From debt of honor to glory

    George Washington did not have biological children.

    When he married the widowed Martha Custis, he became stepfather to her two children. His stepdaughter, Patsy, died of an epileptic seizure at 17. His stepson, Jack, died of "camp fever" right after the Battle of Yorktown, the final battle of the Revolutionary War that saw the final surrender of British forces under Lord Cornwallis.

    While George and Martha Washington were unable to have children of their own, good fortune can provide what nature denies. 

    So it was that one of the most enduring stories of the American Revolution is that of the bonds of duty and affection between Washington and Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier.

    Most know him as the Marquis de Lafayette.

    The young and idealistic son of a noble French family, the young Lafayette became convinced of the righteousness and justice of the American Revolution. He was exhilirated by the thoughts of a people fighting for liberty and the right to self-rule. In his personal philosophy he celebrated self-determination, fairness, and duty--a true Enlightenment man!

     Hearing that the Continental Army welcomed French volunteers, he purchased his voyage to the New World. Landed in South Carolina, made his way to Philadephia and was commissioned an officer by Congress by influence of his advocate Benjamin Franklin and by virtue of his French military training since the age of 13. 

      Under Washington's command, Lafayette took an increasing role in command of American forces. At first not allowed direct command of troops due to being foreign-born, he rose by dint of distinguished service, battlefield prowess, and injuries in the cause of liberty to one of Washington's most trusted and valued staff generals. 

    Lafayette it was who rallied the troops at the Battle of Brandywine, turning a rout into an orderly retreat even despite being shot. During the winter of 77-78 at Valley Forge, he shared the privations of the starving army during "the times that try men's souls". After returning to France to solicit increased military aid for the colonists, he returned to America and commanded a division of troops in the defeat of Cornwallis that ended the War.

    During and after the War, Lafayette was the most visible symbol of French support and comradeship. Washington viewed him as an adopted son, and his letters to the young Frenchman show a warmth and affection that are significant given Washington's formal and proper manners with others. The still-preserved Washington estate at Mount Vernon features a "Lafayette Room," with a famous portrait of the young general in military uniform painted by eminent artist Charles Wilson Peale. A family portrait of the Lafayette family once hung in the front parlor of the estate. 

    Also featured prominently at Mount Vernon, in the main hallway, is the key to the Bastille presented to Washington by his friend after the fall of that prison at the outset of the French Revolution. It was sent as "a tribute Which I owe as A Son to My Adoptive father, as an aid de Camp to My General, as a Missionary of liberty to its patriarch."

    Another tribute he paid to General Washington?

   He named his young son Georges Washington Louis Gilbert de La Fayette.  Georges was born in 1779, during his father's military service in the Continental Army. Like his father, he became a friend of America, and like his father, he served various heads of state in France.

    Because of his republican principles and because of his service in America for liberty and equality, Lafayette was one of the few nobles to survive the French Revolution. He served the French people through the Napoleonic period and the Bourbon Restoration, and frequently returned to tour America.

    He was called The Hero of Two Worlds.

    So it is no surprise that when, in 1917 at the height of World War I, the Allied Expeditionary Force under General Pershing landed in Europe to take up arms alongside France and Britain, we Americans remembered the debt of honor and brotherhood from the 18th century.

    The first contingent of American troops marched through the streets of Paris with General Pershing. Their march ended at the grave of Lafayette. There one of Pershing's aides, Colonel Charles Stanton, delivered a short and heartfelt address:

    "The fact cannot be forgotten that your nation was our friend when America was struggling for existence...that France in the person of Lafayette came to our aid in words and deed.

    Therefore it is with loving pride we drape the colors in tribute of respect to this citizen of your great Republic, and here and now in the shadow of the illustrious dead we pledge our hearts and our honor in carrying this war to successful issue:

    Lafayette, we are here."

Every four years

    Every four years-here we go again.

    ...endless ink will be spilled.

    May even see families and friends split one against the other.

    Continous news cycle dealing win-loss scenarios around the clock.

            *        *        *        *

     Okay, so I have been subtly dealing a bit of misdirection.

    I am talking about the World Cup.

    See what I did there?

           *        *        *        *

    Like the Olympics and like election cycles, the World Cup offers uninterrupted spectacle, sage commentary from various talking heads or pundits, and new opportunities to embrace Cinderella stories. Climb to the top fueled by gumption or chutzpah and relentless hard work. 

    Maybe with a bit of luck thrown in.

    Except this time, the competition has returned to America for the first time in more than 30 years.

    Since 1994. 

             *        *        *        *

    Seems that soccer-futbol, excuse me-has been a growing sport on the cusp of national fervor as long as I have been alive. Maybe home turf will create a new opportunity. 

    Similar to how the 84 Los Angeles Olympics captured the whole country as Mary Lou Retton-Michael Jordan-Greg Louganis-Carl Lewis dominated their events.

    But what has been captivating me is the human interest angle of these games, the way America has responded to strangers flooding into its stadiums and arenas.

