home, don't worry- none of them actually took the wheel! secondly, all except for one of the musicians were at school the next morning, only seven hours after returning from the trip!).

We received a groundswell of support after the performance, with numerous people approaching Randy, offering cards and pledges of support for future trips. It got me thinking about my time in D.C. working for Senator Bingaman. We often hosted large groups of dancers from New Mexico, who had come to town to perform at the Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian. Knowing what an impact a trip to the capital had made on the young persons I'd had the pleasure of hosting for tours of the Capitol building, I set about writing a proposal to the NMAI to secure a performance for our young ones. I know funding is out there and am excited to see if I can orchestrate this ambitious trip. It would, I think, leave a lasting and formative impression in their young minds.

Fifth, I am hard at work with my team plugging away on our campaign for the Youth Ambassador position of the 2008 class of 'Young People 4' fellows. My field manager is creating a winning strategy for the three days of campaigning, which will take place in D.C. in late January; I have submitted a stump speech for review to my communications director, and, with her go-ahead, I will record a video delivering the speech at my school, capturing stock footage of the special place where I work to be shown to YP4 fellows during the confenrece; and, as with any campaign, we are working hard to raise the funds necessary to optimize our field plan. So, if you've not already done so, we definitely would love to receive a little financial support from you (e-mail me for more information on sending contributions or the nature of our campaign effort, more generally).

Sixth, I recently took on a new position at my school entitled 'Student Support Team Facilitator'. The Student Support Team program is designed to offer extra support for students who struggle in the classroom due to academic, behavioral, medical, organizational, or other factors. The team consists of the student, a parent, school administrator, school councilor, SST facilitator, and, in some cases, other people such as community leaders, coaches, or other influencers. What we do is meet periodically to set goals and brainstorm solutions for the student to help them meet those goals. At each meeting, we review the goals, how the interventions (solutions) have fared in helping the student reach the goal and revise our plans based on the needs of the student. My job as SST Facilitator is to keep the lines of communication between teacher and all other members of a student's team as open and effective as possible. The job requires a lot of paper work and organization, but I am happy to step up and fill this spot for my school. I hope and expect to do well in this position.

Finally, there are the personal elements. Without wanting to go into too much detail, let me just say that I feel continually blessed by my colleagues at Church Rock, friends across the country and world, and family in Kalamazoo, Michigan. I receive support and guidance from veteran teachers and administrators at Church Rock and feel quite fortunate to be going through this experience with two other TFA students who are in there first year there, as well. Moreover, my good friend Andy, a third year TFA teacher at Church Rock who teaches the same students as I do, provides daily support, humor, and friendship. I feel blessed for the friends and family I have formed at Church Rock. From the teachers, to the cooks, to the custodians (with whom I've formed particularly close friendships), we are all in the effort of providing our students with every chance to succeed, together.

Moreover, I increasingly enjoy and feel connected to, my roommates. They are in a unique situation, teaching together at a particularly troubled schools. Listening to them recount oddities from their day makes me feel, on one hand, particularly fortunate to be at the school where I am, and, on the other, in total admiration of the commitment they continue to display toward teaching in a very difficult setting. My roommates are highly intelligent, humorous, passionate, energetic people, and I treasure the good fortune that allows me to live with them.

In closing, the love and strength provided me by family in Michigan sustains me through the hardship of teaching. I lament not being able to spend more time with my 14-year-old bro during these critical and critically formative years. However, his continual success leads me to believe that he's on a good track and what I can and should do is simply express encouragement, love, and that I am always there for him to talk or conspire, when need be. My father, like a rock (a quite comical rock), gives me everything I need, whether in terms of sending me contact information for a family member, forwarding an important e-mail, trying to book a flight, taking time off from work to pick me up at the airport, or having a conversation with me about the latest status of the sporting world. I respect my father greatly and admire the way that, through the years, he's been a pillar of dependability for my family. I strive to practice his discipline in my own life. I don't know if he knows how much I respect him and cherish his teachings. Perhaps the blogosphere will help convey the message. My mother, as always, fuels my creative being. Our discussions, up, down, heated, and often argumentative, invariably get me thinking and in a very passionate way. I take my commitment to politics from her. I also inherit my extreme dislike for racial, economic, social, and other types of injustive from my mother. She's inspired in me an inability to turn away from things that don't feel right. From her, I've receive unconditional love, a blessing without peer, and, as I move through life, I feel abundantly fortunate to have three people looking over and out for me, no matter where I or they may be. I find strength in my family and look forward to seeing and speaking with them on December 23rd.

Well, this 'bland list of those things in which I've been most involved of late' has turned into something of an essay. Such is the case, I reckon, in blogosphere, where ideas run unrestrained and the mind feels free to hash out its various weights and burdens. I actually feel I've benefited from typing out before me the things in which I'm involved. It is difficult to track them sometimes, and writing has a way of clearing and organizing my mind. Go blogs!

Finally, two things- first, I've started a new book, 'East of Eden' by the acclaimed author, John Steinbeck. Having read another novel by him, 'Of Mice and Men', I was attracted to this piece. He also writes about the Salinas Valley, close to which I was born and where the mom's side of my family has its roots. I find his language raw and intoxicating. His comments on the desires, hopes, shortcomings, and capabilities of humankind grip me. The beauty of his prose engenders thoughts on, and a new realization of the natural beauty of the world I thought I could have. The parallel in 'East of Eden' between the main characters and the biblical figures Cain and Abel makes this piece and its message timeless and instrumental regardless of year. I'm racing through it. Check with me to chat if you've read the book, too.

Second, a new light has entered my life. She's in Albuquerque and an implant from the charming, early-voting state New England state of New Hampshire. Finding it unlikely that I convey any semblance of my excitement toward this incredible new person who has come into my life, let me leave it with a simple thought- someone who gives you clarity of mind and silently compels you to be honest in an absolute sense makes you afraid. Fear and love, though, are close cousins, and I appreciate the excitement her thought gives me throughout the day.

Cheerio on a Gallup snow day,

--Daniel

Gobble Gobble

2007-11-22T07:56:00.000-08:00

As another Thanksgiving passes, I'm reminded to take particular care and think of the various things for which I should give thanks on this day of reflection. However, today seems atypical in nature. Over the past year, I've undergone a period of change unlike any known yet throughout my life. I graduated from college; made voyages to Nicaragua and Ireland; was accepted into, and then became a part of, Teach For America, and endured the training that went along with it; am 75% through a young leaders program that has reaffirmed my desire to run for office, and created within me a new confidence in my ability to do so well and successfully; I've established a new home in Gallup, New Mexico, a place about which I'd known scant little, previously; and, finally, I'm making my way 'on my own', that is, I'm out of the dorms, away from my family, fending for myself. Yet, as soon as I write this down, I know exactly how silly it is to proclaim, ever, that I am, in any way, shape, or form, alone. The truth is that I have hundreds of wonderful people behind me, offering love and support, and molding me into the type of person I want to be.

Just this past week, for example, I returned to Las Cruces, New Mexico, the town in which I grew up, to spend a week of vacation with friends who, for all intents and purposes, are family. There exist many examples to discuss of the type of wonderful people who embrace me any time I pass through this magical city, however, I feel as though focusing on one family, in particular, nicely and effectively illustrates the good fortune I've had in meeting supportive, loving folks throughout my life.

Tim and Thea Hand know me and know me well. Tim has been a friend and tennis coach of mine since I was 13. He knows the ins-and-outs of my game. Moreover, he know the inner-rungs of my spirit, what makes me tick, where I want to go, and how I should get there. Thea taught me in high-school. She delivered many important lessons that I carry with me to this day and work to employ in my own classroom. One lesson in particular has stuck with me and passes through my mind often. It was a monologue by Thea regarding the difference between 'tolerance' and 'acceptance', and the preferential nature of the latter over the former. She exclaimed that one could tolerate someone else without ever taking the effort to truly know their beliefs, traditions, or way of life, more generally. Acceptance, however, causes one to reflect on her or his own beliefs, and how it might be, indeed it is, O.K. for others to believe different things, practice different activities, and lead their lives in the way they choose. Acceptance is tought, but more valuable, than tolerance. Teach tolerance? Nay, teach acceptance.

The Hand family has welcomed me throughout my post-Las Cruces career. Whether it was offering advice for passing through school, helpful pointers to become a better tennis player, or encouraging thoughtful reflection on just what I want out of life, they have always been there for me. I feel that I am truly one of the family. Thea's son, Ryan, is a remarkable young man, student, and tennis player. This 12-year-old has tremendous upside, and I enjoy and take very seriously the responsibility of providing him with a good example. I can only hope that he may take some things from me and my experience that help him as he passes through his. With all Thea and Tim give me, it seems the least I can do to help Ryan meet his awesome potential.

When we trust other people, through our fate into their hands, their naturally emerges a sense of vulnerability. We, in essence, are no longer in full control of our future. I never worry about this, and this, undoubtedly, is a luxury not enjoyed by all. I needn't worry about trusting others because those closest to me, I know, care deeply for my future and development. I many times wonder if the people in my life are aware of how grateful I am for them. It would be easy for them not to be, given my sub-par abilities in terms of keeping in touch, expressing gratitude, or displaying some of the other basic behaviors of a good friend, in general. However, I hope that, with this posting, somehow, over the Web, I can convey a real and genuine sense of my thankfulness on this special day for all of the love and support I have received and continue receive, especially over the last year of change. May each of you spend wonderful, enjoyable, and relaxing time with friends and family this Thanksgiving. I'll be thinking about each of you as I enjoy mine.

Cheerio from Las Cruces.

Sweat lodge rings in the cultural new year

2007-11-18T21:17:00.000-08:00

Last Wednesday, I attended a 'sweat lodge' at the home of a good friend and colleague. In some Navajo traditions, the sweat lodge constitutes a cherished cultural component. Discussing the ritual with my colleague over the course of several weeks, I felt excited, if somewhat anxious, when he finally handed me a map last Wednesday and invited me to take part in the revered Navajo 'sweat'.

After a bit of difficulty (my own fault, entirely) in finding my colleague's home, I arrived just before six, as the sun moved slowly lower and lower beneath the horizon. Stripping down to some trunks, I made my way to the small structure in which it seems the ceremony was taking place. A man outside the lodge, Emerson, led me to the entrance. I could hear a drum and singing taking place inside. Slowly, excitedly, I entered.

What I saw when I slipped inside the skins and blankets could not be easier to describe- absolutely nothing. It was pitch black! I sat down. I could tell, once the curtain opened a bit later, that the space was comprised of a circular bench, on which the sweaters sit, and, in the center, a pit in which the numerous lava rocks that brought the space to incredible temperatures (temperatures that make your fiercest sauna seem like the frozen food section at your local grocer) rested, emitting tremendous warmth and producing intense and immediate perspiration all over my body. The music and singing began, chants I could not decipher, but the passion, emotion, and strange precision of which there was no mistaking. I was in an intense setting- this much, I knew, was true.

The temperature increased with each splash of water on the rocks. The steady 'whoosh, whoosh' was invariably followed by a piercing tinge on my skin as the hot air penetrated my body. My nose began to run. Water raced down my face and chest. My side hurt. Still, I felt well- strangely well. It was as though all of the ills and pent-upedness collecting inside of me were, somehow, racing out along with what seemed like several pounds of liquid I lost.

The chants meant a lot. I could tell that these words, songs were sacred, traditional, passed-on through many years. The men sang with such conviction in their voice that I remember wondering what these men were like in their everday life. Were they quiet? Reserved? Perhaps this exercise, once or twice a week, gave them the outlet they needed to vent pent-up frustration and remain in a strange, admirable calm for the remainder of the week. Whatever the case is, the chanting means a lot- both to the men who were leading it and me as a sat there in amazement of what was transpiring.

As the night wore on, I became more fully aware that something very healthy for my soul was happening. I felt lighter, more concentrated. My head cleared, body uncoiled. I embraced the heat, and it seemed to surround and protect me, from what, I don't know- but it had, undoubtedly, shifted from foe to friend, from adversary to ally. Each bead of sweat represented apprehension and stress leaving my body. I began to feel what my colleague had so sincerely described.

Finally, as the night drew to a close, the sweaters lured me back in to the lodge for one more round. They said that it would not take long but joked under their breath that 'it'll be hot!' Having just gone through nearly three hours of heat, I figured a few more minutes would do me well and, after helping to load in the remaining lava rocks, rejoined my newfound companions in the heat chamber. A man who, earlier, had been identified as the local chief, gave a special welcome to me, expressing his thanks that I was teaching and a hope that I would return to join them again. In turn, I thanked him for the opportunity to take part in this special ceremony and affirmed that I would, indeed, come back to take part again. After going around the circle, offering kind and encouraging words to the remaining sweaters, the chief initiated a traditional Navajo mountain song.

With each splash, I felt the heat rise, until it was too much. As the voices' volumes rose, I began to breathe in fire, each inhalation acquiring less oxygen then the last. My mind raced, panick (and pain) set in. I reached in, trying to draw upon a calm, a strength, an invincibility that, simply, was not there. Finally, fearing that something could go seriously wrong with my physical state, I urgently expressed a need to leave the lodge. After a coupld of calls, I exited, rolling out into the cool night air. Of course, I felt weak, but I knew I had done the right thing. Staying in the lodge would have posed a very serious risk to my physical health. I was, it seems, not ready for the 'last round'.

Minutes later, as the other sweaters emerged from the lodge, panting and laughing at the extremity of their actions, they teased me for leaving, but later assured me that almost no 'first timers' made it all the way through the last round. They expressed confident that, with time and increasing acclimation, I would find the strength and calm to endure the rapidly rising temperature. Importantly, they also recommended that I tilt my head down, not up, as it gets hotter. 'Thanks, boys,' I replied- this knowledge would have been of great benefit as I had held on for dear life minutes earlier!

Wednesday night's event further evidenced the tremendous opportunity I have here to learn a great deal about, and fully immerse myself in, a new culture. It is a goal of mine, in life, to continually possess a fascination with, and openness to, the process of putting myself in unfamiliar places, particularly as regards learning about new ways of life. I feel fortunate to have had the opportunity to attend the sweat lodge and look forward to returning in future. Perservering throughout the last round now constitutes something of a right of passage in my mind, that is, something I must find the inner-strength and peace to do. As my cultural education continues and quicken in Northwestern New Mexico, my proximity to these assets becomes closer. I can feel the end of that last round and will report on what it feels like as soon as I know it more intimately.

Cheerio.

Rock, Chalk, and that Ticking Clock: Adentures from Week 11

2007-11-04T11:22:00.000-08:00

Last week was a big one at school. Not only are we settling into our second quarter, and moving closer toward a sense of normalcy in our classrooms, but Church Rock Academy teachers and staff also had their first quarterly 'report-out' to district and state educational officials regarding our progress thus far in the school year. As a first-year teacher, I was not overly-involved in the construction of the presentation that the leadership team made to our audience, however, I felt a sense of responsibility for the results contained therein.

Unsure of how our presentation was being received but confident that we do a lot of good things at the school, comments by our district assessor at the end of the talk provided a sense of pride and inspiration for the CRE staff. Our assessor said that, of all the quarterly report-outs she'd attended this year, ours was the most comprehensive, thorough, and revealing one she'd seen yet. While, again, I did not help put this together, I think her comments speak to the unity and chemistry that we, as a staff, have developed at Church Rock. Much of this is due to the coach-like approach taken by our principla, Gary Schuster, who served as a football coach for many years and strives, above all, to ensure that staff is on the same page and each individual feels valued. This is a divergence, I'm told, from the school's past, and welcome and positive change.

The sense of progress is powerful. I began thinking about how lucky I am to be at Church Rock. Everyone, from the teachers, to the custodians, to the specials instructors (P.E., band, library), to the councilor, plays an important part in what we do, and, in her or his own way, helps kids do well in school. I've been part of many different teams in the past, but never one of this kind. It has always, in the past, been about striving to become better and more effective as a group, but the results rested squarely with us, as opposed to over 200 students for whom our cohesion can mean the difference between a quality educational experience or, well, not.

