Category: politics

Reflect and Grow

Featured ~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Hey, 2026,

It’s been a minute since we’ve spoken. I know that first conversation we had might have felt a little off-putting. I’ll admit that I was coming in defensively and demanding a lot. The last few years have been quite difficult, after all. I circled back a week later, and acknowledged the fact that while I can’t control what you bring, I do have control over my responses to you. Now, a month into your tenure, I’m feeling the need for a check-in. I’ve got some feedback on how it’s going — some affirmations, for sure, but also some areas where we’d hope to see some growth moving forward.

We can start with the snow day count — well done! This performance has exceeded my expectations. Although extreme weather could be a sign of irreversible climate change, I did welcome the days to be at home, to rest a little, and to get caught up on some work.

Speaking of work, I’ve been pushing pretty hard, as you know, because I’ve been covering a teacher vacancy, but I’ve got to hand it to you — not only did you allow me to step back into the classroom to support our juniors in the run up to the SAT, you came through with another certified English Language Arts teacher who even has experience in our cultural context. You somehow provided this teacher, who will start with our sophomores on Monday, before the end of January, just as I requested. Hopefully, he will bring some normalcy to our students for the remainder of the year.

Now that I’ve started with some kudos, I must acknowledge that all has not been rosy. You did bring my family another loss — we’ve had one a year for the last three years. Granted, my sweet aunt was 96 and ready to go, but her passing still hurt.

However, that sting was much more bearable than the shock and horror at the deaths of Renee Good and Alex Pretti. It seems unconscionable that regular citizens acting out of care and concern for the foreigner and the stranger would lose their lives at the hands of government agents.

And speaking of unconscionable, I thought we’d seen all the presidential misconduct we’d ever need, but you managed to give us some more — directly from the Oval Office, again! — racist images of former world leaders distributed by the now-more-than-embarrassing leader of the free world. During the opening week of Black History Month, to boot.

Now lest I get busy casting stones without acknowledging my own shortcomings, I will admit that, I, too, have had less than stellar moments in recent days. I have forgotten my training, lost my center, and acted out of character, and not just in the confines of my own home, but in the space where I hope to have the most impact — the classroom. I showed my students a frustrated, tired, unprofessional side of me, and I’m not proud of that. So, I had to put down my shaking fist for a moment — I had to stop blaming you, 2026. I had to stop looking at the failures of ICE, Republican leaders, and even my students, who I briefly tried to blame for my poor behavior.

Look, all of us have good moments and bad moments. We are imperfect humans. I’ve had to remind myself of that this weekend when I’ve found myself bloodied by self-flagellation. None of us meets every moment with grace and maturity. The best we can do — the most we can hope for from others — is best intention, self-reflection, the admission of failure, and a commitment to do better.

What would it look like if those entrusted with making sure that all folks from other countries followed the laws for living in the United States did so with hospitality. What if their intention was to support those who legally entered our country as they navigate their adjustment to the way we do things around here. What if they participated in regular debriefing that honestly evaluated their practices, acknowledged shortcomings, and worked to improve the process in ways that positively benefitted the community?

What would happen if at their worst moments — when, say, a civilian was killed — they would admit their wrongdoing and follow the steps of accountability and restoration? What if those worst moments propelled them to changes that produced some of the best moments?

What might happen if people in positions of power didn’t demonize those who think, look, act differently, but instead worked with intention to find understanding, common ground, ways of living together in unity, despite our differences? What if we had regular community forums to instead celebrate those differences, to find solutions to problems, and to build strong relationships?

What impact might it have if a middle aged white woman went into her classroom on Monday, admitted to a roomful of teenaged students of color that she lost her shit on Friday and that it wasn’t, as she might’ve suggested, their fault, but hers. What if she used her admission of culpability to build a culture of error in that classroom — where students, too, can admit that they have been wrong, and where they can shed their shame through vulnerability, and be brave enough to try again?

What impact might it have if, instead of waving our fists at everyone else, we opened our hands and asked for forgiveness for the things we, ourselves, have done wrong? How might that change what happens this year?

Right now in Italy, young people from all over the globe are coming together in the spirit of sportsmanship to compete in the snow and on the ice. They have worked hard for years to make it to the Olympic Games and we are inspired by not only their athleticism, but their tenacity, their sacrifice, their willingness to set other things aside for this one goal — the highest level of competition with other humans from all around the world. For sixteen days we will watch people of different races, faiths, and backgrounds share space — racing side by side, watching one another’s efforts, and even congratulating those who bested them. It’s a picture of shared struggle, shared victory, shared humanity.

We can learn from them, can’t we, 2026? Can’t we learn to exist side by side with people who are very different from ourselves — can’t we find ways of working together, of inspiring one another, of celebrating together? Can we respect the humanity in front of us, even if we haven’t made it to the Olympics?

Let’s try for more of that, shall we? I know we’ve got it in us.

if it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Romans 12:18

Hold on…

Featured ~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

I am not sure I made my expectations clear. When I wrote my letter to 2026 last week, I thought I spelled out the fact that I was looking for something different than years past — something better — but perhaps I was not specific enough.

When I asked for no falls, no cancer or chronic illness diagnoses, I guess I should have specified that aging family members experiencing strokes was also off the table. Maybe when I asked for grace for those who are already suffering, I should’ve included a request that they have access to the meds and the care that they need.

Now, I will acknowledge that while I haven’t received the snow (or snow day) that would’ve been not only acceptable but welcome, I was not disappointed in the unseasonably warm temps we experienced this past week.

However, my staffing vacancy has not been resolved unless you count the fact that I am — while also attending to my myriad other responsibilities — cleaning up the former teacher’s grade book, giving assignments, communicating with students, and preparing for the more formal transition when we will indeed have a highly qualified replacement, before the end of January, even. However, I probably should have made it clear that I was thinking that replacement wouldn’t have the exact same name and birthdate as me.

And, when I asked for sanity in the political realm, perhaps I should have started by defining some terms. By sanity, I mean “reasonable and sensible behavior or thinking.” Since all of the words in that definition are abstract let me provide a concrete example. A reasonable way to arrest an unarmed protestor who is driving a car is perhaps to, I don’t know, aim your gun at their tires to stop them rather than, say, at their head. And perhaps a way to stay out of wars is to speak respectably to the leaders of other nations, inviting them to civil conversations, and not, say, threatening to “do it the hard way.”

