A Day In The Life: A Trip To The U.S. Capitol

Being a teacher is absolutely the best vocation on the planet. I selected this word wisely: it's not a career, and it certainly is not a job -- It's a calling. Some have it, and some don't. And there's hardly anything more painful than watching someone who doesn't have the gift attempt to make a career out of it. That said, I am so blessed to have been born with this job as my vocation. I didn't see it until I was a senior in college. It found me. How amazing is that?

And as a result, among the myriad of incredible opportun- ities this fact has afforded me over the years, I was privileged on this past Tuesday to chaperone a group of our fifth graders on a field trip to the United States Capitol. Here, milling about waiting to begin our trek from the bus drop off site to the entrance of the new multi-million dollar visitor center located on the polar opposite end of the sprawling campus of the Capitol is the very future of our Republic. Citizens born a scant 11/12 years ago who have only know two political realities: Republican equals Bush, and Democrat equals Obama. It is not strange to them that our nation has elected a Black President, anymore than he has nominated to the Supreme court of the land one woman after another. And they know what our nation's founders went through to create our form of governance (the docent is about to find this out!), so that it's more perfect fruition in their short life spans doesn't seem anything more than ordinary. A fact that I find amazing.

In the beginning of our tour, we were all processed through metal detectors and conveyor belts with x-ray machines that exposed our bags, the contents of our pockets, and irradiated our belts to the vigilant eyes of a security guard. It was a process overall made efficient by familiarity. And yet one student had trouble navigating it. Brandon E. who's family only moved here a little over a year ago from the northern and more strife filled region of the Cameroon. The alarms were repeatedly set off because he was not able to remove a silver wallet fob that was attached to a belt loop on his black dress trousers.

As all of the other students collected on the interior balcony of the guest center, I noticed his absence and then went to his aid. He, of all of our students, came most prepared to pay respect to his new and adopted nation by donning black slacks, a white long-sleeved dress shirt, and a tie. By the time, I got to him, he'd failed his 3rd pass through the machinery of liberty and was nearly frantic in his attempts to disentangle the metal chain from his pants. Opposing him and monitoring the machine were three tall, fit; and otherwise pedestrian, African American guards. As they passed glances between themselves, I could see that they understood how scared Brandon had become. Then suddenly, by some miracle of magnetism, he made it through the arch on the fourth passing without setting off the alarm. I met him and assured him that it was all okay as he fiddled to return his belt to his waste. The rest of the trip found him nearby me. Happy-go-lucky as usual, but definitely clinging. This is what in loco parentis means, this is what it looks like.

Once assigned a docent, we traipsed into the theater and experienced a 18 min film of unbridled patriotic rhetoric -- which I enjoyed.

Afterwards, he led us into the main concourse beneath the massive iron dome of the Capitol. He parked us beneath this painting and began a long presentation about the history of the building and the meaning of the statues, murals and paintings in the room. With each question, our students had the answer. At one point he stopped dumbfounded and declared, "I hope you hold on to this information. I just led a group of 8th graders through here, and they didn't know any of this!" The question that prompted this observation was "What does e pluribus unim mean?" And after he'd said his piece, several of our students pointed out that we'd just been told this during the video presentation that we'd just left. I'm sure they thought, "How dumb are 8th graders who can't remember something they've been told for a span of 10 minutes!"

One fact that our docent planted firmly in our minds was the image painted upon the interior crown of the dome of George Washington being assumed into heaven surrounded by 13 muses representing the 13 original colonies. What an ultimate bow to neo-classicism. And the kids got it, knew about it, told the docent things about it to his own chagrin. For his part, he probably taught some of them the meaning of the word "apotheosis".

We ended the official tour in the crypt, where our students continued to pelt the poor docent with probing and challenging questions. And don't mis- understand, he was a very knowledgeable guy. But our kids asked very challenging questions, like, "Is the majority of the mythology represented here Greek or Roman?"

I love these kids, I really do. And I am want if I do not conclude this little post with the idea that in the past 10 years, we've upped the educational ante by setting ever higher and higher bars of expectation and accomplishment. It's been tough. But kids have, en masse, responded by knowing more and doing more than members of my generation were ever expected to let alone did in such solid percentages.