This week was also big for me, personally, in my classroom. On Wednesday, my program director for TFA, who has been an incredible resource and used to teach at Church Rock, came in to do her 'extended observation' of my classroom. Unsure of how to approach this, I simply decided to do what I always do in terms of preparing and then implementing the lesson plan- nothing special. I felt as though giving her a glimpse of how things normally run in my class would be more beneficial for her and me, as it would allow her to give meaningful feedback I can apply immediately in our normal process in the class. Adding an interesting quirk to the observation was that Wednesday was Halloween, and while most candy consumption comes in the evening, a good number of my students had gone ahead and jumped the gun on that one, beginning the candy intake probably before they even reached school! I knew I'd have my work cut out for me in running a calm, focused lesson for my PD.

The lesson I chose involved direction. We have been learning about maps and map skills, one of which relates to the compass rose, a key element of all good maps, as my students (I hope!) would tell you. On Wednesday, I decided to focus on relative location, that is, the idea that one place rests in a particular direction relative to another. For example, Santa Fe is southwest of Topeka, Kansas. The idea was to introduce the concept and then distribute a worksheet featuring ten city combinations, requiring students to find the relative location of the first city to the other.

The review of our previous lessons to maps statted well. Students recalled, seemingly with ease, the key components of a map, and some different types of maps we'd studied to that point. I had good participation from students with a range of performance levels, which I and my PD thought encouraging. Things were off to a good start.

As I moved into new material (the portion of the lesson in which a new concept is introduced), things continued to go smoothly, I thought. I discussed the concept of relative location, using a globe and map to illustrate my point that two locations have a directional location, and also throwing in the point that, though most cartographers orient their maps so that north is 'up', this need not be the case. To illustrate this point, I flipped the globe upside down and asked students to tell me in which direction north was. Most realized that, though the physical location of the globe had change, north still pointed toward the North Pole, which, now, was at the bottom of the globe. Got it? Well, most of my kids did, and this is the key thing!

After introduction to new material, I had to volunteers pass out our activity on relative location. I gave students my behavioral and performance expectations. They were to work in teams and raise their hands, though not call out to me, if they needed help. I went immediately to some of my lower-performing students, for whom the difference between a successful and unsuccessful day is largely inertiatic. In other words, if they start off well, they will keep going with an assignment. Getting the ball rolling then, is the key. So, I strode over to some of the students I knew would need assistance getting going, and, to my delight, they seemed to enjoy the activity and, not only did they understand the basic requirements, they also worked cooperatively to move forward on it. Nice!

I continued to circle the room. My strongest students were looking good, and I began wrestling with the thought of having them, upon completing the assignment, help other students who had not done so yet. I decided that this would be a good idea, but it didn't come to this as, by the time I was ready to collect the assignment, most students, even the typically quickest workers, had only just finished. In sum, I was pleased with the class' efforts. Though it took some students a while to get going (this is usual with my students), most everybody had completed a good chunk of the assignment, and, more impressively, many had helped their peers do the same. Teamwork, baby- yeah!

After this, and about one hour into our learning day, it was time to take a practice spelling test. I've been giving students ten spelling words per week beyond their grade level. Last week's words were particularly challenging, and I was curious to say how students would perform in our practice assessment (I give the real test on Friday). As we moved into the test, I was, first of all, pleased with the professionalism my students took to testing. They were quiet, attentive, and working hard. We successfully completed the assignment, and then students traded and graded. We were a long way from our class goal of everyone making a ninety percent or above, but results have improved since our first practice test, and I was encouraged.

By this point, my PD had left. I felt unsure as to how she thought things had gone. However, during a quick glance at my e-mail during lunch, I saw that she had sent me a message with sincere and encouraging remarks on what she'd observed in my class that morning. This thrilled me on a number of levels. First, I have tremendous respect for my PD and want to make her proud and show that I consider her suggestions and put them into play. Secondly, since she formed strong connections to Church Rock during her time there and taught siblings of many of my current students, I feel a particular sense of responsibility to do well at this school and meet my responsibilities to families with which she has close ties. Reading that she thought I was making progress in these areas excited me and means a great deal. I felt good about the mornings events.

Looking ahead, I feel increasingly excited, encouraged, and energetic about what we do and will do at Church Rock. I've decided to start a weekend mentoring service, which will allow students to get three hours of extra practice with their work on Saturday mornings. More than that, we'll use computer technology and the internet in our activities, as well as teach students important test-taking strategies that we'd, otherwise, not be able to cover given the time constraints of the school day. Staff response to the idea, with many teachers and even some administrators volunteering to help out. I'm excited to see if we can use this extra time to bolster our students skills enough to bring them up to proficient on their state testing in the spring. After pouring over the number with my two colleagues that also teach 4th and 5th grade students at Church Rock, it became clear that we have a number of students who are knocking at the door of proficiency. Regardless of your stance on standardized testing and its ability to render an accurate assessment of students' academic abilities, the rules of the game are such that schools and students are judged largely based on how many students pass these types of assessments. We play by the rules of the game at Church Rock and, as such, would like to offer our students every opportunity to make the grade come test-time. Hopefuly, the weekend program will make strides in that direction.

Also, coming out of an awesome AmeriCorps conference in Roswell, New Mexico last weekend (yes, I visited the International UFO Museum and, yes, it was awesome, and, yes, I think that there was some sort of government coverup, not necessarily implying that an alien ship crashed in Roswell in 1947, but something occurred other than a weather balloon malfunction- this could be a whole different blogging topic!), I have a good idea, I think, of a service project for Church Rock that would get the community involved and do good things for our school and students. Last Saturday, as part of the 'make a difference component' of our conference, several New Mexico AmeriCorps members visited Pecos Elementary School and went to work on painting and renovating their playground. Forutnately, several of the AmeriCorps members present (not including myself, clearly) were trained artists. They set about creating an incredible 'learning tree' just outside the door that students use to get outside. It was elaborate and incredible. I wrote a message, which always inspired me when I was a kid, on their sidewalk. It read: 'knowledge is power'. I also helped paint lines onto the basketball court, which, before our arrival, was bare. Other service volunteers created four-square and hopskotch areas. By the time we left, the Pecos Ponies had themselves a wonderful, brighter new playing area, and it was great to see the fruit of our effort borne out before us. It was a satisying morning of service.

Leaving the school, I reflected on how easy it would be to replicate what we had done at Pecos at Church Rock. I ran the idea by my principal, and he backed it 100%, suggesting that we might even be able to use school funds to buy paint, tape, and brushes. The way I envision it, staff, students, family, and other community members could come together for a couple of hours on November 10th or 17th to shape up our playground. None of our b-ball courts have lines, and, given the excitement a substantial number of our students hold toward playing this sport, it would be a great thing to spruce up the old courts. Moreover, brightening up our play area, and cleaning up trash in the schoolyard will allow all Church Rock stakeholders to take pride in their school. All of this is designed to bring more people closer together toward the end of increase academic gains for students. If this small project does anything to move toward that noble objective, then I think it is worth it.

Finally, in exciting news, I've got three things for you. First, I had an excellent time traveling out to have dinner with a good friend who lives near Zuni, NM, on Wednesday night. This young lady has been a great resource and friend for me as I transition into this new life, and I was thrilled to visit her. She, moreover, lives in an incredible log cabin, the decoration of which reflects her sophistication and appreciation of multiple cultures. It was a nice evening, and I enjoyed conversating with her, her roommate, and a fellow TFA '07 Corps Member who came over, as well.

Secondly, I ordered a cool, long-sleeve Church Rock t-shirt. Vamos, Bulldogs, vamos!

Finally, G-Force, the team I joined as part of the Gallup Adult Soccer League, has earned a three-seed in the playoffs and wil square off tonight against a worthy opponent in the quarterfinals. We beat our opponents 2-1 in our first game due to an incredible effort from our keeper, my roommate, Josh, from Baltimore. They have been itching for a rematch and will be gunning for revenge tonight. Still, we're up to the task and will approach this game with ferociousnes and a strong desire to advance. Is our soccer pretty- no? Is it effective- hopefully, after tonight, the answer will be a decisive yes.

Cheers from Gallup,

--DBalke

Running for Office

2007-10-28T05:15:00.000-07:00

The last two weeks serve as another example of the exciting place to which I've come in my life. After concluding our first quarter grading period, which lasted nine weeks, teachers and students in Gallup-McKinley County Schools received a week break to collect their thoughts and recover from more than two months of study. It was certainly a challenging time for me, coming in as a new teacher, but as I calculated students' grades and filled out report cards, the rush of what I am currently doing for a profession truly hit me, and I felt thankful, once more, for the critically important opportunity I've come across to change educational inequality in this country for the better.

After spending Monday through Thursday, basking in the glory of a leisurely life of running, reading, writing, and relaxing in Gallup, I headed on up to Denver for the third convening of my Front-Line Leaders Academy (FLLA). As some of you may know, FLLA is a program with which I've been involved since May. It is run by People For The American Way (PFAW), a progressive political advocacy group based in Washington, D.C., which is in the business of training progressive young leaders in the nuts and bolts of running a winning campaign. They encourage us to run young, and, as someone who's long wanted to do this (since November 3rd, 2004), I've appreciated the real-life practice and straightforward criticism and suggestions that our trainers have offered during the first three conferences.

Denver is a cool city! I'd never been before, aside from stopping through in the airport on my way to destinations beyond. However, as we made our way back to the hotel and saw the, I will say, 'post-modern' nature of downtown, I thought that Denver would be a cool place to visit. After reuniting with my other Fellows (there are 20 of us, in total), who are becoming something of a family to me, we began our training. I gave a brief presentation on TFA and my experience with the organization, as several other fellows, most of whom are still in college and all of whom are incredibly passionate, dynamic individuals, have expressed interest to me in applying for, or at least learning more about, TFA.

The presentation went well. I felt comfortable explaining my time as a teacher over the first nine weeks and confident that all the passion I feel for what I'm doing and trying to do with my student, shined through to the other fellows. After my opening statements, my peers asked good, meaningful questions regarding the difficulties of teaching, the logistics of teaching while trying to pay back student loans, as well as the support structure a TFA Corps Member has. I believe that I provided helpful information to my friend and think that many of them will now strongly consider applying for TFA.

After my presentation, we moved into a public speaking session, overseen by our communications guru, political consultant and PFAW staff, Joel Silberman. Joel is an incredible man, coming to the political scene after a long and successful career in the arts. He can sing, act, and, most importantly for us, he knows what looks good in a presentation. His criticism is tough, real, and helpful, and will leave us ready and confident when we step up before crowds to tell them who we are.

I must admit that I was not as prepare to deliver my speech as I would have liked to be. My first draft was written hastily, and I'd not been able to memorize the second draft, as we were supposed to do. However, once I began speaking, rather off-the-cuffedly, I would say, I began to feel more and more confident. I spoke about the ills of educational inequality in Northwestern New Mexico, as well as its connection to economic hardship and environmental degradation. Many of these connections simply make sense, and as I moved through my discourse, I gained steam. Hopefully, this will become a recurring pattern as I give more and more speeches. Gaining confidence as a public speaker was something that would make this weekend particularly special to me.

Dinner on the opening night was outstanding. We went to Bubba Gump Shrimp Co., a charming establishment fashioned, of course, off of the themes of the acclaimed '94 blockbuster, Forrest Gump, a personal favorite and Academy Award winner for Best Picture. We had several engaging speakers, most of whom were young elected officials (YEOs). They included our program's head, Commissioner Andrew Gillum, who is an incredibly charismatic young leader and city commissioner from Tallahassee, Florida and Representative Alisha Morgan (D-GA), who won a state house race as an African American woman in her early twenties in a district largely comprised of the constituency who sent GOP stalwart Newt Gingrich to Congress.

Alisha is a personal favorite of mine in the program. She constantly keeps us focused, especially in terms of why we want to run and, I think more importantly, why we deserve to serve as elected officials. She demands that we find that vision, that motivation that will drive us every day on the campaign trail. I have found mine, and Alisha's constant encouragement and persistence in challenging us to perform at a higher standard has certainly played a great role in my personal development as a leader.

The main speaker of the night was a young state representative from Colorado, who is currently running what will most likely be a successful campaign for state senate. Rep. Mike Garcia (D) spoke to us about being a young, graduate student at the University of Arizona in Tucson, on his way to a career as a political science professor. One day, he received an opportunity to serve as a legislative assistant for a Democratic representative in Washington offered through the Congressional Hispanic Caucus. He loved his experience there and the ability it gave him to play a meaningful role in shaping people's lives in a very real way.

After Rep. Garcia's fellowship ran out, he found himself disinterested in the life of a student and teacher's assistant at U of A. He felt lost and wanted to become involved in the political process in his home state of Colorado. After searching unsuccessfully for a job as a staffer for an elected official at the state legislative level (these positions typically do not exist in the full-time form), it dawned of Rep. Garcia one day, during class, that he should simply drop everything and run for office himself. The issue was, he had no idea how to do say. After doing research and sitting down with his family to plan their campaign in what was one of the most organic, grassroots-oriented manners I've ever heard, he beat out three estalishment candidates as an unknown in the Democratic primary and went on to victory in the general. Mark's story is inspiring and illustrative of the open nature of running for office in our democracy. It shows that anyone, with the right motivation and fire in their heart, can do great things and connect with voters. I hope to run with the same steam that Rep. Garcia exhibited in his first election.

Saturday provided several helpful sessions. We discussed everything from fundraising to communications to ethical campaigning and policymaking. What I appreciate so much about FLLA and similar training institutions in which I've taken part is the very 'real' way in which they prepare trainees to successfully run for office. We all have optimism, but optimism, though critical, will only take one so far. We need skills that will help us be effective, transparent candidates, and FLLA does a great job of providing these skills.

At the close of the day, there was excitement in the air as fellows were to receive their roles in the program's graduation project. The project consists of a simulated election. We were each to be given a role in a campaign, including candidate, campaign manager, communications manager, finance manager, and field manager. Four candidates were to be selected, who would then go to the business of building their team. There was nervous anticipation amongst many fellows, but I felt comfortable in that whatever role I was given, I would do my best to succeed.

When we received our envelopes containing our positions, I calmly and slowly (it was hard to open!) opened mine. The process reminded me of college, when the professor would return tests or papers to the class. Amidst typical chaos, I would always slowly look at mine, often waiting until leaving the class and building altogether to look at my mark. I see no need to flip out in situations of great anticipation. Indeed, as the Good Doctor Mr. Luther King, Jr., once said in one of my favorite quotes from him: 'The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stand in moments of comfort and convenience, but in times of challenge in controvery.' Amidst the controversy, I stayed calm and looked at my envelope.

Candidate. I was confident that this was the role that I would receive, and when I saw my name on the board, and a matching indication on my card, confirming that this would be my role, I felt excited, determined, and ready to get started. After leaving the training site, fellows walked back to hotel in an anxious mass, with many negotiating to determine on which team they would work. I was determined to have my team form organically. After glancing at the list indicating campaign roles, I selected my top-tier candidates for each position and decided that I would wait until a bit later in the evening to make the ask. I walked back to the hotel with Jessica Carter, an incredibly intelligent and charismatic young woman from Philadelphia, Mississippi, currently studying at Cornell. Jessica doesn't know it yet, but she possesses a quite power that draws people to her. I first noticed this quality in Jessica at our first conference in Atlanta, when she stood before the group and told her story of traveling from a tiny town in rural Mississippi to one of the country's most prestigious universities in upstate New York. If that were not enough testimony to the strength, confidence, and ambition of this young woman, she has decided that her political path leads back to her home-state, where she will run for mayor and then...who knows?

Right away, I knew I wanted Jessica on my team, and as soon as we locked eyes, I knew she felt the same way. We began to talk and quickly solidified her position as communications manager in the campaign. FLLA staff has been working with Jessica to open up more as a speaker, and placed her in the communications manager role as a means of helping her along in this regard. I have no doubt that her life experience, creativity, and boldness that will emerge in full-force during the campaign will make Jessica an intricate part of our campaign's success.

The fellows, seeing as how it was our last night together at the conference, decided to go to dinner together. When I arrived in the lobby and stepped off the elevator, my eyes almost immediately locked with Angie Buhl, a razor-sharp, extremely pleasant senior from South Dakota, who I'd identified as the campaign manager I wanted on my team. Throughout the FLLA program, Angie and I had developed a great friendship, and our mutual confidence in one another was evident from early on. As soon as our eyes hooked up, she approached me, and we both were kind of like, 'yeah- we're going to be on the same team!' Since there were not quite enough fellows to fill all positions on all teams, one team member was going to have to do double-duty on my staff. So, I asked Angie if she would feel comfortable, in addition to serving as campaign manager, head up our effort's financial operations. She agreed, and we had the second piece of the puzzle in place!

