Delayed Gratification

N.B. This essay is dedicated to Renée Hoskin-Schiber.*

Fearless Readers, after a long and painful slog, another academic year draws to a close for Chicago Public Schools and for your intrepid urban educator.  Of course, the rest of the country has been out of school for going on two or more weeks by now, but ole Mayor Grinch** wants us, students and teachers alike, to carry on beavering away at making quality education a reality for the youth of the Second City.  And so we remain, awaiting the end of a particularly soul-sucking 2012-13 academic year at my school.

But, what I really want to talk about now is what keeps us teachers going nowadays.   The public school system in this country has been under attack, in the dubious name of ‘reform’, for quite some time.  In Chicago it’s more like being under siege.  And, of course, it’s the teachers – the infantry grunts – who bear the brunt. Meanwhile, about all the politicos and pundits and just plain pests can agree on is that it’s all the teachers’ fault.  It’s those reform-resistant, union toadies who are failing our students. (It’s gotten so ubiquitous, this teacher-bashing, that it deserves a name:  Historian that I am, I propose theTeacher Scare.  Sort of like the Red Scares of the 19-teens and 1950s.  As in, “Are you now, or have you ever been, a Public School Teacher?”  But I digress.)  Point is, why do we stick to the job in the face of all the ill use at the hands of everyone from the President on down to my own principal?      

Talking to colleagues throughout the years as well as myself (yes, I do talk to myself – something wrong with that?), I have a pretty good idea of why teachers teach.  In Chicago, thankfully, public school teachers earn a decent, if not extravagant living wage, unlike lots of places in this county, not to mention pretty much the entire Southern Hemisphere.    But nobody in their right mind goes into teaching for the money – it’s simply not enough to compensate for the turd balls thrown at us every day, mostly from our own admin.  No, we teachers teach because we love to teach.  Yes, we do get a few really cool side benefits with the job, chief among which is summer break, that one glorious perk almost all teachers enjoy.  But mainly we are among those who follow a calling, rather than a career.  And the Calling has its own perks.  For instance, we on occasion get to enjoy that particular shot of pure joy that most teachers experience when a student’s eyes suddenly light up with enlightenment and understanding.  Those and other similar moments with our students are like fuel for teachers; they keep us going for days afterwards.  But the real reason we follow the Calling, and our primary source of fulfillment, boils down to one thing.  The Future.

Right, cliché of all clichés.  Our children, our future, blah blah blah.  So let’s make it more real and less Hallmark.  OUR children.  By which I mean MY children.  By which I mean the students who I spend my days with in the classroom every week.  Most days I could give a rat’s ass if AMERICA is falling behind the Chinese in Math, or that Finnish kids can ace a basic US Geography quiz that most adults here wouldn’t even pass.  My focus?  Will Jorge get his 4^th grade reading level up enough in his four years at my high school to be able to survive when he leaves?  Will bright, young Amanda manage to avoid getting knocked up by some boy (emphasis on ‘boy’) before she escapes the hood and gets safely away to college?  It’s hard to get too exercised about the potential impact our latest educational crisis might have on future US global competitiveness when so much is stacked against my students.  How relevant is keeping ahead of Japan when dodging rival street gangs on the way to school is their daily reality?  

So we teachers, urban or rural or suburban, are the world’s champions at delayed gratification.  Particularly in a public climate that lately has been so poisonous against us, we have to wait quite a while in order to reap the rewards of our calling.      Anyway, back to reaping rewards.  Once in a while, randomly at the grocery store, or at report card pick-up or some other school function, a former student will seek you out and, in the course of catching up and such, let drop that you, their 10^th grade US History (or Art, or Math) teacher, somehow, in some small way, ever so slightly changed their lives for the better.  It rarely has to do with actual academics.  It’s more like, “Mr. Peabody, I was such a shit in your classroom as a sophomore, but that didn’t stop you from treating me fairly.  I learned something from that.”  Or, “Ms. Ashley, I can’t hardly remember a damned thing about Calculus, but the way you always tried to explain things in interesting ways that we could all understand taught me something.” 

These seemingly small moments are our life support system as teachers. I walk away feeling a warm glow that lingers for weeks.  One such encounter gives me the energy and motivation to soldier on, knowing that the work I do has – or will have – a lasting and meaningful impact on the lives of at least some of my charges. 

