If you have, I’d bet one of two things: you’re one of the millions of Potter fans who have watched Harry, Ron and Hermione grow up and make something of themselves in the wide world of wizardry for the past ten years . . . or you’re someone like me, wholly Potter impaired, but desperately trying to combat the sweltering heat of summer we’ve found ourselves swimming through as of late.
Either way, let me humbly propose that you see it, and see it again . . . for the beautifully epic way it invites us to think about our community schools, and the roles we individually play in their success.
Just picture the scene. The black-shrift and soul-less Dementors hovered in the distance as darkness fell upon the high towered school. Within, under Headmaster Snipes’ steel-handed guidance, the poor institution already seemed to be faltering — its once brightly lit corridors now dark, its common rooms and halls reduced to encampments with the students sitting together in groups on the floors, disorganized and dispirited. Then, as Harry is discovered to have returned, the evil Voldemort descended with his dark magic to destroy the school.
No matter where we are on the ideological divide, it is easy for Wisconsinites to import our own villains into this scenario right now. Even if most state school districts have avoided massive layoffs and spending cuts this year, as Journal Sentinel reporter Erin Richards reported on June 16th, following the extraordinarily volatile dialogue on collective bargaining that took place in spring, the expansion of voucher programs around the state, as well as the budgetary decisions that have recently been made on our behalf concerning the future of public education, many of us feel locked in an epic battle for our own schools.
A battle, I might add, that some people are already treating as lost. I was devastated this May to discover that our next-door neighbors were putting their house up for sale to move into a new school district out of fear for the future of our own. They are just the sort of people that give a community — and a neighborhood school — its value; a couple with children the same age as our own, they are highly visible in the neighborhood as they walk their children to school, have an open door for friends and family members, a watchful eye for the neighborhood, many community ties, and are active in the PTA.
In the case the house doesn’t sell, they — with several other families whose children go to their school — open enrolled their children in a neighboring school system.
My point here is not to blame them. As the Roman poet Terence once said, “I am human, so nothing human is strange to me,” so too do I understand, quite viscerally, the motive of fear in facing our schools’ futures.
But, as sociologist Robert Bellah argues in The Good Society, it is through our words and choices, we create, and re-create the institutions, such as schools, that make life possible, that make life meaningful, and which, being created by us, thereby change us too.
The epic battle for the soul of Hogwarts in The Deathly Hallows reminds us of that too. As the darkness falls in the film, Hogwarts does not yield to an expectant unknowing, but experiences this sort of chaotic resurge in vitality, verve, and, strangely, optimism, as professors, parents and students eagerly begin taking a stake in the defense of their school under Professor McGonagall’s cry “Hogwarts is threatened! Man the boundaries. Protect us!”
Armed with their wands, the professors, parents and students create a nearly invisible shield that deflects the oncoming assault, each person creating a part of that life-preserving force about the school, a part that fuses to each other part to form a seamless, indistinguishable shell.
The beauty and the truth of it brought tears to my eyes.
No matter what is approaching from the horizon, there’s a similar magic we Muggles can wield in the here and now — being committed to sharing our time and talent in our children’s schools. This fall, for every parent who begins regularly communicating with other parents, becomes an active member of the PTA, volunteers to tutor, cut out activities for the teacher, or to be a scout leader, begins regularly communicating with teachers, attending school board meetings, and otherwise begins building social capitol in our schools, there will be one more slice in that force field that is put in place over each and every school in these uncertain times.
When our children see us physically and emotionally invested in their schools, they understand we are invested in them and they perform better. When the educators who teach our children see us physically and emotionally invested in their schools, they are more validated and motivated. When our communities are filled with schools that are so high functioning, their value increases exponentially for everyone within them.
I may not be up on my Muggles math with these calculations regarding social forces — after all, I teach literature — but I believe Hogwart’s beautifully spirited defense of herself within The Deathly Hallows can create in us a deep listening, reminding us to our best selves, inviting us to take a stake in our schools against all odds—with our minds, bodies, and souls.