Just when you think you can't do it anymore, can't hack the (seriously) early mornings, the impossible, sometimes whiny, sometimes ludicrous demands, the line at the copier in the mornings, where you--still being fairly junior--carefully defend your turf-- there is a break. A week, nine days including weekends, and a stillness that's so unusual it feels odd. Your ears adjust to the quiet, embrace it; you hear the sound of falling rain, notice that somehow, while you've been working away, the seasons have changed. That's just how out of touch you are, with the world around you.
My dad used to struggle with 'transitions'; vacations were always hard for him, I think, because they were long (he's a college professor), and that meant spending more time than he would have liked without 'work' to do, without touching, somehow, that part of his identity. I've wondered sometimes if in this I'm my father's daughter, a workaholic, addicted to the predictability, the stability, the status, the self-righteousness, that having good work to do brings.
But, after a few vacations days, a few here, and a couple in a new city, I'm pretty sure I'm only a *sometimes* workaholic. I love when time slows to a crawl, when I can build whole days around a single meal, or activity, or call friends without having to make plans six weeks in advance. My rhythm changes when I'm on vacation, not in huge ways (I still go to bed around the same time, and wake up early, though not *so* early), but in the way I move from task to task, which becomes more organic, less tethered. My body even feels different...sort of...even, and steady. I always wonder how to take that feeling with me, back into the work week, but it doesn't travel well, it resists capture, it's beautiful, but fleeting.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
this job is fun
I've read a lot about teachers who burn out after year five (or before), attempts to keep them in the profession, to make the job more sustainable, etc. Some weeks, especially in the spring months, I think I'm *burnt* out, not just in the process, but toasted, basically.
We've been interviewing candidates for the new principal position at South (though 'interviewing' isn't the right word; we ask questions, the candidate answers, and we, the faculty, fill out feedback forms. I'm not really clear on who makes the final decision, or how). And my favorite candidate, a guy who's been the principal at one of the only exam schools in Boston, said something that surprised and impressed me. "Schools are fun places," he said, with an emphasis on the word 'fun' and an easy smile. He meant it. No matter how crazy/hectic/impossible/frustrating/maddening things get, it's still, you know, *fun*.
So I've been trying to look for the things that make me laugh in every day. Sometimes it's something as simple as a look or a laugh from a kid...other days it's something a colleague writes on a white board, filling up with comments (both tongue-in-cheek and not). The fun will keep the job sustainable.
And, more seriously, sometimes the job is more fun than some other parts of my life, which tend to wound and cut in ways that I wish they didn't. With kids I feel relaxed and easy; they can laugh at themselves, and I don't have to put up walls to protect myself, because they're just not difficult that way. They may be tired, or cranky, or reluctant, or sad, but they are such troopers...they come every day, they work (even hard sometimes), they go home, sleep a little, and do it all over again. I admire them so much.
We've been interviewing candidates for the new principal position at South (though 'interviewing' isn't the right word; we ask questions, the candidate answers, and we, the faculty, fill out feedback forms. I'm not really clear on who makes the final decision, or how). And my favorite candidate, a guy who's been the principal at one of the only exam schools in Boston, said something that surprised and impressed me. "Schools are fun places," he said, with an emphasis on the word 'fun' and an easy smile. He meant it. No matter how crazy/hectic/impossible/frustrating/maddening things get, it's still, you know, *fun*.
So I've been trying to look for the things that make me laugh in every day. Sometimes it's something as simple as a look or a laugh from a kid...other days it's something a colleague writes on a white board, filling up with comments (both tongue-in-cheek and not). The fun will keep the job sustainable.
