Blog Reactivated! My Journey to a Hysterectomy: Prologue

Hi, all. I’m back. It’s been a while, because I’ve been dealing with graduate school, a diagnosis of multiple sclerosis, and buying a condo.

It’s been a roller coaster ride.

Most recently, things are taking a wonderful upturn in that I’m scheduled to get a hysterectomy in early June. This might not sound at first like an upturn, but I have been trying to get this surgery for a little over a decade. It’s been a long journey to get to this point, and it’s going to be quite a trip going through the surgery and recovery.

Given the degree to which there are social justice issues of feminism and disability rights involved in my case, I’m going to blog it all here, among other entries, in the hope that perhaps someone else out there might not have to invent the same wheel. This entry can be considered a prologue of sorts: how I got here, what the last twenty years of my reproductive health have been like, why it is so important for people like me to be able to have access to this kind of care, and what has kept me from having it until now, and what finally made it possible.

Content Warning: Discussion of female anatomy, in graphic and unpleasant detail. Discussion of gynecological problems, in graphic and unpleasant detail. Description of medical abuse. Ableism, sexism, ageism, all of which are internalized, active, and institutional. Reminder: I refer to these things as “content warnings” rather than “trigger warnings,” because I do not take responsibility for the mental health of my readers, some of whom I do not know well. I have listed the warnings that jumped out at me, but I may have missed something. I do not take responsibility for knowing the inside of anyone’s mind other than my own. Also, all experiences are mine and mine alone, and may not be suitable for generalizing to any larger group.

The Early Days

I started menstruating late for people my age, late age 13, almost 14. My parents went out of their way to make it an affirming, empowering experience. It might have worked if I hadn’t started displaying similar symptoms to my mother – heavy bleeding, awful cramps, nausea and illness, unreliable cycles – from the very beginning. I started taking hormone treatments before I was 15.

I don’t know when I first started missing classes because of period symptoms, but it was before college. It can be hard to tell, even in retrospect, because it was also around this time that my health in general started to decline. As my gynecological symptoms got worse, though, which they did gradually year by year and sometimes even month by month, I missed more classes. Fortunately, I attended a women’s college, where people usually understood this, but because I didn’t have an actual diagnosis for any of my health problems, I wasn’t able to receive any accommodations, and my grades suffered.

I was constantly faced with skepticism regarding my experiences, except by my fantastic primary care physician and gynecologist. Specialists were convinced I was exaggerating. Insurance companies refused to cover tests, because I was “too young” to be experiencing chronic pain. And, though my gynecologist tried to get me tested for a number of things, insurance companies would not even consider any kind of testing that could lead to an intervention, because I was now considered to be “of childbearing age,” once I was 15 years old.

College, Graduate School, and Getting Married

I made it through college – barely. My gynecological problems were just a subset of my larger health issues, which still had no names attached. I started to learn during my college years just how dismissive emergency room physicians could be of a woman’s pain.

During my senior year of college, I participated in a health study, designed to help improve the bedside manner of young male doctors working with female patients. I was asked to submit a recording of a detailed description of my menstrual symptoms for use in their training program, which I did, in exchange for $50 and the knowledge that perhaps it might make a difference.
Only it didn’t, because they rejected my sample on the grounds that my description might scare the young male doctors.

This was when I first started realizing how broken our system is. Here is a rough approximation of the description I gave:

“In the week before my period begins, I experience depression, mood swings, anger, anxiety, and general peak reactions to all stimuli. It feels as though, if there were a volume knob on the world, it has been turned all the way up. Colors are bright enough to hurt, everything sounds loud, my skin feels everything more sensitively, and I get overstimulated in minutes. This then becomes even more intense on the first day of my period, finally calming down around the third or fourth day. During the first few days of my period, I usually feel an intense need to close myself in a small space for safety.
I haven’t ruined a pair of underwear in years. In addition to getting plenty of warning from PMS, when I start menstruating, I know it, because I feel a tearing sensation deep inside me, just above the center of my pubic bone, followed by an intense nerve pain going all the way out along my pelvis. I then experience what feels very much like the entire contents of my abdomen falling out, along with more tearing. I start bleeding intensely, usually going through menstrual products at two to three times the rate listed on the box. I bleed for about a week, with these symptoms constant throughout. I experience intermittent nausea, headaches, full body aches as if I have the flu, spasms in my arms and legs, and dizziness and blurred vision. About once a year, the bleeding gets intense enough that I pass out, or the pain gets bad enough that I can’t hold back vocalizing it, and I go to the hospital.”

Apparently male doctors can’t handle this information. The word “traumatized” was actually used in the feedback I received from the program.

If the people in whose hands I must put my healthcare decisions might be “traumatized” by my experiences, and this is considered a valid reason to discard my testimony, I thought, this explains so much about everything that has happened to me so far.

I started watching for signs of this disregard in the system, and it immediately leapt out. I couldn’t un-see it. I worried that perhaps I was acting on confirmation bias, and I tried to un-see it. I must be overreacting, I thought. I was being overemotional, irrational, refusing to take responsibility for my own problems.

I started doing research, and found that, in fact, my case wasn’t even unusual, much less unique.

My health continued to decline as I completed an intensive Master’s degree program, and I started the work of educating the men in my life, most importantly my husband-to-be, about these problems. Initially, I ran headlong into the stigma surrounding women’s health, but he was fantastic about breaking down those barriers for himself as well as me. It took work, before he was able to go down the family planning and women’s health aisle of a pharmacy and get my products without being embarrassed, but he laughed at himself until he managed – and the effects of that work have lasted through today, when he can roll his eyes right along with me at guys looking furtively around or even apologizing to cashiers while buying boxes of tampons.

The other, even more important, support he gave me was these three words: “I believe you.” He didn’t necessarily understand, and it took some work to really make that communication happen, but he was willing to start from the assumption that I was telling the truth, which was more than most of the people in my life, and more than almost any health care professionals, were willing to do.

The Last Ten Years

A few years into my marriage, in late 2006, I discovered I was pregnant, in just about the most traumatic way possible: I miscarried.

I thought at first it was just a really awful period; I was miscarrying early enough that the two were almost indistinguishable. I took a pregnancy test when it got bad enough that it was notably different from previous really bad periods, and it came back positive. And we went to the emergency room.

First, the people at the desk belittled my concerns, and I passed out on the emergency room floor from the bleeding.

I woke up in a bed in the emergency room, and the doctor proceeded to tell me I had fainted from the sight of my own blood, as if I hadn’t seen it every month for the previous twelve years.