Last weekend, I was fortunate enough to meet with over a dozen former students and find out how they are doing.  I held a small reunion party at my house for students who had been on my debate team back when I was coach.  One of my debaters, just about to graduate college, had texted me out of the blue a few months ago, which led to a meal with three of my former charges, all of whom wanted to let me know how they were doing and how important they saw my own influence in their success (which was good for a couple of months renewed inspiration!).  This, in turn, led to a larger gathering at my place on a lovely Sunday afternoon, complete with burgers, dogs, brats, and fixins.  And 16 young folk with whom I had spent countless invigorating hours over my years as a coach.  These bright young people had spent time with me in twice-weekly afterschool practices, at pre-tournament Saturday practices, at winter and spring break practices at my house, during Saturday debate workshops, and, of course, competing in a half dozen or more marathon weekend debate tournaments per year.  Of necessity, we all became quite a close-knit band, all watching each others backs, and sharing in triumphs and trials alike.  The fact that they were eager to spend another few hours together and with their old coach, years after graduation, was deeply gratifying for me, but not surprising.  These were, after-all, MY kids.

I always maintained that the job of debate coach, although arduous and mostly unpaid, allowed me the privilege of hanging out with the funnest kids in the school.  This past Sunday proved the truth of that even after they have long since graduated.

Even more gratifying was to learn through the course of the afternoon that all of my kids are doing well. Most are either still at university or have graduated and started on a career.  One of my girls just had a brand new graduate assistantship position created just for her – involving the teaching of public speaking.  Another graduated a year ago and has embarked on a career in advertising.  A third has just graduated from an elite West Coast private college where she spent considerable time studying abroad in Asia as part of her degree program.  Yet another has girl more year left at UIC, where she has been involved in a myriad of organizations and causes.  Others, who have not followed the collegiate path (yet – I still hold out hope!) are pursuing training as chefs, are retail sales managers, are working as trainers for restaurant personnel.  One of my team captains stumbled accidentally into a career as a personal banker when a bank manager noticed her and was impressed by her intelligence and comportment.  She’ll soon be making more than I do!  College or not, all of my young folk are embarked on building what promise to be fruitful lives.

As my crew was wrapping up the party – some three happy hours after I had anticipated it winding down – I told them how proud they had made me, all grown up and productive and responsible young men and women.  When I was debate coach, I was famous for my impromptu, often teary end-of-season inspirational speeches delivered on that last, late-night bus ride home from the City Championship tournament.  This was no exception; indeed, I would have disappointed if I hadn’t delivered my requisite pep talk.  On this occasion, however, they interrupted my speech, because they had their own message for me.  They told me that, like it or not, I was in large part responsible for their various successes. 

For once I did not mind being interrupted by my students.

So, in a nation rampant self-entitlement and instant gratification, we teachers bide our time, patiently, for the seeds we sow to sprout, take root, and flourish.  Our reward, when it comes, tastes all the sweeter for the wait.  

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* Renée is a 25-year veteran teacher from downstate Illinois.  In her 13 years of service at Collinsville High School, a school she describes as 'working class' and 'hardscrabble,' her AP English students scored 20% above the national average.  She also wrote a grant to add technology -- such as a Smart Board -- to her classroom.  She is that sort of teacher.  Renée  ran into trouble with her administration when she failed to get the message to change the grade for the Assistant Superintendant's daughter; the following year it was the child of a School Board member.  Finally at the end of this year she was forced into retirement to as punishment for her professionalism and integrity.  

** I have decided that Mayor 'He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named' is rather unwieldily, and the acronym HWSNBN is simply impenetrable.  Plus, well, just look at the original Dr Seuss cartoon and compare that to a picture of the mayor of Chicago.  

