I’ve always had a tendency to suppress negative feelings and reactions when life gets ugly. While this is no doubt unhealthy, the real problem is that they tend to later escape in response to (apparently) unrelated situations. I’ve gotten much better over the years at being mad about whatever I’m actually mad about, sad over whatever I’m actually sad about, etc. In recent years, however, as times have become a bit too “interesting”, I’ve noticed it happening again.

By itself, this doesn’t merit a written confessional, but I think I’m seeing it happening with other people more and more often. Since not everyone is accustomed to the dynamics of this particular slice of emotional dysfunction, I figured I’d share – starting with a few mundane, real life examples.

A few nights ago, my Dallas Stars played the St. Louis Blues on the first night of a home-and-home to finish off the regular season for both teams. Unlike most regular season games, this one was nationally broadcast, which comes with its own headaches. Nationally televised games tend to use way too many commentators in the studio and at the game. They’re usually all ex-players from the 1970s who’ve known one another for longer than anyone on the ice has been alive. As a result, the majority of the broadcast is spent on insider jokes no one else understands and an excessive amount of forced joviality – “KAW KAW KAW KAW KAW! YOU’RE BALD! KAW KAW KAW KAW KAW! LOOK AT THIS FOOTAGE OF YOU FROM 1893!” It’s really quite maddening – but sadly, I’m used to that part.

This particular night, there was a 30 minute pregame segment leading up to the game. The broadcast spent about 60 seconds talking about a rookie making his debut for the Blues (who were already well out of playoff contention) and the rest fawning over my Stars (who’ll finish first or second in their division this season) and KAW KAW-ing at one another.

I thought I was going to have a stroke, I was so infuriated.

The thing is, I hate the Blues. They’re one of the few teams for which I have no sympathy, ever. I don’t love the city. I despise their playing style. I’ve decided they’re all very bad people individually, although I have nothing on which to base this other than my own hockey psychosis. It’s bad enough that I actually rooted for the Boston Bruins a few years ago when they met the Blues in the Stanley Cup playoffs, which is like hoping the rattlesnake bite gets you out of going to the dentist.

But how dare they not even talk about the other team!!! How dare they treat a club that won the Cup only a few years ago merely as an accessory for their current darlings to crush. The Blues have a huge fan base. They buy tickets. They stream games. They buy official NHL products. How $#%&ing disrespectful to completely marginalize them based on your own giddiness for their opponent.

Only… what do I care?!? I love the Stars. They’re MY team! I’m glad they’re finally getting some positive attention (although few honestly believe they’re likely to make it past a few rounds). But we’ve been that “other” team before – far more often than we’ve been the crush-of-the-day for the withered pantheon trotted out by ABC or ESPN or TNT every time they deign to broadcast God’s own sport. We’ve been talked about like an accessory for other teams – the NHL version of the Washington Generals while EVERY OTHER TEAM was the Harlem Globetrotters. I don’t wish that on anyone.

Not even Blues fans.

As someone who’s been ‘round the block a few times with this pattern, let me tell you – most of my outrage wasn’t really about the broadcast. That was the trigger, sure – but the fact that I couldn’t even enjoy the game for the first hour? That I had to do deep breathing exercises to release the tension in my chest? That my very patient wife finally had to shift into slightly serious mode and tell me to LET. IT. GO? My reactions were totally out of proportion to the sins of those provoking me.

We need to consider why that might be, but I should probably include at least one school-related example first.

School leadership announced just before Winter Break that we’d be including a “Homeroom Period” once a week with an altered schedule to accommodate. We were told that any resistance to this suggested a fear of “innovation,” despite how many times the district has tried this exact same plan over the past twenty years without results or even minor modifications. We were assured that teachers would love it because many of the various club meetings, college visits to the school, picture retakes, and whatever else normally interrupts class randomly throughout the week, could be done during “Homeroom” now – so, yay!

