By Laura Tornello
This morning, I’m thinking about the danger of accepting things as they are. I’m thinking about one of my favorite lines from Henry David Thoreau’s essay Walden; the author decides to move to an isolated cabin in the woods and reflect on who he is apart from society, but even within a short time there, he finds himself falling into routines: “I had not lived there a week before my feet wore a path from my door to the pond side; and though it is five or six years since I trod it, it is still quite distinct. It is true, I fear, that others may have fallen into it, and so helped to keep it open. The surface of the earth is soft and impressionable by the feet of men; and so with the paths which the mind travels. How worn and dusty, then, must be the highways of the world, how deep the ruts of tradition and conformity." I’m also thinking about one particular line of “The Declaration of Independence” that keeps resonating with me: “All experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.” And most of all, I’m thinking about the movie V for Vendetta, which depicts a dystopian world in the not-so-distant future, where the UK is ruled by a fascist police state. In one pivotal scene, a masked revolutionary named “V” takes over the state-run British Television Network and broadcasts his message to the world: "Allow me first to apologize for this interruption,” he begins. "I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of the everyday routine, the security of the familiar, the tranquility of repetition.” And then he goes on to say: "There are, of course, those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now orders are being shouted into telephones and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there?...How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well certainly there are those who are more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable. But again, truth be told...if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror.” I’ll admit it’s a difficult morning to be an American. Let’s be honest: it’s a difficult morning to be a human. I woke up to news of the Dallas shootings and am still grappling with the two men shot and killed by police in the past few days. I also still haven’t forgotten, of course, about the lives lost in Orlando, and Baghdad, and Istanbul. And this is all happening against a political landscape that day by day feels increasingly more polarized, corrupt, and disenfranchising to the majority of citizens (or perhaps it’s always been that way, but the spectacle of the 2016 election season is making these problems even more glaringly apparent.) I think everyone would agree that there are large-scale changes that must, absolutely must happen in our society. But why haven’t they happened already? There’s this overwhelming sense in the public discourse right now (whether it’s on major news outlets or your Facebook feed) that it’s simply too difficult to make any substantial reforms. The issues change (gun control, police brutality, systemic racism, LGBTQ equality, women’s rights issues and access to reproductive health, campaign finance reform, the prevalence of super PACs and lobbyists dictating the political agenda, universal health care, even standardized testing), but the response is often six quite simple and, in my mind, dangerous words: “That’s the way it’s always been.” Because it’s always easier to stay the same, isn’t it? We cling to patterns and traditions and routines because they give us a sense of stability and bring order to what can often feel like an overwhelming world. At our core, we are creatures of habit. Thoreau recognized this; in spite of literally removing himself from the constraints of society, he found himself carving the same paths over and over. The founding fathers recognized this too; they acknowledge that we are often far more likely put up with evils rather than “abolishing the forms to which [we] are accustomed.” We did ultimately rebel against Britain, of course; the Declaration outlines a list of very specific grievances and makes it clear that the colonists are no longer willing to put up with the way things are. The scales have shifted; suddenly the “forms to which they [were] accustomed” seem far worse than the unknown. The risk and uncertainty are worth it, for the potential to create something better. But what do you do when there isn’t a ruling power? How do you declare independence from your current selves? I’m struggling to answer this question myself. But I do know this: the first step is always what V advocates at the end of his speech in V for Vendetta: “you need only look in a mirror.” I’m spending a lot of time right now reflecting on my own life experiences (as a teacher, as a white person, as a woman) and trying to stay unbiased and open to others’ perspectives. I’m reflecting on my own privilege and drawing on times where I’ve felt marginalized and discriminated against in order to find empathy for others, while making sure that I don’t presume to step inside someone else’s experiences and struggles. And because it’s me (absurdly enthusiastic English teacher who is borderline obsessed with The Great Gatsby, for those of you new APUSHers who don’t know me), I’m reminding myself of a passage from the screenplay for F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”: “For what it’s worth: it’s never too late... to be whoever you want to be. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.”
1 Comment
Patty
7/24/2016 01:28:54 pm
Love this posting -- (I'm also a very enthusiastic teacher of American lit, also borderline obsessed w/ THE GREAT GATSBY!) -- and that quote from Benjamin Button seems to speak to the very idea behind the American Dream -- a concept I talk about a LOT in my class -- whether it exists or not, how it all began, why the concept took hold in America vs anywhere else. I was thinking of this just yesterday (I think that's right!) when Hillary Clinton was introducing Tim Kaine as her VP and she talked about America being built on optimism. OF course, that's the positive spin-- and it IS true, while at the same time it is also true that America was built on the exclusion of some people, on the genocide of some people, too. It is our great conundrum. de Crévecoeur says "There is room for everybody in America" and while many of us hope that's true, we have seen, sadly, all to recently that it isn't. Not yet. Well, maybe there is ROOM, but we haven't yet allowed everyone in the room to thrive.
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