On Independence

It was September, 1962 when our senior Advanced Placement English teacher (I’ll call her Miss Pepper) revealed our first writing assignment. It was simple: Defend or reject this statement with support from your reading: “Life is futile.”

I remember thinking how negative that assignment was. We were thirty teenagers, all anticipating college visits, Homecoming, football, and all the other senior events that make high school exciting. We lived in a nation with a young and charismatic president and a beautiful First Family. The White House was Camelot. Our city was planning a new baseball stadium and negotiating for a professional football team. Life was good.

Most of my classmates, however, chose to support the statement. Not because they agreed with it, but because it was easier to support. The majority selected Macbeth. Who could not think of that “tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow” soliloquy? My best friend selected The Mayor of Casterbridge. A few selected “Ecclesiastes.”

I chose The Declaration of Independence.

All through school, I was one of those kids who mix their studies together like the ingredients in a cookie dough. I found connections between history and literature. I analyzed poetry with the logic of geometry. Like life itself, I believed everything intertwined.

My American History teacher had just completed our study of the Declaration. Looking at it closely, I realized its poetic nature. Every word was selected carefully. I could imagine Franklin advising Jefferson to use “self-evident” instead of Jefferson’s original choice, “sacred.” In that phrase, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness became solid and ancient and amazingly real. Even the use of the first person plural had meaning. It was “We hold…” not “I” or “They.”

The organization followed all the best rules for a persuasive essay. After that amazing sentence regarding self-evident truths, Jefferson presented, in a clear fashion, the basic theory of John Locke. Governments do not come down from royalty to us. We create them. Then, he listed all the complaints against British rule. At the end, the signers pledged their sacred honor.

But more than anything, the Declaration shouted out “Life is meaningful!” It told us that, with liberty, we can pursue our dreams. Some suggest “the pursuit of happiness” and “The American Dream” related to owning property. That might be correct, but it also implied making a difference in your life and the world.

The signers certainly made a difference. They changed more than North American politics. The movement they began in 1776 extended way beyond our shores. The French revolution followed. Imperialism became troubled. Democracy thrived. Lives became meaningful throughout our globe.

The men who supported and revered that document went on to have the most meaningful lives of all. They later created our constitution and the Bill of Rights. Washington did not attend the Continental Congress; therefore, you won't see his name on the Declaration. At the time, he was leading the Continental Army and following the orders of Congress. He became the force behind the document and the role model for the executive branch of the new nation. Jefferson extended the size of America by thousands of acres through the Louisiana Purchase. Many of the signers of the Declaration were instrumental in producing the Northwest Ordinance of 1787 which set aside land for schools in the territory north of the Ohio River and east of the Mississippi (which eventually formed Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, Wisconsin, and part of Minnesota). My own public education in Cincinnati was a result of that Ordinance. Jefferson spent his last years founding the University of Virginia.

Yet these men were not perfect. Many were slave owners. Did they really mean all men are created equal? “Men” in that century and even today, usually means “humans—men and women.” Did they consider women to be equal? Keep in mind that some of these same founders later added the 3/5 rule to the Constitution. Is 3/5 of a man a man?

The men were not perfect, but the document is. It created the hope and the ideas that molded our future. It has survived way beyond the lives of its creators. The spirit of the document is voiced in The Bill of Rights, the Gettysburg Address, the Emancipation Proclamation, the Reconstruction Amendments, the Nineteenth Amendment, the Civil Rights Acts of the last century, and, most recently, the Supreme Court’s decision on birthright citizenship. And, the Document did not only lead to changes in America-- its impact was, and is, worldwide.

If I were to select the most influential writings of the world, I’d place the Declaration as number 2 after the Holy Bible.  

So I wrote that paper., typed it, and handed it in right on time.

Three days later, Miss Pepper made me rewrite the entire essay. According to her, The Declaration of Independence was not a “work of literature.” I argued with her. She had not stipulated that we use a poem, essay, novel, or play in the assignment. She would not budge.

I wrote again. I can’t remember whether I supported or rejected the statement. I don’t know what “work of literature” I selected. All I remember was her rejection of the Declaration.

So, here we are many tears later, awaiting our nation’s 250^th anniversary. A major article in last week’s TIME praised the Declaration. The piece sounds almost exactly like my high school essay from 1962. The newer American Literature textbooks contain the Declaration. So, Miss Pepper, what do you think now?