What Not To Wear: Joan of Arc Edition

April 9, 2019June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

Most of us have at least a working familiarity with the story of Joan of Arc. A simple (but not impoverished) French peasant girl, she began hearing voices from God telling her she was going to save France from the English and their Burgundian allies. Through some combination of cleverness, sincerity, and miraculous signs, she convinced Charles VII to let her lead French soldiers in battle and eventually secured his coronation.

Having outlived her political usefulness, Joan was then pushed aside. She was captured by the English, put on trial for heresy, and burned at the stake when she was only nineteen years old. In her final moments, she begged for a cross to be held before her, high enough to see through the flames. She called out to Jesus while she burned.

It’s a gripping tale, and surprisingly well-documented for its times. References to Joan pop up everywhere in the historical record, as do endless legends, rumors, and interpretations of her life and death. By far the most detailed accounts were the trial records so carefully preserved, first by those who wished to condemn her, then several decades later by those who wished her redeemed. For five months, Joan was questioned, criticized, badgered, and abused by learned men with little interest in legal or spiritual truth. Their goal was to destroy her reputation, to invalidate her apparent miracles and the king she claimed to have installed by the will of God. If she could be shown to be a heretic – a witch – then the English could reclaim the political and spiritual high ground and eventually control France itself.

The courtroom in which Joan was tried and convicted was not a traditional English court of law. Nor was it properly sanctioned by the Catholic Church then recognized as the authority over such issues. It was instead something of a rogue proceeding, heavy with the trappings of a religious investigation but failing to adhere to the rules of either Church or State. Joan, a peasant girl with no formal education, was denied her own counsel. She was kept in what was essentially a dungeon rather than a church prison as required in such cases. At one point, Joan apparently signed a confession of sorts, under fear of the most painful of deaths. It’s unlikely she knew precisely what it said, and she recanted soon after, at which point her fate was sealed beyond redemption. She was executed by fire.

And yet, reading through the trial records, it becomes clear that Bishop Cauchon – the primary interrogator and the man most accountable to the English for securing Joan’s condemnation – is repeatedly frustrated in his efforts to pin heresy or witchcraft on Joan in any meaningful way, even in these severely tilted circumstances. It’s equally clear that it was essential to the facade that he do so, lest the entire process be revealed as the travesty it was.

Even in a charade of a trial, participants generally strive to persuade themselves before seeking to persuade others. Humans are corrupt and selfish, to be sure – but most of us still want to be able to sleep at night. We like to win, but we don’t like to feel like horrible people while doing it. We demand a narrative – however twisted or internal – which justifies our treatment of others. We want to feel right.

Joan was accused of setting herself up as an idol of sorts – a charge the court found themselves unable to prove, even to themselves. She was criticized for how others responded to her, as if she were a miracle-worker or healer – criticisms she shrugged off, for she had little control over how others responded.

Time and again her accusers obsessed over a “fairy tree” in her native Domremy and the possibility that Joan at some point in her childhood danced or sang around it. They focused on a ring her mother gave her with a traditional blessing inscribed on the inside, and any possible indication it operated as a relic or charm. They tried to tie her to known mystics – Brother Richard, Catherine de la Rochelle, and others – although Joan was single-minded to the point of obsession and the last to validate what others wanted or claimed. They particularly hoped to uncover the details of whatever sign she’d given Charles VII upon first meeting him – a secret which remains unknown to us even today, but which persuaded an insecure and uninspired dauphin to suddenly step up and take great risks to secure his crown.

Joan was asked theological questions she had no reason to understand, yet generally managed to circumvent in her responses. She was challenged about the multiple pope problem then facing the Church and any advice she might have given to others regarding its proper resolution – a resolution no one questioning her had offered themselves. Every rumor, every recorded word or phrase, every action of Joan which could be cut’n’pasted into something smacking of corruption were strung together in faux outrage, despite how obvious it was to all involved that whatever Joan may have been, she was hardly vain or ambitious, let alone the willing servant of darkness or corruption.

Right or wrong, she was a humble girl convinced she was obeying the will of God and bewildered why men of the cloth found the idea so horrifying. Joan was even willing to submit to church authority, so long as it not blatantly contradict the revealed will of God as she understood it. In many ways, she anticipated the Protestant Reformation Martin Luther would spark some seventy-five years later.

