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Capitol Comment
The teacher who kicked the hornet’s nest
ATPE members, this could be you; think about it
by brock gregg, atpe governmental relations director
Sweat trickled down her neck as she stood in the ornate hallway. She felt like a caricature of the reluctant heroine—caught up in the action by circumstances beyond her control, the future of her professional life in the balance, her personal life put aside. She was dangerously close to overload.
Normally she was a fourth-grade teacher peddling “old-timey imagination” to 9-year-olds with multimedia minds. She enjoyed her work—even grading the same paper 22 times—because she loved seeing a light bulb come on in students’ minds. But each year, as poverty levels increased and students’ social skills decreased, she saw more children slip away before she could spark their curiosity. Now they wanted to make it worse.
So, here she stood, transformed into an outspoken political operative fielding late-night calls from lobbyists, decoding cryptic political-speak, and stalking legislators and journalists. She proceeded with a rapid-fire intensity driven by the insatiable desire to seek equal opportunities for all children. Her devotion to the cause only grew in proportion to her frustration with a system seemingly devoid of justice—and overwhelmed by money, money, money.
She reflected on the past year while weighing her expectations for her last meeting. It had started with a headline: “Desperate for dollars, Legislature to squeeze more children into classrooms.” Out loud, she had exclaimed, “Not on my watch!” She had gathered colleagues, called up her professional association and asked for help. Then, with a passion previously unknown, she committed to doing whatever it took to let them know how devastating this idea would be for the children.
Her group of educator-advocates donated their hard-earned money to help candidates who pledged to fight for them. They pushed one consistent message: “Class size matters—[Insert your child’s name here.]” They block-walked and phone-banked. Many of their chosen candidates won, and her passion intensified
Then the legislative session started. It got ugly. The educator-advocates spent hours pleading their case. She had handled
their arguments with common sense, stuck to asking “What if it were your child or grandchild?” and marched on.
One of them tried to trick her into saying 22:1 was an arbitrary number—that it had little relationship to student achievement, that data showed a highly effective teacher had far more impact on test scores, and that the optimal number was 15:1. Her answer had surprised him. “Yes,” she agreed. “That’s what I have been trying to say. Effective teachers can work miracles if we’re given the time to do the job.” But she disagreed that test scores were the best measure of success. “You can only get them to love learning if you can get inside their heads, and that takes individual attention—that’s just common sense.
“Almost everyone believes there is an optimal class size for learning but that it varies depending upon a host of factors. But who believes the optimal class size for any elementary class is above 22 students?”
They had no answer.
Then they talked about flexibility. She asked why it was a problem. Flexibility already existed—no request for a class-size waiver had been turned down in more than a decade.
It got uglier. They had her followed. She knew the other side visited every office as soon as she walked out to remind legislators they were in danger of giving opponents the ability to call them budget-busters. Still, she persevered.
And so she arrived at today. She had to enter his office, her last chance, unseen. Her sources had told her the deciding vote in the Senate would take place today—and that they were one vote away.
Her senator smiled as she entered the room. He recognized her from her many visits, and he had always been straight with her. He had told her he would vote for the budget, not for the children. She looked him in the eye, preparing for his inevitable answer. But before she could speak, he said, “Didn’t you once teach with my daughter-in-law?” “Yes, sir,” she replied. He continued, “Well, I’m going to be a granddaddy for the first time.” “You don’t say,” she replied. Now he smiled big. “Yes—and, get this, it’s twins!”
Then he leaned forward and said, “Yes ma’am—and like you said, now it’s personal, times two.” Before she could ask for his vote, he ushered her out with a twinkle in his eye. She watched him walk to the Senate to listen to his heart.
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