The Other Presidential Race Part I

I am going to be honest here.  I have been in avoidance as far as this election season is concerned.  I didn’t even watch the debates, something I usually force myself to do.  From what I’ve gathered, I didn’t miss much.  I also generally avoid campaign news and such in order not to go positively mental.  Were I to subject myself to all of that, my outrage indicator dial would push red and then shatter with glass shard shrapnel flying in all directions.  I just can’t stand to witness the Republicans lying outright to the American people with impunity; the lame-stream media seems to have altogether forgotten its watchdog role.  Because the Repubs do lie, and blatantly so, about the budget, health care, the state of the economy (and who is to blame for it), who saved the auto industry, and what kind of underwear Mittens wears – boxers or briefs?  (Answer: neither.  He wears the Temple Garment, otherwise known as Mormon Undies).* 

Temple Garments

I also, just to be properly balanced about it, can’t stand to see the lameness of the Democratic response to this barrage of mendacity.  Our Democrat in Chief himself seemed to set the tone early on by studiously ignoring even the biggest of whoppers amongst the Repubs wide repertoire of fish stories.  He's only recently deigned to notice.

So, I am perhaps not the one to go to for anything approaching a knowledgeable analysis of the campaign.  The very fact that the polls at this point are statistically tied makes me woozy. 

I can, however, offer up a historical perspective on an aspect of American politics – especially Presidential elections – that I have been thinking about of late.  Since the Conventions, in fact (two more of my studiously ignored campaign events).  I am talking about racism.  It has been on my mind since the shenanigans inside and around the Republican Convention where we witnessed racist white crackers pelting a black camerawoman with peanuts.  (Like in the zoo. Get it? Never mind).  This happened on a convention floor – and rostrum – otherwise almost entirely bereft of any color save for Wonder Bread white.  Meanwhile, another white racist Republican, this time an older woman, told an NPR reporter that Michelle Obama simply didn’t look like a First Lady.  (More on these antics later).  Now, I am certainly not asserting that all Republicans are racist – there are still a few old-school, socially progressive conservatives around.  But the incidents just cited are merely two of the many blatantly racist anti-Obama demonstrations we have witnessed of late.  Worse, however, are the subtler, hard to point the finger at, systemic forms of racism and prejudice that abides in the Republican Party. 

I refer here to such ‘coded’ messages as the Romney ad that ran extensively a while back (and, for all I know from deep in my bunker, may still be running), which claimed that Obama had ‘quietly’ dropped work requirements that were the cornerstone of welfare reform. “Under Obama's plan, you wouldn't have to work…. They just send you your welfare check.”  There are two aspects of this ad that a supposedly free, independent and critical press should have jumped all over.

1) It’s wrong.  As in, liar-liar-pants-on-fire wrong.  As in didn’t happen at all.  All of the independent fact checkers called them on this, though you wouldn’t have known it by watching what passes for news media here in America.  Aljazeera covered it, but not CNN.

2) It’s racist.  Attacking welfare so gratuitously is code for attacking minorities, especially African Americans, without actually being upfront about it; open racism is out of fashion these days.  Mostly.  (See above peanut tossing incident).  

Tricky Dick enlisting Elvis in his War on Drugs, part of the War on Crime

Ever since the 1970’s, welfare has been a convenient stand-in anytime a Republican wanted to say to voters, “Hey, I’m white like you and we both want to keep the damned niggers in place, so vote for me” without actually saying it.  This was what Saint Ronald was doing when he denigrated ‘welfare queens’ during his 1980 campaign against Jimmy Carter, for instance. 

Welfare isn’t the only, or even the most common example of ‘dog-whistle’ politics.  Perhaps the most widely used meme is ‘Crime.’  Barry Goldwater ran as a ‘Law and Order’ candidate in 1964, and Richard Nixon was quick to jump on that bandwagon.  Tricky Dick ran ads in 1968 warning of a ‘wave of crime’ that threatened to overwhelm ‘decent and law-abiding’ Americans, vowing to ‘take the offensive against the criminal forces’ in the country.  Just what do you think most racist Americans picture when someone yells “Criminal!”?  George Herbert Walker Bush (# 41, if you’re keeping track) also famously baited the hapless Michael Dukakis by howling about the Massachusetts prison furlough program with the ‘Willie Horton’ ad, implying that he, Bush 43, would keep a lid on prisoners.  And by ‘prisoners,’ his campaign really meant, ‘blacks.’  Because, don’t forget that blacks and other minorities have long been disproportionately represented in our nation’s burgeoning prison population. ‡      

