William Bolt was my two-times great grandfather. An adventurous spirit, as a young man in the late 1880s he traveled back and forth from St. Louis, Missouri to Laramie, Wyoming with his cousin Harry to work as sheep shearers. Lucky for me, his passion for storytelling compelled him to keep a detailed journal of his escapades – most notably falling in love with my two-times great grandmother, Mollie King.

I caught my breath when I came across his entries about one of my favorite places in the world, Lake Tahoe. His descriptions of the early days of Reno, Truckee and Lake Tahoe made my heart swell; what a tremendous gift to know we walk the same path. I now know for sure that there’s a special reason the Universe calls us there so often. I’m sharing an excerpt from his journal; sometime soon, I will flesh out his stories for all to enjoy.

 Winter, 1883

We are climbing the Sierra Nevada mountains. I ride most of the time on top of the freight cars. We stop for a long time at Reno, a rough town. Harry and I leave the train at Truckee. Smith goes on to California to spend the winter with relatives. Harry heard we could get a job of early shearing near Lake Tahoe. We stayed around Truckee a couple of days, a sort of a lumber camp of saloons and gambling houses and I could always see a bunch of Indians and white men sitting on the ground gambling. The Truckee River runs through there, a raging torrent all the way from Lake Tahoe. I seen some Indian women fishing. I went to them – they had a fire of only a couple of sticks and they catch a fish, hold it over the fire a minute, then give it to the little children. I seen them little two year old Indians eat the fish just the way it was and the only thing they threw away was the head and tail.

Harry had arranged with the stage driver to take us up to Lake Tahoe which is about 15 or 20 miles away. We could always count on Harry to plan everything without trouble or expense. He had a way of talking to everybody and always made friends and we always traveled as workers. We rode on top of the stage up through the mountains to the lake. The scenery was grand. Where we wanted to go was about six miles from headquarters – a yacht was going to our landing that took the mail and of course, Harry had him take us and our big roll of blankets. It was a grand ride. Lake Tahoe is so large you can scarcely see across it and they say there is no bottom. The Indians are afraid to go on it because if you went down you never came up – even the wood goes to the bottom. I can see a stack of wood laying on the bottom . The water is so clear we can see to a great depth.

When we got to our landing we found out there was no shearing to be done. The owner of the camp would like us to work for him. Harry told him we would stay a few days and work for our expenses. Our job was snaking in logs and we lived with the timber men. The fishing is very fine. We just go out a few short distance from shore in a boat and drop a hundred foot line and catch Speckled Mountain trout.

The time came to take the yacht back again. Sailing in a yacht was new to us – it was very grand on that beautiful lake on top of the mountains, then the stage ride back to Truckee.

This post was inspired by The Mapmaker’s Children by Sarah McCoy, a novel about two women are connected by an Underground Railroad doll. Join From Left to Write on May 19th as we discuss The Mapmaker’s Children. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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I’m sitting in my study on an overcast Monday morning.  The sun came up a while ago, but went unnoticed by me as I busily wrote in my new journal, sketching out writing goals for 2013 along with ideas, hopes and worries.  I’m trying to move forward, you see.

As I covered the fresh, lined pages with scribbles, clusters and words coming from deep inside, the pre-inaugural images played alongside, just intriguing enough to catch my attention occasionally.  I watch video from FDR, Reagan and Obama’s past inaugural addresses, and  the words, “We have nothing to fear but fear itself” catch my ear, just enough to cause me to leave my dreams and listen more intently.  JFK flashes, his memorable, “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.”

And then President Obama, reminding us that, “This is the price and the promise of citizenship. This is the source of our confidence. The knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny. This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed, why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent mall, and why a man, whose father less than 60 years ago might not have been served in a local restaurant, can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.”

These great statements came from men of differing backgrounds, political parties, races and religions.  While they varied greatly in their presidencies, they all share the common message of ordinary, everyday courage.  I drift away from my own goals, and begin to toss this idea around in my mind.

