The Life Source for a Bright Future

Rationale

In designing my multicultural-education logo,
I chose to incorporate the image of the sun with Bank’s (2001) twelve “Essential Principles for Teaching and Learning in a Multicultural Society.” I chose to use the image of the sun because it carries symbolic significance in many diverse cultures. The sun also offers a unique illustration for students in understanding how knowledge is constructed. Furthermore, I chose to use the sun because I hoped to make a metaphoric connection between the sun’s role in regard to the Earth’s diverse ecosystems and Bank’s twelve essential principles and their role in regard to the many diverse educational communities within U.S. Finally, I chose to incorporate the image of the sun with Bank’s twelve essential principles because they offer both a symbolic and explicit reflection of my personal and professional stance in regard to multicultural education.

First, the sun has held symbolic significance in the most ancient human cultures. For example, both the Sumerians and Egyptians worshiped the sun. Furthermore, the sun has held religious or symbolic significance in a wide and diverse variety of cultures such as Greco-Roman, African, Chinese, Celtic, Germanic, Native American, Bedouin, Inuit, Maori, and many others. In these cultures, the sun is and has been recognized as significant in the lives of human beings — often viewed as central to life in all of its forms.

Although the perception of the sun is not uniform among cultures, all humans are united in recognizing the sun’s significance. In other words, we are united in our belief that the sun is important, but we are not uniform in the way in which we perceive or find cultural meaning in the sun. Because of its ancient and diverse cultural connections and because of its commonality, I believe the sun’s image works well as a visual representation for unity, not uniformity. In addition, our varied understanding of and our diverse cultural associations with the sun serve as an excellent illustration for how meaning is constructed based on experience as well as social, political, economic, and historical contexts.

According to modern science, the sun holds a uniquely significant role in regard to life on earth. It is the life source of all ecosystems — no matter how diverse. Without the sun, life would not exist. The sun provides both power and energy. It also provides the light we need in order to see.

Like various ecosystems, our educational communities are unique and diverse. Like the sun, Bank’s twelve essential principles provide members of educational communities with the power and energy to create and nurture truly democratic communities. These twelve principles illuminate the path that will lead to success in multicultural education — a success that will hopefully, one day, extend to our nation as a whole.

The image of the sun also serves to depict my personal and professional views of multicultural education. In my own European-American culture, the sun and its light symbolizes life, optimism, and knowledge, all three of which apply to my stance on multicultural education. Personally, I view multicultural education as essential to our lives as Americans as well as to our lives as members of the global society. I contend that we cannot sustain human life if we continue failing to understand one another and continue failing to work together for the common good.

We must, therefore, create and nurture a democratic society in order to survive, but in order to reach this goal, we must be knowledgeable about ourselves and others. We must foster empathy and tolerance. Multicultural education provides us with the hope for an egalitarian society and a plan for achieving such a society. I am highly optimistic that we can reach this goal, and I am committed to carrying out Bank’s principles as I work for effective multicultural education. I believe the image of the sun portrays the importance of understanding as well as captures my belief in, my optimism for, and my commitment to multicultural education.

Connections

In creating my logo, I worked to make explicit connections to Bank’s (2001) twelve principles. In fact, within the logo itself, each one of Bank’s principles is represented by one of the sun’s rays, demonstrating that each principle not only illuminates the status of our current educational system, but also lights the way toward a more equitable future.

Banks organizes his twelve principles into five categories: teacher learning; student learning; intergroup relations; school governance, organization and equity; and assessment. These categories emphasize that all aspects of the educational community must be committed to multicultural education in order for it to be successful. The image of the sun connects to each of these five categories in different ways.

Teacher learning (or professional development) should illuminate for teachers how “race, ethnicity, language, and social class interact to influence student behavior” (Banks). The sun denotes the importance of illumination, or knowledge, and serves as an example for teachers, showing how a student’s cultural and experiential background can shape every aspect of their reality, including learning. We, as teachers, might think of students as putting on different sunglasses before looking up at the sun. Each student has a unique pair of sunglasses, and the lens that they look through will shape the way in which they will perceive all things.

