In Mrs. Sterner’s seventh grade social studies class, the students recently divided into groups for a friendly competition on American civics and history.
They also were asked to ascribe titles to their teams.
Say what you’d like about the current crop of upcoming youth, they’ve certainly maintained their sense of humor through these volatile times. My two favorite responses were “The Clorox Wipes” and “The Disinfected.” Perfect reflections of our disenchanted, post-COVID lives.
Still, attempting to fathom north from south, “geography” seemed to become the category of choice among classmates. What are the two longest rivers in the continental U.S.? Can you recall two states that border Canada? What ocean cradles the eastern seacoast? A relative piece of cake.
Following “geography,” “symbols” and “holidays” were the next and most preferred lines of questioning. Name four national holidays. Why does our flag have 13 stripes? What is the name of our national anthem? Still, only when they were given no other choice, did they get down to the brass tacks of governance and official code - legislative history, Constitutional concepts, judicial imperatives. All the stuff that makes most seventh graders squirm in their seats. And strangely, all the same stuff that most adult Americans also seem to avoid at all costs.
I mean, as long as I have a generally misinformed understanding of my basic rights, the rest can wait. I’ve got things to attend to - high school graduations, my kid’s Little League game, overtime hours at work, dirty laundry and stacked dishes. I’m free, so what’s the point?
In all honesty, I get it. I’d much rather be kayaking the river with friends or planting apple trees in the garden. The eager obscurities of the “small print” tend to get lost in the weeds. And in a more perfect union, perhaps they should.
Listening to the spate of middling middle school responses, I was reminded of a speech I recently heard on the Youtube channel, given by the actor Tom Hanks. He delivered the commencement speech this past month to the graduating class of Harvard University. Cynicism aside, I’m not quite sure why he would choose to give such an empowering speech to the chosen university of the wealth class. But I digress.
Despite a deluge of comic relief, he also touched on the simple principles that have forged our national character (I often wonder what that is) and Constitution, and the historic difficulties we have encountered (or empowered) along the way.
Still, the story he kept returning to was a small anecdote from the life of the late actor and iconoclast, Marlon Brando. He had once talked to Brando who had, during the course of the conversation, divulged the fact when he had registered for the draft, instead of checking the assigned box that notified his race, he had simply chosen to write in “human.” Hanks had never forgotten that. He attached much of our current misery to the simple fact “human equality” continues to be our least understood and most under-represented constitutional right. An American dictum that continues to wither on the branch, give or take its angry inch.
Sitting in class, I began to wonder what title the seventh graders might assign our current national team? I would have to go with “The Unrealized.” What do you think?
Paul Wheeler grew up in suburban Chicago and traveled much of the United States before settling in Ottawa, and now Streator. He writes about a variety of topics including art, writers, politics, history, education and environmental issues. He can be reached at newsroom@mywebtimes.com.