            *        *        *        *

•     Teams from around the world have made their base camps in American cities and towns large and small as they train and prepare. The Algerian national team is quartered in Lawrence, Kansas. The nearby University of Kansas has a large population of international students, so the town is accustomed to welcoming folks from all over the world.This explains the embrace of the visitors:

            Storefronts have been DRENCHED in the Algeria's colors.

            Local kids have flooded the free soccer clinics put on by the stars

            Local batting cages invited the players in for a swing or two at OUR national sport

            The University of Kansas marching band quickly learning the Algerian national anthem. Of course they did.

            Traditional Algerian music was blasted from street corners. The whole community rallied around them. Algeria were underdogs who fell to juggernaut Argentina. Alas and egad. What a Cinderella story that would have been, had they won....  

    Maybe the Algerian national motto "by the people and for the people" also explains why Algeria seems to be kin to the people of Kansas. 

    Shades of Lincoln's Gettysburg Address:  "government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."    

    I just reread that last Lincoln quote to myself.  It resonates like our national DNA. 

            Shivers up my spine

            a flush of emotion constricting my throat

            goose bumps on my arms. Shall not perish from the earth, indeed. 

•     German soccer fan and influencer Freddy has been posting rapturously about Buc-ees and Waffle House, paying homage to the hugeness of America and cultural icons we all know.

•     Japanese fans, following their tradition that follows the saying "a bird that flies never leaves a trace", pulled trash bags out of their purses and pockets and cleaned up their stadium after their first match. This so moved commentator Jameis Winston that he pitched in, too. Later, one Japanese fan visited his first-ever Mexican restaurant. Was nonplussed by the basket of chips-unordered and gratis-that was delivered matter-of-factly before his food arrived. 

   "In my land, hospitality is a debt. Every gift creates an obligation... Here, the gift arrives before you have even proven you can pay for dinner.  This is not an appetizer. This is a declaration: we trust you...the trust of a nation is in that salsa.."

•    Scotland's Tartan Army drinking Boston dry over a weekend-more pints consumed than St. Paddy's and the SuperBowl-and taking over Fenway Park, belting out a spine-tingling crowd performance of "Take Me Home, Country Roads."

•     And home sweet home, my personal favorite, Auburn's Jordan-Hare Stadium playing host to Argentina v Iceland. Right before the match, the crowd was treated to the inspirational unbound Eagle Flight of Aurea, War Eagle VIII. Circle circle circle the stadium swooping over the crowd spiraling ever lower until the last glide to land midfield as the crowd volume swells to the drawn-out battle cry "Waaaaaar Eagle, Hey!"

    The crowd went wild.

    And went wild later when superstar Lionel Messi subbed in for Argentina and made his first score of the tournament.

    

    The last time we hosted the World Cup, we set records for per-match attendance and kick-started Major League Soccer. This time, it seems we are winning hearts and minds from around the world.

    Being won over by fans from around the globe in return.

    I can't help but reflect, in this 250th year (semiquincentennial) since the founding of our country, that we are once again transforming the heritage and history of the rest of the world. In sport as in history, we have taken the best and brightest, added our unique interpretation, and gifted it back to the rest of the world. 

    Sport, at its best, unites us in the desire for victory, in the recognition of shared striving, and in the admiration of human achievement on the field of competition. From the Olympics of ancient Greece to today, we delight and share in spectacular feats and accomplishments. 

    We all feel a part of the triumph and drama happening in stadiums around the country.

    

    

    

THAT was motivating

     Persistence: To climb steep hills requires slow pace at first

    Stay positive : Work hard : Make it happen

    Such are the typical motivational posters found plastering the walls of junior high schools. Fading into the background-a week after they are tacked up, they disappear into your subconscious never to be seen again. 

    The best of intentions-inspire the student body. But rarely is there an impact where the rubber meets the road.

    Until this year-when our brilliant yearbook sponsor brainstormed a new wrinkle-to rip down the generic "hang in there" dangling kitten posters

and replace them with quotes and photos of current students. There has been a lot more interest in the hallways since real people saying real words started making their appearance. 

    Student engagement-check

    Entertainment value-check

    **************************************************

    ....enter Tomas. He entered our school as a squirrely 6th grader with a penchant for elopement. In the world of educational jargon, elopement does not mean "escape to Las Vegas to be wed by an Elvis impersonator in a neon chapel." Instead, it refers to a student that leaves class without permission. Absconds. Escapes, even.

    In other words, Tomas was a runner. When the going got tough--well, he got going. That first couple of months was a huge adjustment for him and the staff alike. He was assigned a pass to a cooling-down room that he could use instead of taking to the sidewalk. We learned to read his moods and to de-escalate tension to keep him in the classroom. Meanwhile, we focused on accelerated instruction in English to bring him up to his academic capacity.

    He was a bit resistant to learning. By that, I mean "almost totally uninterested in anything beyond Marvel comic books and Naruto anime." Dinosaurs, maybe. But math-science-social studies? Oh, not at all. He dug in his metaphorical heels and sat in class like a man of stone. All that 6th grade year.

    Seventh grade saw small improvements. Strategized bribery worked pretty well-given a list of what to accomplish at the beginning of each class, he would get it done to earn five or ten minutes of free time. But he rarely ventured into learning more than the absolute required minimum. Especially if it did not fall into his specialized fields of interest.

