Excerpt: "Grievances" from the novel "Life's Progressive Movement"

If he had kept his mouth shut in class that day, it would have been a pretty good day. It started out with him not knowing what he would be teaching, if anything, at Murrow Summer High School. He reported to the school as he was told, and made him visible so his supervisors, Mr. Hamm and Mr. Burger could find him. Mr. Burger did and told Johnny he would be incorporated into the English Language Academy (ELA) core and paired with another teacher.

      He went upstairs at eight thirty to the room originally assigned him in the huge new Brooklyn school to find a lone student still sitting there; no one had told the student that the class was cancelled. At about eighth forty-five, at Mr. Hamm’s office on the second floor, Mr. Jonathan Emerson Davinsky was told he would be assigned temporarily to team teach an ELA class. Mr. Hamm walked him to the classroom, said a few words privately to the woman teaching inside and motioned Emerson to go in.

      There were perhaps fifteen students in the class, all black or Latino, a few Eastern Europeans, all with resentful attitudes and bored with whatever the teacher was doing; she was reading aloud “A Dream Deferred” poem by Langston Hughes. Emerson found his seat in the back of the room and blurted out that he knew of another good poem by Langston Hughes. His team teacher, hands plastered on her desk, leaned over. “Sounds like you would like to read it,” she said. He did so without a rise from the students who groaned and kept their heads on their desks.

      He initiated a reading of A Raisin in the Sun. He found the students reluctant to take parts. He took the role of one character, two students took other roles, and his colleague read the stage directions. He and his colleague stopped periodically to explain the text or draw out opinions from the students. He was able to get the students interested by his heart-felt reading. They began to pick up on the plot of the drama and character types.

      Just before the period ended, while they were reading, for no apparent reason, one male student yelled out “Fuck.” Emerson should have said nothing but instead he admonished the student for cursing in class. “Do you even know what the word really meant?” He didn’t answer. Taking a minute, Emerson explained the history of the British naval rule prohibiting alcohol or women aboard ship and spelled out “for unlawful carnal knowledge” on the blackboard.

      The students, street savvy, had heard something that interested them and listened up. With everybody’s attention perked, they went back to reading the play until the period ended. He had lit a spark. Then the bell rang.

      After a seven minute break, the students returned slowly to the classroom. He saw that they were losing interest again so he brought some democracy into the classroom. He asked for a vote: “Who wants to continue reading? Who wants to do some writing?” The students whose heads weren’t back on their desks voted to read and so read on they did. A few students interrupted. “Yo dude, we aren’t getting credit for taking this class. Why should we work?” Emerson told them after class to go downstairs to the office and ask about the credits.

      The class reading continued with more students perking up and participating as Emerson and the team teacher elicited opinions about the characters. He reminded his colleague that they could get around to one of the themes of the drama: “heroes” was an obvious choice.

      “Let’s write a ‘T-chart’ comparing the characters in the play, shall we?” He put the students’ responses onto the board alongside parallel responses about characters in The Red Badge of Courage.

      “Writing a composition for the English Regents is easy if you plan it this way,” he said. “You must cull the essence of the story; the theme.” To prove his point, he used an analogy between marijuana, cocaine, and human beings, explaining briefly how they are comparable. He knew his trick was working when one student called out, “Like the essence of ‘cancer sticks’ is nicotine.”

      The class went pretty well after that, much better than it had been going when he was sent in. To encourage the students to study, Emerson said how they all would pass the English Regents so long as they were in the ball park with their written responses.

      “I got a 51% on the Regents,” said one young lady angrily, “and they failed me!”

      “If you can do that well again, we will try to get you up to the passing grade, 55%,” Emerson said. “It will be no problem since you will all be learning a lot in this class and getting 80’s anyway.” He was being encouraging.

      His colleague, now shit-faced in the back of the room because he had showed her up, sat writing feverishly in a notebook. He didn’t know it but she was writing Emerson up in a two-page letter of his “offences” and how he had put her “in distress.” Emerson later found this out.

