Over-Easy

There’s a story in the news about a 10 year old boy who has refused to stand for the pledge of allegiance. He thought about the meaning of the phrase “liberty and justice for all”, realized that this country doesn’t actually guarantee this, and acted on what he believed in.

Developmentally/psychologically speaking, he’s at the age when these sorts of situations happen. Kids start questioning the world around them, maybe taking a stand for a cause. As an example, this is around the time when many kids choose to become vegetarians.

I started refusing to stand for the pledge in 7th grade. The particular phrase that troubled me was “under God” – I was in the middle of, or maybe nearing the first of several conclusions of, my spiritual crisis. I didn’t know what God or religion meant to me personally, so I was concerned about what I was saying publicly. Was I pledging my belief in God? Was I supporting the idea of a Judeo-Christian nation? Trying to pin down my exact line of reasoning now would be a pointless exercise, but suffice it to say that I didn’t feel I should support a pledge I didn’t believe in.

So I stopped standing for the pledge in the morning. At first, no one really noticed. Homeroom was in an art classroom, so the room was large and we sat at big tables instead of desks. We were also arranged alphabetically, meaning that, as usual, I was near the back.

I don’t know how long it took, but eventually my teacher noticed. I wish I could remember the exact interaction that took place, exactly what words were exchanged or for how long it went on, but I don’t. All I remember is that one day, after one or more unsuccessful attempts to get to me to stand for the pledge, my teacher decided to write a note to my parents in my homework book.

To get a message to my parents, this would be the most logical way. The homework book was given to us by the school – we’d write down our daily assignments, finish these assignments at home, and get the page signed by a parent. Now, for some kids and families I suppose this was very helpful – getting the parent involved in the child’s education, getting the child to be responsible for his or her work.

Ok, enough with the grand ideas – it was just an extra layer of nannying. No one trusted twelve year olds.

For me, it was just a burden. At least when it came to homework, I was pretty responsible and self-sufficient. I was one of these crazy kids who actually enjoyed learning. I did my homework without any pressure (and usually during the school day) and I didn’t need anyone checking up on me. My parents knew this. Signing the book every night was a huge waste of time on their part.

Because no one in my family cared about the homework book, I often forgot to get it signed. Obviously, this didn’t reflect anything about my ability to do my assignments, but some teachers saw it differently. In a few of my classes, the teachers would randomly check the homework book and award points if it had been signed the night before. It didn’t matter if I had done the homework or not – suddenly, the most important part was whether I (and my parents) could follow pointless rules.

Without too much fretting, we found an easy solution to this crisis. My mother pre-signed the entire homework book.

Back to the situation in homeroom. My teacher opens up my homework book so that she can add a note to my parents about my refusal to stand for the pledge. Before she begins to write, though, she notices that my mom had already signed off on my homework for the current day. Confused, she flips to the next page. Another signature. She continues flipping. Again, I wish that I could remember her words, but in summary, she is outraged by this conspiracy against the school system. She writes an impassioned note, no longer about me, but about my mom’s apparent dismissal of necessary parental responsibility.

I’m suddenly off the hook. My mom, on the other hand, is reported for her actions. She gets a stern talking-to by the principal during parent/teacher night.

In the homework book I receive for the next quarter, my mom writes a note on the inside cover: “For purposes of this homework book, my new signature will be an ‘X’”. I explain to teachers that this just saves us time – two overlapping strokes is much easier than a full signature each and every night.

One teacher asks, “but Natalie, how will I know that you aren’t just signing your homework book every night?”

I can’t respond immediately. I stare at her, eyes wide, jaw slacken. I really don’t want to lie to her face.

But before I can attempt to dig myself out of this hole, my teacher answers her own question. She says sincerely, “because I know you would never do that!” and I almost feel bad about the delusion she’s created. Almost.

Posted on Tuesday, November 17th, 2009 at 12:03 pm. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.