Touching Base - History Lessons Part II

Unfortunately, this is the article I wrote upon returning....

Touching Base

I have just returned from a two-week trip to London, where I was visiting an Islamic school in the wake of the subway bombings. The lessons I learned there were simple and vivid, as they always are whenever I leave the U.S. Typically, the experience was far from what I expected, yet consistent with my earlier experiences overseas. It seems that I learn a great deal when I travel, only to have the benefits of those lessons ebb away gradually once I return.
Having taught for two years in a small village in Yemen, I thought I knew what to expect from this Saudi Arabian school. Once I got there, however, I found many things that surprised me. I should mention, by the way, that whenever something surprises me, I have found it to be that I was working from some sort of incorrect bias. So when I was surprised that the teachers worked so well together, were open-minded and ready to learn, seemed to be very concerned with the welfare of each other and their students, and that the Muslim women were very open and progressive, I was saddened by my reaction. At this phase in my life, I thought that I had moved past the biases and stereotypes that created this surprise.
At the London school, I worked with Arab, European, Christian, and Muslim teachers from more than twenty countries. I was struck immediately by how important culture, religion, and ethnicity were to these people, and by how little those concepts impeded their work together. There was a tremendous amount of respect and acceptance that surrounded the environment, despite the fact that they weren’t always in agreement. But I had known these things before – what had happened in the past fifteen years that made me forget these lessons? Why was I surprised?
My first inclination was to blame the society I live in. Maybe the U.S.A. is just anti-Arab, and the incessant, subtle images of the media have an inescapable, inculcating effect. Even my most liberal friends, who are pro-Arab in many ways, condemn what they see as the oppression of women in the Middle East. It seems that good news regarding Islam and the Arab world is hard to find. But this is not a satisfactory explanation. After all, I thought I had freed myself from that bias, transcended that mentality.
Perhaps it is me. Perhaps there is an ugliness inside of me that wants to limit the capacity and humanity of others. It might be that it is just plain easier to expect less, to be surprised by decency. If so, how many other groups do I internally demean? But, once again, I thought I had evolved past this kind of influence.
So what is it? I am not sure, and that frightens me. It seems that I have to keep renewing these lessons, because obviously, I am bound to lose them if I don’t live them. This renewal of mine might be what a Christian would call the “Good Fight” or a Muslim a “Jihad” (the effort to remove obstacles that stand between humanity and God). Maybe it’s enough to recognize my susceptibility and to battle it unapologetically. I do know that I am bone-weary of these surprises.

An American Accident

I was walking out in the school playground of an Islamic School I worked at in London, checking on the girls playing there. They were running around frantically, having a wonderful time. I chatted with some of the teachers supervising the free-for-all, and was enjoying a few moments out of my office. I appreciated the fact that I was being ignored (one of my first great lessons - being ignored is not always bad) by most of the kids when a smiling second grader shyly approached me. She looked at me earnestly and I said hello, to which she replied "Are you an American Accident?" Now the instant she said it, I knew what she meant (do you have an American accent?), but the irony didn't escape me. I replied "Probably so" and smiled and walked off. She skipped away towards her friends who now considered her the bravest young woman on the planet, and I walked away with the title of my autobiography. Not a bad few seconds of interchange!
For the rest of the week, I thought about being an accident in an American society that is so diverse, so accommodating, and so eclectic that "accidents" are almost impossible. But I am an accident - I am not here where I am by any master plan, as a matter of fact, I am probably here against most reasonable odds. So, taking a page from Kierkegaard, "You live life forward and understand it backwards", I began to look back hoping desperately to gain some sense in order to direct my future. That was three years ago and I am still working on it. I am getting a better handle on my etiology, but the praxis (positive action through guided reflection) still often eludes me. The conclusion of my journey through time is that I have emerged from a pretty unique culture (code for highly dysfunctional childhood) with a good intelligence and other impressive skills, yet also with the stunning capacity to undermine myself, often dancing perilously close to to the precipice I thought I had escaped. But this is the year - 50 years old and candidate for Philosopher King. I am going to press on and learn and retain the lessons I have forgotten or failed to understand. I am going to be a leader who can change the world for the better.