Humble Pride

Pride (of any kind) is a natural enemy of humility. There’s a balance that can not be ignored.

Specifically, this holiday season will be humble because we refused to recognize our place in the economic heirarchy. We won’t be proclaiming how great we are without first acknowledging the value of international commerce.

Even if we actually were the “first world nation” that we pretend to be, our wealth is meaningless without the gross national products of nations where exploitation and human rights violations are prevelant.

It’s a confusing and complicated debacle, to say the least. But simply consider that the Fortune 500 companies that we celebrate either have their roots in oppression and human rights violations OR they have developed undetectable, unrecognizable, or socially tolerable ways to to take advantage of consumers to maximize profits.

And yet we find ourselves with a predicament. In an effort to maximize our home budgets and minimize our overall expenses, we buy products that are cheaper. Most of us can’t afford products that are better for our health (or safety). Purchases that are environmentally responsible cost too much. It’s still fashionable to overpay for products that exploit human labor. Our manufactured goods from other countries are discounted on shelves; while our domestically grown crops are subsidized (and even limited to control supply chains).

Our poor will choose to look rich more often than our rich choose to appear poor. Meanwhile generations of trickle-down economics, corporate welfare, preferential banking practices, and institutional injustice have fortified a social structure that is on the brink of eminent collapse.

“Boot-strap politics” will loudly condemn anyone advocating for reform. Short-sightedness prefers to look down than look ahead. And those looking back refuse to see the truth right before us.

This is not a condemnation, rather it is a condemned nation. Look! Look in the mirror when you brush your teeth. Be sure to spit out more than last night’s residual char as we collectively neglect to floss.

Everything we consume was made by hands that are NOT our own. And we’ve forgotten what’s it’s like to not have. We need for nothing but want for everything. We consume products made by hands that need for everything yet work hard for EVERYTHING they want (and most times still don’t get it).

Think about it!

Entitlement—she’s a wicked mistress. She teases us. She offers us things we don’t deserve. She whispers in our ear. With augmentations and enhancements that distract us from her deficient abnormalities. Everything about her is fake…everything except for her yearning to be more than she is. And we caress her cheeks. We also long for something that isn’t there. A mirage…

Pride comes before the fall. How proud are we right now?

Exponential Reversal

Consider that the marker for colonialism in our nation is about 400 years wide. Since 1619, this land of plenty has been colonized, capitalized, and exploited. For this sake of this consideration, let’s not speak of those who facilitated this nor of those who were the victims. Let’s focus on the system itself.

Up until 2019, the class system defined wealth either by legacies or by grit. Old money and new money still controlled the outcomes for those with no money. Government created policy that either protected wealth or helped build wealth, but still there are few policies that protect anyone who is deficient or destitute.

Entire metropolitan homeless communities are either ignored or displaced further from sight. Yet community agencies exploit the poor to raise capital by identifying the need. Sound bites and donation buttons are tools of wealth-generating machines that enable the wealthy to write off their donations for tax credits. There are advantages to being deficient in that someone more fortunate may use their energy to shine a spotlight on themselves. Helping others never looked so good.

When we look at the most controversial conditions of the Americans (both continents), we see that those who thrive to survive must contend with those who feel threatened. As if the cost of giving someone else a chance at a good life might diminish their own good fortune.

We have elevated the things associated with wealth to such an intangible level. So much so that the wealthiest people in the world must rely on their accountants to tell them the size of their assets. Meanwhile, those who can’t fathom that kind of wealth no longer fantasize about being rich. They just want to have enough…

Enough (?)

So how can we be surprised that the unemployed refuse to work for a minimum wage. During a pandemic or “post-pandemic” no less. This is as ridiculous as some elementary school social studies textbooks claiming that slaves were no more than indentured servants looking for ways to earn their freedom. We’ve indoctrinated this into students for generations. This decade, it stops!

Here’s something else to consider: the jobless did not loose their jobs by choice! Their reluctance to return to insufficient working conditions is not a reluctance AT ALL! It is no more than a decision to demand opportunities that are deserving of ANY human being.

