Finding Justice; Regaining Faith

Courtesy of philosophicaldisquisitions.blogspot.com

I have a theory.

Life is a crazy journey. That is its wonderful, awful nature. It twists and turns and drags us along while we move our feet and hope. And if we have the wisdom, we pause and truly see the good moments...then bear down and survive the bad.

Who would have ever thought my life would find one such twist on the High Trestle Trail in Sheldahl, Iowa? But I did. A bicycle outing was interrupted by a deputy who challenged us with demeaning and bullying words:"Do you know what a little, red, octagon sign means?" A few moments later, after he charged down the bike trail in his squad car and we scrambled off the path and out of his way, he issued a threat: "I'm gonna rain on your parade!" After a 30 minute wait, he emerged from his vehicle with $300 in tickets for me, a $100 fine for my friend despite the fact we never broke a law! 

We wanted justice. Sometimes, good people must act on principle; this is what Lisa Schaa and I did.

We pled not guilty. We fought the charges...we filed a complaint. Today, four months later, our painful voyage through the justice system is complete. ALL CHARGES HAVE BEEN DISMISSED! We won.

It’s important for all to know that I have had deep respect and admiration for law enforcement officials all my life. My life has been blessed with family members who serve their communities as officers, and I have the witnessed the enormous demands the work places on their lives and their families. The men and women who dedicate their lives to protecting and serving our world deserve respect.

However...what happened on that bike trail on that day with that officer needed to be addressed. 

The County office? It harassed us....ignored us....delayed us.....then finally asked for a strange solution: mediation. Mediation allows victims to speak to those who hurt them and try to find a good solution. But in our crazy scenario, the deputy played the role of the victim. Unbelievable! This bully sat fully uniformed and wearing his fire arm. I mentioned to the mediator that I found it upsetting that this man, who threatened and bullied us on a bike trail, now sat in front of us fully armed. The deputy objected and pointed to his badge: "I'm on duty 24/7."  

His same haughty and empowered attitude prevailed. 

We asked, for the third time, to view the video tape or hear the audio recording so we could prove our innocence; we received the third different excuse as to why this is not recorded: his camera and audio equipment were both broken. Oh my....But in the end, justice was served and we left with all charges dismissed. The system worked.

There is no doubt; I was naïve. I did believe we were doing the right thing when we filed the complaint with the Sheriff’s department. I did believe the system needed an awareness of what had happened.  I was wrong. They didn't want to know.

Was it all worth it?

I am unsure. I do not have the wisdom to know if good will come from our battle with injustice. But I can reflect on the goodness that has flooded my life from the misadventure.

I walked into a courtroom and found a world which I did not know existed. I blogged and experienced the great, good fortune of having people listen. And I received the blessing of support from dear friends and complete strangers. For all of these things, I am deeply grateful.

And I am so very grateful it is all over!

On June 28^th, I blogged that I had suffered injustice and lost my faith. The day I wrote those words, I was completely defeated. I was dazed and sick by the state of the justice system. I was incensed to suffer disturbing treatment on a bicycle trail and then suffer further bullying and intimidation from those who I thought would care about my ordeal.

But I continued to shuffle my feet and hope. Somehow, with some great good fortune, I found justice....and I found my faith....and I found so many blessings.

So, I guess I have found the moral to this story: just keep shuffling.

2012: My 21st Year of Teaching Begins

English Teaching Super Heroes at Boone High!

I don't know how it happens...it just does. We just grow older, whether or not we notice. And, despite my persistent self-delusion that I am one of those "young" teachers, in truth, I have become one of the "seasoned veterans". Yeah, I have to own that.

The good news? I truly don't mind. I like being 46-years-old. It fits me.

And more good news: I still really love teaching. I was reminded of that today.

During my prep period, a student stopped in "just to talk." Now, those teachers out there may understand this: sometimes such "pop-ins" make teachers cringe. It's not that we don't enjoy our students; we just have so much work to complete in that 40 minute prep, we cherish every second. However, I put my selfish thoughts aside and relaxed. Reina wished to see how my year was and to share her junior year so far.

And then she started talking about how much she loves to write.

"You know what I love, Mrs. Olson? A clean, white sheet of paper and a new, sharp pencil. Those things are simply the best."