Yesterday, during FIRST HOUR (which is very much NOT “Homeroom”), we received a school-wide announcement to check our email (code for “we couldn’t be bothered to let you know about this ahead of time”) for a list of students being called away for a “leadership” group photo of some sort. Setting aside that it was first hour, meaning the majority of our young “leaders” were unlikely to be at school yet, this was EXACTLY the sort of thing we were assured would be done through “Homeroom.” To date, that’s happened exactly zero times – while the interruptions to real class time continue unabated.

But… why should I care?!? We weren’t doing anything life-altering that period, and the two kids I lost as a result were no great sacrifice. And yet, the principle of the matter grated its idealistic nails across my soul’s ragged chalkboard, and I found myself fussing about it to any adult who’d listen for the rest of the day.

Even by my standards, that’s a bit out of whack. Sure, I had every right to be annoyed. What didn’t make sense was the intensity of my reaction, and how long it took for me to move past it. I mean, come on – that’s not healthy, right?

People who stay parked at the pump while they wander the aisles buying chips and sodas no matter how many cars are lined up waiting to get gas. Motivational signs outside of local businesses which are condescendingly trite and misspelled at the same time. Companies with endless, automated phone menus which never actually connect you to anyone who can answer your question. Folks who play stupid videos on their phone at distorted volumes in waiting rooms or restaurants. Technical FAQs which tell you to select an option from the dropdown menu that’s not actually in the dropdown menu.

There are plenty of valid reasons to be annoyed or even angry in daily life, but what I’ve had to accept over the years is that – for me, at least – my reaction to such minor irritants is often more indicative of the many things I try to ignore or accommodate, despite the fact that they’re way more important and should be having a much greater immediate impact.

Republicans are pushing new pro-hate crime legislation in my state? Well, whatchagonnado? Time for Big Bang Theory! The faith community continues to rewrite the Gospels as an extended celebration of guns, wealth, and whiteness? Those crazy Christians, amiright? Hey, who wants pizza?! I can’t fix the endless parade of issues plaguing my dear students in their homes, heads, and hearts – let alone win them over to the wonders of passing U.S. History – no matter how much I love them and want to make it better. So many of them are so angry, so broken, and so lost. But, hey – summers off, yes? Refer them to the social worker then push on with that timeline project!

I’m not even convinced it’s all hopeless. I believe there are things which COULD be done to make a positive difference… I just can’t imagine having the energy to even focus enough to try.

Please understand, my life is not bad. This isn’t a thinly veiled cry for help so much as a calculated risk that maybe other people are dealing with something similar and may find some comfort in discovering it’s not just them. (Yeah, yeah – I’m being touchy-feely. I’d say “so sue me,” but my state representatives are currently working on a way to make that actually happen, so…)

This is a reminder to myself and anyone who’s read this far that when we’re tired or discouraged or worried or bewildered, we tend to fall back on old habits and mindsets, whether they were healthy for us in the first place or not. For me, that means that when I think I’m setting aside my outrage, my despair, my discouragement over the things I keep learning about my country and at least half of its voting citizens, I’m actually storing it up for later release – often in response to far less provocative situations.

The fact that it’s beginning to reappear suggests it’s long past time for me to take a time out and seriously reconsider how I’m managing stress and the insanity around us. By itself, that’s not a magical fix. I’ll revisit some positive habits and adjust some of my attitudes, and probably grow a bit as a result. But eventually things will get weird again, and I’ll find myself barking at the car in front of me using language that leaves acid burns on my tongue and suggests a complete lack of familiarity with the limits of human anatomy.

That’s OK. We don’t need to figure it all out this time around. The key is to notice, own it, and adjust – ourselves and our approach first. The rest of the world isn’t likely to change… especially if we’re too discouraged and angry and broken to help make it happen.

One of the minor downsides to teaching ancient history for nearly half the year is that there simply aren’t the multitude of cool documents – letters, speeches, diaries, newspaper articles, and the like – which make U.S. or European History so naturally freakin’ awesome.

