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I met Derek Elmore about eight years ago. Actually, I know exactly when I met him. It was the fall of 2008. I know it was before November 2008. And the reason I know this so precisely is the same reason I thought after we first met that he would never talk to me again.
The last bell of the day for a high school teacher is not really an "end" in any traditional sense of the word. We go off to our next thing: coaching, meetings, professional development, parent conferences, you name it. Much of this we do willingly as it's important to our students and our school; some we do grudgingly. In the early months of 2008, when I was still teaching on the second floor of my school, I was on my way to one of those grudging things. How quickly might it end, I wondered. How quickly could I get back to my team and the things I cared about more?
On my way I ran into Derek who was headed to the same meeting. I didn't really know him; we had a mutual friend in Casey Wood and Casey spoke very highly of Derek. The friend of my friend... So we chatted for the briefest of moments as we headed downstairs. Somewhere in that stairwell on the center hallway, as we griped about the things in education that frustrate us, I made the passing comment, "Well, it'll all get better when we get a different President in office. Preferably from the other party." I practically tossed off a wink.
Derek threw a quick side glance at me and simply replied, "Yeah? Ya think?" No sarcasm, no hostility, no judgement. But in his words I realized. Shit, I thought. Shit, shit shit. Aaron why do you blurt your politics out with complete strangers!? I think I apologized while not losing face (in all likelihood I sounded like a moron - something I achieve on a fairly weekly basis). And I remember as we walked into that meeting thinking clearly and definitely, well, someone else who won't like me.
I'm not sure when politics became a central part of who I am. High school? I remember giving speeches about liberalism. College? Did my readings reinforce what I was already thinking or did they open me to more reasons? After? When I started paying taxes and wondered why much of my money was going to weapons of war instead of feeding the poor? (There I go again...) Whatever the case, by the time I met Derek, I was definitely partisan although I tried to be good about listening to others and thinking before I spoke. (Obviously something I failed at when I first met him.)
But the next day I ran into him again on hall duty, up on the glorious W hall, second floor. He came and stood next to me and after the class change had settled, he commenced. And it was simply a question related to the student our meeting had been about the day before. I didn't know I was holding my breath until I released it. So we talked. About students and school and our experiences. We compared notes on students we taught; we tried to keep the hallways clear (easier some days than others). I learned from him.
I learned that not only could I get along with someone who saw the world in a pretty fundamentally different way but I could like him too. Really like him. Have his back if stuff went down, kind of way. He doesn't need me to have his back, by the way. He's taller, stronger, and would doubtlessly rescue me from any problems before I could ever help him. Over the next year, two, and three as we talked more our conversations migrated from specific ("Have you been on the E hallway recently?") to generic ("Think Florida has education problems like we do?"). Gradually we even talked about our differences.
This is the real point I want to make: I got to a place where I wasn't uncomfortable when Derek talked about what he believes (free market, libertarianism kinds of things). In fact, I welcomed it. In time, I even needed it. I reached a place where I needed his quid to my quo because I was worried I hadn't thought my ideas really through enough. Or worse, I hadn't really had anyone push back against my ideas in a way that made me objectively check myself. We talked about Ayn Rand and even as we came to different conclusions about her writing, we could still talk. We could talk about taxes and guns and religious fervor and modern political crap... and it didn't end in anger or fisticuffs (can I use that word in 2015?). Often, it ended in a bit more clarity.
I figured out, not really long ago, Derek and I don't talk about these things to try to change each others' minds. I'm never going to get him to vote for Bernie Sanders and he's never going to convince me that Ron Paul has all the answers. But we do it, I think, to make sure we haven't drifted too far off course. At least, that's why I do it. And I love talking to the man. I love it when we agree on stuff; I love it more when he explains why something I think, with all due respect, is kind of batshit crazy.
I have a lot of conservative friends. Some I get along with better than others but none are like Derek. I value our friendship at a place that is individualistic and sincere. I would probably take a bullet for the dude and, while I was dying, explain that this is why we need gun reform.
I'm just glad he talked to me again.
On my way I ran into Derek who was headed to the same meeting. I didn't really know him; we had a mutual friend in Casey Wood and Casey spoke very highly of Derek. The friend of my friend... So we chatted for the briefest of moments as we headed downstairs. Somewhere in that stairwell on the center hallway, as we griped about the things in education that frustrate us, I made the passing comment, "Well, it'll all get better when we get a different President in office. Preferably from the other party." I practically tossed off a wink.
Derek threw a quick side glance at me and simply replied, "Yeah? Ya think?" No sarcasm, no hostility, no judgement. But in his words I realized. Shit, I thought. Shit, shit shit. Aaron why do you blurt your politics out with complete strangers!? I think I apologized while not losing face (in all likelihood I sounded like a moron - something I achieve on a fairly weekly basis). And I remember as we walked into that meeting thinking clearly and definitely, well, someone else who won't like me.
I'm not sure when politics became a central part of who I am. High school? I remember giving speeches about liberalism. College? Did my readings reinforce what I was already thinking or did they open me to more reasons? After? When I started paying taxes and wondered why much of my money was going to weapons of war instead of feeding the poor? (There I go again...) Whatever the case, by the time I met Derek, I was definitely partisan although I tried to be good about listening to others and thinking before I spoke. (Obviously something I failed at when I first met him.)
But the next day I ran into him again on hall duty, up on the glorious W hall, second floor. He came and stood next to me and after the class change had settled, he commenced. And it was simply a question related to the student our meeting had been about the day before. I didn't know I was holding my breath until I released it. So we talked. About students and school and our experiences. We compared notes on students we taught; we tried to keep the hallways clear (easier some days than others). I learned from him.
I learned that not only could I get along with someone who saw the world in a pretty fundamentally different way but I could like him too. Really like him. Have his back if stuff went down, kind of way. He doesn't need me to have his back, by the way. He's taller, stronger, and would doubtlessly rescue me from any problems before I could ever help him. Over the next year, two, and three as we talked more our conversations migrated from specific ("Have you been on the E hallway recently?") to generic ("Think Florida has education problems like we do?"). Gradually we even talked about our differences.
This is the real point I want to make: I got to a place where I wasn't uncomfortable when Derek talked about what he believes (free market, libertarianism kinds of things). In fact, I welcomed it. In time, I even needed it. I reached a place where I needed his quid to my quo because I was worried I hadn't thought my ideas really through enough. Or worse, I hadn't really had anyone push back against my ideas in a way that made me objectively check myself. We talked about Ayn Rand and even as we came to different conclusions about her writing, we could still talk. We could talk about taxes and guns and religious fervor and modern political crap... and it didn't end in anger or fisticuffs (can I use that word in 2015?). Often, it ended in a bit more clarity.
I figured out, not really long ago, Derek and I don't talk about these things to try to change each others' minds. I'm never going to get him to vote for Bernie Sanders and he's never going to convince me that Ron Paul has all the answers. But we do it, I think, to make sure we haven't drifted too far off course. At least, that's why I do it. And I love talking to the man. I love it when we agree on stuff; I love it more when he explains why something I think, with all due respect, is kind of batshit crazy.
I have a lot of conservative friends. Some I get along with better than others but none are like Derek. I value our friendship at a place that is individualistic and sincere. I would probably take a bullet for the dude and, while I was dying, explain that this is why we need gun reform.
I'm just glad he talked to me again.
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