     And then, sometime over the summer between seventh and eight grade, his maturity switch flipped on. Along with growing a couple of inches taller, he developed an appetite for completing all of his work. For staying caught up in all classes. In answering questions posed by teachers in group work. In fearlessly taking on new projects even if unsure of how to begin.

     It was downright inspiring to everyone to see how a couple of years of hard work turned him into a success story. His 6-grade social studies teacher, who was also his 8th-grade technology teacher (and the aforementioned yearbook sponsor) was so amazed at his academic about-face that she awarded him her student-of-the year honor. 

    And featured him on one of the motivational student displays in the hallways.

    "Be Brave" proclaims the header, over a photo of Tomas cheekily typing on a keyboard "step outside your comfort zone."

    In smaller script below:

    "Take the leap, try something new

    and discover what you're capable of becoming"

    Tomas was grinning like a Cheshire cat both in the photo...

     ...and when he saw the poster for the first time in the 6th grade main hallway. The one across from the counselor's offices, next to the clinic and the teacher's lounge. The high-traffic area of the school where EVERYBODY passes every day.

    So of course I snapped a photo of it for him and sent it to his mom and dad. You'd want to see that if it was your kid, right? 

    Of course.

    And of course mom and dad were overjoyed to see him celebrated before the entire student and faculty population.

    Still-sometimes a hurried snapshot does not do true justice to the real McCoy.

    Which is why on this year's awards night, I snuck Mom and Dad into the school proper, past the double doors that separate the cafeteria/event stage. Down into the main hallway. To see their son splashed in glorious Technicolor on a 3 feet by 6 feet glossy poster, a testament to hard work and family support and triumphant redemption. 

    Must have been overwhelming to them--there were tears in evidence. The requisite shot was framed of him standing in front of his poster gesturing possessively towards it. 

    This is the glory of teaching-to watch struggle turn into jubilance.

    I wish every kid I teach could be like Tomas. 

    But the fact that they are not makes him all the more memorable.

       "Take the leap, try something new

    and discover what you're capable of becoming"

What's for lunch?

     Third day in.

    New school.

    New language.

    New country.

   

    Of all the uncomfortable and novel situations that I witness students engulfed in, the Late Arrival seems to carry a heavy burden. Junior high is such a transitional phase that it's inherently chaotic. Human bumper cars in crowded hallways. Navigating six or seven classes a day. Mastering locker combinations, changing into and out of PE uniforms in just a jot of time. Deciding which tribe is yours, and fitting into it. Already a dog's breakfast of anxiety and isolation.

    What if it is worse? What if you are new to the school, without even a group of friends to ease you in?

    What if you are new to Texas? To America?

     To speaking English?

    

    So, about a month before the end of school, we enrolled another Newcomer. Meaning Katya tested on beginning levels for speech, for listening, for reading, and for writing. Since the Newcomers are marked by a need for accelerated English instruction, they are grouped in the same class regardless of grade level.

     Originally from Kazakhstan, the last constituent piece of the USSR to break away as the Soviet Union crumbled. Speaking Russian. 

    Katya came in to a class with no common ground for her. No other Russian speakers.

     No other 6th graders.

     No other girls.

    

    So we assigned her a buddy for the first couple of weeks, a girl in the same grade, a native-born Texan whose family speaks Russian and who could thus bridge the gap for her. Show her where her classes are, how to open her locker, and how to get through the lunch line. Host Katya at her lunch table and involve her in the lunch community, hopefully sponsor some friendships in the group.

    What's that Robbie Burns said about the best-laid schemes of mice and men? Yup, third day in, the buddy got sick. Like out with a fever for a whole week sick.

    What was the most critical part of the day that Katya and her buddy shared? Not getting to class, she already knew her way around by the end of the second day.

    Not opening her locker.

    Not remembering which binder to use for each class.

  

    Rather--what to do about lunch? Where to sit? How to be accepted somewhere?

    We decided to ask the buddy's group of lunch friends to let Katya sit with them It would mean reaching out to several students and asking them to welcome our stranger to lunch. With her dozen or so words of English.    

   

     Only to find my efforts were not needed.

    

    Only to have my thunder stolen by a delegation, no less. 

    

    Between classes, I was visited by a solid half-dozen 6th grade girls who told me they would be coming by at the end of the next class to gather Katya so she would know where to sit for lunch.

    

    I am sure somewhere there is a motivational poster with those girls on it. Right between the one of the cat dangling from a branch that say "Hang on" and the one of impossibly neon lemons that instructs you to make lemons from lemonade. 

   

    Because there is little that is more "motivational" than a group of youngsters actively setting out to make the world a better place.

      

    One good deed at a time.

    Have I mentioned before that I am constrantly gobsmacked by the prosocial behavior of youngsters? I seem to have a perpetual lump in my throat, awash in inchoate epiphany. 

    

    Who better than a bunch of junior-high kids to understand how important it is that everyone has a place? 

    

    A place for lunch.

    A place to belong.