Dragging “Main” was our primary activity on Friday (after the football or basketball game) and Saturday nights in high school.  We didn’t actually spend much time on Main Street.  Fourth Street was the main drag in town.

The Fourth Street circuit was bookended by the Methodist Church and Grade School on the north and Dr. Poling’s office and Leinwetter’s Funeral home on the south.  We put in hundreds of miles on that one street over the course of a school year.  On a good night, there would be twenty other cars honking as they drove by.  Some nights there were only a handful of cars.

Dragging “Main” without getting bored was an art.  The best at the craft knew how to mix up the evening with a stop at Dunker’s Radio and T.V. side lot to chat with someone in another car; drive around Atwood Lake; go up High School Hill; around Kelley Park or stop at John’s Dew Drop Inn for a game of pool (or in my case Frogger).

On a slow night, the masters of dragging main would mix up who was in the car or combine one carload of passengers with another.  The best nights were spent in cars that could easily pick up KOMA out of Oklahoma City or, if you were lucky, WLS out of Chicago.  A good tape deck with 8-tracs from now classic bands such as REO Speedwagon, Journey and Foreigner helped, too.

But, even these tricks of the trade were not enough to satisfy.  Sometimes you had to get creative.  Or, go home out of sheer boredom.

Matt Cunningham, Tim Yount and I faced that dilemma one night.  I can’t remember if it was early fall or late spring.  I remember it was cold enough for jackets.  We just couldn’t get fired up about steering the family Chevette around the streets of Atwood.  Hard to imagine, I’m sure, but that’s how we felt.

Our first attempt to liven up the evening fell flat.  Singing Christmas Carols in October or March (whichever it might have been) annoyed more than entertained our audiences.  After awkward experiences at three houses we climbed back into the Chevette to brainstorm plan C.

I don’t know who the fourth, fifth or sixth person was to join us in the car.  I don’t even remember how we came up with the idea.  But, by the time there were seven or eight riding along we were on a mission.

People started to notice the number of passengers in the car as we cruised down Fourth Street and through the Dunker parking area.  Some people lobbied to join us.  After a few more bodies we realized we had to be more strategic.  We needed freshmen and others of diminutive stature.  At one point, we stopped at John’s (Dew Drop Inn) in search of people near five feet and 100 pounds.

The rule we made for ourselves is that the car had to be drivable (a relative term clearly with no regard for safety).  Our goal was to shoehorn in as many people as possible and still drive down Fourth Street.  We packed people on the floor, popped the hatch (the most comfortable seat available) and rolled down the windows to accommodate protruding body parts.  Our final tally exceeded 20 in the car.

My dad was in the middle of his take pictures of everything phase of life.  We stop at our house where I ran to find my dad while the rest of the passengers tried to hold their positions.

Our night that began in the doldrums became one for the record books – or at least the scrap books.

Despite $24 million dollars in reduced state funding over the past three years, as calculated by the Colorado Department of Education, St. Vrain has stayed true to the community-supported vision for our schools that was the basis for the 2008 mill levy override.  Over the past few years, St. Vrain has:

• Increased instruction time for students at all academic levels including an additional 30 half-days for those most in need.
• Implemented a focus school programs that emphasize science, technology, math, leadership and the arts.
• Increased advanced course offerings available to secondary students.
• Made it possible for teachers to integrate technology into instruction through a district wide wireless school initiative.
• Maintained relatively small class sizes – in particular at the elementary level.
• Established unique partnerships with the business community to give students real-world learning experiences.
• Built schools to keep up with growth and improved existing schools to be safer for students and more energy efficient.

The results of these initiatives have been significant.  More than one-third of St. Vrain schools are accredited with distinction based on Colorado performance measures.  Importantly, the number of schools on improvements plans has been cut by more than half.

St. Vrain Valley schools have been recognized by the College Board, the U.S. Department of Education, the Colorado Department of Education and Bloomberg Businessweek to name just a few organizations that have noted St. Vrain’s excellence.

Most important, families and students are choosing St. Vrain. Despite stagnant population growth in the region, student enrollment has increased by more than 3,500 students over the past five years.

