My Speech

*Thanks for all the suggestions for my speech to 400 high school kids - I thought about your input and I came up with the following speech. It was very well received, I even heard the chair of the school board got choked up :)

Good morning, my name is Michael and I am in the business of dreams.  But before I talk to you about dreams and schemes and other things, I need to tell you how weird this all feels right now!  It seems like just two weeks ago I was sitting somewhere in this school listening to some old fart, I mean gentleman who was three times my age talk to me about careers and dreams, really it was thirty five years ago -so I know how you are looking at me right now.  But I need to tell you we are connected, more so than this fifty feet and thirty-five years - you and I have a lot in common, and I am told I have six to eight minutes to connect those dots to for you, and to talk a little bit about dreams. When I talk about my dreams, it is important that you know that they are no better or worse than the dreams of others - but they are perfect for me. I also need to tell you that I may not be the best role model for you, or at least that you may not want to do go about things in the same manner as did I.

Let me start in the present - I am living my dreams.  I am living them because I never caught them.  My typical year finds me working for nine months with students who are struggling when they come to college.  Their dreams lie on the other side of this experience, so it is so important to support them.  One month of my year is spent going to conferences, doing presentations, and networking with my peers to stay abreast of my field.  I then spend two months in the Middle East, working with teachers from refugee camps all over the area.  This last March I was in Jordan, and I will be in Syria this coming January.  It is a wonderful way to spend a year.  I know this might sound like the dreams of an old guy, but I love chasing them.  I haven't always been able to chase my dreams, as a matter of fact, I didn't always have them - I had to move here to Garrett before I would discover dreams.

I moved to Garrett during my sophomore year - prior to that I had attended fifteen other schools.  No, I wasn't a military brat, my family had issues, lots of serious issues.  So when I showed up for school here for the first time, I wasn't here to learn, have fun, behave, misbehave - I just wanted out of that house.  A few years ago, I came back to visit and drove by the old house.  As I drove by, I thought to myself, "that is a nice looking house."  Then driving down the street, I noticed a lot of other nice looking houses and I wondered how many of them held terrible secrets.  I suspect maybe some of you know, but I pray that you do not.

Back at school, I realized I could stay out of the house longer if I played sports, joined clubs, and worked a job or two - I was literally gone fifteen hours a day. Some nice things started to happen though, some very nice things.  Although I did nothing in my classes, my teachers were very kind and patient with me, more so than I deserved.  The students were wonderful, and I made many great friends.  I was welcomed unconditionally, and I began to feel normal for the first time in my life.  I learned how to help others as the clubs introduced me to community service, that lit a fire that is still burning within me. I learned that there were people with worse problems, and that I could help. It was a great feeling.

After a year, I began to develop a dream - we had already been in Garrett longer than any other place, and I began to dream that I could finish school and graduate here.  It was a small dream, but it was mine and it was important to me. By the fall of my senior year, I had begun to take the dream for granted, I really thought I would make it until the evening my father pulled up with a U-Haul trailer and moved us to Oklahoma over night.

It happened so quickly, I didn't have time to react.  I was enrolled in a school a few day later, and I found a job washing dishes at a local restaurant.  I stayed for a month, saved every penny and then hitch-hiked back to Indiana - remember, I may not be the best role model!

When I got back here, the Bartels signed a legal document which was very gracious and probably very foolish.  I finished the year, and barely made it to graduation.  I was 121/125 (remember,I may not be your best role model) and I was relieved that I wouldn't be last in my class - however, the other four didn't show up, I think they ran off to join the circus. I was now faced with my first decision - what to do after high school.  I had a good offer for a job as an apprentice plumber, and I also had a new dream.  I dreamt of playing football in college - I was new at this dream thing, but not too realistic.