He refused to let me see the hospital’s gynecologist, and said he would do the pelvic exam himself. I refused, and he told me I didn’t have a choice, and said he would have nurses hold me down while he performed the exam. Rather than do that, I let him – and it took almost a decade before I fully realized or admitted to myself that this was abuse and assault.

He then diagnosed me with hysteria.

Let me say that again.

He formally diagnosed me with hysteria. In 2006.

I was furious. I had connections with the hospital through my father-in-law, who ensured that this doctor lost his job. (Unfortunately, I discovered through a car accident about eighteen months later, he found a job at another hospital nearby. I made sure he lost that one too, because he handled my car accident about as well as he handled my miscarriage. I have no idea where he is now.)

About a year before this, my actual gynecologist had retired, after being diagnosed with breast cancer. She had done amazing work for many years, and earned her retirement, and I wish her all the best, but I still mourn the fact that I can’t work with her anymore.

I looked for a new gynecologist, and saw several, all with the same results: they see “fibromyalgia” on my chart, and immediately dismiss any and all claims I make. They would not give me painkillers for my symptoms, even non-opioid ones. They would not give me muscle relaxers for my cramps. They would not give me anti-nausea medications. And they certainly wouldn’t consider a hysterectomy, even though the final recommendation from my previous gynecologist had been to work toward one as soon as I turned 35, the age at which insurance companies would finally consider covering the surgery.

Where I Am Today

As a result of the MS and aftereffects of a concussion in 2013, I have a sleep disorder. I sleep a lot, and very deeply. One quirk of this is that pain sometimes shows up in my dreams, in some narrative form that interrupts whatever was happening.

I have had repeated dreams in the last year while menstruating, in which I get shot in the abdomen. Recently, there was a twist in this, that I had to have surgery, an emergency hysterectomy. I woke up sobbing, because it was not real. My husband held me while I cried for over an hour, repeating “I want it gone.”

By telling that dream to the my primary care physician at the right time, I finally managed to get a recommendation for a doctor who specializes in getting women the healthcare they need.

It turns out that doctors are faced with similar weaponized statistics as teachers: certain outcomes are categorized as “failures,” even if the patient feels otherwise, and a certain proportion of failures on a doctor’s record can put their license in jeopardy. (I am terrified of this happening to my primary care physician.) I have tried everything other than surgery, at this point, and even doctors who have admitted that it is probably what I need have then sent me away because they could not perform it.

I now work with a gynecologist who recently put together a practice entirely out of experienced doctors who can afford those “failures” on their records, and have decided as a group to take those on, in order to give patients the healthcare they need, and when they eventually build up enough failures that their licenses are revoked, they’ll be old enough for retirement. In the meantime, they’re racking up awards alongside the black marks, which means they’ll be able to last longer.

I have a hysterectomy scheduled at the beginning of June. I have never been happier about medical news.

It should not have taken me twenty years to get the surgery I need, first until some arbitrary group of insurers decided I was old enough that I might not change my mind, and then until I found a doctor who could afford to have “gave effective care to a patient in pain” on their record.

This attitude also further stigmatizes chronic health problems that can cause a woman to be unable to bear children, through hysterectomy or otherwise. In my case, literally the worst possible outcome was considered to be “woman is unable to have children.” Not “woman dies of excessive bleeding on emergency room floor,” which has nearly happened on several occasions, not “woman is disabled by gynecological symptoms,” which would be true even if my other health problems magically vanished tomorrow, or even “woman’s quality of life is drastically reduced by chronic pain.” My decisions about what should be prioritized in my health care were disregarded at every turn, until yesterday.

And now I still have to jump through administrative hoops to get everything covered, and make sure that I receive the care I need surrounding my surgery (e.g., make sure the hospital will give me painkillers afterward, since I have fibromyalgia and am therefore considered a drug seeker by definition, as I discovered the last time I was hospitalized).

This is, as my new gynecologist put it, “unconscionable.” And I am one of the lucky ones: I can afford my health care, I can advocate for myself, and I am supported.

I am thrilled and excited that this change in my life is about to happen. I want this so desperately I don’t have words for it. I cried all over my new gynecologist when he told me I could have the surgery. I am aware of the dangers and risks of surgery, but I have no qualms about this course of action.

This is right for me. It is so important that I be able to pursue it. It’s an amazingly novel feeling, being in control of such an important aspect of my health, and I am trying to remember to take the time to revel in it.

I am proud of this accomplishment. It has been a long road to get here, and I’m not done yet.

I am not a failure on the part of my doctor.

I am not broken.

I am not incomplete.

I am not a tragedy.

I will bear my battle scars proudly.

Straddling the Privilege Line: Thoughts on Intersectionality

CONTENT WARNING: Discussions of various kinds of discrimination in the entry and probably the comments as well..

In the wake of the deaths of Michael Brown and Eric Garner, and in the wake of the Rolling Stone journalistic debacle concerning the rape culture at UVA, I have been doing a lot of thinking about the ways in which I benefit from privilege, and the ways in which I do not, and the ways in which those things intersect. There are a number of ways in which I personally have benefited greatly from the cultures of power that come with my race and financial background and education, but at the same time have suffered for my gender, disability, and religion. As I consider these items individually, I also realize the ways in which they intersect with one another. Intersectionality is taking center stage in more discussions of privilege, which is great, but there is one type of intersectionality which I haven’t seen discussed elsewhere, which I will be attempting to discuss at least somewhat here: the intersection of privilege and lack of privilege, in the same person. This is sufficiently complicated that a single blog entry, even the full biography of a single person far more complex than I, can’t even begin to cover it, but I’m hoping to at least get some readers thinking, maybe get some discussion rolling.

I have to begin by listing some of the ways in which I am, and am not, privileged in my own life. Compiling this list took some serious soul-searching, and some careful thinking about detail, and some research. Some of these items were obvious; others, not so much.

Ways in which I am privileged:
I am white.
I am cisgendered.
I am straight.
I am monosexual.
I am a native speaker of the local vernacular.
I am monoracial.
I can read and write.
I speak without impediment.
I can use all five senses to a societally functional degree.
I have a fixed address.
I have a driver’s license and a personal vehicle.
I am married.
I am in a monogamous relationship.
I am in a same-race relationship.
My age is between 18 and 50.
I have a college education, and an advanced degree.
I was raised by my biological parents.
I am a natural-born citizen of the nation in which I live.

