Today, I’m happy to be American, and I’m proud of my President and his words.

That’s still a new feeling, for me; until recently, it had been a long time.  Today, I have a crush on President Obama not only because he can speak beautifully, but because he’s willing to (in Rachel Maddow’s words) “grab the third rail” and discuss the hard stuff.   To cut through the layers of pseudo-patriotic pseudo-rhetoric, to cut through what may be priggish hand-to-mouth shock by some on all sides, to cut through the supposed necessity of euphemism, and carefully expose the chewy center.

And God, it’s refreshing.

It’s about time someone on top realized that there’s great–massive–strength in admitting to errors in judgement, mistakes in handling.  Anything else leads to mistrust and no respect.  Ask any teacher: those of us in the profession who refuse to admit to marking a paper wrong, or who can’t own up to not knowing something or misspeaking something, will immediately lose the kids’ respect.

As well we should.

For a country such as ours who, we keep making schoolchildren repeat, is a government of the people, by the people, and for the people, we sure have done a fabulous job of forgetting that we are, indeed, just *people*…and humanity is the same everywhere.  People screw up.  People choose badly.

And, at times, people choose wisely, and bravely, and with great sacrifice.

And all sides–ALL SIDES–have all of these people.  All of the time.

Namaste.

There are no sides to any of the mess involving the U.S., Israel, and the Arab world that are able to show clean hands.  None.  And the quicker we get over that hurdle of posturing that we can (or someone else can), the quicker we can actually get down to finding solutions.  Critics are right to point out that Obama’s Cairo speech yesterday didn’t offer solutions; however, to that, I would say (speaking as a teacher) “We cannot do the assignment until we’ve studied concepts.”

I do not go to my class, without any preparation in formulating a persuasive speech, say they’ll be delivering speeches the next day.  We discuss what makes a good speech; how to organize, research, cite; appeals, conventions.

I’m reading a collection of essays right now that has been restoring my faith in humanity.  It is The Impossible Will Take a Little While: A Citizen’s Guide to Hope in a Time of Fear, edited by Paul Rogat Loeb (author of Soul of a Citizen).  This collection is moving me, making me cry, making me laugh, making me gasp in joy and…hope.  Yesterday, I read both Starhawk’s “Next Year in Mas’Ha” and Amos Oz’s “The Gruntwork of Peace.” Both essays deal with the Israel-Palestinian conflict, on the surface.  Both are beautifully and hauntingly, passionately, written.  Both recognize humanity on all sides.  They take, on the surface, different sides on the Conflict, but “sides” is far too precise a word, here.  The reason these essays, while retaining their points of view and passion and arguments, are moving is because they recognize the light in the other side as they do their own.  They look at the face across the concrete barrier and see someone human, someone with the same desires and dreams.

Namaste.

We cannot move forward–in the U.S., in the Gaza Strip, in Iran, in Saudi Arabia, in Iraq, heck, in China, in North Korea–until those who have the power realize that our words matter, our posturing matters, and schoolyard bully self-aggrandizement only makes us look silly and adolescent.

Our leaders need to grab the third rail–need to address the hard truths, not just the pretty patriotic-sounding ones–and stop dancing around the olive tree.  Adults, and adult psyches, should be able to differentiate between Al Quaeda terrorists and a Muslim family in Riyadh, or Gaza, or Detroit, just as adult psyches should be able to differentiate between Christian assassins in Kansas and a Christian family in Topeka, or Chicago, or Italy.

We need to start thinking in nuances and truth, and that’s what I heard yesterday.  I saw great strength yesterday.  My President spoke for me, yesterday.

I am proud to be American, today, and I am hopeful that perhaps–just perhaps–with time, honor, dignity, and a lot of growing up–we all might just fix a few things.

Thank you, Mr. President, for allowing me to have a crush on you today and the beginnings of what might just be a love affair with my country again.