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Election 2008 Thu Nov 06 2008
Yes Kids Can. And Boy, Did They.
I think I'm finally emerging from the punchdrunk haze of the last 48 hours, and starting in on the "Choose Your Own Adventure" book that is about to be Illinois politics.
(For instance, Cong. Rahm Emanuel has accepted the position of President-Elect Obama's CoS. If ABC vacates his/her seat to run for the 5th CD seat, turn to page 14. If you think XYZ will jockey for ABC's now open seat, continue to page 19. My head already hurts.)
After reading a bajillion (that's a technical term, btw) columns and blog posts written by esteemed and politically-savvy insiders, I just stumbled upon some of the most honest, spot-on commentary I've seen for a while. Via Harlem:
Dear President Obama,
I want to say you are the bomb. I love all your speeches. Even my grandma does. I feel sorry for your grandmother but she's there up in heaven watching over you. When you get to the white house you will have our help.
I'm so happy that you are becoming president. Can you make a change about the cops? They need to pay more attention at the Lincoln Tunnel.
Write back.
Your friend,
Asia
These kids nail it. Go read more letters posted by their 4th grade teacher (and my dear friend) Lauren Rubinfeld at the Huffington Post.
— Aviva Gibbs / Comments (2)
Kenzo Shibata
/ November 6, 2008 4:48 PM
One of my freshmen, who attended the rally, explained how she realized the difference between conservative and progressive. She didn't use the terms.
She told me that she was watching McCain's concession speech, and while looking at the audience asked her god father, "Why is it that all of the people for McCain look the same? They're old and wh-(she stopped herself while relaying the story to me) caucasian and look like they have money? At the Obama party, there were people all ages and colors."
She told me that her godfather replied, "There are certain people in this country who want things to be the same as they used to be."
"Like when they had all the power?" she asked.
She got it. I was beaming.