I have officially resigned and while it has brought a sense of liberty, I realize there is a residue of bitterness. I'm trying to remember that I'm off to a whole new world that I've been dreaming of for a lifetime. But sometimes I am caught up in the negativity that surrounds me in that school and I want to speak the truth. Because what happened there is wrong.
So often in these last few months I have been reminded of my fight for my children. I have been grappling with the contrasting notions of fighting and surviving. To do one is not always to do the other. I did fight for my children, and at one point I even believed that I would prevail. I believed in truth and justice and the integrity of the courts to do what is right. Slowly I began to open my eyes to the world of money, connections and power. I realized that one single mother with no money and no support could never really win. And so I survived. I am a different person now. It's impossible not to be. The focus of my world has shifted. I've gone through mourning and every so often I take a deep breathe and feel incredible sadness and injustice touch every part of me. My heart stops. Of course it resumes momentarily but for just that one minute, I lose another part of me.
In this fight, not necessarily for my job, but for my dignity and professionalism, I've experienced a similar path. I began fighting. (Although I must admit, as soon as I sensed the similarities to the fight for my children, I began to pull back.) I worked closely with a strong and supportive union representative who reminded me of the lawyer I wished I'd had during the family court saga. Every written response I submitted she praised for its insight and professionalism. I could almost believe her. And I did admire her unwavering desire to fight and her faith that this could actually make a difference.
I lose faith so easily. I think I'm something of a cynic. I don't believe some people can ever really see beyond themselves and their own power. And I'm not really sure how one can be convinced that one dead body can make a difference.
I've recently read "Four Spirits" and been confronted with news stories of current fights for human rights and liberties. I am stunned by the convictions that allow one person to know that their sacrifice will be worth something. Because it's not just one dead body that gets attention; we all know there must be many. It requires a certain confidence that others will come behind you and pick up the fight. And in myself I see someone who quickly feels alone and isolated. I don't have much confidence in anyone coming along to pick up the fight.
In many ways, this is just a small fight about one person and her merit as a professional. But there is another layer. And that involves the lives of children and families that are not receiving the caliber of education they deserve. Sometimes this other layer can stir my passion; these are fragile children that need more than they are being given. Not only are they losing valuable educational time and being allowed to stagnate emotionally, but they are infringing on others educational and emotional growth.
I'm not convinced one dead body can change things here. And the world is vast. I have a family to consider and there are many choices to move on to. I have heard there were others. Teachers sacrificed because providing the right services would just cost too much. Teachers who understand the unique needs of the emotionally distraught, but cannot provide it without a supportive district-wide philosophy designed to address these children.Time and regime change is one true path to reform.
I don't want to be just one dead body. But I do want to find the thing that inspires such passion and conviction that I am tempted to stay and fight rather than merely survive. And I want to feel with certainty that someone else is going to come along and pick up the fight.
