The Line

…again. I should just leave it here in school. Maybe pinned to my classroom door.

I’ve expressed some skepticism about the usefulness of teacher unions previously, but our union’s current negotiations– or lack thereof– have moved beyond my philosophical quandaries. Well into our second year without a contract, I am appalled by the inability of our district to resolve the issues on the table in any kind of timely way. If we were auto workers, we would have been on the picket line months ago.

As it is, we are bound by a no-strike clause… and I have now become so ambivalent about this provision that it is almost physically painful.

I never thought I would even entertain the thought of a walk out. I hate it. It feels like sacrificing my students’ well-being for my own. And yet when teachers’ negotiating power has been exhausted in the face of genuine injustice, what is there left to do? When an indifferent district can rely on– dare I say abuse?– our assured presence in the classroom, what incentive do they have to work with our union quickly to address our needs?

There are ways to strike without striking, of course, and such last resort approaches are being discussed. But these days, I truly wonder if it’s enough.

Help me out, readers.

Some Billy Bragg, anyone?

13-there-is-power-in-a-union-lp-version

I spent just about two hours today with PJ Higgins and six of his teachers, Skyped into their professional development, talking about how I succeed and fail implementing literature circles and writer’s workshop approaches in the classroom. I found myself walking from room to room in my house, gesticulating to the air, passionately attempting to seduce these thoughtful, caring educators into my kid-driven, constructivist world. I had no idea I could get so fired up.

Here’s the kicker. Despite all my previous (and continued) skepticism about the use of technology in the classroom, I have no doubt– none– about its focused benefits for cross-literate adults, particularly for the traditionally isolated teacher. I have never laid eyes on Patrick. We discovered one another’s blogs through a chance link on a third blog. He’s in New Jersey, for cripe’s sake. And yet I got more pleasure and food for thought out of this day than any professional development I’ve done at home in a long while.

Here comes everybody.

What the heck is this?

It’s a cartogram of the United States county-level voting results, using gradations of red and blue to represent differing percentages. (Thanks Kim!)

Where is this stuff on the nightly news, I wonder?

Check here for more election mapping fun. Use it in class. And for even more cartographic mind trips, check out Worldmapper.

I tried. I really did. I went to the Board of Elections. Then I sent in about six little postcards indicating my interest in becoming a pollworker. I haranged the Democratic Elections Commissioner for my county. I even switched parties, giving up my precious Independent registration for the chance to monitor, sternly, the oscillation of the vote-concealing curtains that look like they were made from the ripped-off seat covers of a 1972 Chevrolet Monte Carlo.

Even the training last week was a ball. I put in for a personal day on November 4. Gleefully, I received my assignment: The Pumpkin Hook Fire Hall. I’m not kidding.

I wanted it bad.

But I will have to settle for publishing a short list of fun facts about voting in New York, because the double ear infection which may require intubation caught up with me just as I was figuring out which political slogan t-shirts I couldn’t legally wear that day.

I was back in school today giving it the old college try, despite being able to hear little more than my own Darth Vader breathing. Gotta tell ya, it’s fun tromping around the room trying to give notes on conflict in literature and having to cup my hand around the side of my head and say, “EHHHHH?” to every tween who tries to participate, like I’ve recently been cryogenically defrosted from the Civil War era.

I console myself with this:

• Every vote in New York is checked six times by equal numbers of unpaid members of the majority and minority parties.
• Republican and Democratic commissioner alike for my county had hilariously snooty scorn to heap upon voting procedures in Florida. “None of that around here,” they sniffed. “You’re in line at 9 PM, you vote. Period.”
• As a pollworker one can, in fact, accept orange juice and doughnuts bought by a bipartisan slush fund without compromising one’s integrity.
• Write-in candidates for office in New York have more often included Mickey Mouse than Charlton Heston.
• There’s always next year.
• Obama won.

The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister’s eyes, into
Your brother’s face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning

~ Maya Angelou