And, more seriously, sometimes the job is more fun than some other parts of my life, which tend to wound and cut in ways that I wish they didn't. With kids I feel relaxed and easy; they can laugh at themselves, and I don't have to put up walls to protect myself, because they're just not difficult that way. They may be tired, or cranky, or reluctant, or sad, but they are such troopers...they come every day, they work (even hard sometimes), they go home, sleep a little, and do it all over again. I admire them so much.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
A more perfect union
I've been busy this winter, so haven't had a chance to write much, which is to say, I've been writing, just not blogging. I'm still trying to figure out what writing belongs here, in a more public forum, and what belongs elsewhere. This blog is ostensibly about school, so...I'll (more or less) stick to that.
One of the things that I've been thinking about this winter (as the economy continues to falter/fail, and people collectively, and in the best spirits they can muster, tighten their belts), is our responsibility to each other in times of crisis. Does it increase, because we're all going through the same, collective difficulty? Or are people justified in wanting to keep more of what they have for themselves, because they're afraid that if they don't, they might regret it later.
No where was this question/conflict more evident at our most recent union meeting. Several hundred people from the districts' elementary, middle, and high schools gathered in a closed door meeting in an elementary school gymnasium...and it quickly felt like a war room. How would we do battle with the city this contract negotiation year?
I should say that I know I'm lucky to work in a district with a union. In VA, where I grew up, there are no teachers' unions, and I suspect this is the case throughout the south, where organized labor never really caught on as a trenchant cause. I should also say that I don't have a choice about being in my union: our membership dues are required, and are pretty high. My grandparents, and great grandparents were union types, and I've heard that they were heroic in their actions, and words.
I had a hard time, though, at this meeting. The list of proposed 'non-negotiables' the union folks presented included: retention of control over health care (the % we pay/year), continuing the step system, contracts for temp workers (maybe?) continuation of the COL increase (cost of living). (So, essentially: nothing changes). When someone asked if the city would be able to afford to keep things 'as is', no one knew the answer. That's a HUGE problem, and made me feel like my negotiators purposefully hadn't done their homework (you know, the thing I'm paying huge dues for them to do).
Instead, people spoke of the necessity to preserve the salaries for the highest earners (people nearing retirement), whose penions might shrink if we agreed to a wage freeze. There were raucous cheers when someone sugegsted that whatever we agree to now, when the recession ends, we'll be stuck with until the next contract. Only a few (who, importantly, were among the older teachers there) said what was needful: that everyone was hurting, and that the best thing we could do would be to spread resources as intelligently as possible to prevent lay offs. There were fewer, and far more subdued, cheers, after these speakers.
Some people in this town already think teachers are essentially layabouts, who clock in and clock out, whose performance is really never evaluated, who keep family friendly hours, and who spend summers vacationing. They're, of course, totally misguided: I invite them to spend a day in my life, which includes rising before dawn, returning at dusk, and grading LOTS of papers. But in some ways, I understand why people might be under this misapprehension. While lawyers or doctors are 'successful' if they win cases or cure patients, teachers are successful if they...do what exactly? Their success may be palpable, but it's hard to measure, and rarely measured publicly. In what other job, as Bill Gates noted recently, does your supervisor have to ask you in advance if you can be observed or evaluated? In what other job does your union negotiate the terms of that evaluation?
The union meeting wound down. The second to last speaker made an empassioned plea: "we deserved" better, we work so hard, etc. All true. She also said that if this meant that some poeple would lose their jobs during the recession ("there's *always* a recession," she said) that this was probably be 'for the best', for the union as a whole. In other words, in spite of mandatory membership, the union is actually only for some of its members: the ones with tenure, not its newest recruits. You know. The ones who earn less money.
But it was the last speaker who stole the show, as far as I'm concerned. She was a social worker, a single mom, who had worked for the district for twelve years, and was recently laid off. She said she was a "huge lefty" but that after the trauma of being laid off, she really didn't want anyone else to go through that particular hell. She suggested that we do whatever we can to save jobs.
