Or, rather, some of you will go to the polls. I won’t because I am not a citizen, at least not a citizen of the United States (and neither were George and Annemarie when they founded the school), and most of the day-to-day population of Roeper is not old enough to vote.
So, what was George intending to convey when he said to a school full of children, “I am a citizen of the world?” Was he suggesting that he was special in some way—does one have to be well-travelled, or speak multiple languages, or have migrated from one country to another, or endowed with some special insight—to be a citizen of the world, or did he mean to say that we are all citizens of the world? And what would that even mean?
We tend to think about citizenship as (1) connected to a specific country and (2) involving specific rights. To be a citizen of some place means that you can do things that non-citizens cannot, like voting and running for office. There are other things that are only shared with non-citizens on a conditional basis, such as entering or staying in the country, or having a job, often out of fear that citizens will have their rights and entitlements taken away by others who “don’t belong here.” (In that connection, I suppose there are some who might object to me being Head of School. But because I am a white man and came across the northern border, so long as I avoid spelling out honour, or centre, or manoeuvre, people will assume I belong here in a way they wouldn’t if I looked or spoke differently.)
But there is no world government to vote for, and no world taxes to pay, so how can you be a citizen of the world?
During the time of the French Revolution, it became customary for people to address one another as “citizen” as a way to indicate equality and a shared responsibility to the ideas of liberty.
On the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services website it states: “Citizenship is a unique bond that unites people around civic ideals.”
In his seminal, if controversial, science fiction novel, Starship Troopers, Robert Heinlein asserts that true citizenship “lies in the field of civic virtue. A citizen accepts personal responsibility for the safety of the body politic, of which [they are] a member…”
And, in speaking about Roeper in particular, George noted, “Community members must see themselves first and foremost as members of the Roeper community rather than as a student, a staff member, or a parent. Community members of all ages must learn to be concerned about the whole institution rather than its individual parts.”
So, if we roll that all up, we come to the conclusion that citizenship really consists in an agreement to follow the rules of the community and contribute to its wellbeing. In return, we enjoy the benefits of being part of that community.
In the context of our school, one can demonstrate citizenship in simple, yet important ways:
If you’re a senior you can be a citizen by leading by example and participating in student government, but also writing your representative to express your views—whatever they may be—about gun control or climate change or reproductive freedom, because soon you will be able to vote.
And for the adults who work at the school we can be citizens by modeling good behaviour: being polite and fair and professional and ethical, checking our own biases, and respecting boundaries and roles.
What we can all do, in the immortal words of long-time Roeper employee Mariann Hoag, is take care not only of ourselves, but also each other and this place. If we simply do that, we will be great citizens not only of Roeper, and the United States (or whatever country we might be citizens of), but also the world.