Student learning must also be informed by multicultural education principles. The sun image symbolizes the high standards and equitable opportunities that all students should have, for the sun is sky-high (thus, the sky is the limit), and its life-giving light is available for all people. As mentioned above, because of its universal yet diverse cultural relevance, the sun serves as an example of how meaning is constructed (see rationale above). The sun also symbolizes knowledge, illustrating how all students need to understand other cultures and have opportunities to develop positive (as depicted by the sun’s optimistic rays) interracial relationships.

Students might also discover through reading and relating that each of us wears sunglasses that shape how we see reality. Such experiences may even provide opportunities to try on someone else’s sunglasses and view reality from another’s perspective.

Creating and nurturing intergroup relationships is also important to multicultural education. Group membership should cross cultural, cognitive, social, experiential and other boundaries. Just as the sun’s rays are not bound by such categories, students should never be limited by categories. Instead, they should cross categorical lines and interact with many different kinds of people. Such experiences will permit them to touch and be touched by the lives of those who are different from them. Such experiences will be like walking out of a dark room into the sunshine, illuminating the complex nature of diversity and revealing stereotypes and discrimination as false and damaging.

The way in which a school is governed and organized must be conducive to multicultural education. Power and resources should be equally distributed and shared among a school’s community members as well as among all public schools. Sunlight is not doled out to people according to race, gender, ethnicity, religion, socio-economic status, sexual orientation, age, physical or cognitive ability, or any other discriminating factor. Everyone has equal access to the sun’s rays. Such equity serves as an example for school communities.

Finally, educators need to employ a variety of assessment methods that are culturally sensitive and that evaluate multifaceted social and cognitive abilities. Students should have an equal opportunity to demonstrate their learning in ways that reflect their values and cultural preferences and in ways that best showcase their talents and abilities. Doing so further illuminates and respects diversity and also provides each student a chance at having a day in the sun.

January, 2009

Article Reference

Banks, J. A. (2001). Diversity within unity: Essential principles for teaching and learning in a multicultural society. New Horizons for Learning.  Accessed on January 25, 2009 from http:// www.newhorizons.org/ strategies/ multicultural/ banks.htm

A is for Adoption — love that transcends, love that ignites a deep-down drive for understanding.
           Leaning over my scrambled eggs at Sunday breakfast,
                      I discovered it—
           my unbiological relation to three of four grandparents.
                      I was seven.
           “No, you’re not adopted, but your father is, and,
                      to some extent, so am I.”
           “What?” I remember starring down at my lumpy eggs.
           Were they still my grandparents?—I wondered.
           Was I still part Irish, part Cheyenne, part German?
           Could I still claim relation to the man who rode
                      with Teddy Roosevelt?
           Over time, I came to understand.
           We are connected not by twin helices but by vulnerability,
                      generosity, respect, love and a shared life.
           Although my blood, bones, and skin may not match
                      those of my ancestors, my culture and traditions do.
           My parents’ genetic history remains like an unopened
                      Christmas present —
           something unknown and constantly re-imagined.
           A catalyst for creativity.
           Adoption continues to shape who I am and who I will be.
           As an adult, I have witnessed its influence anew.
           I experience it in the dark, questioning eyes
                      of my Korean-born God-daughters, and,
           as my husband and I prepare to adopt our children
                      from Haiti,
           I am beginning to understand its power for enlightenment
                      and change.

           .... and

A is for Art, the transmission of spirit.
           My mother bequeathed, shaman-like, the wisdom
                      of such ancient communication.
           She showed me how art permits even blasphemous
                      conversation.
           It seeps beyond categories, borders, and barriers.
           It bounds across stasis, causing revolutions of ripples.
           In the act of creating, one finds worth in wondering,
                      meaning in the mundane.
           Beneath its radiance awareness blooms.

B is for Bigotry and Blindness, both equally destructive.
           My father was a bigot, and he hand-fed me his diet
                      of willful ignorance—
           a diet rich in fear and hatred, disregard and rage.
           He fluently spoke the language common
                      to Southern American bigots,
           often twisting the words and gestures into demeaning
                      slices of humor.
           Sometimes, I could see flashes of disapproval
                      in my mother’s downward gaze.
           But, she said little or nothing and just walked away.
           He flew both the Texas and rebel flags proudly
                      in our front yard and
           told me harrowing tales of the Texas Revolution
                      and of South’s noble gallantry.
           He responded to bussing by sending me to private school,
           stating that his decision was necessary “for my protection.”
           At the time, I wondered what he meant by this little phrase,
           but, being preoccupied with horses, I failed to inquire.
           After their divorce, my mother’s voice grew stronger.
           Her beliefs, in fact, were not my father’s at all.
           At school I became friends with those he condemned, and
           these experiences together with my formal education
                      alerted me to his poison.
           But it was teaching and adoption that have exposed
                      my ongoing blindness,
           causing me to recognize injustices I had not noticed before.
           Now I strive each day to improve my vision
                      and to work for equality,
           yet I still find my vision faltering when I try to see
                      the pain of the bigot.