Jesse Wolfson was the person I knew I wanted to go after to run our field activities. Jesse is a 'super-senior', as he'll excitedly tell you, at Yale, majoring in mathematics and hoping to pursue a PhD. in the same subject beginning next year. He has one of the sharpest minds of anyone I've yet met, and we have connected at a number of political discussions during the courses of the conference. Our outlooks on politics, and the current ruptured state of democracy in our country, largely match. We lament the departure from truth that elected officials seem to make so often, today. We want to work for a time and setting in this country's political setting in which truth, not political calculations, guide policymaking. We want an intricate understanding of all issues, rather than half-baked solutions that, if cleverly-messaged, play well to an unsuspecting electorate. As I said, Jesse specialized in math, but he is rock-solid on any number of topics, particularly politics. I knew I wanted him on board from the word 'go'.

Jesse was my toughest sell. While I felt as though he was leaning toward my camp from the outset, he, in the interest of giving each candidate a fair chance at making their pitch, decided to hear from each person and decide of which team he'd like to be part. As the night progressed, he narrowed his choices to two teams- mine and that of Julianna Andrews, an incredibly charismatic, intelligent student at the University of Arizona. At dinner, Jesse spoke with Julianna and then came to me to offer a chance for me to distinguish my campaign and why he should join. I talked about my unique perspective as a teacher, and the commitment to educational equality resulting therefrom. I argued that, while young progressives have any number of issues that mean most to them, each can agree that progressing toward the type of country and world that we all want, one of equality, justice, fairness, transparent governance, and hope, all starts with offering all children, regardless of background, a fair chance to meet their academic potential. I said that, as a teacher, I had a keen understanding of what that takes, which would shine through during the campaign. Moreover, I told Jesse that this campaign would be ours, not mine. Each person would play an important role in suggesting and developing ideas, whether in terms of policy solutions to pressing problems or planning out the way we will do voter outreach. Eventually, Jesse agreed and decided to hop on board with 'Team Balke'. I was extremely excited to have the confidence and support of this dynamic combination of young minds. Together, we will come up with the ideas and strategy to run a winning campaign. I am thrilled to learn what can achieve, together.

Sunday was our first opportunity to work together as a team in a real campaign situation. The final event on the day's agenda was a debate, which would offer each candidate an opportunity to share her or his beliefs on a number of important progressive issues. The subjects ranged from education, to foreign policy, to the dropping value of the dollar (a question about which I was extremely excited and to which I chimed in immediately to respond). The format was that we would each give a one minute opening statement, respond to two questions from the moderator, have the opportunity to ask each other one question, take two questions from the audience, and then offer a two-minute closing statement.

One minute is not a lot of time. We had what I think was a compelling opening statement planned, which described the inequity I'd observed in my classroom, especially when compared to the opportunity possessed by students in more affluent areas. As one of the staff held up the '30 seconds' sign, I was not even 1/4 of the way through my statement and scrambled to finish up. While I did not botch the statement, it went from what should have been a great strength to a neutral performance. I will work hard to polish this area of my presentation.

As we moved into the questions, I gained steam. I first received a question on 'school choice', which means different things to different people, in many cases referring to school vouchers. I talked about how I think the choice all students should have is that to receive a quality education, regardless of their economic, racial, or social background. I spoke boldly and clearly and think I came off well. Things were off and running.

As we moved along, the other candidates, Mike Makarski (a bold, intelligent, personable young man from New Jersey, who will soon run for school board there), Edwin Zambrano (a passionate, stylish, extremely kind Venezuelan-born community activist from New York City), and Julianna (who, as I said before, is an intelligent, passionate student leader from the University of Arizona), each offered interesting and impressive answers to a wide range of questions. I felt, however, that the message crafted by my team and the delivery I was able to offer, resonated best with the crowd. Moreover, I felt increasingly comfortable and confident, which is precisely what I want most coming out of the FLLA program. I have no shortage of passion or excitement about the issues about which I care most deeply. At times, however, I have felt as though I do not present my beliefs or solutions in as coherent a manner as I would like. This seems to be changing, and I am incredibly excited about that.

When it came time to give our closing statements, I felt determined to make up for my less than stellar performance in the opening. I returned to the cause of educational inequality and my experience as a teacher. I talked about how, while we stand for many important values as progressives, we all stand for giving everyone an equal chance to meet their full potential, particularly with respect to the area of education. Speaking last, I was closing the debate and on a mission to do it well. I looked around the room, connecting with individuals in their eyes, coming to them while staying planted firmly in my chair. I wanted them to feel the passion and fire in my heart about the issue of inequality, of inadequate health care for our country's poor and middle class, and of other issues on which progressive must take the lead if we are to shine as a country. The feeling I experienced reminded me of my long-interview for TFA, when I could feel all the passion and excited I held toward the idea of returning to New Mexico to teaching pouring out of my heart and mind and entering into my interviewer. Things went well on both occassions, and I was pumped as I rose out of the candidate's chair at the close of the debate.

As we move through this campaign, several things will be learned. First, this is the first time I've headed a mature campaign. In college, while running for student senate, which we did successfully, I ran as part of a slate in which I played a key role. However, I did not top the ticket, and there were a numbr of others making decisions to guide our group. Still, I gained valuable experience in that campaign and we enjoyed success. I will certainly translate my experience there into the present effort. We also have to raise money, which I've never done. Reaching out to friends and family to ask for financial support, though seemingly a thing that would create discomfort, is something I feel fine doing. If I believe in myself, which I do, than I should not feel apprehensive about asking others to do what they can to support me. Moreover, I am incredibly blessed to have a number of friends and families who care deeply about me and my personal goals. I look forward to depending on close personal connections to gather financial support for this campaign. Finally, when we come to our final conference in January for the election, I feel confident that our team will have crafted a message and plan that will win the most votes amongst the 200 fellows of the Young People 4 class of 2008 (another progressive, youth leadership program sponsored by PFAW).

The position for which I am running is Youth Ambassador, and my responsibilities are to identify and advocate for the issues that YP4 fellows believe in most strongly and deem most important. I will play a role in YP4 and FLLA's programming and recruitment. There is also the opportunity to travel to different progressive conferences, speaking on the important of youth involvement in the movement, as well as the critical role that young candidates will play in taking our country back from elitist interests and vesting it in the hands of everyday Americans. We have a tremendous task before us, and with my team, I look forward to successfully capturing what is no doubt an amazing opportunity to play a key role in the progressive movement. I ask for your support in this exciting journey.

U.S. House Votes to Label Turkish WWI Attacks Against Armenians as Genocide

2007-10-12T13:16:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday, the United States House of Representatives International Relations Committee voted to label as genocide the mass killings of Armenians by Ottoman forces during World War I. While Turkish Embassy officials and the White House continue to scramble to prevent a vote on the measure in the full chamber, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-CA) seems determined to bring it before members for consideration.

Many have questioned the wisdom (and reason) for bringing up the non-binding genocide resolution up at this time, with countless other measures on the Congressional docket. However, few debate that the atrocities incurred by Armenians at the hands of the Ottoman Empire during the First World War were atrocious and just as many would labe them, collectively, as genocide.

The Bush Administration has been bent on stopping the resolution since rumors that it would come before the International Relations Committee. Geopolitical considerations determine this stance. Turkey offers U.S. military forces key logistical support in the Iraq War, and as it inches closer to EU membership, has been developing a more prominent role in the global economy. Many Administration insiders fear that passage of the genocide measure would generate a severe backsliding in the state of U.S.-Turkish relations, and recent events, most notable the temporary recalling of Ankara's ambassador in Washington, seem to lend credence to their concerns.

The question remains, however, whether or not lawmakers can, ethically, vote against the resolution condemming Ottoman murder of Armenians as genocide in light of political interests. Congressmen can reasonably grumble about having to make the decision of whether or not to support the measure (strengthening ties to Turkey are, afterall, progressive for the U.S.), but if they do, in principle, believe that what occurred was genocide, then there exists a moral requirement that they vote in its favor. A friend put it well to me when, though expressing confusion and a bit of dismay that this resolution had come to the fore at the present time, he said that one must 'call a spade a spade'- that is, if genocide took place, then genocide took place. We cannot deny it, even if doing so might bring us closer to a valued friend. The U.S. must continue courting favor in, and building parnerships with Turkey, but not at the expense of compromising our moral integrity. Let us hope that our Turkish friends realize that, as Speaker Pelosi stressed, a vote in favor of the genocide resolution is a knock on a regime that no longer exists, not those currently laboring to move Turkey toward a better, more prosperous future.

Cheers,

--Daniel

U.S. Economic Embargo of Cuba- 47 years on

2007-10-10T16:38:00.000-07:00

Nearly one-half century ago, the Kennedy Administration, in an effort to put the clamps on an emerging Marxist-Leninist regime in its back yard, slapped an economic embargo on Cuba, which more or less severed all relevant commercial ties between the two countries. At the height of Cold War political gamesmanship, Cuba, not typically recognized as a world power, whether in terms of economic, political, or military might, suddenly became a key pawn in the U.S. and Soviet battle for global dominance. With strong backing from the latter, however, Cuba extended its revolutionary wings into developing countries across the globe. Fallen communist icon Ernesto 'Che' Guevara, (who died forty years from yesterday when he was executed at the hands of Bolivian soldiers and CIA operatives in a plan Washington now admits to having sponsored) spent time not only in other Latin American republics, but also traveled to the Congo in Africa, working to replicate the 'miracle' of the Sierra Maestre in this new, struggling state.

Though the Cuban experiment categorically failed in spreading successful revolution in the many countries in which it was attempted, the commitment of the Cuban population to its ideals (which closely align to Castro's notion of the 'New Man', or a citizen whose main and only aims are to better the welfare of his community and fellow humans), undeniably live on. Moreover, Che and Fidel Castro, Cuba's face since the '59 takeover, have achieved romantic status in the eyes of hundreds of million of Latin Americans and receive the admiration of political frontmen in Venezuela and Bolivia, amongst others. Indeed, U.S. efforts to drum up support for its embargo of Cuba are a perennial laughing stock in the UN General Assembly (this from a former professor who represented the State Department in New York and further evidenced by the paltry number of votes cast in the U.S.' favor whenever the embargo, or other resolutuons speaking ill of the Castro regime, come up for consideration). Many responsible foreign policy strategists and academics recognize that the best way for the U.S. to make the political inroads it desires in Cuba when Fidel and brother Raul pass is not through the total isolation envisioned by the embargo, but rather engagement over common ground and areas for cooperation.

This reality, and the clear understanding that the U.S. and Cuba both stand to gain from diplomatic dialogue, is severely complicated by presidential politics in the former. Cuban exiles represent a large voting block in Southern Florida, a state with a hugely determinative impact on presidential elections. This demographic has a staunchly anti-Castro stance and votes accordingly, leaving any politician hoping to have success in Florida with little choice, it would seem, but to acquiesce to their preference in terms of U.S.-Cuban relations, that is, a continuation of the embargo.

However, this demographic is changing. The children of Cuban expats feel less close to their parents' hatred of the embattled communist leader and tend to vote more liberally. Indeed, we could be nearing a time where politicians from parties both left and right will not have to play to the interests of conservative Cubans in Southern Florida in order to get to the White House. Democratic Rock State/Presidential Candidate Barack Obama (D-IL) recently suggested that, as President, he would engage in diplomacy with Cuban leadership, whether Fidel or brother Raul, and would like to seriously reassess the merits of the embargo. Most other front-runners have not gone as far as Obama, but there is growing acceptance that a turning point in terms of U.S. policy on Cuba has arrived- and not a moment too soon.

The Embargo's Impace:
Nearly 50 years later, the U.S. economic embargo on Cuba has, at best, failed to meet its objectives of 'peacefully' spawning regime change in the island country. At worst, it has been a major culprit in perpetuating the less than stellar welfare condition of its nearly 11.5 million inhabitants. President after president has failed to capitalize on the cultural ties that link Cubans and U.S. citizens. Current President Bush, who quite possibly owes his current job to illegal political maneuvering in the state of Florida, has shied away from utilizing the one extremely obvious thing he has in common with Fidel Castro in order to continue U.S. policy: a love of baseball. Indeed, last summer, the U.S. Treasury Department looked to keep Cuba out of the World Baseball Classic for fear that the country would benefit economically from its participation in the contest, which took place on U.S. soil. This ridiculous objection was eventually dropped, paving the way for a strong showing from the Cubans, but the fact that it was raised initially illustrates the strong misgivings U.S. leaders have toward showing any sort of semblance of endorsement toward, or engaging in even the most lukewarm of engagement with, Cuba, even forty-eight years after the revolutution.

The unfortunate scapegoat of Washington's continued failing policy toward Cuba, of course, is the Cuban people itself. Not only have they have been denied the chance to capitalize on ecomonic opportunities that would undoubtedly result were the embargo lifted, but the U.S. (under Bush and other administrations, Republican and Democrat, alike) has regulated the travel of U.S. citizens to Cuba so tightly that it is now extremely difficult for former Cubans living in the U.S. to regularly visit loved ones. Moreover, students of Latin America and international relations, more generally, myself included, are continiously frustrated by the government's clamp down on scholarly visits to the country (a TA of mine, who was authoring a PhD. dissertation on Cuban history was not even able to travel to the country to conduct research!). Nobody wins in this petty political game, but there are many losers, and they live in both Cuba and the United States.

The Embargo's Larger Implications:
But the negative impact of U.S. policy vis-a-vis Cuba expans beyong the realm of this bilateral relationship, especially under the Bush Administration. Indeed, for a president who has seen his standing in the coutrt of international opinion fall substantially in the aftermath of the U.S. invasion of Iraq, continuing and strengthening the embargo serves as yet another example of a cocky, short-sighted, bullyish to foreign policy. Bush's U.S. has been pegged as unwilling to engage in honest, constructive discussion with those who hold positions that differ strongly from its own. Countering this image holds great promise for what will become Bush's lasting legacy in terms of statesmanship, or lack thereof. However, it will require policymakers within the Executive to bite the bullet and sit down with adversarial operatives abroad. A great place to begin would be Cuba. Forty-eight years on, Castro is not going anywhere- until he passes. His brother, though less on a charismatic figure, will most certainly retain power after his brother's death, and it is unrealistic to expect an immediate sea change in Cuba's political makeup when the country's upper political echelons are finally devoid of the Revolution's leading figures (note the absence of the expected pandamonium after Fidel Castro ceded power to brother Raul last summer following a major medical operation). The best way for the U.S. to pursue its goal of helping to forge a democratic, economically liberal Cuba is to open the realm of dialogue, promote cultural exchange, and discontinue an embargo that has brought, and continues to bring, undue hardship on millions of people in this island country ninety miles south of the U.S.

U.S. Presidential Politics and More on Trade

2007-10-09T16:58:00.001-07:00

Tonight, leading contenders in the GOP race for the presidency will gather in the heart of the realing U.S. automotive sector to debate issues ranging from a possible military confrontation with Iran to the ever-growing trade deficit. This evening's debate is notabe for a couple of reasons. Firstly, it offers potential Republican voters their first glimpse of the oral sparring ability of former actor and U.S. Senator, Fred Thompson, who hopes to raid good looks and an easy-going speaking style all the way to the White House. Thompson has taken heat for getting into the race so late, and some claim he dodged the latest GOP debate, when he chose instead to announce his candidacy for the country's top job on the Tonight Show. While strategists gave Thompson high marks for his scheduling priority that night (the Tonight Show garnered more than twice the number of viewers than did the debate), this evening, Thompson will be put to the test and have to come up with real policy solutions to problems pitched to him by an unforgiving audience. He has been criticized for failing to offer specifics of how to remedy pressing issues such as problems with Social Security, the budget deficit, health care shortcomings, and, oh right, a war in Iraq with no end in sight. Should Thompson fail to produce tonight, he may be cast off as a pretty face with little in the way of real policy solutions to the country's most pressing challenges. The heat is on for Thomspon.

So, why will the audience Thompson and his Republican rivals face tonight be so 'unforgiving'? The answer has a little to do with geography and a lot to with the worsening situation of industrial workers across the country. With the elimination of barriers to global trade that have come about with the emergence of the World Trade Organization and free-trade agreements like NAFTA, U.S. workers have watched their jobs leave the country as corporations employ move abroad to take advantage of lower wage requirements and environmental standards.

