Who's the adult here?

Two weeks ago a troubled and troubling student cussed at a young colleague of mine. The teacher, not yet 100 days into her career in education, responded as the adult: calmly, responsibly. The incident was de-escalated, the student was escorted to the office, and learning was restored to the classroom.

When the teacher met with me an hour later, she processed the episode: why the student had lashed out, how to smooth the class's frayed edges after such conflict, ways to manage her own hurt feelings.  In other words, she handled the confrontation with maturity.

"The ability to manage your emotions and remain calm under pressure has a direct link to your performance," says columnist Travis Bradberry Forbes Magazine article titled "How Successful People Stay Calm," reminding me of the mantra: The one who is calm is the one in control. 

My co-worker's  incident was fresh in my mind when later that day I read about Donald Trump's Twitter attack on Chuck Jones, the union leader representing Carrier workers. Jones had challenged Trump's depiction of saving jobs in Indiana by saying Trump had "lied his ass off." 

Trump, in response, used a firehose to put out a birthday candle. He took to Twitter to blast Jones for having "done a terrible job of representing workers." His next Tweet blamed the Union for the job drain to Mexico.

What's happening here? According to presidential historian Robert Dallek, Trump's response was "beneath the dignity of the office." 

Perhaps even more worrisome is the chill cast by Trump's repeated failure to understand his role as adult-in-chief. Central to the definition of "bullying" is using imbalance of power to harm another. Or as Mirriam-Webster says in its definition of "bully": 

a blustering browbeating person; especially :  one habitually cruel to others who are weaker

This isn't to say that Jones's "lied his ass off" insult wasn't rude. It was. But it was also legitimate for Jones to call out Trump for what Jones said was false representation of the job save. (See "Democracy" and "First Amendment.")

But significant here is the imbalance of Trump's response, Tweeted to his 17 million followers, which then set off a deluge of "threats and other harassing calls" to Jones. 

Trump is poised to take the most powerful position in our country. He has now outsized all of the kids in the sandbox. He doesn't get to play here anymore, and he certainly doesn't get to throw sand. Trump has the biggest pulpit in the world. His insults are amplified to a roar--which is why we expect a president to be measured, thoughtful...adult.

And this brings me back to my young colleague. As teachers we are constantly weighing our imbalance of power. We out-size our students with our age, education, positions of authority. When confronted with make-us-mad moments, we are called upon to be the ones in control.

If America's teachers can refrain from lashing out in anger against those who might insult us, I'd like the president to hold himself to as high a standard.

If my 23-year-old colleague can do it, so can Trump.

Fact, False Claim, or Opinion? A Beginner's Guide for Students and the President

On Sunday, as I planned for the teaching of "Animal Farm" by George Orwell, Mike Pence was interviewed on ABC's This Week, where he painfully attempted to soften Trump's false claim that millions of people voted illegally in California by saying "it's [Trump's] right to express his opinion."

WAIT! I shouted at my computer screen. "You're confusing 'opinion' and 'false claim'!" As an English teacher, I shout at the computer frequently: "Shakespeare didn't say that!" or "Cite your sources!"

A 14-year-old in an intro debate class knows that Trump's tweet "I won the popular vote if you deduct the millions of people who voted illegally" is not an opinion. "I should have won the popular vote," or even "Too many people vote illegally" are opinions. They carry markers of opinion (should, too many). An opinion is a statement of attitude or self-report, according to this very helpful handout prepared by Dr. Bruce Murray, associate professor of Reading Education at Auburn University.

Trump's Tweet is not an opinion. Nor is it fact (statement about the real world supported by convergent evidence). It is a FALSE CLAIM. That is, it is a "statement about the real world, refuted by the evidence" (Murray). Here is a cogent distillation of that evidence by New York Times election writer Nate Cohen.

When Mike Pence and others defend Trump's outlandish false claims by mislabeling them "opinion," they are distorting meaning in an intentionally misleading way. Consider how labeling false claims as opinion would roll out in a classroom:

Suzy: "There's no school tomorrow!" (false claim)

Teacher: "You have a right to your opinion." (????)

or

Johnny: "The Declaration of Independence was signed by Elvis Presley and Mickey Mouse." (false claim)

Teacher: "You have a right to your opinion." (????)

No. It doesn't work that way. When information is presented as fact (a statement about the real world) but is not true (refuted by the evidence) that is not opinion. It is false claim. In school lingo, we say "That is incorrect." 

And this brings me back to teaching Orwell during the transition to the Trump presidency. Central to Orwell's dystopian "1984" and his cautionary allegory "Animal Farm" is the idea that language matters. What we say--particularly when said from positions of authority or through avenues of wide reach--influences what people believe to be true. 

That is, language manipulation twists thinking. Hence "War is peace / freedom is slavery / ignorance is strength." If those words don't send a chill up your spine as we careen toward a reality in which we consider all things said as equally valid, please read or re-read "1984" today. And while you're at it, you should buy a copy for every Christmas stocking you plan to stuff. That's my opinion.

New Normal - Dec. 2, 2016

Last week my freshmen wrote 100-word rants on topics ranging from wet grass and nothing rhyming with orange, to the trouble with little brothers and disappointment in J.K. Rowling's "The Cursed Child."

It was a one-class period assignment, a chance to review ethos, logos and pathos while practicing a little word crafting.

But several of the rants highlighted a change I've seen in students since returning to the classroom 13 years ago. 

Consider this: 

I’ll be nice, but seriously people. Stop. Do you really HAVE to scream about how scared you were the whole plane ride because you were sitting across from Muslims (personal experience)? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?? Everyone has their opinions, but get a grip. You’re just trying to look holier than everyone else. I’m a teenager. I’m definitely not holy like you supposedly are. Teen years are when you SHOULD question your beliefs and who you are. I’m not sure what I believe in. But I know I believe no one’s that holy, so please step off your heavenly pedestal.

And this:

Seriously, let other people be different. You are probably not the coolest person, even if you think you are. Not everyone needs to be like you or have a specific religion or be a specific race or like the same music as you do. People can be different, it’s not a crime. You don’t need to say that just because someone has a different religion that they’re wrong. One of my friends did this when I told them my dad has a friend who is Jewish. You should just accept people for their differences.

And then this:

I’m a normal teenage who is still trying to figure out who/what he is, but that doesn’t make it okay to assume someone's sexuality.  I have, throughout my fifteen years of wisdom, have had many people ask me if I was gay.  It’s not right. Even if I was gay what would make you think you could just come up to a random guy and ask them if they were gay. NOTHING! Someone’s sexuality isn’t any of your business. So therefore just stay out of other people’s personal life and get to know them before you ask something like that.

What I see here is a welcome "new normal." Students are more willing to speak up on issues of acceptance and inclusion--of others and of themselves. 

I've been thinking about "new normal" this week as the media struggles with effective ways to respond to fake news and Tweets from a president-elect who "does not wage political war with facts and figures [but rather] fights his battles by sowing confusion and spreading misinformation." (Brett Edkins, writing in Forbes Magazine.) 

Sample some headlines:

Welcome to Washington’s new normal: One Trump drama after another (Washington Post)

A new normal in journalism for the age of Trump (Columbia Journalism Review)

Future of Affordable Care Act (Week 1): Assessing New Normal (National Law Review)

I want to resist the co-opting of the phrase "New Normal" as code for disregard for honesty, intentional antagonizing through name-calling, and dismissal of rights guaranteed by our constitution. 

The young people I work with each day remind me that our "New Normal" can also mean giving voice to the attacked, speaking up against bigotry, and accepting ourselves and each other as worthy of respect and kindness.

That's a new normal I can get behind.