A Response to Prejudice

A friend posted a link to an article that got my blood boiling as an educator, an American, a Christian, and so on: "Liberal Double Standards: Public Schools Teaching Islam is Okay"

(For the record, I love my friend. We clearly have different opinions on certain things, but this is a rebuttal of an article, not an attack on her.)

The title alone is enough to get me going. What does that mean? Does it mean that they are teaching that Islam is an acceptable religion? Seems odd, given that it is public school. And, what is the alternative? Should public schools be preaching against Islam? Clearly, this is going to be a doozy. Then I read the article.

Wow. This was the most bigoted piece of writing I have read in ages. The author, Matt Duncan, takes one assignment (with no context), lumps it in with a fair dose of “atheist conspiracy” theory, to create a piece that would be laughable if it wasn’t so nauseating.

The basis for the rant cited above is the religious right's imagined "war on Christianity." The author takes issue with "liberals" promoting Islam while degrading Christianity. I find it pathetic that the right is so determined to be "persecuted" that they are willing to take a few examples of "liberals" attacking Christianity and turning it into a full-fledged war on Christianity. This piece is just another example.

For the record, as a world history teacher, I would hand out something like this. Why? Because, Muslims HAVE made great contributions to world history. We can thank them for a great deal of our understanding of mathematics, for example, not to mention medicine, astronomy, and so on. That assignment says nothing of their religious contributions; what Duncan fails to understand is that while "separation of church and state"/establishment clause (whichever your pleasure) is the rule de jour, historically, religion/government/education/etc. were all interrelated. So, you cannot separate the accomplishments of Muslim empires from the fact that they were, indeed, Muslim. In fact, like Mormons, the drive amongst ancient Muslims for understanding of the universe was rooted in their religious faith (one of many things that makes modern "conservative" Islam so ironic).

Here are some reasons to throw nonsense like this in the trash where it belongs:

1-The author gives us the name of this teacher and the school. What we do not have is CONTEXT. We don’t know the course he teaches, the age level he teaches, his political leanings,... ANYTHING to indicate that this person is anything other than a teacher (my guess would be high school world history) teaching kids about the contributions of a group of people (who happened to be united by a religious world view…as most groups of people were, historically).

2-The author alleges that "progressives and atheists alike froth at the mouth at the very thought of Christianity or God being mentioned in our public schools..." I have two issues with this:

• Any teacher can tell you that Christianity and God come up quite a lot in public schools... especially in the humanities. You cannot teach history without teaching about religion. You cannot teach literature without understanding basic Judeo-Christian theology. Is he talking about efforts by some to remove the Pledge of Allegiance from the classroom, or public prayers which favor one religion over another (the former being kind of an odd thing that, contrary to popular opinion, is a relatively recent addition to the public school day, and the latter a clear violation of the establishment clause which, by the way, IS in the first amendment)? There is a big difference between teaching religion and promoting it. The former is perfectly acceptable under the First Amendment; the latter is not. Which leads to:
• The verbiage of this line is a clear attempt to lump a very large and varied group of people in with a small minority of vocal atheists, vilifying the entire group for the actions of a few. Vis-à-vis education, MOST progressives want equity in public discussions of world religions—that is, an acknowledgement that proponents of all major world religions have contributed to modern knowledge. I think some Christians see that attempt at equity as a threat to their traditional dominance over Western education, which I find ridiculous and small-minded.

3-This line: “…the vile and evil cult known as Islam…” At this point, the author reveals himself as an ignorant bigot. It is one thing to believe your own religion is the true path to God. I believe that. However, it is quite another to point at another and call it “vile and evil.” There are Muslims who deserve such description. There are Christians who deserve the same. Have we forgotten the Crusades? The treatment of Native peoples in the New World? Christians have plenty of blood on their hands. As a Christian, I acknowledge that legacy for what it is: evil people using religion as an excuse to act out their own internal evils. I do not blame Christ or the Gospel for their actions. Similarly, I do not blame Islam for 9/11 or the Taliban. I don’t blame Buddha or Buddhism for persecutions and wars fought by Buddhists. Throughout history, people have found excuses to hate and to fight one another. Religion is simply the easiest and most obvious excuse. “We’re not invading your kingdom for gold or slaves or access to trade routes. We’re doing it because God/the gods want us to!” It lends a false legitimacy to selfish acts.