When the criticism is made that working for less is still better than starving, we must hear what’s REALLY being proclaimed. Translated, “they better get back to work before this condition impacts our lifestyle of plenty.!” Alas, the threat of starvation does not yield to the empathy required to improve living conditions. Let’s face it—it’s either a problem or it isn’t! We can no longer point our finger at their problem and not play a role in the resolution of said problem.

For those sitting in the back (and perhaps haven’t joined the conversation), starving is a choice that NO ONE makes. Working in substandard conditions is not the solution to starvation, or homelessness, survival. When we make explainations for those who don’t have, we are justifying our own conditions in life.

It’s sounds something like this: “if they did what I do, then they’d enjoy the life I enjoy.” Translated, if they had the opportunity that I had; if they worked as hard as I did; if they made better decisions…then I wouldn’t have to hear about it; think about it; or have to see it.

These are the conversations that take place when deciding who to vote for in November. Isn’t it ironic that millions are spent to elect leaders nearly weeks before we scrounge up the donated turkeys and canned hams for the people who were too disenfranchised to vote?

Poverty is not a choice. Circumstances by which humans are unable to eat or sleep in a bed or live without access to toiletries, hygiene, or healthcare—further distance them from having the means to improve their W E A L T H…let alone compete for jobs that will improve their class. In other parts of the world this would not be considered a class issue. It would be a cast issue, by which there could be no “rise from the ashes.” But in the Americas, we still cling to the “boot strings” methodology.

So when you think about poverty, consider whomever has less than you. Forget about what you did to get where you are right now. Forget about how it felt to have less. Abandon those colonial rituals where you put your own well-being on a rung above other human beings. Don’t try to empathize because you are clearly impervious to that type of reasoning.

Instead consider survival. Consider what a human being must do to exist in a world that will cast him or her aside to keep from being uncomfortable. Not to ignite fear, but to empower another human being to possess their right to live and thrive. Do not be afraid of what you may loose by extending a hand. Be afraid of what will happen if you don’t.

Although this would be an opportune time to conclude a rant, we mustn’t forget the purpose of this essay. Without pointing fingers, we are asked to consider how our world has developed these habits since the arrival of the first slaves. We must realize that our own human conditions have improved exponentially in the past fifty years. And we must reckon that the next generation will undo the past practices that have oppressed those who are disenfranchised now.

Being born into a condition is not a life sentence. If you truly believe that people can improve their circumstances, then lead by example. Be the person that others need. Help others improve their circumstances. And recognize there are consequence for turning away amidst adversity.

A World Without Consequence

Tolls on the Pennsylvania Turnpike have been unpaid by non-E-ZPASS drivers for nearly a year. These tolls are no longer monitored by human toll-takers because it was too costly. It was understood that removing the cost of paying toll-takers to do this task (instead of an automated system) was be less costly—that it would save tax payers AND in fact generate revenue that may be used to maintain Pennsylvania roadways.

These were Union jobs! Jobs that were eliminated by a for-profit third party did not reduce the cost of collecting tolls. The uncollected tolls certainly did not increase the revenue that state could use to maintain Pennsylvania roadways.

Although this phenomenon was unintended, the revelation of this incident is not accidental.

Pay close attention to the story that is not told. Who benefits from this information? All of those civil servants who lost their jobs to an automated system either filed for unemployment or eventually placed a burden on the workforce.

*increased job applicants for any job creates an adverse demand for employment and impacts wages, benefits, and opportunities

Job shortages results in higher wages and increased incentives to attracted qualified employees. Conversely, a bloated job market drives wages downward and pits applicants against each other and creates a competitive hiring process.

Accidental? Perhaps. Incidental? Not at all.

Anti-union tactics have anti-human impacts.

Bus driver shortages have resulted in school boards offering incentives for parents to find alternate methods to get their children to school. This is not a handout to the tax payers. This does not come without restrictions. And this is not a payment to everyone. These cash payments to parents are designed to offset the expense of providing safe and affordable transportation for the students. The low wages are not enough for former drivers to risk driving bus loads of students in infectious conditions. As a matter of fact, the wages were insufficient pre-pandemic.