Tonight's debate will take place in Dearborn, Michigan, just outside of Detroit, also known as the 'motor city' for its history as the heart of U.S. autmotive production. Courting support from the powerful United Auto Workers union, which represents a large chunk of vehicle manufactuers, used to be a prerequisite for winning the presidency. However, as strong business interests have begun to clamor more intensely for freer trade and less restrictions on their ability to operate in other countries (a.k.a. search out cheaper labor abroad), GOP lawmakers and presidential candidates have become torn over which interest to back: the powerful and politically active automotive industry (as well as other sectors being weakened due to the expansion of global trade, including steel and textiles) or the business community, more generally, who stands to gain from closer economic ties with the outside world.

Thousands of workers across Eastern and Central Michigan have lost their jobs as the U.S. 'big three' automotive companies, Ford, GM, and Chrysler, seek to lighten their load in terms of salary, pension, and benefit obligations. In the U.S., automotive workers have traditionally enjoyed a solid salary, ripe with medical and other insurance benefits, and security in the form of a dependable pension that paves the way for a comfortable retirement. Automobile companies, therefore, saw an opportunity when trade barriers began disappearing as they could move their business abroad, wherein they would face no such obligations in employing workers. Workers in developing countries are willing to work longer hours for substantially less money than their counterparts in the U.S. They also are less inclined to organize, which frees automotive corporations from the harsh confrontations it faces with unions like the UAW in the states.

Unable to opt out of contracts and other guarantees made to employees, U.S. automotive companies have flirted with (or fallen into) bankruptcy, as they try to keep up their business practices and made good on their obligations. They have watched foreign corporations, such as Toyota, replace them as the most successful automobile companies in the U.S. While the 'big three' continually seek ways to reform the way in which they handle worker guarantees, there exists little chance that even the best deal they could hope to strike with U.S. workers would leave them competitive with automotive companies who base their production abroad.

The U.S. automotive industry, then, stands at a crossroads. The only way for Ford, GM, and Chrysler to remain solvent is to develop a strategy that takes full advantage of the global economy and the cheaper labor offered in other countries. The problem for GOP contenders for the presidency is that, with an issue as big as this, country-wide candidates must take a position. With many displaced unionists in the audience, there will be no hop-skotching around the brunt of the problem either. Tonight, each Republican will have to show their cards, revealing whether, as president, they would back specific domestic interests or progression toward a global economy, void of elimination to international trade.

Each GOP hopeful favors trade liberalization on the stump, as the conservative audiences to which they preach, typically, tend to lean toward an easing of restraints. However, each candidate needs to perform well in Michigan, which has moved its primary date up and is now one of the first places in which voters will make their choice known for the Republican nominee. One candidate in a particularly prickly predicament is former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney. He has deep ties to Michigan and is expected to perform extremely well there. Indeed, his father represented the state as governor and entertained a brief push for the White House himself. Moreover, Romney chose Michigan as the place from which to launch his presidential bid, and were he to win there on election day, people would begin to look beyond his leads in other early voting states such as Iowa and New Hampshire and start to see his candidacy as the real deal, even formidable.

However, Romney will have to walk a fine-line when he steps up to the plate in Dearborn tonight. On the stump, he has been forced to cozy to free trade in order to shore up his conservative bona fides (many Republicans criticize Romney as ingenuine, sighting his previous support for abortion and gay rights while running for Senate in Massachusetts in the early 1990s). However, victory in Michigan almost undoubtedly requires the support of blue-collar Republican voters, many of whom have lost their job due to an easing of global trade barriers. Will Romney choose to stick to his conservative, pro free trade mantra, or yield to the calls for protection from Michigan's industrial base?

The answer to this is probably both. Many candidates facing a similar position have opted out of taking a firm position on global trade by stating their support for free-trade deal at the bilateral, regional, and global level, while calling just as vociferously for transitional aid for displaced workers. Unfortunately, just as trade-capacity building money has failed to truly help the plight of farmers in countries with whom the U.S. has FTAs (see yesterday's blog entry), transitional aid has a similarly dismal record in the States. It is not that the amount of money secured for this noble purpose has been insignificant. Indeed, millions of dollars have been offered to workers to look for new jobs or seek retraining in more dynamic, sustainable industries. Medical benefits have even been offered to workers who have been sacked for a period of time while they search for new employment. However, a complicated and largely unpublicized application process has left the percentage of eligible applicants who have actually benefited from transitional aid in the low single digits.

Another common copout amongst GOP candidates regards taxes. Some, such as former Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee claim that the real culprit in the lessening share of U.S. blue-collar corporations in global income shares is not a freer international trade scheme but, rather, the 'immense' tax burden they face. True, U.S. businesses must pay back more to government coffers than their counterparts abroad, but the solution to their predicament can scarcely be solved by lowering taxes. However, playing this card allows Huckabee to score a two-fold political victory amongst conservative loyalists. On one hand, he continues along the party line on trade, praising its merit and pressing for further liberalization. On the other, he argues that the key for U.S. businesses to succeed in a new, looser trade climate rests with the government ability to lower taxes. Win-win!

In sum, what we can expect to see from Republican candidates tonight is high-octane political rhetoric, aimed to please as many key constituencies as possible (while working hard not to upset others) and little in the way of meaningful policy proposals. The real answer on the U.S.'s seemingly paradoxical free trade conundrum rests in early recognition and enhanced and enlarged access to education. Blue-collar industries in Michigan and other locales across the country are dying. They are dying because citizens cannot feasibly adapt to a new way of generating income, that is, shifting away from car production, coal mining, steel production, and other industries that are losing out to similar activities abroad. What needs to happen is a recognition by policymakers that, in the interest of these workers, their children must be offered the incentives to prepare themselves to, instead of carrying on the family tradition, immerse themselves in knowledge that will allow them to gain employment in another, more sustainable field.

However, as millions of Americans know all too well, education aint cheap! The same government that travels the world in search of reducing trade barriers and opening borders to international commerce must simultaneously address the negative offshoots of these activities on the domestic population. Policymakers in Washington should identify the regions that stand to be hit hardest by freer trade and divert extra financial resources to these areas to ensure that young people have every opportunity to obtain a college education and spread their professional wings in any area they see fit. There are numerous other things that must be done to ensure that all U.S. inhabitants feel the benefits that free trade theoretically guarantees. However, hiding behind falty, insincere solutions that play well among focus groups and key constituency groups that a politician hopes to court in hopes of winning an election is worse than a non-answer- it is a disservice to their country.

Also, forty years ago from yesterday, Ernesto 'Che' Guevara, the Argentine doctor and Cuban Communist Revolutionary was executed in te jungles of Bolivia. Across Latin America and the developing world, more generally, Guevara is remembered as a committed activist for the plight of the global poor, while in the U.S. and other rich countries the thought of this emboldened leaders conjures up thoughts of an impractical and altogether dangerous vision for society. Whatever the case, Che's memory has left a lasting legacy on the ongoing Cuban Revolution and that country's relations with the U.S., which has maintained an economic boycott against the island for more than forty years. A future blog entry will analyze Che's effect on Cuba's path over the last half-century, as well as the extent to which the U.S.'s approach to relations vis-a-vis Cuba has helped or hindered each country's development and prosperity. It will also look at the way in which U.S.-Cuban relations could influence the '08 U.S. presidential election.

Free Trade Agreement Passess Narrowly in Costa Rica

2007-10-08T17:30:00.001-07:00

Today, voters in the Central American country of Costa Rica took to the ballot box and voiced their opinion on a controversial free-trade agreement (FTA) with the United States and several other countries throughout the region. The Dominican Republic-Central American Free Trade Agreement (DR-CAFTA) has sparked deep divisions amongst Costa Rica's political factions, playing an insrumental role in the country latest presidential elections, which took place in February 2006 and was won by former president and Nobel Peace Laureate Oscar Arias by a measly .22%. All of DR-CAFTA's signatory countries, the U.S., Dominican Republic, Costa Rica, Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, and Nicaragua, experienced bitter domestic political debate rearding the pact, but only Costa Rica had yet to fully implement the agreement and allowed voters to determine the final decision via a highly-competitive referendum vote. With 95% of the results in, it appears as though DR-CAFTA will have slipped by in Costa Rica, but its ultimate fate is not yet sealed, as opposition officials have vowed to not accept the result until a manual recount of votes is complete.

Costa Rica's battle over DR-CAFTA represents a microcosm of the broader war being waged by left- and right-wing forces across Latin America over trade, particularly that taking place with the U.S. Uncle Sam's harshest critics in the region, Venezuela's leader Hugo Chavez and Bolivian frontman Evo Morales, have voiced strong opposition to expanded U.S. influence in the region, especially in terms of economics and, more specifically, trade policy. Chavez, flush with cash from oil revenues (Venezuela is a leading global producer of oil and OPEC member), has even proposed a counter to Washington's vision of a Free Trade Area of the Americas, which seeks to eliminate all barriers to international commerce in North and South America, from Alaska in the north to Tierra del Fuego in the Argentina in the south. Chavez's plan, known as la 'Alternativa Bolivariana para las Americas' (ALMA) in honor of the Latin American patriot and independence leader Simon Bolivar, has turned heads in both Washington and the region, but won little support among even Latin America's most left-leaning leaders, including Brazil's Luis Ignacio 'Lula' Da Silva and Argentina's Nestor Kirchner (Kirchner's wife, Christina Fernandez, who is heavily favored to succeed her husband as president in elections later this month).

Opponenets of freer trade find support for their arguments in the worsening condition of millions of rural farmers in countries with which the U.S. has a trade accord. Most notable of these examples is the plight of corn campesinos in Southern Mexico. These individuals have seen sales of their product dwindle in light of the flood of heavily-subsidized maize from agri-business giants (including Cargill and Archer, Midland, Daniels) in the U.S. that has come about as a result of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA). Not only does NAFTA threaten the financial livelihoods of Southern Mexican farming families, it also endangers their culture (note that corn farmers in Southern Mexico have engaged in this practice for thousands of years).

Now, with U.S. big business having cornered the Mexican corn market, via the reduction of trade barriers through NAFTA, prices are rising, leaving Mexicans struggling to obtain a vital component of their daily diet (reports have it that corn prices eat up as much as 1/4 of some Mexicans' salaries). Moreover, the brand of corn exported to Mexico from the U.S. is not of the same stock as its Mexican counterpart. Mass-produced, U.S. maize is less filling and less nutritious than Mexican corn, leaving those Mexicans fortunate enough to have found employment after being forced from corn farming without the energy they need to make it through their day.

NAFTA's harmful effect on the Mexican corn industry also has meaningful links to the U.S. immigration debate. Seeking employment in burgeoning border factories, or maquiladoras, hundreds of thousands of displaced farmers have left their families in the south for higher-paying jobs along the border. Many, however, don't stop there, sneaking in to the U.S. in search of even more attractive wages. Conservatives in the U.S. Congress have largely ignored NAFTA's impact on the immigration problem, and for understandable reasons. Conservatives were the driving force behind NAFTA's passage thirteen years ago, and now are the voices speaking most adamantly against expanding illegal immigration. Were they to admit that this issue is largely of their own doing, it might unearth many of the contradictory approaches those in the GOP often take to domestic issues, more generally, further alientating voters already increasingly inclined to go blue in elections.

Turning to the Andean region, citizens in Colombia and Peru have drawn the battle lines and are pointedly debating the outcome of current FTAs with the U.S. Both countries' legislatures have passed the agreements (and the U.S. House seems to finally moving toward ratification of the Peru treaty, though the fate of the Colombia FTA seems less decided), but those opposed to expanded trade with the U.S. are crying out no less strongly because of it. Their objections mirror those levied by Mexican corn farmers. Subsidized agriculture from the U.S. will flood their markets, driving prices down to below the cost of production, and force thousands of farmers out of business. In the case of these true countries, the U.S. approach is, as with Mexico, blatantly contradictory, with our trade policy conflicting sharply with our foreign policy aims. On one hand, we condition substantial amount of aid to Colombia and Peru, two of the world's largest producers of coca, a key ingredient in refined cocaine, on their willingness and ability to cut production of the illicit crop (in Colombia, we sponsor aerial eradication efforts on coca, while in Peru, we sponsor manual, ground-level elimination- both of which have had reportedly devastating environmental effects in the regions in which they take place). On the other, we seem to have little problem driving agriculturalists in these countries, already struggling to eke out a living, away from producing licit goods and into the more lucrative coca industry.

Again, Congressional conservatives in the U.S. try, but cannot, have it both ways. Republicans have been keen to promote U.S. aid to Colombia in an effort to shore up continued support from the Administration's top ally in Latin America. However, this aid does little to establish alternative development programs for the farmers it means to move out of coca-production and into other agricultural programs, focusing instead on forced eradicaiton of coca and violent repression of armed, leftist insurgents in Colombia's southern regions. It is these same congressional conservatives pushing most strongly for passage of the U.S.-Colombia FTA, which would move even more farmers away from licit production and toward growing coca. The aim of these GOP lawmakers is two-fold. On one hand, they hope to push off blame for the U.S.'s drug problem onto supplier countries like Peru and Colombia, while at the same time opening up economic opportunities for key business and agricultural interests in their constituencies. The loser in this equation is the Colombian farmer, who would see her or his livelihood threatened by dirt-cheap U.S. agriculture and a closing door on the possibility of coca production (which, by the way, this blogger certainly does not support). In this environment, it is little wonder that so many agriculturalists in the Andean Region have opposed closer trade ties with Washington.

Opponents of the U.S.-Andean trade agreements also level valid criticisms against the agreement's handling of Colombian labor standards and the status of workers' rights in the country. While having ratified the International Labor Organization's core agreement on the rights of workers, it is well-known that Colombia is one of the most difficult places for laborers to organize, as well as one of the most dangerous places to live for a union leader (kidnaps and even murders are commonplace). Congressional Democrats have, as a result, called for explicit mandates within the text of the U.S.-Colombia FTA protecting the rights of workers as a prerequisite for their support, which is necessary to pass the agreement. Moreover, with Democrats now controlling both chambers of Congress, Rep. Charles Rangel (D-NY) and Senator Max Baucus (D-MO), chairmen of the House Ways and Means Committee and Senate Committee on Finance, respectively (the bodies that oversee the consideration of trade deals) have conditioned any consideration of the deal on assurances that violations of workers' rights as laid out by the ILO core conventions will result in the revocation of the U.S.-Colombia FTA's preferential treatment for Colombian exports. It seems that things are finally headed in this direction, but passage of the FTA is all but assured and serves as a vivid reminder of the Bush Administration's and Congressional Republicans unwillingness to truly incorporate Democratic priorities into their trade policy and approach to negotiations.

Given the struggles of millions of Latin American farmers, who have seen their condition deteriorate in the face of expanded trade with the U.S., it can hardly seem surprising that Costa Rican citizens would view DR-CAFTA with a cautious eye. What will become of agriculturalists in this country? True, DR-CAFTA, thanks to the tireless effort of pragmatic Democrats in the Senate who sought to include in the agreement trade capacity building (which is money aimed to help farmers adversely affected by trade deals surivive financially), does at least consider the negative possible impacts to producers in signatory countries. However, thousands will lose from this deal, and the track record of trade capacity building in DR-CAFTA countries that have already implemented the deal is less than stellar. The war over trade in Latin America wages on. Whether or not the benefits of freer trade create meaningful benefits for citizens in the region aside from the powerful elite who control economic activity in these vastly unequal societies remains to be seen. Much of this has to do with the action and policy employed by lawmakers in Washington. I encourage each of you to become cognizant of the potential impact, both good and bad, of U.S.-Latin American trade relations and encourage your representatives in Congress and at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue to do the same.

Cheerio,

--Daniel

Do we know what true actions means?

2007-10-07T17:30:00.000-07:00

What does it mean when the world's champion of democratic causes, the Bush Administration, turns its head to ugly and blatant violations of human rights that beat strongly against the pulse of authentic popular government? Well, just as many of you already undoubtedly conclude when searching for correlations between the Bush Administration and a sincere commitment to democracy, this president is a democrat in name only. Surely, if significant economic or political interests are on the line and would be benefited by the defense of democracy abroad, then the Administration has little trouble taking extreme measures to impose its brand of democratic governance. Witness, of course, the ongoing invasion of Iraq in which the U.S. deposed a brutal authoritarian and implemented steps toward free and fair elections. Nevermind that the U.S. misadventure in Iraq has cost nearly half of one trillion dollars and that hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians in that country, as well as almost four thousands U.S. have lost their lives. The U.S., under Bush, seeking a foothold in the Middle East had no problem invading Iraq under the guise of a commitment to democratic government and overthrowing Hussein's regime.