And now I am so glad I sat and listened.


I listened to her explain how she carries a notebook with her wherever she goes, recording little seeds that may become big stories later. I listened to her describe her love of a coming of age tale.."No fantasy stories for me," she explains. And I listened to her dreams of publishing her stories some day.

My oldest sister always said, "Find meaningful work and you will have a meaningful life."

Yes, in year twenty-one I still love teaching, for I find it incredibly meaningful. In what other career can one listen to a young person's dream?  It is such a privilege.  And maybe...just maybe... we teachers may play a small role as we watch our students achieve. That is amazing

So, welcome 2012-2013. Here we go!

My Hijacked Blog Continues...Chapter 3: Court Appearance Number Two

A gift for my 46th birthday...

Hijacked? Yes, my blog has been hijacked. "I write to share ideas with colleagues and to learn from others." So my blog description states. This summer, that tag has been grossly inaccurate. It should read, "I write to share my experiences with bike trail injustices." And let's just be honest: my readership is way up.

So here is the next chapter of this outrageous saga: our pre-trial experience.

On Thursday, Lisa Schaa and I traveled to Des Moines--for the THIRD time--to appear before a judge for a pre-trial conference. I was unsure as to the purpose of a "pre-trial appearance," but I thought it may be where we set the date for our trial. Honestly, that is for what I hoped; I have learned that indeed the wheels of justice turn slowly, and these slow turns are taxing to my emotional well being. But Lisa and I arrived optimistic for the next step of justice.

It did have an ominous start. As we moved through security, Lisa is detained. "Miss, can you empty your purse?"  Yeah...she was packin' a Swiss Army knife. We returned the weapon to her car ("This one has a corkscrew and these aren't cheap!"), and begin again.

Walking back to the courthouse, a ponytailed man sporting sandals and mismatched socks approached us: "You two look like troublemakers," he said. It was Kim West, Lisa's good samaritan attorney; we immediately love him. My attorney finds us outside courtroom 202A: "Are you two the bicyclists?" Unfortunately, the answer is yes.

I pause a moment and reflect. It's funny, this congregation of strangers gathered to fight bike trail injustice. I smile at the idiosyncratic nature of life. However, reflection cannot last long; we're due in court.

It was anti-climatic. It seems the county's attorney would prefer to avoid a trial and wishes to try mediation first. Our attorneys seem to be amenable to this idea. So, chapter four will be mediation, and all involved parties, including our notorious deputy, will be there.

My advisor from graduate school left a comment on my Facebook page: "What is it you wish to gain from mediation?" It gives me pause...what DO I want?

I want justice. I want the truth. I want Deputy Dale Petersen to tell all: that we stopped at that stopped sign; that he acted inappropriately by harassing us to define what little, red, octagon signs mean and by threatening me with, "I'm gonna rain on your parade,"; to admit I had every legal right to ride around him when I had done nothing wrong. I want these haters on Facebook saying terrible things about me to hear these truths from Deputy Dale himself. And maybe....just maybe...I'd like him to apologize for causing this entire mess. That is what I want, Dr. Z.

And if this proves impossible during the mediation process, then I want a trial.

Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird

This courtroom scene may just be a remarkable proceeding. Our "hall of justice" could well be full of family and friends, and many students, there to support us and see this saga through. In fact, some strangers may attend, for our fight has become an important matter of principle for many thoughtful and compassionate people. Finally, there in that space, all three of us, Lisa, me, and our witness--who did not receive a ticket but experienced the entire spectacle with us--will tell our tale to a jury and a judge. For good or for ill, that is what will be, for if that is what the County wishes to do in support of their deputy, so be it. I am ready.

And it all will be in the Des Moines Register and  on the 6 o'clock news, for our local TV stations wish to tell all of Central Iowa what ever happened to those High Trestle Trail troublemakers!

Fear does fill me, but I am determined now to see this through. Boy! do I look forward to its completion, so we then can all gather to either commiserate or celebrate. And no matter the outcome, we will laugh and cherish this quirky life and its experiences.

These t-shirts were gifts awaiting us in Marshalltown after a grueling RAGBRAI day!