Although this may not have been by design, the result directly impacts unionized drivers. Former drivers demanded a livable wage and instead watched their positions go unfilled. This is not a strike initiated by the drivers. THIS is a blatant refusal to negotiate on behalf of the managers.

School boards are incentivizing the parents to transport their own children instead of providing safer conditions and raising the salary of their drivers.

Again, pay close attention to the story that is not told. The media isn’t misreporting the circumstances. No! The sound bites in the news simply don’t allow an in-depth look at the dynamics of the circumstance. And this here is but a tease. Dig deeper!

There are consequences the are far greater than what we first realize. Our narratives are fluid and dependent on the lens by which we view them.

WRONG! (a coVid story)

What have we learned about the COVID contagion since March 2020? Have we applied what we know now? Have we increased our precautions in light of the Delta Variant’s heightened risks?

T-minus 72 hours before students step foot in New Jersey classrooms; administrators have hailed how important the staff is to reintroducing students back into classroom instruction. School nurses warn that teachers should triage non-emergencies in their classrooms. Teachers apply their interpretation of social distancing and shared supplies to essentially discern the most compelling precautions. All of the authorities and talking heads are confident that their policies are enough to keep students safe; all this while reminding teachers about self care.

I am an educator who polled hundreds of colleagues and engaged them in conversations. Every voice I heard had very valid concerns. Even the most seasoned educators could not predict how this school year will play out. I am THAT educator who will normally proceed boldly (and not even ask for forgiveness later). But I’ve spent the past few days speaking with a variety of teachers that I work with daily. I asked them how they understand the rules pertaining to safety precautions. And despite three days of socio-emotional learning orientation, “right-to-know” training, and team building (with minimal social distancing), my informal interviews suggest that this is not going to be a safe year.

I try to remain optimistic. But I also recognize that we are as strong as the weakest link. I’ve identified some weak links. Instead of fighting with my colleagues over our varying opinions on what “safe” means, I’ve decided to plot a course for my own safety.

I observe the social media photos of how educators have positioned student desks next to one another. Yes, they have plexiglass partitions (because it seemed like a solution a year ago), but this manifestation of exclusion still puts students’ chairs within 6 inches of each other. Not to mention, the layers of plexiglass created by rows of desks prevent students from seeing the instructional board/screen at the front of the room. How long before students either stand up or peak around the plexiglass to see? Will this be conducive to social distancing?

I prepare my instruction based on the 80 students that will enter and exit my classroom fully masked and with individual supplies. I tuck the communal supplies away for now. Sadly, I’ve heard experienced science teachers argue that this disease is airborne only; and that some are still considering allowing students to share supplies like markers and crayons. So why have we been wiping down desks? Why have we shut down water fountains, wiping down door handles, and distributing individual laptops and tablets???

I prepare the individual pencil cases that the district provided for each of my homeroom students. I distribute to each desk all of the forms that must be signed and returned by parents. I arrange my classroom desks in such a way that they do not touch one another nor is their proximity from the board impeded. I took what I believe to be safe and enhanced it. I took all of the district protocols into consideration despite how difficult it will make instruction.

I take a break and survey a few more colleagues. “Do you plan on disinfecting communal supplies?” “Are you planning to use textbooks?” “Are the desks in your classroom butted up next to one another?” Not all of the responses were consistent. I’m not just planning my safe space, but I am also evaluating whether the students that will be in these other rooms for a part of the day will return with a contagion. I suppose we are all safe if their temperature is still checked at the front door, right? Even if they’re asymptomatic?

My primary goal was to keep my students safe. When they are safe, I am safe. Learning will come secondary. But my efforts are meaningless if just ONE person (administrator/staff/student) is careless. Just ONE is the weakest link.

