Here's to 235, For Life!

I try to do something valuable with every one of the 180 days I have with my classes, including the very last one. I am fortunate in being able to exempt my students from final exams in June because they have taken the stressful and rigorous AP exam in May.  This year, in my AP Lang class I used an activity borrowed from the work of Dave Stuart called Pop-up Toasts. This activity allowed for a good period of reflection, some public speaking practice, and a nice wrap up for the year. More on the details of the day in another post.

This was my toast to the year:

Yesterday I stopped at Costco in Brick to get cookies, and strawberries for Renee, so that we could break bread together today. If you are familiar with the Costco parking lot, you know that venturing from car to entrance is a little like playing Frogger, and being the frog. You have to dodge and dart your way across the screen trying to avoid being squished by a truck, or an alligator, barreling along and paying no mind to pedestrians, or frogs, that might be in the vicinity.

I noticed after my 3rd or 4th dodge/dart combo that none of the drivers who passed actually looked around them. It was as if they didn’t even see anybody nearby, and that if they didn’t see anybody, didn’t make the slightest human contact - a nod, a wave, - then the people in their proximity circle just didn’t exist. And I tried to send them the thought that we would both have a better time in this parking lot tango if you would just look at me.

And then I remembered Umuntu.

Specifically Umuntu ngumuntu nagabantu.   

The English translation of this Zulu phrase is “A person is a person because of other people.”

I came across this South African colloquialism a few years ago, and while I am not entirely sure the translation I found is accurate, the idea changed how I view even passing interactions with people, and definitely how I look at what we do in here.

If you and I passed each other in the hallway, or crossed paths in a Wawa parking lot, the expected greeting would probably be a simple hello, or what’s up, or what’s good? One of those polite, deceptively simple toss-off phrases that actually help keep our civilization civilized.  Among some African people the exchange would be different. The first person to speak would say “Sawu bona.” That means, “I see you.” The second person responds with Sikona, meaning “I am here.” At first I thought this was a bit silly, but the order of exchange is very important. It implies that until you see me, I do not exist. Initially it called to mind the hackneyed question “If a tree falls in the woods and there is no one there to hear it, does it make a noise?” Of course it makes a noise. The rules of physics govern that. Of course I exist, even when you aren’t looking.

But it goes much deeper. It is when we see and acknowledge each other that our existence means something beyond the boundaries of our own psyches.  Whether we like to acknowledge it or not, we are all in this world together, and we are dependent on and responsible for each other as we make our way through the world.

I see you. I have seen you since the day we all stepped in here together. I see your fears and your bravery, your questions and your answers, your use-to-bes and your becomings. I see you with eyes full of gratitude that you are willing every day to come in here and see each other as being in this experience together, friends or not. To know each other’s names. To celebrate each other’s strengths and support each other’s weak spots. To recognize each other’s beliefs while you remain faithful to your own. My heart is filled every day by your willingness to see and to allow yourself the vulnerability of being seen. And to see me too, quirks and craziness and all.

Thank you for an excellent year. I have learned a lot. Some of you will be back in here next year, and others will not. Either way, I think of this as a sort of lifetime commitment.

Here’s to 235 for life.