Florida is, and always has been, my home. I was born here. I grew up here. I spent long summer days in the pool with friends and never lived more than a twenty-minute drive from the beach. I love my home — with all its Mickey Mouse regalia and lack of a temperature below fifty degrees Fahrenheit.
Florida is nicknamed “the sunshine state”, mainly due to its warm sunny days, sprawling orange groves, and generally easygoing attitude. No matter how far I have traveled or how appealing chilly nights by the fire sounded, I always longed to return to my sunny state which welcomed me with open arms and a community I felt lucky to call my own. In fact, the reason this place in which I have lived for my entire life seemed so comfortable, was because of the way I was made to feel at home within an intimate, caring group of people. In my first-grade classroom, with sunlight peeking through the windows, I met some of my closest friends to date. I was always the child who could not sleep the night before her first day of school out of excitement for what the next day might bring. I truly enjoyed school, to say the least.
During high school, my attitude toward school slightly shifted. No longer did I jump out of bed when the alarm went off at five o’clock. Like others, I rolled my eyes at another set of history notes and wondered how much of what I learned was actually useful. Looking back now, I can better understand “the point” of the last twelve years of schooling in a system I still view with apt fondness. It was not the organelles in a cell or list of SAT words memorized; it was the lessons on what it meant to be educated, and more, what it can mean to be uneducated.
Through even my worst days in school, I always received the guidance I needed. Sometimes, it was a deeper explanation of a lesson I was struggling with. Still, at other times, it was words of reassurance or a point of view I had not before considered. If anything, I credit my teachers with every piece of information I learned in school. The facts are readily available, but it was the means of effusion into young, malleable minds that not only shaped my academic success but also my character. I have learned so much from my teachers and friends over the past twelve years, I could never put it into words. It is not the assignments or exams I miss now — it is the smiling face of my friends in history class and struggling through math problems with my calculus buddy and discussing pop culture news with my teacher before class. My education was the culmination of everything that made me feel sheltered walking into school each day.
Of course, my education is far from over. The moment I walked across that stage in my blue cap and gown, I knew it would be the first of many graduations I would walk. But, just as a flower blooms from the initial seed planted in the ground, I promised myself to never forget each lesson I learned along the way. With the free education I received, I believe it is my job to give back to the system– teachers, peers, and friends– that for so long gave to me. The responsibility I hold is the reason I am bothered by the way my home, Florida, has dismantled an education system my entire person is built upon. Sometimes there is an opinion, and sometimes there is right and wrong.
Florida is the state of sunshine and rainbows, but, in the last few years, it has slowly become one of the epicenters of the intense political polarization and violence I have seen divide America. While I cannot speak on the multitude of ways politics has touched our state, I can highlight the one that speaks to me directly: education. Particularly in my last few years of high school, I have seen the direct impacts of the tug of war being played on Florida schools. In fact, just last week, Florida education officials approved new African American history standards which claim “how slaves developed skills which, in some instances, could be applied for their personal benefit” and lessons about acts of violence committed “against and by” African Americans. If that is not enough, the ‘Parental Rights and Education Law’ (also known as ‘Don’t Say Gay’) has been expanded to remove the certification of teachers who speak to students about gender identity/sexuality or agree to recognize a child’s preferred gender. For school media specialists, laws have been passed that facilitate the challenging and banning of books in the new school year.
In a few weeks, children of all ages in Florida will return to classrooms while I will be starting my first year of college at the University of Florida. While many of these new standards do not yet extend to the University level, I cannot help but fear for the future of those younger than I and for the teachers that played a vital role in developing my moral code. I wonder how the historical events I understand, like the Tulsa Massacre, will be understood differently by generations after me. I wonder if the same blanket of safety that covered me under the Florida school system will cover students questioning their sexuality or family circumstances. I even wonder if the names of books that have a permanent spot on my own bookshelf will be heard if they are muted by the “anti-woke” policies which seem to govern every aspect of education today.
At the end of the day, my message is this: Dear Florida, I love you and everything you have given me, but my education is not your political playground. We are no longer talking about minute details; we are talking about wiping a rich and beautiful history clean to support a twisted narrative about what it means to be American. Without the representation students deserve and the stories they need to hear… what is the point of learning? It may not be up to me. The standards and policymakers and agendas are determined by the state. But, when my state is making national headlines for our warped policies rather than our fresh orange juice — that is when I know there is a problem. The most magical place on earth is one that is open, free, and maybe not woke, but definitely awake.
”In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.” -George Orwell
Happy Living
*Please take some time to read up on recent Florida education laws. It is something worth fighting for, and power can only come through education. Below, I have linked a few sources to references.
chocolate and politics 