We are starting a new verse in the song of the Free Speech Movement

 

We are starting a new verse in the song of the Free Speech Movement. When I look at the side by side photos UC Berkeley posted to commemorate the 50th Anniversary of the Free Speech Movement, I am struck by the difference of expressions between the photo of Mario Savio and the one of Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King. Savio, the student leader of the Berkeley protests that brought the Free Speech Movement to our national consciousness is smiling, and looks almost giddy, like he has just said something that has been validated by the crowd and he appreciates that they share his sense of humor. He flashes a peace sign in a casual way. Dr. King hails the crowd with his hand raised up like he has recognized a true friend in the crowd but if he is smiling, it is mostly an internal expression.    

 

Both of these individuals helped to move the story of justice forward in the last century, and the legacy of their contribution cannot be summed up in a side by side comparison of two single moments in time. For me, these photos represent the important perspective offered in recognition of a sense of time and place for everything, and how the future of a people as well as their day to day realities are connected to the place they come from. 

Indigenous cultures around the world identify their people in terms of their ancestral lands. Our family may come from the ancestral lands of the Cherokee and the Haudenosaunee, but the identity of our future must also take into account the place where our youngest child was born, in Berkeley, California. Berkeley is considered the birthplace of the Free Speech Movement that was formed by young people protesting a war they had good reason to speak out against in the 1960s. My father fought in that war, and the trauma he must have experienced, following orders he believed would preserve a just future for his grandchildren, is beyond my understanding. Still, I am part of that story, and my children are part of that story. Our Learning Story finds a way forward in our efforts to notice, recognize, and respond to the trauma of our own time by exploring the possibilities of what we might be ready to learn.  

 

When our Learning Stories study group from America was invited and received into the sacred language space of the Mana Tamariki School we were welcomed by the children, teachers, and spiritual leader in a traditional pōwhiri ceremony. We were shown how to welcome a guest in a way that had been forgotten in my family. A hundred children or so sang the long story of how the Māori people came from the stars and made their way to the land of the long white cloud, how the elder aunts and uncles of their tribe could be recognized in the natural world including nearby hills, rivers, and valleys of Palmerston North, and how we were being welcomed and becoming part of their story, which was now the story of our shared sense of place.

  

With their eyes wide open to reveal the white surrounding their irises, and strong voices full of the breath of their powerful spirit, every child from the youngest kindergartner to the graduating senior moved their body and bared their teeth, clothed in a manner appropriate for fierce warriors of their cultural traditions. At intervals, the singing paused for the spiritual leader to explain in the only English words spoken what the story was that we were now being made part of. We were prepared for all of this by our guide, and responded appropriately with songs of our own mixed American culture, and through the words of our own representative leader. 

We responded to the challenge of their leader with an offering of our friendship, to show fearlessness. We presented our gifts and were welcomed by the tribe with what will likely be the last hongi of that sort for some time. The pandemic that would sweep the world a few months later would prevent any person from rubbing noses with someone else like that, let alone a long row of Māori people lined up to rub noses with new friends, no matter how much we were part of each other's story. As part of the story, I recognize the significance of what was shared in that time, and the significance of all the places our people touch the earth for generations past and in the future.   

The places and the stories we have become part of are a source of strength, that give meaning to the opportunities we have to fulfill our purpose and make new Learning Stories. This purpose calls for us to notice, to recognize, and to respond to what is with what may be. Those are the three components of a Learning Story at the most basic level. 

We notice how people present themselves, how that reflects who they are and their place in history. Each of us has a different expression and way of presenting ourselves in the world because each of us has a different experience of what it means for justice to be recognized, and to have the voices of our people heard. We recognize what it is that we may be learning about. Just as individuals from the same generation believe different things, the cause of liberty and justice means something different to members of different generations in the same family. This recognition may allow us to move forward, and ensure further from one generation to the next. We respond with what we think we may be ready to learn about next. I think we are ready for a new verse in the song of the Free Speech Movement.

* GODSPEED stands for “Gather Only Data in Sync with the Purpose of Every Excellent Deed.”