There are three immense, looming obstacles to financial security I have been observing the people I work with bump into. One of them is student loan debt. It not only messes up credit in ways that can seem hopeless, but it prevents them from going back to school, the very thing that supposedly will help them over the poverty line.
Somehow I found myself at this article. It is a story that weaves elements from those of people I work with. It also, with one twist of choice and a different demographic or two, would be my story. Which may be why I had the urge to cry when I read it.
It is another tale from the neverending story of girls from low socioeconomic brackets and minority groups, clawing their way up from the bottom of the pile while the rest of us think we are "helping."
"They just need an education" is second only to "why don't they just get a job" on my "Most Irritating Things People Say to Try to Fix Poor Women" list.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Transcending Talent
Lots of giggling, talking freshmen surrounded me in the auditorium. Good kids, basically, but inconsiderate as freshmen can be. Mine sat quietly in the second row. Next to an odd girl that no one else wanted to associate with.
Lots of pretty but over-done girls wearing ultra short shirts. Mine wore her hair down and just washed and brushed, no make-up, flared knee length skirt, all grey white and black.
Lots of girls singing popular songs. Mine would be the only one to play a classic instrumental solo.
As the time for her to play her violin drew near, weirdly, a panic climbed from my chest to my throat, threatening to choke me. What if she bombs this, poor thing? What if people laugh at her or think it's odd that she's playing this piece? And the violin? And that she didn't spend hours primping?And that she's not wearing a black mini skirt in size 3T? Do people like her? Is there a strange connection between maternal instinct and high-school survival instinct that conjured this succession of irrational thoughts? Something about the way she was about to make herself vulnerable at a high school talent show reached in and dragged this nonsense out.
She arrived on stage, fussing the way violinists do before they play, due to the touchiness of an instrument that can never be counted upon to stay in tune. It seemed like a long time, too long, too pregnant with possibilities of bad things to happen, until one of her loyal and dear friends called out, "Go Molly!" A round of clapping and whistling flared up briefly. The clapping died as the lights dimmed.
She sat on a lone chair in the middle of the stage, spotlight shining on her blonde head. Her long arm drew the bow across the first note of Meditation from Thais and the atmosphere of the room transformed. You could have heard a pin drop in the audience. She played gorgeously, expressively, causing the strings to whisper and sing and cry. No freshman laughed or talked during this performance. I willed myself to tear my eyes away from her to sneak a peak at the formerly goofing-off kids and noted that all eyes were on her. I took a look in the other direction to see adults swaying, eyes closed...enchanted?
As soon as her arm stilled with the whispers of the last note fading, the audience erupted into whistling and clapping and shouts of her name. She flashed a pleased grin, stood, and disappeared behind the curtain.
Lots of pretty but over-done girls wearing ultra short shirts. Mine wore her hair down and just washed and brushed, no make-up, flared knee length skirt, all grey white and black.
Lots of girls singing popular songs. Mine would be the only one to play a classic instrumental solo.
As the time for her to play her violin drew near, weirdly, a panic climbed from my chest to my throat, threatening to choke me. What if she bombs this, poor thing? What if people laugh at her or think it's odd that she's playing this piece? And the violin? And that she didn't spend hours primping?And that she's not wearing a black mini skirt in size 3T? Do people like her? Is there a strange connection between maternal instinct and high-school survival instinct that conjured this succession of irrational thoughts? Something about the way she was about to make herself vulnerable at a high school talent show reached in and dragged this nonsense out.
She arrived on stage, fussing the way violinists do before they play, due to the touchiness of an instrument that can never be counted upon to stay in tune. It seemed like a long time, too long, too pregnant with possibilities of bad things to happen, until one of her loyal and dear friends called out, "Go Molly!" A round of clapping and whistling flared up briefly. The clapping died as the lights dimmed.
She sat on a lone chair in the middle of the stage, spotlight shining on her blonde head. Her long arm drew the bow across the first note of Meditation from Thais and the atmosphere of the room transformed. You could have heard a pin drop in the audience. She played gorgeously, expressively, causing the strings to whisper and sing and cry. No freshman laughed or talked during this performance. I willed myself to tear my eyes away from her to sneak a peak at the formerly goofing-off kids and noted that all eyes were on her. I took a look in the other direction to see adults swaying, eyes closed...enchanted?
As soon as her arm stilled with the whispers of the last note fading, the audience erupted into whistling and clapping and shouts of her name. She flashed a pleased grin, stood, and disappeared behind the curtain.