Examples of the Bush Administration supporting or at least not speaking or acting against a less than savory regime appear in many other instances, as well. Examples include Mubarak's quasi-dictatorship in Egypt, a country which continues to rank second amongst recipient's of U.S. aid. Also, in Sudan, wherein domestic violence has resulted in the killing of several hundred thousand innocent civilians in the Darfur Region, as well as the displacement of millions more, the U.S. has turned a blind eye toward real action. Though supporting a resolution calling for the deployment of a UN peacekeeping force to the region, it has failed to put significant pressure on the Sudanese government to stop stalling the beginning of the force's work. The U.S. could issue a country-wide divestment from economic activity with the Sudanese government, boycotting and penalizing business entities that continue to do business with the country (note the lack of trouble the Administration has supporting an absolute economic boycott of Cuba, which has proven ineffective at advancing our aims there and worsened the welfare of the island countries several million inhabitants- if this doesn't seem to make sense, don't worry- it doesn't). In Saudi Arabia, the world's leading petrol exporter, the U.S. continually turns a blind eye to blatant discrimination against women and quasi-democratic governance. In Thailand, moreover, we sat by and watched a coup displace a democratically-elected (although admittedly ineffective) government from power, while we supported the deposing of Hugo Chavez, another democratically-elected official, because he is one of the most openly anti-U.S. leaders in the world. The point is three-fold. Firstly, the Bush Administration, while touting itself as the world'sleading defender of democracy, picks and chooses the scenarios in which it will back this form of governance, largely based on its economic and, or political interests. Secondly, it is ignoble and disgustingly contradictory for the president to claim a genuine support for democracy when it is, at best, implemented in an ad-hoc manner. Finally, following a promotion of democracy that is so contextually-dependent is irresponsible foreign policy and leaves our potential international partners unsure of what they will get in terms of the U.S. executive's commitment to democracy. Real and lasting partnerships are difficult to create in this setting.

Now, turn to Burma. For more than forty years, a military junta has ruled the country without any semblance of deomcratic intentions. Despite valliant, peaceful efforts from opposition leaders including Nobel Peace Laureate Aung San Suu Kyi to create a system of democracy, the junta has maintained its stranglehold on power in Burma, while world powers stand idly by, immune to any humanitarian or moral concerns for the Burmese.

Recently, Buddhist monks in the country, insulted and outraged by yet another unjust mandate by the junta on an already economically-ravaged populace, this time in the form of a gas tax hike, took to the streets in peaceful protest marches of unprecedented size and strength. Ordinary citizens, emboldened by the bravery of the reveled religious figures, joined in the call for change and a movement toward a more democratic system. As the world looked on, the junta, growing more and more anxious by the seeming lack of concern of protesters at the possibility of a violent put-down, took to the streets and simply mowed-down the movers and shakers.

Naturally, the world's leading promoter of all things democratic, President George W. Bush, sounded the alarm, issuing a meaningful, urgent call for a halt to the violence and change in Burma- right? Wrong. Instead, before a convening of the United National General Assembly, Bush tightened U.S. economic sanctions against the East Asian countries, with whom the U.S. has fiscal relations that are, to put it mildly, less than significant. Moreover, even were the U.S. and Burma more instrumental to one another's economic well-being, the merit of economic sanctions is, at best, disputable. In some instances, they have indeed had a significant impact on the behavior of evil regimes. In South Africa, for instance, as more and more countries and institutions across the world began to boycot business with the country, the racist regime had no choice but to cede power, ushering in a new day of democracy headed by one of this generation's most notable statesman, Nelson Mandela.

In their worst form, however, economic sanctions, in addition to not having their desired impact, actually harm the same populations they mean to serve. By denying business and revenues to a country's government and business entities, jobs can indeed be lost and vital sources of government support (even if vastly insufficient and ridden with corruption) are cut off, which worsens already horrendous living conditions for disaffected civilians.

In the case of Burma, the outside country with the most potential to implement measures capable of changing the junta's violent, decidedly undemocratic behavior is China. However, in the United Nations Security Council, a body which, if united, can indeed elicit desirable behavioral changes from member states, China (and Russia) have balked at supporting meaningful actions meant to reverse the violent trend, claiming the matter an internal affair not to be mettled with by the outside world. China is a vital market for Burmese exports and a key partner in the Association of Southeast Asian Nations, an organization that continues to argue that opening Burma to close economic ties with the outside world is the best solution to its archaic domestic political system (in fact, this rhetoric hides many of the IGOs true intentions, wihch are to plunder resource-rich Burma of its hydrocarbons, timber, and other goods, which, of course, adds insult to injury in terms of the well-being of the Burmese masses).

Were China to issue a serious call for the Burmese junta to shape-up and begin moving toward free and fair elections, as well as insisting on a more meaningful political role for the opposition National League for Democracy, headed by Ms. Suu Kyi, it would little choice but to change its ways. However, it seems clear that China is less than willing to do so, as are other of Burma's critical trade partners, which means that the United States has a responsibility to pressure these parties to act. The Chinese economy, though surging ahead at unparalleled and unprecedented levels, depends tremendously on U.S. consumers on a market for its goods (note that the U.S.-China trade balance tips in favor of the latter to the tune of more than $200 billion per annum). Any U.S. restriction on the importation of Chinese goods would hit U.S. consumers, and Chinese exporters hard, but it would, at the very least, cause the country to think twice about its posturing on the issue of sending a serious call for change to the Burmese leadership.

Moreover, the U.S. could issue a call for top domestic athletes, as well as others from around the world, to boycott the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing, an event China is hoping to use to show off its impressive push toward modernity. Without the presence of the world's leading athletes, the games would, to some extent, lose their luster, in turn weakening China's ability to showcase itself as a world leader.

Third, the U.S. could sponsor, and continue sponsoring, a resolution in the Security Council calling for a reconciliation force to be sent to Burma to force the junta to a: respect the rights of peaceful protesters (a right enshrined in the UN's Declaration of Human Rights) and b: encourage the movement toward meaningful talks between the junta and the opposition NDL party.

The time for the Bush Administration to stop trying to have it all ways on democracy has come. The lives of peaceful protesters and the well-being of millions of Burmese depend, to a significant extent, on real and touch action from the president and other policymakers in Washington. Action must come. It must come now. Let the U.S. stand up and be the international leader it could and should be.

Cheerio,

--Daniel

Week seven, fall, friend, and music

2007-09-23T18:14:00.000-07:00

One melts into two. Two fades to three. Three comes as quickly as the last, and before you know it, five stares you dead in the face. Then, without warning, six has come and gone. That’s right, folks. At Church Rock Academy, we are entering our seventh week of school. Report cards go out in three more weeks, and I’ve just finished grading a test and quiz that will instrumentally form my youngsters’ quarterly marks. What can be the assessment at this point in the game? Well, everyday, we learn a little something new about one another, that is, the students and me. Each day, small battles are fought, whether it means working to become more closely in touch with the feelings of your students, or more fully becoming able to show them why it is that you do the things that you do. As surely as one week flows into another, each day brings with it minute triumphs and small, but notable progress. A synopsis is indeed in order, but first a word on autumn.

I’ve always loved the fall. The way the air increasingly gains a crispness hinting at the cooler months ahead; the way the days slowly become shorter and the darkness hangs out longer during both morning and night; the readiness of sweaters (and long johns) to emerge from deep within the doldrums of one’s closet; the growing appropriateness of a tea for breakfast; the leaves falling off their trees; the pumpkins’ and Halloween costumes’ reawakening after three seasons of inactivity; the excitement that high school football brings to enthusiastic young people and their families, nostalgic for Springsteen’s ‘glory days’, bring a smile to my face and mind; they each call to mind an excitement that only manifests itself at this time of the year. In this corner of New Mexico, and as I make my way to school in ever colder mornings, I close my eyes and reflect on a happiness that this time of year brings and I hope never stops.

Back to school, karma police seem to rule the day. If I’ve put in the time developing a solid lesson, the rewards abound. In other words, my effort directly impacts the actions and attention/interest of students. They can tell when unpreparedness is afoot even more quickly, sometimes, than I know it is there. Karma? Well, yeah, karma. What I do comes around in the classroom. I notice that the most important gains come when I am able to spend meaningful time with students in a one-on-one manner. I’ve retreated from trying to work with as many students as possible as quickly as possible. I would rather make a connection with a student and help her or him perform well on a lesson than have visited, often ineffectually, fifteen. This reverts to the old adage ‘quality not quantity’. I buy in, and think my students, based on their performance when I am able to personally work with them, do, too.

We, as I mentioned, will issue report cards in three weeks and then break for one. Too many students are still not turning in their homework, coming up with increasingly unbelievable (and often humorous) excuses as to why they could not. I don’t buy any of it. If it’s not there on their desk when I come to check and give credit, then it is as if they’ve never done it all. Learning and practicing responsibility is an important, indeed critical, part of personal development, and by golly, I’m going to work to see that my students make strides in this area by the time we’re through.

Many students are up and down. On one day, they will be incredibly into a lesson, participating and contributing readily, whereas, on others, their sole purpose seems to be wreaking havoc on my lesson delivery efforts. This confounds my ability to understand children, as, just when I think I have figured a little something out, one of the whippersnappers (yes, I am a seventy-five-year old) acts in a way that totally throws me back into a state of bewilderment. Perhaps I should be happy about having a job with such marked twist and turns. Yes, perhaps.

At the same time, I become increasingly attune to the fact that, at the end of the day, my kids are really special and good. I hear horror stories from roommates and friends about students using truly awful language, saying alarming things about what they might do to their friends, teachers, and selves, and, in the worst of cases, following through. What can bring such pain and hurt into a human heart? Can the conditions of one’s home, one’s community, indeed one’s own mind bring them to a point where the only release is to bring pain unto themselves or others? Well, I reckon they can, which makes me feel all the more blessed that the most severe of my trouble with students to date is excessive talking, note-passing, and a lack of attentiveness. This, I can handle. A students hurting her or himself, I could not, I think. Hopefully, I will never know for sure.

One of the most exciting weeks of the season to date occurred last week, when an incredibly special friend, who is a first-year teacher in Las Vegas, came to visit and enjoy Gallup. She is a remarkable young person, exceptionally dedicated to her class and students, and one who lives life with a zeal that is the envy and goal of most. She, ever modest of her own abilities, nearly refuses to take credit for the progress she is so obviously making as an educator, but, after observing her with my students when she came to help teach a lesson on the U.S. Constitution last week, and when all my students could do the next day was ask about her and if and when she was coming back, there exists zero doubt in my head that she is a uniquely skilled teacher and that her students will benefit exponentially, both in terms of academic progress and personal development, under her guidance. In other news, we had a great time exploring the many charming facets of life in Gallup, and I was stoked that she met a good portion of my closest friends here. Hopefully, she’s reading this while enjoying the company of her family, remembering that she is missed, and reveling in the many comforts of home.

Finally, I was published, sort of. A local weekly newspaper called the ‘Gallup Herald’ ran a piece I wrote, initially solely for this blog, regarding a Gallup-McKinley County Schools Board of Education meeting I attended at which only one member was present to review results of the districts’ abysmal steps toward reaching No Child Left Behind’s ‘adequate yearly progress’ (AYP). I have a friend at the Herald who kindly donates twenty-five papers each Tuesday for my students, and he passed the piece on to his editor, who, apparently, though it worthy of putting into the paper. I didn’t even know I’d made it in until Thursday, when a colleague complimented me for it and said that she agreed with a lot of the points I’d developed (which was especially complimentary given that she has served as an educator for some thirty years!). So, to view the piece, all you need to do is review my last blog entry and the last paragraph thereof, which is titled something like, ‘In Closing, A Note of Concern’.

Well, the weekend was great. Even though G-Force dropped a 4-1 decision today in Gallup’s adult soccer league, bringing us to 1-1 on the season, I read a ton and finished a couple of great books, including Jimmy Carter’s ‘Palestine: Peace Not Apartheid’, which makes an extremely compelling case that U.S. policy vis-à-vis Israel and the Arab-Israeli Conflict, more generally, is fundamentally misguided, unjust, and quite often against our interests as a county. I appreciated the former president’s (perhaps my favorite prior resident of 1600 Pennsylvania) insights, especially given my upcoming visit to the region and the helpful information he offers regarding the deep history and current issues surrounding the conflict. Thanks, pop, for sending. Also, Friday night offered a great chance to see Church Rock Academy’s star music teacher, with whom I’ve become good chums, live in action performing with his jazz band at a popular local watering hole. It was a great way to close the workweek. On to week seven. The last sentence, since I’m currently listening to them, must be go a little something like this: Radiohead is amazing, and denying this is a disservice to promoting rationality, as well as just a blatantly inaccurate statement about music. Cheers.

Soccer, Art Crawl, and Exciting Travel Opportunity

2007-09-09T12:52:00.000-07:00

Another Sunday is here, and, with it, a delightful breakfast of oatmeal, wheat toast, and coffee at Earl’s Diner, a staple along Route 66 in Gallup, New Mexico. As I reflect on the past week, a good week, to be sure, I think about the excitement that comes with laying routes somewhere, particularly a place as historic as this city. This Friday, we were delighted at Church Rock by the presentation of Albert Smith, an 80+-year-old former Navajo Codetalker, whose tails of his experience before, during, and after World War II riveted admiring students and left them antsy to get at the veteran with some questions. While many, indeed most students, had heard of the Navajo Codetalkers, I don’t think enough of them had a knowledge of the profound influence their work during WWII (and other conflicts up until Vietnam) had an ensuring the preservation of U.S. prosperity. Albert arrived just before nine, to the surprise of our secretary Judy. Many thanks to the janitorial crew of Tony, Bobby, and Fred for quickly readying a table, seat, and microphone for Albert (in retrospect, I should have alerted other staff about Albert’s coming much further in advance; I will do a better job of this next time!). At the end of his talk, our attendance secretary, Grace, presented Mr. Smith with a commemorative Church Rock Academy Bulldog pin. Next to his numerous medals of accolade for service and bravery, hopefully this memento will also provide him with joy and pride.

In addition to recounting his time as a soldier during WWII, Albert spoke to students about the importance of taking good care of themselves, working hard in school, and preserving their heritage by learning to Navajo language. He stressed that the youngsters need to get enough sleep, eat well, and ensure that they pay attention in class. He said that he had difficulty upon returning home from the war. On one hand, he had suffered, as had thousands of other veterans, deep emotional distress stemming from the horrific things he had seen in combat. Also, however, he found it extremely difficult to obtain a quality job with his eighth grade education (which he quickly rectified by returning to school and picking up a high school degree). He said to students that, looking around the gymnasium, he saw eyes that were tired, students that were elsewhere in terms of their mindset, which he found concerning given that the young people populating the bleachers represented the future of his and their Navajo heritage.

In sum, it was a great honor to have Albert come and speak. Despite being upwards of eighty, he keeps an extremely active schedule, traveling regularly to promote a book he helped publish on Codetalkers, as well as lecturing on the topic to audiences ranging from young, elementary school students to high-ranking Defense Department Officials. I think the staff, myself included, might have found Albert’s presentation even more interesting than the kiddos! As I reflected last week, the contribution made my Native American soldiers to the military success of this country, particularly with respect to Codetalkers during WWII, has been almost disgustingly underemphasized in or, worse, omitted from the historical literature. Albert’s talk ensures that Church Rock students will not go without knowledge of the hugely significant role played by their relatives.