And thanks to friends with a wicked sense of humor, I already know what I will wear to the party!

Finding My Strength

Courtesy of bagpipeband.wordpress.com

One of my former students (he graduated this May) sent me a gracious note this week: "Mrs. Olson, I read your blog and I feel so bad for you. I believe I would have handled it in the same way and I am proud of you as a student. I will keep you in my prayers. Correction: I would have wanted to handle it the same way you did, but I don't know if I have the courage."

I don't think I have the courage.

I have been so ill-prepared for so much this summer. Who in a million years would expect a confrontation with a police officer while riding a bike on a bike trail??  Who in the world would expect to be interrogated like a criminal for filing a complaint concerning a bike trail incident??  Who in the world would have expected over 5000 people read my blog??  It's just been crazy!!

But what I have been most unprepared for is the hate. And make no mistake, there is an enormous amount of hate.

These people seem to hate so many things. The most popular thing to hate are bicyclists. One person wrote, "I have seen more bicyclist break the laws of the road more than I have anyone else...they think they own the road and don't have to obey the law.  I'm tired of their arrogant attitude. These women deserve what they get." Another person wrote, "All bicyclists are pricks."

Others just hate me...based on what they saw in a one minute, thirty second TV news report. One commenter said they were so annoyed with me, they wanted to give me a ticket for being who I am. Another said I definitely needed clown shoes. Others were certain that this was all to promote my blog. More than one commenter felt it was highly probable I was drunk while I was riding, and many were certain I did not deserve to be a teacher.

No, I was not prepared for all this hate.

But amazing goodness has emerged from this craziness. Friends and family have come forward and expressed outrage at the entire situation. Many have volunteered to serve as character witnesses for me. It has been especially touching to have so many students' support. One former student (who is now a teacher) wrote: "You [are] one of my greatest and favorite mentors; seeing you attacked like this really fires me up! I'll stand up for you any day." How blessed I am.


Complete strangers have also sent me notes. These people have been gracious to share their stories and offer encouragement and advice. One of these strangers is now my lawyer...and my friend. There is so much comfort in the understanding of others. I cherish it.

And then there is a cartoon by Brian Duffy. He seems to understand the utter ridiculous nature of the situation better than most. A good dose of humor is always excellent medicine.

And as a teacher, I cannot help but be stunned and inspired at the power of a blog. I have my students blog to reflect on their reading, to share their thoughts on life and our lessons, to respond to the thoughts of others. My "little blog that could" experience will definitely allow my students to see the power of the written word online, and its ability to affect the world around them. So, yeah....there is hate. But...there is also great goodness, too, and THAT must be by focus.


My great friend and fellow biker, Lisa Schaa, has been so very strong from the start. I was ready to collapse, pay the fine, and make this all go away, but she refused. "No, Cathy," she stated flatly. "It's the principle of the thing. We won't let people bully us. We will keep telling the truth." Thank goodness for Lisa's ability to keep perspectivel. When facing the interrogative techniques the investigators used, she had the sense to sit back, cross her arms and say, "Are you serious??  We are talking about a bike trail, for goodness sake!" 


She's right....and she is amazing. She walks forward and I walk behind.

The student who sent his encouragement had posted a status earlier that day. It read: "I let my haters be my motivators." I wish I was that strong. Haters don't motivate me; they just make me hurt. That's how I'm wired, I guess. I will work to have Lisa's strength so they hurt me less. But proving people wrong is no motivation for me.


My motivations are my children. And my students. I do not want my son, daughters, students... anyone....to endure harassment or humiliation. I want my children and students to know they can stand up to those who wish to belittle or bully them. I want them to realize their rights and the power of their voices.

So, I must have strength. And perspective.

Thank you to those who help me find it.

• 
  

Struggling with Injustice and Losing Faith

Lady Justice at Supreme Court Building

I do not suffer injustice well.

When I see unethical or immoral behavior, I speak out. I have faith in the goodness of our society...and this faith extends to the belief that society joins me in my quest to rid the world of injustice.  When a reasonable person speaks out against a transgression, I expect others will listen, stand up and say, "We must do something to right this wrong!"

But over and over again, nobody stands up. Worse, nobody likes that one trouble-maker who cries foul.

