In itself, Teach for America has been an experience that has changed me and my perception of the world. I have had the opportunity to meet and converse with intelligent and passionate individuals who hate to see the status quo maintained. These are the youth of America who are willing to put their life on hold to mend a problem of inequity and to do so with startling commitment. I trusted the individuals I will be working and living with moments after having met them. Despite differences, the commonality of our vision is powerful enough to eliminate the small talk that usually accompanies new friendships. The issues we discuss are deep and troubling, and yet we do not let them eliminate talk towards a solution, instead of talk that begrudgingly admits the problem is huge.
Today I had the opportunity to travel to the Houston Space Center. Exhausted from planning and teaching I had to convince myself to go, but will never regret the decision. Only hours after the experience, it is difficult for me to recall what was so enchanting about today, other than to say that for the few hours I was in the museum, I was allowed the luxury of again seeing the world through my child eyes. Although it may sound preposterous, what I saw in that building reminded me of the capability of man. Throughout college, I studied the worst of mankind and very little of the best. While there were notable individuals, I lost all faith that mankind as a whole can collaborate on any one thing, come together and develop something beautiful. Eight years under our current administration and what I know of men working together is war, conflict, fear, and hatred. What I know of mankind is the atomic bomb and the genocide in Africa. What I know of mankind stripped me bare of my idealism and faith that, as a species, we are capable of extraordinary beauty.
There is something about the moon project, about the dire human need to escape into space and explore unchartered territory that brought tears to my eyes. In one mission, thousands of our greatest minds come together to pre-plan for every possible disaster and to explore and discover new ideas. Forty years ago, the idea that men would land on the moon seemed ludicrous and many people doubted the reality of the dream. Kennedy pushed, though, and Nasa responded. The people who worked on the project believed that persistence could create something nobody had seen before, and in just a few short years, the voyage to the moon was successfully realized.
This may be a strange way to explain regaining my faith in humanity, but today I sat in their high definition theatre with my chin agape, remembering how I saw the world twelve years ago. I saw a world badly battered and bruised, but I still believed in men enough to believe we could do better. I believed in the power of the mind and the power of persistence to change something daunting into something beautiful. I believed in the power of creation, of creativity, to overcome dire circumstances. I believed that I had the power to make this world better. And today, I got a reminder of that perspective. Human ingenuity at its best. Human beings collaborating on projects bigger than themselves. Human beings driven by curiosity and exploration. Humans pouring their lives into discovery instead of warheads.
Today was a reminder of possibility. Life is choice. We chose to make our path startling and beautiful or to accept the world the way it is. There are no limits, though. I will write it again, to be sure that I can later remember. There are no limits. No limits, either bad or good, to human genius. Realizing this is holding the power of the universe in my hand- it is the power children own until their perception of the world becomes too dark to fathom such potential truly existing. Causes are only lost if we convince ourselves they are. All else is buried knowledge yet to be discovered. All else can be uncovered through a desperate commitment to unfolding the secrets of the universe.
We can revive a sick world and an apathetic population. We can overcome the most daunting tasks. We must learn, somehow, to do so together. And we must remember to see the world again through the eyes of a child.
The word I have been searching for is hope. I now have reason to hope again. And while NASA may be the silliest catalyst for hope, I remember yet again the calling I felt as a young girl to try to realize the potential beauty I saw in every component of life that should have left me quaking with fear.
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