Yet, per pupil funding is lower than it was five years ago.  According to Colorado Department of Education figures, funding to St. Vrain has been reduced by $943 per student.  State policymakers estimate that another $200 to $300 per student will be cut from St. Vrain next year.

How has St. Vrain stayed the course on its strategic priorities in the face of massive reductions in funds?  The short answer is district employees – with support from the community – have stepped up to the plate to protect students’ learning experiences.

Under Dr. Don Haddad’s leadership, the district finance team has identified more than $11 million dollars in permanent new revenues and savings.  District staff has won more than $8 million dollars in grants.  Support staff and administrators have been reduced to the point that more cuts would lead to diminishing returns.  District employees agreed to a pay freeze and a soft hiring freeze – while workloads to implement new instructional programs, meet accountability standards and pick up the slack of a reduced workforce have increased.

St. Vrain administrator salaries, for better or worse, are among the lowest in the metro area.  There has been no increase in central administrators despite a 20% growth in students since 2005.

Families and students have had to step up, too.  Parent organizations are being asked to raise more money to fund school basics.  Families are feeling the pinch of instructional and activity fees.  The pressure on families will mount if there are more cuts in state funds.

Plans are in the works to garner more savings and new revenues in the coming years.  The district will retire facilities too costly to maintain; increase services to home school families; expand St. Vrain Online Global Academy, and move toward self-funded health care as a way to provide better care, work with local providers and save money.

It will be difficult to stay the course in St. Vrain if the state continues to reduce education funding.  A University of Denver study suggests that K-12 education funding in Colorado will be cut by 19% for 13 of the next 14 years if there are no changes to state policy.  There are not enough efficiencies and innovations to make up for cuts of this magnitude.

That is why the St. Vrain Valley School Board endorsed Proposition 103 – a temporary, five-year increase in the state sales and income tax to ensure no further cuts to education.  This initiative would raise the sales tax from 2.9% to 3.0% and the income tax from 4.63% to 5.0%.  The same as it was in 1999.

The Colorado constitution requires voters to approve any increase in taxes at the ballot box.  The St. Vrain Valley School Board encourages all voters to make an informed decision.

*     *     *

This piece appeared as a guest opinion in the Longmont Times-Call on Sunday, October 16, 2011.

News that five U.S. soldiers were killed in a Baghdad rocket attack brought the war closer to home for my family. I had just settled in at my desk this morning when I received a call from a good friend and colleague. I knew something was wrong by the tone of his voice.

His son is alive but badly injured. He was among the sleeping troops when three rockets struck the U.S. forces’ barracks. As my friend said, “At least he’s talking to me.” The parents and spouses of 4,459 American troops can’t say the same.

In this Nov. 3, 2007 file photo, the helmet, boots, dog tags and weapon belonging to fallen U.S. Army Spc. Brandon Smitherman from 2nd Battalion, 7th Cavalry Regiment, 4th Brigade, 1st Cavalry Division are silhouetted as his comrades pay tribute at Forward Operating Base Marez in Mosul, 360 kilometers (225 miles) northwest of Baghdad, Iraq. Iraqi security officials said Monday, June 6, 2011 that a rocket attack has killed five American troops in Iraq. Earlier, the U.S. military said in a brief statement that five troops were killed but gave no additional details about where the incident occurred or how they died. (Image: Associated Press)

Listening to my friends’ gratitude, grief and fear elicited in me my first truly visceral feelings about the war. Hours later, a knot continues to grow in the pit of my stomach.

My family is like most Americans. We are several steps removed from the war. I don’t go to bed dreading that the phone might ring with unthinkable news. I don’t worry every minute of every day knowing that a person I love most in the world is in grave peril.

I, like ninety-five-plus percent of all Americans, can push the war out of my mind for long stretches of time. War is so far removed from daily life that, at times, it just becomes background noise. We hear the war news but it doesn’t really register as important.

Today is a case in point. The news of the attack on U.S. troops was prominently featured on many mainstream media news websites, yet the story barely registers on the news sites’ most popular and most read lists. Rep. Anthony Weiner’s admissions that he’s a lewd Tweeter are sure to dwarf any story about our three wars.