John & Cindy with daughter Bridget

And then there is race and sex.  Karl Rove, the éminence grise behind George W Bush”s campaigns (that’s #43, if you’re still keeping count), even turned it against a fellow Republican when he spread rumors in South Carolina against John McCain in 2000.  In this iteration, McCain was guilty of the racial crime of miscegenation by supposedly having fathered a black love child.  In fact, these smears were referring to Bridget, the Bangladeshi girl that John and Cindy had adopted.  Nevertheless, McCain lost that crucial primary and eventually bowed out of the 2008 race.  Ironically, it was an ancient racist southern Republican, once a racist southern Democrat, Strom Thurmond (more of whom below) who truly takes the racial hypocrisy prize: after his death in 2003 it was discovered that he had begot a child with a black maid way back in 1925.§

The present campaign has seen the ‘birther’ loons propagating what is in essence a racist idea: that there is something so terribly wrong about an African-American like Obama becoming President that he must not even be a citizen.  The 2008 campaign also abounded with sub-rosa racism, much of it cheerfully pandered by McCain’s VP choice, Sarah Palin.  According to the governor from up north, Obama was “palling around with terrorists” (presumably Arabs) and didn’t “see America like you and I do” (because he clearly isn’t a real American.  Exhibit one: he’s not white).

Need I say more?

And the recounting so far does not even include actual, substantive Republican policies and actions that are racist, such as their nation-wide campaign to disfranchise minority voters with ‘Voter ID’ laws that purport to address supposedly rampant election fraud but in fact are a thinly disguised initiative to intimidate and disfranchise minorities.  However, in spite of diligent searching under rugs and beds and behind curtains, the GOP has uncovered exactly zero credible instances of Democratic voter fraud.  In fact, this phantom fraud simply doesn’t exist.  Except that it does.  As when a voter registration contractor named Colin Small, hired by the Virginia Republican Party, was arrested by state investigators for perpetrating voter fraud after he was caught tossing completed registration forms in the trash (the Republican Attorney General declined to prosecute.  Surprise.).   Or when at least 133 Democrats in Riverside County, California found that they had been mysteriously and fraudulently registered as Republicans by a GOP registration committee called the Golden State Voter Participation Project.  

But wait, some clever and historically-minded Fearless Reader might interject, this doesn’t make sense!  Isn’t the GOP the party of Lincoln and emancipation and freedom and civil rights for black Americans?

It was, once upon a time.  In fact, both southern and northern blacks used to vote for the GOP.  Martin Luther King’s own father voted Republican until 1960.  Most of the few southern blacks who were allowed to vote before 1964 had voted Republican all their lives for the very reason that it was the party of Lincoln that had won the Civil war and emancipated the slaves.  For a while afterward the Republican Party enforced the civil and political rights of southern blacks; they even battled the Klu Klux Klan.  Until, in 1876, they didn’t, and then mostly sat on the sidelines as Jim Crow took firm hold after about 1890. 

Strom filibustering in 1957

One result of the post-war Republican assault on white pride and power was that the Democratic Party, the party of blatant racism and white supremacy, was able to establish a virtual political monopoly in the South for nearly 100 years.  It was called the ‘Solid South’ until the early 1970s.  White southerners proudly called themselves ‘Yellow Dog Democrats,’ meaning that they would vote for a yellow dog before they would vote Republican (a white, Jewish photo store owner I worked for in Austin Texas one summer boasted such to me as late as the early ‘90s).  Southern Democratic senators proved especially adept at foiling Republican-sponsored civil rights legislation through the filibuster (the real kind, where guys actually got up and talked forever).  Strom Thurmond still holds the record for the longest solo filibuster when he spent over 24 hours single-handedly sending a 1957 voting rights bill straight into the ash bin of history.  They even filibustered or otherwise derailed anti-lynching bills in 1894, 1918, 1922, 1933 (FDR wimped out on that one), and in 1948 (a bill actively supported by President Truman).

So, what caused blacks to abandon the Republican Party and southern whites (and some northern racists) to embrace it?  Why this dramatic 180 degree switch?  How, you ask, did the Democratic Party recast itself as the party of Civil rights? 

The real questions should be Who and Why.  As for the Who, I blame Eleanor, Harry and Lyndon.  As to the Why, I believe that these and other Democrats discovered justice and common decency and decided those were the winning cards in the long run.  The first steps were baby ones, but the transformation gathered speed and momentum and was completed in the space of about 20 years, give or take half a decade at either end.

