Four Reasons Why I’m #RedforEd

I don’t know if it was the end of my first full week as a working mom, or the end of the Tacoma Teacher Strike, or something else. But I woke up on Friday and I just knew. It was a day to be #RedforED.

This movement is about the promise of public education. It is about supporting each other--teachers, families, students, and communities--while we do hard things to make this promise a reality. It is about the promise of something better—for our country, and each individual child.

When I woke up on Friday, I just needed to be in it, and I needed to write to tell you why.

A Renewed Energy

In the last year I learned a new meaning to my mantra to do hard things.

I had a more difficult than average pregnancy, and it was HARD to go to work every day. I learned a new world of respect for pregnant ladies everywhere.

I had a more difficult than average recovery, and it was HARD to do… everything. I learned a new universe of respect for new moms, especially the new moms in our country who have to go back to work before their own bodies have healed.

Just as I found my voice to advocate for kids, just as I was catching my stride as a writer, just as I was learning to lead, my body shut down.

This is the first time in a year that I have been physically capable of doing the work I want to do. And it feels so good to be back.

I’m full of energy. I’m #RedforEd.

A Renewed Gratitude

State Teachers of the Year are #RedforEd.

All over Washington this fall, teacher’s unions have stood up to school districts to demand the pay increases which the long-fought McCleary battle intended to provide. Across the country, teacher rallies and strikes have made news throughout the spring and summer. Last week, Time Magazine featured a series on the state of teachers in America, and those stories left me heartbroken. But also grateful.

In Quincy, our teachers and the district reached a contract agreement waaaaaaaaay back in mid-July. Plus I finished my Master’s Degree this spring, which gave me an extra bump on the salary schedule. When I put them together they add up to a whopping 35% raise over last year.

I became a teacher in 2010, in the midst of pay cuts and hiring freezes. It was a time of “you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit”. That mentality has stuck with me. There are so many things to stand up for as a teacher; I never thought to take time to stand up for myself.

I remember vividly the moment in July when I realized what my new salary would be. I was standing at my kitchen counter. My mindset changed in an instant. I stood a little straighter and thought, “Yeah. I am worth that.”  I gained a sense of self-respect I never knew I was missing. And I realized teacher pay is a battle worth fighting for.

I’m so thankful to the teachers, in Quincy and around our country, who have taken a stand on this hard thing for me. I’m so glad I work for administrators and a school board who care about our students enough to care about their teachers.

I’m full of gratitude. I’m #RedforEd.

A Renewed Hope

Having a baby right after my year of service as Teacher of the Year left me in a strange dichotomy. Those two experiences are among the best of my life. I’ve never felt so fulfilled, challenged, and inspired.

At the same time, they removed me, physically, from my building and my peers. In the last three years I’ve had three principals, two program directors, and 12 different teaching teammates. My absence, combined with this turnover, left me anxious and lacking direction. I’ve never felt so isolated.

My new colleagues, while new to our department, are natural leaders. They are quick learners, visionary thinkers, and personally invested in our success. Each of them has already solved problems that I have unknowingly been stuck in for years.

This one thing is a little less hard for me, because of them. And what’s more, my students are going to have a better experience this year, because of them.

I’m full of hope. I’m #RedforEd.

A Renewed Purpose

Teachers always talk about the need for our students to have role models they can relate to. I totally identify with that right now. On the farm, it is pretty uncommon for a spouse to have an external career when kids are involved. Farm life is unpredictable and all consuming. I don’t have any footprints to follow.

But I’ve been determined to find a way to do this hard thing. I see the struggle as an investment in my family, as much as a paycheck, a career, or a service to my community.

Until we had a major farm emergency. The day before harvest started, a week before my maternity leave ended. I could hardly separate the trauma of the event from my bigger feelings about being a working mom. I panicked. How am I going to make this work?

Then I listened to Robert Hand accept his title as 2019 Washington State Teacher of the Year. With every sentence, he pulled me back to myself. He reminded me who I am and why I do what I do.

“I’m just here because I work hard. I work hard and I love my kids.”

“I think about my daughter every day that I go to work. I think about what she deserves, and I want that for every kid in my room.”

Mr. Hand’s words tie perfectly into my favorite quote from Martin Luther King Jr.:

“And I said to my little children, I'm going to work and do everything that I can do to see that you get a good education. I don't ever want you to forget that there are millions of God's children who will not and cannot get a good education, and I don't want you feeling that you are better than they are.