Ways in which I am not privileged:
I am female.
I am physically disabled.
I have a mild learning disability.
I have a mild mental illness.
I have no children, either biologically or by adoption.
I am unable to have children biologically.
I wear glasses, and am unable to wear corrective lenses that are not visible.
I am non-Christian.
My spirituality is hybrid – meaning, I identify with more than one faith.
I am in a multifaith marriage.
I do not own a residential property.
I am a teacher, an occupation which is under constant political attack.
I am a union member, a position which is under constant political attack.
I am unemployed.
My field of study is outside the STEM fields, the “core” curriculum fields, and the vocational fields.
My Southern heritage is identifiable by my accent.
I am overweight.
I have obvious Russian heritage.

I am sure that if I took months, years longer to write this list, I could continue to add to both parts of it. I am sure that some readers are looking at some items on it and wondering, why does this item afford privilege, or why does that item imply a lack of privilege. If so, feel free to ask.

I’m also sure that there are some of you out there who are bristling because you share some of the traits on the “privileged” list, or who do not share some trait on the “not privileged” list. Let me make something clear to you: I do not apologize for any of the traits on either list. These are simply descriptors of who I am. For example, I do not feel that I need to apologize for being either white or straight. Neither makes me a bad person. But both make me a person who inherently befits from systems created for the benefit of people like me, at the expense of people who do not share those specific traits. I do not have to feel shame at being white in order to acknowledge my white privilege; I do not have to feel guilt at being straight in order to acknowledge my straight privilege. You don’t either. I don’t think you have anything to apologize for by virtue of your gender, or race, or sexual orientation. Your actions and attitudes are what matter, and the same goes for me. For a great reference on this, see John Scalzi’s article “Straight White Male: The Lowest Difficulty Setting There Is,” here. The article misses some complexities of privilege, and many, many types thereof (there are many types of privilege besides sexual orientation, race, and gender) but it’s just meant to be a starting point, and it’s a great one.

Having traits that fall on both sides of the privilege line gives me a very important obligation when dealing with issues in my life: I have to figure out which issues are at play. It is important, in order to make sure that I don’t take a passive (or even an active) role in institutional racism, that I take care not to appropriate issues of race as issues of gender, or disability, when supporting a friend who is targeted with discrimination. It is also important that I be careful not to misinform others, lest I put them in a position of inadvertently doing the same for some other issue, when I speak of discrimination of which I have myself been the target.

I believe it is also vital that society begin to acknowledge the ways in which items of privilege can actually intensify the ways in which lack of privilege affects certain individuals. A high-profile example in recent news has been the scapegoating of union workers in the aftermath of the Eric Garner case. The generalized anger at the miscarriage of justice has been directed at unions, which are already the target of a significant amount of rhetoric aimed at reducing their power and staining the reputation of all those associated with them, placing those who participate in any form of organized labor, particularly those in any part of the public sector, in a position of lack of privilege. Law enforcement, as authority figures, are also given a form of privilege, and as such, this intensifies the anger at the role of the unions in such problematic cases.

A more common situation of combined privilege and lack, where the latter is intensified by the former, is one I find myself in. I benefit from the privilege of my age. Being between the ages of 18 and 50, I am part of the age bracket which is the target of most marketing. Television ratings focus on my age group. Political advertising and polling look more closely at my opinions than at the opinions of those outside my group (though this is changing – more on this shortly). At the same time, because I am unable to have children, the fact that I am in the age when I am constantly asked when I will be bringing the next generation into the world, when, as a woman, I am seen as failing to fulfill my obligations to society on some level because I am unable to have children, my age actually makes that part of my lack of privilege more intense. I have actually seen this come up in a professional scenario: for various reasons, I had to reveal to one of my superiors exactly why I had been absent from work and in the hospital, and when the reason turned out to be related to gynecology and miscarriage, my right to confidentiality was in fact completely disregarded. For months, I was treated differently by everyone who knew, as if my failure to have children meant that I was less competent at everything else I might do; once I was even told to my face, in public, that perhaps, if I couldn’t have children of my own, I shouldn’t be supervising other people’s kids, because there was no way I would ever fully understand them. If my age were not within the bracket when I am “expected” to produce children, this would not have been an issue. I know many other women who have gone through similar experiences.

Another aspect of the privilege discussion which I feel has gone woefully unremarked, is the degree to which some of these categories are in flux. The degree to which it matters that I am obviously Russian changes with global culture and politics. Overall, age is gradually becoming less of an issue, though nowhere near quickly enough. Particularly in the marketing arena, companies and campaigns are realizing that focusing exclusively on the 18-50 bracket is self-defeating, and are branching out. Unfortunately, workplace discrimination and other forms of abuse against both children and older citizens are still far too rampant. It is my hope that the pervasiveness of marketing will actually be a force for good in this particular case, and that marketers’ realization that people of other ages are also people with their own needs and desires and complex lives, will push the same realization on the rest of the public.

One of the most interesting parts of the realization of the divided issues of privilege and lack, is the visibility of different kinds of progress. So many different campaigns, with different degrees of success, at different stages of development, are available for observation, study, and, of course, participation and support. It’s delightful to watch new groups emerge as their issues are finally acknowledged by enough people to from a widely visible activist community, and it’s exciting to learn those new perspectives. All of these groups are doing things differently, and we all have things we can learn from each other – but only if we maintain a clear awareness of what is really going on with all of our lives, even when that involves some unpleasant mirror-gazing.

School Shootings: The View from a Comic Book Written in 1999 and Re-Read in 2014

Author’s Note: This is disturbing. School shootings and violent deaths of children under discussion. I hope the fact that this subject even exists makes you angry and upset whether you agree with my points or not. Also contains discussion of teenage depression and mental health crises.

I wish desperately that this entry were irrelevant to any issue that could possibly exist today. I wish to dedicate this discussion to all of those who are survivors, and non-survivors, of the kind of hopelessness and senselessness discussed here.

Let’s go back in time to 1999, to late April. The worst school shooting in American history (at the time) had just occurred, and the nation was reeling, trying to make sense of the tragedy. Only, that’s the nature of tragedy, isn’t it – its randomness, the fact that we feel so helpless in the face of it. Writer Warren Ellis judged, quite correctly, that this combination of emotions, mixed with a dose of “horror is other people,” would make for a spectacular Hellblazer issue. At the same time, Marvel Comics had already announced their bold initiative, dealing with teenage deaths in as many series as possible in the upcoming month, and printing the covers of all their series in plain black for one issue (I will never forget walking into Showcase Comics in Bryn Mawr, PA and seeing the wall of black-covered comics to my left, a couple of weeks later).