How silly of me to think otherwise. 

I learned this lesson again this summer where one would expect little trouble: on the High Trestle Bike Trail in Central Iowa. I began to ride this year--was even thinking about trying a few days of RAGBRAI. A good friend generously invited me to join her group who rides, and I enjoyed one day so much (what a beautiful trail!), I decided to join another Sunday ride. As my friend and I approached a stop sign ( according to a fellow rider, there are 27 stop signs on the 19 mile stretch of trail between Madrid and Ankeny), I noted a deputy sheriff was slowly inching his car down the road the trail crosses. I slowed, thinking he might wave us through the sign like many drivers do. When he did not, I stopped, along with my friend. Without leaving his vehicle, without engaging his lights, without even putting his car in gear, he leaned out his window and said in a malevolent and disrespectful tone: "Do you girls know what a red octagon sign means?"

And this is a problem. The first words he speaks are belittling and rude and accusatory--and are partnered with a mocking tone. I prickle and sense injustice. Here I am out enjoying a bike ride on a beautiful trail, not one iota of my being feels that I'm causing trouble or hurting anyone, yet I am getting harassed and treated disrespectfully by this officer. However, I did not wish to cause any trouble, so I simply replied, "Yes."

"Did you stop?" he asked. Again, since we were sitting fully stopped at the sign, I thought his behavior was ridiculous, harassing and disrespectful, and my "no-tolerance-of-injustice" streak is tugging at me,  but I answered politely: "Yes."

"Were you going to stop?"

He's killing me! Now I'm being harranged for something an officer suspected I might/might not do?  AGAIN I think his behavior is ridiculous, harassing, and disrespectful, but I simply and calmly state the truth: "Yes." The deputy grimaced, pointed at my friend, and said, "Well, she wasn't going to! She had to emergency brake!"

Now injustice is in full swing...emergency brake? Seriously?? He didn't like the manner in which my friend stopped, and that is cause to belittle us from his car window? I fear that I am going to say something as disrespectful as he rants on about the dangers of not stopping at stop signs (Really?? It's dangerous not to stop at stop signs?? Yes, you may detect sarcasm ) and how rude the bikers in this area have been. Since he never engaged his lights, nor left his vehicle, nor even put his car into park... and since he seemed satisfied that I indeed had planned on stopping and was not addressing me, I thought I would ride around the outrageous deputy in his car and wait on the other side of the road for my emergency-braking friend. "I shall let this injustice slide without outburst or objection," I thought to myself proudly as I removed myself from the insulting situation.

This was the wrong choice. Suddenly I hear a commotion behind me. I turn from where I am stopped and see the deputy in his car racing down the trail to chase me down!! I feared for a moment he was going to run me over, but he did stop, leave his vehicle (which has never yet engaged its red lights of arrest), and charged up so close to me, I can feel his breath. I stand in shock. "Just what is it you think you are doing today?" he asked.

"I'm just trying to enjoy a bike ride on a beautiful trail."

"Well," he sneered. "I'm about to rain on your parade." Wow. He went to his car, and 30 minutes later emerged with two tickets: one for failure to stop at a stop sign ($100), and another for failure to comply with a police officer's orders ($200). Double Wow. As I protested a steep fine for doing nothing wrong, he threatened to impound my bike and take me to jail! I decided injustice was not to be fought for on the High Trestle Trail.

The saga has a chapter two. It is in this chapter I lost my faith in the basic good of people; specifically, the goodness of police officers.

Motivated by horror stories of inappropriate behavior involving this same deputy told to me by other riders on the trail, I foolishly filed a complaint. I thought those in charge of this unbalanced deputy should know how their officer behaves, and such unhinged behavior (you should have seen him tear down that bike trail!) needed to be documented. After all, it's men like this who give their profession a bad name.

How silly of me.

These "complaint investigators" interrogated me like I was a criminal, accused me of dropping the F bomb to this deputy, stated I disrespected and threatened him. When I said this was absolutely untrue, they claimed they had interviewed people who lived along the trail and heard me using the f word repeatedly and had said, "That rude woman got just what she deserved."  I was so shocked and scared and mad, I rambled like an idiot, then said, "Just check the audio tape...I have requested it. It will prove I never did those things."