For you will never be what you ought to be until they are what they ought to be.”

I am a mom, a farmer’s wife, and a teacher.

I do hard things.

I’m full of purpose. I’m #RedforEd.

An Open Letter to the President of the United States

Dear President Trump,

I am not supposed to have favorite students, and I don't, most of the time. My favorite part about teaching is learning to see what makes each of my students special and unique. But, I will say, one little boy has burrowed his way especially close to my heart over the past three years. The best way I can describe him would be to say that he is curious, caring, and just a bit mischievous. He has hopeful eyes and a bright smile. He warms up every room he enters.

In Kindergarten, I overheard him exclaim to his team, “No, guys, not that idea! Mrs. Jones wants us to be creative!” I’ll never forget the way his voice squeaked when he said creative. I melted on the spot.

He was the first student I saw after I was named Washington State Teacher of the Year last September. I’ll never forget that moment either. He looked at me and asked if I would get to meet the President. I said yes, and he quickly replied,

“I hope you don’t meet Donald Trump. He’s going to kick me out of the country!”

In that moment, my heart cracked a little, but the election was months away. I brushed off a twinge of worry, and we went back to reading Sideways Stories from Wayside School. Soon we were both laughing again, our cares forgotten.

Then, you won. Instantly I again heard his voice in my head. Many of the people who love me the most, who taught me what’s right and how to care about others, they all voted for you. I wanted to hope in you because they believed in you. I tried to brush away my worry as it returned, but it was more difficult. Those eight-year-old eyes started keeping me up at night.

In April, I stood with my friend Ricky, Illinois Teacher of the Year, when we visited you in the Oval Office. He asked you to take care of our DACA kids. You promised him that you would. I took that promise for myself and for that squeaky little voice in my head.

As soon as I saw the headlines reporting your intention to end DACA, my head went back to that moment in the White House. Where went my heart? To this little boy, to the other undocumented children in my classroom, and to the hundreds of thousands of Dreamers around the country. I do not understand this decision.

I also cannot understand the timing. The school year has just begun, and teachers are barely starting to show our students that we deserve their trust. To assure each one that they are safe and respected in our classrooms. My job is to push students out of their comfort zones, to teach them to embrace risks and challenges at school. How can I do any of that when their minds are full of the risks and challenges they bring with them to school?

In my STEAM Lab, I help students see that they can reach for many different dreams in life. We engineer, experiment, and create. I’m urgently preparing them to be our country’s leading problem solvers, business leaders, innovators, and citizens.

America is their home, and they have the potential to make it great.

What will I say to this little boy when I see him tomorrow? He’s in third grade now; a critical year. This year’s success or failure has the power to write so much of his future. I know he’s already carried this anxiety for a year now. How much learning has been lost to fear? How much more is yet to come?

I am not a politician or an immigration expert. I am a teacher. I am the keeper of the children--their silly faces, their squeaky voices, their inspiring stories. I stand in front of them every day, helping them make sense of a world they do not understand, one that they did not choose. If I can’t make sense of this, how will they?

Mr. President, please. Protect our DACA kids.

With heartache and hope,

Camille Jones

2017 WA State Teacher of the Year

At "The Table", Where Are All the Latinos?

In the farm town where I live, over 90% of students are Latinos. In classrooms around the US, Latinos include 25% of all students, the largest minority group. In the world of educational leadership, they are noticeably absent. I search for traces of my students wherever I go, hoping to better understand, relate to, and support them. Too often I find myself asking, where are all the Latinos?

As I struggle to wrap my mind around this disparity, I get a sense that Latinos are a hidden class in this country. If America was a car, they would be the engine. Grinding away, unseen, much less understood, by most of us who benefit from their efforts.

SPEAK YOUR TRUTH

When I hear people talk about immigrants taking American jobs, I see families of my students, doing jobs no one else will do. I’ve lived on a farm my entire life. Modern farming requires hundreds of people to get the job done. The only non-Latino/a people I've seen picking cherries, pulling weeds, or sorting onions are the children of white farmers.  

I’ve felt their silent presence when I travel, too. In hotels and restaurants, a world of people race around, unseen, leaving their shadows behind in the form of a freshly made bed, a spotless glass, or a clean table. Yet when we think of where our food comes from, or why our travels are so smooth, we rarely remember those behind the scenes, making it all possible.