      He found out he was set up to be embarrassed because of his truthfulness and union activity. It had all started the year before in summer school. After being hand-picked as a master teacher for the flagship English Language Academy team at Edward R. Murrow High School, without his prior consent, he had fulfilled his responsibilities of preparing low-achievers, students who had already failed the old and new English Regents at least once. It was not without difficulty though.

      Thanks to his team teacher, Ms. Berry, a fretting, insecure, middle-aged Jewish divorcee from Brooklyn, the goal of the program was jeopardized by her heavy-handed class control and reluctance to allow Emerson’s input into lesson planning. The unnatural blonde with over-worked steel-wool hair and cheap cosmetic face was an English teacher friend of Mr. Hamm who supervised her, closely, at their home school, John Dewey. Anything Emerson said in class, although stimulating to the students, was compromised and framed by Ms. Berry who was always in fear of losing control of ‘her’ class. She must have reported everything Emerson said in cordial relations with Mr. Hamm

Emerson felt that he and the other ESL/Special Education teachers were fifth wheels through the program’s design; all authority and bookkeeping was entrusted to the English teacher in each team.

By mid-July, just a few weeks into the summer program, Emerson was pulled out of class and summoned to Mr. Hamm’s office.

“I have a letter here, Mr. Davinsky, from a student in your class,” said Mr. Hamm seated low behind a desk borrowed in the summer school office. He adjusted his black-rimmed co-paid option glasses over his enormous disproportionate sun-burnt ears hidden by strands of pepper white hair, his emaciated suited body barely filling the swivel chair that could have seated two of him.

“It says here that you were curing in class; I’m reading verbatim,” he made it clear that he wasn’t releasing the child’s name for fear of recrimination. “This letter will remain in my possession, Mr. Davinsky, not sent to the superintendent’s office if you shape up.” He was giving Emerson one more chance after he was dutifully intimidated.

Emerson spent the rest of that summer stifled in a back seat as Ms. Berry, gleefully, took over most of the class instruction.

At summer’s end, it was clear that most of the students in most of the classes had failed the Regents again. Emerson was shocked to find how liberally the tests were graded. Mr. Hamm and Mr. Burger told the grading committee to “go easy on them” and students’ grades were scrubbed to passing marks by a stroke of an eraser on wrong answers. Students with 45% and less were raised up to 55% while the passing score was lowered from 65% to meet demand. It was a ruse and Emerson didn’t keep quiet about it.

The next year’s summer school program, despite the animosity between Mr. Hamm and Johnny, found him re-assigned to Murrow. Emerson assumed, as did all the master teachers chosen there, to teach ELA again. When he checked in to the school as June ended, Mr. Hamm was there in the hallway seated behind a bridge table where teachers were to pick up their schedules. There was no schedule for him. “I don’t know why,” was all Mr. Hamm said when Emerson asked. “It will be ready the first day of class.”

When classes began the day after Independence Day, Emerson found the blue folder with class rosters in his assigned mail slot. He was given a schedule with one student in period one, none in period two, and one in period three. “How could they make up classes like that?” he thought. It never crossed his mind that he was being set-up to be excessed but that’s what was happening.

After the first day, he sent to the attendance office his live registers yet he was sent back to his classes the next day. “The administration must need time to straighten things out,” he thought. “I must be patient.” He spoke with his colleagues and found that he was not alone given a weird schedule. Some teachers had three classes; some had two. Some had large class rosters, some had small. Some had air-conditioned rooms some, like Emerson, didn’t. No one knew what they would be teaching.

“Let’s give the administration until Friday to get their act together,” Emerson repeated to his colleagues, “and then hold a union meeting in the afternoon to discuss our grievances if they haven’t.” All agreed. Emerson went back to his empty room after the break. He had just gotten comfortable when Mr. Hamm came by; he assumed he visited all rooms as he should. Like he didn’t know and hadn’t himself written the roster, he acted surprised, put his stack of papers down on Emerson’s desk and wrote “KILL” three times on his three class lists before silently leaving.

