I am too close to this issue, and too sad/mad/disheartened to write anything less than a rant.......but I found Cheryl's blog and I think she does an excellent job of articulating the issues (I did take out one section as it is a long read)......... read if you care too.......Lest there be any confusion I FULLY support the teachers stand to protect Public Education in BC.
Teaching in BC February 29, 2012
I try to keep my personal politics separate from my writing career,
but I am a teacher, I am a Canadian, I have a right to have my voice
heard, and I cannot stand by in silence. Right now, my government is
pushing legislation through to silence my voice as an advocate for
public education. In a last-ditch effort to make my voice heard, I wrote
a letter to my member of the legislative assembly in the hope it will
be read aloud during the debate of Bill 22, and will be entered into
public record.
Dear Mr. Farnworth,
I am a constituent and one of the more than 40,000 teachers whose
voices will be silenced by the passing of Bill 22. While
disappointed—devastated would be more accurate—I am not surprised.
In 2001, I lost my constitutional right to engage in political
protest as a means of achieving a fair contract. In 2002, I lost the
right to have a say in how many students would be placed in my
classroom. In 2002, I also lost the right to argue for support for
students with special needs. In 2005, I was told the actual number of
students in my class was irrelevant so long as the district average for
class size at my grade level was 30 or fewer.
I stood and fought to protect the needs of children in my care every time.
And every time, I lost.
The Supreme Court has ruled that those cuts were illegal. My fight to
protect the learning conditions of the students I teach has been
validated by the highest (and most impartial) body in the province. Yet,
what is happening as a result of that ruling?
Nothing prior to July 1, 2013.
Why?
Because the current government needs to say they eliminated the
budget deficit. It doesn’t matter how many students suffer in the
meantime. It doesn’t matter how many classrooms are too crowded and have
too few resources. It doesn’t matter how many students with special
needs receive little or no extra help. What really matters is getting
re-elected, and the government has determined that rectifying the
injustice perpetrated in 2002 will cost too much money.
Flash back thirteen years:
When I started teaching, intermediate classes could not exceed thirty
students and the limit for placing students with special needs in a
classroom was firmly set at three. In addition, for every
Ministry-funded student in the class, the cap was lowered by one, so if I
had three special needs students in my class, my maximum class size was
27. At the time, it was acknowledged that these measures weren’t really
sufficient to meet the needs of all students in a classroom, but would
have to do given budgetary constraints and the impossibility of funding
lower student-to-teacher ratios.
I accepted this. I felt my efforts to individualize instruction for
all the students in my class was recognized and that my employers
understood the challenges I faced in working with such a diverse group
of learners within a very limited setting.
I felt valued. I felt as though my employer and I were working as a
team to deliver the best possible learning experience for the students
in our district.
I took lower wages during local bargaining in exchange for better
learning conditions for my students. I took lower wages in exchange for
better benefits for myself and my family – benefits I may never need,
but am willing to take home a smaller pay cheque for,
just in case I ever do. I earned less, and given that I didn’t access all the benefits I was entitled to, my employer saved money.
Flash forward to 2012:
Now, my employer has very little motivation to bargain, even over the
few things still allowed to be decided at the local level, because the
government has shown a willingness—nay, an enthusiasm—for legislating
contracts as a means of solving problems.
I teach in a 44-year-old classroom that does not meet the minimum
size requirements for a safe teaching space. My school is not earthquake
safe. The ceiling tiles are falling down. The roof leaks. My blinds
don’t open or close. I only have enough science textbooks for one third
of my class. My school has thousands of carpenter ants nesting in the
ceiling and they emerge every spring by the hundreds, writhing and
falling onto the students packed into the rooms below. My school has
HVAC issues. Every winter teachers have to close their classrooms and
take up temporary shelter in the cafeteria and library because the
furnace cannot warm certain areas of the building above 60 degrees
Fahrenheit. Some days there aren’t enough classrooms with heat, and
students have to wear coats, hats, and gloves to class.
