Monday, February 21, 2011

the one where I remembered what I wanted to say too late to be coherent

One of the lovely things about Facebook is that we can have discussions about things that matter to us if we choose to engage. I rarely post controversial status updates or links on my Facebook. I have little more than 100 friends on there, about a third of them under 18. I'm not a boat rocker or a rabble rouser, though I have high aspirations of changing that about myself before I die. When I'm in my 60s, I plan to be delightfully charismatic and radical. I have eight years to achieve that goal.

I posted a link to an article about why the teachers in Wisconsin are so enraged about Gov. Walker's attempt to shut down most of their rights to collective bargaining. I tend to be supportive of teachers, partly because I have a lot of close, close friends who teach in the public school system, love their jobs, love the kids they teach, are an asset to our country, and partly because we have been lucky, and our daughter has only had a few bad teachers (she has one this year who breaks my heart because she's an English teacher and makes my daughter hate English).

Wisconsin is not Ohio, and it's not Texas. When my friend from Texas writes about her difficulties trying to advocate for her dyslexic children, not stupid, not lazy, just learning challenged (normal learning, anyway), I don't want her to feel shut down because I have so many friends who are teachers. She knows what she knows. They know what they know. I know what I know. We all make assumptions based on our experiences. Our experiences are true, at least for us. I think hearing each other's experiences can do more good than harm.

I'm happy that my friends tend to be polite, civil, passionate, but not rude. That's how we can get things done.

I worry when friends feel the need to delete their own comments because they assume I have more teacher friends than parent friends (my teacher friends are just more vocal than my parent friends. Also have parent friends who teach). Don't delete yourself. Just don't. We all need to use our voices, tell our stories so that we can understand more how to help our children, all of our children.

Off the soapbox now. Local schools are on two-hour delays for tomorrow; some are closed. None of it will affect me since my daughter is at her dad's.

No comments:

Post a Comment