We were driving home down I-5 a few weeks ago when Freebird came on the radio. So I turned it up, since that’s what you’re supposed to do, and began to sing. There I was, a middle-aged, suburban man, singing Rock and Roll’s quintessential anthem of existential freedom while driving my family of four down the highway in a Dodge Caravan. It didn’t matter; at that moment I was a Freebird.
But apparently the irony wasn’t lost on the ghosts of Lynyrd Skynyrd. For it was at the song’s climatic moment, where all three guitars are going after it full-tilt, that our mini-van’s fuel pump stopped doing that for which it is named. And if those dead old boys had something to do with it, I can’t blame them. We coasted to the shoulder as the song ended. I was no longer a Freebird.
Ten days and a new fuel pump later, I received two messages. One was from our mechanic and the other from my school district’s central office.
The mechanic left a voice mail. Apparently, we didn’t pay the sales tax on our bill. I checked it, and sure enough, they had written the tax amount below the sub-total, but failed to add it up. Despite my first impulse, cooler heads (my wife’s) prevailed, and we decided (she decided) that we should pay the tax, even though it was their mistake. And we should. After all, the mechanic held up his end of the contract and he shouldn’t be expected to work for free. He should not be expected to be a Freebird.
The message from the district came by email. We’re adopting a new literacy curriculum next year and there will be two days of training in August so that we can learn how to use it. But they can’t afford to pay us. We will, however, receive clock hours. Clock hours have some value, I suppose, but when you’ve taught for 26 years and have a masters degree and a National Board certificate, they’re barely worth the effort it takes to fill in the form. And you can’t use them to buy new fuel pumps.
The training, of course, is optional, but highly recommended. I understand the position in which the district finds itself. They’ve been planning to roll out the new adoption for several years and training was always in the budget. Then the budget went south and it’s all they can do to buy the books. I’m going because I think I need to be there. Teaching literacy is important. It consumes over half of my work day, and I like to be able to do it correctly. It’s that simple.
But just like the mechanic, I’d sure like to be paid for my time.
On the other hand, come August, while I’m sitting in a stuffy conference room learning how to teach reading in exchange for clock hours, I can finally, and honestly, call myself a Freebird.
Excited to participate in the Ed Sector event with you next week, Tom. Utterly apropos to this post is the extended conversation in which I had to engage with my HR department in order to be allowed paid time to go down to Washington DC (I am missing my last day of school). It took some doing. A year or so ago, when I blogged the ASCD conference, I was also unpaid.
Pay is not the reason we do what we do. Neither is food. But we need both. You know?
Nice quote, Pezz, but a little too “Book Club” for a post that features Lynyrd Skynyrd, doncha think!?
I hear you, Kristin; I’ve been to some horrible trainings in my day. But I’ve also been to some great trainings, and our district generally does a pretty good job. On the other hand, if it gets too boring I won’t feel bad about grabbing the handouts and materials and running for freedom!
We are also encouraged to attend two days of training this summer. My district is paying us to attend the trainings, which I appreciate. I still might not go, though, because I have a hard time with trainings in general. I don’t want to spend two days learning what could be explained in forty minutes. It kills me to show up on time and wait for stragglers, to have the inevitable introductions and ice-breakers, and then be put into groups to come at our understanding in some sideways creative way instead of simply being told, quickly and efficiently. I’m a grown up. Show me how you want the literacy aligned and I’ll find a way to make it work in my classroom. I don’t need colorful post-it notes, markers, and butcher paper. I don’t need a gallery walk or to listen to each group share out their work. It’s frustrating and frankly, a little embarrassing. So, I’m the party-pooper bird.
We do a lot for free, that’s for sure. It’s too bad that most people who end up in our business have such good hearts, and all it takes is a batting of eyelashes and an “it’s what’s best for kids” and we end up caving.
I would probably be at that training as well, if I were in your position. I’ve gone to many a meeting (or whatever) that was beyond my contract. Usually, I’m glad I went. Occasionally, I feel a bit exploited, but usually I’m glad I went.
My first thought after your last line was this: “I know why the caged bird sings.” 🙂