What a weekend it's been...amidst fun and good friends, we've still been wrapped up in everything happening here on the home front with Gov. Walker's bill proposal. We've been back and forth for more rallies and protests at the Capitol. The debate over Gov. Walker's bill continues.
More than ever, I am proud to call myself a Wisconsinite. Over 60,000 people protested at the Capitol on Saturday, and not one arrest has been made as a result of protest related violence. Check out this article or this other article for more information on the peaceful protesters. I have to admit, when the Tea Party announced that they'd be showing up in support of the bill on Saturday, I started to get nervous about how things might play out. But protesters have been calm, respectful and altogether classy. I've always loved this city, but tonight I am truly proud to be a Madisonite.
Thus was my general experience and feeling when my friends and I attended the protest yesterday afternoon, brought to tears at times by the firefighters marching in support of other civil servants (even though firefighters and police officers are exempt from this bill - a correction from my earlier post), passion exuding from students for their teachers, and general spirit of compassion around Capitol Square. Only a few little moments soured the time...
I am still struggling with one particular interaction, one that speaks to me about a bigger issue I have with this bill. As Erin, Lyndsay and I approached the square, three very passionate adolescents stood on a bench with signs, yelling out in support of the bill. I got a little fired up by this (which may not be that much of a surprise to many of you) and I walked over and asked them, "say, do you know what will happen to your teachers if this bill passes?" The three replied unanimously, "we don't care, we're home-schooled." At this point, knowing I'd better walk away rather than reply impulsively, I just said "oh" and turned away. As I walked away, the eldest yelled out to me, "what's the big deal anyway, these teachers are just going to lose a few hundred dollars or something?!?"
I can't shake this scene. Something about this interaction gets to my core, to the part of me that is always challenging me to see beyond myself, beyond my own natural, inherent selfish desires and inclinations. Maybe, in light of this, this all hit too close to home. Because those kids were right - they don't have to care, their world won't be affected by this bill. I don't really blame them, they don't know any different. But their attitude speaks to a greater spirit of selfishness that is incredibly upsetting to me. Not to mention a lack of awareness about how much we all depend on civil servants, and how drastically this state will change if we don't care for the people who care for our state. I shudder at the trickle down impact of such a bill. (As just one example, there are only 5 other states in the country without collective bargaining rights for teachers - those states rank 50th, 49th, 48th, 47th and 44th nationally in ACT scores. Yipes.)
I keep thinking about these kids...and about the thousands of other kids who I saw out marching whose lives will be immediately and directly impacted by such a drastic bill. I think about the quadriplegic man who was riding around the square with a sign taped to his wheelchair reading "please think about the nurses." And I think, a whole lot, about my Friday afternoons.
Friday afternoons I lead a dance/movement therapy class for adults with developmental delays. It is quite often one of the highlights of my week. In our short hour together, we check in about the events of the past week and upcoming plans for the weekend and then spend the bulk of the time dancing, which takes many different forms. Sometimes we're dancing as a group, sometimes we're cheering each other on individually as members get their solo dance groove on, sometimes we're in our own little worlds, connected only by the common music, and that's just fine too. The group members light each other up - remembering important events, encouraging each other, showing empathy when someone is having a difficult time. At the end, we stand in our circle and do a ritual thank you to end the group. And I know I, at the very least, leave a little better than when I came in.
The reality is, my group members are there because some state employee advocated for them. Their group home companion, or their case manager, or a social worker, said "Betty loves to dance, and her world will be a better place if she gets the chance to do that once a week," or "John doesn't get to be around peers at any point in his week, and this one hour will give him the chance to socialize with people his own age." These state workers, most who make a pittance of a salary, are imperative in the lives of those they serve.
If this bill passes, people with developmental delays and mental illness will be directly impacted. Their case managers, group home caretakers, counselors, inpatient care providers - they are all state employees. Not to mention that the bill will allow for a provision to cut or eliminate health care for low-income individuals (many who suffer from mental illness). And I can't shake this feeling that it just isn't fair - that people who have so little anyway (and who aren't asking for much) are going to have more taken away, are going to be stripped down of the help and care they need.
My work is comprised of a combination of teaching and therapy. If this bill passes, my income from teaching will be directly and negatively impacted. My income as a private sector therapist won't be. But all of the people I work with will feel the blow. And I have to say, right now, I can't help but think much more about the latter. At some point (soon), I hope the powers that be will do the same.
1 comment:
As always, Mariah, your posts are inquisitive, articulate and shed light on the important questions we must ask ourselves in light of events that extend beyond our personal sphere of concern. I don't live in WI anymore— haven't in a long while—but I have never been more focused on the implications of state government. In part, because I am only beginning to understand how the political history of WI reflects on the rest of the country. More importantly, because as an educator, I know this fight will come to my door soon enough in California. I identify with your concern about balancing your roles in both the private and public sectors as it is one I am equally faced with. In two of my jobs, I have no one to fight for my interests; I am at the mercy of my employers. In the other, I have a union to stand up for my rights as a public employee: to guarantee that I am not overworked and get quality compensation. To assume that the public and private sectors are mutually exclusive is, indeed, a dangerous and devisive thing. Moreover, to assume that one is not directly affected by the events happening WI (and the battle for unions' rights) is in direct contradiction to an American history steeped in the battle for workers' rights. As citizens we can argue respectfully over the role of unions in the 21st century. But as we have seen in Madison, it when discourse is interrupted in lieu of political expediency when we must all stand up and voice our concerns.
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