Thus, in the end, there were really only two points on which Cauchon and his cohorts found traction, even by their own standards.

The first were her voices and accompanying visions of St. Catherine, St. Margaret, and St. Michael. Joan was prodded endlessly about these experiences, perhaps in the hope she would ascribe some characteristic or detail to them which seemed to contradict scripture or church teaching. Revelation via angelic visitation may have been unusual, but their own scriptures provided multiple precedents in both Old and New Testaments, making even this loftiest of Joan’s claims difficult to condemn too broadly without seeming petty and vain even for the late medieval church. (“Why would God appear to someone humble and small when he could speak through the rich and powerful and by their own standards blatantly corrupt? Oh, wait…”)

The other issue – and the one for which she was finally and truly condemned – involved her clothes. More than any other single issue, in strict legal terms, Joan was executed for violating society’s dress code.

It had started with her initial journey to see Charles VII. Having somehow persuaded a local official by the name of Robert Baudricourt to legitimize her mission – enough that the King would receive her, at least – Joan sets off with several male cohorts assigned to her protection and logistical guidance. Whether it was primarily to disguise herself from the English and their sympathizers along the way, or to de-sexualize her in the eyes of the many strange men with whom she’d be sharing close quarters, Joan cut her hair short and adapted some form of male military attire.

It was a practical decision. Suspicious eyes weren’t drawn to a small party of male soldiers sharing a campsite, whereas the addition of a young woman would certainly bring attention. Should her party be attacked, armor was of course far better protection than whatever feminine garb would have been considered more appropriate.

Perhaps most significantly, the primary garments of any soldier’s armor were secured to one another by ropes and ties and fasteners. No one wanted some critical piece of protection to fly off in the heat of battle, or slide loose during long rides on horseback, so getting in and out of military accoutrements was a time-intensive task by design. As a 17-year old virgin surrounded by unfamiliar soldier-types far from home, it made absolute sense to protect herself sexually as much as militarily.

It’s important to note that this was a choice entirely allowed by church doctrine. Cross-dressing could be sinful, or even heretical, but it very much depended on circumstances. And Joan, by any reasonable measure, had circumstances.

Trial transcripts record repeated questioning of Joan concerning her attire. She expressed complete willingness to change into a dress once moved to a church prison, where she’d be guarded by women, as church law required. Her request was, each time, denied. Joan was asked to recite the Lord’s Prayer (something a witch would be unable to do). Again she was compliant, if only she were first given the opportunity for a proper confession. Impossible, unless she changed her outfit! And the cycle began anew.

In the end, Bishop Cauchon and company left her with little real choice. They declared victory and the fire was lit.

Joan of Arc has meant a wide variety of things to many different people over the centuries, but it’s this detail that most resonates with me. She prioritized decency and practicality over rules or society’s squeamishness. Joan knew the mores, but she had a larger mission; the tender scruples of others simply weren’t a priority. Thus, in a century of warfare, political strife, economic claims, and divine rights of kings, fought with swords, rituals, and betrayals amidst questions of faith, education, social status, and gender roles, a young girl who heard voices from God and saved a nation with her stubborn faith was executed… for not taking off her pants.

We are welcome to remember Joan for working miracles and overthrowing kingdoms, but these neither saved nor condemned her. Violating the comfort zones of few folks with a little power and an exaggerated sense of self-righteousness, however…

Charles VII remained on the throne and eventually the English were completely expelled from France. Joan was still dead at that point, but would no doubt have been quite pleased.

RELATED POST: Joan of Awkard, Part One: Missing Voices

Joan of Awkward, Part Two – Hide It Under A Footnote? No! I’m Gonna Let It Shine…

October 30, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

The story of Joan of Arc forces historians to deal with overtly spiritual claims and potentially miraculous outcomes in ways historians do not generally wish to do. We’ll cover the role of religion in the most general ways, if absolutely necessary, but we DON’T LIKE TO TALK ABOUT IT IF WE DON’T HAVE TO.

We don’t actually like to talk about it even when we DO have to.