Am I overreacting? And if so, is it alright to be safeR? Better safe than…

I don’t get hazard pay, and frankly I don’t want it. The last thing I need is to be offered extra compensation that obligates me to do things that do not keep me safe.

As I walk out of the building for the long weekend before classes start, I overhear a custodian say that their prediction is three weeks…. I pause. “Three weeks until what??” I don’t really want to know. I want him to be wrong too. I don’t want to go remote or hybrid ever again. But it’s not about what I want, is it? I don’t know about you, but there’s two things that I don’t do: (1) under-value the secretaries and (2) underestimate the custodians. And you can imagine why. There are few things that I leave to chance.

I’m wrong so often that I’m used to it. I’m probably wrong for noticing these idiosyncrasies or making any observations. But this is one of those times that I hope that I AM wrong, because if I’m not, I’m the ONE who is going to be sorry.

Excuse Them, For They Know Not…

I’ve developed a strange new addiction. I’ve inadvertently allowed my teenage son to join me. We sit for hours, watching and waiting as our exhibitionism develops into full-blown fascination. We use my account, but he types the keywords into the search: CRASHES, Exotic CARS, police CHASES.

Sometimes we watch for hours. What we see is organic and unrehearsed. These raw videos are far greater than any reality show—and certainly better than the any adventure action flicks. Dash cameras, traffic cameras, and police cameras give us the action without explanation. No narratives. No previews or play-by-plays. No sequels! We get what we get, and then on to the next clip.

Once in the while, a scene will trigger a random exclamation. “Ugh! Whew! What da heck?!?”

But the last time we enjoyed our time together, my son made an interesting observation. He said, “why are they so stupid?!”

“Who?”

“The drivers!”

“Which ones?”

“The ones driving the expensive cars! Wouldn’t you think that if they spent all of that money, they’d at least learn to drive properly?”

Long pause. With wealth does not come extra skill. It might not even come with extra responsibility. Wealth can either be earned or inherited. Those who inherit wealth don’t necessarily have the same level of accountability to protect it. The rest of us develop responsibility as we build our wealth. We realize the effort required to graduate to the next level. We are cautious to avoid setting ourselves backwards. It’s the process that enables us to do better.

Someone who has the wealth to simply purchase an expensive car is likely to be able to replace it if they crash. And if resolving a problem is not a challenge, why would we expect someone with wealth to be better? Better at what? Driving? Buying another fancy car? Covering up the mistake? Walking away?

This obviously does not speak to all car crashes, nor of the demolition of exotic cars. But if we consider the fact that someone’s life experience may impact the way they approach their problems, we might realize how important our own efforts are.

And so I warned my son that we don’t know the details. We don’t know their circumstances nor the specifics of their character. All we know is that if that were US, we’d have a long walk home.

How are you?

How are you?

Crazy?

Dismissive

Try not to call others “crazy” because it’s dismissive. It underestimates the power and the ability of the person being judged. To call someone crazy suggests that we don’t understand their plight.

Suspension of disbelief

When we take a moment to consider the possibilities, we realize that the norm is not absolute. A few steps further, we recognize that the lines between imagination and reality can be easily blurred. The limitations of our minds can stretch beyond fantasy. This is not crazy. It’s just different.

Clarity in a unclear world

The distractions are blinding. The noise drowns out the cues and the clues of normalcy. But it’s the normalcy that is the biggest blinder.

A perversion of thought

Perversions are rarely embraced. But without them, anomalies are all we have as evidence of the randomness of nature. Evolution is certain, but we have the ability to stimulate change.

To see something that others cannot see

Not everything is obvious. If we can’t count on some of us to discover what the rest of us are too inept to see, some things will remain un-found. The age of discovery was not a half millennium ago. It is still. It is now.

Clairvoyance when others are distracted and confused

In the midst of the chaos and confusion, some find solace and fortitude. What tires some, energizes others. Our functionality is as diverse as the clouds. This is not crazy.

To break barriers that others thought not possible

The trailblazers were once discouraged, ridiculed, and were thought to be crazy. They didn’t ask for permission. Nor did they apologize for their efforts. This is not crazy.

