total time: 7.28 minutes
total words: 89
[Aaron Olapade]: It's humbling to be here today with all of you on this National Day of Action to lift up the legacy of Congressman John Lewis, a man of deep faith who made his life a living sermon on courage, on conscience, and on commitment to justice. Good Trouble Lives On is not just a slogan, it is a call to everyone to pick up the torch that John Lewis carried through Selma, through the halls of Congress, and through the hearts of generations. And while many think of that torch as one that burned in the streets, or the courts, or through our voting booths, I want to talk to you today about another battlefield where good trouble must be made, and that is in our schools. I'm hesitant to use the language of a battle, given our commitment to nonviolent protests, but make no mistake, The attacks on education we are seeing across the country are not accidental. They are deliberate. They are strategic. They are meant to keep our young people from knowing the truth, from knowing their power, and from knowing each other. Let me be clear. Education is not neutral. It either affirms our humanity or denies it. It either tells the truth or it erases it. It either opens doors or locks them shut. Right now, in state houses and school boards across the country, we are witnessing attempts to turn classrooms into those battlegrounds, banning books, silencing teachers, and criminalizing honest conversations about race, gender, sexuality, and history. In some places, students are being told they cannot speak their own identities aloud. Teachers are being told they cannot name systems of oppression, And entire communities and cultures are being told their stories don't belong on the page or in the lesson plan. This is not just censorship. This is cultural control. This is not just about curriculum. This is about power. And it's our job, our moral obligation, to get into good trouble to resist it. As a member of the Medford School Committee, I take this responsibility very seriously. I know that local school boards are often the first line of defense and the first source of the resistance. When we talk about protecting democracy, we cannot overlook our responsibility to protect educational freedom. And that means defending truth-telling in our classrooms. It means making sure students learn not just the dates of the Civil Rights Movement, but the genesis and the spirit of the civil rights movement. It means making sure that we all understand why people marched and why we're marching still. It means that black history is not confined to February. It means that indigenous voices are not confined to footnotes. It means that queer kids are not asked to disappear. It means that immigrant children are not asked to forget where they came from. We don't need sanitized history. We need honest history. Because only when we confront the truth can we transform it. And friends, this is not just an urban or southern problem. These battles are happening right here in Massachusetts, in the greater Boston area, in my home city of Medford. So the simple question we must ask ourselves is this. What side of history are we writing and who gets to hold the pen? For me, as a young black elected official, I know the stakes. I know what it means to sit in a classroom and not see yourself reflected. I know what it feels like when your identity is treated as an afterthought or as a threat. And I know what it means to finally find your voice and to have someone try to take it away. That's why I ran for school committee. That's why I fight for equitable funding, for an inclusive curriculum, for culturally responsible and responsive teaching practices. And that's why I'm working to ensure our schools are brave spaces where all young people feel safe, seen, and supported. Because, my friends, the public school classroom is where justice begins. The classroom is where young people first learn the language of their rights. The classroom is where they first learn to challenge assumptions. The classroom is where they first learn that silence is not the same as peace. And that change is something that they can create. And if that makes some people uncomfortable, good. John Lewis didn't make people comfortable. He made them think. He inspired them to act. He troubled them to feel the urgency of now. So let us feel that urgency today, five years after his passing, and carry forward his legacy with boldness, with clarity, and with courage. Let us refuse to allow injustice to be taught as neutrality. Let us refuse to be quiet while others try to erase our stories. Let us refuse to seed the minds of the next generation to fear and falsehoods. Let us instead build schools where freedom is not just a unit in the textbook, but a living, breathing reality in the lives of every single student. We're out, we're out, we're out. If John Lewis taught us anything, it's that democracy is not a given, it is an act. And I'd add, so is education. It is an act of hope, an act of resistance, an act of imagination. So today, as we march, as we speak, as we organize, let's commit to bringing good trouble into every space, every space where injustice hides, especially into the classroom, that shape our children's futures. We honor John Lewis not just by remembering what he fought for, but by continuing to fight. So let's get into good trouble for truth, for justice, for education, and for every student still waiting for the world to reflect their worth. Thank you. Let's get into some good trouble together.
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total time: 7.28 minutes total words: 89 |
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