So off I went to college and to football.  When I got there, I was shocked to know that I had to have a major other than football.  My advisor shook his head sadly and said "no son, you cannot major in football."  He then asked me what I wanted to study, and I replied "coaching."  Again, I got a sardonic smile, then he looked at me and said "you will be a high school history teacher."  I said ok, and my career was decided as quickly as that.  Well the football dream didn't last too long, but I learned my first great lessons about dreams - they can shift.  I shifted my dream to coaching, and went after it with a lot of energy.  I took a class in coaching, and when the opportunity presented itself, accepted a volunteer coaching position at a local high school.  It felt great to be chasing down my dream.

While I was working on my coaching dream, I started to be involved with the teaching aspect of my major.  The college started a new program where first year education students could volunteer in classrooms, and I signed up.  When they started a teachers club soon after, I joined that too.  I became more and more interested in the teaching, to the point that when I got to my senior year six years later (did you do the math there?  Remember, I may not be your best role model!), I had forgotten about coaching and was really into teaching.  My dream had shifted again, and it was about to slide a bit further.

During my senior year, I had met many international students, and I attended their functions and learned about their countries.  I also learned about the terrible amount of suffering around the world, and the limited resources so many people had. A new fire had been lit.  When graduation came, I had the choice between a safe teaching job here, or the option of taking off and helping the world - I went to Jamaica with the United States Peace Corps.   I got a job working in an orphanage teaching a group of young boys all subjects.  In the evening, I taught adults to read and write. It was a beautiful two years, and very humbling as I learned more about dreams. Most of the boys dreamt of living in a house and maybe being hugged.  One of my adult literacy students dreamt of being able to pick out a greeting card for his wife after twenty years.  Very humbling indeed!

When I finished my two years, my desire to work overseas was still burning bright, and I chose to go to work in Yemen.  I was assigned to work in a small village in the mountains teaching English.  But while in training, I heard about a volunteer building a school in a refugee camp for Eritreans, victims of the thirty-five year old civil war in Ethiopia.  I asked to be assigned there, and was told no, that the conditions were too harsh there and that the Ministry of Education would not allow it.  With some support, I fought with my administration and with the ministry, and eventually was assigned to the village near the refugee camp - my reward was living in a dry, dusty camp with no running water or electricity in one of the hottest places on earth - I loved it.

I helped the other volunteer finish the school, were I then taught the children of the camp ESL lessons for the next two years, and their mothers health care lessons at night.  There were dreams in that place too: The kids dreamt that they one day be allowed to return home, and on the slim chance for a future education, they hounded me to teach them as much English as possible - their mothers dreamt that the kids would survive the camp, many did not.  I learned so much about integrity there, saw so many beautiful, horrible, wonderful, and terrible things. I did not leave the same person.  I went on years later to work in other places, Tanzania, Palestine, Jordan, and London, and I never lost my love for working overseas.

Leaving Yemen, I knew I needed to go home and establish a base.  I needed to continue my education, start a family, and to begin serving people in my own country. I came back and stumbled on Developmental Education, that field that helped students make the transition to college work. As I took courses, I volunteered to teach classes to other graduate students, and I went on to make conference presentations and to do research with my professors.  I took any opportunity that came my way.  Within ten years, I had worked with many of the influential people in my field, and I had developed a good reputation for myself.  Along the way, I helped thousands of student with their dreams, and I even managed to raise two beautiful and intelligent daughters (gifts from their mom), one who is on stage with us now - my daughter Sindi.

Ten years ago, a wonderful thing happened - my two careers, international work and college work here, came together. I had developed enough flexibility to do both, creating the schedule I explained to you earlier.  So here I am, thirty five years later, full circle back at Garrett High School!

I am still chasing my dreams - you may remember me telling you I was in Jordan in the spring where I met a young woman (ony a few years older than many of you) whose dream it was to improve the education system in Syria, a very troubled and dangerous place these days.  She talked to me while I was there, and I think I am going to travel to Syria this winter to help her. I am still chasing my dreams, and sometimes, those of others.