C is for Class, we were somewhere in the middle.
           A middle class family sprung from working class roots;
           we weren’t rich and we weren’t poor.
           My father was a stock broker, my mother an artist
           Both had the privilege of attending college.
           I grew up eating casseroles, roast, and Jello.
           In the eyes of our extended family, we were “living high.”
           But, the students at my school held a different perspective.
           I attended a private school from 6th to 12th grade —
           a place where I wore plaid tartan skirts
                      and knee-high socks every day.
           Most of the students were of the wealthy elite —
           Some were from old money, the others
                      were from new money.
           From their perspective, I was someone
                      from no money at all.
           Growing up surrounded by such conflicting views,
           I developed my opinion of class in America.

D is for Dallas, the city in which I was raised.
           Sipping iced tea on suburban lawns,
                      spending Saturdays at the mall,
           Sky scrappers, theaters, amusement parks, museums,
           Hot summers, brown winters
           The Kennedy Center, the Trinity River,
           Women wearing muumuus—still in their curlers
           Women with French manicures —
                      overdressed for grocery shopping
           Deep Ellum, the Botanical gardens,
           Sixteen-year-olds driving red Ferraris;
           Homeless men dozing over library books.
           People who are like me, people who are different.
           The wealthy, the poor, and those of us in the middle.
           Diversity in all respects.
           People of different races, ethnicities, and religions.
           Men holding hands as they walk in the park.
           Spanish, English, Spanglish and TexMex,
           Immigrants — legal and illegal — working hard everyday.
           The Greek food festival, the Dallas symphony Orchestra.
           The Cowboys, the Mavericks, The Rangers, and
                      The Stars
           By the way, who was it, did you say, that shot J.R.?

E is for the Exceptionalities — in other words, how I am different from most.
           Sometimes I believe I am a species other than human —
           A conscious creature endowed with alien senses,
                      abilities, and limitations.
           Perhaps as a baby, I somehow metamorphosized
                      overnight
           and, at dawn, emerged, insect-like, from my blanketed crib.
           Yet, unlike Kafka’s Gregor, my insides, not my outsides,
                      were transformed.
           Outwardly, I look pretty much like a regular human,
           yet, it would be wrong to assume that my insides
                      match my outsides.
           You see, on the inside, I lack many human aptitudes
                      that are considered inherent,
           so when onlookers notice such lackings,
           they often form conclusions that serve to categorize me.
           Some interpret my failures as rude and disrespectful;
           Some conclude that I am not living up to my potential;
           Others declare me peculiar, incompetent, or dull.
           They will never understand how hard I work,
                      as an insect, living in a human world.
           In the light of such judgments, I feel isolated, unloved,
                      and utterly misunderstood.
           However, there are some — precious some — who see
                      something different;
           these are the tender ones who take time to look deeply.
           They are the ones who notice not my failures but my efforts.
           Indeed their generous spirit leads to something
                      much greater,
           for they sense and reveal the beauty that’s inside me.
           They notice my curious abilities and call them amazing.
           Their encouragement and kindness have literally saved me.
           Because of them I understand that I too can help others.
           It is for them, the tender ones, that I, like a cricket, do sing.

F is for Female, Feminine, Feminist
           Girls were sissies!
           They were either crying or swooning.
           I hated them for not being able to fend for themselves.
           They were silly and decorative and couldn’t have fun.
           They couldn’t ride horses, get muddy, collect rocks,
                      or climb trees.
           They also couldn’t be heroes, and they didn’t seem brave,
                      so
           I declared myself a tomboy and refused to wear dresses.
           For a long time, I struggled with being female.
           The people I read about or whom I admired were men.
           I longed for women role models who were heroes
                      and not heroines.
           Even though such women existed, I hadn’t been able
                      to find them.
           Then I found Jane Goodall, and my heart soared.
           Soon I found others like Harriet Tubman and
                      Louisa May Alcott.
           Suddenly, my idea of being a woman started to change.
           My transformation became complete
                      when I entered college.
           For me reading feminist theory was like
                      flipping on the lights.