As today’s American parents, we grew up in the shadow of these words.  We trust our children will be safe and return to us as they leave the house each day.  We agonize over how to handle their failures and successes in order to nurture them into compassionate, confident human beings.  We work hard and try to make good choices to steer our children in the right direction.

Daily, we ask our children to do their best.  We ask them to go to school, follow the rules, and face down peer pressure.  We believe they will handle puberty, relationships, and their sexuality with maturity.  We expect they will work with all teachers, complete projects and assignments with above-average scores, and show their inner warriors on sports teams.  They will go to college, graduate and have a career.

And the dreamers – the writers, the musicians, the artists that enhance and elevate our thinking through their imaginations.  We are in awe of those spirits who have the audacity to believe that someone else will listen to them, read their words, or look at their dreams as they lay them before us in all their unprotected glory.

As I walked Capitol Mall in 2012 for the first time in my life, images from history books swirled through my mind. I became lost in the stories, the events, and the courage of so many men and women who had stood precisely in my location.  Their stories are not all famous, and many have gone unknown amidst the pomp and circumstance of our nation.  As I gazed up at the MLK Memorial and read the inscriptions of hope, I realized that they are all there with me, really.  Their desires to live and die for their convictions.  Their courage in the face of unknown consequences.  Their belief of living in the present, and their audacity to hope that somehow, their very existence in this world could bring change and move us forward as a country and a people.

Turning back to the news, I realize I haven’t missed much.  The rituals continue, the reporters recall each move of everyone-who-is-anyone in Washington.  The people along the parade route cheer, wave, and smile as they catch a glimpse of the President as he drives by. This time, they vow, we were not going to miss it.  We will do whatever it takes to be a part of history.

What I think they’re missing is that they already are.  Kids, parents, and dreamers who line the Mall today are not only the past, but also the future.  FDR, JFK, MLK and Obama are simply the embodiment of the collective courage of America.  They are one of billions who walk out their door each day and face extraordinary, everyday courage.  It is what we have in common, and what will move us forward as a country.

Have courage.  Do what Martin Luther King Jr. asked, and remember, “There comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must take it because conscience tells him it is right.”

Have courage.  Make history.  Move forward.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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Some days I wish for that machine from ‘Back To The Future’ – the one where I could climb in and time travel backwards.  In the movie, Marty McFly found himself thirty years back in 1955, smack in the middle of his parent’s romance.

Mainly, I’d travel back to beautiful places I’ve been in my life. I’d love the convenience of pushing a button and finding myself in a new location.  If I felt like great adventures, I’d go to Nicaragua.  For youthful abandon, I’d wake up in a hostel in Amsterdam.  Missing my childhood pen pal? I’d go back to Yorkshire, England.  Nostalgia for family who have passed on would send me back to Sherman Oaks, California.  A yearning for academic stimulation would find me in Berkeley.

Today I want to jump in with Marty and travel back to the place where generations of my family have landed before me.  I want to walk on the soft white sand towards the lone Cyprus.  I want to climb over to Bird Rock and peek into the Whaler’s Cabin at Point Lobos.  I want to climb Hawk Tower and stare into the Pacific, imagining Jeffer’s view from the early 1900s.  I want to watch my babies bury themselves in the sand of the Bird Sanctuary Beach and giggle as they wiggle their toes free.

Then tomorrow I’ll be back in 2012, immersed in life as I know it today. I’ll be driving from mountain to mountain, cheering my children as they catapult down the ski run.  I’ll be packing lunches and loading skis, grading papers and doing laundry, unloading groceries and washing dishes.

But just for today, could you open the door and let me have a moment just for me?

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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I was just barely three years old when Martin Luther King Jr. was killed.  That makes my life one that has really never had a first hands understanding of what his struggle was like.  I have never known a time when there wasn’t such a thing as the Civil Rights Movement.  I have never seen ‘separate but equal’.  I have never seen signs for ‘coloreds’ or ‘whites’.  I have never known a world when I couldn’t have black friends, go to school alongside black schoolmates, or date a black man.

