I do not have statistics to back me up. I have nothing to go on but a guess and
a hope. I HOPE most elementary
classes begin their day with the recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance. That is how we begin our day in the
Magic Tree House. Hang up coats,
turn in homework, catch up on the local gossip, show off their latest Happy
Meal toy, throw the wrapper in the garbage for the snack they ate on the bus
that was supposed to be saved for snack time, look at the daily job chart, and then
stand at attention for the Pledge to the flag. Our goal is to get in the Pledge before the intercom crackles to
life with daily announcements. We
usually make it.
There is a protocol that must occur when saying the
pledge. Have you ever done a
little looking around when reciting the Pledge in a public place? Take note sometime of who is totally
zoned into it and who is mumbling the words while picking dirt out of their
fingernails. I guarantee the over-sixty
crowd will be eyes forward, heart-in-it, standing at attention and focused on
the flag. Many of those younger
will be mouthing the words because they somehow know they should, or it is a
necessary hurdle before the game can start.
This is something I hope to instill within my students. I get them very early in their academic
careers. Maybe I have a shot. Americans have become tremendously
apologetic about our wealth and standing in the world. We even are sliding towards the
misguided notion that within our own borders all Americans should share
equally. Those that are the most
motivated to go out and grab the brass ring are now expected to share their
wealth with those not equally motivated.
This is alarming to me.
When I was a child, this philosophy’s given name was called
socialism. It is wrapped in a
different coat now, but it is the same ugly baby. I am not saying patriotism is dead. I AM saying it has taken a sucker punch
to the gut.
When I was very young, three years old or so, my mother went
to work. Nobody explained why to
me. It was still fairly unusual
for mothers to do so there in the mid-sixties. Only the decade before it had been nearly unheard of, but in
my early years, some women did indeed hit the job market. Maybe my father needed her help in the
private elementary school where he was the administrator. Maybe they needed the money. Maybe she simply wanted to be a part of
the early bubblings of the Feminist Movement (this I doubt). I do not know. I just know I was now was rousted early
and bundled off to spend my days with my grandparents at 702 January Lane.
I adored Grandma and Grandpa Miller. I could not have been happier. They adored me as well and I was
content to spend my days basking in their attention and love. My grandparents lived directly across
the street from the Ferguson Middle School, a sprawling brick edifice on the
outskirts of downtown St. Louis.
Every morning at precisely the same time (I do not know what time that
was as I was only three and could not read a clock yet. I only know it came after Romper Room
and before Captain Kangaroo), my grandmother would call me to the front window
and together we would watch the flag being raised in front of the school. Then as it flapped in the Missouri breeze,
we would place our hands over our hearts and say the Pledge of Allegiance.
The first time Grandma had me follow this odd and unfamiliar
ritual, it felt uncomfortable and strange. The words made no sense and were difficult for my little
tongue. But after following the
same procedure daily and listening to her quavery voice and seeing her
undistracted cateye-glasses gaze, I began to learn the words haltingly, and
then confidently. Before long, I
was calling HER to the front window and leading the charge, like a Boy Scout at
summer camp. My gentle grandmother
taught me how to stand at attention and keep my gaze on that beautiful flag; the
red stripes symbolic for valor, and the white stripes a symbol of purity and
innocence. It represented freedom,
and to her, it represented her son’s tour of duty in Korea during the Korean
War. A war that thankfully
deposited him back to her without harm.
I was so proud on my first day of kindergarten when the
teacher brought us to attention to learn the Pledge, and I already knew every
single word. I whipped my hand
over my heart, stood at perfect attention, and gustily lead that pledge
word-perfect. Grandma had taught
me well.
I have made it a personal challenge to do the same for my
first graders. We do indeed say
the Pledge daily. I also demand
complete attention and single focus while doing so. There will be no jabbing of elbows or reclining against
their chairs while expressing this appreciation for our country, our military
personnel, and our Founding Fathers’ sacrifice.
About February, I added the component of singing the
National Anthem after the Pledge everyday. Folks, this was truly a stretch for this alto. As you may or may not know, our
National Anthem was written for the vocal range of a Lark. Had I been consulted about which
patriotic number we should adopt as a nation, I probably would have chosen
something written by the Commodores.
I digress…
My poor Little Darlings were not quite sure what to do with
this new addition to the morning ritual.
The words and musical score aren’t exactly Top 40 sing-able. Listening to their teacher try to nail
those notes at 8:25 a.m. after only seven cups of coffee was laughable. But I forged ahead daily regardless,
and after a week or so, they were hesitantly chiming in bravely. Our wing of the building was built in
the ‘30’s and is not in any sense sound proof. It must have sounded hilarious to hear nine straining cherub
voices and one Orangutan oddball voice trying to do justice to our national
song.
I smiled near the end of the year at the gusto that was
applied to this iconic tune. One
lad in particular sang it with such fervor that it sounded as though he were
singing it to Francis Scott Key himself.
Little hand pressed hard over his heart pumping true red, white, and
blue blood, eyes fixed on our classroom flag, and mouth wide open in patriotic
passion. These kids had the tune
and words down cold. Do they get
the meaning behind it yet? We’ll
see…
I am an unashamedly patriotic American. On this Memorial Day weekend, I place
my hand over my heart and fervently declare my allegiance to my country, the freedoms
she affords me, and most importantly, the brave men and women who purchased
those freedoms with their service and very lives.
I love you, America.
Thank you for being so good to me.
I will forevermore pledge you my allegiance. I hope to plant the warm seed of patriotism within the soul
of my young charges.
I will begin
with the Pledge.
You must do the
rest…
 |
| Ferguson Middle School |
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