G is for Goal Keeper — teamwork and leadership.
           Soccer was popular in Texas long before it took root
                      in other states.
           Perhaps this phenomenon resulted as a result of
                      Mexican-Americans’ influence.
           At age five, I played my first game.
           My first coach was my father; my position, goal keeper.
           I started off poorly,
           But I worked hard to improve.
           By the time I was a senior,
           I received such honors as MVP, all-conference,
                      and all-state.
           Although such awards were immediately gratifying,
           the wisdom I gained as a player has been much more
                      significant.
           Soccer gave me confidence, self-satisfaction, and
                      a way to vent.
           It also taught me how to be a team player —
           to make decisions with and for the team, rather than
                      for myself.
           Finally, it taught me that true leadership comes,
                      not from power, but
           from the love for fellow players and having a genuine
                      concern for the team.

H is for Heterosexual — yes, I’m a feminist AND I love men.
           My first love was Captain James T. Kirk
                      of the Starship Enterprise.
           In fact, my love for him must have started
           even before my brain had the ability to preserve thoughts
                      into memory.
           I loved Kirk’s hair, his confidence, his eyes, his smile.
           I loved his boots and the way he carried himself
                      when he walked.
           I guess, somehow, I knew I was heterosexual
                      even before I could talk.
           When I came to college, I met and befriended
                      a young man from Hunstville.
           A man with a sexual orientation that differed from mine.
           He told me one night while we were at dinner
           that he loved Captain Kirk even before he could talk.
           He loved Kirk’s hair, his confidence, his eyes,
                      and his smile.
           He loved his boots and the way he carried himself
                      when he walked.
           We laughed together at our shared and innocent crush
           and marveled at our profound awareness
                      at so young an age.
           But it was not this shared experience that causes me
                      to remember
           this moment even after several years.
           Rather, it was the different way in which we were treated.
           When I did learn to talk, I quickly began to share my
                      feelings with family and friends.
           I declared my love for Kirk and discussed
                      our marriage intentions.
           Such talk made people chuckle with crescent-shaped eyes.
           My friend’s experience was decidedly different.
           At first, he expressed declarations similar to mine.
           He loved Kirk and planned to marry him someday,
           yet, his talk caused people to grimace, cough,
                      or turn away.
           Eventually, he learned to keep his thoughts to himself.

I is for Independence, Ingenuity, and Industriousness — all three of which were highly prized in my family
           In my family, I was told to
           be creative, be industrious, and be self-reliant
           and that asking for help is just a form of defeat.
           People made their own luck, my grandfather would say,
           if, he added, they worked hard, were ingenuous
                      and self reliant.
           This, anyway, was the resounding creed.
           And this idea was played and replayed both at home
                      and at school.
           Emerson and Thoreau carried the tune,
           and historians and scholars kept up the beat,
           by neatly tucking supportive parables into each
                      of my text books.
           The mantra was played on television and in film as well.
           By the time I was grown, it seemed a commonsensical
                      thing.
           But now I understand that this creed is part of mainstream
                      American culture.
           While I continue to value independence, ingenuity,
                      and industriousness,
           I have also come to recognize their potential for
                      producing problematic perceptions —
           one of which is the propensity to blame the victim.

J is for John, my beloved, my soul mate, my muse, my husband.
           In all the world, you are what I value most.
           Over-wrought words are too feeble to describe you.
           I’d have to invent a new language to express what you
                      mean to me.
           You are the most beautiful person I know,
                      and I love you with all of my heart and soul.

K is for Kinship — Brady Bunch Style.
           When my mom remarried,
           I suddenly became a step-daughter and a step-sister.
           When we formed a family, we shared our culture
                      and family traditions.
           My mom and I shared our Irish, German, and Native
                      American culture.
           We taught them about shamrocks and stone circles,
           St. Patrick’s Day, Halloween, and Christmas.
           I taught my step-sister how to bead elk-skin moccasins.
           She and my step-dad taught us about the Jewish tradition.
           We learned about Yahweh and the Torah;
           Shalom; Shabbat, Rabbis, temples, and Yamachas.
           We learned about Hebrew and Yiddish,
           and learned words such as chutzpah and moxie.
           We ate Jewish cuisine and attended bar mitzvahs
                      and bat mitzvahs.
           We learned about Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.
           They taught us about dreidels, menorahs, and the
                      festival of lights.