Have we Americans become so numb to war that we don’t really care? Recent polls suggest we don’t. “War/Iraq/Afghanistan” registers as a top concern for only four percent of adults nationwide.

We Americans are good at recognizing our troops. Many of us are quick to say “Thank You” when we encounter a young man or woman in uniform. We stand in ovation at parades and celebrations. At a recent high school graduation I attended, the only ovation of the day was for the five (out of 231) graduates who enlisted in the Armed Forces.

American business understands our desire to recognize our troops, too. American Airlines, for instance, trumpets its policy to let military personnel board planes first and encourages everyone to tell our troops thank you. They want us to know they care.

But what’s behind our reflexive celebration of those who serve? A good friend, career military, commented to me while he stood to be recognized at a Sea World dolphin show, “I sometimes wonder if they do this for us (men and women in uniform) or themselves.”

In this June 9, 2009, file photo, a girl peers from her front gate as a U.S. Army soldier from A Co., 1st Battalion, 5th Infantry Regiment patrols in western Mosul, 360 kilometers (225 miles) northwest of Baghdad, Iraq. (Image: Associated Press)

I have thought often about his comment ever since. Is the applause I add to the ovations for military personnel genuine? Or, is it just a habitual courtesy, done without thought?

And, what about the advertisements? Isn’t there something inherently cynical, even if well intentioned, about using actors portraying service men and women as a tool to drum up business? Is it appropriate for our troops to be relegated to commercial icons?

It requires very few people to wage modern war. That is a good thing and bad.

We, the masses, are largely disengaged because there is nothing for us to do.  Thus, it is easy for us to support (or ignore) war without thought or deliberation.  We have nothing meaningful at stake.

How else does one explain that going to war with Libya barely elicits an off-hand remark at most dinner parties and backyard barbeques?

It should be of grave concern to us all that war has become so casual. With so few of us engaged in thinking and caring about our wars (let alone directly involved), political leaders don’t have to be accountable. It’s possible to have unfocused or misguided war policy year after year because, at the end of the day, only four percent of us give a damn.

Meanwhile, parents and spouses of young American soldiers go to bed each night dreading that the phone might ring before they wake.

*     *     *

John Creighton writes on community life and public leadership at johncr8on.com. He can be found on Twitter @johncr8on and on Facebook. Read more of John’s work in Dispatches From The Heartland at the Communities at the Washington Times.

The onslaught of moths is my least favorite part of late spring/early summer.

I hesitate each time I open a window this time of year flinching in anticipation of being hit in the face by the dirty beasts. I pretend not to notice the horrid brown spots on the windows not wanting to admit what they are.

I also try to ignore the growing piles of bodies blocking out the light from the ceiling fixtures. You can clean them out but the next day the accumulation is just as great. It’s better not to notice.

The cat gets fed up with the flying nuisances cornering one on the floorboards. I don’t mind the cat eating what it catches (while it looks disgusting). I don’t appreciate the screeching that proceeds the kill… at three o’clock in the morning.

On more than one occasion I will nearly drive my car off the road this time of year as I try to coax a stray Miller out the window. They are impossible to ignore even in oncoming traffic. They must be gone no matter what price must be paid.

I become nostalgic for the summer hunts of my youth. Dusk, or just after dark, was the best time of day for our quest. My brother and I would turn off all the lights in the house. Then, room-by-room, we would turn on a single light. Broom in hand we would herd the flock of Millers to the next room until we rounded up “hundreds.”

Reaching the last room one of us would continue to herd our quarry toward the sole light in the house. The other had the privilege of lying in wait vacuum wand in hand. Touching the “on” button with our foot… thoop, thoop, thoop, thoop, thoop….

Ah the satisfaction.

It doesn’t seem mature to engage in such a hunt in one’s forties. But, when Millers bombard me from all sides as I turn on a light in a dark room I think, “Wouldn’t it be nice.”

I heard my first round of graduation speeches last night. The narratives included the usual mix of “we can change the world.” I enjoy the inherent sense of optimism expressed by young people. But, I heard something else last night that struck a nerve.

