THE FIRST GRADER

Last night I went to see "The First Grader", a movie at the Angelika, part of the USA Film Festival.  Actually, I'm the worst mother EVER because I took my tiny tender ear/heart-ed first grade SON with me to said film, realizing about two minutes in that though the movie was called The First Grader the title was actually IRONIC and this movie was NOT FOR KIDS.  But we were already there, and damnit, I had paid twenty dollars. Popcorn was involved.  For whatever reason, he didn't want to leave.  He buried his head and covered his ears for the sad parts.  And the sad parts, my friends, were really sad.  But the good parts soared.  Just flew. I should have forced the issue and left, but we both wanted to stay and we did, curled into each other, holding hands.  The way that I know some day that seems far away now but really isn't at all, I will look back on and feel so blessed to have had with my son.

The movie is set in a mountain village in Kenya and follows the stunningly uplifting (and true!) story of Maruge, an 84-year-old man who decided to go to school when the country introduced universal education.  A farmer and veteran of the Mau Mau uprising of the 1950's, Maruge's wife and two children were killed by British Colonialists.  Though he was tortured, he stood by an oath to his tribe.  This same man, at 84, wanted to learn to read.  The school authorities were not keen to let him into a class of 6-year-olds, ostensibly because of limited resources, but partly due to leftover tribal rivalries.  Red tape and bureaucracy ensued, of course, and I won't ruin the end for you (although I'm FAMOUS for that kind of thing, just ask my family), suffice to say the story was a lesson in dignity, guts, survival, and second chances.

I left feeling humbled.  Unspeakably lucky that when I have a complaint (or ten) I have a legislator/representative/school board to call, email, and annoy as often as I want to.  I can be a loud squeaky wheel, fight for change, speak my truth, and do so without fear.  That is an enormous privilege not to be taken lightly.  Whether you love him or hate him or somewhere in between, can we all agree it is miraculous that in our country a black man is President?  That is the definition of change.  What would have seemed inconceivable a decade ago has happened. What could be more life affirming?  The trick is staying awake.  Never losing the ability to surprise yourself.  Because every once in awhile you remember, and not just because it's a bumper sticker.  Change--enormous all encompassing border busting--happens.  Right before it was that way, it wasn't.  And then it was.  Remember?