Soccer League Opens:

Tonight, I have my first game as part of the ‘G Force’, a team that I and a few other New Mexicorps members joined in the Gallup Adult Soccer league. Yesterday, a few of these comrades and I went down to the park to kick the ball around a bit and ready for tonight’s battle. It reminded me of just how much I love the sport of soccer, which I think to be the best in the world. While I played tennis longer and more competitively than any other sport, I believe soccer offers a beauty unparalleled by any other sport. Moreover, the way in which the game infuse and enthrall an entire country’s culture and psyche is remarkable. The dynamic of the game itself also conjures thoughts of equity and justice. I think of it as the ultimate equalizer. I think this because, in soccer, a team that can defend well can compete with anyone. Even if a squad has far less in the way of flashy talent or physical size, if it can somehow claw out success on the defensive end, rendering opponents scoreless, there always exists a chance that a well-played counteract can result in a monstrous upset. This manifests itself in international competition in riveting upsets of small, often unheard from countries upsetting traditional pariahs and, more interestingly, former colonial rulers. Note, for example, Senegal’s enthralling 1-0 upset of France in the opening game of the 2002 World Cup in Japan/South Korea. Going into the game, bookmakers scoffed at the chance of tiny Senegal to pull of the unlikely upset over the defending Cup champion, but with solid, tenacious defense and a single, glorious offensive sequence, Senegal did the unthinkable, sending the country into a joyous whirlwind and paving the way for an even more improbable run to the contest’s quarter-finals. Now, with all this talk of upset, does it mean I am betting on Novak Djokovic to upset Roger Federer in today’s U.S. Open Men’s Final? Not a chance!

Art Crawl:

Gallup holds an ‘art crawl’ on the second Saturday of every month. What this means is that art galleries and other stores that line historical downtown Coal Street open their doors in the evening, inviting in locals and tourists to check out some of the wonderful pieces of local, regional, and international artists, and also providing them with live music and snacks. Last evening, I happily took part in what I hope is the first of many Gallup art crawls. I think these events embody the charm of Gallup. The hub of Native American art and jewelry in the Southwest and, some argue, across the country, the art on display last night was remarkable. Some pieces illustrated the region’s breathtaking environmental beauty, while others made political statements. One memorable painting, which the proprietor of the popular downtown gallery and jeweler, the ‘House of Lyndon’, told me had been painted in 1982, juxtaposed the painting of six Ute Indians in the upper-left hand corner with a white man wearing a suit from the Bureau of Indian Affairs. The owner of ‘Lyndon’s’ informed us that the piece’s artist told him that the point of the painting was for the observer to decide which of the six Native Americans had shot the BIA official, who was missing a left! Talk about hard-hitting! The piece was $450 dollars. The gallery owner told me and a couple of other TFA chums that we could set-up a payment plan. We smiled at each other and told him we’d be in touch when teacher’s wages were a bit more conducive to establishing quality art collections.

In addition to paintings, the gallery offered an extensive pottery collection, some of which had taken away prizes and high marks from regional shows and contests. The precision and care with which artists approach the pottery, jewelry, and other hand-crafted works I have had the pleasure of observing since coming to Gallup never fails to amaze and humble me. If you plan a trip to Gallup, do your darndest to align it with the second Saturday of the month in which you are coming. The ‘art crawl’ is, to put it mildly, a treat.

Enjoying the crawl last evening also hinted at the roots I am slowly but surely putting down in this charming Northwest New Mexico town. I saw several acquaintances I have made since moving here and enjoyed conversing with them in the cool night air, which hinted that autumn is quickly approaching. Moreover, a friend who writes for a local paper and is also a skilled musician performed to the delighted ears of many observers. The music teacher at Church Rock Academy, a remarkable man named Randy whose career has taken him across the world, first as a child professional and, during his adult years, as an acclaimed performer and teacher of music. The kids at Church Rock love Randy, and talked last night about pairing him and another friend I saw last night who also performs regularly on the local music scene for a concert at school. After seeing so many friendly faces over the course of the evening, I could not chuckle when reflecting that, over the course of 24 hours, I had probably seen over 50% of the folks I’ve met since moving to Gallup within a 40-feet radius. On Friday, I ate dinner at the Coal Street Pub, a popular restaurant for teachers. Saturday morning, I did my regular coffee and paper at ‘The Coffee House’ just down the road on Coal Street. By the time, I popped out of the ‘House of Lyndon’ (also on Coal Street) and made my way home, I had seen and visited with almost the whole crew. This hints at the small-town charm and closely-knit communities that characterize so many towns across the Land of Enchantment. This dynamic is one of the things I find most endearing about my home state and look forward to enjoying for years to come. When people are close together, there exists a prime opportunity to bond, and, to be sure, life offers no greater gift than building strong relationships.

Travel Opportunity:

I will close with something that will undoubtedly result in a worried phone-call from mom. Last Sunday, I met with someone who is quickly becoming a dear friend. This particular person, an ’03 New Mexicorps member, helped start a successful edible garden at her high school, a project I, and other ’07 CMs, are interested in taking on at our respective schools. In addition to this, our conversation hopped around many other, exciting topics, including this young woman’s experience earning her masters in international development as part of program at a university in Southern New Hampshire. She described to me a particularly impressive and inspiring classmate by the name of Anwar, a Palestinian man who runs a microfinance non-profit, headquartered in Ramallah in the West Bank.

(A quick word on microfinance: microfinance, in essence, is an international movement to issue small loans to working-class, typically impoverished citizens to expand their business opportunities. Most microfinance beneficiaries have been women, though men are taking advantage of the initiative, as well. There exist hundreds of microfinance banks and lenders across the world, operating in places from Bangladesh to the United States. Many banks are ‘for-profit’ entities. The repayment and default rates of their borrowers are regularly higher and lower, respectively, than traditional lending institutions. For more information on success stories in microfinance, check out the autobiography authored by Grameen Bank founder and 2006 Nobel Peace Prize winner Muhammad Yunus entitled ‘Banker to the Poor’. For all its strengths, microfinance has been criticized for a number of shortcomings, including its difficulty to function in disaster and disease-stricken areas, as well as cultural sensibilities that may arise in financially empowering women in communities wherein males typically dominate familial structures. At the very least, microfinance represents an important effort worthy of further study.

The organization is called FATEN and, like other non-profits across the world, offers an opportunity for working-class citizens to establish or expand their business practices. FATEN, in addition to its headquarters in Ramallah, has eleven branches spread across Gaza and the West Bank. The Second Intifada and persistent conflict among Palestinians and Israelis, particularly the recent flare-up of hostilities between Hamas and rival Fatah since the former group won political power in elections last year and further consolidated its mandate by seizing, militarily, complete control in Gaza, have hindered FATEN’s ability to serve Palestinians as effectively as it would like. Still, each year, it doles out millions in microloans, offering a number of different financial products to individuals, families, businesses, and non-profit and nongovernmental organization (NGO) employees. As in other parts of the world, microfinance does not represent a silver bullet in terms of providing impoverished populations a path to financial viability. Still, the services with which FATEN and other, similar entities across the world provide their borrowers offers an empowering brand of hope, as they seek to better their livelihood.

A trip to Israel and the Palestinian sits atop my travel list, and when Alicia mentioned that Anwar had invited her to visit him over spring break, my eyes nearly burst out of my head! I guess my friend could tell because, by that evening, she suggested that I consider coming along. Naturally and excitedly, I told her that I had hoped she would ask me that and immediately expressed a desire to come along. Since then, that is, over the course of the last week, several things have happened hinting that a remarkable journey awaits my friend and me next spring. First, a friend of my fellow Corps Member who she knows from her time with the Peace Corps has also decided to join us. She seems to be an extremely interest person and dedicated world traveler with whom this type of a trip would be even more enjoyable. Secondly, Anwar heartily and enthusiastically endorsed my coming along, saying that not only could we stay at his brother’s vacant flat during out stay, but that we also might have a chance to use a FATEN vehicle to tour sites in the Palestinian territories, as well as Jerusalem and the Dead Sea. Also, one of my friend’s other former classmates from her masters program, who works for the Israeli military and currently lives in Russia, agreed to come spend time with us during our visit. In sum, this is shaping up to be a trip of a lifetime. To the extent that the Arab-Israeli conflict represents one of the most significant standoffs in international affairs, this trip offers first-hand, unparalleled perspective into a great challenge of our time. I look forward to joining my friend on this unique journey and cannot wait to meet many new and intrepid people along the way. Mom, you eventually came around on Colombia, hopefully the same will hold true for the Middle East!

Cheers from Earl’s,

--Daniel

Week 3: Perspective in Understanding

2007-09-02T11:29:00.000-07:00

Classroom Highs and Lows:

When Kyle raises his hand and asks me if he can do an extra writing assignment for added credit, I get excited. When Ashley goes above and beyond the call of duty on a homework assignment to describe her thoughts on what life would be like if individuals in the U.S. had no freedom, opting instead to interview each member of her family to get their thoughts on the manner, I feel encouraged. When Xavier correctly informs me that Richard M. Nixon was the only U.S. President to have resigned, the political junkie (and, oh yeah, teacher) in me feels ecstatic. Even when Trisheena sinks her head to the desk in utter dismay that her having missed Thursday’s class will leave her significantly unprepared for Friday’s weekly quiz, I feel hopeful that she care enough about her performance in my class to become so affected.

Conversely, certain signs also serve as stinging reminders of the significant amount of work that lies ahead of students and me. Repeated, direct instructions often go unabsorbed by students, and some simply choose to focus on other things happening around them in class. Reviewing homework assignments and quiz questions that require students to write complete sentences regarding their opinion on matters, tasks for which I assertively tell the youngsters that there exist no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ answers, but simply providing an opinion will suffice, sometimes troubles me.

I’ve noticed a pattern among some of my students who face the most significant challenges in the classroom. Years of falling behind vis-à-vis both what is expected of them and their classmates leads them to devote the bulk of their energies toward diverting my attention away from their academic needs and status. The result of this is behavioral problems. In other words, students are acting out, I think, to move attention away from their academic difficulties.

There are many problems with this. First, when students do not believe in their abilities to learn, they become disenchanted with the learning process. So, we already have students substantially behind the curve and with whom there exists tremendous inertia standing between them and devoting greater effort toward their studies. I try to, and will continue to do so, show them that working hard in the classroom can be both fun and fruitful. For instance, while sitting with Oliver, a student of mine for whom the issues I’ve just describe ring most true, we get into a discussion about horses, which, unlike most other topics into which we’ve so far delved, he speaks readily, excitedly, and confidently. I hope and believe that this will translate into Oliver’s being more willing and excited to write about the topic than he would be writing about another matter. However, from what I have seen so far, students who struggle academically often feel embarrassed about their trouble, which leaves them largely deterred from the learning process on a more general level. Combating this harmful and perpetuating process will be one of my main and most important efforts as a teacher.

A second issue with students who experience substantial trouble in the classroom is that behavioral issues they raise to detract attention from their problems learning can influence similar behavior in other students. This detracts from the overall learning environment of the classroom. For instance, sitting Irwin, a student who has trouble paying attention and completing assignments well and on time, next to Ethan, a student typically engaged in, and excited about lessons, often leads the former to distract the latter. Mixing up seating patters is helpful, but I have found distressing continuity in the desire of students who feel added pressure to perform to draw others into their escapades in misbehavior. The onus is on me, as their teacher, to draw out the natural talent and desire to learn inherent in each child from Oliver, Irwin, and others. They often dazzle me with creativity and enlightened perspective on topics in which they are interested. The key for me is to show them the importance of exploring these ideas within the context of our curriculum and striving to improve critical academic tools.

Learning about Myself: Adventures in Austerity and Routine

It becomes clearer to me by the day that I am very much a creature of habit. I enjoy so much the process of establishing routine in my day-to-day life, often working to nail down activities to the minute I do them each day. What might seem boring to others is enthralling to me. I enjoy hearing the alarm sound at 4:30 each morning. I look forward so much to that first lap around the track at Fort Canyon Park at 4:45, as my legs awaken and heart begins to pound in the cool, early morning air. By lap 25, I will have more energy and alertness than an extra hour of slumber could ever provide. NPR brings the BBC over the radio waves and into my humble ’92 Mazda MPV during the short trip from house to park. There is something strangely exciting and calming about listening to the financial analysts discuss market activity in Asian markets (recently incredibly unstable due, primarily, to the crumpling of the U.S. sub-prime home lending market), wherein the day has already come and gone. I think about the evening when the day will have come and gone for me, too. I never fail to find humor in the poorness of my tie-tying abilities as I apply the finishing touches to my daily ensemble around 5:40. I cherish the first sip of coffee and delight in taking in the opening words from the Albuquerque Journal as the sun makes its first headway over the horizon, shining brilliant light through our broad glass windows and into our front dining room. The crunch-crunch of morning cereal makes me feel like a kid again, filling my belly before scurrying off to elementary school. College required a hiatus from such activity, and returning to it has the double advantage of calming me before beginning the day and returning my mind to an earlier, simpler time in life.

The drive to work provides a daily treat. I usually leave the house around or just after 6:30, when the sun is slowly creeping over the horizon. Gallup sunrises are, in a word, amazing. Devoid of trees to block vision, one can see for miles and miles in all directions and study in great detail the wondrous process of sunrise of which we all to easily fail to take note and appreciate. Driving due east, the sun unveils itself before me. I feel like a parishioner, kneeling before a heavenly entity in church: humble, peaceful, and entirely calm. I’m not sure how many folks experience a similar daily commute, but were they more able to do so, road rage would certainly lose much of its thunder.

After arriving at school just before seven, I head directly to the computer lounge, to print out materials for the day before crossing the hall to make copies. I greet colleagues as they, one by one, make their way into the school (usually, my only companion upon entering Church Rock is janitor Fred, who, along with his two colleagues, Bobby and Tony, work harder and, arguably, better, than anyone at our school). Before reporting to my room to begin the day at 7:25, I fill up my coffee cup with some fresh brew from the pot Tony reliably prepares at 7 each morning. Walking out to portable 21, I wonder to myself how and why I have obtained such a relevant and rewarding environment in which to groom myself as an adult. The answer is unknown, but the appreciation strong.

Hikes, Navajo Culture, and the Majesty of New Mexico:

Come to New Mexico. That is my message to anyone reading this bog entry. Many have tried to describe the certain intangible quality that makes the ‘Land of Enchantment’ indisputably, powerfully true to its name. There is something about the sunlight bouncing off the hills and canyon walls that calm the soul. As I hiked Church Rock with two good friends yesterday, studying how millions of years of a sinking water level eroded the rocks, creating powerful and beautiful color variations, I engaged in a discussion about our growing fascination with Navajo culture and, more generally, the history of the Gallup area. Anyone who has read Rudolfo Anita’s ‘Bless Me, Ultima’ knows about the unique mosaic that constitutes New Mexico’s cultural makeup, and this truth manifests itself powerfully in Gallup, wherein the demographic of the town comprises a significant Native American, Latino, Caucasian, and even Palestinian population. Through the years, Gallupians have learned to interact and live in a peaceful and understanding manner that is at once progressive and respectful of the past.

Even as I write this entry, I watch Nathaniel Jesus make the rounds at Earl’s restaurant, working to interest diners in his hand crafted jewelry and trinkets. Nathaniel’s surname evidences the cultural combination so common in this area. Though a full-blooded Navajo, Nathaniel’s relatives adhere to the Christian faith, resulting in their adoption of ‘Jesus’ to serve as the family’s last name. Native American with traces of Latino in his name, Nathaniel is decidedly patriotic, serving honorably for six years in the U.S. Marine Corps, like so many of his fellow Native Americans here in Gallup, and across the country. Many take interest in the substantial role played by Navajo Codetalkers in helping the U.S. to victory in World War II. What is lost sometimes, I think, is the fact that Native American participation in the U.S. military remains a key component of that institution’s continued vitality. Codetalkers deserve significant praise for their contribution to this country, but the service of Nathaniel and his counterparts is no less worthy of similar accolades.

In Closing, an Element of Concern:

Last year, only one school in the Gallup-McKinley County District achieve ‘adequate yearly progress’, No Child Left Behind’s infamous benchmark for sufficient institutional progress. Last Monday, I attended the district’s board of education working session to review and discuss schools’ standardized testing results, which largely determine AYP. Much to my, and other present teachers’ dismay, only one of the Board’s five members were present. Not only did this result in the wasting of dinners that the district used to taxpayer money to purchase to keep board members happy during this extra session, but, more importantly, the officials’ inconspicuous absence has broader deleterious effects for the state of students performance in the district, more generally. If Gallup McKinley County Schools’ chief policymakers are not even interested enough to make an appearance at a meeting designed to lay out the substantial shortcomings of students’ performance in our schools, then how can they be entrusted to spearhead efforts necessary to improve achievement? What message, moreover, does it send to our children and parents, when the individuals whose jobs our taxpayer money continues to fund cannot take it upon themselves to show up for a session of critical importance to the financial resources that the Federal Government will make available for our district.