I was encouraged by crowds gathering in Minneapolis, Minnesota to mourn the loss of life of a civilian who was committing no crimes and then almost immediately discouraged by a subsequent shooting of similarly innocent civilians in Portland, Oregon.

This violence stems, of course, from racist and xenophobic rhetoric (which I also asked for an end to) that comes straight out of the Oval Office, where the president has, for example, called Somalian immigrants “garbage” and has said that ICE agents, those responsible for these and nine other shootings since September, “acted in self-defense,” which you’d be hard pressed to agree with if you examined the collection of videos that have been compiled.

All of this can be downright discouraging less than two weeks into a year that many of us were hoping would be different — and by that I mean the good kind of different, not the insane kind of different.

Ugh! I can’t stay in this angry space for the whole year! I can’t keep seeing headlines, shaking my head, and sputtering!. Instead, I am going to willfully point out some bright spots from the past seven days so that I can keep myself grounded in hope, in the belief in human decency and resiliency. For that, I have to turn my eyes away from national headlines and take a look at the spaces where I spend most of my time.

I will start by sharing the fact that I work with an amazing staff — there is some kind of magic that brings a team together to work in an under-resourced environment serving students who are significantly below grade level. Every person on the team wants to be there — and, we quickly (as you’ve seen) weed out those who are not on board. Because of that, staff meetings are often enjoyable, even fun — a gathering of like-minded folks who want to be together, who support and celebrate one another.

Next, I must mention our resilient students. All of our 10th and 11th grade students had a substitute science teacher for about eight weeks this fall. This same group — which now has a very capable science teacher who has quickly re-established a culture of learning — this very same group of students just found out that they no longer have an English Language Arts teacher, at least temporarily, and how did they respond? They listened to the administrator who delivered the news, they gathered evidence of assignments they had completed, they cooperated with school staff, and they opted in to the temporary plan, and trusted those who said a permanent plan was on the way.

Some of these same students and others — the athletes in our building — worked with the athletic director this week to hand deliver printed invitations to the Friday night basketball game to school staff members. Not only that — the following day they delivered team jerseys to each staff member, took photos with them, and invited them to wear the jersey to the game.

The hype continued to build throughout the week, and many staff wore the jerseys to school and showed up on a Friday at 5:30, after a very long week, to cheer on their students, first at the ladies’ game and then the men’s game. The AD and students had created a VIP section decorated with photos of every staff member in the building posing with a student. Colleagues chatted and laughed together as they watched the games, cheering loudly for every steal, every change in possession, every landed shot, and especially that one sweet moment when a 6’5″ senior who we’ve all watched grow up from a timid impulsive freshmen to the guy who waited for just the opportunity, saw his moment, and slam-dunked like a pro! The crowed (especially the VIP section) went wild!!

Throughout the evening, students boldly grabbed the mic to shout out their teachers, and then, between the games, the whole group — athletes and staff — took to the floor for a photo op. Smiles everywhere!

It’s still January. Nothing has really changed, but all is not tragic.

In a small building on the border of Detroit and Dearborn is a little community that is somehow choosing to keep going. Communities like this exist everywhere, despite corruption, despite tragedy, despite illness, despite loss. Folks who would have every reason to throw their hands in the air and say, “that’s a wrap” are getting out of bed, combing their hair, and showing up for another day, and sometimes, that day, against all odds, turns into a celebration. Even now. Even in places like Minneapolis and Portland.

No matter how politely we ask, we have little control over what 2026 brings, however, we can choose to search out these spaces and these moments. We must, also, call out corruption, gather to protest, and work for the change we wish to see in the world; in order to do all that, we’ve got to hold on to hope.

I am confident that I will see the goodness of God in the land of the living. Psalm 27:13

Dear 2026,

Featured ~ Kristin ~ 2 Comments

I realize we are just getting to know one another, and perhaps this is too soon, but seeing as we are going to spend the next twelve months together, I wanted to make my expectations and non-negotiables clear. (It’s something I’m working on.) You see, the last few years have been a little unkind, and I want to be clear from the jump that I’m looking for something different.

Now, you may be coming to this relationship innocently — full of promise and potential — but I’ve heard similar claims before. Fool me once and all that…I don’t want to judge you on my past experiences but, look, if we don’t learn the lessons of history, we are bound to repeat them, am I right?

So let me state it plainly, I will be tolerating no January falls that injure the elders in my life. No new cancer diagnoses are welcome. In fact, make that no new chronic illness diagnoses either. And for those in our lives who are already suffering, let’s agree on a little grace — a little compassion — you know what I mean?

I don’t mind, particularly, if you want to bring a significant snowfall to kick off our time together. I mean, what’s six to eight inches of snow and a school cancellation between you and me? In fact, it could set us off on the right foot together.

I did hear a rumor that you have already provided me with a staff vacancy to work through — so thanks for that. I am willing to overlook this offense if you quickly provide a highly qualified replacement who has a passion for my students. Bonus points if that happens inside of January and if they come with loads of experience. But let’s have no more teachers walking away from their positions before the end of the school year. Got it?

Now, what you could provide is some sanity in the political realm. I’m not picky; it just might be nice to have leaders held to the same levels of accountability as average folks. Also, a return to the constitutional balance of powers might be nice — you know where Congress has to approve things before the president takes sweeping action or where the Supreme Court holds him accountable when he doesn’t. That type of thing. I’m not crazy enough to hold out for indictments against the president that lead to conviction — I mean we’ve seen how that plays out. I’m trying to keep things realistic here.

What I’m not looking for is more innocent civilians, minding their own business and committing no crimes, being targeted by federal agencies. I’m not looking for racist or hate-filled language from government leaders or the policies that are birthed from such rhetoric. Instead, what I am looking for is the people in positions of power to stand up and do something. I honestly don’t even care how they protest, as long as it looks like elected and appointed officials are not just serving to prop up a very corrupt enterprise. You want to get in good with me? Inspire some justice, some equity, some good old fashioned civil disobedience.

