Teacher Strike
Our neighborhood schools are on strike. It is day 13 of the strike and day 9 of missed school days. I will not claim to know the solution to this devastating problem. It is not my job to figure it out. But, I will share that I fully fully respect, adore and support our teachers, and saying it is just not enough. I will strive to uplift their voices in this turbulent and confusing time.
I deeply value education. I deeply value teachers. I know that education (K-12) is a female dominated occupation, and on a planet where sexism is still alive and well, it is not surprising to me that education and teaching are undervalued. It is also not surprising to me that people are fighting to keep it undervalued. The patriarchy lives for this type of work. Still, I value education. I know many others that do too. And even the parents that resent the teachers for striking, must on some level value the teachers too if they continue to trust teachers with their children each day. Or, maybe I am completely wrong, who knows.
I do know that teachers are well educated professionals, many of whom have higher degrees and continual training. And, yet, it’s a societal norm for people with absolutely no idea of the day to day operations of a school to declare that they know what schools deserve and to keep that number in a specific range in the name of “there just isn’t funding”. Just the other day, a random woman without true understanding of what teachers take home for a living (or how long summer break actually lasts), told me that “teachers don’t deserve that more pay since they already get 3 months off for summer.” This stranger, who likely hasn’t stepped into a classroom since her own education, felt with a certainty that teachers make enough, their value is low, and they should not be advocating for more. That is her truth. It is not mine.
In order to explain why my value of teachers is so high, I want to share snippets from my 13 year professional career in the schools as a speech therapist.
In some of my first years, I worked as a speech therapist in a non-public school for children with autism who required a significant amount of support. For my safety, I was immediately trained in restraints and in how to keep my back to the wall when walking down hallways. I worked hard to have kids connect with me and maybe, just perhaps, take me up on my offer for alternative and shared communication modalities (most of my kiddos did not use verbal language). Most days, I was exhausted. I spent all day on guard and simultaneously deeply caring for the well being of the kids in the school. I remember holding one young learner who did not use verbal language and crying just imagining how hard it must be for him to communicate and how hard it must be for his family. Every person I worked with, I was invested in and I cared about. I still to this day have a gift a student gave to me on full display in my home. All the while, I was bit, hit, kicked, sworn at, and spit on constantly. One day, a student decided to use my hair as a rope swing. I still have whiplash from that 15 years later. Yet, it was all part of the job. I worked before and after school. I bought items with my own money for my students. And, even with my masters, I could barely afford rent.
Years later, I went to work in the public schools. There was some relief that I was not needing to use my training in restraints as often, but it was draining in its own way. For some time, I specialized in working with students that used AAC (alternative and augmentative communication aka talkers/devices) to communicate. Ideally with AAC, I am not just working with a student, but I am also teaching the aide how to use the device as well. That never happened. The aides needed their breaks, and were chronically understaffed and covering for one another when one was out sick or out for whatever reason. My job was technically speech therapist AND stand-in aide as needed. But this meant, sometimes when I had to cover, I also had to miss sessions and make up the minutes other times. This was not part of my contract but I loved and adored my students and the staff I worked with. We were all part of a team, and I was a team player. I later found that this stand-in role would happen at almost every school I worked at.
In the public schools, one of the hardest parts was working with angry parents in IEPs (Individualized Education Plans). Many parents saw the school as the enemy. They often didn’t trust our professional opinions. They were advocating for their children. But, man, did they come to meetings with some choice words. We were yelled at and told we were incompetent and then released from meetings to go back and work with their kids. There was one family that suggested 20+ speech goals for their child, when typically in a school year, learners could make progress on around 4 speech goals. They wanted the best for their child, but the unreasonable micromanaging and lack of trust made me question what the point of it all was. And, I loved their kid. This kid was so cool. But his meetings caused me anxiety for months. It was always a fight with them, even if they said they were grateful for our work. Sadly, this mistrust and anger was the same across any school I worked at.
I’ve also worked as a speech therapist in a private practice. In the expensive outpatient clinic, in stark comparison to the schools, I was highly valued and seen as a trusted team member. Because the private practice also contracted me out to the schools, sometimes I experienced the mistrust and anger and then gratitude and praise all in one day. It was disheartening. I was the same person. The services were the same. The reports were the same. The genuine care and effort were all the same. And in the schools, I felt worthless.
Most days in the schools, I had little to no prep time. Any block of time I had was filled with IEP meetings, questions and check ins from co-workers or varying degrees of crisis management ranging from comforting a child in emotional crisis, to child elopement, to making repair after fights or bullying, to being available and providing connection to a child who has a history of wanting to end their life, to calling CPS because of reported abuse. I experienced all of these crises, some more often than others. And, crisis management in some form or another is normal and expected for most educators I know. Having a consecutive hour to think and lesson plan was a privilege I typically found once or twice a year.
There was another time I cried to my most favorite boss at my most favorite school about how completely overwhelmed I was by the number of evaluations I had on my plate. They have to be completed on a specific timeline and I was working part time. It technically was not possible based on the number of hours I was contracted to work. I had to cry to her in a closet, because her office was in use by the Occupational Therapist because there is never enough room in schools. The principal had meetings in closets. Regularly. Where people cried in overwhelm. Regularly. She was a team player too. She was one of my favorite team players.
I’ve worked with teachers that are defeated at the end of a day because the mix of students with behaviors without the support of aides is unbearable for any one single person. You know who lost in that classroom? Not just the teacher. Every. Single. Student. The fewer paraprofessionals there are to support children who need it, the less attention other kids get in the class, the less learning there is overall for everyone. And yet, this teacher started every morning with a fresh smile and optimistic outlook. I’ll never know how.