No Child Left Behind is deeply flawed and there will undoubtedly be much discussion among board members regarding the abysmal performance of our schools in meeting its benchmarks. The bottom line, however, is that a school’s achieving or not achieving AYP plays a great role in determining the type and extent of funding it receives from lawmakers in Washington. With this in mind, it is a slap in the face to the dedicated educators and other personnel across GMCS that those charged with the most critical decisions to our district could not sacrifice one hour of their Monday evening to discuss our schools’ performance in achieve AYP. The future of school performance in GMCS depends largely on policy that board members set to affect positive change at a macro level. To affect said change, they must be present. My message, then, to missing board members is that our students deserve more, much more.

Hozho (Good Morning)

2007-08-26T16:37:00.000-07:00

(Saturday)

The burning morning sun oozes out fiery oranges and yellows as it peaks its head around an aged, faded brick will in this sleepy Northwest New Mexican town that quietly, but assuredly becomes my home. To the left, historic Coal Street emanates the quaint, small town charm of Gallup in each shop window. Stuck in time, this downtown area and the city itself draw visitors from across the world, who long for the city’s scenic beauty but also, I think, a life more simple, perhaps more innocent then their own. To my right, the McKinley County Courthouse adds a hint of modernity to an otherwise old-fashioned city center. In the evenings, Native American tribes from around the area descend upon the performance circle in front of the building and delight admiring onlookers with traditional dances and musical performances.

The juxtaposition of old Coal Street and the more grandiose, new-age courthouse provides an appropriate portrayal of life throughout New Mexico and many parts of the Southwest as regions creep reluctantly, yet desirously into the future, while striving to maintain a beautiful attachment to the past. Stepping into this push-pull provides newcomers with a fascinating invitation to a persistent cultural seesaw, a wrestling match of old and new that makes one question what one has to hold on to in her or his own life in terms of culture. It also makes one happy to be in a place that does have such a strong sense of the place from which it comes, even if it is not exactly certain of the place to which it hopes to go.

Yes, this Saturday morning, up with the sun, I reflect upon the many entreaties that make life and the world at once bastions of change and repetition. People grow, areas change, but similar, oft-tragic challenges continually face humanity and persist, all too often, unaddressed. Technological innovation surges forward without restrain, yet the world’s knowledge of, and commitment to making similar advances in enhancing equity does not follow suit. Areas such as Gallup, reach out for the niceties of a modern world but long to preserve a historic way of life. Others, ravaged by the effects of devastating poverty, do not have such a convenient position. For many places, the need for food, medicine, and survival make the choice between modern and historic less than meaningful.

Week two of teaching provided similar exhilaration to week one, but I feel it necessary to add another word to the adjective tree used to describe the job: real. This profession puts people directly into the lives of young people who have, ever since entering the classroom, faced substantial obstacles in advancing themselves academically. In fact, their families have faced similar obstacles for generations. The continual system of inequality that I have observed in this regard here in Gallup represents, I think, something of a modicum of similar injustices taking place across the world. I dare say that more people experience them than do not- in this sense, working to combat it is real indeed.

(Sunday)

Morning came early again today, Sunday. I watched the sun creep slowly over the horizon from the top of Pyramid Rock. The early morning dark turned to light, and I watched the earth come to life before me. Scenes like this characterize the Northwest corner of New Mexico, in lands cherished by inhabitants for millennia. Do I know how to properly value what I have seen or the deep, rich tradition of thanking and using the land that came before me? This is an important question, and the answer at present is probably no. For now, however, I am overjoyed, and strangely content, to have the opportunity to take part in sharing in the land’s beauty.

The morning cool and quiet of the landscape reminded me of previous mornings spent while on trips in Peru and Nicaragua. Thoughts crept into my mind this morning of the former, wherein an 8-point earthquake earlier this week wrought havoc on the land and lives of persons across the country, particularly the rural south. I thought as well of communities wherein land provides life. By life, I mean more than sustenance or things dealing with nutritional intake. I mean land providing a way of looking at the world, a way of existence, survival. In the Andean region, for example, papas, or potatoes represent more than just a staple. The land preparation and utilization entailed in growing and harvesting this beloved crop represents far more than habitual agricultural practice; it represents a way of life. For thousands of years, inhabitants have given thanks to, and performed ritualistic ceremonies for the cherished root. Indeed, the potatoes history in the Andean Region offers an endearing example of how, in places across the world, people and land often become one.

I thought, also, of my host family in Nicaragua, the Vidals, whose recent experience with a serious illness in the family, of which I knew little until very recently, ushered in a sense of melancholy and longing into my otherwise optimally content mind as I ascended Pyramid in the lightning morning expanse. When can and will I go back? I want to be with these people I love, show them how much I care for them, and thank them for all of the perspective and strength time spent with them now provides in my own life. There is no way to know, for sure, when I will return. For now, I suppose, I will just send my thanks and sincere recompense through the airways in hopes that the quiet, invisible connectivity binding every human being picks it up and plants it firmly in the minds of each member of the Vidal family.

Rudolfo Anaya is the literary pride and joy of New Mexico. His classic text, Bless Me, Ultima captures the intense battle currently waged between modernity and traditionalism in this, the country’s 5^th biggest, state. We look around, searching for things of value. We want these things to fill our hearts, provide us joy. Often, it is hard to see that in many ways satisfaction is a choice. Learning to love and value those things already in our lives can prove difficult. However, as I looked around me, perched happily atop Pyramid Rock, watching the rising sun emanate brilliant oranges, reds, pinks, and violets, life’s challenge of finding happiness in the natural could not have been simpler.

Cheers from Earl’s on Route 66 in Gallup, NM,

--DB

Week 1 of teaching: an 'exhilerating' experience!

2007-08-18T11:14:00.000-07:00

Well, week one has come and gone. While the rigors and demands of teaching at in my own classroom at Church Rock Academy in many ways resemble those I experienced while a summer school teacher at Browning Elementary in Houston during institute, my first week in NM definitely has its own flavor. There is something very comforting about knowing that, for better or worse (I know it is 'better'), my 75+ students and I are in it together for 180 days. I'd like to use today's entry to share a few observations I have after one week in the classroom.

Millions of people in the U.S. wonder what it will take to fix our country's educational system. Admittedly, I am very new to the profession of teaching, which renders my observations cursory and my prescriptions for reform anything but a silver bullet. What I want to share are some things that I found challenging and some things that I think would have helped my students and I perform better within the context of the classroom.

Reducing class size critical to differentiated learning

It is very difficult to lead 25+ students at one time. First and foremost, every single student I met this past week has the ability to achieve great things academically (EVERY ONE OF THEM). The argument that some kids just can't learn is hogwash (I'd use a harsher term but mom and pop read the blog, too). Still, the variation in terms of academic skill level in my classroom is both real and substantial. On one hand, I have a handful of students who excel, fly through the material we cover in a very short amount of time, and are ready for more instruction right away. On another hand, there are some students who, after a couple of repetitions and questions, understand things quite well and are ready to move on to more content. The bulk of my students, however, require quite a bit of time and attention for the overwhelming majority of material I introduce. This situation makes it extremely difficult for me to meet all of the needs of my students while, at the same time, keeping everyone engaged. With that being said, after one week on the job, I am a big proponent of reducing class sizes to allow for more individualized attention. I have tried to compensate for my top students' thirst for more, quicker instruction by assigning out of the class, extra credit assignments, but they need more personal attention within the context of the classroom to push their abilities to the test. Similarly, students who may currently be at a lower level also need individualized instruction. We have a special needs program at my school, which is great and will begin this coming Monday. However, I truly believe that these particular students are at a point so far behind where they need to be that nothing short of extremely personal, individualized lesson plans is required to bring them up to speed. These students, remember, ALL HAVE THE ABILITY to do great things in school. Unfortunately, many come from disadvantaged backgrounds that prevented them from staying on par early in their educational careers. If we truly believe in this country that every child deserves an equal opportunity to achieve educationally, then we must allow students who have fallen behind to be victims of insufficient and misguided resources. Smaller classrooms and more personalized attention for all studentws is a step in the right direction.

Longer school years needed

I hope none of my colleagues at Church Rock read this entry because they might kill me after reading this recommendation! The achievement gap in our country's educational system is so substantial that those on the bottom end of performance simply cannot receive a sufficient amount of instruction within the confines of a typical school year. In New Mexico, students go to school for 180 days. A friend and mentor suggested to me this morning that this number should be lifted to 210, at least. I'm all for it. For many of those at the bottom end of the achievement gap, not only would this increase critical time in the classroom, but it would also provide low-income students, who constitute the majority of 'under-performing' learners, with a safe environment and, through discounted and free breakfast and lunch programs, guaranteed meals (though we've got a long way to go in ensuring our students have healthy options while at school) and a more secure environment in which to exist for more of the year. To parents working two and three jobs, moreover, longer school years would also serve a vital role, allowing them to avoid paying costly daycare bills while working to support their family. Longer school years represent an important component to any viable educational reform policy.

Increased funding for Pre-K, arts, and afterschool programs

Children need to start learning earlier, and they need to be given an opportunity to excell in things outside the classroom. One of the things I believe limits most of my struggling students' skills is that they did not enter into a serious academic environment early enough. The odds of achieving academic greatness are stacked heavily against those born into situations of economic disadvantage. To give these students an equal shot at meeting their academic potential, which, again, is limitless, instruction simply cannot begin early enough. At Church Rock, we have a phenomenal 3-year-old and 4-year-old Pre-K program headed by loving and committed instructors. There is no doubt in my mind that theyoungsters who pass through these classrooms are better for it, and the time they spend in this program will pay dividends in terms of their educational performance down the road. However, across the country, limited funding constrains the ability of schools and school districts to have these types of programs, which means that those students most in need of early, extra instruction are being denied a critical opportunity to achieve. Policymakers should address this reality and divert more funds to Pre-k programs in low-income areas.

Arts and afterschool programs can provide under-performing students with incredibly empowering tools. If one's experience at school consists only of discouraging grades and lectures they do not comprehend, who could blame them for not being invested in their own education. Arts and afterschool programs, however, represent an opportunity for struggling students to have a positive experience at school. Perhaps a students struggles in math and is several years behind in reading but can sing like the dickens. If her school has a strong music program that hones this talent, for example, she or he might come to view the process of going to school in a more favorable light. Once this occurs, the fear and intimidation one takes to the classroom with them every day start to erase. We need to find ways to empower our young people, and this is done by helping them recognize their talents. If this process of recognition is done at school, whether through arts or afterschool programs, then students will look to it as a place where they can succeed. I believe that this new-found comfort will improve their performance in the classroom. More funds for arts and after-school programs also constitute a key component of educational reform.

Teachers not necessarily to blame

I believe that teachers are accountable for the performance of their students. This premise leads, logically, to the conclusion that students struggle because of sub-optimal performance by teachers. However, during my time so far at Church Rock, I have yet to experience an educator who I did not feel was totally committed to improving her students' academic performance. I'm at school with educators who've been at it for 30+ years and are ready for thirty more! These people are not in it for the money. These people are not in it because they've nowhere else to go. These are committed public servants dedicated to improving the lives of their young people. While it is easy for many folks to cast the blame for our country's struggling educational system on teachers (and surely there are some teachers who do not do a good job and are not truly invested in their students' lives), I posit that the majority of these individuals do not understand what it is like to live and exist in a low-income area where myriad factors lead to underperformance in the classroom. It is extremely difficult to teach a student who has not had enough to eat and is distracted by hunger in the classroom? It is extremely difficult to teach a student who has no bed on which to sleep at night (and must get up at 4 in the morning so there parents can take them to work and, later, drop them at school). It is extremely difficult to teach a student who has no support from parental figures in the home and does not feel valued. As teachers, we are leaders, and we need to be many things to many teachers, which is one of the main reasons that I got into this profession. However, to simply argue that teachers are to blame for failing students and schools ignores a larger societal issue that is rooted in economic inequity. By all means, hold teachers accountable, but do so while keeping in the mind the unique challenges they face when teaching in low-income communities.

O.K., so there is it. One week on the job, and I'm loaded with thought and steam. I love my job in a perverse and altogether strange sort of way. I love the 'hard'. I love the highs and, yes, the lows. There will be plenty more of each. For now, after an 'exhilerating' week on the job, I am excited about week two. I have much to teach my students, and they have much to teach me. The most important thing is that we are in this together, and together we WILL progress.

Cheers from Albuquerque,

--Daniel

Day One: Reflections

2007-08-13T16:19:00.000-07:00

Day one is in the books! It was, first and foremost, a great day. It was great in the sense that for three months, which has seemed more like three years, I've been training to become a teacher in the State of New Mexico. Today, finally, I began this process, and oh was it sweet.

I have three groups of kids every day. One of them is my so-called 'home room' class with whom I spend more time than the others. I started with these students in the morning. From 7:20-8:00 students eat breakfast, which is delivered to the room. My daily agenda began here and went as follows:
1. Hello, and welcome to class!
2. Who am I?
3. Who are you?
4. 'Classroom Code' (rules)
5. Leadership jobs (assigning responsibilities to students- line leader, etc.)
6. Where in the world is....? (a game in which students divide into teams, send a representative to the board and are asked to find a specific country- fun fun!)
7. Writing Activity #1 (I had students write about a fun trip they had been on, or one on which they hoped to go- I prefaced this by discussing my trip to Peru and Machu Picchu last summer)

I enjoyed discussing from where I was coming to the kids. I told them that I grew up in Las Cruces, but was born in California and that my family lived in Michigan. I told them that I recently graduated from college in Washington, D.C. and played tennis there. Throughout the discussion, I kept two tennis balls close at hand, often juggling them in one hand to spur interest (worked like a charm). I spoke of studying international relations in school, explaining it by using a globe and pointing to countries from around the world and also mentioning my love of travel.

I told students about one of the most important parts of my life- my family. I told them about my mom and dad, their jobs, background and (sorry mom and pop!) their ages. I also told them about my brother Patrick, reflecting on how interesting it is for me to think that this 'little guy' is now 13 and on his way to high school (actually, he began tryouts for his high school tennis team today!)!

After telling them about myself, I told them why I want to be a teacher. I told them that I had always great teachers and this had given me a wonderful life and strong love for learning. I told them that I wanted to provide them with the same. I also told them in no uncertain terms that I believe in their ability to learn anything they want if they follow the 'Classroom Code'.

The Classroom Code is a set of rules, though I tried to use that particular term as little as possible. The code itself is written on large posterboard in my classroom, divided into two sections: "Student will..." and "Students will not...". Section one is followed by the following 'rules':
1. Students will always do their very best.
2. Students will believe they can achieve anything.
3. Students will contribute to class learning by participating.
4. Students will be kind to themselves and others.
5. Students will be kind to their teacher.

I had left #5 blank in order to let students come up with one of the guidelines themselves to help promote buy-in. Imagine my delight when this is the rule they chose! How cool are these kids?

The second section contains the following:
1. Students will not talk without raising their hand.
2. Students will not leave their seat without permission.
3. Students will not interfere with their classmates' learning.
4. Students will not disrespect or be mean to their classmates
5. Students will not talk back to the teacher (also class-created- amazing!).

So, after having student copy down the code to take home to their parents for signatures, I moved into 'Rewards' and 'Consequences' for following and breaking the code.

Rewards:
1. Verbal congratulations
2. Add to class points (if the class reaches a certain amount, we have a celebration and prize)
3. GAME TIME! Students create a fun, educational game to play and do this in place of a lesson (clearly, the idea is that the game would be a lesson in and of itself)
4. Field trip at the end of the year (to an awesome amusement park called Uncle Cliffs in Albuquerque- the achievement of this reward is directly correlated to meeting our class' 'Big Goal', which is still in the works.

Consequences:
1. Warning
2. Take away class points
3. Written letter home to parent/guardian explaining misbehavior
4. Visit to Principal Schuster's office (unfortunately, these kids love Mr. Schuster- still, he knows how to discipline, and this will serve, I hope, as an effective deterrent.

We then assigned classroom responsibilities. Everyone, in time, will have a job. For now, roughly 1/3, 1/4 does, and they consist of tasks that truly will help me out: paper collectors and passer outers; line leader; pencil sharpeners (this is a real issue; students constantly want to get up and sharpen pencils; these students' jobs will be collecting pencils at the beginning of class from anyone who needs it and sharpening them so we do not have to stop during the lesson.

