When Dr. Cole, my middle school principal, stopped me in the hallway earlier this spring, he told me that I wasn’t in trouble. I should have been more concerned.

What he meant was that I wasn’t in trouble as long as I did what he wanted. What he wanted was that I not wear my sweatshirt to school anymore. The shirt causing this commotion is a simple black sweatshirt, with a four line poem in pastel, bubbly font:

Save the bees.

Plant more trees.

Clean the seas.

Punch Nazis.

Dr. Cole told me not to wear the shirt to school again because he ‘had received some student complaints’ from students who ‘felt threatened’. I was floored. I wanted to ask how anyone (other than a Nazi or someone with a bee related anaphylactic allergy) could feel threatened by the shirt. I had a feeling it didn’t have to do with the bees.

But I did not say that.

I told him that I understood.

Not that I agreed.

Because I simply can’t agree with censorship, especially given my family’s history and how my shirt relates to it. When my great-grandmother Irene was my age, she was imprisoned in a German concentration camp along with her mom and her younger brother. From across an ocean and multiple generations, I’ve heard her story from my parents and seen a video of her talking about her experience in her own words.

Day in and day out, she would have to build gas chambers that would eventually kill other Jewish people so she wouldn’t be killed herself. She talked of lack of food and terrible conditions. Of watching person after person who she knew die.

Her early life was dark and terrifying, and yet she grew up to be so joyful, an act that took so much strength. She was one of the happiest people either of my parents knew. She didn’t come out of camp angry, rather she lived, moving to the United States, finding a job, falling in love, and starting a new life. She didn’t let all the terrible things she had seen and experienced stop her from living. 

It must have taken so much bravery to believe that the world would not let the past repeat itself.

When she was growing up, she knew when she needed to keep her mouth shut for survival. Over 6.5 million Jewish people were killed in the Holocaust. Against that horrific backdrop, it is a miracle that I exist. I know when I need to open my mouth and speak up. I do this through shirts, typically. My closet is full of snarky shirts, since it’s how I express myself and share my thoughts with the world. From reading books to fighting patriarchy, my closet covers it all.

My shirt is perfect for the mornings when I wake up feeling feisty (since I’m an eighth grader, I wake up feisty a lot). I had been wearing the shirt for over a year. No one had ever complained about it, although I’ve got plenty of curious looks. I understand those. Not everyone would be comfortable wearing a shirt like mine. It’s a little bold. But despite that, even some teachers have told me that they love my shirt, friends have asked where I got it, and kids have come up to me in the hall to tell me that it means a lot to them.

Which is why I am enacting my own forms of resistance against what I believe to be my principal’s overreach. I’ve been wearing other pointed shirts to school, and have had meetings with Dr. Cole (with no progress made), and am doing what I can to make my voice heard. My great-grandma endured so much when she was my age. I don’t know if I’ll ever be as strong as her, but at the very least I can do this.

Because our world today is scary. Because hate speech is on the rise in my school and we are facing a government that is eerily similar to what happened to Irene. And if I give in, if I stop wearing my shirt quietly, I am letting history play out again. I would be letting down everyone at school who told me that my shirt meant something to them. I am doing everyone a disservice if I stay quiet. 

Some may say that Lexington is as comfortable as it can get, and if I’m making people uncomfortable, I should just comply. But my shirt getting banned did not occur in a vacuum. This is a school where students drew neo-nazi symbols on the bathroom walls in December and the only schoolwide response was a statement on the announcements telling us to be kind. This is a school where I frequently hear white supremacist, anti-immigrant, racist comments, and there is little I can do because it has become all too common. The school is rapidly tipping in a direction that few in my town would feel comfortable with, and by removing my shirt, the scales are tipping further and further from kindness.

Among all that, I was making a safe space in the hallway with my shirt where I could silently fight back against the antisemitism in my school. By stopping wearing my shirt and giving in to my principal’s demands, it would appear that I was agreeing with an administration who is uncomfortable with that message against anti-semetism. And that will never happen.

Because I’m angry. I’m mad that people can’t see that my shirt isn’t a threat. The people it offends are the threat.

So you have to do something. 

You have to be willing to remember. To have the hard conversations, to make sure that we don’t forget. To address the hate in your community.

And if I tell my story, if I speak up, I can remember. And I can use my words to help others remember. My shirt was never about actually punching Nazis. That’s only a fourth of the message. Part of a rhetorical* device for dramatic effect. My shirt is about making the world a better place. It’s about the future. It’s about planting seeds for tomorrow.