DC Comics refused to publish the issue, perpetuating (in part – it was already brewing, to some extent) Ellis’ departure from the title. I wondered, at the time, what he’d had to say, and imagined it would hit home. A year later, I found out I was right when I managed to get my hands on black and white scans, read them in my dorm room, and wept for about an hour.

That was a scary time to be both a geek and a teacher in training. Students were being suspended from school for carrying comics in their backpacks. The “video games cause violent behavior” street-corner soapbox became a pulpit-and-microphone, with news coverage. There was talk of including intrusive investigation into personal hobbies and interests in the certification and background check process for new teachers, to ensure that “potential threats” among schoolchildren wouldn’t be overlooked in our country’s halls of learning.

At the same time, part of me wished they were right, even if I knew they weren’t. I wished it were just the comics, or the video games, because it would mean it was just one thing, that there was a magic wand that could be waved, some, dare I say, X-factor, that could be added or subtracted to fix the violence and safety issues and make our schools better places. I knew then that it wasn’t so simple, and I had high hopes that would be understood.

I didn’t realize how deep the nation’s misunderstanding of our teenagers really ran.

I also didn’t realize, until I reread the issue very recently after ten years of teaching experience, just how much Warren Ellis understood. Because damn, that is one of the finest issues of Hellblazer ever written, now that DC Comics has finally had the guts to go back and publish it as part of the “Shoot” trade paperback under the series title Vertigo Resurrected. It stands the test of time better than I think anyone hoped it would. I wish everything written in it had turned out to be wrong.

For those who haven’t read it, a brief summary: a woman named Penny Carnes (who only appears in this issue) is tasked with analysis of video and audio material of incidents of mass violence, to search for common factors. The one item she finds in multiple videos is the presence of our protagonist, John Constantine. She is startled when he turns up at her office but he reassures her that he intends her no harm. He explains that he has been at the scenes of several of these crime scenes in the aftermath as a favor to a recently bereaved friend looking to make personal sense of his own loss. When it becomes apparent that Carnes’ work has not given her any real insight, he becomes angry and points out that the common denominator in all of the incidents is a sense of desperation and meaninglessness in the lives of both the perpetrators and the victims.

The first point “Shoot” brings home lies in its very summary: note the complete lack of anything remotely supernatural. This is a comic about supernatural horror, but in this case, nothing supernatural could be remotely as terrifying as the facts, so Ellis made the smart decision and left them alone.

The second point I see in “Shoot,” which I have never seen made anywhere else, is the conflation of school shootings with other forms of mass violence, not just gun rampages but others as well. There is a clear reference in the comic to some of the mass religious suicides that occurred in the 1990’s. I don’t think I’d ever thought of them as symptoms of the same societal illness, and I appreciate that Warren Ellis doesn’t try to say they’re entirely the same thing, because they’re obviously not, in a number of ways. But he does point out, correctly, that they do have certain commonalities, lying in a cultural illness.

Constantine’s rant at Carnes is one of the greatest sequences in Hellblazer, if not in all of American comics. I’m just going to quote it here, though without the visuals I can’t do it full justice:

“I see kids in a schoolyard in some dead-end hole of a town in some asshole county in some crumbling state with no education and no hope and no future and they’re waiting. They’re just standing there. Born into a life that’s already slid out of view. Looking forward to turning out just like their mommies and daddies. Life already lived for them. Life in a world mommy and daddy couldn’t be arsed to build properly, a world that makes no fucking sense. A world where kids actually go to special classes to learn to recognize real emotions and body language because they were raised by the television. They’re only kids, for Christ’s sake. This is the best response they can manage to the insane fucking world they’re in.”

I know I wouldn’t have wanted to hear that about America’s teenagers in 1999.

I was a student teacher in 2002 the first time I noticed a student with long, bleeding cut marks on her arm. My first year of teaching was the first time I actually had a student come to me to say, “I need help. I think I might hurt myself if I go home by myself today.” It was only one year later after that, that I had a student in my classroom publicly threaten to hurt others, in a manner that brought in the FBI, among others, and it turned out to be a good thing it was reported. My fifth year of teaching was the first time I had a student whisper to me at graduation, “I wouldn’t have survived high school without your support,” and mean it – the proudest moment of my career to date. My seventh year of teaching was the first time I lost a student to a drug overdose, possibly deliberate.

This is all far, far too common. Our nation’s teenagers lead incredibly difficult lives, with traumas they should never have to experience. This occurs against a backdrop of a mechanical system that, except in very good cases, seeks to churn out productive members of society in a specific set of molds. Let me be clear that this is not a condemnation of public schools; private, charter, homeschooling, etc., all other models are just as bad about this, except in the best of situations. And obviously those situations exist, or we’d be much worse off than we are. There are wonderful schools of all kinds, and wonderful homeschooling parents, out there. But the vast majority are falling through the cracks of a system that isn’t honoring them as individuals, in spite of the best of intentions of the people working in that system, whichever type of system it may be.

That sense of being a cog in a much larger machine, is something of which numerous students have spoken to me over the years. I think it’s the single most dangerous thing about our current system, and the most insidious effect of our current plague of over-testing. It’s the one thing that brings together the cases of the isolated and estranged young people who perpetrate some cases of school violence with the cases of popular and successful young people who perpetrate others. And the scariest thing is that there’s no way to fix it. I mentioned over-testing, but eliminating standardized tests today wouldn’t fix this, even if it might help. Lowering class sizes this instant wouldn’t fix this, though it might help. Giving teachers professional respect and professional salaries and giving schools sufficient resources overnight wouldn’t fix this, although it might help. Rearranging our priorities concerning education in this country with the wave of a magic wand wouldn’t even fix it, but it might help. It would take a combination of all these things, plus a concerted effort on the part of every single person involved in raising our young people, plus more things that in all likelihood nobody’s even thought of because the environment for them to show up properly has never really existed, for this problem to be fixed in its entirety – and it’s getting worse, as we spend time focusing just as much on the guns as on the people, arguing with biased and bought research whether it’s better to arm everybody or to arm nobody, when the guns are frankly not the only issue at hand.

And, with some delightful exceptions, we waste our time talking about single issues in sound bites and 140-character microblog entries, trying to find that one thing that will make the problem go away, preferably without raising our expenses.

