I've gotten a lot of questions about the Reynoldsburg strike lately (how it's going, what it's like, what we're fighting for, etc.). I've also spent a lot of time being hurt and angry and had a lot of ideas floating around in my head that I just can't seem to get rid of. So I'm going to do what I do and write them all down. If you actually take the time to read this all, you may or may not agree with me by the time you get to the end of it. That's okay, as long as it least helps people to gain some perspective from the inside.
Let me tell you a little bit about what strike life is like. I wake up an hour and a half earlier than I normally do for work to hit the picket line. It's pretty darn cold in the mornings, and it's only getting colder, but we walk to stay warm. That's the easy part. Fast forward an hour, and things start to get tougher. In come the vans, bringing in unqualified people (and yes, I've looked up the names parents have given me, and I can factually say many of these people are NOT qualified to work with my kids) file in my building. I know that one of them is in my classroom, in my personal space, making it her own. Imagine someone else moving into your house uninvited. For a teacher, that's the closest parallel I can make. I spent years upon years going to school, student teaching, volunteering, working with kids, striving to better myself as a teacher on my own time and my own dime, to have someone else who has not invade my space. The thought makes my skin crawl, and it insults everything I've done to build my career as a professional. Fast forward another half an hour, and you get to the hardest part of my day: arrival. In come the kids, some walking, some on buses, some in cars. Many stop for hugs. Kids are standing, hanging out of bus windows, some waving enthusiastically, others with hands pressed up against the windows with crocodile tears, all screaming my name. This is both the best and worst part of my day, as I get to see the students who I love so much, who I am out there for, but I also know what they are about to walk into. I've had 4 kids go in crying this week because their "sub" is mean to them and just yells all the time. I've had students clinging to me, clinging to parents, begging them not to force them to walk into that building, and these are kids who love school, kids who never get in trouble. I even had a parent tell me on Friday that my "sub" said if her son told her that she's mean and yells a lot, it's because the kids are bad and they deserve it. This breaks my heart to watch them, but it also fills me with anger, an anger that I think may be close to hatred, and that scares me. I have never hated anyone before. But make no mistake, these kids are my kids, and every bone in my body tells me that I should be protecting them from anyone who does them harm. Instead, I feel like I'm sending them into the wolves, which goes against every instinct I have as a teacher and as a human being. The only way I make it through this is knowing that, though they are suffering in the short-term, I'm fighting for what's better for them in the long run. It still doesn't make me feel any better about it.
Once arrival is over, it's back to walking the line. It was cold and rainy all day Friday, and it looks to be that way again this week. I expect that by the end of the week, I'll probably have bronchitis. This is usually about the time of the year when it sets in, and I maintain it on and off until March. It will probably last longer this time, as I don't have insurance to pay for a doctor visit. Not being able to breathe in the cold all day doesn't help. In addition, for those of you that know me, I have a crappy immune system and my fair amount of health issues, especially stomach problems. I'm watching those medications dwindle and wondering how much my refills are going to cost me. This is one more thing over which I can stress about.
For the most part, the middles of my days are uneventful. The one positive about all this is that I have been able to bond with my fellow staff like never before, and we are stronger together than we have ever been. That being said, we've been criticized for looking like we're having too much fun on the picket line. Let me go ahead and clear up that misconception now; no one is having fun. I watch multiple teachers, myself included, break down daily. I've sat through the sobbing, the yelling, the anger, the urge to quit and leave the teaching field all together, the hopelessness. We've also been criticized for looking too sad. Apparently, there is no appropriate way to look when you strike. That's fine. Just know, if we look like we're "having too much fun," it's us doing all we possibly can to keep morale up, to keep every last one of us from breaking because I can promise you, we all die inside a little more every day this goes on.
Fast forward again to dismissal, our other favorite time of the day because we get to see our kids again. We make it a point to chant, "We love...our kids" as a call and response while we hold up signs, just to make sure they haven't forgotten how much we care. Afternoons are filled with hugs, and usually less tears. However, they bring their own brand of disappointment, as we watch students come out looking dejected, complaining about how they're bored, holding up stacks of worksheets clearly at least one, if not several, years below grade level. We hear stories of how no learning is going on and how awful school now is for our students who once loved to come. This leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Finally, the last part of my day comes when I see the daily update about what kids are doing in school and what's coming up. This is perhaps the most bitter pill for me to swallow. Not just at my school specifically, but all across the district, hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of resources are being poured into classrooms to help these unqualified subs babysit my students so that they don't actually have to manage a classroom or teach. Technologies that teachers have asked for and been denied have now magically been budgeted. Guest speakers and presenters we would have begged to come in for in the past are now there for these people, many of whom could care less one way or the other, to watch our children enjoy. They're planning no lessons to build on this learning; it's simply that much less time they don't have to worry about babysitting. And while they're handed hundreds of dollars worth of technology or presentations, I have literally thousands of dollars of materials sitting upstairs in my spare rooms, purchased with my own money, because the schools didn't have money in the budget to provide me with the resources I need to do my job.
None of these things make me feel valued as a person, as an educator, as a professional. Each day becomes more demoralizing than the last, and yet still, I continue to strike. And just to be clear, my value-added data came back as above average last year. I'm one of those younger teachers you've probably heard about who stands to gain a 17% pay increase or whatever ridiculously large number the dispatch threw out there from this merit pay offer, and I still voted to strike. I'm still standing strong on that vote because, if you haven't noticed from this post, it's not about the money. It's about the time, the resources, the respect, and the recognition we deserve for all we do on a daily basis and for how much of ourselves we continue to give to our students each and every day, even now when we can't physically be in the classrooms with them. So yes, I made a "choice" to strike, in the sense that I didn't feel that, given the ridiculousness of the board's proposal, that I really had any other option. I made a "choice" to do what's best for my students and my profession, and that's a choice I would make over and over and over again. If you've made it this far and you still don't agree with me, then that's your right, but I hope I've at least been able to provide some perspective. Strikes are not fun. Strikes hurt the students, the teachers, the parents, and the community. Strikes are not something any of us want, but sometimes you have to stand up for what you know is right. I would die for any of my students, and I will darn well stand up and fight for them as long as I'm alive and able to do so."