To be steadfast when others seek respite

The “stick-to-it-ness” characterizes those who refuse to be discouraged by the failures of others. Understand that someone else’s efforts do not define everyone else’s dedication. This is not crazy.

To rebel against the status quo

Those who have tried (and failed) make a decision whether or not to try again. The statistics do not deter. No, they merely reaffirm the importance of diligence. Challenge the beliefs of the world. Redefine what makes sense. Face fear! Reduce ignorance. Defy the odds. This is not crazy.

To strive for more; to be unsatisfied with less

Insatiable drive and blatant determination contradict sanity, but it’s not sane to expect something different without testing the limits. This is not crazy.

To be innovative and inventive

We celebrate the icons for their spirit. But not just because of who they were or what they did. We distinguish them because of how they did it. Whether it was to liberate our minds or encourage our spirits or demonstrate our physical abilities, those who do what others would not are NOT crazy.

Do not call others “crazy.” It’s dismissive. Don’t underestimate the power of the innovators just because you haven’t discovered what they have. Calling someone crazy suggests that we don’t understand their plight (yet). Instead give yourself the time that you need.

“What Is Dogecoin?”

VINELAND, NEW JERSEY (Michael Morton) May 9, 2021

Last night on SNL, Elon Musk publicly and deliberately decreased the value of e-currency. Although broadcast live and in real-time, the dialogue is scripted and practiced. And although the domestic stock market is closed on the weekend in the United States, world-wide markets reported a 40% drop in the value of Dogecoin in the hours after the show aired.

Is this coincidence? Investors know the trends and bank on them, literally. When politicians holding public office commit insider-trading, its unethically and potentially criminal. But what happens when non-affiliated traders have inside information and act upon it? This behavior must be challenged.

Last night’s poke at a humorous declaration, that “Dogecoin is a hustle!” was blatant. The fact that it was public merely serves as an alibi. The biggest laugh, however, is the fact that very few people will take it seriously until after the fact! The truth is that the writers knew what they were writing. Elon Musk knew what he was going to say. And their colleagues, investors, and “money people” all had an opportunity to plan for the reaction that this simple comment would have on world markets.

Not convinced? Consider this: today your dollar bill is worth 100 cents. Tomorrow is only worth 60 cents. Today your house is worth $100k. In less than 12 hours it is worth only $60k! Today you make your full wage. Tomorrow, you’ll only be paid for 60% for the work you just did. Expectations are fluid and volatile. And yet, we should expect to see this occur again…and again.

It’s a mockery. Did you catch it? This…is how the rich stay rich.

Stop Hitting the Snooze Button

The intervals between “snoozes” are getting shorter and shorter. The dreamy denial that drools from your creased lips has soaked your pillow. The gaslighting rebuttals that lulled you to sleep weren’t bright enough for a good 💡 idea.

You’ve slept through a pandemic, two very different types of riots, another gun debate, and the newest voter suppression. Like any other depression, you thought a “good night sleep” would erase all of your worries. You’ve grown so weary of the lies, manipulation, and politics that your slumber felt like a hibernation. But you are no bear!

You’re an ostrich—head buried deep in the ground. So when you’re sleeping, you can’t see the light. When you’re awake, you don’t see the light. Either way doesn’t make you too bright.

But the hint that you’re not astute unleashes a sleepy arrogance. You prepare your arguments using memes and zingy one-liners you once heard on the late show. Your untrained ears walk lockstep with your sleepy mind as you yearn of a time long ago that you never experienced.

You never stood a chance of making something great because you don’t know what great is. But your appalled now?!? Good! Be upset! Be so upset that you’re willing to do something about it.

But your fantasies and reminiscent meanderings make your eyes heavy (again). Who is this intended for? The racist, anti-racist, or the anti-racist activist??? Which shoe fits you best?

How many more episodes of injustice must you witness? How many more politicians will tell you to your face (through a big screen, of course) that they can do whatever they’d like without repercussions?