N.B.  This was so long that I had to split it up.  Part II can be found immediately below.

 ___________________________________

* Please do not work yourself into a lather about cheap shots at Mormonism.  I assure you that I’m an equal opportunity cheap shooter at all organized religion.  Stick around long enough and I’ll likely dis both Catholics and Protestants and disparage elements of Islam and even Judaism (the three crazed ‘desert religions’ we seem to be saddled with).  I can also work up a rant about the onerous Hindu caste system, just to include an Asian religion; I confess, however, that it’s hard to find anything very wrong with Buddhism, though I could try just to be fair.
    Also, yes, of course Democrats lie too.  They are regularly caught stretching, bending and breaking the truth.  However, generally it is individual pols, not the entire party.  Only the Repubs can muster such lock-step lying. 

‡ We lead the world in our incarceration rate (“We’re Number One!”  rah rah).  The only country even close is Russia; Canada, Europe and even China are way behind us in this grim statistic.  And, while a mere 0.7% of white men are imprisoned, 5% of black men and 2% of Hispanic men languish in the American prison system.  Don’t even get me started on the death penalty and rates of exectution…

§ Ole Strom set a record for length of time in the Senate (48 years) – and died in 2003 at the age of 101.  The family subsequently acknowledged his illegitimate, miscegenated daughter and she has since gained membership in the DAR as well as the United Daughters of the Confederacy based on her Thurmond parentage.  Oh, the delicious irony…

The Other Presidential Race Part II

Our Heroes

Anna Eleanor Roosevelt

Eleanor’s husband Franklin Delano had been elected in 1932 after cobbling together a grand coalition of northern city political machines, labor unions and workers, ethnic minorities and southern whites.  While FDR had to keep this fractious bloc together, Eleanor felt no such compunction.  And she could do what she wanted, since she had Franklin’s gonads in a pickle jar on her dresser after catching him philandering one too many times.*  So Eleanor, touring the country and visiting poor folk, discovered just how vicious and pernicious southern racism was, and took up the cause of civil rights.  It was Eleanor who in 1939 pitched a righteous fit when the Daughters of the American Revolution refused to open up Constitution Hall for a concert by the great African American contralto Marion Anderson.  Eleanor promptly and publicly resigned as a member in good standing of the DAR and got Franklin to make the Lincoln Memorial available so that Anderson could stand on its steps and sing to an audience 75,000 Americans, not to mention the millions who turned in to the live radio broadcast.  It was a moment.  In fact it was a moment in the civil rights struggle not to be equaled until MLK stood on those same steps and sang his own songs some 25 later.

Marion Anderson and Eleanor's letter of resignation from the DAR

The Marion Anderson concert was merely the most public example of Eleanor’s many, mostly behind-the-scenes, acts to further the cause of racial justice in America. 

Chicago Defender headline (top) heralding 
Truman's desegregation of the US military (bottom)

Harry S. Truman‡

Next comes Harry. Hapless machine-hack senator from the former slave state of Missouri, after-thought of a Vice President, and accidental President after FDR died suddenly during his abbreviated fourth and last term in office.  HST took over the presidency in April of 1945, on the eve of the final Gotterdammerung of Nazi Germany, while the war against the Japanese was still raging, apparently without end, and with horrendous casualties on both side before he made the lonely decision to use the new atomic bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August of that year.  He was widely derided at the time as an empty suit, usually by people who later had to eat crow and admit that Harry was wilier and deeper than he seemed.  I include Truman primarily for one act – one Presidential fiat – that forever enshrines him as a courageous champion of American freedom and justice.  In July of 1948, in the midst of his campaign for reelection, HST issued executive order 9981 which, with the stroke of a pen, desegregated the US Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marines.  Years later he explained his reasons: "My forebears were Confederates ... but my very stomach turned over when I had heard that Negro soldiers, just back from overseas, were being dumped out of army trucks in Mississippi and beaten."  If any institution represents America – and all Americans – it is the US Army and its sister branches.  Though Truman took several other important steps to promote equality, this one act of decency and justice would have tectonic repercussions.