Sure, there are primary sources – statues, ceramics, broken bits of weaponry and whatnot. There are even textual remains – stuff carved into stone, bits of preserved parchments, maybe a book or two. These things are essential to the study of history and interesting enough in their own ancienty ways. I’m not trying to downplay the glories of Sanskrit or the impact of ancient law codes, or to question the value of innumerable two-line poems about dew on the grass sleeping in winter.

But in terms of modern engagement? They’re, well… challenging.

A woman’s duties are to cook the five grains, heat the wine, look after her parents-in-law, make clothes, and that is all! … She must follow the “three submissions.” When she is young, she must submit to her parents. After her marriage, she must submit to her husband. When she is widowed, she must submit to her son.

–Biography of Mengzi, mother of Confucian philosopher Mencius, fourth century B.C.E.)

Important, sure – but not particularly gripping. Here’s another essential excerpt:

And if you, my vassal, disobey or break this treaty… may the god Adad, the canal inspector of heaven and earth, put an end to all vegetation in your land. May his waters avoid your meadows and hit your land instead with a severe destructive downpour. May locusts devour your crops. May there be no sound of grinding stone or bread oven in your houses. May the wild animals eat your bread, and may your spirit have no one to take care of it and pour offerings of wine for it.

—Excerpt from a treaty between an Assyrian king and a subject city-state, circa 670 B.C.E.

Things are getting serious when you start wishing locusts on people. No one should wish for locusts. Wild animals eating your bread, sure – but locusts? That’s just harsh.

Not all extant texts are so serious. Some are real knee-slappers:

Apply yourself to being a scribe… you will be advanced by your superiors. You will be sent on a mission… love writing, shun dancing, then you become a worthy official… By day write with your fingers; recite by night. Befriend the scroll, the palette. It pleases more than wine… If you have any sense, be a scribe… and be spared from soldiering!

—Excerpt of a letter from a government official in Ancient Egypt to his son

HA! Those nutty river valley bureaucrats! (Dear god, get me to the Renaissance…)

But there was one moment of nerdy history-joy several weeks back when I came across a brief missive written by Kublai Khan to neighboring Japan in the year 1266. It begins like this:

Cherished by the Mandate of Heaven, the Great Mongol emperor sends this letter to the king of Japan. The sovereigns of small countries, sharing borders with each other, have for a long time been concerned to communicate with each other and become friendly.

Aw, that’s nice! He wants to be a good neighbor! Those cuddly Mongols. Can I borrow a cup of bloodshed?

The “Mandate of Heaven” to which he refers was a historiographic tool of Chinese scholars going waayyy back ago. It framed the rise and fall of various Chinese dynasties in terms of divine sanction. Royal lasciviousness brought about the collapse of the Zhou after long, corrupt centuries? That’s what happens when you lose the Mandate of Heaven. Liu Bang defeated Xiang Yu and re-united China under the Han? Well, he obviously had the Mandate of Heaven.

Kublai Khan, then, was rather bold in claiming the Mandate himself, given that he wasn’t exactly a proper emperor – not being Chinese and all. Still, he’d inaugurated his own dynasty (the Yuan) and the Mongols had been pretty much running the largest empire the world had ever known for over a half-century at that point, so, you know… they were doing something right.

Especially since my ancestor governed at heaven’s command, innumerable countries from afar disputed our power and slighted our virtue.

This made me laugh, probably because I’m reading way too much modern political overtone into it. “We’re God’s party here, trying to drain the Yellow Swamp, and all the foreign press can do is spread #FakeNews about us! SAD!”

Goryeo rendered thanks for my ceasefire and for restoring their land and people when I ascended the throne.

I prodded my poor students as to who “Goryeo” might be. Even with a map on the screen, it was a while before anyone guessed it might have something to do with Korea. And it does.

As in, it’s Korea.

They “rendered thanks for my ceasefire” and were super-appreciative that I let them keep working for me after I took over. They love me in Goryeo!

I’ll bet they did, Kubles. Subjugation and terror tend to bring that out in people.

Then again, it’s often tricky to gage tone with historical documents. While some things are universal across humanity, language and culture change dramatically over time – often in ways difficult to discern without a becoming a specialist of some sort.

