Peace & Justice, Rain or Shine

Orca's Martin Luther King Day Celebration was the best yet (and not only because we seem to have finally figured out a sound system that works!). The program's varied offerings managed to hit all the right notes: honoring Dr. King and the work he did all those years ago, bringing his message home to the world we live in now, and giving us hope for the future. Just a few highlights:

Ilea Roberts's recitation from King's Letter from the Birmingham Jail, written in response to a group of white ministers who had counseled him not to try to push so fast for equal rights:

Patrick's 4th & 5th Grade Class: this presentation started out as a lovely tribute to Dr. King's anti-war stance, with individual students delivering inspiring quotes or insights, each followed by a chorus of "We Shall Overcome." But then suddenly Charis grabbed the mike and said "Wait a minute, hold everything! 'We shall overcome someday?' Someday? We have been at war almost my whole life!" -- at which point my insides flipped over -- Jesus Christ, she's right, it's been eight years.

She said it again, so it would really sink in: "We have been at war almost my whole life." Then she went on: "Dr. King said, 'Peace is not merely a distant goal that we seek, but a means by which we arrive at that goal.' We can't just hope for peace someday. We need peace now." And then everyone started chanting, "Peace NOW!"

The 6th Grade piece, entitled "Leaders of Tomorrow," choreographed by Ms. Tanisha. This started out with a single kid dancing alone on stage, to Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror" -- a song about making the world a better place by starting with yourself. One by one his classmates made their way to the stage to join him from all the corners of the room, each carrying a sign with the name of a leader they admired. Pretty soon the whole front of the room was packed with sixty kids, holding up all these names: Nelson Mandela. Rosa Parks. Michelle Obama. Paul Revere. Harriet Tubman. Jackie Robinson. And so on. With Tanisha behind them holding up a sign that read "Leaders of Today."

Then Ms. Tanisha flipped her sign over; now it read, "Leaders of Tomorrow." And one by one the kids all flipped their signs over, revealing their own names. Which they held up proudly as Josiah continued to dance... and the song finished... and all us parents wiped our eyes.

Simon's class finished things off with a rousing rendition of "Down by the Riverside," (apologies again for the crappy camera work):

And after lunch, The March.

This tradition started years ago as a reenactment of a 1960s Civil Rights march, with period signage and songs, the culmination of a kind of school-wide Civil Rights Immersion Program. It has evolved into a more contemporary event, addressing whatever pressing issues are at hand -- often in flagrant violation of School District policy on electoral neutrality. Some teachers have the kids make their signs as a serious writing assignment -- what can you say in 8 words or less that expresses a Truth you believe in enough to hoist it up high on a stick? (Try it sometime!)

Twenty minutes before we were scheduled to embark, it was still pouring. Sideways. Now, we're not fair-weather fans of Justice and Freedom by any means, but we've been around the block waving cardboard pickets enough times to know that dragging the Leaders of Tomorrow on a cold, wet slog through the neighborhood might not be the most effective way to nurture their future activism. Still, most of the kids seemed loaded for bear:






And so after some consultation and several rounds of phone calls by our friendly police escorts, it was decided that the March would proceed, on a shortened route. And of course as soon as the motorcycles started up, the rain stopped!

We had been told that Jacob Watkins was angling to carry our Earth flag (which has become something of an MLK Day staple around here) on what would be his ninth -- and last -- MLK March at Orca. When we walked out onto the playground with the blue Earth whipping around over our heads, Jacob strode forward to claim it and we handed it over with pleasure. We think you'll agree, he makes a fine Grand Marshal.

We started out on Dawson,

Headed south on 46th,

came down Brandon to Rainier Avenue,

and back up Lucile.

A few kids exclaimed about how quickly we arrived back at school, but for the most part nobody seemed too bothered by the truncated route.

We did hear an adult participant mutter, "Is this a March? It doesn't feel like a March." Which got us thinking again. Maybe it wasn't a March, in the classic, Kingly sense -- you know, where your government is persisting in some unconscionable folly or other, and after all other avenues of influence have failed, you take to the streets en masse, demanding to be heard... And when they see that you and your thousands of followers shall not be moved, the people in power finally see the Light. Or they are embarrassed into doing the right thing. Or, by arresting you and beating you and blasting you with firehoses, they bring international attention to your cause. But honestly, when was the last time you went on a March like that? Everybody's always out there waving signs these days. Unless you've got a particular target and a specific goal -- unless you're actually prepared to shut down the WTO, say -- the people in power aren't going to be swayed by this kind of thing. They might not even notice.*

It seemed like Orca did achieve the other aim of a classic March -- the part where you get your frustrated, idealistic self up off your couch and out into the street, and you look around and see all these other people who care about the same thing you do, and you're stretched out up and down the road, blocking traffic with your Truths held high, and people are honking and waving at you, and you feel a little less alone in your endless efforts to make the world live up to its promise.

And you know, Kids, sometimes you just need that, whether anyone else is listening or not.

* I guess it's not that hard to come up with a specific goal, though the target is sometimes a little nebulous -- the people in power are always pointing to someone else who's responsible for the mess we're in, or telling you why they can't take action, even though they'd love to. It occurs to me that in this day and age public demonstrations may have a third purpose: to give leaders who may already agree with us the political cover to do the right thing.

Our family didn't make it down to Olympia on Monday for the rally in support of school funding, but we hear it was a pretty good crowd -- a thousand people on the Capitol steps. In this crisis year for our state budget, with huge cuts looming and the anti-tax movement in high gear, we're going to need that kind of public pressure in support of education -- and the revenue that funds it. I don't care how burnt out or cynical you're feeling; now is the time to call, write, wave your sign. Tell the folks in Olympia: Tax us if you have to, but don't cut school funding!