To quote “Shoot” again, from just a little earlier in the issue: “You’re all looking for something to blame when you should be looking out the window. I mean, it’s typical, innit? You’re looking for that one thing to subtract out of children’s lives to make it all better. Take out the videogames, the funny music, the food coloring, kids won’t shoot each other anymore. You’re not looking at what’s on these tapes.”

You know, it’s generally a bad thing when you read any hyper-political issue of any comic nominally in the horror genre, fifteen years after its publication, and think, wow, that issue was downright prophetic.

So, is the situation hopeless? Should we all just give up, because we haven’t solved the problem in the last fifteen years? Of course not.

Talk to your local community about the kind of schools and community centers you want to see. Offer your help and support where you can, when you can – every little bit helps.

Be one of those concerned individuals who works with young people in some way, even if indirectly – if you don’t have time to volunteer or money to donate, see about getting your workplace or organization to offer internships, or service opportunities, or even summer work on some very basic level. Get our kids involved in something better, let them see that there’s more out there than just more of the same.

Get out there and fix it. Get involved. Vote, for crying out loud.

And hey, taking a little action might help you feel better about things in the long run. And if all of us took just a little action, on a local level, just imagine what the world might look like, not too long from now.

Maybe we can help more of these kids decide it’s worth finding out.

Some Notes on Disability and Body-Positivity

Disclaimer: The following is based upon my own experiences as woman with recent experience of physical disability. Please do not assume that my experience is exactly representative of all disabled women. If there is a disabled woman in your life, the best care you can give her is to be discovered by listening to what she has to say about her own experiences.

One of the most important strategies for coping with disability and illness is maintaining a positive attitude. This is not only fairly obvious to most observers, but also conforms to standard medical wisdom. Unfortunately, it’s also a hell of a lot easier said than done, in part because people with disabilities, particularly women with disabilities, are constantly bombarded with messages of varying levels of subtlety that tell us our bodies are less valuable than those of people with perfect health, and that our accomplishments will always matter less, and that our relationships will always rest on a fragile foundation because of conditions that may be out of our control.

Unless you live under a virtual rock and just emerge occasionally to read blogs on WordPress (which might be a really healthy lifestyle, given the net these days), you probably use some service on the internet which tracks information about you: an online retailer, an email service, social media, online news sources, or any one of a variety of other websites that keep track of who reads what and what interests might overlap. The ads you see and the links with which you are presented are often selected to match specific data about you (sometimes with hilariously wrong assumptions – Facebook in particular is known for this). If you have a disability, chances are this information has made it into some kind of data aggregator and affects the messages you see.

These messages are crafted primarily for the groups in the world who possess privilege: white, able-bodied, straight, cisgender, prevalent-religion-following (Christian, in the USA), vernacular-speaking (English, in the USA), wealthy, employed, non-single men. Some messages are specifically crafted for a group that changes one of these categories; the easiest example to find is advertisements targeted to a female audience – though even those usually contain messages that point women in the direction of pleasing men in some form or other, and conforming to male-dictated standards. Racial diversity is becoming more common in advertising and promotion, but still has a tremendously long way to go. It’s still a huge deal when a homosexual couple or family, particularly one raising children, is shown in advertising.

And here’s where intersectionality becomes important. When advertisers only have 30 seconds to get their message across, they don’t prioritize positivity toward not just women, but transgender women of color with disabilities, just to give one very complex possible example. Even simpler examples, combining only two of these categories, are hard to find in commercials in ways that really matter beyond basic representation (which is a vital step, but not the be-all and end-all).

As a disabled woman, I am constantly presented with “feminist” and “body-positive” ads that show women’s bodies being “amazing,” doing things that I can’t do. I see an ad of a woman running a race or climbing a mountain, and I’m told, “see, your body is incredible.” And the message underlying that, to a disabled woman, is “your body would be incredible, if it could do this; as is, sorry, that kinda sucks.” I am presented with “reasons you know your marriage will last forever,” that consist of “because you do X thing,” that… I haven’t been able to really do in years.

People around me see these messages as well, and it affects their attitude toward me and my body. This contributes to the fact that, when I use a wheelchair, employees at a grocery store tend to talk very! Slowly! And! Loudly! In! Small! Words! As if, because I am in a wheelchair, I can’t understand their speech.

It is very hard to maintain a body-positive attitude about my own body when I am constantly told by society that my body is lesser than other bodies.

Disabled bodies are not lesser than other bodies, any more than darker-skinned bodies are lesser than lighter-skinned bodies, or than female bodies are lesser than male bodies, or transgender bodies are lesser than cisgender bodies, etc.

I’ve seen this discussed in many an article, and most of them stop there. I’m going to continue by giving some positive examples of attitudes and expressions toward a disabled person’s body.

The degree to which I am currently disabled is a relatively recent development, and so it’s something that I’m still getting used to, both as a concept in my head and as a practical living situation. It hasn’t been easy, and I know I haven’t always made it easy for those around me. I have been incredibly lucky to be surrounded by supportive family, both family of blood and family of choice. These people have helped me maintain something of a positive attitude, though it is still a daily struggle for me.

I have friends who tell me I look great when I show up wearing the new outfit I’m excited about, or when I’m dressed up for Renaissance Faire. They don’t focus on what today’s mobility situation might be. They tell me I’m fun to be around, to do things with, and reassure me when I wonder aloud whether my lack of mobility sometimes holds them back from doing things.

I have parents who tell me they’re proud of me, and who are proud to point out ways I look like them.

On the front lines of this fight with me, every day, is my husband. He tells me I’m beautiful, and when I sometimes stare at him incredulously, he insists, “Even though you may not feel it right now, you are beautiful.” He doesn’t let me get away with hating my body. Hating my body is a bad habit that I can fall into easily, and he knows it. His response: “Your body is amazing. I don’t like that it hurts you the way it does, but you have to remember, that’s not all that your body is.” And the best part about hearing this from my husband? It’s not rehearsed or planned. It’s part of his attitude, and I work every day to make it part of mine.

This is such an important insight, that there’s more to our bodies than our health problems, and I believe we don’t hear it enough. Sometimes our bodies screw us over, whether we’re disabled or not. Most of us will, at some point, go through a serious illness or injury of some kind. It feels like a betrayal by our own flesh, and it’s easy to lose the trust that we once had in our bodies, and to lose a sense of ownership, and that positive attitude that can keep us healthy. But those failures of our bodies are just a fraction of what our bodies do. The human body is incredible, and science continues to explore it because we don’t really even know how incredible.

