Teachers Matter

Let me be perfectly clear, I love what I do. I am a teacher. It is not just a job; it is not just what I do. It is who I am. Every day I am humbled to be entrusted with the care of Iowa’s most important resources. I take that responsibility very seriously, and believe passionately in the power a caring teacher has to change lives. Do not mistake my defense of my profession for a lack of gratitude for the opportunities I have been given. I love my students, I love my district, and I am happy to go to work each day. I have never been one who feels the need to tell the world how hard we work, never shared a single post about how summers off are a myth, never complained about spending my own money on school supplies, never shared that silly meme about counting down the days to vacation. I love what I do with such intensity that my attitude is typically one of almost annoying enthusiasm and joy. That will never change.

But today, for the first time, I am worried. Today, for the first time, I feel the need to put up my defenses. Here in Iowa, a bill has been presented to severely limit teachers’ ability to collectively bargain. The presumption seems to be that teachers are milking the system by bargaining for such outlandish perks as quality healthcare, a personal day or two, and a 25 minute duty-free lunch.

In a nation that promotes online virtual schools as equal alternatives to public education, and wields anti-teacher memes like swords across social media, there seems to be a severe lack of understanding of the humanity of teachers and the role these dedicated professionals play in shaping the lives of children.  I cannot make anyone truly understand how important what we do is. I can only tell you that we are not exaggerating when we say we save lives, we shape futures, we give hope to the hopeless, and voice to the voiceless. We build thinkers, and innovators. The world is changed by how we do our jobs.  Eliminating our ability to bargain and to be protected by contracts, makes our most experienced and highly educated teachers vulnerable to losing their jobs as a money saving measure for struggling school districts. It makes teaching less appealing to the best and brightest our governor once insisted he wanted to attract to the profession. It makes our schools weaker and our students will suffer for it.

Each time a tragedy occurs in a school, teachers are held up as heroes and for a few moments the nation marvels at the selfless dedication of its teachers. Then they forget and they move on. We do not forget, however. We were in our classrooms when the tragedy occurred at Columbine and we came to school the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. We cried with Sandy Hook, and we came to school the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. We never stop coming because our love is so much bigger than our fear, or our exhaustion, or our frustration, or even our need to be treated with respect. But do not minimize what we do and do not treat us as if we are irrelevant and easily replaceable. Your children know our worth. Ask them.