This a second post of letters I shared with teachers in our Weekly Update during the 2015-16 school year. If you're a reader, educator, mom, dad, or student, I hope you enjoy it. Probably one of the most important things I've learned in life is we learn some of our most important lessons from the experiences of others. I hope this small piece of one of my experiences helps you on your journey.
T.
From the Weekly Update to teachers 2015-16:
Being
grateful. Understanding your place. Seeing with a wider point of view. Being
patriotic. Gaining perspective. Yes,
this is another Army story. Yes, it’s related to what we do as educators –
promise…and this is the last update of 2015-16 J. If you’ve been reading the update, you’ve come
across a couple of my “Army” stories: “Sometimes You Have to Pull the Trigger”
and “Failure to Adapt”. I can’t really explain why my mind has focused here as
of late, but so far, so good so here goes:
Entering
military service is even rougher than it appears from the outside and it really
isn’t like the movies, at least not in my experience in June of 1988. After high
school graduation, I still had a lot to learn about the wider world. Let me
preface this piece by saying I think many of us learn over time and develop a
wider view of the world and our part in it or maybe our role in it. As it
happened, my learning and tempering came in service to our country.
My
lessons came in several pieces of my 1988 – 1993 service. The first came during
my BASIC training. The Fourth of July occurred at Ft. McClellan, Alabama and it
was annually celebrated on the post. After about four weeks of training, we
were getting a respite because of the Fourth of July much to the chagrin of our
drill sergeants who preferred we remain on lock down with some meager
celebration – in their minds no holidays for us were necessary, they were busy
toughening us up. Our commander had ordered us into a beige patriotic t-shirt
we all purchased with an eagle and a U.S. Flag on the front, our gray physical
training shorts, white socks, running shoes, and a two-inch wide OD green
combat web belt with a canteen attached. Yes, we looked marvelous. We marched a
few miles to the parade field and sat closely together in the humid night air.
A presentation was made as the sun sank and an officer from the post sang a
song I hadn’t heard before. In 1988,“God Bless the USA” by Lee Greenwood was
just four years old (how time flies). Some soldiers sang along and it was
heartfelt with what appeared to be thousands sitting on the ground in the
audience and a few soldiers joined arms and swayed. The hoots and hollers during and after the
song were many and in all honesty, I really didn’t get it at first. It was
unlike any civilian exhibition of fireworks I had experienced as a kid growing
up in St. James, Missouri. The soldiers and families there seemed to exude a
feeling in the air that this night was more than just breathtaking fireworks in
the air, it wasn’t just entertainment. I questioned what they were feeling, but
I felt it too. I was part of something bigger – my country, and I really didn’t
understand it.
Flash
forward three years to 1991 and Frankfurt, Germany. It was my first overseas post and I found
myself as a military policeman guarding a large Army compound called the Abrams
complex (click to see it HERE– a truly
unique place in Frankfurt where the I.G. Farben Industry developed nerve agents
for the Nazis, then found their offices taken over at the close of WWII by
Allied Forces). During the night the air war in Iraq was declared and a virtual
takeover of the Abrams complex occurred. I knew why. We had been briefed over
the weeks and months leading up to the air war in Iraq that military compounds
overseas would be targets for unsavory supporters of Iraq. Even Saddam Hussein
had encouraged we be targeted. Our guard force went from a small group eleven
guards to a force nearing one hundred with supplemental MPs and Infantry in a
matter of an hour. This complex contained the V Corps headquarters and
according to reports, the compound had been threatened many times. Soon the
additional forces would arrive and mirrors on small-wheeled carts attached to
poles would be slid under vehicles entering the complex to search for bombs and
regular entry points would be shut down. Everyone entering would be funneled
though a few winding, well guarded choke points. On this day I remembered
feeling uneasy waiting for supplemental forces to arrive, I was sent alone to
patrol the perimeter of the front of the Abrams building and I was told to take
an extra weapon, my M-16 rifle, normally we carried only a .45 pistol. If you
clicked the link, you know the front of the complex was a large area, it
probably measured 20 acres or more. In the quiet, ill-lit night I chambered a
round in my M16 as I thought - not everyone in the world loved Americans. The traffic
jams of security checks began.
Flash
forward again only a few months later and I found myself in Northern, Iraq. The
area ISIS terrorizes and murders the Christian Kurdish people today. It was in
a place called Zakhu I had one of the most profound moments in my service. I was stationed at a community water faucet; these
were hotspots for arguments and possible tampering. A pipe coming out of the
ground looked like a US home’s outdoor faucet, minus the house and hose. Groups
of young girls in pale colored one piece dresses of faded blue, white and red appeared
to be in grade school and came to fill up their “buckets” at the pipe. These buckets
were essentially any dusty plastic container that could hold fluid. Amazingly,
one of the young girls spoke English very well. She couldn’t have been more
than 11. We were able to ask simple questions and even joke with her. She
enjoyed talking to us, seemingly eager to use her English with American
soldiers. She and the other younger girls with her made the trip regularly to
the faucet. It appeared the entire block used the same faucet and sent their
young girls to fetch water. As she left and faded down the dusty path in her
pale blue cotton dress with her friends, her smile and the light in her dark eyes
warmed my heart. I still see her face smiling and framed in thick raven colored
tousled hair today. In that moment as she departed, my Sergeant said, “Just
think, she’ll never know America, this place is all she’ll ever have in life.”
My heart dropped as I scanned the dry foothills and the meager buildings that
passed as homes. My nose filled with the smell of sewage and trash that trickled
down the street the girl walked down. She would likely NEVER know America. The
world as she knew it was Iraq and possibly still is today, now the ruthless
terrorist hunting ground where ISIS gathers young girls to do with them as they
please and murders Christian men. On that day in 1991 I had the same model of
OD green web belt around my waist as I had used in the BASIC training July 4th
celebration, along with two canteens this time, not one. I knew other trained
soldiers had purified my water or I had one of the many bottles of purified water
the Army had purchased from Turkey in my Humvee. However, my advantages went
far beyond clean water. I would leave Iraq via my Humvee and then on a U.S. Air
force C-5 Galaxy airplane. I realized I would return home and the young girl in
the faded blue cotton dress would never know my home; Iraq was her only world.
Gaining
Perspective – we really are in the greatest country in the world. We celebrate
games with different size and shape balls, crown homecoming queens, hold
classes in air-conditioned rooms with connections and windows to the world at
our fingertips. We encourage and maybe even spoil our kids some in the America
of plenty. The tool to balance living in
a world of abundance and raising kids that value little is teaching Americana.
We are the teachers of Americana. We are important in how students develop in
our culture. As we were acculturated in high school as teens we began and later
many of us had tempering experiences that made us value what we have achieved
as a country – an imperfect, but constantly looking for ways to improve and
lead the rest of the world country.
I
don’t pretend to have the world figured out or even our country, but I’ve seen
enough to know our humble school system is a key element in who our young
people become and how they interact and relate to the world. A high school
filled with encouragers did it for me in St. James, Missouri and their lessons
weren’t lost – they were an essential beginning. As you hit the summer break,
keep your head high and think of your own tempering in life and the times you
gained perspective. Remember how you were able to impact students and what
you’ll do to improve for the coming year. Next school year, remember you’re a
part of the acculturation and encouragement of our future citizens – leaders in
our world; hopefully leaders of how to be learners that are grateful,
resilient, flexible, altruistic, kind and innovative. Americans.
No comments:
Post a Comment