I’m not expecting miracles — just movement. A movement toward policies that benefit the poor, the voiceless, the helpless, the disenfranchised. I’m looking for some legislative moves that benefit those who don’t make six- or seven- or 10-digit salaries, that help those who aren’t necessarily white, that benefit women, and children, for heaven’s sake.

These asks have grown to sound audacious in recent years. I am begging you to provide a different climate — a climate where all voices can be heard, where all bodies are safe, where all children are fed.

I realize I’m coming in kind of pointy here, but if you scroll back through the timelines of the last few years, you may begin to understand how insane it has been. I’m just trying to find some days, weeks, and months that hold some hope.

Hope for healed relationships, hope for improved health, hope for immigrants, for the poor, for the LGBTQ community, for the aging, for my students.

Wouldn’t you like to be different, innovative, dare I say transformational? Imagine what people might say about a year that turned the tables, changed the course, began a new era? A year without gun violence, without scandal, without sexual crime, without devastating fire or flood or war?

I do recognize that you can’t do this on your own. We can’t expect a new year to waltz in here and create all this change by itself. You’ll need partners who are willing to think differently and act differently. You’ll need folks to put in some effort, not to just shrug their shoulders muttering, “well this sucks, doesn’t it?” You’ll need people to envision the possibilities and then work toward them. You’ll need us to believe in One who makes all things new — even when we’ve stopped believing, perhaps because we’ve stopped believing.

So here I am, 2026. I am taking a step of faith, believing that you might be different from the ones who have come before you. I’m committing to doing my part to be the change I want to see in this world. I am trusting not in you — come on, I wasn’t born yesterday — but in the Creator of all things, the great Transformer, to do a new thing. And when He does, I’ll be writing about it. You just watch and see.

[for] He is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine. Ephesians 3:20

Support That Claim

Featured ~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Click the arrow above to listen to me read this post. Printed text has linked content, some of which supports my claims.

Since we discussed bullying in my last post, perhaps we should also discuss another adolescent behavior — making unsubstantiated claims.

Guys, I’ve been hanging out with teenagers and children since 1989 when I taught my first class of mostly male 7th graders in a small school on the east side of Detroit. From there to suburban Detroit to a couple small towns in south central Michigan to St. Louis, Missouri, to Ann Arbor, and back to Detroit where I teach now, one hallmark behavior of all the teenagers and youth I have worked with is blurting out accusations without proper evidence.

I’m walking down the hall and a senior runs up to me frantically, “Mrs. Rathje, can you talk to Mr. Smith. I’m failing his class, and I did my work. He’s just not putting in the grades.”

A young man says, “We would’ve won that game last night, but the other team cheated.”

Someone else says, “My parents won’t pay for me to go to the prom. Can you help me out?”

These are all claims that one might be tempted to immediately believe. They might reply, “The teacher can’t do that! I’ll make him post his grades immediately.” or “They cheated! What did they do?” or “What a shame! Of course I will get you some money for prom.”

But critically thinking adults know that before they believe a claim, they need to ask for the evidence.

“Come with me to that teacher and let’s see what work has been recorded and what work has not.”

“Tell me more about the game. Who scored? How? What did your team do?”

“I know you want to go to the prom. What conversations have you had with your parents? What kinds of things do you think you need?”

Often, when we ask a follow up question we find out that the student did indeed do some of the school work and that the teacher had put in those grades, however, the student had missed some other critical assignments that he may or may not have been aware of. The team may have suffered a loss, but the other team may have simply outplayed them. The prom-goer might have assumed the parents couldn’t afford to pay for any of prom, but after a brief conversation, the student learns that they can cover the needed clothes, just not the admission ticket.

Teenagers (and other folks who have not matured beyond adolescent thinking) make unsubstantiated claims for lots of reasons. Often they are panicking — about their grades, about finances, or about feeling slighted — or they are feeling insecure — about their performance, their identity, or their social standing. One of the most important roles of the adults in the room is to identify that dysregulated emotion and to help ground the developing mind in reality.

Critical thinkers have to ask questions. If we see in the news that a man was shot and some are suggesting that a particular group was responsible, we have to ask the question, how do you know that?

If a political leader claims that a well-known and widely used medication causes neurodivergence, adults need to ask for the studies that prove this. Those in the room who know the claim to be false need to stand up and say, “Um, sir, that simply has not been proven.”

Most people from time to time make an unsubstantiated claim. I might say, for example, “prices are sky-rocketing; retailers really don’t care about the average consumer.” I may really feel this way, but unless I have evidence of retailers making decisions — setting prices — with blatant disregard for consumers, my claim is unsubstantiated. It might seem fairly harmless for me to say this in a fit of exasperation, but I may impact others simply by making the claim. Some people who trust me and know my track record of being thoughtful and researched may actually believe my unproven rant and form an opinion about retailers based on my spouting off. They may even change their shopping behavior because of their belief in my momentary rant.

And I’m just an every day middle-aged woman from the midwest. What if I had a national platform — what if I held a position of leadership or even power? What if I, standing on a national stage made the claim that a large northwestern city was under the siege of war? Would my constituents believe me? Would they form opinions about that city? Would they act on my claim? Would anyone in my orbit have the courage to demand that I provide evidence before broadcasting such incendiary language?

In a typical day, the average person is peppered with claims — from their coworkers touting the most efficient way to get the job done to their social media feeds spouting the latest health fad to their television news shows (whichever angle they are espousing) delivering their packaged opinions, to their neighbors and family members simply sharing their thoughts. It can be exhausting to interrogate every single claim you hear, but responsible adults must.

What complicates matters is that all of these claims are being made at a time when 54% of US adults (aged 16 to 74) read below a 6th grade level and 21% are functionally illiterate. More than half of the adults you encounter in a day may not be able to comprehend the evidence that supports some of the claims being made or may not have the critical thinking skills required to interrogate them.

However, some of us do! Some people have positions in rooms where very big decisions are made based on unsubstantiated claims, and they have the knowledge and ability to ask hard questions, to challenge authority, to stand up to crazy.

And they — we — must.

Whatever room you are in, whatever claims are being made, you have the responsibility to identify the dysregulation in the room and ask the questions that ground people in reality.

For the love of God and all things holy.

Ask for the evidence. Question the claim.

