Inaugural guilt

I was overwhelmed with terrible guilt on my way to school this morning. I didn't make it to any inauguration festivities over the weekend, despite living just 20 miles away. I was wondering if I'd be kicking myself 20 years from now that I was missing the inauguration itself, too.

"A celebration like none other," one NPR commentator said.

"The energy is palpable," said another.

"I should've skipped school," I thought.

Then, as I was sitting at my desk, trying to figure out what to do with another day of shortened classes (seriously, there wasn't even any snow this time), it hit me. Instead of wallowing in self-pity or guilt, I'd turn today's history into a life lesson.

In my English 10 classes today, my students wrote letters to the president. I showed them how to write a respectful letter, even when writing to disagree or complain. I explained that part of their duty of living in a free country is using the skills we learn in English class to communicate with those in power.

Inevitably, this assignment was greeted with a few of those expected questions, which were followed by my less-than-appreciated questions and replies:

"Can I write to McCain instead?"
"Is he the president?"

"I can't vote. Do I have to do this?"
"Do you live in this country?"

"I don't feel strongly about any issues."
"Then write about the problem of apathy among America's youth."

"If this is a free country, I'm deciding not to write this letter."
"Ah, but this classroom is a benevolent dictatorship. Write."

Overall, I was quite pleased with the care and concern with which my sophomores wrote to the new president. The spirit and excitement they showed while exercising their democracy more than made up for the fact that I wasn't among the 2 million frozen bodies on the Mall today. Even if they didn't agree with our new president, my students still wrote with the expectation that their voices will be heard. I can't think of a better way to celebrate today's historic change.