“Memory,’ wrote the Lebanese novelist Elias Khoury, is a process of organizing what to forget.”
― The Way to the Spring: Life and Death in Palestine
Today is the last day of classes for Metro Nashville Public Schools. As I sit here and craft my latest missive, I am uplifted by the sounds of my youngest’s chortles wafting through his bedroom door. His teachers are throwing a pajama party this morning for all of the children who completed their assigned work. To earn the reward, he worked especially hard this week – frequently checking and rechecking to make sure everything was completed. As a result, his morning holds promises of quizzes, jokes with classmates, and prizes. A grand time for all.
My daughter has a book club meeting later today, in which they’ll discuss several recently read titles. She enjoys the time spent with her classmates and teacher. Along with her brother, she has spent the last couple of days, checking and re-checking work to ensure that everything is completed. Back in mid-October, she struggled for a bit, but found her mojo and has since re-applied herself, mostly making up lost ground. She’ll still only earn a “C” in Social Studies, due to her earlier transgressions. Not the expected grade, but the one she earned and one that comes with its own lessons. It’s safe to say that she has learned as much from that “C” as any “A” she ever got
Meanwhile, out in the world, there continues to be a steady drumbeat for the narrative that the CONTINUE READING: ITS ALL IN THE PERSPECTIVE – Dad Gone Wild
