Class

This past Wednesday, we had a day of action. The "we" in that sentence represents the teachers of the Oakland Unified School District. To be more precise, a self-selected group of those teachers who took it upon themselves to respond to this call to action. The "action" in that first sentence was standing on a number of street corners, predetermined to have heavy traffic, and holler at the passing cars. This is what educators feel will help inspire confidence in our abilities to nurture and herd the next generation to greatness. To be more precise, we want a raise.
Generally speaking, I'm not that good a union member. I tend to hang on the edge of the organized labor pool and only wade in when things get really ridiculous. Here's the ridiculous thing that got me going: This is my sixteenth year of teaching, and in all that time, I have only had one and a half contracts. This may sound like stability to some, but for me it has meant that I have been stuck in a very particular earning channel that has left me living essentially month to month even after more than a decade and a half of service. The half contract is there because a few years back the powers-that-be downtown decided to impose a contract that gave us all not a raise, but a cut in the number of adult education teachers as well as opening the door to increasing class size.
I spend enough time around fourth graders to know that doesn't sound exactly fair. That's why I took to the streets back then, and why, after three more years and seemingly endless negotiation, a one point five percent raise seems just a little, well, small. Off I trotted to my neighborhood's designated intersection, and I stood and exhorted passing drivers to honk in support of us silly green-shirted teachers. Solidarity with the workers and all that rot. Then I rode my bike home, confident that my voice was heard.
But I kept hearing the conversation I had with one of my colleagues just before I left for my moment of protest. I asked her if she would be attending the event.
She responded by letting me know that she had a prior commitment, but her exact words were: "No, I have class."
I thought about that as I rode my bike home after an hour of yelling at traffic. She decided not to go because she has class. I guess I got schooled.