…examine everything carefully; hold fast to what is good. I Thessalonians 5:21

Of (not politics, but) Bullying

Featured ~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

Some people don’t like it when I talk about politics….I get it. If, as Wikipedia* states, politics is “the set of activities that are associated with making decisions in groups, or other forms of power relations among individuals, such as the distribution of status or resources,” I can see why the topic might make some people feel uncomfortable.

I mean, why would you want to examine the reality of which folks hold the power, which groups benefit from the decisions of those folks, and which groups are historically and perpetually disenfranchised by those decisions. That examination could lead to unsavory images, to be sure, and we wouldn’t want anyone to have to see that, so, let’s not talk about politics.

Instead, class, today let’s talk about bullies.

Every single school I have been a part of has had its bullies.

They don’t have to be the stereotypical intimidatingly oversized thugs that might be populating on your brain screen. In fact the bully of my first class was quite undersized. Physicality is not essential to the bully. Rather what characterizes the bully is the behavior that seeks to dehumanize, belittle, embarrass, or otherwise harm others and the presence of, at first, a yes man, then a crew, and ultimately the compliance of the larger group in allowing the bully to continue harming others.

It often starts with the bully targeting someone who is demonstrably “weak”. The bully might make fun of the disabled, denigrate immigrants, or even make jokes about someone’s weight. He (or she) looks around for a target then slings a grenade with the intent to do harm. But the harm is not where the power lies.

No. The power lies in the reaction to the harm. He gets a laugh at the expense of the disabled, a snicker at the expense of the immigrant, a guffaw at the expense of the overweight. And those responses are the fuel for the next attack.

Still high from the reaction of the yes men, the bully begins to scope out his next target — maybe someone with a little more clout — maybe a classmate or a peer. First he spreads rumors to harm his target’s reputation, he engages in name-calling to dehumanize his foe, he might even accuse others of wrong-doing, whether or not there is credence to his claims.

Throughout all of this, those around him, seeing the power he is building, have to make a choice — do they want to land in the bully’s sites or take a position at his side?

That’s a tough call, especially if you are in middle school or still have the insecurities that you had when you were in middle school. You might not think you can handle humiliation. You might not think you could weather the name-calling. You might not think you could bear up under the rumors. So, you chuckle at his antics, you move to his side of the room, you excuse his behavior as harmless, and you turn your eyes away from the victim.

And you continue to live with that decision because it still feels safer than having him turn the attention on you.

But then the assaults escalate. The blows become physical. And he’s going after someone who is or who used to be your friend. He might even attack a member of your family. Then you have to face a crisis of identity — who do you want to be? Do you want to stand behind this guy, smiling for the camera in your suit, waving your flag of allegiance, as he takes shots at not only the least of these but also at your neighbor, your brother, your friend, or your mom?

This moment happens in every bullying movie you’ve ever watched — The Karate Kid, when Danny LaRusso takes the blows of Johnny Lawrence almost to his peril in the final match, Mean Girls when Cady, who was once part of Regina George’s crew, finds herself a target when the burn book is circulated — the individual who had chosen to capitulate or even join a bully has to decide if they are going to stand up.

The rare ones who, despite their inner terror, find the courage to say “Not here, not today,” rise up from their devastation and face the bully. In the movies, this usually results in the bully walking away in shame or, in the most ideal of scenarios, having a change of heart and determining to be a different kind of person.

This sometimes happens in real life, too, although not inside the space of 90 minutes, and certainly not when the bully has been allowed to gain control beyond the schoolyard and into the community. No, in those cases, one person standing up will not be enough. To stop a bully who has, through all the text-book tactics of instilling fear through intimidation, established a culture of systemic compliance to the most ludicrous of actions, the community must come together and take a collective stand. They must, united, shout “Not here, not today!”

One person might not stop a bully, but a lot of single people, together, can do almost anything.

The bully can’t continue unless the community lets him.

Certainly the community will wake up and put a stop to it — it’s not politics, after all, it’s just refusing to let one person dehumanize another.

Defend the weak and fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed. Psalm 82:3

A couple of notes:

*If you were a student of mine in the early 2000s and cannot believe that I actually cited Wikipedia, see also lecture #497 entitled “Anybody Can Change”**.

**And when I say “anybody can change”, I do mean even bullies.

Also, if you listened to this post, you might be interested to know that the text version has several embedded links.

Here’s the thing(s)…

Featured ~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

*A quick note, sources and resources are linked in the text.

I’ve been kind of quiet in this space lately. It’s May, and I’ve only posted six times so far this year. For a girl who posted almost daily when this blog began, six times in four months is virtually silent.

But here’s the thing….

Just kidding…there isn’t one thing that is keeping me from putting words on the page (or rather the screen)…it’s more like a steady stream of things that seem to keep coming at me (at you?) in such a way that I can’t really focus. I can’t keep my eyes on one thing for long enough to form a thought, let alone an opinion.

At work, I’m down to just a few weeks with my seniors, and their excitement/ambivalence/annoyance would be a lot to process and respond to on its own, but we’ve also had Family Conferences and Decision Day. Each of these events takes a team effort to prepare for and execute. (You know the drill — communications, set up, station assignments, and the running of the actual event, and although neither is my responsibility, I am a member of the team.) I also have had the responsibility this year to recognize students of the month (one for each teacher in the building) and honor roll recipients. This entails identifying honorees, pulling them from class for a photo, and sending those photos to someone — preferably not myself — to have them loaded into a Canva document before they are printed out and posted in the hallways. In addition to all of this “normal” school activity, the authorizer of our school charter is visiting us this week for an educational program review that we learned about just several weeks ago. Such a visit, like school accreditation, requires the submission of countless artifacts such as lesson plans, IEPs, coaching trackers, professional development documents, etc. I was part of a team that pulled all those together and submitted them electronically. This past week leadership and staff met to prepare for the visit that will be spread over three days — all while school is in session, you know, the actual teaching and learning part. Spring is always busy at school, but this year is exceptionally so.

At home, things are a bit more relaxed –we have no major repairs pending, and we’re happily in the midst of installing our garden — but if home life includes extended family, then I have to disclose that my mother and stepfather have had some pretty difficult challenges for all of 2025 that just right now seem to be stabilizing if you don’t mention the fact that at least one of them is recently ready to start exploring assisted living facilities, which takes the coordination of six adult children to do lots of fact finding. I would also be remiss if I did not mention that my dear Aunt Margaret, after many years of relative health, has taken a sudden and recent decline.