From here, two of my classes moved into the writing activity directly, whereas my home room class also played 'Where in the world is...?'. I was very impressed with the ideas expressed by students when writing about where they had been and would like to go. It takes some effort getting them writing, but once it starts, ideas flow quite well amongst my students. Still, the grammar, spelling, and syntax is, we'll say, a LONG way off. We've much work to do. I knew this coming in and am stoked to attack these lacking skills and help students become great writers.

With one of my courses, we actually moved write into a lesson. I gave them three vocab. words before lunch and was prepared to head out when a few said excitedly that they wanted one more word, "a hard one!". We went with civilization and cruised to the cafeteria. I love this enthusiasm and am searching for an extremely challenging word for them to take on tomorrow!

After one day on the job, I can say this: I made the right choice. Was it a perfect day? No. Will any day be perfect? Probably not? Might I leave school questioning what I got myself into- also, probably not! I know, in my heart, that my pseduo-organized classroom, my pseudo-organized (yet improving) lesson plans are not what's going to make the difference in unlocking these students' academic potential. What is going to do this is an unwavering love, drive, and commitment to their progress as students and human beings. They must know I care. They WILL know I care. I will stop at nothing to make these kids believe in themselves, nor will I stop at anything to bring them the resources they need to overcome the disadvantages into which low-income brings them.

I'm a teacher now. I know that my classrooms and others like it around the country are the trenches in which the future of our country is going to be one or lost. If we success in bringing low-income and otherwise disadvantaged students up to, and beyond par in terms of academic performance, our country will experience a new era of equity, and our world a new day of progress. Day one has come and gone. I can't wait for tomorrow.

P.S. I arrived in Gallup at 2:05 yesterday morning after an incredible, and incredibly beneficial weekend with fellow Front-Line Leaders Academy in Washington, D.C. Our training was held at the National Education Association headquarters, which, of course, seemed particularly fitting. I have a better idea, coming out of the conference, of the place in which I hope to start my service and the steps I need to take to put myself in a place to win a race. It was a great weekend, and even when I was sitting at The Frontier restaurant in Albuquerque, New Mexico at 11:55 p.m. Sunday night, seven and one-half hours before the dawn of my teaching career, I knew that everything would be just fine.

Travel Irregularities: Charming Quirks at the Outset of My Weekend Journey to Washington

2007-08-10T08:09:00.000-07:00

Everything was going perfectly according to plan as I hit the acclerator and started out on I-40 headed east from Gallup toward Albuquerque. This trips is becoming something of a routine for me, and I grow more enamored with the beauty of the landscape on this 130 mile trip each time I pass through. Yesterday morning's environs were nothing short of magnificent as a rainbow, surely the largest I've ever seen, stretch in a perfect arch across the horizon. Heavy rain made the trip difficult at times, but I always enjoy the scent and scenes of a desert rain.

Moreover, political talk radio, specifically that found on 770 AM KKOB, made the trip an intellectual delight as caller mulled recent comments from former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich regarding the sorry state of presidential debates, in which candidates typically offer focus-group tested and largely meaningless answers to critical policy questions....anyway, it was an enjoyable drive down to Duke City.

The fun continued at 'The Fying Star', an awesome and awesomely hip coffee shop and restaurant on Central Avenue within a hop, skip, and a jump from the University of New Mexico's Campus. I've become something of a regular at the Flying Star, visiting it the last two times I've passed through Albuquerque. The exciting atmosphere of a young college crowd couples with an older crop of intellectual patrons who take in the joint's rich magazine collection, infnite coffee supply, tasty food, and free wireless makes stoppin in a real treat.

After a great dinner and reading my daily share of online news and other writings, as well as checking e-mail, I left the Flying Star around 11 p.m. and set out for Albuquerque's 'Sunport' to catch my 12:55 a.m. flight for Atlanta. This is where the fun begins!!! Upon reaching the terminal, I learned that my flight had been canceled and that I had been reticketed for a flight the following morning (i.e., today), at 6:05 to Salt Lake City. This new plan put me in D.C. Reagan around 4. No problem, I thought, though very much disappointed that I would not be able to join my friends and fellow Fellows in the Front-Line Leaders Academy for our community service project at a large homeless shelter in D.C. at 11. Even better, the Delta rep. with whom I spoke, Chaz (an extremely nice and helpful individual), informed me that Delta would put me up in a hotel and send a shuttle to pick me up. Fine. I'd get some much-needed rest, albeit not too much, be up around four and make it out to D.C. by mid-afternoon on Friday in time for part of the afternoon's activities. After missing the first Courtyard shuttle to pass through (due, I must admit, to having my head buried in a book I'm trying to finish this weekend, 'The Four Agreements'), I caught the next one, checked in, and was in my room and in bed (just a bit more comfy than the floor on which I've slept for the last two weeks in Gallup but without the character!) just before one. Now, in the lobby, the Courtyard rep., also an extremely nice person, who was plugging away furiously to get 'distressed travelers' from the canceled 12:55 Delta Flight squared away with their rooms, assured me that my 4:00 a.m. wake-up call would be made. Imagine my surprise, then, when I opened my eyes, glanced at the clock, and saw that it was 5:49!!! "Darn!", I said, when asked by the shuttle driver who took me to the airport about eleven minutes later what my first thought was upon seeing that I had overslept. O.K., o.k., the exact term might have been a bit different, but let's not bog ourselves down in technicalities (by the way, the shuttle driver was an interesting young man who is actually from Gallup, but currently studying in Albuquerque. On the way to the airport, we spoke of this weekend's 86th Annual Inter-Tribal Ceremonial taking place in Gallup and lamented that, probably, neither of us would be able to partake in the activities- next year, we said, next year!).

So, I got to the airport, checked in for my flight (for which I am currently waiting- 11:15 to Atlanta; you may wonder why I, given the extra time, decided to come to the airport so early? Good question, but the answer is that, with all the craziness of the night before, I figured it best to just get to the airport and my gate as quickly as possible so as to alleviate any doubt that my scheduled arrival time in D.C., now set for 6:59 p.m., would indeed prove accurate), and made my way over to sit down, drink some coffee, and read the Wall Street Journal I picked up free of charge at the Courtyard (I guess a free paper settles the score for forgetting to make the wake-up call; square deal in my book!).

However, upon passing through security, I hit a snag. I placed my beautiful Tweety Bird keychain, which holds the metal passages to Sophie (my delightful red minivan) as well as my house, into a plastic bin to pass it through the x-ray machine. In brutal consistence with the strange occurences of the previous ten hours, the Tweety Bird keychain that arrived on the other side of the machine was devoid of all keys. What?! I asked a security guard if, perhaps, she knew what had happened, to which she responded with a question. "Did your other items in the bin make it through?" she asked. "Yes," I replied. She asked another guard to rummage through the x-ray machines internal organs, which he did, and, after a half-minute or so and a barrage of questions that raced through my mind regarding how the hell I was going to get home to Gallup Sunday evening and drive to the first day of school on Monday, my keys popped up! Just another quirk on the journey, I figured and moved happily along to sit down with some coffee and my paper, which, by now, was looking incredibly attractive.

About halway through the first article, an interesting piece on recent global market volatility in response to fallout in the U.S. subprime lending market, I glanced up briefly and saw a familiar face sitting at a table diagnoal from me. A young woman named Pree, with whom, I went to high school was sitting there along with two others, Emily and Ellie, who I also new from my time at Las Cruces High School. "Pree," I said, still not quite convinced that I was actually awake. She looked up and, after a few moments, let out a "Daniel", which put to rest my persistent doubts about consciousness (or lack thereof). After exchanging surprised and happy greetings, as well as chatting about the craziness of seeing each other after so long, at this time, and in this place, we had a nice chat, and they explained to me they were on their way to see a friend's graduation in Austin. I told them I was on my way, although quite slowly, to Washington for a conference. Life seems to have a funny way bringing friends together. It is comforting to know that, wherever one wonders, one cannot outrun her or his true friends. Time and life always bring you back together. As I hop around the country and long to see friends and loved ones again, this becomes an extremely calming thought.

So, it is now 9:44 a.m. Mountain Standard Time. The charging station in the B Terminal of the Albuquerque Sunport makes a happy home for a sleepy, slightly delirious travel, anxious and excited to get to his next destination. With the interesting and, in retrospect, not all that serious obstacles of the last twelve hours behind me, I'm stoked to see what this weekend has in store. I'm excited, moreover, to reunite with the other FLLA Fellows, college chums and other good friends, and, hopefully, my dear Gaga. As we move crazily through planet Earth, it helps to keep in mind that things often do not go according to plan, but in these strange diversions from the charted path, we often discover new treasures that leave our experience better than we could have planned.

Cheers from Albuquerque,

--D.B.

Incomplete thoughts as I approach day one (hey, it's something!)

2007-08-08T18:55:00.000-07:00

The big day has almost arrived, and with it, a sense of anticipation that could drive the calmest person insane. However, effective instruction seems to require sanity, though some may tell you differently, and so I’ll need every effort to gather my wits by next Monday. I’m thoroughly excited by my colleagues, who’ve been extremely welcoming and giving of their time and resources; my curriculum, which consists of New Mexico and U.S. history, as well as writing (which is a welcome exchange for the science I thought I was going to teach); and my new home and TFA family. Also, Sophie, the ’92 Mazda MPV minivan that sits proudly and charmingly outside the dining room window at 1705 Red Rock provides smooth, steady rides around the booming metropolis that is Gallup.

This weekend, I travel to Washington, D.C. to participate in the second of four conferences for the leadership program in which I am a fellow, the Front-Line Leaders Academy of the People for the American Way’s Young People For Network. I fly out early Friday morning, will participate in a community service project at one of the country’s largest homeless shelters in the late morning and early afternoon, attend a discussion session at 3, go for a nice, group dinner at 7, and spend time with friends from the college and around the area afterwards. I tell you all this to indicate that, basically, at times, my life feels like one giant conglomeration of action for which I am every grateful. I know I could, and would not want to live any other way.

Next week promises thrills. In addition to meeting my students and beginning the school year, I will take a trip down to Zuni, New Mexico (roughly an hour outside of Gallup), to meet an ’04 TFA Corps Member and discuss a program she initiated at her school to grow an edible garden. Students create and tend to the garden, which provides them with healthy meals, lessons in agriculture, and even a significant bit of money as the surplus is sold in local markets. I hope to replicate the success of this program at my school, as do some of my ’07 CM colleagues. It should be a good, enriching time down in Zuni.

Also, I spoke with a man today whose brother was a Navajo Codetalker. Navajo Codetalkers played a critical role in helping the U.S. win World War II by communicating messages for the U.S. military in their native language, which was indecipherable for Japanese codebreakers. The codebreakers had, up to the point that the Navajo Codetalkers began their work, broken codes of the Army, Navy, and Marines, but they couldn’t beat the Native American entourage, whose dedicated serviced proved critical in leading the U.S. to victory at the important battles of Iwo Jima and Okinawa, among others. In any event, the man with whom I spoke was a co-consultant for Navajo Nation for the movie “Windtalkers”, sharing his knowledge with the film’s producers and director. He agreed to come in and give a presentation to my class when we reach World War II in our social studies curriculum. He might even bring along his brother, who has, unfortunately, medical issues that typically prevent him from giving testimonials regarding his experience during the war.

Rock, chalk, Jayhawk- good morning from Albuequerque!

2007-07-28T06:18:00.000-07:00

I made it! Or, at least blistery-eyed, slightly delirious version of me sauntered to the finish line here in New Mexico. Admittedly, this is but a temporary stopping place (i.e. Albuquerque), but a: I needed a little chill time after, seriously, twenty-plus hours of driving and b: I was straight-up falling asleep. So, I dedided to pull into Albuquerque for a little 'me' time, reaching the Duke City around 5:15 a.m. Saturday morning. From there, I made my way to the coolest, in my opinion at least, part of town- Center St., near the University of New Mexico's main campus. I'm here now at a cool little coffee store right off Central called 'Flying Star', which has been in the neighborhood for twenty years. I was the first to enter when they opened up around six, and the 'warm, organic oatmeal' warmed my road-weary soul.

My parents will probably kill me for making this whole jaunt in one day, but I feel proud. Proud that I survived. Proud that I am almost in my new home, ready to start a new life. Most of all, I'm proud that this transition to adulthood (which seems to have been borne out in a possibly-overdramatic, yet strangely-fitting manner in the form of my cross-country journey on the wings of my Sofi) and the realization I have of the person I have to become. There will be hard times- always. But I wouldn't have it any other way. 'The hard' translates into 'the good', to those things in life which I worth fighting for. In this sense, I hope everyday is hard, provides a new challenge, and tests me in ways I never thoughts possible. August 13th is the first day of school. Much stands before me as I prepare to greet students for that opening session (for which I practiced heartily on the way to NM!), but I know that when we do meet, at first strangers, ultimately partners, all of the challenges and 'hard' experiences that have brought me to this point will allow to greet each youngster with a sense of confidence and hope that we will grow together in extraordinary ways during the schoolyear.

Cheers from Albuquerque,

--Daniel

Load, Stowed, and Open Road: Tales of a Cross-country Adventure from North to South

2007-07-27T13:17:00.000-07:00

Well, after about nine hours and a few too many ounces of coffee later, I find myself somewhere in Central Missouri, headed strong toward the Oklahoma border. I spent the first few morning hours with National Public Radio, enjoying a steady stream of repeated, slightly tweaked news reports that brought events from around the world to my humble ’92 Mazda MPV.

As for Sofi (my road warrior’s new name), she’s runnin’ strong! We’ve gone through two-and-a-half tanks of gas, and nearly five hundred miles. I’ve enjoyed so much this opportunity to get out on the open road and just…reflect. There’s something indescribably comforting in having nothing before you but the sky, beautiful and oft-changing scenery (I swear I saw what must have been ½ of the world’s corn supply driving through Central Illinois), and being able to listen to hours upon hours of radio (whether it be NPR (great ‘Fresh Air’ special on Isaac Hayes), AM talk-radio (enjoyed tuning in to the ridiculousness that is Rush Limbaugh), and, yes, the occasional country music ballad (what?! It’s addictive!).

Yes, I’m thoroughly enjoying this quest through Middle America. I think with each passing mile, I get a little more excited to begin my new life in Gallup. Even better is the fact that I won’t be alone. I will be with nearly fifty other passionate, excited young TFA corps members ready to get in the classroom and make a difference. This time of reflection has helped me come up with a number of ideas about what I’d like to do at my house, in the yard, and activities I’d like to take on in the Gallup community.

It’s 3:10 Central Time, and there’s a whole lot of road between me and Northern New Mexico. I’m looking forward to catching NPR’s evening session and then tuning in to some Friday night baseball on the AM Dial (will Barry get to 754, maybe even 755, tonight? We’ll see!). Most importantly, though, I’m looking forward to continuing this thought exploration. I’m thinking of old friends, current friends, and friends to come. The hours will pass and the sun will die down; there’s no telling how far I’ll go. The one thing that’s for sure, however, is that passing through the heart of this great country serves of a powerful reminder of all that we could and should be. I look forward to spending my future working to create that America we all know is possible.

Have a great weekend. I’ll be thinking about you on the road!

--Daniel

P.S. You know, gas station cappuccino isn’t all that bad.

Funding Children's Health Care: A Moral Imperative

2007-07-26T12:00:00.000-07:00

Political debate within this country often shrouds seemingly straightforward issues in veils of complexity. Nowhere is this more important than in the ongoing debate regarding health care reform. Today, nearly fifty million Americans live without health insurance, which seriously impairs their ability to have access to necessary medical care. Of these 50 million, roughly 12% are children.

It is nothing short of a grave injustice that, in the wealthiest country in the world, so many of our children live without access to quality, basic health care. It seems quixotic that, while lawmakers have no problem spending hundreds of billions of dollars to fund a failing war in Iraq, they cannot have turned a blind eye to the greater tragedy right here at home. Political candidates and policymakers offer plenty of rhetoric about how youth are the key to creating a better future for our country. But how can we expect such big things from our young ones if we are not willing to provide them a fundamental tool for becoming healthy, active members of society?

It has come time for top policymakers to start putting their money where there mouths are and make some real decisions about health care reform in the U.S. The money is there to ensure that not a single American goes without this vital service. However, even if this proves too great a stretch, surely leaders can bring themselves to see that providing solutions for children’s medical needs is not an issue of policy, but rather a moral imperative and an issue of basic human rights. Creating a better tomorrow starts with fully-funding children’s health care today. The time for talk is over. The time for action is now.