Lyndon Baines Johnson

Finally, Lyndon.  Lyndon Johnson of the meteoric, rocky, rough-and-tumble rise in politics.  LBJ, the poor boy from the Texas Hill Country who idolized FDR and who climbed over dozens of senior colleagues to be King of the Senate and a leading candidate for President in 1960 – only to humbly accept the number two spot from a rich, entitled upstart of a brat from Massachusetts named John Fitzgerald Kennedy.  This was not something Johnson wanted or cherished.  In fact, he privately echoed the famous quote of a friend, in assessing the job of Vice President:  “Not worth a bucket of warm spit.”  Still, he gamely did what the despised and feared Kennedys (JFK and his brother RFK)§ told him to do, which was primarily going to funerals and visiting god-forsaken corners of the world where no other politician would be caught dead in.  He thought his career was over.  Then came November 22, 1963, and a place called Dealey Plaza in Dallas in his own home state of Texas.  It was there that he became another accidental President when his boss and sometime nemesis was brought down by an assassin’s bullet two cars ahead of him.  It was not the way LBJ wanted to become President, but nevertheless he was sworn in on Air Force One within a couple of hours and was saddled with the Kennedy legacy of mostly unfulfilled initiatives, including civil rights.  Johnson, a southern Democrat, made the civil rights cause his cause, expanding on JFK’s legislative program and presideding over the most fruitful period of civil rights legislation since the Civil War.  Lyndon Baines Johnson cajoled, bullied and defied his former Senate and House colleagues, including those from the south, to vote for or at least stay out of the way of a raft of legislation, including: the 1964 Civil Rights Act (which he muscled past a 54-day Democratic filibuster); the 1964 24^th Amendment to the Constitution banning the poll tax; the Voting Rights Act of 1965.  In a 1965 address to a joint session of Congress, this profane, deal-making, arm-twisting master of the legislative process, this son of the South in his Texas drawl echoed the words of the civil rights anthem:  “We shall overcome.”  In private, however, he predicted that "We have lost the South for a generation."  He was right.  Today, some two generations later, it is hard for any Democrat to get elected south of the Mason Dixon Line.

Georgia Senator Richard Russel getting the 'Johnson Treatment' during the civil rights battles

The Republican Party lost no time in stepping in to fill the vacuum, and they’ve been the party of Racism ever since.

_________________________________

* I am, of course, speaking figuratively.  She didn’t really have his actual gonads in an actual pickle jar on her actual dresser.  She did, however, tell his mom, and threatened divorce.  Mother-in-law was, apparently, something of a battle ax and threatened to disinherit Franklin if he didn’t make nice to Eleanor.  So Eleanor had some leeway in that marriage.

‡ The initial S stands for…’S’.

§ What ever happened to initialed Presidents, anyway?  JFK, LBJ, RFK (almost), RMN and all those guys.  Okay, we did have ‘W’, but that lonely initial hardly counts…

I'm Sticking with the Union!

Strike Update

Well, as my Fearless Readers undoubtedly know, unless you’re just back from Siberia, the threatened Chicago Teachers’ Union (CTU) strike became reality as of Monday morning.  It’s the first Chicago teachers’ strike in 25 years, and my first ever.  Thus far, four days into the strike, I am advisedly hopeful, confident in my union’s leadership and especially the three dynamic union reps and delegates at my school.  Jerry, Eric and Jaime have proven to be indefatigable leaders – with Jerry and Eric combining participation in exhausting and frustrating negotiation sessions with inspiring the troops, while Jaime is point-woman for organizing and managing the strike activities at our school, doing everything from being the coordinator of our strike team captains and setting up our pickets at 6:30 am, to supplying us with signs, union garb, donuts & coffee, and generally keeping us enthusiastic. 

I have discovered that, far from being a semi-break from work, being on strike is at least a full-time job if you’re doing it right.  Here is how my days have looked like thus far:

• At my school (or another school that needs support) for four hours’ of picketing starting at 6:30 in the morning.
• Usually a break in the middle of the day for a couple of hours.  I have mostly spent the time grabbing a quick lunch, uploading my pics from the morning, and editing my on-line photo journal. (See my Chicago Teachers' Strike Photo Journal)
• Some sort of afternoon rally, starting at about 2:30 or 3:30 – from which I generally get home by about 6:00 or so.  There have been three downtown, and one at a representative high school in my area (there were three of these rallies on Wednesday).  Tomorrow I look forward to a neighborhood rally at Logan Square, with its soaring column commemorating the GAR,* sponsored by the Logan Square Neighborhood Association (LSNA). 
• My evenings have been spent uploading the rest of my pics that day, updating my album, and sending emails to friends and family.  I try to get to bed by 10:00 or so, with that 5:00 alarm looming; alas, more often than not, I have been too keyed up to get to sleep easily.  In consequence, I am often running on caffeine and the contagious enthusiasm that prevails on the line.
• There will also be a mass rally this Saturday downtown.  Come join us! 