All of this is, of course within the realm of “normal” adult life. You have also had busy seasons at work and at home — they come and they go — and although they are at times taxing to navigate, we somehow make it through to the other side in time for the next wave of whatever it is that is coming.

But these are not the things that are blurring my focus. No, they take time, of course, and energy, but they are manageable. I think what has me off balance may have many of us off balance — the continuous stream of government actions that may or may not impact us directly, but nevertheless are jarring to the brain and that lead us, at least me, to at times retreat, to dissociate, to not want to process or deal with any of it.

In 2018, presidential strategist Stephen K. Bannon bragged about that administration’s strategy to “flood the zone” with initiatives. The idea was to roll out a constant flow of orders and directives to throw “the opposition” (you know, other Americans) off balance so that they could not respond (Source). Since that administration regained the presidential office this past January, this strategy is being used again, only to the nth degree.

In the first 100 days of this administration (in just under four months) we have been overwhelmed by actions such as: the pardoning of those who invaded the US capitol on January 6, 2020; the freezing of funds for cancer research, Meals on Wheels, and disaster relief; the implementation of tariffs on every country in the world, the pause in tariffs, the subsequent roll-back of said tariffs, and currently, the exponentially high tariffs on China (which will certainly impact most of us); the firing of countless federal employees followed by the attempt to rehire some of them; the withholding of funds to public universities who refuse to comply with the administration’s agenda; the deportation of countless immigrants, some whom are legal residents, with some being sent to foreign prisons; the continuing and hard to follow involvement in the ongoing conflicts in Israel/Gaza and Russia/Ukraine; the president’s attendance at the funeral of the Pope followed by his posting of an image of himself dressed as the pope on social media; and this is just scratching the surface (Source). You might be shouting at me right now, “what about the…[fill in the blank].”

Frankly, I’ve got to look at what is happening on the national scene through a peep hole with one eye covered. I can’t look at it in full — and that’s exactly the idea. This administration is using the everything, everywhere, all at once strategy to keep us all in this state of slack-jawed disbelief.

And that is where I find myself, only I’ve moved from stunned to numb. I feel detached from reality, not wanting to engage because I can’t keep up. But that is what this administration has said it wants — to “flood the zone” so that we become overwhelmed.

But here’s the thing — the actual thing — we can’t do that.

We can walk away. We can take breaks. We can sit for two hours after a long day and work on a 1000-piece puzzle depicting van Gogh’s “Irises”, or take a walk through the park plucking lilac sprigs, inhaling their beauty on a glorious spring day, or lose track of time choosing the latest fiction from the library shelves, or binge-watch “The Four Seasons” on Netflix, but then we’ve got to re-engage.

We’ve got to notice the actions that are being proposed — such as cuts to education, to PBS, to NPR!! — we’ve got to let our voices be heard — through letter writing, phone calling, boycotting or participating in peaceful protests. What we tolerate, what we look away from, what we allow — these are the things we accept.

And, overwhelmed though I might be, I cannot accept funding cuts to public education — not when I see the inequities that already exist. I cannot accept the devaluing of other humans — not immigrants, not members of the LGBTQ+ community, not minorities, not women, not anyone. I cannot accept that as the profits of billionaires increase their taxes are not commensurate, especially not at the expense of the poor. I cannot accept a disregard for the fragility of the environment — when we know better we have to do better.

We are indeed looking at a flood of issues, and each of us also has our own life to manage. None of us can stop a flood alone, but we can each do our part — we can warn the others, we can grab a bucket and start bailing, we can plug a hole, we can help those who are drowning.

Together we can weather a flood.

Beloved, let us love one another. 1 John 4:7

Educational Break

Featured ~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

On Thursday afternoon, I tidied my classroom, finalized some grades, and walked away from school and toward my Spring Break. The mere thought of not having to set an alarm for 10 days would’ve put a pep in my step if I’d had any pep left at all, but I did not.

All teachers are exhausted by this time in the year. Even though we had Christmas break, even though we might’ve had a long weekend or even a full week off in February, we’ve been, since September, coordinating learning for our students, planning multiple presentations each day, keeping records, reporting to our supervisors, and (and this is the most draining part) making countless in-the-moment decisions:

What is the first thing I need to do when I walk in the door?

Do I have an extra stapler, know where more chart paper is, and can I laminate another hall pass for Room 117?

No, you can’t go to my classroom unattended; yes, I can get you a bandaid; no I don’t know where Mr. Smith is,

You can’t go to the bathroom right now, but ask me again in 10 minutes.

Yes, you can take that pencil, borrow that book, eat that snack.

You sit over here; you stay there.

Yes, your topic sentence is solid, but no, that is not an adequate example.

You’ve used AI here, and you must re-do the assignment.

You’ve used AI here, and you cannot re-do the assignment.

Yes, you can turn it in late. No, the deadline has passed.

Yes, you can work with a partner. No, you can’t get the answers from a peer.

This is non-stop all day long, but teachers, while keeping this decision-making machine running, must also, intervene in interpersonal conflicts, address misbehavior, meet demands for mandatory documentation, and, oh yeah, provide high quality instruction.

And most of us are happy to do all of this. We see each piece as necessary for supporting human development, for preparing the next generation of humans for meaningful life in our society. We’re teaching our students to co-exist with one another, to manage themselves, to hold themselves accountable, to read, to write, to identify a career, and to begin to take steps toward attaining that career. We’re in this work because we like kids but also because we believe in the power of education to create possibility for students of all backgrounds and abilities and to create a better future for all of us.

In the school where I work — a small charter school on the edge of Detroit, where 99% of my students are Black, where 100% of the students qualify for free breakfast and lunch, where almost all of the students are below the national average in reading and math scores by no fault of their own but because of centuries-long inequity in education–the teachers, like me, believe in the transformative power of education. We see it as an opportunity to not only change lives but to save lives.

