2. When someone asks me what I’m
passionate about, I almost-always
say books. Or writing. Or the greater
population of this country learning
proper grammar. But, “their, there,
and they’re” isn’t the only lesson I
want my students to learn.
3. What if I told them about injustice. Would
their hearts beat faster? Or stronger? What
about hate? Would their eyes open wider?
But would I even need to teach them at all?
What if that hate. What if that injustice: was
their neighbor. Their brother. Their coach.
Their friend. They log onto CNN and see kids
their age Starving. Killing. Fighting. Dying.
old them about injustice. Would their
4. Or they walk home from school,
scared of the sidewalk, of the gangs,
or the drugs, or their homes. Or
maybe they’re gay. Or black or white
or brown. Or male or female, or just
can’t decide. What if they knew that
like is much tougher with clenched
fists and hard faces?
5. Or if they realized that their hands
would be better used as picket sign
holders, or writers of legislation,
reporters of news, deliverers of babies.
Not makers of bruises, or heartache, or
pain. What if they realized that their
lips, and their tongues, and their words
could be used for life. For good. For
hope. & For change.
6. What if they think there’s no possible
way. But what if, they realized their
part: Their hate. Their past. Their
prejudice. I wonder if they’re scared? I
would tell them “It’s okay” and “it’s
safe here.” I would beg them to fight
for good, yell for injustice, and
perhaps, no absolutely, find their
unique, distinct, undeniably
recognizable, and powerful: Voice.
7. Now I do hope too that they learned
“their, there, and they’re” because I’
m already ready to move on to “your,
and you’re.”
