Hope and Change

 Remember back in a different political time when Sarah Palin mocked the Obama followers, saying “How’s it going for you, that hopey-changey thing?” How irritating that was and how good it felt to be on the side of hope and change. But how painfully accurate those snarky Palin sentiments feel today. Most of the people in my close circle have stopped following the news, finding it too depressing and alarming. They are taking a break. Eventually they hope to figure out what to do next.

I have a niece who has a job in creating hope and change. Her job description has always seemed so vague and made-up and some of the cynical folks amongst us (me included) sort of discounted her job as not being real.

I stand corrected.

A few months ago, my niece Ella sent a message to her father Charles, my sister Anna and me, telling us that she had signed us up to participate in an all-day workshop at Oberlin. This was something about dialogue. We were meant to represent our various professions, and to talk about how dialogue is useful in our work. Or that’s what I understood. 

I didn’t think about it much, and I couldn’t quite believe that Ella had the chutzpah to just tell us what we were going to do on a November weekend. But, because we love Ella and Charles, we ended up going. She asked and we went. In my case, my whole crew had to prepare for a Saturday without me. That was not a big ask, but it was definitely an extra effort from everyone.

We drove straight through on the so-familiar route that the three of us have taken so many times in our lives – as children of alumni, as students, as alumni, as parents of students. And now, apparently, as parents/aunts of an alumna. We slept in Ella’s one bedroom apartment – me and Anna in a small double bed that was something of a hot dog bun, Charles on an air mattress, Ella on the couch. Already this story shows how passive we were about the plan. We let Ella invite us to sleep in her small apartment. We didn’t even behave like normal adults and stay in a hotel room with two double beds. We were thinking like Oberlin students, not like grown-ups with jobs.

The workshop was called a Summit.  This is the third of these annual events. There was a keynote speaker, there were break-out sessions, there was good food, and the setting was professional and lovely. It was held at the recently built Hotel at Oberlin, which replaced the dumpy and dark Oberlin Inn of our era. This one has Maya Lin’s name on a plaque, so she had something to do with it. Everything about the space was perfect for this event – scale, architecture, lighting, catering.

This was a voluntary workshop and students didn’t get any credit. They chose to come on a Saturday morning and spend a beautiful day indoors, listening and engaging in dialogue with adults of various professions from the outside world.

The content doesn’t really matter, and it’s not all that interesting. We learned about what Ella has been doing at her alma mater – she has been hosting a regular series of meetings, feeding people at each gathering (a huge task, cooking for 45 people three times a week, by herself as far as we can tell), and facilitating their learning of how to listen and speak in groups. There are groups that talk about gender issues, or racism, or other social justice topics. There is something called Inter Group Dialogue and something closely related called Barefoot Dialogue. Essentially, when you are in dialogue, you are not trying to convince anyone of anything. You are listening closely and learning about other people’s perspectives, trying to understand their experiences and views. There are silences to digest the information. There is no effort to reach agreement.

It seems like this might not end up with any evidence of progress, and yet it does change the conversation between people who disagree with each other, or who come from very different places. We sat at a table for meals and breaks with the same group of students. Most of them participate in these dialogues.

One of them is the facilitator for the Israel/Palestine dialogue. He comes from Pennsylvania, a Jew with a conservative background. He says at these gatherings they learn how much people care about the well-being of people in Gaza and Israel. The dialogues are fruitful.  I had been wondering why we never heard anything about Oberlin during this past year of protests and violence on campuses. Perhaps this is why. Maybe these dialogues have created an alternative to mindless chanting and unreasonable expectations. Maybe students and teachers have a place to listen and be heard about so many painful and important issues. Maybe there is learning that yields understanding, instead of closing down the school.

When we were presenting in these panel discussions, my siblings and I found ourselves ending up in some dark places as we talked about the future of this planet, or about the work of dealing with trauma patients. But the students were so earnest and attentive, and because of the framework of the dialogue method, we were all vulnerable, even with strangers. Charles and I both brought ourselves to tears at different points as we talked about what was scary and important about how we all make choices. This surprised us, but we forged on.

These students are so young and so earnest. A high proportion of them were international students. Many of them were athletes – their coaches had encouraged them to get up and spend the day doing this. There was a kid at our table who barely said a word, except for the obligatory introductions (name, pronouns, area of study, etc.) but when Anna asked him, “what’s your distance?” he perked right up and talked about his running. It sounded impressive – Anna told me later that he is running at the speed of four minute miles for his distances. He seemed like an unlikely person to participate in Barefoot Dialogue, but he stayed for the whole day.

The three of us left Oberlin feeling better about lots of things – the school, how it is putting resources into this kind of teaching, the students, the future. The whole day, there was no mention of the current political situation. I think it was a given, in that setting, that we are all feeling panic and distress. But we were there to practice listening with interest and compassion, and to find ways to better solutions, maybe, eventually.

This is not new, I know, but it was encouraging to be with some thoughtful people who are still holding hope for change. Go Ella.