My husband said to me this morning, “You are always in teacher-mode.”

As a result I posted a warning and got my ears boxed. Actually several times, and I deserved it at least once.

I have been irritating people I like and love with posts on Facebook. Here’s the one I defend:

The death and funeral of George H.W. Bush. I did not him like as President, and I find little reason to like him better as a public figure now that he is gone. People who were not even born when he was president, or who were not old enough yet to enter school, object to articles I offered to provide “a little balance.” I was reminded of the glittering idealism of his administration I found in a The Washington Post opinion piece:

“Abraham Lincoln’s ‘better angels of our nature’ and George H.W. Bush’s ‘thousand points of light’ are companion verses in America’s national hymn, for Lincoln and Bush both called on us to choose the right over the convenient, to hope rather than to fear, and to heed not our worst impulses but our best instincts,” Meacham said.

The title of the article, not the excerpt I posted, drew fire. The man is dead. There has been extensive coverage elsewhere in the press dealing exclusively with what a wonderful person Bush was and about the details of his career and of his funeral. Television stations and national newspapers streamed the entire event without comment and also posted his son’s speech with explanation of the events he referred to (all very respectful), etc.

Years ago the local weekly newspaper carried a story about the death of a former student. The author managed to make the poor girl appear in a bad light, taking comments out of context from another teacher, editorializing on the passing of a teenager. I was heartbroken to read it. She was only a girl and allowed to make mistakes. No one chose her to be the leader of the free world. Her life should have been her own.

Though my impulse is to admit my failings, often in public—and they are legion, usually the result of losing my temper—I would hope to escape anyone noting them after I die. Though I worked for most of my life as a teacher, the job is not political. I have surely made mistake and caused harm, but I did not lead my country to war. I did not neglect public health. I have not been accused of molesting anyone.

When a neighbor died recently, my husband spoke at her memorial. We’d had our differences over the year. We both irritated one another at time. We had our complaints. But we also had a friendship of over 30 years. We kept an eye on one another’s homes. We called one another when the whales were passing. We chatted most every day. I would not more have dragged out petty disagreements than my underwear. We had a personal relationship not a public record between us.

Presidents are different, after all. They deliberately choose a public life. Their public words and actions are subject to public scrutiny and that brings a level of judgement most of the rest of us are spared. It was a public event of national importance, not a private funeral. Days of news have lauded him. I understand that some people are incapable of hearing a bad word about anything relating to a dead person. I have felt that way myself when a local paper offered unkind comments about a former student. But this is also about my country and my country’s leaders. I detested Bush in life as a president, but it’s clear he was much loved as family member and friend. His son’s speech and others were touching. I can respect the private man without pretending to admire what he did as President or after as a public figure. Here are a few of my grievances concerning the man’s public life:

Clarence Thomas (nominated) and Kavanaugh (campaigned for)

AIDS

the Middle East

the Kurds encouraged to rebel and then offered no support when they did

So much damage still filtering down on where I and others live.

He was Presidential, granted. He was, by all reports a kindly and generous man in his private life. I might even have shed a tear watching his funeral. I can see he was loved and that people sorrow at his passing. Does this mean I must appreciate him as a former president?

If the current president outlives me—it is possible since he has far better health care than I will ever be able to afford—will I be expected to say only nice things about his time in office? Are there nice things I could say? Perhaps. Perhaps his family and friends will laud him as a courageous leader making American great again.

Though I am only an ordinary private citizen, I beg to disagree.