"How do politics enter into your classroom?"

A while back, I had the opportunity to write to some concerned parties who saw my public Facebook page and were concerned that I might let my classroom be too strongly influenced by politics. Here's that letter minus their context, which is a story I don't know. I'm posting this here because it's worth reading, and because I don't want to fall silent if it matters. It's so easy to live thoughtlessly, I partly want this here to remind myself of what matters to me, and how politics should and should not enter into my classroom.

Dear ---,

Many thanks for the invitation to express myself more fully, in light of my more politically-framed posts online. I like to share in writing and I believe it’s one of the most thoughtful ways to convey ideas for posterity, so I wish to thoughtfully address how my politics, as it were, affect my teaching.

I believe a classroom is a sacred space for discovery. I do not see it as a place to clutter with my opinions; nor would I condone practices that discourage discussion. The podium at the front is no pulpit, and I would not presume to educate on my particular views of justice in the world. It is enough for me to present the sources and allow students time and space to talk together, to talk with you, to think, to pray, and then to write, when appropriate.

When research and argument are part of the middle school ELA curriculum, what I hope my students learn is the value of all sides of an issue. In a Language Arts class, our focus is not which side of the argument to take, but rather how to do justice to all sides, how to interpret texts and scan for bias, how to mediate multiple ideas. Instead of seeing an argument as warfare (gaining and losing ground, defeating or winning, enemies and allies, etc.), I would prefer that we treat it as a dance in which the participants must respect and keep in step with others to accomplish a greater thing.

On a more personal level, my ideas as to what makes a Christian an obedient Christian are constantly changing. I have never interpreted my Christian walk through the lens of a political party, and am even now registered as “Independent,” for better or for worse, because no party represents the incarnate Kingdom of God: that’s the work and the joy of the global Church!

I affirm the Anabaptist conclusion that we belong to no empire of the world before we belong to the Kingdom of God. As our forebears in faith, I have a strong suspicion of all things relating to the military, to nationalism, to charismatic dogma, and to any attempts at polarizing discourse on complicated issues. I cherish all life, and hope to be ever more loving. I cherish the poor and under-served of our society, people in prison, people without work, people who are sick; and I hope to be ever more cherishing.

My hope is that any participation I may have in discussions of politics will always be with the immeasurable grace with which God has dealt with me. Furthermore, I understand discussions of politics in the classroom require extra restraint from me (and all teachers, to be sure) to avoid taking advantage of the incredible power a teacher has to influence young minds. I’m humbled by the challenge.

I invite discussion, accountability, and correction within a diverse community of people trying to figure out how to love God without standing still. That’s how I will know Jesus better, and that’s what matters to me most.

All My Best,
Carolyn McKalips

There Will Be a Place For You

It was a promise I have held onto. It came from Carmen, who I have approached in the midst of many crises. Her magnanimity is inimitable.

This summer, I didn't know where I would live, but I knew that my church community and family would be able to make space for me. My friends on Plum Street let me stay there; my friends on Clay Street let me stay there; a few other places were possible. Carmen said as I returned from Morocco, "There will be a place for you."

A few weeks later, Sarah announced that she was moving down the street as a more permanent place to live (weddings were impending), and would I like my old room back? I said yes. The weddings didn't bother me; they seemed a long way away. But if we've spoken within the past four months, you know that wedding planning and weddings are what's been happening since August. Carmen's is under two weeks away.

The details will bore me now to write, but for a while I wondered if I would have to move out of Plum Street. Again, Carmen said it in a morning conversation, "There will be a place for you," with such confidence, like the eldest of three sisters that she is. When someone says it like that, you need to believe them.

A few other people I like were looking for roommates, but I hated the idea of moving all my things, which balloon up when I settle for more than a month, and I cherished a hope that there would be a person wanting to move here. I didn't have a second choice for a roommate, just the first choice, and she came to live here in January!

Change is always on the horizon. I want to at least believe the promise of a place for me, but I also want it to extend to you, and to people at their wit's end; to people returning from somewhere; to people estranged from loved ones. There will be a place for you. I pray it now, and proclaim it: there will be a place for you.

Broken Hearts Week

The year 2018 began with an inauspicious string of break-ups in my social circles. One after the other, one involving my heart, too, left me even more skeptical of love and commitment. I labeled it "Broken Hearts Week" on my digital calendar, and left it to repeat annually, hoping that one year would show a turned tide.

Without naming names, always my challenge here, I will express what I know to be true about the changed situations.

B. met an acquaintance a month after Broken Hearts Week, and they got married in November.

S. still wonders about the person she was so into, and why it never went further. Another relationship rose out of many doubts, then faltered in Broken Hearts Week.

R. has hope. The deep kind of hope that God pours into us, not merely the hope in a romantic interest.

M. and S. are getting a divorce.

H. and M., who had been dating for a few months, have parted ways forever, and M. is now engaged to a wonderful person. H. is off in another country pursuing a certification that is one step closer to her dream.

And I. I am learning about how to love as action, and how to put imperfect trust in a person who is imperfect like I am. I'm learning that relationships can be filled with laughter and growth.