He walked down the cavernous hallway to fill out the documents that that been left in his mail slot by the payroll secretary. He passed by Mr. Burger’s office. There was a note on his time card from Mr. Burger: “See me.” He went to his office. Feigning sympathy, Mr. Burger spoke:      

“Your classes were cancelled because of low enrollment. You will be excessed from Murrow.”

“But you could reassign me to ELA classes.”

“Not reassigned to ELA; excessed,” he repeated sullenly.

“I will tell my students tomorrow.”

“That won’t be necessary. Don’t come back tomorrow.”

“You have to give me more than one day notice to find another position.”

“No I don’t think so.”

Frantic for summer employment, Emerson walked outside to find a pay phone to call his assistant principal at his home school, Norman Thomas; he was told there was no ESL position in the summer school there. The principal, Ms. Vole, said there wasn’t a position for him there, either, but Ms. Vole advised Emerson to see Ms. May back at Murrow and claim retention rights.

 Emerson walked back in to Murrow and found Ms. May’s office.

“I was told by Mr. Burger not to come in Monday.”

“What? He can’t do that.”

“You go back there right now and clock in.” Emerson did so, passing Mr. Hamm’s office on the way.”

”I thought I told you to leave,” he said angrily confronting Emerson at the time clock.

      “Ms. May said I stay,” Johnny told him. Mr. Hamm huffed off in the direction of Ms. May’s office. Turns out, she had higher authority than Mr. Hamm so the decision stood, however, Emerson still didn’t know what he would be teaching on Monday. At least, he thought, he would get paid for Friday.

“The teachers will be having a meeting in the teachers’ cafeteria at 1:00pm to discuss our problems. I just wanted you to know.

“Will the meeting be for teachers and administrators as well?”

     “It is a UFT meeting but you are welcome to come and spend some time sharing your plan for next week with us.”

He returned to his temporary assignment, in the English bookroom, helping teachers who still hadn’t received textbooks. To everyone’s surprise, Mr. Burger came on the PA saying there would be a rapid dismissal fire drill and a meeting for ELA teachers in the principal’s meeting room immediately after. Emerson strongly believed Mr. Burger had done that to pre-empt their UFT teachers’ meeting at one o’clock.

When they got to the teachers’ cafeteria at one o’clock, Mr. Hamm and Mr. Burger hemmed and hawed about their “plan” for the next week. It was obvious to every teacher there that they had drawn up something on the spur of the moment as damage control to squelch any teacher complaints; they were still unsure of the room assignments, teaching teams, or much else. They said they would come back Monday with a more complete schedule.

The principal’s meeting, as promised, ended at 1:08pm and they left to clock out. Ten of the thirteen ELA teachers then went to meet in the teachers’ cafeteria. The union meeting was held in the teachers’ cafeteria at noon. No union representative had been sent by the UFT to the school so Emerson took the liberty of forming an ad hoc union committee. There were eleven grievances cited by the ten teachers present:

1.     Understaffed security – only two guards and the front door and one at the side; none on the floors.

2.     No Pass System – no provisions made for bathroom passes for students and no pass rules.

3.     Disorganized, scattershot supplies and books – teachers had difficulty getting everything from textbooks to blackboard erasers

4.     Un-cleaned classrooms – trash cans un-emptied, floors unswept

Copy room chaos – no provision for making copies; no master copies of handouts available

5.     Rooms unfit for teaching; broken fans and air-conditioners or none at all. Noise pollution from passing subway trains at opened windows

6.     .Regents marking team – no indication of who will mark the regents

No ELA curriculum – where are the “stations” (videos, audios, workbooks, supplementary reading) so painstakingly designed for the inaugural ELA Summer Academy last year

7.Attendances cards/ roll books- there is no accounting system for students’ grades

Unclear schedule and assignments – teachers did’t know which classes they’d be teaching or even which rooms or number of periods. It was unclear if there would be team teaching or what their responsibilities were.