Graduation (ajschwegler – Flickr)

One student recounted events of the past decade that shape our shared memories. It was an unsettling tale.

Young people – all of us – could easily look back on the past ten-plus years and feel a lot like Charlie Brown. One could easily spin a narrative that nothing’s going right in the world. It’s been a decade of terror, war, disasters and economic upheaval.

This year’s graduates are old enough to remember 9/11. Madrid and London have also been attacked. Our country has been at war nearly, if not, half their lives. We don’t yet know if the Middle East is on a path to democracy or will implode. And, in a war of a different type, our neighbor Mexico has lost tens of thousands of lives in a drug war.

Terror also strikes close to home. The Columbine and Virginia Tech shooting sprees and Washington, DC sniper attacks took place during these students’ formative years.

Major natural disasters seem to be an annual event: Tsunami’s in the Indian Ocean; Hurricane Katrina; earthquakes in Haiti; floods in Pakistan, and, this year alone, the earthquake and nuclear disaster in Japan, record floods along the Mississippi and devastating tornadoes throughout the Southeast – not to mention the BP Oil Spill.

Our economy began to unravel when this year’s seniors were freshman. First came the mortgage crisis and the bursting housing bubble. Then came the collapse of Wall Street followed by the auto industry going belly up. The economy continues to stumble along with an anemic job market that leads, by some estimates, two-thirds of college graduates to return home.

Bailouts, stimulus, austerity and deeply partisan fights over health care and budgets have dominated political news the past few years. The Tea Party was born in protest. And, Americans hold their elected leaders in lower regard than even the days of Watergate.

Americans are in a bad mood. Nearly three in four Americans is dissatisfied with the way things are going in the United States according to recent Gallup polls. This is a slight uptick from two or three years ago but nearly double the level of dissatisfaction recorded in 2000.

Looking back at the top news stories of the past decade and it’s easy to understand why.

I would argue there is different narrative that took shape while this year’s graduates were going through school that will have a far greater influence on their lives.

If I were asked to write a headline, I would describe the past ten-plus years as “The decade of liberation.” The tools of learning, production, distribution and communication are accessible – or on the verge of being accessible – to us all.

It is increasingly possible to learn where and when we want, to design and manufacture our own products, to share and collaborate with people across the globe. A kid working with a few friends in his dorm room can now conceive of and create one of the most powerful companies in the world. The possibilities for us all are profound.

I am curious to know how historians will write about these times. Will they focus on terror, wars and economic strife? Or, will they emphasize the new infrastructure that is taking shape that enables us all to be creators and proprietors of our own lives?

I hope this year’s graduates learn from the difficult experiences we’ve had to endure so mistakes are not repeated and so society can be better prepared.

I also am excited for young people who will embark into a world in which the limits of time, place and, to large extent, economics are no longer constraints. We are in the early stages of a remarkable time in history. It’s a great time to be young.

*     *     *

John Creighton writes on community life and public leadership at johncr8on.com. He can be found on Twitter @johncr8on and on Facebook. Read more of John’s work in Dispatches From The Heartland at the Communities at the Washington Times.

It is part of America’s history that we knock down the barriers of discrimination. We have prospered as a nation because of our tolerance and acceptance of newcomers.

It also is part of our history that tolerance, let alone acceptance of minority groups, seldom comes easily. Our history is blotched with far too many examples of discrimination, segregation and exclusion. As a nation, we have had to overcome slavery, the disenfranchisement of women, internment camps and our own versions of apartheid.

The American experience for many, perhaps most, immigrant groups began with persecution. Organized efforts were made to exclude each group of newcomers – whether Irish, Italian, Latino, Jewish or Catholic – from the American dream.

The fearful side of human nature begets discrimination. All societies are afraid of the outsider. We erect barriers that make it difficult for newcomers to join our communities. Even in a country that prides itself on tolerance, the process of acceptance can be ugly.

We overcome our fears with the help of public leaders who have the rare gift to see through hate and focus on our nation’s potential. These leaders have the ability to endure personal ridicule, or worse, and still maintain their optimism that the future will be better.