But Joan, by all historical accounts, followed up the predictions of her ‘voices’ with successful action. She – a peasant girl – wrangled an audience with the Dauphin Charles VII. She shared with him secret words of God which seem to have immediately turned him from manipulative skeptic to temporary believer and gave him the strength to actually lead his nation in a renewed war for independence.

In a time of drastically divided sexual roles, she ended up leading battlefield troops to greater successes than they’d seen in a generation. And, when the same king she’d brought to power began to tire of her – perhaps fearing her popularity, or perhaps simply believing she’d exhausted her usefulness – betrayed her and allowed her to be captured and tried by the English, she held to her faith, and to her convictions regarding God’s calling for him and for France.

She refused to renounce her unusually clear and personal communication with God, and was violently executed for a combination of heresy and cross-dressing – a condemnation of her innermost spiritual status mixed with outrage over her hair length and attire, her literal facade.

Plus she’d helped France kick England’s oppressive %** around a bit. That charge was implied rather than officially recorded in court or church records.

She was burned at the stake (in some accounts calling out to Jesus), eyes locked on the Crucifix she’d requested be held up before her eyes. Extant accounts suggest witnesses cried out for forgiveness, many repenting of their role in her martyrdom. Of course, people write lots of things after the fact – so who knows?

I will take a cynical leap and dismiss accounts that her heart was left undamaged in the ashes. We simply lack sufficient documentation for something so… unusual.

Immutable internal organs or not, how can you tell Joan’s story without pondering her faith? Her voices? She was either crazy with a healthy side of lucky, a very effective liar, or God spoke to her and sent her on a miracle-laden mission to save France from the English. The idea God could like France is problematic enough – but successful wars based on divine visions? Is that something we wish to encourage?

Thus, the political intrigues and battlefield strategies are explored endlessly, while Joan’s voices are rushed past, as if we’d rather not draw too much attention to THE MOST INTERESTING THING IN THE ENTIRE ACCOUNT.

To be fair, it’s tricky territory even for those not teaching in public schools to presume to understand the spiritual realities of another – particularly someone six centuries gone. But we do our past a disservice when we circle so widely around the subject instead.

If we’re going to acknowledge the hypocrisy and cruelty done in the name of God by early Spanish explorers confronting local Amerindians, let’s recognize the good intentions and legitimate faith of many others in similar situations. If we’re going to explain the cultural destruction done by Anglo-American missionaries to the tribes in their purview, let’s be a bit more vocal about the role of faith driving Samuel Worcester and his nameless ilk who served among the Natives with little reward in this life.

Yes, people taking part in the Second Great Awakening did some weird things – the barking and the roaring and the writhing about. Perhaps we could better tie these experiences to the increased efforts to help the poor and reform society in practical ways which tended to follow the path of such festivities. I’ll take some speaking in tongues of angels if it leads to better social services – especially the non-governmental type.

And this same revival movement ‘democratized’ Protestantism in a powerful way, giving the average American far more agency in their salvation than the Calvinism of the previous generation could have even considered without doing some frothing and noise-making of their own – albeit of a less ecstatic nature. In other words, it made Christianity itself more reflective of American ideals regarding personal improvement and potential, and the power of personal choice.

We don’t have to mandate any particular interpretation regarding the spiritual accuracy of this to note that it’s PRETTY DAMN INTERESTING HOW THAT COULD HAPPEN and that the shift has continued through this very day.

As we approach modern times, it makes for a rather lopsided view of Presidential paradigms when we discuss foreign policy through every lens but the one most-cited from the Big Podium. “For we must consider that we shall be as a City Upon a Hill…” said John Winthrop in 1630 – a sentiment echoed, reworked, expanded, and cited over and over and over and over by men deciding whether or not we put our best in harm’s way in hopes of spreading that light a little further, or at least holding back the darkness a little longer.

In other words, sometimes we do stuff for oil. Sometimes we do stuff for business. Sometimes we do stuff out of an exaggerated sense of noblesse oblige. But in the mix is the conviction by many that our calling is divine – that there are times standing back is not an option, lest we lose the favor of God Himself.

That’s a thing, and if we are to debate it intelligently, we must know it exists.