There was the teacher that had no support for her student that really needed it. Without the daily support the student needed, his behaviors escalated until the student was throwing furniture and the classroom had to be evacuated once or twice a week. I would go and either wait with the student so the teacher could teach her class from the outdoors or I would take over the class so she could care for her student. Again, everyone lost because there was just not enough help. This is not unique to one school. I have worked across at least 10 schools and every single one experienced a version of this problem.
All this experience in the schools and I am still a mom with a kid missing weeks of school at this point because there is no contract for our teachers. I have privilege in that my primary job is caring for my 3 year old, so I can easily take care of my 6 year old each day that this strike continues. Yet, I tell myself I am a bad mom for not being quick enough to enroll my older daughter in pop-up day camps. I tell myself that signing her up for pop-up camps is also cheating because really, we should be enjoying quality time. I tell myself I need to make sure every day feels special for her because if she gets sad, it will be my fault. I blame myself for us ordering take out 5 days last week, even though we actively split cooking in our home. I offer help to neighbors, and I tell myself I should do even more even on my most tired days. I listen and comfort my friends that feel like they can’t take anymore. I drop food off for teachers as many mornings as I can but I tell myself it should be bigger and better. I email and call elected officials every day, because I have convinced myself it is my job to figure out the magic words to get this all to end.
As a parent, I acknowledge that some of our kids are really struggling without routine and regular educational services. I know parents are hurting watching their kids suffering under a tremendous amount of loss and uncertainty. And some of us worry about the academic losses or college application deadlines that might get missed. I know some of us work and cannot afford to find childcare or take time off of work to be home with our young kids. I know some of us are squeezing in work remotely between pockets of care for our kids. I hear you when you say you feel like you are failing as a parent in these moments. I feel it too. And it is not lost on me the trauma resurfacing of feeling so completely isolated from our community and scrambling to do it all like we did during lockdown just about 4 years ago. I hear the discomfort, the disappointment, the anger and hurt across every corner of this community. I want to know how to end this strike. The uncertainty is draining and defeating. I feel the panic sweep in every night at 6:30 pm with only an hour to go until we learn if school will or will not happen the next day. I want my hope and my simultaneous lack of hope to all control the message on the other end of that 7:30 pm call.
I don’t know how to get this to end. I don’t know the magic words. I’m down to wishing on stars each night in hopes that one day it will just be irreversibly obvious how valuable teachers are making it effortless to find money to fund them once that is actualized.
In all this uncertainty, it brings me comfort to know there are some things I am certain of:
I value teachers. Any time a public official demeans a teacher or minimizes their value or ridicules them for sticking up for their truth, everyone in the community is hurt.
I value teachers. This is a mess. The community is hurting. Much repair will be needed. There is still space for healing.
I value teachers. Even if the contract was fully met by our city, in my opinion, it wouldn’t be enough. I’m pretty sure no public school teacher in America is paid anywhere near an amount that matches the value I hold for teachers.
I value teachers. I do not want my child’s teacher to go back to work until they feel valued. I do not want anyone caring for or watching my child unless they feel valued.
I value teachers. I can forgive myself for believing it is my job to end this strike and that I need to figure this whole negotiation out for everyone. I trust that even though I don’t know how, I know we make it through this strike.
I value teachers. I can forgive myself for all the times I told myself I was not doing it right and not doing enough as a speech therapist in the schools or as a parent during a teacher strike.
I value teachers. I release all the times I told myself that I am responsible for protecting my child from feeling any form of disappointment. And I forgive myself for believing I am to blame for any “negative” emotion my child (or anyone else) may experience. We are all just living out a human experience and emotions come included as part of the deal.
I value teachers. I remind myself I am worthy just as I show up. I do not need to do anything more or take on more to be deserving. I can show up and provide care and support from a heart space, not an overgiving space.
I value teachers. I forgive myself for believing my work is not financially valuable and translating that as I am not valuable. That’s not true. And I forgive myself for believing I can only be valuable if other people deem it to be. That’s not true either.
I value teachers. I forgive myself for believing taking a break (from a strike or speech therapy) meant I was giving up. I can take rest and breaks and remember I will come back recharged and more in my center to face whatever is next in front of me. I can love and respect myself.
I value teachers. I can feel into my most true beliefs and remind myself, I do not need to convince anyone of my views to take meaningful, supportive and caring action from my heart space.
I value teachers and I see you. If you are a parent, I also see you. If you are both, I also see you. If you are neither, I see you too. I acknowledge that regardless of who we are, we all had teachers educate us at some point in our lives and help us in one way or another get to where we are today.
I love and value teachers so deeply. Just saying that is not enough. I can never say it enough. So, I will show up in support in any way I am called on any particular day and know that is enough. Today, I share my stories and uplift teachers’ voices as best I can.
If you are experiencing this teachers’ strike, or any teacher strike, what you are feeling is real even if you don’t agree with a single thing I shared. Everyone’s lived experience is their own and I offer my own experience as an opening to the strength and healing found in self-love work during challenging times like these.
My writing is often a reflection on the healing work I have done and am doing. And, I am also a certified life coach and healing practitioner offering Self-Love Coaching. The offering I give is one that I have received and learned across multiple modalities. My writings are also an opening for you to know me and my style. If you are interested in learning more about me and my Self-Love Coaching offering, please visit my website www.bethharmon.com. And, in case you need to hear it today: you are so loved and completely capable of loving yourself. And, I’m here to hold space for you to reconnect with that inner harmony.
By the way, I’m so glad you made it all the way here.
