Author: Sharron Burnett

My mother often urged me to “watch and learn.” I suppose that hearing this command turned me into an inveterate observer. I tend to be the quiet person who scans a room looking for insights into the human experience. I became so good at watching and concurrently learning that my mama eventually had to chide me for staring too long at people and making them feel uncomfortable. Looking at the world around me is a habit that follows me wherever I go. 

I recently attended a lovely baby shower and brunch for a former student and because I did not really know anyone there I found myself lapsing into my habit of taking in the room and just looking at the interactions of the women there. It was a lively group made up mostly of relatives who seemed to be quite excited about being together in such a lovely setting. I overheard conversations that convinced me that many of the guests were fellow educators like myself. They were discussing the difficulties of the last few years and many were considering alternative vocations given the high level of anxiety that seems to be so much a part of teaching these days. The autonomy and creativity of each classroom has all too often been replaced with scripts and canned programs that feel uncomfortable to veterans who have always adapted to the needs of individuals students rather than relying on a single plan. 

I chose not to interact with the many conversations because it was more interesting to simply listen like a fly on the wall. Only now and again did someone move near me to find out who I was and why I was there. In most cases they wanted to know how retired life was going for me and whether I thought that they might enjoy such a state as well. I surprised them by announcing that my days of freedom had been brief because I very soon found myself bored by a lack of real meaning in my days. I took on part time teaching and tutoring gigs because being with students seems to be necessary for my well being. I am revitalized by the teaching experience and luckily now I am totally my own master in designing the coursework for those with whom I work. My lessons are individualized to the micro level. 

Not all of the conversations were about education although that topic dominated. There were reunions of people who had not seen each other for a time and sharing of memories from days past when they were younger. The group was a mixture of generations from the grande dame grandmother to the toddlers playing impishly with one another while their mothers were distracted. Most of the people were descended from recent Spanish speaking immigrants so the conversations flowed easily from one language to another. The younger members tended to be highly educated and living the American dream in terms of lifestyle. Both their English and their Spanish was impeccable, with not a scintilla of an accent. Their ability to flow easily from one language to another had made them exceptionally gifted employees with a skill that few long time Americans possess. 

I thought of how quickly the sons and daughters of immigrants adjust to being citizens of the United States. In only a few years most of them had become indistinguishable from every other American. Each of them provides the workforce with skills and understanding of people that are incredibly valuable to our nation. Their parents or grandparents came here wanting better lives, sacrificing to help their children find success, and the results have been stunning. I wondered how many who scream that immigrants are our biggest problem have any kind of knowledge about how much they provide to the enhancement of our country. 

Just as my grandparents came to the United States barely able to speak English and only educated enough to provide intensely labor bound work, many of the people at that shower had come to being from the sweat and hard work of elders who had a dream for their families. Within a single generation the children of such enterprising people become an integral part of the bedrock upon which this nation depends. My mother and her siblings were model citizens in every sense of the word. Their children rose to the middle class quickly and their grandchildren have become even more successful. Nobody would even guess that in the beginning my grandparents were derided and mistreated simply because their accents were foreign and their appearance was judged as lowly and lacking. 

I enjoyed that shower so much because it spoke so loudly about the beauty and possibility that comes from bringing people from all over the world to our shores. I saw the immigrant story in all of its glory and remembered that I too came from such a legacy. Instead of complaining about people who want to join us, we should be celebrating their arrival and welcoming them to the good fortune that we enjoy only because someone in our ancestral line had the courage to begin a new life in a country with boundless opportunities. This is who we are and what it means to be an American. Isn’t that beautiful!

In a speech at the White House near the end of the twentieth century Elie Wiesel spoke of the perils of indifference, ignoring or not caring about the suffering of others. We don’t have to wear sackcloth or donate all of our money to charitable causes, but we must be aware of injustice and need in the world around us. We must work to erase the horrors of the present even if it means sacrificing some of our luxuries. The wrong approach would be to insist that sufferings happening far away from our neighborhoods or our nation have nothing to do with us. If we are indeed to be compassionate and loving Christians or Jews or Muslims or agnostics we must be willing to speak out whenever and wherever we see humans being persecuted or ignored. It is up to each of us to actively work to stamp out ignorance and hate and brutality. Averting our glances or proclaiming that it is none of our concern is the prelude to assassinations and wars and genocides. 

Every person on this earth is worthy of enjoying a good life of freedom, security and respect. Sadly far too many souls are victims of circumstances over which they have little control. When they come to us pleading for understanding and help we must not allow indifference to their plights cause us to ignore or even persecute them. 

