As the statewide
teacher Walk Out draws nearer, I find myself hearing, feeling, and imagining
ever more perspectives. As a parent of
an elementary school student, this situation affects me in multiple ways. But I recognize my good fortune. As inconvenient and disruptive this situation
is, I am confident my family will get through it generally none the worse for
wear.
My pointless story
is not about taking sides or making a political statement. But I have considered the following
perspectives with varying degrees of sympathy and empathy. My conclusion: no one in Arizona is
completely unscathed by this situation, and the effects do indeed reach beyond
our state but I would be here all day if I don't draw a line and just consider
the effects within our state border. In
fact, I'm not even going to write out all of the perspectives I see that are
within AZ because of the time it would take.
The spotlight (which
can be both illuminating and scorching) is on our public school teachers. I'm a product of public schools (for the most
part, having attended 1st and 2nd grade at a parochial school in Houston, TX). I've been taught by public school teachers in
Houston, Metropolitan Cincinnati, and Metropolitan Atlanta. The teachers I know in Arizona are those that
are my friends and peers, and those who have taught my daughter in elementary
school.
When I look back at
my K-12 experience I remember specific teachers for varying reasons. Of course there is variance among their
performance, as there is among employees within any industry. But what is clear to me is that on the whole,
teachers are human, they want their students to learn and succeed, and great
teaching is an art form.
My 3rd grade teacher
sure had my number. It was as if she had
a window into my brain. While I was
scheming (probably looking for a way to skimp on the work), she knew it. She would call me out on it and redirect me
in ways that were gentle but firm. I was
a very sensitive kid and she never trod on my spirit, but helped me find ways
to excel. I remember doing a research
project on George Washington Carver and putting on a peanut butter taste test
in class. I remember doing (seemingly
endless) work learning about the history of the great state of Texas and
drawing flags for Texas, Mexico, etc. and singing "Deep in the Heart of
Texas" in class. I remember winning
the grand prize in our class when she organized a Jeopardy! tournament (and in
true packrat form, I kept the plastic trophy for 30 years), and I remember her
beaming smile as she congratulated me.
And I remember she gave me a book she thought I would like, Caddie Woodlawn, as a gift because she knew I
was moving to Ohio before starting 4th grade.
In 4th grade, in a
new state, I found it hard to fit in. I
was an overweight kid and I was short, so I was horrified when I discovered I
weighed 100 lbs. My teacher seemed overweight
too, so I felt comfortable talking to her about it. I confided to my teacher that I was starting
a diet to lose weight. Looking back I
know she didn't know how to help me but she listened and she was concerned for
me. It was the mid-80s and we didn't
know as much as we do now about food and health. She knew I loved to read and she lent me a novel
that (although I can't recall the title) I read and loved. I was excited because it was a "grown
up" book, probably 400 pages long, and well above the 4th grade reading
level.
In the first two
years of middle school, I remember three teachers. Two were my math teachers: the first one
spoke to us with enthusiasm and smiled when he taught. It was contagious and to this day I love how
easy it is to convert units within the metric system because of the way he
taught it to us. The second decided to
try an experiment that year: teaching us without issuing us textbooks. I was intimidated by him because he was not
smiling and friendly like the first one - he always seemed serious and I
couldn't tell if he was smiling under his mustache, but I doubted he ever did. His experiment failed me and I ended up with
my first (and only) D on a report card.
My mom and I had a meeting with him and he tutored me after that so I
could bring up my grade. It surprised me
that he didn't realize I was intimidated by him, and when we met with him I
realized he was human and he did care.
All I saw before that was gruff Mr. Mustache. When we moved to Georgia that summer, my new
school refused to place me in pre-algebra for 8th grade because of my math
grades. But my mom insisted I was
capable, so they let me take a placement test.
I got to take pre-algebra in 8th grade - Mom was right.
The other teacher I
remember was my English teacher, who was rigid and unkind to me. I felt like she didn't like me. I have no idea if there was any truth to
that, but that was my perspective as an 11-year-old. One of my strongest memories of her class was
the delight of disruption that came with excessive snow days.
As I got older, and
we had different teachers for different classes, I didn't develop strong bonds
with most of them as I did when I was in elementary school. It seemed like part of surviving high school
was joining in with others as they found a reason to laugh about the way
particular teachers were. I don't
remember the real name of a history teacher who was bald, because my friend and
I secretly called him Cue Ball. He was
kind of a no-nonsense guy (Vietnam vet maybe?) but I remember appreciating him
- he did make me learn, he made history compelling, and for all his
entertaining drill-sergeant style rants, he did show a kind, caring human side
when it counted.