The “good ‘ol days” were 10 years ago—before black men were publicly slain. First by neighborhood watchmen and later by cops, who are we kidding? We fell asleep a long time ago. We had a chance to wake up, but we hit the snooze button.

Yes…we! I fell asleep right there along with you. I didn’t know enough to be sorry. I didn’t know my role yet. I didn’t take responsibility. None Of this makes sense. It didn’t then and it doesn’t now.

So while you wipe the sleepy dust from your eyes, throw me a fresh rag. Let’s get out of here. Let’s do something right (for a change). What are we waiting for?

Hey did you hear? After registering millions of eligible voters, inspiring a new generation of leaders, and flipping a state, Georgia was set back a hundred years with one swift flick of a pen. But we are still sleepy. Maybe someone else will set things straight. 🤦🏽‍♂️

Hey did you hear? Another gun-toting Ken shot up a neighborhood… No, not the one last week in Atlanta (where several Asian women were killed because the gunner was unsatisfied). A different gunman! This one shot up a grocery store in Colorado. It happened before any dust settled. It happened before any ashes became ashes. Both gunmen apprehended without a fatal shot from a cop. Fatal shot TO an officer, though. It’s been another sad week. 🥺 BUT a jury has finally been selected in the case where a cop plead not-guilty to kneeling on a black man’s neck for 8 minutes.

Who can’t breath now? Are you snoring or suffering from apnea. YOU are still living! Congratulations.

One wink and it all changed.

Your slumber has been shortened to catnaps. But you still sleep. Your REM sleep sets in moments after your big head hits the pillow. Each time the alarm sounds, you snort another “I don’t wanna…” and hit the snooze.

Do me a favor? WAKE UP! For EVERY action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction. But we haven’t seen nearly as many opposite REACTIONS yet. How much longer do you suppose it will be? You don’t want to wake up, but everyone else is awake. What you are seeing is not the result of Americans sleeping. Everybody discarded the clock and is waiting by the window, peeping out the curtain—some with weapons in hand.

Look at you in your night cap!

Union of One

Every dues paying union member has their own reason for joining a union. For most, their shop was a union shop before they were hired. It’s likely they had no choice. The dues were not negotiable but their benefits had already been negotiated.

Depending on the industry, a member could belong to any of the various types of unions. Labor unions and professional associations have but one thing in common: their advocacy for their members. Often, even non-dues paying members benefit from the working conditions and contracts that are negotiated in the work place that they share.

My father was in the Pipe and Steamfitters Union. My first real job mandated my membership in the United Food & Commercial Workers Union. On Labor Day following my high school graduation, the Governor presented a scholarship to me from the AFL-CIO. Shortly after I graduated from college, I became a member of the Probation Association of New Jersey. But because the union I had been in for nearly seven years provided me with safety, salary, and comfort, I held on just a little while longer. This time I was a member of TWO very different unions. I understood their value. It wasn’t long before I pushed limits in one and became the local president of another.

Despite basking in the love of union benefits his whole life, my father was not in love with union leadership. Sadly the very day I celebrated being elected as represent my union family, my own father died. The events all together left a marker on my heart and soul. In those moments, supporting unions was more than just patriotic (according to my father), it was necessary to thrive as a middle class worker.

At that pivotal moment, quitting my role as a union leader was not an option. But preserving my dignity was difficult, especially when my zest was challenged by management. But infants bite hard when cutting their teeth. I was no different! I grieved my losses and filed grievances for my union family.

But thinking I was advocating for them (as a leader) was a misnomer—a fallacy and an injustice. I fought hard not just because I could, but because I should. I fought hard for others because that’s what I would have wanted for me. Unsurprisingly, management’s only recourse was to offer me a position on their team. Of course I rejected their offer. But when I was more enthusiastic than the people I represented, it was no wonder that my efforts would eventually be in vain.

I became the office pariah, transferred, demoted, and stifled—an example to anyone else who spoke up and spoke out. Our union lawyers couldn’t build a case against management prerogative. When I left to another agency, all I brought with me was my pension. The contents of my desk have still not been recovered.