We often refuse to ask the right questions when massive numbers of people are risking their very lives to cross over our borders. Instead of seeing them as problems that must be eradicated we need to ask why they are here. We need to know what they are attempting to escape, what they hope to find. We must treat them as the beautiful individuals they are. We would do well to show them respect and kindness. But for our own good fortune we might be one of them, dreaming of a decent life for ourselves and for our families. When our only thought is to deport them or treat them like criminals without ever knowing them, we are practicing the most vile form of indifference.

When we condemn the students who are attempting to make us aware of the destruction of life in Gaza we might be inclined to see them as trouble makers, rabble rousers who are behaving like spoiled children. Our indifference to what they have to say clouds the real issue which is that they want justice for the innocent, not for Hamas or evil doers. They want the displaced children and families of Gaza to be safe. Their intentions are admirable, not anti-semitic. They only criticize the extreme violence being inflicted on people who had nothing to do with the October attack on Israel. The majority of them advocate for peace and fairness. They are not indifferent to the nuances of the conflict, but many times those of us who criticize them are in fact indifferent to their good intentions. 

When we hurl our religious invective at people that we consider to be perverse we are acting exactly the opposite to true Christian beliefs. We become hardened and indifferent to Jesus’ message to love each other. Our judgmental attitudes keep us from seeing those whose lifestyles are not the same as ours as human beings worthy of love and compassion. Our indifference to the the taunting and suffering that they continue to endure in the name of all that is holy is in stark contrast to how Jesus urged us to be. He did not hang out with the wealthy or even the most religious men of his time. He spurned sacred rules that hurt people. He embraced those who were shunned by society over and over again. Surely as we read about his life it should be obvious that he was never indifferent to the most vulnerable outcasts. In fact, he died because of his audacious behavior that pointed to the hypocrisy of religious men who hid behind the rules of indifference. 

I firmly believe that most people are good. They want what is best for all people. Sometimes they just feel overwhelmed by the many events that are wreaking havoc in the world today. Sometimes they simply believe that they must first begin with themselves and their families. After all it would be incredibly daunting to be responsible for the entire world. Not even the great President Franklin Roosevelt thought that he should interfere with the way things were by welcoming the Jewish refugees who sought relief in the United States when they sailed here on the St. Louis. He watched as they were sent back, perhaps hoping that they would ultimately be okay. Instead many of them eventually perished in concentration camps. 

We might have thought that being part of the Civil Rights movement of the twentieth century was really none of our business but our indifference to segregation and prejudice toward our Black brothers and sisters forced leaders like Martin Luther King Jr and others to show us the faces of fellow citizens who had yet to be freed from the prejudices of slavery. Those marchers made the people who were still waiting to be released from the chains of racism visible and real to us. It was imperative that we be roused from accepting things the way they had always been. 

Indifference is the enemy of justice and compassion. There are times when we must not look away no matter how uncomfortable it may be to seek the truth. We cannot suggest that because something does not directly affect us that we should not worry about it. We must always be open to learning about the problems of people the world over. We should be willing to listen to them without preconceived notions and we must act when we have the opportunity to help them. Most among us already do such things. Others are unsure or maybe even a bit afraid to take on the problems of people they do not know. We can start by being open and loving and caring about making a difference. 

Ukrainian children went back to school this week. A little girl talked about learning in a hybrid program that will include in person teaching sometime and remote teaching most of the time. She spoke of having a bomb shelter to go to either way if attacks happen where she is on any given day. 

Try to imagine that! We certainly had duck and cover drills for bombs when I was in school. They were few and of course only practice. We often laughed and scoffed at the possibility that our training might one day become necessary. It’s good that it never became real because we had no bomb shelters, only our desks or maybe our own arms covering our heads afforded any kind of protection. The one time I ever felt a real need for such exercises was in an October of long ago during the Cuban Missile Crisis. A good number of my fellow students did not even show up for class in that scary moment. My teacher advised those of us who walked to school to get down in a low depression in the sidewalk or street and then cover our heads just as we had practiced. I remember snickering inside silently because there were no ditches or dips in the landscape anywhere along my route home. 

We have been unbelievably fortunate here in the United States. Aside from the American Revolution, the French and Indian War, the Civil War, or terrorist and shooter attacks we have lived in relative peace. I suppose some groups like our Black citizens might prefer to differ that life has been mostly serene. I understand how they continue to worry about racist attacks on them and how they have little recourse to protect themselves.  

I have never really thought much about the possibility of either traditional or guerrilla warfare taking place in our country. Still, even without actual experience I can see from photos and videos how horrifically war impacts even innocent people. I am riven in two by the war that continues in Israel and Gaza. Both countries are suffering with no end in sight in spite of countless efforts to broker a ceasefire or, even better, an end of the wars. 