The investigator looked down and began doodling. "There is no audio tape. It only begins recording when the officer turns on his lights, and since he never turned on his lights, there is no recording."

I smell injustice but plod on...interrupting the investigators as a new false accusation or characterization occurs. "Please let me finish," the officer begs. But I don't. I keep pleading for justice...hoping to see some kindness in his eyes, but I find none. "It's rude that you keep interrupting me," he says, and he is right. I am being rude.

But I want to cry and yell, "YOU started it! You are accusing me of all these terrible things. You are not kind to me, like I expected!! Can't you see I am a good person only trying to do what's right??"

No, they don't see this. Why did I think they would? Instead, this sergeant says to me,  "We have people come in all the time and act like they are an Irish nun here, but out on the road, they were nothing like that." I drop my head and feel my faith in justice and goodness drift away. I leave defeated and beaten.

This may sound over-the-top, but I now have a greater understanding why women so rarely report a rape; it's ghastly and horrifying to bring a wrong to the attention of policemen only to have them accuse you...have them throw lies about yourself at you. "What do you mean he was harassing to you?" they say.  "Didn't you ask for it with your behavior?" Soon, you don't know what to think.

But I do know this: I don't feel like working for justice anymore. As I sit here, dazed and sick, I wish I would NEVER have filed that complaint. Injustice?  Hmmpf! These investigators didn't care about me nor my injustice. My day was spent accomplishing nothing but bringing more humiliation and anguish upon myself. Why did I have faith in the goodness of people and the value of justice?

How silly of me. 

 

Summer Reading: So Bittersweet

Photo by Rashawerakh via flickr.com/creative commons 

One of my favorite parts of summer--and being finished with my masters--is I now have time to read. Just-for-fun reading I mean, not school reading. So I started with the three books of Hunger Games; that was indeed a fun read. Today I finished Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut. It's been a wonderful, horrible read. Let me explain.

In my English 3B (American Literature) course, my students read a work by a "major" American author born before 1940 (they choose a more contemporary author in another course). Lawrence choose, with a nudge from me, Kurt Vonnegut and his novel Cat's Cradle. I looked forward to reading his weekly blog and finding his reactions.

His first entry discussed the title: "What does Cat's Cradle mean?" he wrote. "To me it means worthless. just like the game cat's cradle." I knew he was reading...which is more rare than I would like to admit. "I enjoy how the book Cat's Cradle actually sounds like non-fiction," his second entry said. One entry quoted the last paragraph of the novel. Lawrence wrote, "That paragraph really got to me because it actually is the main topic of how humanity is stupid. If you really think of it, it's true."

In his discussion thread we discussed how Vonnegut was so drastically affected by his experiences in World War II. As Lawrence began researching Vonnegut for his paper, he often shared interesting things he learned about Vonnegut. And one day---one of my favorite days--Lawrence said, "You know, I would have loved to have met Kurt Vonnegut. I bet he would be so great to talk to with the dark sense of humor and all."

"You really get Vonnegut," I answered as he smiled. He knew I hadn't read Cat's Cradle; I had told him I'd read Slaughterhouse 5 and read about Cat's, but never read it. "Mrs. Olson, you got to read Cat's Cradle. It's just so great." I promised him I would in the summer when I had no grad work and no papers to read.

I've kept my promise, and I did absolutely love the novel. I found myself often just setting it down and smiling, astounded with Vonnegut's genius.  Now, I wish I could share my thoughts on the novel with Lawrence...but for some reason that no one really understands, Lawrence took his own life on May 17...two days before he would have finished his junior year.

So, I have been thinking of him constantly these last two days. And I have been grateful to be a literature teacher---to have had the chance to discuss literature with Lawrence. I think that English teachers get to know students in a more personal way than most others. We read their thoughts and feelings in their writing; we hear their thoughts on life as they respond to various works. I have more intense interactions with my students than many of my friends; these deep topics often don't appear in daily life. These conversations make so many uncomfortable, so many avoid them. Many students avoid really thinking about things, too.

But not Lawrence. He was thinking, he was learning, he was growing. He was becoming a thoughtful young man. Another teacher had helped him make a reading list for summer: most of it was Vonnegut. That thought still makes me smile.