This is true whether or not we’re disabled. I’d like to see this message explored with real inclusivity, in advertisements and articles focused on something other than yoga equipment and New Age enlightenment practices.

The Inevitable #Gamergate post

Note: Comments will be very heavily moderated. Keep it civil, people. Harassment of myself and others will not be tolerated – in any direction, for any reason. I will tolerate harassment neither of or by Gamergaters.
A brief introduction, as to why I care. The Gamergate (or #Gamergate) movement has blown wider and stronger than I think anyone expected, and there’s a strong sentiment I hear of “Why does anybody care? It’s just video games.” Here’s why: because if people aren’t safe playing video games and talking about video games when they express differing opinions, then people aren’t safe talking about anything. And when one group’s safety (in this case, women) is compromised, everyone’s safety is compromised. But still, to many, it’s a hypothetical. To me, it’s personal. These are my people. Geek women are my people. I will not stand by in silence as we are driven away from the things we love. I will not stand back and be a silent witness to #Gamergatekeeping any longer.
Now, onward to my thoughts about this specific situation.
Let me state first that there are some serious problems in gaming journalism, and in gaming criticism. There are some major problems of corruption in the gaming industry. This is no surprise, given that it has rapidly changed from a niche market into a multi-billion dollar industry.
That said, these facts are mostly unrelated to Gamergate. I feel for the people who have gathered under the #Gamergate hashtag with the honest intent of addressing these issues, I really do, but it’s time for those people to wake up, realize that the hashtag has been tainted beyond all redemption by things like the threat of a school shooting and the harassment of women to a point that it’s driving creative people out of the industry based on their gender, and find a different hashtag under which to assemble, if they really want to address these issues.
Anyone claiming after serious research that this movement began with a journalistic concern is in a state of massive denial. The proof is there that the so-called “Quinnspiracy” is nothing more than a sad case of revenge porn on the part of an ex-boyfriend with an axe to grind, and not a legitimate axe at that. The origins of Gamergate lie with a trumped-up case brought against a woman whose worst actual action might have been cheating on him with someone she knew who did not in fact write a review of her game, and more likely her worst action was simply moving on after the relationship ended.
After that point, somehow, Gamergaters managed to get their resources in line enough to deliberately bring on board some people with legitimate concerns about the gaming industry and gaming journalism. But the harassment hasn’t stopped. And the rejection of women’s views hasn’t stopped. Any legitimacy the movement might ever stand to gain is blocked by these two facts.
To me, the scariest thing is that this movement has gained momentum, rather than losing it. The saddest thing is that it’s tainting the entire community of gamers. I’m hopeful that, with recent media events such as the lashing from the Colbert Report, that trend will reverse.
I’m also sad that there are some decent people who believe that Gamergate is the best hope they have of making positive change concerning some real issues in the industry, and those people are getting their very real concerns mixed up with some really unsavory practices, in many cases without realizing it. I’d like to address those people now.
Let me be clear about a few other things.
It is absolutely okay to disagree with someone.
It is absolutely okay to believe that someone’s views are irrelevant.
It is absolutely okay to critique someone’s practices.
It is absolutely okay to critique someone’s publications.
It is absolutely not okay to threaten or harass.
It is absolutely not okay to blacklist.
It is absolutely not okay to impose your ideas of what is relevant on the rest of the world.
It is absolutely not okay to career-block someone and defame their character based on a misconceived notion of law and accepted practice.
Even those who have legitimate concerns about the state of the industry are guilty of some of the above actions. For example, those who believe that feminism should not be included in game review because ideology should not be a part of game criticism. First of all, ideology is always a part of criticism. There is no such thing as an objective review, never has been, never will be. Movies are reviewed through the lens of the reviewers’ ideologies, as are books. If games are being reviewed this way, this is a good thing, a sign that the form is being accepted as worthy of genuine academic examination.
If you would rather people not include feminism as one of those ideologies because it’s not one you subscribe to, it’s your right to find and read exclusively reviews that don’t do that. But it is not your right to publicly defame the character and career of the reviewers that do, or to try to silence them and pretend that they have no right to disagree with you. I personally believe that the portrayal of women in video games is one of the signs of corruption in the industry, and that people like Anita Sarkeesian, flawed though her specific criticisms certainly are at times (and that’s a conversation I’d be more than happy to have in another place, maybe the comments section), are doing much more to move the industry forward than any part of Gamergate has managed to do so far, if only because she invites discussion and diversity of viewpoints while Gamergate seeks silence. I would encourage you to go start your own review site for people with other views. I think you’d get a lot of traffic, and I think it’s important that a variety of viewpoints be catered to in the publication of game reviews. If you disagree with my views, I think that’s great, and if you have a place you can find reviews that will reliably tell you whether or not you will like a game because the reviewer thinks along similar lines to you, that’s excellent. I need the same thing, and the same reviewer won’t be able to write for both of us, because we’re just too different in what we’re looking for in a game, if you don’t care about how women are portrayed. I don’t want reviews that focus on breast physics, but I’m okay with simply being able to avoid those that do; why can’t you, if you don’t want feminist-oriented reviews, do me the same courtesy?
I realize that if game reviews were to take a similar route to movie, book, and art reviews, it would change the way publicity in the industry works on a very fundamental level. I also think that would be an excellent thing, because it would further legitimize games as an artistic medium worthy of academic and artistic examination, and would grow the industry in progressive and healthy ways. Objectivity in reviews isn’t possible, because reviews are inherently subjective. Variety and diversity, however, can ensure that we all have our needs met, and will raise the general quality of the work produced in both the game industry itself and in the surrounding journalism.
If you really care about integrity in gaming publicity, I also encourage you to find a different hashtag under which to assemble, because for all of your good intentions, this one started out as a deliberate campaign to end the career and the personal peace of one woman out of a sense of sexual revenge, and has since become irrevocably associated with the harassment, threatening, and silencing of women. If you really don’t believe that behavior is okay, then do something about it. Don’t give me “not all Gamergaters,” I know that already and I don’t need to hear it again. Go back and look at the #YesAllWomen hashtag on Twitter for a while, see what happened when that went viral a while ago, and come back when you’re done, because it’s starting to seem like it would function as a response to #NotAllGamergaters, even to #NotAllGamers.
I value the gaming community, because it’s my community. Gamers are my people. Geeks are my people. But. So are women. So are people with disabilities. I don’t want to be told that because of one part of who I am, I can’t be part of a community that represents another part of who I am. I understand that not everyone who has associated with Gamergate has that experience, and that’s wonderful for you, but there are far too many people who have had that experience, and it needs to stop. I don’t want people to have a bad idea about who we are as gamers, because of the fact that you and I can’t have a conversation.
And if you really are okay with seeing some change happen to make our beloved hobby into a healthier industry for everyone, even if it’s a little scary, even if it means getting used to some new ways of figuring out what you’re going to play next, I look forward to exploring that with you. If not, I very much fear this conversation is in fact over.
I shouldn’t have been afraid to make this post. The fact that I was, because I’ve seen what happens to women who criticize Gamergate, is telling.
You know what would make me happiest, Gamergate? If you proved me wrong. If you took control of the movement, broke your silence, made it clear that harassment is not acceptable, reached out to the women who have been victimized and driven from their homes. If you informed yourselves of journalistic practice, and sponsored a diversity in the types of reviews and criticism that are out there, as well as supporting integrity in factual reporting, and combating the very real corruption that does exist, without trampling on others’ right to free speech. If you made Gamergate – under this or any other name – into the movement you want it to be, rather than the mess it currently is.
Make no mistake, denial won’t get you there. And Gamergate is one of the greatest threats to gaming I have seen in a long time, as it’s bringing back questions in mass media of what “damage” gaming can do to people. These issues were almost, almost put to rest, before people started threatening to kill people for expressing different views, and now Gamergate is on the SLPC Hatewatch. There are still enough people out there who don’t know what’s going on and don’t care to research it, that there is a serious danger of widespread misinformation about gamers as a whole. And because I’m not part of Gamergate and refuse to associate myself with its origins and common practices, my best option is to just say my piece, and wait for the response, whatever form it takes.
And that also should not be as frightening as it is.