I think of the children impacted by war. I grieve over the innocence of childhood that they have lost. I cry at the thought of little ones being frightened and on edge all of the time. They should not have to adapt to horrors so unfairly foisted on them. The want, the injuries, the disease that follows from humans warring with each other changes them forever. When no place is safe they lose a sense of security and trust. Their development is interrupted. They become little more than pawns being moved about by powerful men who can’t find a way to get along with their enemies. Everything that they know is being destroyed.

The little girl in Ukraine demonstrates how children adapt when their lives are not longer novel, but why should she have to pay for the sins of tyrants? Why should a little one in Gaza have live for almost a year now in a state of uncertainty, disease, hunger, violence and destruction. Why should Israeli children live in the fear that no place is safe anymore? What is in our human DNA that all too often brings out warmongering? What in the name of God could possibly make it right to be an aggressor, to kill people who have somehow become enemies?

I cry that children anywhere in the world are ever subjected to our worst and evil traits! I understand death and how it affects the young. Losing my father in a time of peace changed me forever, made me feel less secure, more anxious. Once we humans experience death and destruction for any reason we change. A bit of our psyches are battered and bruised as surely as though an abuser is beating us for what feels like no good reason. 

I can feel the pain of war unlike the way I laughed at the very idea that we really needed drills for attacks by enemies who did not even know us. The fighting makes me feel emotions that are horrific. I want to scream or cry or protest wars. I want the killing to stop. We have seen too much of it of late in between what we view in foreign nations and the vile aftermath of so many mass shootings. We must assess our humanity and wonder how or if it is even possible to maintain peace other forever. 

I cried this morning upon hearing about the people protesting in the streets of Israel. I cried at the thought of babies being paralyzed from polio in Gaza. I cried listening to the little Ukrainian student describing what schooling will be like. I cried when I heard of mass shooting or assassination attempts. I am so tired of crying and feeling helpless that any of it will ever change. Violence is hell for everyone. 

The small talk around our kitchen table often centers on what today’s college students ought to choose as majors. It’s an especially sensitive topic for me because I have always had a sense that members of my family who were more financially successful than I have been are a bit disapproving of my choice to be a teacher. I’ve heard a number of would’ve, could’ve should’ve comments from well meaning folks who seem to wonder if I squandered my intellectual potential on a career that seems to always be under fire from the general public. I suppose that in their minds the least I might have done would have been to be a college professor rather than a mathematics teacher who never once cleared six figures in my salary. 

I suppose they will never understand me or those who choose to major in music or dance or theater. They can’t imagine a practical use for English or History or Psychology. They lay most of the problems of the economy on young people who foolishly squander tuition on studying seemingly silly things. They insist that college should force students to be practical by choosing science or mathematics or technology or engineering. They see studying business as a far more practical route to take than a study of linguistics. They don’t appear to understand that not everyone enjoys such subjects and some even have the audacity to want to feel good about going to work when they finally use the lessons that they learned at a university. 

I constantly find myself defending the person who chooses to major in anthropology or visual arts. As an educator I know all too well that each of us have different ways of learning, different parts of our brains that are more active, different dreams of how we wish to live our lives. Sometimes the heft of our paychecks is not as important to many of us as doing something that gives us joy, that has meaning on a daily basis. 

Such issues led me to eagerly read a lovely article about an author’s attendance at a thirty year reunion of her class at Harvard. The fifty something alums gathered over a weekend filled with stories of how life had been for them since the times when they eagerly dreamed of futures that may or may not have ultimately transpired. In the pensive moments of conversation the author learned much about who is happy and who is still searching for the joy that they once sought.

In general she found that the most joyful and contented folks were those who chose to be teachers or doctors. Interacting with people and making a real difference in their lives seemed to be quite satisfying. Many of the business people spoke of trying something else before reaching retirement age. They were comfortable financially but had missed the feeling of accomplishment that comes with serving others. Ironically the artists of all kinds admitted to struggling with lower incomes but when all was said and done would not trade the dleight that they felt from performing or creating that was the main source of their satisfaction. 

The author pointed out that what everyone talked about the most was family, relationships, love. They had reached a point of being less judgmental than they had once been and less likely to worry about how they might be viewed in superficial ways. The meaning in life was found in people and those who had opportunities to share their talents with people were the most certain that they had chosen the right pathways in life. 

I often tell young people to do what they love. While that may sound dangerous if that person loves cooking more than anything, why would I not encourage him/her to find a way to use that passion as a life’s work? We always do a better job if we wake up in the morning wanting to go to work. We certainly need to pay rent and eat but I can’t think of anything worse than dreading a job that brings absolutely no joy no matter how much it may pay. 

Hundreds of years ago education was not so much about providing specific skills for a profession or career but about teaching young people to think and to understand how to use words and numbers and ideas. Scholars got a liberal arts degree in which they mastered writing, rhetoric, philosophy, Latin, Greek, literature, mathematics, and such. The focus was on widening the focus for students rather than narrowing down their abilities to a single area. Colleges and universities offer many majors not just to increase their cash flow or to find jobs for professors but because they know that theirs is a place for many kinds of knowledge in the world. How dull would life be without the many avenues of study that we humans have created. How awful it would feel if we all had to do the same kind of jobs.