At the moment when these leaders first step forward and call on Americans to be their better selves they are often labeled radicals and menaces to society. As time passes, we recognize them as the true leaders they are.

We are celebrating the bravery of such leaders this year with 50^th anniversary commemorations of Freedom Riders who helped bring an end to segregation.

Our children and grandchildren learn about the these struggles in history books and ask, “How could such injustices have persisted for so long?”

This is the arc of American progress that, unfortunately, plays itself out again and again. Indeed, this familiar American saga is replaying itself in Tennessee.

The Tennessee legislature is considering bills that target immigrants and Muslims – including U.S. Citizens. Senate Bill 1028, in its original form, equates Muslims’ religious practices with criminal activity while Senate Bill 1670 would restrict the movements of legal refugees.

The bills’ supporters claim the legislation will promote the safety and the general welfare of Tennessee communities. The rhetoric is not so benign.

It would be easy to understand if Muslims in Tennessee feel angry or disillusioned. Many Muslims (or their families) came to America to escape persecution only to experience it here. Instead, Muslims in Tennessee are energized. Public leaders within the Muslim community, like so many American leaders who came before them, are rising to the occasion.

Remziya Suleyman is one of these leaders. A native of Kurdistan, whose family endured persecution in Iraq, Ms. Suleyman views the turmoil in Tennessee as a “blessing in disguise.”

Remziya Suleyman, Policy Coordinator for the Tennessee Immigrant and Refugee Rights Coalition.

“The Muslim community in Tennessee is awakening for the first time,” she told me last week. “We’ve been energized because Tennessee is our home. This is where we raise our children, where we have our businesses. We are Americans and this is our home.”

Ms. Suleyman reports that more than 500 Muslims have participated in rallies. Hundreds are writing letters and scores are meeting with their legislators.

“My proudest moments are when we are able to sit down with legislators who didn’t even know they had Muslim constituents. We’ve been able to educate them about Muslims in Tennessee. It’s been very positive,” Ms. Suleyman explained.

It is not surprising that Ms. Suleyman draws her inspiration from the civil rights leaders of the past. “I look at the hard work, the obstacles and the sacrifice of those who worked for women’s rights and civil rights. If not for those struggles, I wouldn’t be here,” she says. “Their struggles are why I have a sense of optimism.”

It’s not always easy for Ms. Suleyman or her colleagues. There is price one pays when a person chooses to be a leader in the public arena. “I know, every day, as a Muslim, as a woman, and as an immigrant, people will look at me differently. When I go out wearing my hijab I know there will be stares and comments.”

Faith, community, and the future are what help Ms. Suleyman through the difficult days. Ms. Suleyman believes there are more difficult days to come. “I think it will be tough for a while but we’ll get to a better place,” she remarked.

“I look at the positive changes,” she continued. “This experience is unifying our community. We are learning about each other. We have the support of the interfaith community. Tennesseans from all walks of life are saying [these bills] detract from the reputation of our state.”

But, it is the future more than the present that motivates Ms. Suleyman. She says that when she needs to recharge her batteries, “I look at my nieces. I don’t want them to go through what I’ve gone through.” She doesn’t think her nieces will. “I think we’ll look back on the racist rhetoric and these actions [by legislators] and say, ‘I can’t believe this happened.’”

That is the story of American progress.

Grammies has six granddaughters and three grandsons. She showers them with love, attention and more candy than her daughters would prefer. She is generous with her time patiently sitting down to play board games; work on sewing projects; reading books at the end of a long day; playing foosball and pool, even shooting hoops in the backyard. These are the things her grandchildren are likely to remember most.

She has given her grandchildren another gift they won’t fully appreciate, perhaps, for many years to come. She is a true role model. Through her actions she teaches her grandchildren (children and son-in-laws, too) what it means to work hard, give back to one’s community and how to act with courage. Seeking public office is one of the ways she’s done that.

I would have understood if Betty never ran for mayor of Atwood. It was not her first attempt to win elected office. She served previously on the Atwood Township board and then chose to run for the legislative seat once held by her brother-in-law Mike Hayden back in 1996. The experience took its toll.