Group Photo at my school after the first day's picketing

ON THE PICKET LINE

Picketing at my school and in the surrounding neighborhood has given me renewed respect and fondness for my fellow teachers in general, and a somewhat surprising and entirely gratifying regard for the residents – including parents – of the neighborhood.  The generous and spontaneous support and, yes, love, that we have received from these hard-working, often struggling, poor members of the community has made my eyes misty, and my heart achy.  The cars driving by the little intersection at my school these past week have mostly honked in support, sometimes quite enthusiastically.  You glimpse Hispanic moms and dads and working stiffs in these cars smiling and waving or giving us the thumbs-up and your heart swells.  We have had local ladies bring us water and home-made cookies – how great is that?!  And these are people who are sometimes being put out by our walkout, struggling to find daycare or begging more babysitting time from grandparents, uncles, aunts.  Furthermore, quite a few of our more diligent and hard-working students are showing up to march alongside their teachers.  Warms the cockles of my heart…

In contrast, a friend and former colleague who now teaches at a magnet high school just north of downtown, in a pretty tony neighborhood, reports that at best half the cars passing his picket show support.  Moreover, the fancier the car, the more likely the occupants will demonstrate outright hostility to the strike.  These are folks who almost certainly send their kids to parochial or private schools and, in any case, can easily afford daycare if the need arises.  Makes me seriously reconsider my periodic thoughts of applying for a job at one of these schools; give me my struggling Hispanic and Black parents, and their kids, any day. 

The other, immensely gratifying source of support on the picket line or when we march up and down busy Fullerton Avenue comes from two groups.  Firstly, fellow union workers, especially those who work for the city.  We get lots of love and often really loud honks (and sirens) from city buses, Streets and Sanitation vehicles, Fire Department trucks and ambulances, and, best of all, cops.  These people – especially the police – know that they are next in the Mayor’s and the corporate puke’s sights.  Everywhere we go, including on the huge rallies downtown, the police have been unfailingly friendly, courteous and openly supportive.  I have been joking that storming the barricades would be anticlimactic; the cops would smilingly open them up for us to pass. 

Secondly, we get honks and thumbs-up from non-union workers passing by.  This is bit of a surprise to me, as so often it seems that non-union workers resent us folks with our fancy contracts and union backing.  Perhaps that is a myth perpetuated by the lamestream, corporatist media.  After the way they’ve been man-handling us in the papers and TV news, it makes sense.

Shutting down LaSalle Street, Chicago's financial district

MASS RALLIES

The rallies have been huge – at least twice, if not three times the afore-mentioned media’s predictably lowball figures of 10,000 or so.  Being one small part of a sea of chanting, cheering, singing, hollering, noisemaker-ing, sign and banner waving teachers and allies all garbed in red is an awe-inspiring, intensely communal experience.  I have often found myself with a lump in my throat as I surveilled the mass of cheerfully determined humanity taking over the wide LaSalle street downtown, or absolutely packing Clark Street in front of the Board of Ed, or encircling City Hall on all sides.  We have twice shut down most of the West Loop for two or three hours, and I imagine we have given Mayor He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named a moment or two of pause, and perhaps just a little worry.

Those of you who have been following my photo journal will have seen these crowds, and the alternately funny and serious and often clever signs and banners they carry.  As I wander the crowds taking pictures, I also often single out kids carrying signs calling for fair treatment of their teacher and for school reform (smaller class sizes, more enrichment education, etc).  I do this not simply because they are cute, but because their support – the support these children and young people are lending their teachers – is heartening and humbling and bodes well for the future.