L is for Literature — intimate discovery
           Literature affords us the power to do wondrous things.
           It can open doors to far away times and places:
           Allow us to walk the streets of ancient Baghdad
                      alongside Scheherazade
           or become a knight and joust with Sir Gawain.
           Literature can take us to places we’ve never dreamed of,
           like Utopia, Middle Earth, or Tralfamadore.
           Through literature, we can experience another person’s
                      pain;
           we can witness first-hand Frederick Douglas’s experiences
                      as a slave.
           We can also come to understand the traditions and values
                      of another culture;
           such knowledge may build bridges that carry us over
                      painful misunderstandings.
           Literature allows us to see the world through another
                      person’s eyes.
           Literature may even change the way we speak or think.
           Through literature, we may gain insight on things we think
                      we know,
           like our home state, our hometown, our family, ourselves.
           Reading literature is different from reading a book
                      of broad information,
           for literature is intimate and personal
           and unfolds in ways that ignite our imagination.

M is for Music — portraiture of life and emotion.
           Music is by far the most powerful art form,
           for music has the ability to expose a person’s soul
                      completely.
           By listening, we experience concentrated emotion.
           Like our lives, music’s splendor comes only in passing;
           it moves, as we do, through time and space,
           pressing ever forward toward its end and meaning;
           we find its transience both joyous and heartbreaking.
           We long to contain it, to force it to stand still,
           yet we know that such actions cause its evaporation.
           In my life, art, literature, and music have played
                      spiritual roles.
           Yet of these three, music has been the most influential.
           It has inspired me, angered me, comforted me,
           and caused me to think.
           It has bestowed innumerable opportunities for growth
                      and understanding.

N is for Neither
           In reference to my current age, I am neither young
                      nor old,
           Most of the time, I feel as if I have never grown up.
           I share perspectives with those of the Hip Hop Generation.
           Being my age, makes me who I am at the moment,
           but I remember what it was like to be younger,
           and I look forward to understanding what it means
                      to grow older.

O is for Optimistic and P is for Pessimist
           All Americans have heard the following metaphor,
           The glass is half full or the glass is half empty.
           Yet, I’ve always found this scenario lacking —
           it does not provide me with enough of the story.
           You see, my perceptions have always been dependent
                      on context, so
           to the originator of this metaphor I address the following
                      question:
           Did someone just fill the glass or did someone just pour
                      some of the contents out?
           Such details, in my opinion, make all the difference.
           If the glass was once empty but has recently been filled,
                      I feel optimistic;
           however, if the glass was once full and recently lost
                      contents, I feel pessimistic.

Q is for Questions (????) — Beautiful, Wonderful Questions
           Questions, I think, are decidedly underrated.
           They’re not stupid or tedious, not fussy or boring.
           Questions, in fact, are really quite amazing.
           They motivate us to reflect, analyze, and evaluate.
           They serve as a vehicle for critical thinking.
           We use them to clarify and avoid misinterpretation.
           Questions help us understand and
           are the underlying reason for learning
           and the rationale behind education.
           We need to encourage questions
           and strive to find the bravery to ask
           and the patience to listen.

R is for Race
           In America, my race is the race of privilege.
           My light skin and blue eyes broadcast labels
           like white, Caucasian, and European American.
           Within a world of white privilege, I have existed
           but have only recently begun to truly understand
           what this means and how I have benefitted.
           Oh, of course I used to think myself
           enlightened and progressive. 
           I declared my convictions to fight for equality,
           yet, I never took the time to comprehend
           the meaning behind such a proclamation.
           I have since come to the conclusion that
           the more I learn about race and its role in our society,
           the more I realize how much more I need to know.
           Deciding to adopt a baby of a different race
           has sent my mind looping and set me on a mission to learn
           about African American cultures, languages, and
                      communities.
           Such an education has compelled me
           to consider issues I’ve never considered before.
           For example, U.S. Caucasian parents of Caucasian
                      children
           have more options than others in terms of places to live.
           They know without thinking that, no matter what state
                      they choose,
           they will find people who look like them and
           people who will reinforce the principles of what it means
                      to be white.
           Other races do not have things so easy,
           their choices are limited.
           Of course, one might argue that people don’t need to live
           among people who look like them, but this statement
           is usually issued from a position of privilege.
           Conversely, minorities know how imperative
           a supportive community can be.
           Learning about African American culture
           from the perspective of a prospective parent has been
                      informing.
           I have become more capable of seeing
           the extensive inequalities at work in our nation,
           and, frankly, what I have uncovered thus far
           has been quite shocking.

