"Government is not reason; it is not eloquent; it is force. Like fire, it is a dangerous servant and a fearful master." - George Washington
Those closest to me thought I was absolutely out of my mind for signing up to take 80 eighth grade students to Washington, D.C. this week. Perhaps they had a point but the outcome, nay, the sleep deprivation, was well worth the message that a trip to Washington sends, not only to young people but to adults like myself, who shockingly have never been to Washington. This trip would be a lesson in accountability, history, and the importance of public service.
The six hour bus ride which began at 6 a.m. took us to the United States Holocaust Museum. At approximately 12:30 p.m., we unloaded from the buses to stand witness to the horrors of the Holocaust. Washington was unseasonably cold and bitter, very fitting for a visit to a collection of historical horror. The museum which is also a place for families of the Holocaust to grieve and pay respects, requires absolute silence. It was interesting to watch each one of the students comply. The smells of the cargo train carrying so many innocent Jews to their death, and the smell of hundreds of leather shoes piled high were all that was needed to send a message and ask the ultimate questions, "Why? How?" So much loss of life. Our students got on the bus and were quiet. So was I. Did they get the message? Did they?
After lunch, it was off to the Smithsonian's three museums and let me tell you, I bee-lined it directly to the red ruby slippers worn by Judy Garland in "The Wizard of Oz." Call me crazy, but those slippers meant something to me as a child. They meant hope, and well, they were pretty. Not far from the slippers were the presidential exhibits. I learned about each and every presidential assassination and it sickened me but then I walked to the exhibit of the first ladies. Behind every man is their steadfast, stable and loving if not honest partner. Our first ladies had taste, strength, and withstood so much of their husband's accomplishments and sorrows. I saw the airplanes of Amelia Earhart and Charles Lindbergh. I saw the most beautiful orchid exhibit. It reminded me how badly I wished the spring weather would arrive. Back on the bus.
After dinner, it was the World War II Memorial, the Korean War Memorial, the Vietnam Memorial and then if history had not presented enough heartbreak, the majestic Lincoln Memorial. I stood on the exact spot that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. gave his "I have a dream" speech and looked at Lincoln and wondered whether their incredible strength and personal sacrifice could ever be duplicated. Where did these men, including all those who died in the face of war, get their personal conviction? Were we, as the public, truly grateful or have we become complacent?
Nothing would prepare me for the following day. The morning sun and the chilled air and the comfort of the bus and our driver, took us to the Capital. At the security checkpoint, the alarm sounded as I walked through and I immediately put my hands in the air. It was my bracelet!!!!! Let me just say for the record, they are VERY serious about security at the Capital. As we walked through the rotunda, among the statues and the art work, Speaker of the House, John Boehner walked through with his head down and headed to his office. I noticed him but none of the kids did. The tour guide brought him to our attention with nothing more than another indication like she did with the other statues and paintings. I thought to myself, . "Mr. Boehner, you couldn't have thrown us a bone here and perhaps waved or said "Hello," and nodded your head. Really?" I learned today that a budget was passed on the "Hill" so perhaps I'll forgive him...this time.
The changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Solider, the thousands of white marble gravestones and crosses strategically placed on acres and acres of farmland were next. Not a word was spoken. The understated graves of brothers, the Kennedys, the youngest having probably suffered the most, burying the other two along with one of the most intriguing first ladies in history. I cried, silently. No one should have to go through the violence or pain while living a life of service.Or perhaps, this is what a life of service means for those strong enough to withstand it. We have thousands, literally thousands that fit that bill.
Then, 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue was before us and there was The White House. It was grand, simple and very, very white. I would go as far as to say pure white which of course is the point. The White House is the ultimate symbol of the greatest decisions ever made by one man in any given term as the leader of this country. Across the street was an older, weathered woman manning the longest protest in history. That's what Washington is...our voice, our ideas, our way of life intermingled with politics.
The end of our trip brought us to the Battle of Iwo Jima Memorial, the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial and the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial. Did you know that if you rub the ears of the statue of Roosevelt's beloved dog Fallah, that it will bring good luck? Luck was something I was slowly doubting ever existed in history. History was teaching me that personal sacrifice, candor, intelligence created our nation and the Washington that we were seeing today. As we and the very, very exhausted eighth grade class of 2013 got on the bus to journey home, I couldn't help but feel that I was the one who had changed.
Washington made me feel rebellious, passionate and ready to invent a future generation that would not settle, that would study and educate themselves with some direction from teachers like ourselves.These eighth graders would hopefully develop the respect and the love of their own history. For myself, as I got off the bus, and watched anxious parents hug and kiss their children and grab their suitcases , I grabbed my suitcase and returned home to my husband, who by the way, served his country in the United States Coast Guard. I felt like we could all change the direction of our lives, our country with one simple act...the act of service to those in need. The act of service to protect the future of those eighth graders who by the way, did object to the curfew but wished me good night in spite of their objections. I wish them a bright, successful future but more than that, I wish them a full history, one that will be epic and life-changing.
The changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Solider, the thousands of white marble gravestones and crosses strategically placed on acres and acres of farmland were next. Not a word was spoken. The understated graves of brothers, the Kennedys, the youngest having probably suffered the most, burying the other two along with one of the most intriguing first ladies in history. I cried, silently. No one should have to go through the violence or pain while living a life of service.Or perhaps, this is what a life of service means for those strong enough to withstand it. We have thousands, literally thousands that fit that bill.
Then, 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue was before us and there was The White House. It was grand, simple and very, very white. I would go as far as to say pure white which of course is the point. The White House is the ultimate symbol of the greatest decisions ever made by one man in any given term as the leader of this country. Across the street was an older, weathered woman manning the longest protest in history. That's what Washington is...our voice, our ideas, our way of life intermingled with politics.
The end of our trip brought us to the Battle of Iwo Jima Memorial, the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial and the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial. Did you know that if you rub the ears of the statue of Roosevelt's beloved dog Fallah, that it will bring good luck? Luck was something I was slowly doubting ever existed in history. History was teaching me that personal sacrifice, candor, intelligence created our nation and the Washington that we were seeing today. As we and the very, very exhausted eighth grade class of 2013 got on the bus to journey home, I couldn't help but feel that I was the one who had changed.
Washington made me feel rebellious, passionate and ready to invent a future generation that would not settle, that would study and educate themselves with some direction from teachers like ourselves.These eighth graders would hopefully develop the respect and the love of their own history. For myself, as I got off the bus, and watched anxious parents hug and kiss their children and grab their suitcases , I grabbed my suitcase and returned home to my husband, who by the way, served his country in the United States Coast Guard. I felt like we could all change the direction of our lives, our country with one simple act...the act of service to those in need. The act of service to protect the future of those eighth graders who by the way, did object to the curfew but wished me good night in spite of their objections. I wish them a bright, successful future but more than that, I wish them a full history, one that will be epic and life-changing.
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