My next job cradled me in the comfort of the Clerical Workers Union. It was not ironic that my job entailed me preserving families in crisis. In fact, my clients were the same— just receiving different interventions. From my old role I was gone, but not out of sight.

Here, the clerks were the union leaders, advocating for the social workers who often found themselves in perilous conditions. They negotiated for their union brothers and sisters who worked longer hours and were often compensated accordingly. And yet they served at the whim of their managers on a daily basis. The skills required to manage these contrasting tasks simultaneously are uniquely keen. I was not equipped to lead, so I learned to follow.

Discontent in my job and a growing need to do more promoted me to become an educator. This led me to my current career. The cost of union membership was greater than I had ever been required to pay. I didn’t question it, but I learned over time how valuable those benefits could be. The amount of perseverance I endured was far greater than in my previous career. When I was finally able to question practices and policies that had been negotiated regularly, I was again preparing to lead.

Sometimes we don’t know our contract or our rights until they’ve been broken or withheld. Our growth is eminent but on par with our injury. I questioned authority. I was non-renewed a week later. Tenure is a bastard of a protection. It’s earned and not given. And many know the struggle. In that moment, I challenged management. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t fulfilling.

I recall that my supervisors comment was, “no bother, I wasn’t going to recommend you for tenure anyway…”

My response, “…no bother, I wasn’t going to recommend you for Supervisor of the Year.”

Forgetting that I did not work in the private sector, I attempted to speak with my supervisor’s boss for clarity. How could I have forgotten to seek my union first? My shop stewart reminded me shortly after my reprimand. For the record, I won’t sign write-ups. 🤪

Humbled, it took me years to muster the courage to speak up again for general principle. But it wasn’t long before my professional ethics were challenged by a relentless manager. I don’t know why it took so long for me to realize that managers and worker bees do not share the same objectives. Obedient bees make the honey. Insistent managers make the money.

Once again in my career, I did not expedite a command of my boss quickly enough. This resulted in me needing my union representative. I was being written-up for not writing-up a student (instead of teaching my class like I was hired to do). A week later, contracts were renewed and I missed the cut (again).

But what I learned this time was that bridges will be crossed again. I did not fight. I did not resist. I waited. I was rehired and I flourished. As a ten-month employee, I manage to endure about eight months before that chip on my shoulder gets too heavy.

I encountered that boss that was my previous supervisor. She was surprised to see me again. She greeted me. What she said next, I can’t be sure whether it was for me or her own edification.

“I just want you to know that the decision to let you go last year had nothing to do with me writing you up,” she said with a smile.

I hadn’t a union rep or even a good friend to keep me from saying what I said next, “please remember that you never know what someone is going to endure next. Keep THAT in mind the next time you reprimand someone!”

Two years later she was my supervisor again. She was incorrigible and relentless. It was not time for me to rely on my union. Instead it was time for me to invoke the powers of the union.

This is not simply a matter of chatting with my labor rep, or reviewing the contract, or even becoming union leadership. No! It was time to engage, get involved, learn, practice, read, DO!

Every time I was counseled, reprimanded, warned, coached, threatened, written-up…these all became badges of courage. Written warnings? I had a lot of them. None of them subjective. All of them resulted from my refusal to bow down.

I have had several different supervisors since. Although my work location doesn’t change anymore, the circumstances in my work spaces evolve annually. I’ve seen many bosses come and go. The working conditions don’t always improve.

I don’t request grievances be filed (nor do I file them myself). I don’t help negotiate policy or contracts even though I help others understand the process. Instead I go to profession developments. I go to leadership conferences and delegate assemblies. I listen to related conflicts and advocate for my colleagues. I don’t just create change. I empower others!

To be an employee anywhere us to endure unpleasant working conditions. To be a union member means that you have support to address those working conditions. Every union member can recall “that moment” when the contract was compromised. Every union leader can recall “that moment” when a manager provoked them enough to get more involved. We all have our stories. What is yours?