 Before the meeting ended, Mr. Burger went to the cafeteria and, in front of his colleagues, told Emerson he wanted to see him in his office. Emerson asked for a colleague to accompany him and one teacher, Mr. Mitchell, volunteered.
 When they approached Mr. Burger’s office, Mr. Burger asked who Mr. Mitchell was. “I must warn you, Mr. Davinsky, that sensitive material will be discussed. You may not want anyone else to hear it.” Mr. Mitchell stayed, they were seated, and Mr. Burger took out the two-page hand-written letter from Emerson’s team teacher. She had written some twisted truths and out and out lies painting Emerson as some kind of foul-mouthed pervert.

“I object to the accusations against me,” Johnny blurted out. He was not given a copy of the letter to read.

“Save your comments for the end,” Mr. Burger advised. He went on reading the letter and then asked him, “Do you want to give me a written response?”

“Yes,” he said, “but first I want to see that letter and talk with my union representative.”

      Mr. Burger looked annoyed and wrote down on a pad in front of him “refuse to respond” as he spoke the words aloud.

“This letter will be sent to the superintendent’s office.”

Mr. Mitchell and Mr. Davinsky got up to leave but not before Mr. Hamm and Mr. Burger smilingly took Mr. Mitchell aside and showed him a curriculum lying on the table. Mr. Mitchell smiled back politely, glanced at the material, and left the room with him.

He was distraught from the intimidation and half-truths by his ‘team-teacher’. He stomped outside, unchained his bicycle, and raced home to call the union representative from his home school, Mr. Harry Combs. Combs calmed him down as they discussed the incident that day.

“I want to file charges against Mr. Hamm and Mr. Burger,”  he demanded.

“Let’s get your job back first,” he said.

“The union can’t let them get away with this!”

“What’s more important; doing the right thing or getting your job back?” questioned Harry.

“Doing the right thing; if the union does the right thing, I will get my job back!”

They decided that Emerson should report back to Murrow on Monday for reassignment. If Mr. Hamm and Mr. Burger chose to go through with the charade and make a case out of Emerson, he would respond after being formally charged. Meanwhile, Ms. Vole had made some phone calls and had gotten a temporary position at Clara Barton High School for him.

He regretted saying anything in his temporary ELA class that could have been misconstrued as unacceptable behavior. His job, he felt, as a teacher was to motivate students to learn and prepare to pass the English Regents. He was not a vile, foul-mouthed or mutinous team-player as his vindictive colleague stated. She did not seem “distressed” by his actions as she had stated. He had apologized and wished she had demonstrated more understanding and solidarity. He believed he was singled out and conspired against.

After the summer ended with him shifted around to three different high schools, the last one way out, in a “bad school” on Pennsylvania Avenue in Brownsville, a school not so bad at all, Emerson received a “satisfactory’ rating. Mr. Hamm and Mr. Burger had to accept the board’s placement of Johnny back at the ELA in Murrow the following summer. Their attempt to isolate Emerson for speaking out against the scrubbing didn’t work but his grievance against them was never heard.

      A year later, he went with his son to see a Met/Yankee baseball game at Shea Stadium on Teachers’ Day, with Mr. Harry Combs. They barely spoke. Frank Mortadella, the head of the Brooklyn branch of the UFT, he was told, sat ten rows back. “Go up there and thank him for helping you out,” Harry suggested. He did so, politely.

Harry had told Frank about his problem; just exactly what he said, he didn’t know. He had written a ten-page response to the charges against him, an indictment against the union that sent no representative to Murrow that summer. At the time, neither Harry nor Frank was interested in helping Emerson until he was formally charged. They had already decided what he was: A teacher with a big mouth who made a mistake and got into trouble. That was not the real story though. The union, Emerson learned, was not really interested in helping teachers do the right thing. They were not going to defend him; they were going to help Emerson get out of trouble without upsetting the system. Both Harry and Frank were most concerned by Emerson’s use of the acronym “f.u.c.k.” in the classroom. They admonished him for having said it even though he had never said the word in a foul way. Emerson realized he should have known better. After that summer, New York City would never be the same again.