S is for Spirituality — an eclectic compilation
           My parents were raised in the Baptist faith,
           and their experiences at their particular church
           seem to have scarred them for life.
           My father’s reaction has been to renounce religion
                      altogether,
           and my mother has become an active Unitarian.
           My own experience with religion has been quite different
                      from theirs.
           Unlike my parents, I grew up within a highly diverse
                      religious environment.
           I attended an Episcopalian school, which ensured
           that I participated in chapel each week day.
           Outside of school, I was surrounded
           by my father’s atheism, my mother’s Unitarianism,
           and my step-father’s Judaism.
           My mother made sure that I was informed of the world’s
                      religions.
           At home we studied various Native American beliefs
                      as well as
           Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, Judaism, Taoism, Islam,
                      Christianity and Wiccan.
           I admire and have adopted aspects of each;
                      however, in the end,
           I consider myself a Christian and, more specifically,
           a Quaker — or a member of the Society of Friends.
           I connect with the Quaker’s personal relationship with God
           and believe in their principle that God’s light shines
                      in everyone.
           I also especially admire their historical and current belief
                      in equality
           and their conviction to work for social justice.

T is for Texas — a kind of religion.
           I was raised in Texas, the Lone Star State,
           but identify, now, more with Arkansas.
           My father disapproves, of course.
           He is a dyed-in-the-wool Texas man.
           I’m sure you know the kind;
           For him, being a Texan is a religion. 
           Nothing demonstrates this quality better
           than the night I was born.
           We were in Oklahoma, much to my father’s chagrin,
           and had moved there for my father’s job.
           We only lived in Oklahoma for a few months;
           yet, it so happened that within those months, I was born.
           On that snowy February night, my father brought with him
           a box of dirt he had excavated from the Promised Land.
           At the hospital, he placed this box in a strategic position.
           Now, thanks to him, I can proudly claim,
                      as all true Texans do,
           that I was born on Texas soil.

U is for United States citizen
           I am a U.S. citizen whose faith in America
           has only recently been restored.
           At this year’s inauguration, I cried tears of joy.

V is for Vernacular
           My native language is English
           although mine is the Southern vernacular version.
           I have taken classes to learn French but am far from fluent;
           I am currently trying to learn Haitian Creole.
           I find linguistics fascinating,
           and the connections between
           language and culture and language and power
           intrigue me.

W is for Wilderness — a place of adventure a place of restoration
           Wilderness provides a marvelous dichotomy,
           it is — at the same time — both dangerous and peaceful.
           The dangers of nature awaken my senses,
           The pleasures and pains of the past and the hope
                      and anxiety for the future
           are suddenly extinguished.
           I exist in the present,
           and I experience the peace and restoration
                      that comes with it.

X is for the Unknown
           Because of adoption, my genetic ethnicity is mostly
                      unknown.
           With every stranger I meet, I wonder if they could be
                      a relation.
           There are times when I long to know certain things,
           like where did the shape of my fingers come from.
           There are also times when I feel pangs of envy
           when other people recount the chain of their lineage.
           At other times, I find a kind of freedom in the unknown.

Y is for Yuletide — Christmas time is here.
           Christmas has, for me, been an important celebration.
           It is magical and spiritual —
           an opportunity to take the time to enjoy family and friends,
           a chance to see the world as a child again.
           Most of all, I cherish Christmas because it celebrates love
           and refuses to let love be dismissed as something
                      sentimental or sappy.

Z is for Zoology — in this case, my love for animals
           I cannot imagine my life without animals.
           They have been my faithful friends no matter the situation.
           In fact, I know that, without them, I would be a different
                      person.
           Each member of my animal family has taught me
           about responsibility and respect, about differences
                      and similarities,
           about caring and empathy,
           and the necessity of love.

February 22, 2009

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