A really good cheerleader never lets the facts get in the way. A great squad will stick with the plan--and the man--even when the score tells a very different story. Could you imagine what it would be like if, down 35-to-zip, the squad suddenly changed their tune?
"Rah! Rah! We'll Take Off Our Bras if you'll just do SOMETHING!"
True, such a cheer might rally the troops, but it certainly wouldn't help their focus.
Say what you will about the man, but Hitler was, for awhile there, quite the little cheerleader. Somehow, he was able to rouse an entire nation to actually believe that this mousy little brunette was on to something with the idea of a pure race, a BLONDE race, even.
You'd think the comb over and that creepy little mustache would have been a clue . . .
Ultimately--thankfully--common sense eventually prevails. Ultimately, those kooks on the edges--those goofy, loud folks whose monomaniacal focus eventually grows tiresome and downright silly--fade away, victims of their own inbreeding.
...and, as a Darwinian preacher might say, the flexible and adaptable rise up and inherit the earth.
In the past year or so, I have come to believe that true change is only possible if we can bring together disparate groups and find a common thread that holds us together.
Last spring, I had the opportunity to listen to Frank LaMonte, a lawyer from the Student Press Law Center, who spoke passionately about the need to reach across the table and make plans with people we'd otherwise never choose as dinner partners. LaMonte, who looks like a short(er) Tom Cruise, overcame this disturbing comparison to enthrall us all with his tales of insurmountable odds overcome by the formation of surprising partnerships.
I, for one, am heartened by the chance to rub up against odd bedfellows. Not only am I sure to come away with a good story or two, but, if I'm paying attention, I also have the chance to learn a thing or two.
I have some real concerns about the path public education is on. Considering LaMonte's advice about reaching across the table, I'm convinced we can find creative, lasting solutions to these concerns when we stop focusing on the single-issue passions that separate us and start looking for the things we hold in common.
Do I want to invite Rush Limbaugh to my dinner table? Heck no! First of all, I'm afraid he'd find my migraine medicine in the kitchen cabinet. Am I willing, though, to sit across a conference table and begin tapping his energy, his ideas, his brain for solutions that we all can live with?
I think so. Which is just further proof that I would have made a lousy cheerleader.
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