Coming back to my original intent: This assignment is not evidence of a conspiracy amongst some organized and homogeneous group of “progressives and atheists” (no such group) to promote Islam above Christianity. This author is reveals ignorance and bigotry by blowing a legitimate assignment completely out of proportion.

It’s this sort of thinking that is causing an immense divide in our nation that makes me fear for our future. How can we have dialogue if people insist on being petty, intolerant, and prejudiced? 

I See This...

I see this: 

**edit** unfortunately, the picture has been removed and I can't find it. Imagine a sign that says something about missing "the old America..."**

 
And I say this: 

Which "Old America"? The one where we fought two wars based on lies, killing thousands of American soldiers and tens of thousands of our "enemies" (often women and children); where we passed education legislation that has set us back decades; where we did away with a balanced budget and a surplus in favor of a huge deficit (the kind that happens when you start wars and cut taxes at the same time)? 

Or shall we go back to the one where people of African descent were barred de juro or de facto from anything but menial labor and from neighborhoods, restaurants, schools, and so on that their white neighbors enjoyed? 

Or shall we go even further to the time when women were limited to jobs as secretaries or receptionists? 

Or to when women couldn't even vote? 

Or to when there were no labor laws so children worked 12-hour shifts, 7 days a week so that their families could pay for overpriced food in company stores that effectively kept them in a state of de facto servitude to wealthy fatcats? 

Shall we go back to when only white, landowning men could vote and black men, women and children were bought, sold, beaten, and bred like animals?

When is this supposed golden age of America that everyone seems to want to go back to?

Dear Mr. Grouchy-shorts at the Pool:

I'm not sure why you were so grouchy when you left. I'm sure that, despite your glares every time I came to the wall, it had nothing to do with the fact that my backstroke spanked your front crawl.

Best,

FWC (Fat White Chick)

So, in an effort to not hijack a friend's facebook post, I'm posting a rant here.

She posted this article from LDS Living: "What Do Mormon Men Want In A Wife?"

Everything about this frustrates me (and confirms that I will probably never marry a Mormon man... not because I don't want to, but because I'm not what he's looking for).

But it was this comment that made me see red:

"But again, men aren’t looking for supermodels. What are they looking for? One man put it this way: 'I’m usually not looking at weight or fitness or anything like that. . . . To me, it’s a lot more about whether they look like they have enough esteem in themselves to, when they go out, try to make themselves be their best.'"

Fellas, let me tell you, this is a lie that men tell themselves to make themselves feel better about superficiality.I shower daily, fix my hair (doesn't seem like it in humidity, but I do), wear make-up, and try to find clothes that are both comfortable and flattering. I have some nice features. I even exercise from time to time. However, I am significantly overweight.... and I can't get a guy to talk to me, let alone ask me out.  I used to hear guys at BYU say, "I just want a girl who takes care of herself." These guys never asked out girls who weren't slender. Ergo, "takes care of herself" is guy-code for "is slender."

It's a cop-out, fellas, and you're only fooling yourselves.

Summer in DC

Hi Everyone!

I'm so excited to be attending the Clarice Smith National Teacher Institute at the Smithsonian American Art Museum this summer. 

However, my school is unable to help fund the trip, and I was not selected for a scholarship, so I'm looking for other funding sources. 

If you have a few dimes to spare, can you help me out? Please check out my Go Fund Me page. 

Thank you!

An Essay, by Me

Just a few moments ago, I submitted my first assignment for a class in over a decade. It's Coursera, so this class has no bearing on my life, but it was still intimidating. The course is Rhetorical Writing II, and the assignment was a "getting to know you" sort of deal. This is what I wrote:

But, I’m Not a Writer

by Amanda Stark

I spoke with my dad on the phone recently. He said, “So, I read your blog. It’s good. You should write.” Interesting. The idea of writing for something other than my personal journal had been percolating somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain for the last few years, but I hadn’t expended any effort on acting on it.

