When approached with criticism over Hamilton’s use of people of color to tell the stories of white people (including slave owners), actor Leslie Odom, Jr., who won a Tony and a Grammy for his role as Aaron Burr, issued a challenge to the next generation:

Here’s what I know. Lin wrote the story that was on his heart to write. I signed on to be a part of the show that I believed in. That was our leg of the race. Now it’s your turn.

I love this. You want it to be different, kid? Then get out and do it. It’s not anyone else’s responsibility to make the art you want to see.

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Over the last month of my study of French, some things are clicking that have never clicked before.

Instead of studying words, I’m studying sentences. That is making a huge difference.

For instance, I learned an important word that I somehow never noticed before — “ce que.” It did not appear on any vocab lists in my four years of high school French and it was not taught explicitly in any of the books, audio or video programs I’ve perused as an adult. But it’s kind of important. It basically just means “what,” as in “C’est ce que j’ai dit” (“That’s what I said”) or “C’est ce que je veux dire” (“That’s what I mean”).

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I can lump my middle school students into two brutally overgeneralized categories: those who crave drama and those who enjoy life without it.

Amusingly and frustratingly, a student of the first type almost always pretends to be the second. “I just don’t want all this drama, you know? But I just can’t seem to escape it.”

When it is pointed out to him that he could choose to associate with classmates who are drama-free, he will retort that everyone is full of drama and there is no alternative.

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The first time I went to Charleston, South Carolina, I was angry.

Despite Charleston’s notorious role as the busiest American port in the slave trade, I saw no evidence of its dark past as I strolled the cobblestone streets.

There’s a building dedicated to the Daughters of the Confederacy. There’s a major street named after John C. Calhoun, who defended slavery to the last and put up roadblocks to any initiatives to curtail it. There’s also a towering statue of him, right downtown.

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I grew up in a beach town in Southern Maine known for its excellent schools. For the most part, my education was pretty good. There were only three AP courses offered at the tiny high school, but the teachers were strong and the curriculum was solid. 

However, there was one gaping hole: world history.

It seemed like every year, we learned about American history beginning with Columbus and petering out around World War I. Usually, there was a field trip to the colonial history museum in the center of town, where we would churn butter and learn about the clothes and customs of the people of European descent who inhabited the village all the way back to 1652.

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