On Tuesday, a little part of me almost gave up. I wanted to walk away, to hide, to forget everything. Maybe I could run so far and so fast that I could forget the world that burned around me.
I wept. I mourned and more than half a nation mourned with me.
On Wednesday, I climbed from my bed. I showered, and dressed, and watched the sun rise over Lake Michigan.
Then, I went to my classroom and I sat with my students. I dismissed the day’s work and instead we sought out moments of happiness and light. We found examples of people creating amazing things, and we spent the hour talking with each other with respect and care.
I cannot save the world, but I can fight for a small section of it. I cannot stop ignorance and hate, but I can teach, and write, and speak. I cannot stop bad things from happening to innocent people, but I can offer love to those around me.
I could not stop what has happened, but I can stand, in my own way, against regimes of ingnorance and hate.
In these moments, it is easy to feel alone. It is ...