Friday, March 1, 2013
Sapphira and Me
Ananias and Sapphira. Don't they just have the worst reputation in Christian circles?! What deceivers, deliberately lying (to God!) about the price of the property they sold. Clearly the moral of that story is that you should not lie about what you are giving to God. It's a shame they wound up dead. Tsk, tsk.
It's a wonder, then, that I am walking around. Don't I want to be part of radical, amazing work? Don't I want to give it all? And don't I always keep back a little bit for insurance. I mean, what if God really can't be trusted? If the sacrificial living thing turns out to be a bust... might be nice to have a Plan B.
Obviously, I am alive to blog about this. But I probably err if I think I am off the hook - Jesus said in order to find your life you first have to lose it. Is that why so many of us are trying to find ourselves? Is that why despite our unprecedented material excess and physical comfort we are dissatisfied and depressed and searching? The joy that goes with surrender, with giving ourselves to the common cause, apparently cannot be replicated unless all chips are cashed in - maybe that's the loss we experience.
It strikes me that in fighting poverty, in building community, no progress is made if people do not unite across divides. Left and right. Black and white. Protestant and Catholic. Government and the people. Rich and poor. It is one thing to approach a school board about ridiculous bus policies on behalf of clients or "the poor." It is entirely different if my kid is affected by those bus policies - I problem solve on a whole other level with a helluva lot more energy. Until I process, internalize, and accept who my neighbor is, I will never be able to truly build community, or the kingdom of God.
I suspect that it will always be part of human struggle to make decisions balancing what is best for us personally and what is best for the common good. (Most of us) vaccinate our children, but (most of us) send our children to the best schools we possibly can. I confess that I have never put a child of mine in the worst-performing school in the area in order to be better able to promote change there. And I probably never will. (And that was not a statement inviting argument or defense of that). I have bought property in a blighted neighborhood in hopes of being an agent of change there, and in the end sold that house with an exhausted sigh of relief, never to live in a city again (until - now?). That seems a failed experiment on many, many levels. I kept a job when I no longer believed the organization was working for the best interests of people it served because I knew it was a good paycheck. My fingers are clutched around so many things. I want to let go. I may never be able to, and I do so with the knowledge that my hands will never be free until I do.
None of that is said to judge anyone. It is statement of my reality; I need to acknowledge what is in my own heart. And I think that's the point. I can't lie, and that starts with to myself. I can't pretend to be a better person than I am if I want to be who I was meant to become.
It's a wonder, then, that I am walking around. Don't I want to be part of radical, amazing work? Don't I want to give it all? And don't I always keep back a little bit for insurance. I mean, what if God really can't be trusted? If the sacrificial living thing turns out to be a bust... might be nice to have a Plan B.
Obviously, I am alive to blog about this. But I probably err if I think I am off the hook - Jesus said in order to find your life you first have to lose it. Is that why so many of us are trying to find ourselves? Is that why despite our unprecedented material excess and physical comfort we are dissatisfied and depressed and searching? The joy that goes with surrender, with giving ourselves to the common cause, apparently cannot be replicated unless all chips are cashed in - maybe that's the loss we experience.
It strikes me that in fighting poverty, in building community, no progress is made if people do not unite across divides. Left and right. Black and white. Protestant and Catholic. Government and the people. Rich and poor. It is one thing to approach a school board about ridiculous bus policies on behalf of clients or "the poor." It is entirely different if my kid is affected by those bus policies - I problem solve on a whole other level with a helluva lot more energy. Until I process, internalize, and accept who my neighbor is, I will never be able to truly build community, or the kingdom of God.
I suspect that it will always be part of human struggle to make decisions balancing what is best for us personally and what is best for the common good. (Most of us) vaccinate our children, but (most of us) send our children to the best schools we possibly can. I confess that I have never put a child of mine in the worst-performing school in the area in order to be better able to promote change there. And I probably never will. (And that was not a statement inviting argument or defense of that). I have bought property in a blighted neighborhood in hopes of being an agent of change there, and in the end sold that house with an exhausted sigh of relief, never to live in a city again (until - now?). That seems a failed experiment on many, many levels. I kept a job when I no longer believed the organization was working for the best interests of people it served because I knew it was a good paycheck. My fingers are clutched around so many things. I want to let go. I may never be able to, and I do so with the knowledge that my hands will never be free until I do.
None of that is said to judge anyone. It is statement of my reality; I need to acknowledge what is in my own heart. And I think that's the point. I can't lie, and that starts with to myself. I can't pretend to be a better person than I am if I want to be who I was meant to become.
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