On the morning
of August 20, 2003, I was in my classroom at Holy Cross Catholic School in
Kansas City, Missouri, preparing for my fourth year as a middle school teacher. My students would arrive in two
days. Our theme for that year was
“Celebrate What is Right!” - and I was determined to make the year a memorable one.
Suddenly, one of
my fellow middle school teachers burst into my room crying, “They’ve closed St.
Francis!”
Two days before
the start of the school year, the Jesuit parish of St. Francis Xavier suddenly closed its school.
Financial issues and rising debt were blamed. The eighty-three families with students were
told to find other schools. The
twenty-four teachers and staff, including the principal, were told to find other
jobs. Because St. Francis Xavier was a
Jesuit parish, even the Diocese, its school superintendent, and the Bishop
himself were powerless to stop the closing.
People tried to
help. Someone established a Teacher
Assistance Fund to help pay for continuing medical insurance. One of the fired teachers was pregnant and
just weeks away from having her baby.
Students in other schools offered to pay $1 to wear jeans and donated
the money to the Fund. Parent-Teacher
organizations donated part of the proceeds from their fundraisers. Fellow teachers donated precious dollars from
our well-below market salaries. But, to
my knowledge, less than $8,000 was raised.
I contacted the National Association of Catholic School Teachers and researched the possibility of forming a local union. I talked with local leaders in St. Louis where the Church hierarchy had resisted all attempts to organize despite clear Church teaching about the importance of worker rights. By 2004, the St. Louis Archbishop had decreed, "Neither the Archdiocese nor individual parishes will recognize or bargain collectively with any organization as a representative of the teachers."
After a year had passed, I had no idea what to do. The fear and anger felt by many teachers had dissipated. It was clear that organizing a union was not something that could be discussed openly. I felt alone, powerless, without a voice. My wife and I decided that it was time to leave Holy Cross and get a job in a public school - with professional-level salary, retirement and benefits.
This experience left me with a profound determination to STAND UP and SPEAK OUT about our profession. As a professional, I was accustomed to having my opinions heard and respected. It astonished me that decisions in a school system could be made that affected me and my students without my input. I would not be silent again.
I contacted the National Association of Catholic School Teachers and researched the possibility of forming a local union. I talked with local leaders in St. Louis where the Church hierarchy had resisted all attempts to organize despite clear Church teaching about the importance of worker rights. By 2004, the St. Louis Archbishop had decreed, "Neither the Archdiocese nor individual parishes will recognize or bargain collectively with any organization as a representative of the teachers."
After a year had passed, I had no idea what to do. The fear and anger felt by many teachers had dissipated. It was clear that organizing a union was not something that could be discussed openly. I felt alone, powerless, without a voice. My wife and I decided that it was time to leave Holy Cross and get a job in a public school - with professional-level salary, retirement and benefits.
This experience left me with a profound determination to STAND UP and SPEAK OUT about our profession. As a professional, I was accustomed to having my opinions heard and respected. It astonished me that decisions in a school system could be made that affected me and my students without my input. I would not be silent again.
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