The Fourth of July was a bittersweet holiday this year. The day before at a small-town store a husband told his wife that the dress she was considering made her look like a Democrat. That was worth pondering. The local parade crowd was silent when Republican candidates walked past, showed more enthusiasm when Democrats passed. Neither presidential candidate had a float or handed out materials.
The Supreme Court has determined that we vote to be kind of governed, or maybe ruled. Presidential politics are represented by two old men who could be advisors, definitely not candidates. Imposters are running for office in places where they don’t live. Folks throw tarantulas at the people they want to represent and seek election without the slightest idea of how to govern. It’s all about power these days.
I want my children and grandchildren to have the American life generations fought to build. We might have to fight for its return and hope the spirit of the veterans will be with those on the side of democracy. Stay strong. Happy birthday, United States.
American marine tank rolls through Garapan, capital of Saipan
I share your dismay! I’m truly worried about our future in a way I never have been before. I’m keeping Connie Schulz’s (Sherrod Brown’s wife) words in mind: “No one is coming to save us. It’s up to us to do the hard work of this democracy.“ I’m not sure what all that entails, but I’m committed to doing what I can.
The School for Adults teachers coaxed me to attend the Honors Program and General Education Diploma (GED) Graduation because I’m a volunteer tutor. I was somewhat reluctant since graduation usually means long speeches, uncomfortable seating, and potential boredom, but I’m glad I showed up. The pride of the students being honored touched me.
I followed the crowds of American-born and Spanish-speaking students and their families as they streamed in. All were dressed up—women in dresses and heels, men in fashionable clothes. In other families, the women wore special hijabs—dark colors embroidered with gold threads or embellished with gold sparkles along the cuffs. Everyone’s children wore their finery.
The place looked and sounded like a party—music played, a long table was laden with cupcakes and other sweets, and round tables were covered with pastel tablecloths ready for families to gather after the ceremony. I found a place at the back of the hall next to another tutor, a retired engineer from India who helps students with math.
My role is working one-on-one or with small groups to help adult learners improve their writing and reading comprehension. Some of the students are native English speakers who got off track and didn’t finish their high school degrees. Others are immigrants learning sufficient English so they can attend college or keep up with their children’s schoolwork. Some students have university degrees from their home countries but have to start over here with a GED. When I tutor students, I ask their goals, but I don’t ask why they dropped out of school or what their immigration status is.
I was pleased one of the GED graduates I know was a featured speaker. She’s in her early 20s and a native speaker, so her language skills are good. She didn’t need much from me–math was her nemesis. For four years she showed up, sitting quietly in the back when class met in person. During COVID, when classes and my tutoring went online, she was in and out of class, but she persisted.
Her speech was plainspoken but so heartfelt. Her pride in earning the GED, a milestone many of us take for granted, showed. Now, with the equivalent of a high school diploma, she plans to work full time to save money for college.
Another GED graduate I know is a woman from Sudan. Her written and spoken English are very good, she and was so skilled in math that she could have taught the class. I met with her once when she wanted an explanation of a writing assignment. She required a GED so she can pursue her dream of going to medical school.
A student speaker in his 30s spoke in heavily accented English about leaving Venezuela. He has a family and was established in his career, but political turbulence forced him and his family to leave. He spoke with passion about his gratitude for the opportunity America gave him. Now that he had his GED, he hopes to become an electrician and have his own business one day.
The majority of the students made level gains, meaning they advanced from basic to intermediate or from intermediate to advanced classes. Level gains merited a ribbon which students wore proudly. Their accomplishments are so hard won.
I am in awe of these students’ persistence. Their progress is slow. Many start and stop because they’ve changed jobs or don’t have daycare. Most don’t have time to do schoolwork at home. But week after week, year after year, they show up. I wonder how many of us who finished high school by 18, would work as hard to get a GED. The facts of their stories may sound ordinary, but for them, the diploma is life-changing.
So often I feel discouraged about the state of the world, but seeing the students’ pride and sheer joy in their accomplishments renewed my faith in humanity.
Love your ending. “So often I feel discouraged about the state of the world, but seeing the students’ pride and sheer joy in their accomplishments renewed my faith in humanity.” We don’t recognize accomplishments like this enough. It would be very easy to throw in the towel, good for these students!!!!
