Rationale
I was born and raised in New Jersey, in a relatively blue collar, sleepy suburb of New York City. A true mutt of ethnicities, my mom was a Polish American and my dad Armenian, who disembarked at Ellis Island.
My mom grew up in the Polish section of Garfield, New Jersey. She graduated from Douglas College (the separate women's college now part of Rutgers University) with a Masters in Education. She spoke fluently in four languages. Finding employment, however, was an arduous task during the Great Depression. She agreed to pay an unscrupulous judge in the early 1930's (under the table) to change her name to a more American name hoping to put an end to the ethnic slurs and the taunting as a Dumb Pollock. She became the foreign language department chair of a regional high school and finally earned the respect she once yearned for from her community and colleagues.
My father emigrated as a boy in 1915 from Armenia due to the heinous massacre and genocide from the Turks (Ottoman Empire) and was a photo engraver, a job that eventually would become obsolete. He passed a week before my 13th birthday.
My brother and I lived in a Leave it to Beaver neighborhood where it was certainly not the norm to be supported by a widowed mother on a teacher's salary. Although my mother put bread on the table, her eyes would be a daily reminder of the strain and undue pressure she was constantly faced with. My parents firmly believed that hard work and perseverance were the keys to success. My schools were all within walking distance, no cars, no buses; we used our feet and carried a sturdy umbrella. My high school was 98% white and shielded for the most part from the strife and discrimination that African Americans endured... and then, I left for college. We grew up as the activists, artists and were part of the enormous music culture that swept the nation and fueled the fires. We were the ones that fought for peace with marches, sit-ins, and rallies. I attended Woodstock and witnessed history in the making. Buses were chartered for the Moratorium March in DC opposing the draft and war in Vietnam. I vividly remember hugging a friend who was drafted and sent to Nam only to hug his parents upon his return home in a box with minimal military fanfare. We listened to Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin, Bob Dylan, John Lennon and many others. Those were turbulent times and experiences that could never be replicated again, until recently.
I began my teaching career in the inner city of Paterson, New Jersey before relocating to Richmond, Virginia - a city drenched in southern heritage, historical significance, laden with monuments to its Confederate war heroes as well as its United States' Presidents. Our students are predominantly African American with a rising Latino presence.
Like the majority of our country, I was obsessed with the 2009 election process and the issues facing our nation. I was a part, albeit a small part, of Barack Obama's grassroots movement. I volunteered at his Richmond and Chester, Virginia headquarters, canvassed neighborhoods, and entered data on the DNC computers. Enthusiasm filled the city with the anticipation of Obama's arrival. Would an African American presidential candidate in Richmond, Virginia be welcomed? On a placid crisp day, October 22, 2008, 12,900 diverse citizens coiled around the Richmond Coliseum patiently waiting to see Barack Obama and listen to his message of hope and unity:
There are no real or fake parts of this country. We are not separated by the pro- America and anti-America parts of this nation - we all love this country, no matter where we live or where we come from. There are patriots who supported this war in Iraq and patriots who opposed it; patriots who believe in Democratic policies and those who believe in Republican policies. The men and women from Virginia and all across America who serve on our battlefields may be Democrats and Republicans and Independents, but they have fought together and bled together and some died together under the same proud flag. They have not served a Red America or a Blue America - they have served the United States of America. 3
Virginia roared. There was no turning back. Change had come to Virginia. On election night November 4, 2008, Virginia turned blue for the first time since 1964. In Richmond, Virginia, the students were ready for change.
Barack Obama's message of hope and the proclamation of, "Yes We Can" inspired and woke up all generations. Once again people are tuning in and are involved in the cause. I am proud to renew a passion that I once gently placed in a suitcase on a shelf. I hope to instill that same enthusiasm within my fourth and fifth grade accelerated students as they take the journey with me on the Civil Rights Trail and explore the Brown v. Board of Education verdict of 1954.
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