learning the game
Apr. 19th, 2004 04:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
adrian_turtleA week ago, I was walking home from the bus stop in the town center. It was about 45 F, and not quite raining. I was coming home early enough that it wasn't really dark yet. A small crowd was gathering on the steps of the town hall, shouting about the town's contract with the teachers' union, and the teachers' willingness to work without contracts. I stopped for a few minutes, to listen and connect with the community and offer moral support. Because I don't have children, or pay the property taxes that support the schools (obviously, my landlord uses part of my rent to pay tax, but I'm not directly involved in that accounting), it's easy for me to ignore school budget disputes. Yet I want this to be the kind of town that invests in good schools, the kind of town that pays teachers decently.
I merged with one edge of the crowd, where a little boy was trying to climb the bike rack, so he'd be tall enough to see everyone. When the speaker with the megaphone paused, the boy would announce how many people he recognized from his elementary school, or name some of them. The town has a great many dedicated teachers. Yes, of course, everybody clap and cheer. (Well, it hurts my hands too much to clap. I stamp my feet instead. But you get the idea.) After 3 years of budget cuts and staff reductions, yet another year without raises is frustrating. The crowd expresses angry agreement. Another speaker took the megaphone and started shouting that the town should continue providing health insurance benefits to these wonderful teachers. Oh my gracious! Are they really considering taking that away? Did the union have a petition I could sign, or did they just want me to stand there and yell? The little boy on the bike rack pointed out his principal, and I tried to go over and talk with her, thinking she would know what was going on.
The crowd wasn't really very big - there might have been 75 people on the town hall steps, filling the little patio, and clustered on the sidewalk in front of the hall. As I moved out from behind a tall family with broad shoulders and heavy coats, I saw the police flashers. A police car was parked directly in front of the town hall (blocking the fire hydrant), with its emergency strobe going. I don't know if they thought it would make anyone safer. Or if the policeman behind the wheel just wanted to listen to the shouting, or show some sort of solidarity between police and teachers.
I was having an increasingly hard time with the strobe light in the gathering dusk. As many of you know, flashing lights are major migraine triggers for me. It bothers me that so many public gatherings are now coming with these parked police cars with the flashing lights. I don't know if it's a new bit of pseudosecurity, trying to increase police visibility, and not caring about people with problems like photosensitive epilepsy.
I pulled my hood forward, over my face, and stumbled the rest of the way home. I was feeling awful. Because the night doesn't belong to us anymore. It has to be secured.
I merged with one edge of the crowd, where a little boy was trying to climb the bike rack, so he'd be tall enough to see everyone. When the speaker with the megaphone paused, the boy would announce how many people he recognized from his elementary school, or name some of them. The town has a great many dedicated teachers. Yes, of course, everybody clap and cheer. (Well, it hurts my hands too much to clap. I stamp my feet instead. But you get the idea.) After 3 years of budget cuts and staff reductions, yet another year without raises is frustrating. The crowd expresses angry agreement. Another speaker took the megaphone and started shouting that the town should continue providing health insurance benefits to these wonderful teachers. Oh my gracious! Are they really considering taking that away? Did the union have a petition I could sign, or did they just want me to stand there and yell? The little boy on the bike rack pointed out his principal, and I tried to go over and talk with her, thinking she would know what was going on.
The crowd wasn't really very big - there might have been 75 people on the town hall steps, filling the little patio, and clustered on the sidewalk in front of the hall. As I moved out from behind a tall family with broad shoulders and heavy coats, I saw the police flashers. A police car was parked directly in front of the town hall (blocking the fire hydrant), with its emergency strobe going. I don't know if they thought it would make anyone safer. Or if the policeman behind the wheel just wanted to listen to the shouting, or show some sort of solidarity between police and teachers.
I was having an increasingly hard time with the strobe light in the gathering dusk. As many of you know, flashing lights are major migraine triggers for me. It bothers me that so many public gatherings are now coming with these parked police cars with the flashing lights. I don't know if it's a new bit of pseudosecurity, trying to increase police visibility, and not caring about people with problems like photosensitive epilepsy.
I pulled my hood forward, over my face, and stumbled the rest of the way home. I was feeling awful. Because the night doesn't belong to us anymore. It has to be secured.