In addition to the exhausting work that teaching is in any context, teachers in buildings like mine have the added weight of wondering if our kids have enough to eat, if they have a home to sleep in, if their home is safe, if they will have what they need for the next 10 days, or if they will be alone, hungry, cold, or in danger. Our students have the same needs as any students in the country, but they have additional needs as a result of poverty that stems from systemic inequities that go back through the history of our nation — school segregation, red-lining in real estate, unconscious bias in hiring practices, and other elements of historical and current systemic racism.

So, you might imagine how I am feeling, heading into a much-needed break while simultaneously worrying about my students’ welfare, to learn that the president of this country has ordered the Director of the Department of Education to dismantle it.

You may say, “Settle down, Kristin, most funding for education comes from the state.”

That is true, most money for education comes from the state — but do you know what does come from the federal government? Funds that make a difference for students like mine. For example, Title I, which provides $18 million to low-income districts. It’s not enough to make up for the economic disparity between neighboring districts, but it’s a start. The Department of Education also provides IDEA (Individuals with Disabilities Education Act) funds to the tune of $15 billion to help districts provide additional resources to students with learning disabilities, cognitive impairments, and other diagnoses such as autism. Source.

Furthermore, the US Department of Education manages Federal Student Aid for post-secondary education, providing over $120 billion annually in grants, loans, and work study that allows students like mine to dream of a career. And not just students like mine — I myself relied on federal money to get my degrees, didn’t you? Source

Can you imagine what might happen in communities across the country if high school seniors no longer have access to the FAFSA? if they can no longer apply for federal dollars to fund their education through grants and/or loans? Tuition alone for Michigan State University is over $16,000 a year. Add in room and board and your talking about $35,000+. Most students need at least four years to get a basic degree. Who among us can fund $140k without the aid of at least a student loan?

Now, the State of Michigan is prepared to fund up to two years of community college and up to $5,500 per year at state universities, but states rely on the federal mechanism of the FAFSA to distribute those funds. If the DOE is dismantled, how long will it take for states to pivot to their own systems to ensure that students who need these funds get them? And, where will students borrow the balance that is not covered by state funds if they don’t have access to federal student loans?

How many students will take post-secondary education right off the table — including trade school programs that prepare our electricians, plumbers, welders, builders, and the like?

As I consider the potential outcomes of such action, the faces of my seniors are appearing in my mind — J. who wants to be a programmer, who has already completed several summers developing coding skills, L. who plans to be a nurse, K. who wants to be a truck driver, and S. who plans to become a police officer. None of these students can take one more step without the FAFSA and right this minute the Secretary of Education (who has zero experience with issues that impact schools) is busy laying off DOE employees under a directive from the president.

I am exhausted, and it’s my Spring Break, but I can’t just sit by and watch this happen.

So, I’m doing two things: First, I’m writing this post, and second I’m committing to use the app “Five Calls” to involve myself in the American process.

Here is how it works. Download the app, select the issue you are concerned about, and enter your zipcode. You will see a timeline of updates on that issue and a list of representatives from your district. One click later, you will see a page like this:

You click on the number, wait for an answer, read the script, and and click a blue button to register whether you left a voicemail or made contact, and the app sends you to the next number.

In just a few moments this morning I made three calls.

This may seem like something small — just like my boycotting may seem small and ineffectual to some –but if we truly believe that our government is of, by, and for the people, then we, the people, need to get involved. We need to do something when we see that our government is not representing all of the people — particularly when they are taking steps to further disenfranchise the most marginalized among us.

Look, you’re probably exhausted and overworked, too. You might feel like this is not worth your time, but perhaps you can take a journey back to your high school self, remember what it feels like to have a dream in front of you — of a career, a family, a whole adult life. Remember what that feels like? Don’t we want to make sure that every kid in America has an opportunity to pursue their dreams?

If you believe in the transformative power of education like I do, I urge you to make 5 calls — today, tomorrow, and until our voices are heard.

It’s a small decision you and I can make that could make a monumental difference for our kids, our country, our future.

Speak up … defend the rights of the poor and the needy. Proverbs 31:9

Why boycott?

Featured ~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Note: If you are listening to this blog post, several links are embedded in the print if you are interested in reading further.

Many years ago, not long after I met my husband, we began discussing a topic I’d never really considered before — boycotting. As I’ve mentioned here before, I grew up in a family that rarely, if ever, discussed politics. I remember when the Watergate hearings were on TV, but I have no shred of memory of how my parents felt about Nixon or the scandal. I have no idea, even, how they voted..

So when I met my husband, it was a little surprising to hear open political discussions — in the back yard, over dinner, on a car ride — about elections, of course, but much more specific issues such as unions, public assistance, and even (gasp!) abortion.

When I learned that in my husband’s family everyone drove American made cars or were required to park across the street when visiting, it made sense to me. My father-in-law was a retiree of General Motors and brand loyalty mattered. However, when my husband said he didn’t want to shop at Walmart, I had to ask why. He explained that Walmart was anti-union, and as a child of an autoworker, he had learned the power of the union to protect and support workers. He preferred not to support a company that wouldn’t allow its employees to organize. I didn’t feel passionately about it at the time, but I could get behind it.

As the years have passed, I’ve learned more about how Walmart underpays its employees while the owners become billionaires, I’ve grown my own distaste for the company and have shopped elsewhere. (This Time article chronicles some of Walmart’s journey including attempts they have made — under pressure from boycotting! — to improve.)

Of course, Amazon is similar in its practices. While it has made moves to reform, well-documented accounts cite drivers not being able to stop on their routes to use the bathroom and how they adapt to this expectation by carrying urine receptacles in their vehicles or by wearing disposable undergarments. Other accounts cite unpaid overtime, unsafe working conditions, and low wages, all while corporate profits rose to $88 Billion in the first quarter of 2025.

Amazon, Walmart, and other large companies are known for using employees — many of whom are low income and/or people of color — working them just up to the number of hours that don’t require them to pay benefits like insurance and sick leave and hiring for “provisional” employment and firing before the employee qualifies for permanent status. As a result, many employees of these companies remain on state and federal assistance while their CEOs pay a lower tax rate than the average American.

I have seen many of my students lured into jobs at Walmart, Amazon, and McDonald’s, promised pay raises, promotions, and an actual future, only to realize just weeks or months later that they had been misled.

