This I Believe--NPR

A few weeks ago, I gave my honors US literature students an assignment related to the "This I Believe" series on NPR. My 11th graders continue to impress me with their thoughts, desires, and experiences thus far in their lives. Their beliefs included hope, integrity, service, making a different, not letting expectations get the best of you, and making the most of the opportunities in front of you.

I decided to join them in their writing assignment. My thoughts are pasted below. For more information about this NPR series, visit This I Believe.

When asked to “describe myself” for a blog or Facebook profile, I struggle with writer’s block. If one truly knew me, such a box would be unnecessary. If I truly knew those around me, I wouldn’t need a Cliff’s Notes version of their life. I live in a world of interconnectedness. I can log-on and plug in to the lives of countless “friends” stationed in far corners of the globe, yet despite my connectedness a longing still resonates in my heart.

I believe in the power of community. Not one online, not a physical conglomeration of buildings, but one of the heart. A place where transparency unites, encourages, affirms and nurtures people.

In my six years of teaching, I have found literature echoing the cries of my heart most this year, perhaps I have learned to see deeper into the hearts of the characters formed by bygone authors or perhaps my perspective has shifted, been sifted and now sees deeper into not only the literary soul, but the soul of mankind.

In her essay “The Mortgaged Heart”, Carson McCullers writes, “It has been said that loneliness is the great American malady. What is the nature of this loneliness? It would seem essentially to be a quest for identity.”

What then is McCullers saying? If one feels lonely, has the community surrounding that individual let him down by not affirming who he is? Perhaps, but this longing to be known is not limited to McCullers’ essay.

In Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Victor’s creature, filled with a desperate longing, weeps over the absence of human contact in his life—society has only seen his hideous exterior and missed the tenderness of his sensitive heart. He longs to be affirmed by the society surrounding him and more importantly his creator.

Emily Webb, in Thornton Wilder’s Our Town, admonishes her mother for not “seeing” her for who she is, for not looking past the tasks of daily life to affirm her daughter, love her, and encourage her.

Community can mean a variety of things. It can stretch a broad streak and encompass society as a whole or be as narrow as a family.

In her essay, McCullers goes on to say, “Love is affirmation; it motivates the yes responses and the sense of wider communication. Love casts out fear, and in the security of this togetherness we find contentment, courage. We no longer fear the age-old haunting questions: ‘Who am I?’ ‘Why am I?’ ‘Where am I going?’—and having cast out fear, we can be honest and charitable.”

Togetherness. Honesty. Charity. Love. Glue that solidifies a community. How do I create a community that values these things? Only when I extend myself into a state of vulnerability can I expect others to open up. Only when I seek to look past my own need for affirmation and acceptance in order to make someone’s heart feel welcomed, validated and at home will I see true community fulfilled.

The lives of my friends are literally at my fingertips, but their hearts and their desires, at times, seem light years away. Everyone has a story to share. Everyone has a need to express. Everyone deserves a loving, transparent and supporting community to make them feel at home. This I believe.