I don't know what happened. It makes me so mad he's not here now. I feel like I have failed him--why I didn't see warnings...why he couldn't be saved. Those of us that have been teaching long enough have faced one of these tragedies. It never gets any easier.

But I know I'm glad I had the privilege of knowing Lawrence. I'm glad I had those conversations with him. Those parts are my favorite parts of teaching.

Life can be so bittersweet.

Becoming a Believer of the Blog

www.flickr.com

Well, it's been a slow process. And I certainly have had my doubts. But, I can no longer deny it: I have become a believer in the blog. I truly believe I am witnessing some genuine, authentic learning this semester in these blogs. However, it's been a long journey to get here. Let me explain...

During the fall of 2010, I replaced reading logs required of the independent reading piece of the curriculum and instituted a blogging wiki. I had visions of real and meaningful conversations about their reading and total student investment in creating a published piece in which students would take pride.  The results were...to use the words of my 20-year-old son..."Meh." A non-descript word for non-impressive results. Here is a screen shot of one student's weekly blog (and by the way, this student is considered gifted and is in our honors English course this semester):

Not exactly the deep thinking and student investment I was hoping to see. The discussions were worse.

Ug. Still, there were enough glimpses of good stuff that I felt encouraged to continue (well, perhaps it was the lack of any good alternative). However, I knew I had to make some changes if I wanted to see changes in the work...

Change 1: Dedicate more class time to blogging. Now, those teachers out there appreciate what an agonizing decision this is. For one, I risk not covering all the necessary pieces of the 18 week curriculum, which is already a tight fit. Secondly, this means "hogging" one computer lab for 5 hours of the day each Friday. Again, I risk injury from those irate teachers who see the schedule and say, "Olson has the lab EVERY FRIDAY for these hours?" Frightening. 

Change 2: Step up the expectations of what content will be in the blog.  I worried about making it "my" assignment, and tried to afford as much student choice as possible. I always had provided writing prompts and had given suggestions as to what could be done to enhance the blog, but left it an open-ended assignment with great leeway. Well, those days are over. I now require 5 elements in each blog: 1, a catchy title; 2, an appropriate image that fits the blog; 3, appropriate credit for the image; 4, a hyperlink; and 5, complete, well-constructed sentences full of the author's voice. 

Change 3: Add required response content Again, worry about infringing on student choice took a back seat to pushing students to work toward quality work.

 Change 4: Add a "sister" school with whom we share blogs. Now, this requirement exists only in my World Literature class, but this now looks like a vital piece.

These changes have made a differences. I now am finding many insightful and thoughtful blogs...not everyone, but many more than I did in the past. Check out these screen shots from this semester:

The discussion threads have been stronger, too. Again, a screen shot.

As you can see, I do try to comment on every blog and try to role model insightful comments and thinking.  I am helped with this by an excellent collaborating teacher who will respond to one of the sections. She does a fantastic job encouraging students and modeling insightful comments.  Together we hope to encourage our students to grow as readers, writers, and thinkers.

I am seeing even more promising results in my World Literature class. Instead of using a Wiki, I instead use Blogger. World Lit is a senior elective which I teach only once each day, and I felt I could better teach all the options of Blogger more effectively with this smaller group. Also, it is easier to read and manage a smaller number of links to all the different blogs. (The Wiki works well for a larger group for all the pages are together and muh more easily managed.)  

Here is a screen shot of one of the World Lit blogs followed by the comment stream.

I am encouraged by the connections to other pieces of literature and the connections to others' comments in the stream. Three of the comments in this stream are from students in our "sister" class. I am hopeful my students begin to enjoy sharing their thoughts and having others read and respond. BTW...I require that my students read and respond to all of the blogs of our sister class and at least 2 of our classmates. I just find more success establishing high expectations of their time and involvement in this process.

So, I plan on continuing this work with blogs. The English 3B is done with their independent reading piece now, but I plan on using the blog as a way to reflect on the week's learning as we move on to research papers and other units. I'm not sure where this will lead, but I'm sure I will learn.

Hopefully, my students will learn, too. And hopefully, they will the remember these times of conversations about literature and learning about life. I'm always full of hope.