I don’t teach in the remote north. I teach in Port Coquitlam.
When I walked into my classroom last year, I faced thirty students
across their chipped and battered desks. Six were already formally
identified as having special needs. Another eight should have been (and
are now in the process of being identified), and five more simply could
not handle the complexity or pace of the government-mandated curriculum
for their grade. All in all, I had nineteen—NINETEEN!—students on
various individualized education and behaviour plans.
Who in their right mind would argue that my class was a suitable learning environment?
Well, because the district average was at or below 30, with fewer
than three funded kids per division, the government said it was fine.
Fine?
I didn’t teach last year, I performed triage.
Last year more than half my class either held or qualified for a Ministry designation.
According to the government, this was fine because my district average fell within their guidelines.
I will never forgive the person who looked at my class composition and approved it.
And what’s worse, I will never forgive myself for being a part of the
injustice perpetrated on those students. I couldn’t help every child
every day. Assuming all things are equal, there are enough minutes in
the day for me to spend 5 minutes talking to each student – and that’s
assuming I don’t actually deliver any lessons, or you know, teach.
All things are not equal though. So if one student takes six, seven,
or ten minutes out of my day, that means I don’t get to even speak to
one other. I had nineteen students who could not cope without
significant support. I’m an experienced teacher, but even I haven’t
mastered the ability to clone myself eighteen times over in order to
provide the one-on-one assistance those students needed.
Guess what? They struggled. They acted out. They disrupted the
learning environment of others. The class was set up so they would fail.
I was set up to fail.
Never before have classroom conditions been so atrocious.
But, I was assured it was fine because “on average” the district met the government’s guidelines.
It breaks my heart to think of the other students – the eleven who
could cope. Can you imagine spending an entire year with someone and
have them speak to you maybe once a week? To watch as the student who
strolls in late and cannot find his homework gets the teacher’s
attention and you, who are there every day and always try your best, are
basically invisible because you don’t have an urgent need?
Removing class size and composition from the collective agreement was criminal.
It needs to be redressed.
The government needs to repair the damage that has been done, not
cripple the system even more by stripping contracts and imposing a
legislated settlement that doesn’t come close to restoring what was
taken away.
I am an advocate for my students. Let me do my job. Let me tell you
what my working conditions are like. Let me tell you what I need to help
our children become the best and the brightest in the country. Let me
help you put their needs first.
I have been told by those who are not teachers that I ask for too
much. That I should be happy with the “generous” wage increases the
government has given me over the years. That I am over paid and under
worked. That I should be thankful I get what I get because I’d never
have it so good if I had a “real” job.
I have been called lazy.
Slack.
Selfish.
Incompetent.
Not by my students or their parents, but by the government, the
media, and the general public. I have listened to this message over and
over again for the past thirteen years. I have tried to remain positive,
to tell myself I am making a difference, that what I do matters.
Does it?
I am no longer sure.
Actually, that’s not true. I
know what I do matters. What I no longer believe is that anyone else cares.
Public education is not about an altruistic belief in learning for
learning’s sake. It no longer exists because it is an essential
component of maintaining and improving a democratic society. It is not
about preparing our youth for the future.
It is about free childcare.
Firefighters are an essential service. Police officers. Paramedics.
These are highly trained professionals who have to be available 24/7
because accidents, crimes, and illness don’t work nine to five.
Education is valuable.
Is every minute essential?
The government says it is. They argue that students will be harmed if
they miss even a single day due to teachers walking off the job –
that’s what essential service legislation boils down to.
Yet, even a former premier used to pull his children from classes for
family vacations! How can it be illegal for me to protest my horrific
working conditions in defence of my students, but it is absolutely fine
for parents to take their kids out for days, weeks, sometimes even
months at a time? If it is illegal for me to deprive students of their
right to an education, then it should be illegal for parents to do so
too.
To argue otherwise is to admit the essential service designation is a
hypocritical piece of politicking designed for the purpose of weakening
teacher’s ability to bargain for a fair contract – or that it’s a PR
gesture to buy parental support because it’s painfully hard to find
affordable child care in this province.
