I am going to ask you a question. But as I ask it (as you read it), I want you to focus on the feeling from the question instead of the answer to the question. Here’s the question.

Who are you?

I can only imagine–literally, I can only imagine–but I like to imagine you felt the question. It digs in. It takes hold. It stays, for it is a sticky question. It’s awkward to ask; it’s awkward to answer–even for ourselves. And it tends to stick around for the entirety of our lives. Who Am I?

But I think between the two (Who are you? and Who Am I?), there’s an important difference to be discovered.

Though they are basically the same, and though we generally explore the same spaces to discover an answer, there’s a difference. “Am I” comes from the inside, and “Are you” comes from the outside. Yes, I know, obviously. But when it does–if it does–come from the outside, what is the asker really asking? Our name? Our occupation? Our gender? Our background? Does the asker even know? Is it a superficial question, or is it a deeper question? Either, both, neither? Maybe it’s just superficial small talk. But what if it was deeper? What if when we asked someone, “Who are you?” we really, actually wanted to know. And, in turn, when we are asked this question what could we, would we, should we actually share?

Yesterday, I asked my kids the question, for I really, actually want to know. And, I really, actually want them to think about what they could/would/should share. Here’s the assignment.

I have given many “Who Am I?” assignments to kids over the years, but yesterday, I decided to change it a bit and asked instead, “Who are you?”

And I asked them to imagine the answer as a t-shirt for the world to see. And this is why. The question needs to be asked; the answer needs to be known. I imagine a lot of what’s wrong in the world stems from our not knowing because we are not asking. We don’t really know ourselves. And we don’t really seem to care about knowing others. But what if we did know?

If school is just a microcosm of and a springboard to society, then when is there a better time to begin asking and knowing? When I dreamt up the t-shirt idea, this is what I imagined. Crowded hallways with kids in their “who shirts.” As kids approach each other from the front, they see the “who” in the shirt. As kids follow from behind, they consider the “who” in their own shirts. I imagine a connected cosmos of constant “whoness.”

And while it may well be that this is simply a conjuring from over-caffeination, I believe sincerely that who matters–now, later, ever. So, I asked the question because I want to know.

I haven’t looked at the kids’ answers from yesterday, but I am eager to see where they began. I am more eager to see where they continue. I wish I had thought of this earlier in the semester. Next semester, we will start on day one.

What’s the deal with the “Biggest-Ever Writing Assignment.” Oh, I was mostly messing with the kids, seeking to get their attention. Many of them dread the work of writing, so I thought I would “scare” them a bit. But I also had something else in mind with “big.” One, it’s big because it’s them. Two, it’s big because it’s less. It’s only one sentence. But it’s so much more than that. Some kids will simply write, “I am Ben.” But others will really wrestle with this. And as we continue with it each day, they–I believe–will grapple a great deal with “who.” And that’s just what I want them to do.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.