Politics Post: Colorblindness in High-Stakes Testing and the School-to-Prison Pipeline

I have read a lot of articles recently about the evils of high-stakes testing, and I agree with almost all of them. There’s just one aspect of the problem I feel has been massively under-addressed: racial justice in standardized testing.
First, a couple of choice quotations to share. These have been working their way around the internet for a couple of years now, and I’d like to put them together in this post.
“If we’re encouraged to differentiate our instruction, why are we suddenly standardizing everything about education?”
“Fairness in education isn’t every student getting the same thing. It’s every student getting what they need.”
A few years ago, my school had a guest speaker come to talk to the teachers about racial equality in our classrooms. We were all ready to be defensive, sure that we were going to be accused of deliberate discrimination, prejudice, racism, you name it. This defensive attitude existed for two reasons. The first is that, as teachers, we were already seeing the pattern of accusatory speakers at educational events, and it was in fact a reasonable conclusion to come to, that anybody coming to talk to us about improving our practices would take that particular tone. The second, though, was that most of the teachers who were present that day are White. And we were reacting out of a knee-jerk fear of being called on our own privilege. (For a great link on White and other kinds of privilege, and why it isn’t something we have to apologize for or be ashamed of, but is something we have to acknowledge and account for, check out John Scalzi’s brilliant remarks.)
Which, as it turned out, was totally unfounded anyway. Both of our fears were. The guest speaker, Ivory Toldson, was brilliant in every way, and one of the first things he did was point out that most of the inequalities in an individual classroom are not based on deliberate discrimination: they’re based on simple lack of knowledge of the background from which our students come, and based on a simple ignorance born of our own backgrounds – backgrounds we don’t have to be ashamed of or sorry for, but whose results we do have to do something about. His recommendation was not that we suddenly start giving out free passes to students of color, or any such thing that some of us expected to hear. He asked us, plainly and with passion, to get to know our students and their cultures, and to understand their individual needs in order to better meet them. Just as we would with students whose needs differed in any other way. I spoke with Dr. Toldson individually later, and he gave me some tips on reaching out to students, which have been incredibly helpful throughout my career since then.
He was the first person I heard say the second of the above quotations, by the way.
Since that day, which was about four years ago, the education field has become more and more about high-stakes testing, in ways that are increasingly destructive, and disproportionately destructive to our students of color.
How are these things related, you ask? Take a look at that first quotation again.
High-stakes testing works on the basic premise that all students are essentially the same, and that it makes sense to “handle” them all in the same ways. In racial terms, this is referred to as “colorblindness.” At first glance, this might seem like a good thing: not seeing race means seeing everyone as equal, right? Except, no, it doesn’t – it fails to acknowledge important differences in background, racial history, institutional discrimination, and numerous other things, including, yes, the existence of White privilege. For more on colorblindness and its deleterious effects, check this excellent article.
Now take that concept, and funnel it into the creation of a test with stakes that determine how we further label our students. Students who do well on these tests are labelled “successful,” and all sorts of opportunities come their way. Students who do poorly on these tests are labeled “failures,” and they find all kinds of new obstacles placed in their paths – as if they needed that, given that these students clearly already face numerous challenges. In particular, it is due to historical and institutional racism that students of color tend to come from lower-income neighborhoods that are already struggling, and have struggling schools.
This fuels another awful concept, one that makes me sad that we even need a term for: the school-to-prison pipeline. The ACLU’s page (here) on this defines this concept as the “disturbing national trend wherein children are funneled out of public schools and into juvenile and criminal justice systems.” The ACLU files this concept under their Racial Justice heading for a reason: it disproportionately affects students of color, in particular black and Hispanic students, and this inequality is only getting worse due to high-stakes testing.
What’s the connection here? The fact that the failure to account for diversity in our school systems punishes students of color for their differing backgrounds, and labels them “failures” through the mechanism of high-stakes testing. This label then places them in a position to be shunted straight into the prison system through decreased funding to those students’ schools, which further stigmatizes their backgrounds… and the cycle continues.
This is absolutely unacceptable, and is a failure on the part of education reform. High-stakes testing has been touted as “the great equalizer,” when in fact it has become the reverse.

Politics Post: The Flaw in “Competitive School Reform” Logic

CONTENT ADVISORY: It saddens me greatly that I feel the need to put a content advisory on a post about education policy, but the fact is, education policy is killing people. This post discusses some of those mechanisms.