We’ve all become numb to campaign tactics that unfairly slander people’s character. Such practices weren’t as common fifteen years ago – at least not in western Kansas legislative races. So, it was a surprise when an anonymously published flyer surfaced the last few days of the campaign accusing Betty of heinous, blatantly untrue, beliefs.

People who should have known better, people who had known her all her life, questioned Betty’s character. It was enough to sway the election in favor of her opponent. Losing the election was not hard for Betty to accept. The wounds caused by the mean spirited attacks took longer to heal.

Most of us, having endured nasty slanders, would abandon politics and public service for good. Not Betty. She still felt a calling to serve.

I keep a copy of the anonymous flyer in a box in our basement to show to our children when they are older. Betty’s legislative campaign, which took place before six of Betty’s grandchildren were born, is an important part of our family’s history.

The fact that Betty was still willing to serve after that experience is a testament to her courage. It is a lesson to all of us to persevere. As the old saying goes, “Don’t let the bastards get you down.”

My daughter Emma is a feminist at heart, in the best sense of the word. She is driven by a belief that women should aspire to pursue any dream. She finds inspiration in women who have helped to shatter glass ceilings. For instance, Emma is enamored with the women’s suffrage movement. She once created a PowerPoint presentation about women’s struggle to earn the right to vote – not for school but to share with her friends.

In the fall of 2007, Emma and I were talking about a distant relative, Judith Rankin, who was the first woman elected to Congress. Emma declared, “I want to be the first woman to do something.”

“Like what,” I asked.

“Maybe I’ll be the first woman president,” she replied.

“Well, Hillary Clinton might beat you to that (she was still the front-runner at that time),” I said, dousing her dream the moment it came to her mind.

Emma was silent for a while considering her options. “Maybe Ill be the first woman Pope,” she exclaimed with renewed spark in her voice.

“You’ll figure out something,” I forced myself to say while trying to suppress a laugh. I didn’t want to open a discussion about restrictions on women’s role in the Church.

Emma’s passion for women’s achievements adds to the pride she feels about her Grammies. “It’s so cool to tell friends Grammies is the first woman mayor of Atwood,” she recently while we drove from school to her orthodontist appointment. “It makes me proud!”

Betty endured hardships and overcame obstacles that my daughters will never know. She comes from a generations of women here were sometimes discouraged from pursuing their dreams. And yet she persevered.

Betty doesn’t talk often about the challenges she’s had to overcome. But the inner toughness that has helped her to succeed has been passed along to her daughter’s and granddaughters. It is a family of strong women.

My daughters are better prepared to persevere themselves when they encounter the inevitable obstacles to their dreams because of the example set by their Grammies. For that, I will always be grateful.

Betty and John are moving to Colorado in the next few months to be closer to their grandchildren. Their decision is bitter sweet for me. I’ve been going to the Mickey house in Atwood for more than half my life. It is as special a place to me as my own boyhood home.

But, there is a definite upside. When Joni and I first moved to Colorado I told Betty I would give her a coupon book with vouchers for five visits a year. She burned through her limit a long time ago. Now, at least, she’ll have a place of her own to stay.

Happy Mother’s Day, Betty.

The open question is whether we can turn this moment of pride into a sustained period of national unity – the currency that facilitates action on difficult challenges. It won’t be easy.

Image courtesy of www.rasmussen.com

We are living in a period of hyper-individualism. Americans place a greater premium on personal interests and self-expression than on the country’s shared interests. The “me-first” attitude is not a function of our political system, which is a reflection of our nation’s culture.

Hyper-individualism is driven by people’s expectations for how the world should work.

The evolution of M&Ms candies is a metaphor for how people’s expectations have changed. In the mid-1990s, before the dot com boom, M&Ms created a democratic process of sorts that allowed people to vote for blue, pink or purple to replace tan in the mix of six colors – blue was the winner. People had to live with the decision of the voting majority.

No more. Who cares if friends and neighbors prefer blue? You may choose M&Ms from among two dozen colors. For a fee, add a business logo, personal greeting or a photo, if you’re so inclined. You don’t have to live with the will of the majority. Do what you want.

Our desire to differentiate ourselves from others is reflected in the nationwide adoption of specialty license plates, too. On the same radio broadcast where I listened to reports of bin Laden’s demise, I learned that Arizona has approved Tea Party license plates.

The Tea Party license plates are among dozens Arizonans may choose from. The state’s drivers may proclaim their allegiance to the Suns, Cardinals or Diamondbacks or favorite state university. They may promote breast cancer research, energy efficiency, and character education, or encourage people to spay and neuter their pets.

The Gadsen Flag

It’s not enough for some people to just be Arizonans. They feel compelled to make a personal statement, too.

Clearly M&Ms and license plates are trivial matters in a vacuum. But — they represent a larger trend in our society. Increasingly, people expect to do what they want, when they want, and how they want, without having to make compromises to accommodate others’ wishes.

Schools are one of the many institutions that feel the impact of these new attitudes.

A decade or two ago, young families willingly, if not always happily, conformed their lives to the rules and schedules of schools. Families chose where to live and when to vacation based on school boundaries and calendars.

Families reject these constraints today. In Colorado, the idea that a school district should decide where your child goes to school is as arcane as suggesting women shouldn’t work outside the home.

Many parents don’t hesitate to pull their kids from school for extended family trips without regard for the school calendar – or the extra imposition that absences place on teachers and classmates. These parents figure the educational experience of travel equals that in the classroom. Classroom work can be made up at another time.

There are clear upsides to people’s growing confidence that they can and should do what’s in their best interests, rather than defer to authorities. Families, for instance, don’t have to feel stuck with a school they don’t want their children to attend. I would never go back to the no-choice era of schools. And, in the future, schools must be more flexible.

However, there are also downsides to people’s sense of personal entitlement. One such consequence is that we are losing our sense of what it means to be part of democratic institutions. When we encounter obstacles, or when our preferences aren’t among the majority, more and more of us choose to walk away, rather than find ways to work it out.

Options, while often wonderful, also beget a lack of commitment to the group, community and the institution. As a result, we often avoid the work required to sow the seeds of unity.

Over the past few days, there has been an outpouring of gratitude for the men and women in the Armed Forces and their families who made great sacrifices in the decade-long efforts to fight terrorism. That is as it should be.

The best way to repay those who risked, and all-too-often gave their lives, is to renew our democratic skills and sensibilities. It is time for each of us to make a commitment to be actively engaged in civic life, not with a niche group of like-minded people, but with groups that transcend narrow boundaries.

National unity does not begin with the President or Congress. It begins at home.

*     *     *

John Creighton writes on community life and public leadership at johncr8on.com. He can be found on Twitter @johncr8on and on Facebook. Read more of John’s work in Dispatches From The Heartland at the Communities at the Washington Times.

The “60 Minutes” investigation alleges that the multimillion-seller Three Cups of Tea is filled with inaccuracies. Additional accusations are that co- author Greg Mortenson’s charitable organization, Pennies for Peace, has taken credit for building schools that don’t exist.

My family purchased his books. My wife read the young-adult version of Three Cups of Tea to our children. We fell into the trap of thinking that purchasing books would support children in another part of the world. That may not be true.

The tragedy for Mortenson is that it didn’t have to be this way.

As best-selling author Jon Krakauer, once a supporter and now accuser of Mortenson, said on the 60 Minutes report, “Let’s be clear. He (Mortenson) has done a lot of good. He has helped thousands of school children in Pakistan and Afghanistan… He deserves credit for that. Never-the-less, he is threatening to bring it all down, to destroy all of it, by this fraud and by these lies.”

Author Greg Mortenson shows the locations of future village schools to U.S. Navy Adm. Mike Mullen, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (Photo: Associated Press)

I don’t feel “betrayed” by another disgraced “hero.” As a fan of professional baseball and bicycling, I became jaded toward embracing people as heroes a long time ago. I’m more concerned about what this episode says about us.

We tend to place greater value on the work of individuals over that of groups and institutions. We elevate individuals to celebrity status. We jump on their band-wagons, supporting their cause du jour with little or no knowledge of whether their ideas are good or their claims are true.

Rather than saying shame on Mr. Mortenson we should be saying shame on us. Yet this pattern repeats itself over and over again.