Still, whatever else the Mongols were, they weren’t known for rhetorical nuance; I don’t think I’m overly projecting when I infer a very familiar tone in lines like this:

Our relation is feudatory like a father and son. We think you already know this.

“Feudatory” is a funny word. It probably works better in the original tongue. The root, of course, is “feudal” – as in “feudalism.” It conjures up images of western European lords and serfs, trying to avoid the Plague while men in tights play recorders and bald clergymen harrumph about, gardening and copying books by hand.

But feudalism existed in a variety of forms, anywhere society was structured around relationships between landholders and those doing the actual producing. It sounds too close to slavery for most modern sensibilities, but it provided social stability and a physical security for common laborers which arguably fit the time and circumstances.

Still, Kublai is probably overselling the “father-son” thing a bit. Like the serfs, Korea had little choice in the arrangement, although in return for their loyalty they received the Mongols’ protection, which was no small thing.

Any doubt as to tone or intent begins to vanish with that next bit: “We think you already know this.”

Terse, isn’t it? Somehow things are feeling much less neighborly than they did only moments ago.

Goryeo is my eastern tributary. Japan was allied with Goryeo and sometimes with China since the founding of your country; however, Japan has never dispatched ambassadors since my ascending the throne. We are afraid that the Kingdom is yet to know this.

You never write, you never call, and you completely ignored our friend request on Facebook. I know you got our message – I can see the little checkmark and the time you read it. Do you know how that makes us feel?

Hence we dispatched a mission with our letter particularly expressing our wishes. Enter into friendly relations with each other from now on. We think all countries belong to one family. How are we in the right, unless we comprehend this?

Again with the super-friendlies. You know that line about walking softly but carrying a big stick? Kublai had Teddy Roosevelt beat by about six centuries.

“This is… a really nice place you got here, Benny. Isn’t it a nice place, Nicky?”

“It’s a great place, boss.”

“A man could really do well for himself in a place like this, Benny. He could provide for his family, couldn’t he, Nicky?”

“Ain’t nothin’ more important than family, Boss.”

“That’s so true. People what you gotta love, and protect… it can be such a dangerous world. It’s a shame, really – the things that can happen.”

“It’s a tragedy, Boss. I weep when I think of it.”

“A man’s gotta know who his friends are, Benny. He gots ta’ know who he can count on to help him prevent… accidents. Misfortunes. Ain’t that right, Nicky?”

*CRASH*

“Ah, now… Nicky just broke your kusanagi! Nicky, what have I told you about other folks’ holy relics?”

“That I gotta be more careful, Boss.”

“That you gotta be more careful. That coulda been his daughter. Right, Benny?”

I mean, I can’t prove the Mongols talked and swaggered like bad movie mobsters in early 20th century Chicago, but you can’t prove they didn’t – and in today’s world, that makes my interpretation way truer than yours.

Finally, just to make sure the message isn’t received by some particularly dense diplomat and its intent even slightly misunderstood…

Nobody would wish to resort to arms.

That certainly would be a shame. The Mongols hated violence, you know.

But what a wonderful way to wrap up such a loaded dispatch. He doesn’t even have to cackle and rub his hands together maniacally – it’s all in the tone.

The letter didn’t work. Kublai Khan tried a few more times, then resorted to military force. Two full-scale invasions were repulsed, both times in part due to monsoons, or “divine winds” working in favor of the Japanese. Their word for this is “kamikaze,” which I’m told will come up again later.

Hey, I don’t read ahead. I like to be surprised.

It was a defining limit on Mongolian expansion, and a glorious moment in the early history of Japan. In both cases, the events of the 13th century shaped subsequent developments forever thereafter.

Which is, after all, a large part of why we study these things.

Most importantly, though, the exchange produced this letter, which we now read, analyze, and discuss in class. It’s distant enough to be history but approachable enough to be engaging. With a little effort, we can use it to anchor all sorts of changes and continuities and comparisons and connections. Thank you, Kubles – I LOVE this stuff!

But… I think you already know this.

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