Those Harvard grads seemed to have figured out that happiness is not always found in titles or bank accounts. Those things are nice to have but when we sit down with old friends and honestly speak of our lives the commonality that we all seem to share is all about what we do for others rather than what we have accumulated for ourselves. We need to remember that whenever a young person earnestly admits that he wants to try something that may sounds foolish to us. Who are we to dash dreams in favor of being practical? That young man or woman who majors in journalism may change the world. 

By now everyone knows whom everyone else is going to support in our upcoming Presidential election. Four years ago I made it very clear that I had never supported Donald Trump and never intended to do so. Today I am even more firmly entrenched in my feeling that Donald Trump is not worthy of filling the highest job in the land, but I also know many people who believe that he is the only candidate worthy of being our Commander in Chief. While I am realistic about this fact, I am still having difficulty understanding why it is so, and why even people who know and love each other can be so far apart in their political beliefs. 

I do not think that anything I say in my blog will change minds. If the incidents of January 6, 2021 did not cause people to spurn Trump forevermore then I doubt that any fact or revelation will ever do so. Sadly I was an eyewitness to what happened on that day. I know what I heard from the lips of Donald Trump and I know what I saw from those who stormed the Capitol. I did not tune out from the coverage until the last vote was tallied under the leadership of Mike Pence and Nancy Pelosi early the next morning in the dark before dawn. 

Nobody will ever convince me that Donald Trump did not maliciously attempt to overturn the results of a fair election. That alone should have barred him from running for office ever again, but here we are with a convicted felon promising vengeance against those brave souls who saw what he was doing on that day and wanted to hold him and his followers accountable. The fact that he continually argues that the people who have been jailed for their violence in that moment should be pardoned tells me that they were only doing his bid, and he knows it. How, I constantly ask myself, can any patriotic American who loves this nation and its ideals even suggest that such a man should be reinstated in his office?

Donald Trump was a failed president in my estimation. He mishandled the pandemic resulting in the needless deaths of thousands of Americans. He dishonored the military over and over again. He was unable to keep cabinet members because he had no honor and no idea what he was doing. He was a bully and a man who to this day stoops to schoolyard antics to demean women, the disabled, people who are overweight, anyone or group that he dislikes. When Mike Pence declares that he will not be able to support the man under whom he served as Vice President it seems to me that no more should have to be said. When high ranking military men tell us that they have no respect for Trump I truly wonder why we should trust him with our nuclear codes or as the spokesperson for our nation on the world stage. Put simply I do not believe that Donald Trump is good for the United States of America.

I was horrified when a sick young man attempted to assassinate Donald Trump. I am against violence in all instances. I do not want harm to come to him, but I would surely like for him and his toxicity to finally go away. I am not certain that our United States can take much more of his selfish and self serving behavior. We need a President whose first thoughts are for all of us, not his own personal issues. His meandering and lying may fool some, but it will never fool me. Nothing becomes true just because someone repeats it over and over again. Fact checking Trump is tedious because his statements are filled with fallacies and untruths, but doing so reveals just how dishonest he is. 

I once compared Trump to one of those door to door salespeople who latch onto a potential customer like a mad dog nipping at someone’s ankles. He blathers on and on hoping that we will grow weary and buy his boasts and lies. I learned a long time ago that the only way to deal with someone like that is to never open the door, but if we do so by mistake then we must have the courage to slam the door once it becomes apparent that he has nothing that we want. We have to be brave enough to call him out.

As I said before my comments here will endear me to those who already think like I do and will irk those who have their own ideas about Donald Trump. I simply wanted to make it clear for posterity that I will be voting for honesty, patriotism, my democracy. Donald Trump represents none of those things. He is a traitor to our constitution and I hope that we the people will not allow him to defile the United States with his hatefulness and divisiveness ever again. I will be voting for Kamala Harris and Tim Walz. I put this in writing because I believe with all of my being that doing anything less threatens all that we Americans hold dear. I do this because I believe that in this moment it is now up to us to protect our nation from someone who would tear it down to bolster his own selfish pride. 

I don’t sleep well at night. I worry that we are all in grave danger from Donald Trump. He is a clear and present danger to the very foundations of our democracy. He is already setting the stage for either a win or a loss. He will be trouble whichever way things go. I hope with every fiber of my being that somehow we will finally put him and his outrageous ideas to rest. It can only happen if enough of us take the time to vote him out. Maybe just maybe someone who is on the fence will read this and change his or her mind. It certainly can’t hurt for me to try to get just one more vote against a man who is so wrong for America.