With so many
concerns affecting our nation, world and planet, it can be tempting to lose
hope. An overload of vitriol, vendettas and violence threatens to establish volatility
as the status quo. In times like this, it takes a deeply concerted effort to
stem the tide of negativity.
So often, we turn to education and
the arts in search of solutions to the stresses. We begin by looking for a
window into what ails us, through investigation, perspective and reflection. We
welcome a reason to breathe deeply, think different, and find a way forward.
Many Americans have turned to podcasts
in recent years as trusted sources of information. The 60 Minutes of podcasts remains This
American Life, which for more than 20 years has been producing weekly stories
based around a single theme. Many of the show’s episodes in recent months have
focused on how our government operates today, and many others have looked
deeply into immigration. Tomorrow, the show will release a new episode on
border walls around the world. I know that I will be listening and learning.
Documentaries are in a golden age right
now, as so many filmmakers are experimenting with different ways of crafting
nonfiction movies, and streaming services such as Netflix offer new ways for
viewers to access these films. Last week, my brother Eric, who writes about
documentaries for many publications and also serves as film curator at the
Museum of the Moving Image, introduced me to a 10-part documentary series that
appeared on Starz last year. It’s called America
to Me, and it chronicles a year in the life of an Illinois high school. The
series, which was created by Steve James (best known for Hoop Dreams and The
Interrupters), is a stunning look into the ways in which teens and teachers
learn about one another, society at large, and themselves in the world of
American public education.
Young adult books have never been more
popular, and agents and publishers have worked diligently to find authors who
specialize in connecting with younger readers. Jacqueline Woodson is about as
good as it gets in young-adult fiction these days, and her recent book Harbor Me follows a half-dozen students
whose teacher gives them a chance to meet, once a week, by themselves in a
classroom to talk. They call it the ARTT room (“A Room to Talk”) and in that
space, these six students make connections that allow them to gain some amazing
degrees of understanding, empathy and compassion. I’m not a young adult
anymore, but I couldn’t put the book down.
History books line the bestseller lists
today, many of them trying to help us make sense of the chaos in our country
and world. Perhaps the most-praised history book in recent months is These Truths by Jill Lepore, an
ambitious, 800-page text that chronicles the entire history of the United
States. In doing so, the book asks if “these truths” that the Declaration
declared to be “self-evident” – political equality, natural rights, and the
sovereignty of the people – have indeed been met in these past two and a half
centuries. I just started the book, and I know it will take awhile for me to
get through it. But I’m committed to reading, reflecting and reconsidering my
own assumptions and biases.
Teenagers are always pointing a way
forward for those of us paying attention. This weekend, I’m helping to
chaperone a Model United Nations conference, in which 200 of my school’s
students and hundreds more are gathering in a Pennsylvania hotel to present
papers, resolutions and amendments in a mini-UN filled with delegations,
chairpersons and a down-to-the-minute itinerary. It’s the kind of stuff that
takes your breath away and leads you to believe that, if we don’t scar them
first, these young people can help us all find a path toward understanding, collaboration
and fellowship. I just watched two delegations debating education and refugee
issues, and while there was no universal agreement, there was a ton of listening,
learning, and respecting.
Most of the educational programs and
arts initiatives in this world are beyond my knowledge, so these few examples
are just the tip of the iceberg. But they are a reminder, to me, of where I want
to spend my energies when considering a way out of the darkness in today’s
world. When I learn from these students, artists and journalists, I have one
job: To think about the ways in which the stories I’m seeing and hearing can be
channeled into my own interactions with the world around me. One person, one
step, one day at a time: That’s the most we can ask, but it’s our
responsibility to pay attention and look toward the light.
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