So, what’s a middle-aged, middle-income woman like me supposed to do? How can I show that I don’t stand for this kind of corruption, that I don’t agree with these unfair practices? I vote with my purse. I’ve been doing this for years — avoiding companies that I don’t want to support and purchasing from those that I do. For many years this has been an isolated act that helps me feel like I have integrity. I doubt that I’ve made much impact, but I’ve slept better at night.

But this year, in 2025, anything can happen! All kinds of everyday people, using the engine of social media, can rise up and say, “You’re not getting our money!” If you take away your DEI programs, “you’re not getting our money.” If you won’t pay your employees a fair wage, “you’re not getting our money.” If you stand behind causes that harm our fellow Americans, “you are not getting our money.”

In 2025, I am not standing alone! People across the country are cancelling their Prime memberships and refusing to shop at Target, Amazon, Walmart, and other retailers. Last weekend, many refused to spend any money at all for 24 hours. This week, thousands are abstaining from Amazon purchases, and this is just the beginning!

Organizations like the People’s Union have coordinated efforts to systematically send a message to corporations that will hurt their bottom line without jeopardizing the jobs of those who currently work for these entities.

And the beauty of this protest is that it doesn’t cost anything, you don’t have to go anywhere, no one gets hurt, and if you don’t like it, you get to make your own choices. That’s what is great about living in the United States — we still have the freedom to say what we want, to spend what we want, and to support what we want.

For me, that means speaking up about inequity wherever I see it — in education, in health care, in commerce.

Now, I’m sure I still spend money, unwittingly, at businesses that have practices that don’t jive with my guiding principles, and if I learn about them, I will shift. It’s as easy as that.

What do I hope to accomplish? I truly hope the combined efforts of all those who are shifting their buying habits (some sources say 24% of Americans so far in 2025) will get the attention of these corporate giants and they will begin to change some of their policies. I think this could happen, because although the pen is mightier than the sword, money is what really talks.

If this movement can sustain itself long enough for these large corporations to notice changes in their quarterly earnings, we just might get their attention. And if we get their attention, they may hear our message — you can’t abuse people and still get our business.

It’s a small action of many that stands up for those whose voices are not being listened to; it’s an expectation that in a country that professes that all are created equal, that all would be given equal opportunity. Period

That’s reason enough for me to boycott.

uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed; rescue the weak and the needy;
    deliver them from the hand of the wicked. Psalm 82:3-4

I told you so.

Featured ~ Kristin ~ 2 Comments

See? I told you so! Anything can happen in 2025!

You can have your whole week planned — your students will do a peer review on Friday, you’ll sleep in on Saturday, and then you’ll pack a bag and head south to your grand girls to play for the weekend.

But instead, since it’s 2025, your mother will fall down and break her leg on Thursday, you’ll put some sub plans together, pack a different kind of bag to head north. You’ll sit in a hospital room, watching the second hand click so that your mother’s turn for surgery will come at 5:00…no 6:30. Really, it’ll be at 7…we just got pushed to 8, but it’s still gonna happen…no sorry, an emergency brain surgery just bumped her place. We’re moved to 9am tomorrow.

You’re watching her writhe in pain even though they’ve given her NORCO and morphine, then you see her finally settle when they administer dilaudid.

You drive 45 minutes, picking up a chocolate shake on the way, then deliver it to your stepfather who has probably not left his recliner today. You tell him to take his meds, then put on your pajamas, crawl into bed, and set the alarm. You don’t ask if the cat has gone outside. You don’t remind him to put on his oxygen.

Meanwhile, your husband is following through on the initial plan, packing a bag and preparing to drive south.

The alarm blares and you jump up, do a little yoga, gather the items your mother asked for, tell your stepfather that no, you won’t be running to get a coffee, but he should take his meds, take his inhaler, and get himself some breakfast. The last you knew he was still driving, still running to get his own coffee, telling you he can manage on his own, but his wife of 48 years, his primary caregiver, just fell and broke her leg two days ago, he has memory issues, COPD, and a urostomy, and he is quite confused.

He takes his night meds instead of his morning meds. He doesn’t use his inhaler. He doesn’t go get coffee or something to eat. No.

So, while you are waiting through your mother’s surgery, chatting with your younger brother, reading a book, completing a crossword, your stepfather is home struggling.

You call to tell him that his wife is out of surgery, and he says great, but he’s having trouble breathing.

Part of you is worried, but part of you thinks he just wants some of the attention for himself. All of you just wants one moment that isn’t a crisis.

“Do you have your oxygen on?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Ok, put it on. Keith is headed your way soon.”

You and your brother grab a lunch then head to your mother’s room to see her post op. As she’s wheeled in, sound asleep, your brother’s phone rings. Your other brother is with your stepfather, trying to get his oxygen on him, administering an inhaler, making him something to eat.

You stay at the hospital. Your brother goes to the other crisis.

And it’s just Saturday afternoon.

Your husband will watch one grand girl play basketball. He’ll watch the other one play in a school hallway then throw up in the middle of the night. Then, he’ll watch their parents leave on vacation. He’ll go to procure gatorade, make toast, cuddle on the couch, and play games.

You’ll advocate for your mom over the next two days and slowly come to terms with the fact that your stepfather indeed cannot remember which meds to take, which inhaler to use when. He spends 23 hours a day in a recliner because that’s what he has the strength and capacity for, not simply because he’s a selfish asshole.

Although your fatigue is growing, so is your compassion. Your words get softer. You start putting the meds right in his hand. You refill his juice for the 17th time today, and you pick him up one more chocolate milkshake.

Although the experts point out the obvious — your parents need assisted living — and although you and your siblings are trying to make that happen, you also hear their desire to stay at home. Can’t they get chair lift for the stairs? Can’t they get in-home care?

So, you text in the group chat with your five siblings, each of whom are contributing in one way or another. You create a Google doc to keep track of everything that is happening and share it with the group. You assure your mom you won’t make decisions without their input. You’ll try to help them keep their cat. You know this is hard. You know it’s been hard.

Because she voted for the incoming president, you sit beside her and watch the inauguration. Because she’s frail you shut your mouth. You don’t react to the audacity, to the misrepresentations, to the falsehoods. Instead you watch her fall in and out of sleep while the crowd boos former presidents and then applauds the renaming of the Gulf of Mexico. You don’t so much as cuss under your breath or facepalm. You just quietly take it in.