That’s not to say that MLK’s dreams of a day when ‘children will be judged not by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character’ plays true in every part of our American society, let alone our world.

But what it does say is what Martin Luther King Jr. means to me.

1.  History

With his death, I learned not to let history repeat itself.  I will not live my life allowing others to demean or discriminate based on race, sex, religion, sexual preference or any other criteria.

2.  Family

After MLK Jr. died, his daughter Yolanda began the crusade to keep his legacy alive.  Much of what he stood for revolved around his dreams for his family.  He taught them well – Yolanda’s dream of a national holiday in honor of his father is the reason we celebrate today.

3.  Service

Martin Luther King Jr. was a man who served his country.  Not every man or woman serves the same way, for the same reasons.  MLK taught me to work for social justice and to carry that value on to my children, and the children I serve every day in the classroom.

4.  Opportunity

As a white woman I have never experienced racial discrimination.  I can only imagine the incredible frustration and anger one must feel when denied opportunity due to the color of one’s skin.  Because of MLK opportunities were opened for those who never imagined they would.

5.  Wisdom

MLK made people think.  He made people act.  He made people remember him.  He made people wiser.

6.  Education

Before MLK education was not equal.  Black children were held hostage due to lack of equal access to knowledge.  Students were empowered to act and demand the right to the same quality of schooling being given to whites. Now, other underrepresented groups are standing up to be heard.

7.  Hope

Martin Luther King showed the world that if you dream it, you can become it.  He provided hope for minorities, women, men and children who knew that they could be better, could do better, could live better than they were.

So today, as we honor a man who truly inspired a nation and influenced generations to come, please pause and think of what Martin Luther King Jr. means to you.  Give thanks for his life and vision and lessons of peaceful protest.  And, if you can, try to imagine what our world would be like had he never held fast to his dreams.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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Sometimes I wonder how California is going to pull our education system out of the deep dark abyss we have been hiding in for the last several years. When I first started teaching in 1990, I thought I was working in the most exciting, progressive career I could imagine, in the most forward thinking state I could live in.

As time has passed, I have changed my way of thinking. Year by year I have seen my class sizes get larger, the students need more attention to skills, and the number of preps increase. NCLB’s focus on standards dramatically changed the focus of many districts towards test taking achievement and away from critical thinking.

Last weekend’s headline in the Sacramento Bee, “Gay History To Hit Classrooms In January”, however, made me feel proud of being an educator and citizen of California.

I was born during the Civil Rights movement and just a little girl when women were fighting for their liberation. In a multi-racial and multi-lingual state like California, emphasis often is put on creating a multicultural, diverse curriculum to meet the needs of all students and ensure equal representation. We teach our students to use appropriate, politically correct terminology and to have tolerance for all people, regardless of race, religion or sexual orientation. However, very few districts have put any sort of emphasis on the latter. To me, the taboo of speaking about sexual orientation is as antiquated as the pre-Civil Rights era when segregation was commonplace.

Just as when blacks were being lynched and attacked for the genetic make-up of their skin pigment, teens and adults today are experiencing discrimination, torture, beatings and death for their inborn sexual orientation. Just as we learned not to judge people for the color of their skin, we will now be able to show the content of all people’s character, regardless of what gender they choose to love.

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I don’t for a minute think that the passage of this law will suddenly create a ‘gay pride’ unit in many school districts. Nor do I believe that teaching about gay history will change any heterosexual teen’s sexual orientation. State education leaders and school districts will carefully and deliberately work to construct frameworks and lesson plans to objectively include, not purposefully disclude, this element of our society.

What I do believe is that this law will allow age-appropriate lessons that will humanize gays, hopefully creating a more harmonious society for our children to grow up in. I do believe in inclusion over exclusion. I do believe that by bestowing value on all people we help to lift them up, which in turn can only bring us all to a higher place.

What do you think? Do you agree with the new legislation? Or do you want to keep things ‘old school’?

Me? I’m proud to be a Californian today.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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