The GED is a wonderful US institution that demonstrates the need for multiple opportunities to access the opportunities that, for one reason or another, they lack. You make me want to volunteer! 🙂
Thanks, Karen! You have a wealth of knowledge to offer. The GED students may be different from what you’re used to — their attendance can be erratic because life often interferes.
Oh, I am well aware. In an earlier life, I “fostered” (not literally) several teen boys who, for a variety of reasons were not attached to schooling. GEDs saved them, even if they were erratic!
Debra
What a gift you have given them, and us. Thank you, Ellen, for sharing your story and theirs.
“I’m not a kid, anymore”, my son said. Why was I then having to cajole him into writing thank you cards? Isn’t that an adult thing? Jody and I had a gathering of up to fifty people to celebrate – and more importantly – to recognize his graduation from Dunwoody College of Technology.
Our son didn’t want a basket to be set out for cards. “It looks like I expect something, then,” he said.
He wore a hooded sweatshirt, graciously accepted the cards given to him, and slid the cards into his hoodie pocket. Later he transferred the cards to his cubby.
My son graduated from Dunwoody with honors. Earlier, I had pointed to his Cum Laude and Outstanding Attendance designation on the commencement program. “You did that,” I said. “Me and Mama Jody never once got you up for school. We never once asked you if you had class work to do. You did that.”
He looked pleased. “I know.”
But, to write a thank you card?
Ever since our son and daughter could hold a crayon, the expectation was to send thank you cards for birthday and holiday gifts. In some ways, it was easy for them. A thank you card is made of two halves. Our son would have one half and our daughter the other. They each would draw a picture displaying their own unique personality. Jody and I would address and mail the cards.
Juan balked at drawing a picture. “I’m not a kid, anymore.”
In retrospect, I probably should have expected his pushback sooner.
My son and daughter are members of the first social generation to have grown up with access to the Internet. They are labeled digital natives. Both consume digital information quickly and comfortably through electronic devices and platforms.
Where does that leave the digital immigrants? The grandparents, aunts and uncles, and family friends who grew up dominated by print before the advent of the Internet.
We would like a thank you card, and we would like our children to send thank you cards.
Is it enough for our children to say thank you in person when handed a card? I’m sure that my son did that. He is sociable, polite and courteous. I’m old-fashioned. I haven’t let go of the idea that the written word is important. Our son did end up sending thank you cards. He did the absolute bare minimum.
Will thank you cards, thank you texts, emails, etc. become antiquated? Will it be all thought, all energy driven? Appreciation transmitted without electronics. Mind to mind. A glow of light. If asked, the children will say that we are already there. It’s us digital immigrants that must catch up.
I am big on saying thank you and sending cards. Nothing beats getting that card from the mailbox, in your hand, slice it open and read how someone took time to appreciate.
I am with you in the ‘expectations of thanks’ camp. I like to receive cards and, therefore, I send cards — often of thanks, sometimes just to connect. Cards are tangible and can be kept in a keepsake box, thus extending the connection between the persons. I like all of that. I equally like / appreciate the super-speed of digital communication and — and this makes me hopelessly old fashioned, I’m sure — I will print and glue into my Daily Log those digital messages that are particularly meaningful to me.
Recent Posts
Hamburger Soup
A bowl of homemade soup could create a few minutes of comfort in this difficult winter of 2025-2026.
A few weeks ago, I visited Pearl Harbor and the USS Arizona memorial. I wasn’t sure what to expect. My father was in the Navy during WWII at Normandy and later in the Pacific. I wanted to honor his service and the legacy of my parents’ generation who sacrificed and died to preserve our democracy. I…
“Crystel’s carrying the dining room table out of the house!” Jody said, a note of panic in her voice. “Now the chairs!” Quietly, I felt proud of Crystel. She was going ahead with gumption, emptying our house while we were in Florida, not asking permission, not making a fuss. Jody kept tabs on the coming…
2 responses to “July Thoughts”
Thank you. A quiet whisper in the midst of our collective sadness.
I share your dismay! I’m truly worried about our future in a way I never have been before. I’m keeping Connie Schulz’s (Sherrod Brown’s wife) words in mind: “No one is coming to save us. It’s up to us to do the hard work of this democracy.“ I’m not sure what all that entails, but I’m committed to doing what I can.