We don’t have to solve or resolve the ethereals in order to acknowledge them. We cover tons of other complicated stuff without feeling compelled to either exalt or belittle the veracity of those involved. I’ve heard a dozen different explanations of how and why salmon swim upstream in their endeavor to spawn in their birth waters or whatever, but none carry an awkward fear of discussing the eternal truth vs. the practical value of this struggle. There’s no implied Rod’n’Reel of Damocles hanging over the topic, waiting for a lawsuit or angry phone call. It’s just fish doing part of what fish do.

Surely it’s OK to allow humans to be at least as complex as Friday’s dinner?

If we’re in the business of educating, however imperfectly, let’s try to educate them – about whatever parts seem relevant at the time, and without carrying around the distorted notion that somehow dancing around the unknowns makes history more legit or more clear.

If anything, recognizing the complexity and depth of mankind’s many motivations and the varied realms in which we run has at least some small chance of bringing back a sense of relevance – maybe even stimulating some interest – which our past seems to have lost for far too many kids.

Joan of Awkward, Part One – Missing Voices

October 29, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 2 Comments

Several years ago, I went through a bit of a Joan of Arc fetish. I watched the Leelee Sobieski mini-series again, several documentaries, and read a half-dozen historical explorations of our “Maid of Lorraine.” Several novels stood out – Mark Twain’s semi-historical fiction of her, of course, and An Army of Angels by Pamela Marcantel, an amazing imagining of her short life with just the right balance of grounded history and literary license.

In short, I got a little Joan crazy for a time.

Unfortunately for my academic credibility and witty dinner banter, I’m not a big ‘retain the details’ guy unless I’m either consciously studying it or teaching it to others. I read history for pleasure, along with whatever else grabs my attention at the time, but I don’t have the kind of memory that retains most of it in sharp focus easily or often.

That’s not actually the stumbling block you might think teaching high school in the 21st century. Nothing locks the minutiae of your subject into permanent recall like explaining it repeatedly throughout the years, and almost anything that doesn’t stick is easily researched when necessary. We’re still trying to get them to bring a pencil and check the class website periodically; there’s little danger they’ll without warning probe such historical depths that I end up academically cowed.

I can’t say that it does much for relationships, though, this hazy grasp of specifics – birthdays, middle names, her not liking raisins, forgetting her mom died last year… people get touchy about so many little details. Hey, we all have different gifts.

But I digress.

The basic story of Joan goes something like this:

Joan was born in early 15th century France, near the end of the Hundred Years’ War. As she became a young woman, the nation was enduring another dispute over who would inherit the French throne. The outcome would determine not only who’d get the nice chair and fancy castle, but who would control France for the foreseeable future – the French via the Dauphin, Charles VII, or the English through a sizeable faction of ‘Burgundians’ (Frenchmen who cooperated with the English) and their up-and-coming monarch, Henry VI.

Charles’s daddy, Charles VI (nice system, right?) was insane – even for royalty – and may not have been his daddy at all. The dear Queen was thought to be having an affair with the Duke of Orleans, aka the King’s brother, and he may have been Charles VII’s biological father. That would explain in part why the Queen was so cooperative with England when it came time to designate an official heir to the throne; she signed off on Henry VI holding that honor.

Henry was a tiny little English king-to-be, you see. He was legit, with king-blood flowing through his wee little veins. This was a big deal to royal types back in the day – hence all the inbreeding and weird genetic issues which resulted. Perhaps the Queen wanted peace with England for more traditional reasons as well, but the common people of France were not impressed, and assigned her unflattering nicknames when speaking privately amongst themselves.

See how fun it is to study history? Your family’s not as messed up as you think. “Dysfunctional” is merely a fancy term for “typical royalty, but without money or power.”

Joan dealt with none of this as a child, of course. She was a peasant, which sounds to modern ears like it must include both servitude and poverty. Neither seems to have been the case, however. Daddy Jacques d’Arc and crew were certainly near the bottom of the social hierarchy, and times were tough all over, but they don’t appear to have been in need by the standards of the day.

Somewhere around age 13, Joan begin having visions and hearing voices from Saint Michael, Saint Margaret, and Saint Catherine – telling her from God that she must be a good girl and stay faithful, and that she had a destiny and purpose far beyond her upbringing.

