A completely emotional and all-too-female war protest

This was written yesterday, 9/11/07.

My feelings about this are so strong they will take a while to process, but I’m doing a brain dump of the preliminary feelings now, in part because I know deep down that I may never come back. This is actually very hard.

Saw Cameron today. I love Cameron. Cameron was one of my favorite students by the end of last school year, but I really intensely dreaded 5th period the entire fall semester last year in part because of Cameron.

Cameron almost didn’t graduate because he had a 42 in my class at the first semester. He pulled his grade up to passing, 70, by the end of the year because he was dying to join the Marine Corps. He did it. I was very proud of his work in my class second semester.

Today I was walking toward the front office on my first planning period of the day (which doesn’t come until 6th period, Argh!) I started seething inside because I saw military uniforms in the vicinity of the assistant principal’s office. I always seethe like this when I see military uniforms in what is supposed to be an institution of learning.

The propaganda the recruiters leave behind on book covers, pens, sticky-notes, and posters is no better, and may actually be worse for being entirely one-way communication. No book cover ever has to address the questions, “Have you ever killed anyone?” or “What was it like to see your friends die?” All I could think was, “get away from these kids you predatory mother fuckers.” I braced myself to bury my feelings, and walked on.

But it wasn’t recruiters trying to turn my kids into cannon fodder for jet-ski money. It was Cameron and his Marine buddy.

Read the rest of this post on my blog.

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