Celebrating Sue and John's Birthdays

Some love stories change the world; their story made mine. 

Today is my mom's birthday. We lost her four years ago, and some days it feels like she's still here. I can still have conversations with her, still imagine what she'd have to say to me about politics, movies, and current events.

She wasn't thrilled that I chose to be a teacher, but she grew to respect my work and the profession. That's what's hard about the conversations I have with Mom in my head. She would have evolved and changed over these last four years, so by now, on the night before her daughter goes on strike, she would support me unconditionally. She would tell me to go to bed, and to take care of the kids, and of David, but mostly, to take care of myself.

Tomorrow is my Dad's birthday. He's turning 88. In Japanese culture 88 is a beiju year, extra-special. 88 is rice age, and for my father, whose middle name, Hachiro, means eighth born son, I hope this year is particularly auspicious. I hope it means fading clarity comes into focus and confusion cuts to sharpness. But until that clarity and sharpness returns, I've started imagining conversations I would have with the Dad of ten years ago about what's happening right now.

Back when their words came through more clearly...

If my Dad's memories were still clear and his wit was still sharp, he would remind me that standing up and speaking out for what is right holds the upmost importance. He would tell me about his time in Japanese internment camp and wonder why people didn't stand up, didn't do something to help. He'd say we have to do something about the terrible things that are happening right now.

I will be walking the line tomorrow with these words from my parents on my mind. I will check in with myself more than usual. Instead of thinking shikataganai, or it can't be helped as many said about the Japanese incarceration, I will be standing up and speaking out about my large classes, and the lack of a full-time nurse, and that our library is closed and outdated because we haven't had a teacher librarian in a decade. I will insist that the hedge-fund manager who is unfathomably at the helm in our district resign, and that we find someone who can truly lead our district and serve our schools, our communities, our students.

For my mom, I will take breaks and make sure my daughter has snacks and dry clothes, and I will make sure I take care of myself too.

For my dad, I will stand up and speak up for what is right.

These two days mark the beginning of the lives of two people who made me, and living my life in the their wisdom is how I honor them.

On the Eve of Spring Term...

The last night of a vacation is always tough. No more travel or sleeping in. No opportunities for exercise each morning, or going out for brunch, or spending time with family and friends. 

Tomorrow, for the first time this year, we will head back to school. My son will head off to daycare, my daughter will join her first grade classmates, my partner will head off to the high school he serves, and I will go to my middle school. We will greet students, teachers, and support staff. We will catch up on vacation news, and then we will talk about this strike.

 

Team Nakada-Gantt is #Red4Ed

It’s coming, because our district wants it. They want to break the union and public schools as we know them. They want to pretend our demands are unreasonable and that the district can’t afford them, but billions in surplus tell us differently. They want the public to turn on teachers; to see us as selfish, but the outpouring of support from parents and families has galvanized our ranks.

We don’t want to strike, but we know we are standing up for what is right. It is the right thing to do for education professionals, for families, and for communities.

We are doing this for our students, the ones I am excited to see tomorrow morning, and in each class period throughout the school day. On break, it’s easy to forget all I learn from my students, all I gain from getting to share the classroom space with them, and tomorrow they will help me remember. It will be so good to see them. They will remind me how good it feels to get started reading, writing, speaking, and listening with them. They will remind me that a quote, a question, and a song can crack our lives open and make us remember the things that are most important. They will remind me of my favorite Anne Frank quote, “In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.”

This strike will be hard for so many. It will be hard for teachers who are rewarded daily by the work we do at our schools. It will be hard financially for families risking so much. It will be hard for parents wanting to make the right decisions for their children. It will be hard for students who want to learn and see teachers outside, fighting for just learning conditions. And I’m sure there are thousands of other ways this will be a challenge that I haven’t thought of yet.

So, I hope the district sees these hardships, sees the communities they are supposed to serve, sees the students who breathe life into our schools, and that they make an offer to help provide the schools our students deserve. They could do this tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. But until that offer comes, you will find me on the line.