This past week at school, a colleague of mine asked me if I was bothered by a student in his homeroom who questioned why we said the "Pledge of Allegiance." The student quipped,"When you say it every day, it doesn't really mean anything." I immediately responded, "Yes," which is ironic, given that in my thirteen years of schooling, I never once said the "Pledge of Allegiance." The average public school student theoretically recites this pledge over 2,300 times during his or her thirteen years in the system. But being raised a Jehovah's Witness, I never participated in this daily ritual because I could not pledge allegiance to any government aside from one established by God. In grade school, on the first day of school, I would sheepishly sidle up to the teacher's front desk with my first day of school paperwork along with a handwritten note from my mom explaining our religious convictions and thanking the teacher for her anticipated cooperation. While most public schools expect students to recite the pledge every morning, the Supreme Court ruled that no student is required nor can be punished for not saying the pledge. Each morning at school, I would politely stand, hands by my side, as my classmates recited the pledge. As a child I was incredibly shy and obedient, and drawing attention to myself on the first day of school to break a "rule" was mortifying. When I entered fifth grade, my parents didn't write me a note but rather told me to proudly share my convictions with my teacher, Miss Brown, who routinely wore army fatigues to school. I can only imagine what she thought as I told her I wouldn't be reciting the pledge. As I matriculated from grade to grade, my abstinence from this morning routine became less and less noteworthy as my own classmates' enthusiasm for reciting the pledge waned. By my senior year of high school, my classmates' ennui for the pledge was palpable. After graduating high school, I knew I would never be placed in this awkward position again. Until I decided to become a teacher. When I did my student teaching, I informed my homeroom students they were required to say the pledge, but I would be refraining from doing so because of my religious beliefs. My students looked at me in confusion, but fortunately, they had already been exposed to the hypocrisy of their parents and other teachers and agreed to "do as I say, not as I do." Every morning, I prompted them with a nod of my head to stand for the pledge while I stood respectfully, hands by my side.
On my first day as a "real" teacher, a student announced over the PA system to stand for the pledge at 7:35. I stood with my students, placed my hand over my heart, and recited the words in a loud clear voice. Seeing I had listened to the words over 2,300 times, I had no trouble keeping up. Was it a life-changing moment? Not really. I did feel a little relieved. After thirteen plus years of having a spotlight on you every time those words were uttered, it took some time to overcome the Pavlovian response of my stomach churning with nerves. My first principal at that particular school felt strongly about students respecting the flag and the pledge. I remember being told to stop any student in the hallway to promote a sense of respect. We wanted the student body to respect their country and the opportunities afforded them by that country, namely the guarantee of a free education, but how introspective are teenagers at 7:35am?
One morning I do recall reciting the pledge was Wednesday, September 12, 2001. After watching the second airplane hit the World Trade Center on live TV with my eleventh graders the day before, I remember the heaviness in the air and my heart. As we stood and recited the pledge and paused for a longer moment of silence, I remember the co-mingling of sadness, fear, and anger. As we stood in solidarity, I reminded my students the best way to counter these attacks was to go about our routines and not allow the terrorists to instill us with terror.
Do I reflect as I say the pledge every morning? Many a morning I am caught off guard in the middle of my frenzied, frazzled dash to get ready for the school day as we are asked to rise. Nevertheless, I try to set a good example by enthusiastically reciting the pledge while my students shuffle to their feet and half-hardheartedly recite the words. Some mornings I do think about the people who enable me to stand in that classroom. As I look at the flag, I consider my brother-in-law who has spent the past two decades in the Air Force, former students of mine who serve their country, and countless other individuals who would promptly protect our freedom, our liberty. Some mornings I ponder my grandfather, a straight A student who had to drop out of high school to help support his younger siblings, a relatively common injustice during his lifetime. I like to think that no student, straight A or not, would have to give up schooling without a fight today. I ponder the Life Skills students in our building who fifty years ago would have been denied an education and most likely institutionalized. I'm fortunate to have one such student in my homeroom. As we reviewed his spelling list on Friday morning, he told me he was going to fail his quiz with a glimmer in his eye. I quizzed him on all twenty words, he spelled all twenty correctly, and we both beamed with pride.
I contemplate the greatness of a country that aspires for liberty and justice for all. We are given the liberty to believe whatever we want, and in our schools, we encourage our students to be free thinkers. I recently just finished reading and discussing "The Flight of Icarus" with my seventh grade students. We considered the moral Greek children were to take away from the story--always listen to one's elders and respect the gods. They all nodded their heads at this sage advice. The next day, we then discussed a poem about Icarus which suggests he rightfully tested the boundaries, pushed himself to his limits, overcame ignorance, and, yes, plummeted to his death. How could his father Daedalus have given him wings to fly and then tell him not use them? My students smiled and nodded as they contemplated the idea of pushing themselves to their limits and "breaking the rules" when they saw injustice.
In eighth grade, I remember reading The Diary of Anne Frank and contemplating how fortunate I was to live in a country that granted freedom of religion. Jehovah's Witnesses were targeted by the Nazis during World War II and nearly 1,500 Jehovah's Witnesses died in concentration camps or were executed. They could have simply signed a paper renouncing their faith to escape this fate, but for many, their beliefs were more important than their liberty. While I may no longer share those religious convictions, I recognize the importance of respecting and protecting people's beliefs.
In an attempt to heal a nation torn apart by a Civil War, Abraham Lincoln gave one of the shortest and most powerful speeches at Gettysburg to unite a country and grant liberty to people who had been enslaved. He famously uttered our country is a government "of the people, by the people, for the people" and as I "pledge allegiance" every morning to that country, I like to think I am making a pledge to myself to foster liberty and freedom in my students. Encouraging them to not only be free thinkers but consider the responsibility and respect implied with that freedom. While they may not consciously think about the meaning of the pledge the 2,300 times they say it, just like they don't think about breathing in and out 23,000 times over the course of the day, I hope at least once they pause to consider how fortunate they are to not only be alive but more importantly free.
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