Stand For Something, Fall For Nothing

I’ll take on an entire damn room full of people…even if I’m the lone voice in the woods!

I’ve always been a rebel. A “black sheep.” A “redheaded stepchild.” A “loose cannon.” Or insert any other cliché of your choosing.

There’s an equally-overused cliché that goes:

“If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything.”

It’s often attributed to Alexander Hamilton, although countless public figures have been quoted as saying it to make a point.

Sometimes, even clichés contain speckles of truth. In many scenarios, they can be partially applied to our lives…even if the appropriator of those quotations may have less-than-prudent motives.

During my Sixth Grade year, I had a homeroom teacher named Mr. Wester. Our middle school kept us in the same “homeroom” classroom for a majority of core subjects: Social Studies, English, Science, and Reading. We only rotated to other teachers for Math in order to accommodate the smartest students who’d been placed in “high math.”

Then, we had our afternoon “specials”: Library Skills, Art, Tech Ed, Family & Consumer Ed, Guidance, Study Hall, Music Appreciation, and twice-per-week Physical Education. Specialized teachers for these subjects, as well. All 150+ of the kids in our class had two of these ten courses per school day. Our rotation was structured in a way that there would be approximately 30 students in each of these class sessions (give or take).

Overall, Mr. Wester was a very kind and charismatic educator. He recognized students’ strengths and tried to help us improve upon our weaknesses. But he had his blind spots.

At one point during the school year, we had a unit on World War II in Social Studies. Amidst discussion topics, Mr. Wester gave us an informal survey, asking us (as students) to weigh in on how America should have ideally handled military service.

The choices were:

1.) Institute a lottery draft from all able-bodied people, both men and women

2.) Institute a lottery draft from only able-bodied men

3.) Maintain a completely voluntary military for willing enlistees

When Mr. Wester asked us to debate it openly — and after several students had given canned answers — I weighed in. I basically said:

“Well, I wouldn’t pick Option 1, because it’s stupid…”

To which many classmates immediately scoffed.

“And I wouldn’t pick Option 2, because it’s stupid *and* sexist…”

More scoffs and groans…many of them probably coming from students whose politics differed from those of my initial detractors.

“…so that only leaves Option 3, which is what I’d go with.”

Mr. Wester clearly wasn’t very fond of my antiwar stance. I could tell from his body language that he thought I was some clueless rabble-rouser. A wannabe hippie in the throes of puberty.

But he also wasn’t one to directly debate students with his own personal views. Instead, Mr. Wester was about to make an example out of me.

Digesting my words, he said to the entire class:

“Okay, well, let’s see a show of hands…if any of you had been alive back then, how many of you would have been proud to serve in the military, if you’d been drafted?”

Nearly every student’s hand shot up — including a majority of the girls’. There were obviously a few dissenters; but my attention was more focused on the kids who seemed eager to “stick it to” me.

Needless to say: I was a nerdy and unpopular kid. Someone whom nobody ever seemed to want to get “stuck with” as their partner (much to Mr. Wester’s chagrin, whenever he asked us to “find a partner” for two-person activities).

Silently, I was thinking:

“Yeah, right! You all say that, now…because you’re trying to make me feel foolish. But barely any of you would survive something as rigorous and taxing as military training.”

Then, Todd — a more progressive-minded classmate of mine — spoke up. He said:

“Well, I think I’d go with Option 3 as the best possible choice…and maybe only resort to Option 1 if there weren’t enough soldiers volunteering.”

Todd was more popular than me, so his words were clearly more palatable to my critics than mine had been. But my core belief still remains intact, to this day…

Military service should never be compulsory. One’s government shouldn’t be able to tell you it’s your “duty” to kill other people. Certainly not based on your genitalia per se.

And, given the way American culture was during the 1940s — there was never any risk of the U.S. falling short of the number of troops it needed. Once Pearl Harbor happened, a vast majority of Americans were out for Hitler’s and Hirohito’s blood.

Let’s look at a less ridiculous answer that still stung, from two years later.

Our English teacher in Eighth Grade, Mr. DeVries — who allowed us to call him “Mr. D.,” probably seeking our affection — was, to put it bluntly, a hard-ass.

He had a tough, almost militant exterior. My theory is that he consciously presented himself in this way so that students wouldn’t try to take advantage of him. However, once you got to know Mr. D., you saw that he had a softer side hidden beneath his plaid-shirted and bearded brawn.

By midyear, I could tell that Mr. D. had sussed out how I, individually, was “one of the good ones” (at least, in terms of what teachers normally valued in students). There were moments when I slyly managed to break through his brittle exterior, and I picked up on the secret affection he had for me. In fact, he once referred to me as possessing “the most extensive vocabulary in the entire Eighth Grade class.”

He would still be prickly toward me, in public, as part of his performative persona. But I eventually realized I wasn’t on his shit list.

Still, my tendency to go against the grain wasn’t all that much tempered by Eighth Grade.

During a mini-unit we had about civics and political representation amongst orators, Mr. D. asked us what two groups within American culture still remained unrepresented when it came to the presidency. This was early-1996 — twelve years before Barack Obama would be elected.

The answer ended up being: Black people and women.

(Actually, Mr. D. — there also hadn’t been presidents with heritage from Latin America or Asia, or an Indigenous president, or an openly-LGBT+ president, or a non-Christian president; but, this was the 90s…so, of course, none of that “counted”).

Mr. D. then asked us in which year we predicted America would elect its first female president: 2000, 2004, 2008, 2012, 2016, or 2020.

By a show of hands, a majority of students chose 2008 or 2012.

Well, we’re at 2022 and still waiting. But I digress…

Next, Mr. D. asked us our opinion as to, once a woman finally is poised to get elected to the U.S. presidency, whether we thought it would be smarter for her to pick a male running mate or a female running mate.

Then, Mr. D. asked us to justify our positions.

When he called on me, I offered:

“Well, women are equally as competent as men…so why not have two women pair up and form their own female ‘dream team’ together?”

Yes, I actually used the word “competent” as an Eighth Grader. And yes, I do genuinely feel that way. Although, in hindsight, much like the example from our World War II discussion in Sixth Grade, I can see how there were more persuasive ways in which I should have articulated my views.

My classmate John-Paul (who’d also been in Mr. Wester’s Sixth Grade class with me) rumbled:

“I think it should be a man.”

To which Mr. D. weighed in:

“Yeah, I tend to think she should probably pick a man…just so there’s some balance on the ticket.”

Okay…

Although it’s not like the all-male tickets for 200+ years had provided much balance. But, anyway…

Mr. D. then solicited a show of hands from us…much like Mr. Wester had, two years earlier. From what I remember, I’d say a good three-quarters to four-fifths of the class expressed that our first female president should have a male vice-president. A minority (myself included) expressed that two women should run together on the same ticket.

Of course, years later, I would come to absolutely loathe the politics of Hillary Clinton.

But, Hillary aside, my perspective remains unchanged. There’s no reason why two women couldn’t skillfully run the country as our President and Vice-President.

My point in sharing these two stories is this: we should never back down from our convictions due to peer pressure.

I’ll take on the whole damn room, if I have to…even if I’m the only one harboring an unpopular opinion that flies in the face of “conventional wisdom.”

The difference is, unlike during my time as a middle schooler, I’ve now learned how to express my opinions with finesse and logic.

Imagine how much more amenable my classmates would have been to hearing me out if our middle school had actually bothered to teach critical thinking skills!

Click here to subscribe to my stories.