Lately, I’ve been sitting with a heavy question: How do we keep going when the world feels like it’s narrowing? When freedom feels fragile and the news feels loud, it’s easy to feel small. But looking back at my own path, I’ve found that the best way to resist the chaos isn’t always a shout—sometimes, it’s a quiet, steady commitment to being human.
Finding Common Ground
The hardest part of this journey is looking past the “us vs. them” of modern politics. It’s easy to dismiss those we disagree with, but I see people every day who—despite their political leanings—practice radical kindness and charity. They feed the hungry; they help their neighbors. They remind me that our shared humanity is deeper than any ballot.
Resistance Through the Classroom
As an educator, my “fight” happens at a desk. In a world of misinformation, my goal is to help students build a healthy skepticism—not a cynical one, but a thoughtful one. I want them to develop their own values, independent of what any institution (including my own) tells them. If I can teach someone to think for themselves and use their education for good, that is a victory.
Etched in Stone
Yesterday, my wife and I visited a monument company to choose our headstone. Seeing our names and birthdates carved in granite, with that quiet, blank space waiting for the end, was a sobering “wake-up call.”
One day, that stone may be the only physical record that I was here. It’s a bittersweet thought, but it has made me more determined than ever to live fully. It reminds me that our time is the only currency we truly own.
The Power of “I Was Here”
I’ve realized that everything we do is a form of creativity. Creativity is how we prove to the universe that we mattered.
- My father did it by repairing cars, giving people back their pride.
- My mother did it by teaching home economics, improving the lives of thousands.
- I do it through teaching—by trying to leave a mark on a heart rather than just a page.
The Bible tells us to lay up treasures in heaven, but I believe the beauty we create on earth—a poem, a meal, a lesson, a conversation—leaves a lasting mark for good. This is my “soft subversion”: a refusal to be corrupted, a commitment to compassion, and a daily, creative act of saying, “I was here, and I cared.”