Divine communication. It’s a large part of what makes her so fascinating.

It’s also the kind of thing which makes historians crazy, you understand. It’s just so awkward to deal with the supernatural in an academic context, especially given the typical disconnect between those book-learnin’ types and people of faith. We’d rather not talk about it at all.

It’s downplayed even with major figures like the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. Notice how many history books drop the ‘Reverend’ whenever possible. Granted, after the first mention of someone in a history text, they’re usually referred to only by their last name, no matter WHO they are – but the designation is usually missing in that first mention as well. And in sidebars. Photo captions. Even that separate section in the back with the long excerpt of “I Have A Dream.”

Usually if someone’s a ‘Dr.’, a ‘Prof.’, or even a ‘Sir’ we work it in there at least once. But ‘Rev.’ we like to slip past.

When his primary calling IS included, it’s used as framing for the story we actually wish to tell – a colorful bit of context to get past as quickly as possible. Its significance is more often than not presumed to be as preparation or practice for his “real” historical function, helping King build organizational skills and hone his powerful oratory – and what a lucky break THAT turned out to be because that kinda thing ended up SO useful later in service of the Civil Rights movement!

Faith becomes a happy fluke of background rather than a key component – as if King just happened to sit next to someone randomly on the bus who ended up playing some key role we never saw coming, or left his coat too close to the oven and accidentally invented penicillin. As if taking up the call of ministry – of spreading the Word of God to the downtrodden and fighting for justice – made a nice placeholder before changing careers and fighting for civil rights.

As if they weren’t both manifestations of the same inner fire.

It’s easier the further back we go. Dismissing the Puritans or the revival preachers of the Second Great Awakening happens almost naturally; they seem so radical by today’s mores. Any pantheistic cultures are tacitly patronized without question, as are those more driven by nature, visions, or quests than westerners find comfortable.

In more recent years it’s been quite in vogue to mock groups like the Latter Day Saints in ways which would be borderline hate crimes with any other demographic. (Can you imagine large, loud groups at Applebee’s cackling over song fragments from the hit Broadway musical, ‘The Book of Mohammed’ or ‘Sing-Along-With-Brother-Malcolm’?)

I get that issues of faith are problematic- especially if we’re teaching them in public school. But Joan, by all historical accounts, followed up the predictions of her ‘voices’ with successful action. That makes dealing with her especially tricky.

Just ask the English.

By Any Means Necessary

October 28, 2014June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world…
The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity…
(“The Second Coming”, W.B. Yeats)

My historical heroes are all pretty standard – Joan of Arc, Malcolm X, Abraham Lincoln. All three were murdered as a result of their convictions, but they were more than simply creatures of ‘passionate intensity’. They were strange animals in their day who rejected easy answers for the possibility of better ones. None were content to merely overcome those in their way – they sought something richer… they pursued mutual enlightenment. Maybe mutual respect.

Even if they killed you while doing it.

Joan demonstrated repeated personal mercies and grace even for her enemies, all while leading the French army to slaughter those filthy English. Post-Mecca Malcolm sought collaboration – or at least detente – from those he with whom he disagreed – even some he found culpable in existing wrongs. Lincoln was a man of great conviction as well, but regarding people and their viewpoints, values, and druthers, he was quite broad-minded for his time. Consider this bit from his Second Inaugural, given a few months before his death:

Neither party expected for the war the magnitude or the duration which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease with or even before the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God’s assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men’s faces, but let us judge not, that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered. That of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes…
With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.

Not as rousing as “We’ve almost got ‘em, now let’s CRUSH the Motherf*ckers!” but it served his purposes.

See, Lincoln was always looking past the current strife to the solution, the next step, the reconciliation or improvement. He did not wish to confuse the struggle with the goal. It was how he practiced law, how he navigated interpersonal conflict, and certainly how he approached the Civil War.

Of course he wanted to win – believing profoundly that his cause was just – but he kept his larger purpose in view. He wanted the Union preserved, the nation whole. When the opportunity came to free slaves as part of that, all the better – the Maker thus working out the parts we cannot while demanding of us all that we can.