You see, I am not a writer; I’m a reader—at least that’s what I believed for most of my life. When the idea of writing for an audience first occurred to me, I ignored it. I’m not a writer. I’m a reader. Yet, writing has been something I have been “good at” for a long time. In elementary school, I remember winning awards for short stories I wrote and attending a young writers’ conference in a nearby city. I don’t remember what I wrote about (knowing me, it probably included horses), or what we did at the conference. But my elementary teachers for at least two years thought I was a good enough writer to represent my school at this conference.

A few years (and two school districts) later, I was in eleventh grade and I somehow found myself in an advanced composition course. I’m sure there was some sort of prerequisite writing course, but I hadn’t taken it. Was I recommended for the course? I don’t recall. What I do remember was a note my teacher wrote on my literary analysis of Huck Finn. She said I was a good writer. But—I thought—I’m not a writer. I’m a reader.

I started university with every intention of becoming an elementary school teacher. One month into my freshman year at Brigham Young University—after the first two experiments in my “Physical Science for El Ed majors” convinced me that I even if I wanted to be an elementary teacher, I could not handle four years of working with BYU  El Ed majors—I sat looking at the course offerings for secondary education. I knew I wanted to teach, but what? I pondered on the classes I’d liked the best in high school and wandered off to the appropriate office to change my major to History Teaching. I liked history. History is reading, right? And, I’m a reader.

But, history isn’t just reading. History is also writing. (But, I’m not … )

 I struggled through my “writing for history” courses. It wasn’t that I didn’t know how to write. It was more a mental block. It was one of those this-is-going-to-be-hard-so-I-don’t-know-where-to-start things. I procrastinated. I whined. I played solitaire. I watched “Friends.” Eventually, I started writing. My final grade on my senior paper was 297 out of 300—I had written “than” instead of “then,” or maybe “then” instead of “than.” But, I’m … ?

During my first couple of years as a teacher, the only thing I really wrote was cover letters. My first job got cut after a year by a Republican governor “getting tough on the budget.” My second job was a year-long ESL gig in Seoul. My third teaching job was as a middle school social studies and language arts teacher at a small school in the southwestern-most corner of South Korea. I remember accepting the job, thinking, “Of course I can teach English…I’m a reader…”

I started blogging. It was really a way to share my ex-pat life with friends and family back home without writing endless emails. At first my blog was mostly pictures, but as social networks made photo sharing easier, I started spending more time blogging my thoughts. Blogging was the cowardly route for me. Yes, a blog is public, but who would read it unless I told them about it? I could write “publicly,” but no one had to know. Even so, I dithered about with every post. I hoped that someone would read it, but feared it at the same time. What if I was wrong? What if I wrote badly? I envisioned nameless, faceless netizens criticizing my every syllable, disparaging my conclusions, and even maybe condemning me in comments.

But, I wrote. Occasionally, I risked the emotional onslaught I feared most by posting my blog posts on Twitter or Facebook. As I ventured further and further out onto this precarious perch of public writing, I had an epiphany: without even realizing it, I had turned to writing to process life, good or bad. As my friends and I drove through the technicolor canyons of Southern Utah at sunrise on a college road trip, I grabbed a pen and paper to write a poem.  When I was aggravated with a boss, I punched out my frustrations on my keyboard, drafting a scathing letter which I, of course, never sent. When I found out that my dog—my faithful companion, my beautiful baby bear who greeted me every day with a sloppy smile and slept by my bedside when I was anxious, but whom I had had to leave behind with loving friends in Texas when I returned to Korea—had died, I tossed and turned for hours until I finally got out of bed, turned on my computer, and wrote until the words and tears ran dry.

My epiphany was that while I may not be a novelist (though, I hope that is still up for debate), I am a writer. Writing for me is no longer simply an academic exercise; it is a coping mechanism. It is how I sort out the hopes, fears, frustrations, exhilarations that are a part of life. I AM a reader, but I am also a writer.

Very Excited...

...to start one of my favorites again: