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Authors: David Levithan
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it.
But it tripped Mr. Davis up. It gnashed him.
That was the thing about the Decents—they were as possessive of the flag as they were of the country. They thought it should only belong to some people, the
deserving
people. When the whole point of the flag—and the country—was that it belonged to everyone. During the Reign of Fear, as the Greater Depression worsened and the War to End All Wars failed so brutally, all kinds of wacky legislation appeared trying to “protect” the flag. One congressman wanted the government to
license
flags, so they wouldn’t get in the hands of “un-Americans.”
This didn’t go over well in most places, and luckily it never passed.
While Mr. Davis was clearly surprised to see the flag on Jimmy’s T-shirt, I wasn’t; I knew that he believed in America, in the same way that Stein believed in America. I knew the flag to him was a way of translating a concept made of so many words and understandings and complications into one clear image, the same way you can express love with a single drawn heart. By wearing the flag, he wasn’t just saying,
This is mine, too.
He was saying,
This is all of ours.
Mr. Davis started bombarding him with questions about British troop movements—each of which he answered correctly. Then Mr. Davis moved—as all lessons about the War of 1812 seemingly do—to “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
“Our national anthem,” Mr. Davis invoked. As if we didn’t know.
Jimmy raised his hand.
I was afraid he was going to point out that “The Star-Spangled Banner” hadn’t been written as a national anthem, and in fact had been set by Francis Scott Key to the tune of a British drinking song. Mr. Davis clearly didn’t want to take any chances—he ignored Jimmy’s hand and kept lecturing.
“Ahem,” Mira coughed, looking at Jimmy. I got what she was trying to do. I turned to Jimmy, too, as did a large part of the class. Even the ones who hadn’t left with us the previous day were playing along. They wanted to see what would happen.
“Mr. Davis,” Principal Cotter said, “I believe you have a question.”
“Yes, Mr. Jones? What brilliant words do you have to share with us about ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’?”
“I just find it interesting that we only kept the first verse,” Jimmy said. “I mean, for the National Anthem. There were three other verses, right? And the one we made into our national anthem is the one that has all the questions.”
“What do you mean, questions?”
“I mean, we don’t really know if the flag is still there.”
Mr. Davis huffed. “
Of course
it’s still there.
Clearly
you haven’t done your reading—Francis Scott Key woke up early on the morning of September fourteenth, 1814, and saw the flag flying over Fort McHenry to mark victory over the British.”
“I know that,” Jimmy answered calmly. “What I’m saying is, the National Anthem is a question. It doesn’t say, “’Tis the star-spangled banner / O long may it wave / O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave’—that’s the end of Key’s
second
verse. No, instead we use the verse that goes, ‘O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave / O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?’ Our national anthem ends with a question mark.”
“There is no question,
” Mr. Davis insisted.
“But there
is.
That’s the whole thing. That’s why it’s such a brilliant national anthem—because we all believe that it’s there, even though there’s nothing that tells us it still is.”
I knew Jimmy was pushing Mr. Davis closer and closer to the edge. This time, I decided to do something: I started clapping. Keisha, Mira, and some of the others joined in.
“Enough!” Mr. Davis yelled.
“Okay, quiet,” Principal Cotter chimed in. But Mr. Davis was already long past that.
“Shut up! All of you! Shut up!” he shouted. Then he turned on Jimmy. “How dare you?” he spat out. “How dare you come into my class and
But it tripped Mr. Davis up. It gnashed him.
That was the thing about the Decents—they were as possessive of the flag as they were of the country. They thought it should only belong to some people, the
deserving
people. When the whole point of the flag—and the country—was that it belonged to everyone. During the Reign of Fear, as the Greater Depression worsened and the War to End All Wars failed so brutally, all kinds of wacky legislation appeared trying to “protect” the flag. One congressman wanted the government to
license
flags, so they wouldn’t get in the hands of “un-Americans.”
This didn’t go over well in most places, and luckily it never passed.
While Mr. Davis was clearly surprised to see the flag on Jimmy’s T-shirt, I wasn’t; I knew that he believed in America, in the same way that Stein believed in America. I knew the flag to him was a way of translating a concept made of so many words and understandings and complications into one clear image, the same way you can express love with a single drawn heart. By wearing the flag, he wasn’t just saying,
This is mine, too.
He was saying,
This is all of ours.
Mr. Davis started bombarding him with questions about British troop movements—each of which he answered correctly. Then Mr. Davis moved—as all lessons about the War of 1812 seemingly do—to “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
“Our national anthem,” Mr. Davis invoked. As if we didn’t know.
Jimmy raised his hand.
I was afraid he was going to point out that “The Star-Spangled Banner” hadn’t been written as a national anthem, and in fact had been set by Francis Scott Key to the tune of a British drinking song. Mr. Davis clearly didn’t want to take any chances—he ignored Jimmy’s hand and kept lecturing.
“Ahem,” Mira coughed, looking at Jimmy. I got what she was trying to do. I turned to Jimmy, too, as did a large part of the class. Even the ones who hadn’t left with us the previous day were playing along. They wanted to see what would happen.
“Mr. Davis,” Principal Cotter said, “I believe you have a question.”
“Yes, Mr. Jones? What brilliant words do you have to share with us about ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’?”
“I just find it interesting that we only kept the first verse,” Jimmy said. “I mean, for the National Anthem. There were three other verses, right? And the one we made into our national anthem is the one that has all the questions.”
“What do you mean, questions?”
“I mean, we don’t really know if the flag is still there.”
Mr. Davis huffed. “
Of course
it’s still there.
Clearly
you haven’t done your reading—Francis Scott Key woke up early on the morning of September fourteenth, 1814, and saw the flag flying over Fort McHenry to mark victory over the British.”
“I know that,” Jimmy answered calmly. “What I’m saying is, the National Anthem is a question. It doesn’t say, “’Tis the star-spangled banner / O long may it wave / O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave’—that’s the end of Key’s
second
verse. No, instead we use the verse that goes, ‘O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave / O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?’ Our national anthem ends with a question mark.”
“There is no question,
” Mr. Davis insisted.
“But there
is.
That’s the whole thing. That’s why it’s such a brilliant national anthem—because we all believe that it’s there, even though there’s nothing that tells us it still is.”
I knew Jimmy was pushing Mr. Davis closer and closer to the edge. This time, I decided to do something: I started clapping. Keisha, Mira, and some of the others joined in.
“Enough!” Mr. Davis yelled.
“Okay, quiet,” Principal Cotter chimed in. But Mr. Davis was already long past that.
“Shut up! All of you! Shut up!” he shouted. Then he turned on Jimmy. “How dare you?” he spat out. “How dare you come into my class and
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