We teachers talk about not wanting to be treated like factory workers, but like the professionals we are, some of us with multiple degrees from ivy leage universities, and yet, we agree to a system better suited to garment workers (who, by the way, desperately need it). We've really outgrown the union we have, and we need a better, more perfect one, to help us meet the goals which we'll--undoubtedly--be asked to meet. The ones we should *want* to meet. The ones I want to meet.
One of the things that I've been thinking about this winter (as the economy continues to falter/fail, and people collectively, and in the best spirits they can muster, tighten their belts), is our responsibility to each other in times of crisis. Does it increase, because we're all going through the same, collective difficulty? Or are people justified in wanting to keep more of what they have for themselves, because they're afraid that if they don't, they might regret it later.
No where was this question/conflict more evident at our most recent union meeting. Several hundred people from the districts' elementary, middle, and high schools gathered in a closed door meeting in an elementary school gymnasium...and it quickly felt like a war room. How would we do battle with the city this contract negotiation year?
I should say that I know I'm lucky to work in a district with a union. In VA, where I grew up, there are no teachers' unions, and I suspect this is the case throughout the south, where organized labor never really caught on as a trenchant cause. I should also say that I don't have a choice about being in my union: our membership dues are required, and are pretty high. My grandparents, and great grandparents were union types, and I've heard that they were heroic in their actions, and words.
I had a hard time, though, at this meeting. The list of proposed 'non-negotiables' the union folks presented included: retention of control over health care (the % we pay/year), continuing the step system, contracts for temp workers (maybe?) continuation of the COL increase (cost of living). (So, essentially: nothing changes). When someone asked if the city would be able to afford to keep things 'as is', no one knew the answer. That's a HUGE problem, and made me feel like my negotiators purposefully hadn't done their homework (you know, the thing I'm paying huge dues for them to do).
Instead, people spoke of the necessity to preserve the salaries for the highest earners (people nearing retirement), whose penions might shrink if we agreed to a wage freeze. There were raucous cheers when someone sugegsted that whatever we agree to now, when the recession ends, we'll be stuck with until the next contract. Only a few (who, importantly, were among the older teachers there) said what was needful: that everyone was hurting, and that the best thing we could do would be to spread resources as intelligently as possible to prevent lay offs. There were fewer, and far more subdued, cheers, after these speakers.
Some people in this town already think teachers are essentially layabouts, who clock in and clock out, whose performance is really never evaluated, who keep family friendly hours, and who spend summers vacationing. They're, of course, totally misguided: I invite them to spend a day in my life, which includes rising before dawn, returning at dusk, and grading LOTS of papers. But in some ways, I understand why people might be under this misapprehension. While lawyers or doctors are 'successful' if they win cases or cure patients, teachers are successful if they...do what exactly? Their success may be palpable, but it's hard to measure, and rarely measured publicly. In what other job, as Bill Gates noted recently, does your supervisor have to ask you in advance if you can be observed or evaluated? In what other job does your union negotiate the terms of that evaluation?
The union meeting wound down. The second to last speaker made an empassioned plea: "we deserved" better, we work so hard, etc. All true. She also said that if this meant that some poeple would lose their jobs during the recession ("there's *always* a recession," she said) that this was probably be 'for the best', for the union as a whole. In other words, in spite of mandatory membership, the union is actually only for some of its members: the ones with tenure, not its newest recruits. You know. The ones who earn less money.
But it was the last speaker who stole the show, as far as I'm concerned. She was a social worker, a single mom, who had worked for the district for twelve years, and was recently laid off. She said she was a "huge lefty" but that after the trauma of being laid off, she really didn't want anyone else to go through that particular hell. She suggested that we do whatever we can to save jobs.
We teachers talk about not wanting to be treated like factory workers, but like the professionals we are, some of us with multiple degrees from ivy leage universities, and yet, we agree to a system better suited to garment workers (who, by the way, desperately need it). We've really outgrown the union we have, and we need a better, more perfect one, to help us meet the goals which we'll--undoubtedly--be asked to meet. The ones we should *want* to meet. The ones I want to meet.
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