I want my students to emulate this. I want them to strive to understand why the hell people believe and do the weird, stupid stuff they believe and do. Most of it, of course, isn’t actually weird and stupid to the people doing it, and even when it is, it’s still worth a little analysis before we attack. It’s too easy to mock, vilify, or dismiss those who stray too far from our socio-political comfort zones. It’s too easy to reduce important complexities to ‘us’ and ‘them’.

Complicating my idealistic little group hug is the fact that in any field of dispute – science, ethics, education reform, etc. – there are unjust players. Someone’s always trying to rig the game, beat the system, manipulate the field for personal payoff. It’s naïve to pretend all voices are genuine. Sometimes the man behind the curtain is a pretty good wizard, but a very bad man.

Further complicating my utopian dreamland is the reality that not all ideas or understandings are equally true or even equally valid. They’re definitely not all equally useful. Just because I understand the skepticism about climate change by my friends further right doesn’t mean they’re correct. It doesn’t even mean the truth is “somewhere in the middle.” They may be dangerously, delusionally wrong – but it’s still better if I ‘get’ where they’re coming from. Show a little respect.

I humbly suggest that energy spent trying to understand the potential validity of viewpoints, belief systems, or courses of action we find distasteful, rather than spent ranting against them, has at least three advantages:

(1) They might have a point. If they’re not entirely right, they may not be entirely wrong, either. Likely they see something you’ve missed, or see it differently in a useful way. People who surround themselves only with supporters end up weird at best and corrupt at worst (think Justin Bieber or Kim Jong-il).

I’m a big fan of asserting antagonistic things to smart people and taking notes as they eviscerate me. I don’t keep many friends this way, but I learn a great deal.

(2) The better to persuade you with, my dear. If the goal is to implement policy you find most correct, or promote beliefs you consider important, you’re unlikely to win over opponents through your clever use of Willy Wonka memes to mock their most fundamental values. The sort of ‘red meat’ we throw one another when in likeminded groups can be emotionally satisfying, but it’s not particularly useful in building consensus.

(3) The Universe punishes vanity. Whether you put your faith in the Bible, history, science, or James Cameron movies, the fall which pride cometh before is a cantankerous b*tch, and neither you nor I are excluded from her twisted mockery.

Many things stirring passions today are more complicated than they seem. The ‘War on Terror’ is an easy example – the President all but admitted going in to this most recent bombing campaign against ISIS or ISIL (or whatever they are this week) that we can’t win this way, we can’t win other ways, and we sure as hell can’t not try at least some of the ways. All roads lead to WTF – we’re just trying to prognosticate the least-worst details.

Anything involving social mores and legal precepts is subjected to the worst sort of grandstanding on all sides – “I don’t believe government should legislate morality!” Yes you do. You just have different things that make you go ‘ick’ than whoever you’re mad at this time. “I want to see America return to the values on which it was founded!” No you don’t. We had some great ideals but made horrible compromises with the norms of the day. You’d be miserable, and quite possibly burned at the stake.

“Well I just don’t see how anyone could think -“

Exactly. Therein lies the problem. Because you really should.

School reform is almost as complex as these other areas, although with less stuff blowing up and fewer citations of Old Testament law involved (except of course by Senator Brecheen, who wants Common Core supporters hunted down and killed with swords).

Higher standards, whatever those are, might be delusional or harmful or wrong, but it’s hard to make the case that state-by-state standards are always much better. Mass testing is just evil, but complete lack of accountability doesn’t seem to have consistently led to much greatness in the past. There are some charters doing some interesting things, and I’ve even met ACTUAL TFA-ers leaving their all in the classroom every day trying to reach kids no one else seems able to reach.

I’m not suggesting all parties are just, or even sincere – merely that our ongoing outrage suggests a simplicity I don’t think is there.

Unless it’s MY outrage – my outrage is pretty damn ON most of the time.

I respectfully suggest we might see a bit more clearly and accomplish a bit more if we dial back our conviction enough to allow some uncertainty or complexity into the conversation. Maybe not everyone is either good or evil, not all ideas either stupid or obvious. Maybe we can maintain passion for our goals – which probably have to do with our students and the future and buckets full of flaming starfish – without taunting the Universe to go all karma on us before we can reach them.