Because I want a tomorrow with bees, a tomorrow with trees, and clean oceans. And a peaceful tomorrow without anti-semitism or hate for people based on where they come from. And I think that’s why I’m so upset that I can’t wear my shirt. Because my shirt is me hoping for a better tomorrow and working for a better today.

Is that so much to ask?

Teagan Murtagh 

*A paraprosdokian

Join the Conversation

14 Comments

  1. What a brave and wonderful letter from a truly extraordinary kid! We are very proud to know you Teagan and support your message, full self, and t-shirts! Love the Flynn / Khalil Family

    1. Sending solidarity and support for your message, Teagan. Thank you for articulating it so clearly. The struggle to stop hate and bias in our schools is complicated, but I’m sure limiting expressions of paraprosdokian wit and hope aren’t how we get there.

      As parent to a fiesty pre-teen, I’ll lend my voice to advocating for a clear and measured statement in student handbook to ensure that fiesty teens’ voices are heard.

  2. Teagan – the world needs more people like you. You taught me a new word today. (paraprosdokian). Now I have to go look up the etymology of this word.

    I came with the intent of stating support, but commenting on how violence is never the solution. Your explanation of the paraprosdokian use of “punch” makes me pause.

    I see your point, only Nazis should be offended by threating to punch Nazis – right? On the other hand, there are plenty of people who start out with a belief and over time realize that belief is wrong and change their ways. If on first meeting we punched them, that probably wouldn’t start things off on the right foot, and in fact it would reinforce their belief system.

    I ultimately have to side with the school on this one. Too many people wouldn’t take the time to understand the paraprosdokian (I don’t even know how to use this word correctly) use of “punch”. Nor, would you have the time to explain it to everyone. You would probably lose their interest if you *’d the term “punch” and put a description of paraprosdokian on the back of your shirt….. Nor could Dr. Cole take the time to explain to other students why a similar shirt that ended with “punch teachers” or “punch puppies” was not OK.

    I hope you can understand my take on this. I feel uncomfortable writing and not fully supporting you, but as my friends from DROIT taught me; becoming comfortable discussing uncomfortable topics is how we grow and what this world needs a lot more of right now.

    thank you Teagan.
    Mark

    1. Communication is tricky because we all carry our own perspectives, experiences, and contexts. I think that’s party of what’s going on and making this debate more complex.

      The phrase “punch Nazis” is particularly witty because it calls upon an entire leitmotif present across movies, comics, video games, and other narrative fiction. The reference is not about literal violence, it’s about resistance to oppression. Yes, people may lack some Teagan’s context here, but we’re teaching our students to be critical thinkers and that requires cultural literacy.

      Teagan clearly does not wish to incite political violence. The shirt didn’t say “punch a Neo-Nazi”, which absolutely crosses a line. Political violence is antithetical to social justice, and from Teagan’s statement, it’s clear that this is understood. And I am sure kids can understand why “punch a teacher” is different.

      It’s within the purview (and mandate!) of a school to facilitate and discuss these things, and draw a line between real calls for violence and (provocative) statements of solidarity. These are difficult conversations, but necessary one. Kids that felt uncomfortable likely had a reason (they would not need to be literal Nazis), but I fully expect that open discourse could alleviate this.

      This is a learning opportunity. I understand Dr. Cole’s impulsive desire to just have the shirt go away – there is a LOT going on in LPS. But these hard conversations are the way we talk about hate and build a community that comes together and stands up for each other. The district is working hard to build anti-hate curriculum, and this lands right in the middle of how we approach these challenges.

      Another respondent posted that they hoped that both Teagan and Dr. Cole would collaborate for a good outcome. I know Dr. Cole well; I’m sure that his heart is in a good place, even if this action was a mistake from my perspective. I have full confidence that through discussions like the one we’re having here, we’ll be able to push back on hate and make a place that is welcoming for everyone.

      Thanks to all for the good discourse and shared perspectives.

  3. I am yet another person who learned the word paraprosdokian from your letter. My heart goes out to you. I am quite a bit older than you, and remember seeing people with numbers tattooed on their arms, and talking about close relatives lost at the hands of the Nazis. There are fewer and fewer of them alive today, and perhaps your generation doesn’t grasp the atrocities that occurred. And it seems that more Americans these days feel comfortable expressing racist, xenophobic, fill in the blank views. It is a frightening trend. Theoretically there are no Nazis now, and so your shirt wasn’t talking about violence against another person, it was about opposing the views that Nazis held. I spoke with someone else about your letter, and they agreed with the principal, saying that you can’t condone any form of violence. It might be interesting if you were to cross out the last line of the poem, and write something longer, like “denounce the view espoused by Nazis”. Best wishes to you. Keep speaking up and speaking out. We need people like you.