In education, we believe that celebrity mayors and celebrity billionaires have better ideas to reform education than those who have dedicated their careers to finding more effective ways to motivate and support children.

In politics, we look to celebrity politicians who have more media than policy experience to lead us through the most challenging times in decades, dismissing those who have worked in the trenches as being part of the problem.

In philanthropy, we put people like Greg Mortenson on a pedestal while the work of groups such as Rotary International go largely unnoticed by the media and general public. Indeed, the work of Rotary stands in stark contrast to the efforts of Mr. Mortenson.

Rotary International, through the PolioPlus program, is a leading force in the worldwide effort to eradicate polio. There have been no book tours. There are no celebrity leaders. Rotary clubs made up of anonymous individuals raise and contribute dollars and volunteer time to eliminate this dreadful disease. The Rotary story does not make a good read. It is just good work.

The best aspect of Rotary International’s work is that it does not depend on a celebrity. Individuals come and go. But, the organization and the work continue.

Philanthropic organizations are certainly not immune to scandal. United Way and Red Cross, for instance, have had to clean up after executives guilty of severe improprieties. But, organizations can survive scandals. Those responsible for imprudent or illegal activities can be fired or arrested. The good work of the organization can continue.

Celebrity based organizations aren’t as resilient. Mr. Mortenson has done laudable work. But if he falls from grace, the support for Pakistani and Afghan children may disappear as well. That’s the real tragedy of the recent revelations.

The next time a Greg Mortenson comes around, and one will, think twice. We need to ask ourselves whether it is better to support an individual with a good story or an organization that can sustain good work.

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John Creighton writes on community life and public leadership at johncr8on.com. He can be found on Twitter @johncr8on and on Facebook. John is also a member of the St. Vrain Rotary Club in Longmont, Colorado. Read more of John’s work in Dispatches From The Heartland at the Communities at the Washington Times.

Community engagement often is translated as a set of activities and/or events. People attend book readings, film screenings, a community dialogue. Attendance at these events becomes the purpose of engagement as well as the measure of success.

These types of activities are often worthwhile. But, does hosting an event, even if well attended, really make a library more relevant in the community? Is a meeting room with ample seating capacity an irreplaceable community asset? Can no other organization besides a library host a book reading, film screening or discussion?

To discover the full potential of civic engagement we must look beyond activities and set aside attendance as the primary metric of success.

Richard Harwood, founder of The Harwood Institute for Public Innovation, offers a definition for the purpose of community engagement that elevates engagement’s potential to new heights. Harwood challenges organizations to pursue community engagement as a means to improve the civic health of the community.

Let me state that again. The purpose of community engagement is to improve the civic health of the community.

What are some of the elements of a civically healthy community? The Harwood Institute’s research identifies factors such as these:

• Diverse layers of leadership at all levels of the community.
• A strong set of links and connections between diverse groups of people.
• Boundary spanning organizations and leaders willing to hold up a mirror to the community.
• A culture of constructive dialogue.

Embracing the idea that the purpose of community engagement is to improve the community’s civic health challenges engagement organizers to consider a different set of questions. The same activities are viewed in a different light.

A library team, for instance, might think differently about film screenings. The relevant questions become:

• How can we use film screenings to cultivate more diverse leadership at more levels of the community?
• How will the film screenings help people of different backgrounds forge strong connections?
• In what ways will the film screenings challenge people to look in the mirror and engage in constructive dialogue?

The ability to achieve these goals becomes the priority. Attendance becomes a secondary goal. These types of questions might even lead a library team to look outside its own buildings as the best place to show films and host conversations.

The measures of success change, too. Gatherings of a small group of people who are from diverse parts of the community may be deemed more successful than a well-attended event of like-minded library patrons.

An institution that is able to contribute to the civic health of its community – rather than just host an entertaining event – over time is far more relevant.

To what extent is your organization improving the civic health of your community?

John Creighton, a Longmont, Colorado leadership consultant, writes on community life and public leadership at johncr8on.com. He can be found on Twitter @johncr8on and on Facebook. John also is a member of The Harwood Institute’s national faculty.