Chicago teachers picket outside Marshall Metro High School on the West Side (Chip Mitchell)
I BEGAN teaching in 2006. My first jobs were at social service
agencies, contracting with Chicago Public Schools to provide preschool
on the cheap. These were non-union, very low benefits, very long working
hours, high staff-turnover jobs.
They were also jobs working with some of the poorest and
highest-needs kids in the city--kids with HIV, foster kids, kids with
histories of extreme abuse, kids with cognitive and physical
impairments.
This combination--kids with the greatest needs getting the
least-experienced and worst-compensated teachers--is of course, no
coincidence. This is education policy in the richest country on Earth.
One of the great contributions of the Chicago Teachers Union strike
of 2012 is that this realization about our public education system--and
how the education deformers are transforming teaching into a short term,
lower-skill, lower-wage job--is now being discussed not by a few
people, but by millions.
I started working in the Chicago Public Schools in January 2010. The
timing of this was significant. A month after starting my job, an
article in the Chicago Tribune identified the neighborhood where my school is located as having the second-highest home foreclosure rate in the city.
The impact of this social crisis is felt in our classrooms every
day--children whose families have lost their homes suffer profoundly,
and they bring this suffering with them to school.
This shows up in a thousand different ways, from minor behavior
problems resulting from anxiety to what can only be described as
depression. At work, we refer to them as the recession babies--children
born in the last five years to moms and dads who have been laid off,
lost their homes and who have all the so-called "personal" problems that
result from this kind of economic devastation.
Billionaire hedge fund managers or hotel heiresses take particular
glee in lecturing teachers for using poverty as an "excuse" to explain
away a "culture of failure" we've created through our ineptitude and
selfishness. It's interesting that responsibility for the greatest
economic downturn since the 1930s--a crisis created by bankers and
Corporate America's insatiable greed--isn't something they're willing to
embrace.
There is no cottage industry of well-funded think tanks lecturing
financiers regarding the culture of failure inside investment banks.
There are no politicians screaming for accountability and merit pay for
CEOs.
Instead of taking responsibility and preaching sacrifice for
themselves, they instead look for creative new ways to divert public
funds into their private coffers--through privatization schemes like
charter schools, through taxpayer-funded bailouts, through "job creation
incentives" (which rightfully should be called welfare for the
rich)--thus further robbing the public schools of the resources we so
desperately need.
Robbing the poor to pay the rich, and then having the nerve to blame
the poor and the people who teach them for the very conditions the rich
created--this is education policy in the richest country on Earth. The
Chicago Teachers Union strike, I believe, has made an important
contribution of pushing these crimes into the public spotlight as well.
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YESTERDAY AT school, we ran out of hand soap. We took the children to
the bathroom, and as they lined up to wash their hands, we realized our
pump soap was running out. My heart sank because I knew that I had no
more soap in my supply locker.
This is a small thing, a minor thing, but it's also a big thing. See,
we aren't provided soap in the bathrooms at our school. There isn't
room in the budget. We beg our parents to donate soap to us, or we buy
it out of our measly supply budget, or we pay for it out of pocket. It's
hard to explain, but these are the daily, petty failures that add up
over time.
The message becomes so clear: You and your students aren't worth it.
If nobody had soap--if there was a worldwide soap shortage--then it
wouldn't hurt. But it's obvious that some people's children will always
have clean hands, and so much more.
Some people's children will go to schools with seven full-time art
teachers; some children will go to school with none. Some children will
go to schools where student-to-teacher ratios are 9-to-1, and some
children will go to kindergarten with 42 5-year-old friends and one
teacher.
Some children will get world languages, social workers and
counselors, iPads and music class, libraries, recreational activities,
and beauty and joy. And some children simply will get tested, and tested
again and again, as they sit in cold classrooms all winter and stifling
classrooms during the spring and summer.
It's not hard to guess whose children get the things that make school
worthwhile and enriching, and whose children don't. Again, this is
education policy in the richest country on Earth. The greatest
contribution of this strike is highlighting for all to see this
injustice being perpetrated upon our children.