  4. Dear Teagan, I love your letter and I have faith that you and Dr. Cole will make something good of this. I am all for you and your shirt. Though “punch Nazi’s” is a great punchline, it is evocative too of a worry about physical violence and intolerance. This dilemma that you and Dr. Cole are thrown into is reminiscent of old and recurring issues, see “ Nazi Doctors” written by Robert J. Lifton, M.D., or where the ACLU defended the rights of a despicable neo-Nazi group to peacefully march thru the Town of Skokie, Illinois. I feel your pain daily as I watch Republican senators and congresspeople, who mostly revile nazism, not vote against horrible Trump policies. No one is standing -up, as you are doing. Yet, as much as I’d like someone to punch Lindsay Graham, or worse, I’d love to see you, Dr. Cole, and the Lexington Public Schools do something good, less violent, and interesting with this.

    As a retired Child and Adolescent Psychiatrist in Lexington, I have watched the LPS stand-up for kids many times and against the Westboro Baptist Church, for example.
    I have always been impressed and only rarely disappointed. The discussion prompted by the ACLU in the 1970’s, and around the Westboro church’s targeting gay kids and LPS’s curriculum more recently, needs to be repeated for every generation. People are exceedingly fragile and are readily intimidated by others. How to learn to speak up for what’s right and protect everyone’s safety at the same time. Bruce Springsteen is doing it. Lindsay Graham is not. Can you, Dr. Cole, and LPS embrace this challenge?

    Love to see it. I have faith, Timothy Dugan, M. D.

  5. I’ll stand with you Teagan. You’re learning wonderful a life lesson, remember to be curious not judgmental.
    “Without deviation from the norm, progress is not possible.”
    From the definition of Famous Paraprosdokians is this quote from Winston Churchill, “You can always count on the Americans to do the right thing—after they have tried everything else.”
    ~Guy Jarvis

  6. I find it very telling that so many comments dance around the main takeaway of this brave writer’s letter, namely that antisemitism exists at Diamond Middle School. In fact, the young writer states ” I was making a safe space in the hallway with my shirt where I could silently fight back against the antisemitism in my school.” Instead of a serious response to a concerning trend of rising antisemitism in our town, commentators condescendingly criticize the writer about condoning violence with the word “punch” on her shirt. This essentially encapsulates a much larger problem: gaslighting Jewish people that the bigotry and hate they are experiencing is just in their minds (and maybe even deserved).

    Diamond Middle School Principal Dr. Johnny Cole has mishandled antisemitic incidences since he has taken the position from the previous Principal who also mishandled. Apparently having a background in DEI provides a rich breeding ground and justification for excluding antisemitism as an actual hate crime that should, and must be addressed directly and clearly. On the day this Letter to the Editor was published, Dr. Cole sent a letter to Diamond School 7th graders apologizing to students and families who felt “unheard” “left out and erased” during a presentation addressing antisemitism. Rather than reaffirm that antisemitism is real, that education about antisemitism is necessary and appropriate, and that supporting Jewish students does not diminish the experiences of others, Dr. Cole sent a letter of apology for holding the session. In that letter he states “we are working…to build something better – a way of learning about hate, prejudice, and justice that includes all of our communities and all of our histories.” As a Jewish person I hear from that letter, that the suffering of Jews is not enough of a reason to hold an educational session and that while there are antisemitic incidents at the school and community, it’s necessary to make sure other groups are included in sharing their experiences. This notion is not that different from saying to the Black Lives Matter movement, we see your suffering and pain but actually All Lives Matter, an approach that, to the best of my knowledge, was not very popular in Lexington. Jewish residents can recognize gaslighting when we see it! It’s time to replace school leadership with one that has the capacity and ability to actually address hatred against one particular group, whatever that group is and even if its Jewish students.

  7. I’m proud of you Teagan. As a fellow diamond student, I am completely on your side here, and I want to state that you writing this is so inspiring to me and I’m sure to many other students. You’re amazing, and thank you for giving me the opportunity to know a such a wonderful person as yourself for all this time. i stand with you, and I always will. I look forward to see your activism and outspokenness continue as we go to Highschool. You’re an amazing writer and person, and you have inspired me to be better in to many ways to count. Thank you for writing this and expressing what I and many other diamond students have been thinking recently.
    Signed,
    Violet Solomon

  8. Thank you, Teaghen, for your eloquence and for bringing your originality, commitment to justice, and important voice to school and to our town!

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