I originally posted most of this on my Facebook back in 2011. I am updating it now in the aftermath of the Vergara v. California decision, because I believe that the recent push to take away the last vestige of teacher rights is an extension of the same problems seen in the administration then – though it was early enough in the Obama administration that many of us were only beginning to realize the depth of the problem. Now that more of the effect has become visible, the Race to the Top initiative has also become an even clearer example of why pitting schools against each other in competition isn’t the right recipe for “reforming” the system.
First, some background on the initiative, since it’s been a while. Race to the Top was part of the education funding package which itself was part of the federal stimulus program. Some of the stimulus funding for education went toward prevention of massive layoffs in the public schools across the country, some of it went to renovations of school buildings to keep them structurally safe and make many old buildings asbestos-free for the first time. The rest went toward a program conceived by the Secretary of Education, Arne Duncan, called Race to the Top.
By the rules of the Race to the Top program, schools – including private and charter schools – would institute new reforms and practices to improve themselves, and submit the results for what amounts to a federal contest, with massive amounts of school funding as the prize. Schools across the country put resources toward self-improvement and reform, hoping to recoup the money later by winning extra funding.
The theory behind Race to the Top is roughly this: if schools are encouraged to self-improve by having a direct financial incentive, then more schools will discover new practices and products that work, which can then be replicated in programs across the country, thus improving all of the schools. Also, by putting the schools in competition against each other, it will further encourage the risk-taking that always accompanies any kind of reform.
It’s a good theory. It works. But what people don’t always realize is that it works because those schools were willing to put tremendous resources into their reforms. Everything comes at a cost, in any industry, and education is no exception. The money for everything has to come from somewhere. And the schools that instituted those reforms and improvements recorded very impressive results.
Then it comes time for the next step: replicating those innovations, and hopefully those results, across the country. That’s the point where our education system finds itself right now. Schools are attempting to implement those same reforms, because that’s the federal mandate: now we know some things that work, so do it. Immediately. Because it’s what our students need. As far as that goes, it’s correct. But the schools that are receiving these mandates don’t necessarily have the resources to put toward those innovations, and the result is that the employees just have to come up with it, somehow. Somewhere.
Schools in my area have been implementing some of the new practices and such that came out of Race to the Top. Some of them even work. I’ve seen huge improvements in our school. It’s great. Scores are getting higher, gaps are closing. It’s awesome. Others are not helping in the slightest, and it’s just making us all – students, teachers, administrators, and support staff – busier for no good reason. Reality check: just because something works beautifully at one school, does not mean it will work at all schools.
But since there’s no money being put into it, the cost has to come from somewhere else. And where it’s currently coming from is other things that make schools work. We’ve bought ourselves curricular reform by sacrificing the idea that teachers and students both have other things in their lives. We’ve bought school reform by sacrificing actual physical supplies (actual example: a few years ago, my school got all sorts of shiny new science equipment, but in mid-February completely ran out of copy paper for the rest of the year, and teachers had to purchase their own paper to make class materials for the remainder of the year). We’ve bought school reform by sacrificing class size (the average class size in my department was 36 for years after this initiative). We’ve bought school reform by requiring students and teachers both to spend hours of after school time picking up the slack left in the supports that used to exist. The improvements based on the Race to the Top program, while very real and significant, are being implemented as if they exist in a vacuum. Our schools are less safe, both physically and otherwise, for every person in them, employees and students alike.
Parents are angrier at the system than ever before, because they perceive – quite correctly – that their children are not being treated as human beings by the current administration. They’re being treated as test scores that happen to be walking around in an incarnation that resembles a teenage human. Students are turning to their teachers for help, but that’s not working either – because teachers are explicitly being told that we are not allowed to make accommodations for the stresses students are experiencing. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do. I wish I could help,” is becoming a refrain in our schools. Since 2011, there has been an epidemic of student suicides in my area, due to stress. And teachers can’t give any more time to work than we already do – because, under the pressure of these expectations, many of us have now given up almost everything else in our lives beyond basic obligations, and still don’t have enough time in the day.
This isn’t about teacher pay, which is the argument most people seem to be using against it. It’s about the ways in which Race to the Top has failed the very people we are supposed to be serving with our schools: the students.
Teacher pay is an issue, of course, for a number of reasons. Teacher benefits are an issue. And there is a basic issue of equity for school employees that is coming to a head in states like Wisconsin, New Jersey, New York, and now California. Teachers have already compromised, giving up potential salary increases to maintain benefits, things of that nature. If those bargaining rights are stripped away, those teachers will lose the things they have already sacrificed to keep. They will have more work, under worse conditions. The average length of time someone stays in the teaching profession is five years. That number is way too low, but it can still go down. There will be fewer and fewer experienced teachers in this country.
But the most important thing that so many people are failing to realize, is that unless the teachers are put in conditions where they can work productively, the people who bear the final cost of that are our citizens of the next generation. The way educational reform is being implemented in our country is taking away the adult support these kids need. When teachers are abused by the system, the results are passed on to the students.
Those results, ranging from student test scores dropping to students committing suicide, are absolutely unacceptable.
And with the recent decision in California, teachers’ ability to help students, and to ask schools for the help they need, and to advocate for their children – for our students really are like our children, if you haven’t seen the movie Goodbye, Mr. Chips, go out and watch it right now – because we could be fired without due process for causing administrators inconvenience. Again, this isn’t about teacher pay or teacher tenure. This is about our students and our ability to help them in the ways that they need in order to be successful learners.
Much of the so-called “school reform” movement is based on a single, deeply flawed premise: the reason the schools aren’t better is that they don’t actually want to be better. This isn’t the surface rhetoric, but it is the assumption that underlies the entire basis of the competition-based funding and evaluations and high-stakes testing that have come to dominate the educational environment under the current administration.
Work with my logic a minute. “School reform” policy starts with the idea that all the resources really are there in the schools, it’s just a matter of how they are used, and if we put schools in competition with each other, they’ll all get better because they’ll be motivated. This implies that the schools aren’t motivated already, and that pay and funding are the only things that will motivate schools to improve – in other words, that schools aren’t actually motivated by positive results in their students. The same is true of the idea of merit pay: if one assumes that teachers will naturally improve if they are in competition with each other to improve, this assumes that they aren’t sufficiently motivated already by a desire to serve their students and to do well as professionals. This is insulting in the extreme, as well as untrue for the vast majority of us. So much for the campaign promises to “respect teachers.”
Spring is always a rough time for teachers, and this isn’t going to change even if some of these problems are fixed. But I am disturbed by the number of great teachers I know who are either leaving the profession or strongly considering it, because the environment has become so hostile not just to them but to their students. I know the same thought has crossed my mind numerous times this year.

This post is made in honor of all those educators in all positions, and all those students, who have been so relentlessly overloaded by the current environment in education that they have destroyed themselves, deliberately or otherwise, physically, emotionally, or spiritually.