This strike alone couldn't solve this injustice, but by asserting
that all children deserve what Rahm Emanuel's and Penny Pritzker's
children get, we have contributed to the building of a movement that, in
no small measure, will be able to mobilize the kind of power necessary
to tackle these inequities.
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NOW I want to talk about that power.
When it became clear over the last year that members of the CTU
needed to prepare ourselves to strike, I was very nervous. In the
building where I work, there was plenty of built-up anger and
frustration, but most often, this was expressed through anxiety, people
blaming themselves--and sometimes parents and coworkers--and cynicism.
I had a hard time imagining how this could change. I didn't feel
powerful, but I was certainly aware of the power of the media and
politicians and billionaires who were out to get us. At our first
schoolwide parent meeting last year, our principal screened the
teacher-bashing propaganda film Waiting for "Superman" for our school community. Talk about feeling under siege.
So we started by wearing red on Fridays--that is, a few of us started
wearing red. I have to admit that in those first several weeks, I
didn't wear a union T-shirt--just a red shirt that I hoped would be seen
as just a coincidental fashion choice by my principal.
But then a few more started wearing red, and we had a couple
small-but-okay union meetings, and we started to talk to each other
about what was happening in our school system and in our school, and we
started to share articles taking on the lies of the school deformers,
and we began to get prepared.
It wasn't a smooth or exactly exciting process, but a necessary one.
Power--meaning our confidence to stand up for ourselves and our
students--was being built, teacher by teacher, conversation by
conversation, T-shirt by T-shirt.
But the real test of course, was the strike itself. Truth be told, I
hit the picket lines at 6:30 a.m. on day one of the strike exhilarated,
but also scared out of my mind. Would my coworkers and colleagues around
the system stand strong? Would I? Most importantly, would the rest of
Chicago stand with us?
About an hour into the picketing, most of my fears--as well as my
hearing--were gone. The honking from the passing cars--filled with
workers on their way to jobs, some of them scrambling to drop their kids
off at hastily arranged child care--was deafening.
Then the homemade tamales and boxes of doughnuts began arriving from
our parents. They stood with us. They stood with us because they knew we
were fighting to defend the right to a decent public education for
their kids. But more than that, they stood with us because we were
standing up to the same bullies that had caused so much misery for so
many for so long.
The outpouring of solidarity was matched by an outpouring of
creativity on the picket lines and at the mass protests every afternoon.
Teachers and staff who had long been stifled and forced to deliver rote
lessons designed solely for test preparation began to paint and dance
and sing their struggle.
Some of the teachers who had voiced the most reluctance about the
strike in my building became the most vocal and outspoken chanters on
the picket line. The imagination and the confidence unleashed during
this strike gives us a tiny glimpse of the power of human creativity
that can--and someday will--be utilized to transform our schools into
places of true learning and development.
Lastly, in this discussion of power, I have to mention the last two
days of the strike, when we went back to the picket line--despite
looming threat of an injunction and despite the ridicule from the
press--to talk and analyze and debate the tentative contract. These were
not exuberant or joyous discussions, but serious and thoughtful ones
that illuminated for this one-party city what real democracy in action
could look like.
Without this kind of democracy and ownership of our strike and its
results by the membership of this union, we would have little power. But
with it, we built the sort of knowledge, collectivity and consciousness
necessary for the next round of the fight.
And as we all know, round two is coming. And we must prepare and grow
stronger than we were in round one because their side is also drawing
lessons, planning and preparing.
Round two is shaping up to be the battle over school closures. Rumors
are swirling, but one thing is certain: CPS plans more closures and
turnarounds of "failing schools" than we've ever seen before. As we
enter into this next fight, it's more important than ever that we don't
lose sight of the significance of what we're fighting for.
On that note, let me quote from a letter the staff at my school sent home to our families when we returned from the strike:
We fought for the belief that all students can learn and deserve high
quality public education. We fought for the right to safe, healthy,
well-maintained school buildings. We fought for class size reduction
because the number of students per teacher does make a difference. We
fought to stop excessive student testing.
We fought for more social services that our students need. We fought
for equal investment and funding for all schools, for equality and
equity in education. We fought for an end of poverty and violence that
so many of our students struggle with every day. We also know that we
must continue to stay committed to the realization of these beliefs and
rights.