Speaking of child care, why doesn’t the government tell parents
schools are actually open during a withdrawal of services? If parents
cannot find suitable care for their children during a walkout, they can
still drop their children off at school. The administrators have to
report for work, and they’re not bound by any class size or composition
rules – they could supervise the entire school population in the
gymnasium if need be.
THE. SCHOOLS. ARE. OPEN.
YOUR CHILDREN CAN STILL BE SAFE.
If more parents were aware of this fact, no family would have to
experience stress and financial hardship as a result of any job action,
and teachers would still have a tool in their arsenal for bringing their
employer to the table.
The current Minister of Education is arguing that the job action I
have engaged in over the past six months is harming our students. I
would argue it’s benefiting them. Instead of dealing with paperwork for
the office, instead of being bombarded with administrivia, my entire day
is focused on teaching my students.
The Minister has argued that the lack of report cards is harming
students. He has argued that students have failed courses and will not
graduate because teachers haven’t issued report cards. He has publicly
stated parents have contacted him, telling him they had no idea what was
going on in their child’s class because report cards weren’t issued.
I have several issues with this line of reasoning.
One, why aren’t parents contacting teachers during the semester and,
are instead, contacting the Minister of Education after the fact?
Really? That’s like driving your car for over a year without taking it
in for maintenance then phoning the president of the car company when
the mechanic tells you your brakes need changing.
Teachers only refused to write report cards, we didn’t stop
communicating with parents. Did these parents ask to see their child’s
graded assignments and tests during the semester? Did they not think it
odd if the child either wouldn’t show them, or said they hadn’t had any
tests?
Parents want to trust their children, but if a child says they’re
doing well and then brings home a failing grade, how is that the
teacher’s fault? The assignments were marked – that’s communication.
Tests were graded – that’s communication. If a student hides the failing
evidence from his/her parent, the teacher shouldn’t be to blame. Short
of driving to every student’s home and hand-delivering the assignments,
there’s only so much we can do if parents don’t reach out too.
If, as a parent, you feel you aren’t being adequately informed about
your child’s progress, you have a right to contact the teacher and
request a meeting to get the information you need. You can have a
meeting in person, over the phone, or even via email. This applies at
any point in the school year, regardless of whether or not teachers are
engaging in job action.
Two, once the report card goes home, it’s too late. The student has
already failed the course by this point. A report card is a summative
document that summarizes what occurred during a semester or term. It is
issued at the end of the course/term. Anyone who thinks a report card
would have prevented a student from failing has their timelines mixed
up.
Students are not failing because report cards aren’t going home.
Students are failing because they haven’t done their homework. (Or it’s
because the system is failing them, but I already covered that earlier.)
I think the lack of formal reporting has been incredibly beneficial.
Parents who would never contact me in the past—or only swoop in after a
report card was issued and demand to know why certain grades were
assigned—are taking a more active interest in their children’s progress.
The parents of students in my class are asking their children what
they’re learning. They’re asking to see the planner (homework
organizer), and they’re asking to see completed assignments and tests.
The parents of students in my class are becoming active partners in
their child’s learning. This government purports to put families first.
The sorts of discussions happening in the homes around the province as
parents actively seek to understand what is going on in their child’s
life is just the sort of thing the government should be encouraging, not
legislating an end to.
Oh, and because I am not spending hours counting money, or making
lists of locker numbers and combinations, or collecting vaccination
forms, or handing out photo orders, or alphabetizing student information
verification sheets, or counting the chairs in my room for inventory, I
actually have time at the end of the day to do the most important thing
of all: talk with parents about their children.
I am a teacher.
I have always put my students first.
I matter.
My students matter.
Please, I implore you, do not let the government demean me and the
services I provide even further by passing Bill 22. There is another
way. There always is.
Thank you for your time and attention to this matter.
Yours in Education,
Cheryl Angst.