Before I wrap up with a few challenges, I would like the members of the football team to stand up - I need to tell you guys that the last time I played against Dekalb, we beat them and I had two sacks! (it turned out that that was truly the last time they had beaten this arch rival - thirty five years before). I am challenging you to beat them tonight, I will be watching you!

Just a few more words - Remember, you are from the greatest place on earth!  This community will support you no matter what - you may stay here to chase your dreams, you may chase them elsewhere and return here, or you may leave but this place will never abandon you, I am living proof of that.  So, will you be the one who has the courage to chase your dreams?  Will you be the one to have the wisdom not to catch them too quickly, to be flexible, to follow them maybe, to seize every opportunity that arises on the way?  And if you are very blessed, will you be the one who chases a dream that overlaps with those of others?  I hope so.  I wish you a bold and adventurous future.  Thank you.

Drinking Dreams

I had my first drink when I was eleven or twelve, the day my step-father fed me gin for the amusement of his friends. I took my last twenty-two years later, the night my uncle and I met and talked about my mother's death, and I got a DUI on my way home. I shudder to think about all those drinks in between, and the damage they caused with my blessing. On that last night, I wasn't falling down drunk, as a matter of fact, the police made me blow into the breathalyzer three times to get the right level. Still, I had had too many, I shouldn't have been driving. I gave up alcohol that next morning, not because of the legal ramifications, but because I had an opportunity to break a terrible cycle before it could corrupt my daughters. My oldest daughter was just over a year, and my wife was pregnant with our second. I stopped because I never wanted either of them to see me drinking, to see me drunk. I haven't had a drop since, eighteen and a half years. I have not been a good father, but I did not pass on that curse.
Many people think I don't drink because of my faith - my conversion did not happen for many years after that fateful night when I was pulled over for driving too slowly. I didn't quit for a faith, but my faith makes so much sense to me, particularly as it knows the evils of alcohol, and created no imaginative rationalizations to condone it. I remember reading something attributed to the Prophet akin to "don't indulge in activities that have minor merits and terrible potential, it makes no sense." To this day, I cannot understand the vehement defense of this modern plague, killer of millions, destroyer of families, abater of conscience. All for some fermented juice that has long outlived its purpose, given that we can now store liquids safely without preserving them.
But this blog is about dreams, not about a social ill.
Since I gave up booze, it has visited me frequently in my dreams. Not constantly, but often enough for my taste (no pun intended). For years, the dream was the same - I would be somewhere and I would be tempted with beer or whiskey. I knew I was not to be tempted, but I always succumbed, and the experience slid to a nightmare. I would wake up in a sweat, initially disoriented then ever so grateful as I realized I was not drunk. It would be a tremendous relief, but I always emerged shaken. I had no waking urge to drink, but something was there, deep down trying to claw its way to the surface, trying to kill me.
Through the years, I was never really tempted to take a drink, but I missed its function. When I was low or depressed, I knew it would give me a temporary reprieve, despite the promise of a dark aftermath. I knew others would often be uncomfortable around me, as my sobriety indicted their revelry. My life changed slowly, as did my affiliations and my haunts. I had to learn to interact with the world without alcohol. Not as simple as it might seem. To be fair though, there were many friends and family who were very supportive.
My dreams changed abruptly after I converted five years ago. I continued to have the odd dream about alcohol, but I never again relented to the temptation to consume it. This may sound inconsequential to many, but it is very powerful to me. My strength, my convictions now pervade my consciousness, my inner core. The dreams are different, and I don't wake in a panic. I awake with the same resolve and quiet that I had when I refused the drink in the dream. It is no longer a portent of weakness or future failure, it is a testament to my faith, my God comforting me even in my darkest, most private places.
I don't lecture others about drinking, and I don't have to worry about leaving that kind of legacy with my daughters. I do continue to lament the fact that so many, even those touched foully by its embrace, consider the right to drink as almost sacred or as a human covenant with the same reverence as our freedoms of speech and religion. I only know that I will never drink again, awake or in my sleep. Alhamdulilah.