DIRTY TRICKS

We know the Mayor and his corporate buddies are worried, because their dirty tricks have escalated as the week has worn on.  They have mountains of money – mostly from outside the city or even the state – to spend on media and various shenanigans, and they are starting to show just how cynical, hypocritical and mendacious they really are.  Also, scared.

Some examples the Mayor's chicanery:

• Disinformation campaign in the media.  Don’t accept at face value the periodic reports that the negotiations are all but over, that teachers will be back at school tomorrow, etc.  There is generally no truth to such reporting and it mostly serves as an opening for further stories that make the Union and teachers look bad when they don’t come true.  Other obvious examples are the way they twist everything the union leadership does or says – like accusing CTU President Karen Lewis of ’walking out of’ talks when she was actually just taking a half hour off to address the rallying teachers downtown.  This is ironic, since she has been at almost every negotiating sessions these past many months, while the Mayor and the CEO of CPS, Jean-Claude Brizard, have attended exactly none.  Furthermore, when she responded to a reporter’s pointed question about her ‘walk out’ that the idea was “just silly” the Board pukes turned that comment into ‘Lewis Calls Contract Negotiations “Silly”.’
• Greedy Bastard Teachers.  The media loves to reduce our negotiating points down to our supposedly outrageous salary raise demands.  You will hear and read that we are demanding, in the middle of a recession, a huge raise of 16%, 20%, 25%.  In fact, like all negotiators worth their salt, our initial proposals were rather high; that’s what you do – you start with a somewhat exaggerated position, fully expecting to negotiate and compromise downwards.  So, while the media is still quoting ridiculous figures, the negotiations on salary have for the moment been settled and the negotiations have moved on to other issues like teacher evaluations, re-hiring priorities, and school closures.  The latest figure I got from one of my union reps, who has been in most of the important negotiating sessions, is the following four-year plan:  3%-2%-2%-2%.  Feel free to check my math (not my strongest suit), but I’m pretty sure that amounts to 9% over four years.  Considering that the Mayor unilaterally revoked the last 4% contractual salary increase we were due in our last contract, plus the fact that he is increasing the school day and lengthening the school year, this is an eminently reasonable, in fact modest salary raise.
• Ridiculous rumors spread – especially on talk radio.  There was one call-in show where the host opened up with the accusation that teachers were taking advantage of their new ‘free time’ to go on drunken pub crawls, laughing and joking about screwing CPS and the parents and students.  Another involved supposed shopping sprees – as if teachers on strike and not receiving pay for the duration of the walkout would go off plunking hundreds of dollars on shoes and the like. 
• The union leadership and the more active members are being ‘investigated’ in an effort to dig up dirt from their pasts to use against them.  Family and friends are being asked probing questions by mysterious, official sounding people.  That is sheer intimidation and an old trick.
• People with union garb are showing up at picket lines with bullhorns, spreading misinformation to confuse teachers and, presumably, trick them into missing the next day’s events or even going back to work prematurely.
• Remember those snotty young Repubs led by James O’Keefe, who produced those ‘gotcha’ videos – in reality heavily edited misrepresentations of what unsuspecting people said – that brought down ACORN and other liberal community groups?**  Well, they’re apparently lurking in the shadows here. There are reports of odd phone calls to CTU headquarters from so-called ‘reporters,’ and mysterious young videographers posing as legitimate media asking pointed questions of rank-and-file members at strike events.  So we can expect some bilge from these creeps to show up on your televisions some time soon.

I and my fellow teachers truly do want to get back to work.  Nobody in their right mind would do this often frustrating, exhausting, and increasingly micro-managed job unless they loved teaching and cherished the young people in their charge.  But we will not end the walkout until the powers-that-be acknowledge our legitimate grievances and treat us with dignity and respect.

ONE BIG UNION!

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*The Grand Army of the Republic, founded by Illinois politician and former Union General John Logan, was the veteran’s organization for Union Veterans of the Civil War.

**In a much less publicized follow-up to the devastating ACORN videos, the California Attorney General granted O’Keefe and his partner in dirty tricks, Hannah Giles (the ‘prostitute’), immunity in exchange for the raw tapes of the ‘interviews.’  The AG found that the videos actually aired were heavily edited misrepresentations; a subsequent US Government Accountability Office report cleared ACORN and its workers of any criminal activities or misuse of government funds.  Too late for ACORN, which was effectively destroyed by the controversy.