This summer, I was reminded of how hidden Latinos are, even in education. It hit me when I attended a conference of the National Network of State Teachers of the Year (NNSTOY). The coordinators clearly tried to emphasize equity and diversity. Many sessions were led by people of color, significantly more than I have seen at other education conferences. Even so, I counted the Latino/a attendees and speakers on one hand. I left the conference frustrated, again asking, where are all the Latinos?

STAY ENGAGED

You may be thinking, we need to recruit more Latino/a teachers! And yes, only 8% of US teachers are Latinos, a long way from the 25%, or 90%, that would match the students in our schools. Even in my community, most of the Latino/a school staff are doing the jobs that receive the least amount of attention. But that doesn’t account for their absence in educational leadership at the national level. There are many Latino/a educators who have been honored for their work around the country. Just from my personal contacts, in 2017 alone, they include:

• Ricardo (Ricky) Castro, IL Teacher of the Year
• José Corona, WA Teacher of the Year Finalist
• Gloria Pereyra-Robertson, OR Teacher of the Year
• Adina Brito, WA Principal of the Year
• Ricardo Iñiguez, WA Assistant Principal of the Year
• Jessica Solano, FL Teacher of the Year
• Michelle Doherty, AZ Teacher of the Year
• Stephanie Gurule-Leyba, NM Teacher of the Year

I know others whose leadership still deserves to be celebrated. People like Eva, my first mentor. Or Letty, who has been a leader of my school for years, both as a paraprofessional and as a teacher. Or Michelle, Maria, Maria, Ana, Alex, or Manny, who teach me through their actions as well as their words.

These voices guide me. I hear my students when José shares about his childhood as a chronically tardy student, spending long morning hours picking asparagus before school. I feel them when Gloria talks about the discrimination she’s faced at school, even as a teacher. I also know these friends aren't the only Latino/a leaders out there. At this conference of our country’s “most accomplished teachers”, I kept thinking, where are all the Latinos?

EXPERIENCE DISCOMFORT

The truth is, there were Latinos at NNSTOY. Just not sitting in the audience or speaking from the platform. After they served us lunch and cleaned our rooms, we talked about their children behind closed doors. Each time I thanked the servers for my meal, my discomfort grew. Were they looking around the room and thinking it too? Where are all the Latinos?

I finally wrote to Ricky, the Illinois Teacher of the Year. I thought it would encourage him when I said, “NNSTOY needs your voice, so bad.” He understood my frustration but went on to tell me about the summer camp he runs, about his daughter soon to have surgery. I understood that right now, his efforts are needed at home and in his community. I felt guilty for adding to his burden.  

On the last day, I came across a blog post about a group of teachers who met with Secretary DeVos the day before the conference. The post praised the diversity of the group (although still, there were no Latinos). It talked about the “invisible tax” that black teachers pay, one that forces more leadership on them than they are due. I thought again of my conversation with Ricky and reflected on how this tax is imposed on teachers of many different groups.  I wiped tears from my eyes and asked myself again, where are all the Latinos?

ACCEPT & EXPECT NON-CLOSURE

Since that week, I’ve often found myself thinking back to words that Clint Smith shared with us there. He reminded us that we must hold the truth equally in two hands, the good and the bad. Because reality is both. Only, I need a lot more hands.

These are all truths that I know:

Yes, Latinos are underrepresented in the teaching profession.

Yes, some have been lauded for their work.

Yes, they do bear an extra burden.

Yes, we need their voices to help us understand our Latino/a students.

Yes, those accomplished voices still remain hidden to most of us.

So, where are the Latinos? Maybe that’s the wrong question. They’re the biggest minority group in the United States. They’re my students, friends, mentors, and colleagues. I know where they are. I depend on their perspective, but I don’t hear it enough. 

Maybe that give me a better question to ask:

Where are their voices?

And, how do we listen?

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Let's Dig a Little Deeper...

Curious about the subheadings?

Check out the book Courageous Conversations About Race, by Glenn E. Singleton. Thanks to Lee-Ann Stephens & Melissa Collins for inspiring this post during your session on Courageous Leadership at NNSTOY.

WhAT About Those Labels?

The most difficult part of writing this piece was selecting a word to identify a group to which I don't belong. I finally settled on the term "Latinos" after many conversations and much advice from the friends I mentioned above and more. The ways we define ourselves are deeply personal, and I have learned so much this last few weeks. If you are interested in joining me on this journey to understand why people identify themselves the way they do (Latino, Hispanic, Chicano, Latinx, etc), check out these great pieces from Dieste, NPR, or Huffington Post. Or better yet... ask someone you know!