The Education Lie

I stand in front of my classroom looking at their faces, some wary, some eager. The students are a true United Nations. They come from Africa, the Middle East, Asia, Central America, the inner city of Columbus, Ohio, and farmland around Columbus. Their skin colors vary from shiny pinkish-white to cafe au lait to burnished mahogany. Their hair styles range from dreadlocks to frizzy pony tails to purple stripes to close-cut shaved heads. Some of the women wear burkas or headscarves. They range in age from 17 to their early 40s. The only thing they have in common is me, standing at the front of the room.

I'm like an actor, especially in these first few classes. I feel the energy rushing through me as I try by sheer verve alone to unite them in their goal to pass this class, an English composition class.  
I promise them that this is only a stepping stone to the rest of their college career. That writing good papers can help pull out a grade in any class where they might be struggling. "This isn't just to torture you," I pledge.
But this time, I feel like a fraud.
I am telling them that education can save them from a life of poverty. That education will give them a love and a passion for life and learning.
I know some of these students will go on to earn their associate's degree. Even fewer will earn a bachelor's degree. Maybe a couple will go on to get a master's degree, like me, or a PhD or law degree.
But the lie I am telling them catches in my throat.
Get a master's degree and you can teach college; I want to encourage them, but I know that the changes made at my college mean that even if I teach all the hours adjuncts are allowed -- if I teach through the summer and am lucky enough to get a fully allowed schedule -- I can earn about $17,000 this year.
The salary I will earn with my master's degree is just a touch more than what I would earn working a full-time, minimum wage job.
Teaching as an adjunct has always been tricky, but our college used to allow us to work up to 30 hours per week. That brought home a decent salary, certainly  nowhere near the poverty line.

Last year, like most schools in Ohio, we switched to semesters. That cut down on some of the hours we could teach.
Then in the summer, they declared adjuncts could work a maximum of 22 hours, as per the IRS rules. But wait, they had more.
We could work 22 hours, but they counted each teaching hour as two hours rather than one. That meant we could teach 11 hours and they would count it as 22 hours, but we'd be paid for only 11 hours.
Yeah, let that sink in for a minute. We get paid for 11 hours, but they count it as 22 hours.
In 2013, I earned $18,000 less than I did in 2012. I'll earn even less in 2014.
Yet I stand in front of these students, and they trust me. They trust me to teach them, to be enthusiastic and supportive.
And I will. The students haven't let me down. And education is still a good way out of poverty, but the route hasn't served some of us as well.
All I can do is cross my fingers for these students and plunge in, hoping they'll follow, and for this semester, continue their dreams of a middle-class life.

Saturday Snapshot -- Student Success

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme, post a photo that you (or a friend of family member) have taken. Then leave a direct link to your post on West Metro Mommy. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don't post random photos that you find online.
For me, as an adjunct college professor, the hours are long and the rewards are few.
Lucky for me, I have a husband with a good job and health insurance. So the work as an adjunct means a paycheck to help send my kids to college. Lately, things have taken a turn for worse. We used to be able to teach 15 hours per semester then work as tutors up to 15 hours more. That gave me a nice paycheck.
Blaming the new health care laws, the college is now restricting those hours to 11 teaching hours and no tutoring hours. And, they are counting the teaching hours as double -- 22 hours, even though they are paying us for 11 hours. They say they have to limit part-time workers to a total of 22 hours instead of 30.
Obviously, my salary this year is dropping, but my kids' college payments are going up. I feel like a fraud standing in front of my classes and telling them that education will help them make it in the world. I have a master's degree and I'm still getting the shaft from the system.
But this morning, I got an email from a former student that boosted my spirits a bit. She sent along a photo too.

Nubia was in my English composition class last fall. One of the assignments was to write a paper analyzing an athletic ad. Nubia chose an ad with a stationary bicycle that has a computer screen attached to help the riders envision bicycling in California or the south of France. The next paper, Nubia had to choose a new career or hobby to write about. She decided to investigate what it would take to complete a triathalon. And this photo shows me that she did just that. 

I told you that  I was going to send you the pictures of me at the end of the triathlon.
I did it. I had fun and Im very proud of myself. It is funny but everything started with the paper from your class :)

 So this morning, I'm feeling better about being a teacher. I may not be able to pay my kids' college bills, but that's what parent loans are for. And for some students, I do help change their lives.

The State of Denial

Isn't it funny how we block out things we don't want to think about?
I have some friends who are masters at it, and I call them on it all the time. But I didn't realize how much I deny when I'd just rather not deal with difficulties.
This realization came on Monday afternoon when my friend Ruth in Michigan called.
"What's going on? How was your weekend?" she asked.
I knew that Ruth had a big birthday party over the weekend, so I paused for just a minute trying to remember my weekend.
"Nothing much," I said. "I babysat for the girls on Saturday evening and Sunday morning. So that was fun. Fought with Spencer about whether college students have curfews, the usual. How bout you?"
Then I paused so she could tell me the details of her party.
After the party overview, I said, "Oh, did I tell you about my job?"
I'd found out Friday that the college where I teach is cutting back on hours for adjuncts, which basically means I need to start looking for a new job. The excuse is the new IRS rules which only allows us 18 hours per week rather than 30 -- and that's 18 contact hours, so only 9 hours that we are getting paid for. It's complicated, but means about half of the paychecks I was earning before so the college can avoid having to contribute to health insurance for adjuncts.
"And," I continued, "did I tell you that Grace drove the car through the back of the garage on Sunday?"
"What? No."
I explained that Grace thought she had clipped a bike tire as she was pulling into the garage and in trying to slam on the brakes, she hit the gas instead.
Crash! Thunk!.

I was in the kitchen when I looked into the backyard to see this.
I went running out and had to go around to the big garage door to reach Grace.
She was okay. Just shaken up, as anyone would be.
"So maybe my weekend wasn't as fine as I said earlier," I admitted.
"I guess not," Ruth laughed. And that's when I remembered the latest thing, the biggest, scariest thing.
"Oh, and my mom just called from Dad's heart test. They're doing triple bypass surgery tomorrow."
"Oh, no," Ruth said. "I'm sorry."
I was too.
But I can write about it now because the surgery is complete and he came through "a textbook" patient, which I hope is good.
I can't fly to be with my mom in Florida, but my brother is on his way and should be there soon to help her with the hospital visits.
So, other than needing to find a new job, get the car repaired, get the garage repaired, and my dad undergoing major surgery, the weekend was fine.
I wasn't in denial at all.