My daughter has been a frequent co-contributer to this blog, mostly behind the scenes in the form of ideas, inspiration and occasionally comments.  But several times she has also appeared in the form of blogs I have reposted, with understandable fatherly pride.  The responses have been amazing as she is a gifted writer.

This is no exception,  and may be her finest post to date.  She sent me this in response to the vitriolic comments over a blog I posted yesterday mocking the attempts to create an Obama Federal holiday.   I am immensely proud of her, not because she shares some of my conservative values, because she is unafraid to make her beliefs known. 

Enjoy ~ LSU

Once more, this now-eighteen year old has to just shake her head at what a group of grown adults can babble and scrabble about.

As I sat down to write, I originally aimed my focus at denouncing those who have posted some strange gibberish under my dad’s post about Obama-day. But after a few days that have left me emotionally exhausted (Including losing one of my co-workers to a heart attack) and drained, I decided to write something else, and to, perhaps, give someone out there a view into the mind of at least one of America’s youth.

My daughter attends a high school here locally and today they did a rally for Martin Luther King day.

To her surprise it was not what she expected it to be.  Here is her account:

It’s a sad day when any given student feels suppressed during an assembly about expression your rights. It’s a sad day when any given student looks around to her peers and wonders what exactly is wrong with her for not feeling the same. It’s a sad day when any given student gets angry about the suppression of her own opinion.

Today at my school was the Martin Luther King Jr. Day assembly. I sat down with my friends, prepared for an assembly discussing civil rights, the past, and what we can keep doing to avoid going back. I was prepared to shake my head at the lack of knowledge that racism wasn’t just black, but anyone else.

What I got was something completely uncalled for and left me flabbergasted.

Bumping this back to the top. 

Note to all:  My daughter is sincerely gratified and slightly overwhelmed at all the positive sentiments expressed here.  This blog and her poem has found its way into numerous forums and blogs, and she wishes to say thank you to everyone.

My daughter had an unsettling experience today.  Her class is preparing to read Huck Finn, the Mark Twain classic. 

As is common these days, the subject of its racially offensive elements came up, in her case in the form of a PBS Documentary involving efforts in other places to remove the book as racist. 

It may have been one of these:

http://www.twainweb.net/reviews/hfcoursepack.html
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/cultureshock/teachers/huck/section1_1.html

(it was the second one)

They need not have looked so far, Renton Schools dealt with this in 2003.

Well my daughter is a very open minded, and sensible girl.  In the discussion she stated that she felt the protests went too far, and that the book should be read because it contains our history and the reality of what slavery was, and that "we should look in the eye and face it".  That only by facing it can we make sure we don’t repeat it.  I agree.

Kayla’s last essay is on how she see the military. Seeing its veteran’s day I figured the timing was good.

Soldiers: American Heroes or American Disgraces?

Your first thought. "Whaaat? What does that mean?" It means just what it says. Are our soldiers Heroes or Disgraces to America? According to some people, Heroes. According to others, Disgraces.

When you think of a soldier, do you think of someone coming home in livery, or staying away in a grave? Do you think of millions of evil entities swarming around you to take your home, or someone come to save you from the clutches of an evil tyrant?

For many US citizens, they forget that the soldiers chose to go to defend the home they love. They view all soldiers as a group of one, as a toy of the government used to attack innocent people in helpless countries for one little mistake and steal their money.

Those of you who know me, know I love to write. With my sister being a published author I have often wondered if my enjoyment of writing is hereditary.

Well, I found my answer, in a way, when I first read the journal I will be sharing with you. Apparently it does.
This is one of three blog style essays my daughter Kayla, age 15 wrote. She didn’t write this for school, she just did it for fun.

So today I don’t write as a disgruntled moderate, or incensed citizen or even for amusement or entertainment.
I send you this as a proud daddy. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

**********

Racism
by Kayla Swenson

Racism. It’s something you don’t hear much nowadays except as a joke at a party. But it’s far from a joke. When some people hear ‘racism’, they think ‘Oh, like that time ago when African-Americans worked on plantations…’ or ‘Like World War II against the Japanese, but thats over now…’. Many people believe that racism is gone, left behind in the past, that we’ve reached a point without it. But they’re wrong, dead wrong.