And as you’re driving home, you don’t listen to news. No. You listen to the sermon you missed on Sunday. You sing along with worship music. You’re so exhausted you miss your exit and have to turn around. You pick up dinner, meet your husband — who has picked up groceries — at home, unpack, put on pajamas, eat dinner, and try to stay awake for a movie.

You’re not surprised when you wake up to see that a newly appointed government official used what looks like a Nazi salute. You’re not surprised by the immediate executive orders that have been made. No. We’ve seen this coming.

And, it’s 2025. Literally anything is possible.

A girl could grow compassion for her step-father. Six siblings who have spent little time as a group for the past 40 years could come together to care for their parents. An arctic blast could close school for a couple of days and give a girl a chance to do some laundry, to binge-watch a period drama, to put together a puzzle, to catch her breath.

…with God, all things are possible. Matthew 19:26

2024, How Extraordinary!

Featured ~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

From day one, 2024 suggested it would be one for the books, but never could I have imagined just how extraordinary it would turn out to be (and yes, I do realize I am writing this with six whole weeks remaining in this storied year).

Now, when I use the word extraordinary, I am not trying to say it has been wonderful or fantastic. I am sticking with the dictionary definition of very unusual. So much about this year — in my personal life, but also in the public realm — has been extraordinary.

It might have seemed ordinary that my 61 year old husband took his pension after a thirty-seven year long career and began a private practice — lots of people do that. But it was rather extraordinary that within two weeks of his new reality his mother was diagnosed with stage 4 liver cancer and my stepfather was diagnosed with bladder cancer. We couldn’t have known when my husband decided to make this major life transition that we would be stepping into more supportive roles with our parents for the next many months and that he would need the flexibility that his private practice has allowed.

It is pretty ordinary for an organization to go through transitions when key people leave, but it is rather extraordinary that within two months of my husband leaving his university role, the board of directors of that institution announced that it would be all but closing within the next academic year. It’s rather ordinary for institutions to have a life cycle, of course, but it is rather extraordinary that this life cycle would be ended when the university was as strong — or stronger — as it had ever been.

I could continue…the whole year has been like this. I mean, it’s ordinary to have family drama, and we’ve had some of the ordinary kind, but since it’s 2024, we’ve had some extraordinary family drama. A friend, early in the year made the observation that when families are under distress or trauma, all the dysfunction shows up to an exponential degree, and I can attest that it is so. (In fact, I may have been a little exponential myself on a couple occasions, truth be told.)

We had some extraordinary moments with my mother-in-law — some of the very good kind of extraordinary moments — before she passed away on October 1. And it was extraordinary to see the friends and family roll in to say goodbye and to honor her life.

I had a couple pretty extraordinary moments with my stepfather during his chemo, during a couple hospitalizations, and during his recovery. And since his chances were 50/50 with the type of cancer he had, it might be considered extraordinary that he is now cancer free!

As we ordinarily do, my husband and I prepared our garden in the spring, sowed seeds for lettuce, radishes, carrots, and beets and planted tomato plants and potatoes. And, as usual, the radishes and lettuce thrived, the carrots and beets struggled, and the potatoes and tomatoes gave a respectable yield. But what was extraordinary was that despite the fact that we didn’t plant pumpkins, have never planted pumpkins, we harvested dozens — yes, dozens — of pie pumpkins, many of which are still in my pantry.

I don’t ask questions. It’s 2024. Anything can happen.

I can take a new role and expect to transition away from teaching, only to find two weeks before school that I will be doing the new role and teaching. I can expect this to be overwhelming only to find that I am thriving — loving the opportunity to do both roles.

It’s very ordinary to have a presidential election every four years, but how ordinary is it that both candidates are basically octogenarians? how ordinary that one of them — the actual president — drops out of the race months before the election? how ordinary that a Black and Asian female would take his place? how ordinary that her opponent is a convicted felon under investigation for myriad crimes? how ordinary that she breaks all fund-raising goals on record? how ordinary that her opponent has two attempts on his life while campaigning? how ordinary that his running mate creates a racist narrative and admits to creating it? how ordinary that a candidate campaigns from a garbage truck, spends thirty minutes of a rally playing random songs from his playlist, and still — still — still gets elected?

That’s extraordinary. And then it just gets even more unusual when he selects someone else under criminal investigation for sex-related crimes to be the United States Attorney General and someone accused of “traitorous parroting of Russian propaganda” to be the Head of U.S. Intelligence!

But it’s 2024 — anything can happen!

I can fly to Philadelphia, visit dear relatives, attend a wedding on the Jersey Shore, fly back home, and test positive for Covid all within the span of a week. That might be pretty ordinary in these post-pandemic times, but is it also ordinary to follow a Covid isolation with food poisoning? Probably not.

This year has been anything been ordinary, and it’s not over yet.

What will the next six weeks bring? I wouldn’t dare to guess.

But I am not afraid — a little obsessive about self-care, but not afraid.

After all, “What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.” (Ecclesiastes 1:9). Since the dawn of time there has been disease, death, corruption, immorality. Perhaps the brazenness of 2024 is what is catching me off-guard, but that, too, is not new.

It’s especially not new to a high school teacher. No, we live in the realm of brazenness, of bravado, of actual crying out loud — these are the hallmarks of adolescent behavior. They are intended to intimidate, to gain control, to encourage onlookers on to “pay no attention to what is behind the curtain,” but don’t make the mistake I made in my earlier days of interacting with teens. Any seasoned teacher of adolescents will tell you that behind the curtain is exactly where you need to look. Usually what you find there is insecurity, loneliness, and perhaps even desperation.

Let’s not let the extraordinary of 2024 keep us from recognizing what is truly ordinary in all of this. Each of us longs for connection, for the ability to trust those around us with our most vulnerable parts, but there is no way we can make connection when we are distracted by name-calling, blaming, bravado, the extraordinary.

One by one we have to refuse to be intimidated in the face of bluster. We have to be willing to risk, to get close, to look behind the curtain.

People are hard to hate close up. Move in. Speak truth to bullshit. Be civil. Hold hands. With strangers. Strong back. Soft front. Wild heart.” — Brene Brown, Braving the Wilderness