I'll never forget my
Latin teacher, not only because I took her classes nearly every quarter of my
four years of high school, but because I will always think of her as the
absolute paradigm for kindness, compassion, empathy, and sweetness. She had a very Southern drawl but she was
serious about teaching us to pronounce Latin correctly. And she had a horrible, debilitating health
condition that kept her out of the classroom so much that she became my mental
example of how bad things happen to good people.
I'm not a certified
teacher. I don't work for a school. But what if I did? How would I decide whether to join this
movement and communicate that I am willing to participate in a Walk Out --not
only to my peers, but to my employer?
What if I lose my job? What if I
lose my certification? What if I'm
living paycheck to paycheck? Or, what if
I'm okay financially, but my (our) action causes my coworker(s) who don't want
to participate in this to lose their job and they are one toe above the poverty
line? What if I was scheduled to retire
and now I have to push that back? What
if we had a big celebration planned, or what if my child is getting married and
now I'm supposed to be working when I was planning to help, or travel for the
wedding? What about my students who are
vulnerable if school is out? Will they
be able to eat? Will this cause them to
fall into trouble? Will it make them
stop trusting me and will they lose all the progress they've made this year? Am I doing the wrong thing?
How about the
administrators? How will we manage to
reschedule classes? What about summer
school? Graduation? How about programs that work with community
colleges for dual enrollment, or what happens with AP exams? How do we support our staff through this? Or how do we handle this if our leadership
does not support our staff through this?
If I'm a parent who
can't take off work when my child's school is unexpectedly closed, what will I
do if my kids aren't old enough to stay home alone and I don't have friends or
family who can watch them? Where will I
get the extra money to put them in a day camp when all the free ones are
full? How can I get them there if I
don't have a car or there's no public transportation to the location? Should I trust a pop-up day camp that some
church has opened up? Who vetted these
volunteers? What if someone isn't safe
and something bad happens to my child?
What if I don't have a sack lunch for them to bring? What if I can't speak English? Who will help me?
If I'm a teenage
student and I'm supposed to take a trip this summer right after the school year
was scheduled to end, now what do I do?
Or what if I have a summer job all lined up and now I won't be able to
start working when I'm supposed to? Will
I get fired? What if my family is
depending on me to work and bring income into our household? What if I'm on my own and/or in the foster
care system? What if I'm supposed to
take a summer school class at a college and it starts before the extended
school year ends? What if I have a plane
ticket to visit my parent or family in another state? Will I lose money? What if my family is moving and we can't
change our plans? Will I not pass? Will I lose credits? Will I not graduate? What if I just enlisted in the military and
I'm supposed to go to boot camp right after school was supposed to end?
What if I'm a
business owner and I employ high school students, or parents who can't come in
to do their job because they are suddenly without child care options? What if I can't afford to be short-staffed
and I have to let my employees go because they're in an impossible situation
and can't show up to work?
What if I'm losing
money because I run a summer business or program that has to be canceled?
What if I'm just a
taxpayer and I don't have kids or grandkids?
How will this seem fair if my peers or coworkers end up getting special
consideration for their situation, like preference for adjusting their vacation
time, flexible work hours, or approval for teleworking when I am not granted
the same opportunities? What if I'm a
manager trying to handle a diverse staff, seeking to maintain fairness and
equity among my staff?
What if I'm in
office, trying to bring a resolution forward that may work, and I can't get my
fellow legislators and the governor on board?
These questions only
begin to scratch the surface of what we and people all around us are going
through.
With all of my
history as a student, I can imagine what my daughter is seeing and thinking and
feeling about this Walk Out. Although
her experience this year has been disruptive because her teacher had to
abruptly retire after January, I don't think that teacher or any of the
substitutes she's had have ever lacked concern for her and her learning. She may be happy about a change in the
routine, she may be hesitant about being "happy" about it because she
knows it might extend the school year.
But what I've tried to do is explain what I know about why this is
happening, including giving her a sense of the terrible position her teachers
are in right now. I speak support and
positivity to her teachers and staff with her in front of me, so she can see my
example and know that this is not easy for them and we understand that. And it's not okay to be disrespectful no
matter what side of the fence we stand on and regardless of who's involved in
the conversation (in public or at home).
The fact is, though,
that my daughter is safe and cared for, whether school is in session or
not. She has the luxury to not worry
about breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, food on the weekend, and where it might
come from or if it doesn't come. She has
two parents who both work, but whose employment situations do provide some
flexibility here, and fear of losing a job because of the Walk Out is not part
of our conversation right now. She has
grandparents and relatives who live in the area and have stable living
situations, and there may be options and support for her because that family
exists. What's more, we don't have any
major summer plans that will be destroyed by this situation.
I'm not saying
people shouldn't take a stand or voice their opinion. But I am saying everyone, and I mean
everyone, is affected by the Walk Out.
Please keep this in mind as we navigate this uncharted territory.
