I’m nowhere near ready to write about this, but feel that I should include a snippet of the outside world in this otherwise unapologetically navel-gazing blog. I hope it provides a historical anchor when we look back in years to come.

This is the week we thought we would be celebrating the election of our first woman president. A week when we could finally put this repulsive presidential campaign behind us. A week when we could tell our children that the American people hold themselves to a high standard, are welcoming toward immigrants, stand up for women’s rights, defend the religious freedoms enshrined in the Constitution, etc., etc., etc.

I have alternately felt shock, grief, and anger in the days since, but my overwhelming feeling every morning, as the reality dawns on me again, is shame. I am ashamed of my country and I’m ashamed of myself (for being party to this debacle, for being so naive as to think it was impossible, for drifting so far from so many other Americans, for having enough privilege that the storm will likely leave me unscathed). I know these aren’t particularly productive emotions. My fundamental optimism will reassert itself in time. I’ll be reinvigorated to continue my work as a passionate educator, believing, like Jefferson, that an educated citizenry is our best hope.

But for now, I’m profoundly sad.