Heart of Wisconsin

I shared this with Democracy Addicts on Facebook, and a couple of them encouraged me to put it in my blog.

Context: This week, the Assembly and Senate passed a budget that guts programs and will hurt people's lives in real ways, for a long time to come. I understand the need for fiscal responsibility. I could even be persuaded, perhaps, that some of the budget cuts are necessary. What has been especially hard for me has been the nearly complete lack of compassion and understanding and listening from legislators who support these cuts. I don't expect them to listen and then automatically change their minds. I do, however, expect them to listen and to respond in ways that acknowledge their constituents' views, concerns, and experiences.


Late last night, the Senate passed its version to send on to the governor. This morning, someone posted, "How are you all doing today? Who needs cheering up to get ready for the next phase of this fight?" I read this post on my cellphone as I was leaving Waukesha Public Library. All the way home, I thought about it, and when I got home I posted this:

Last night I felt heartsick and betrayed. Today, I am doing surprisingly well.

This morning, I woke up to a sunny southeastern Wisconsin day. I played with the dog, enjoyed my coffee, hung laundry out on the line, and was reminded that there will continue to be some normalcy, even as I adjust to how the budget will affect my own life.

Then I thought about those who spoke so passionately in the Assembly and the Senate on behalf of all who will be affected by the budget. Surely they knew that their words and passion would not affect the outcome--yet they still made the effort. Theirs are the words and speeches that will be remembered in years to come. Their persistence and compassion inspire me. If they can spend three weeks in various hotels and homes, stay up for hours fighting a battle they know they won't win, and still sound as passionate and dedicated as they did in mid-February, then I can certainly keep going for a while yet as we regroup and forge ahead.

And then, I came here, to find that someone I've never even met in person is caring enough to check in on all of us, to acknowledge the challenges and encourage us to move forward. And I know that the heart of Wisconsin beats onward.

Retirement

Yesterday I helped celebrate the retirement of a dear colleague.

As I often am at retirement parties, I was struck by two things: the welcoming arms of the already-retired and the heartache of those who are left behind.

The already-retired enjoy the fellowship of the occasion, as they share tales of travels, grandchildren, and gardening. They are full of joy for the celebrant who is joining their ranks.

Those who remain in the workplace, though, are a bit heartsick. In our case yesterday, we were celebrating the retirement of someone who is both loved and respect, a wise, gentle, and insightful woman who has been a role model to so many of us. It was hard to congratulate her on a decision I am mourning.

This particular retirement is hitting some of us very hard. I'm sure that come fall, with Peggy absent from our meetings, our hallway, our presence, we will miss her all the more.

Still, life goes on. At my previous job, the first time one of my colleagues retired I was distraught. I couldn't imagine what our department would be like without him. With time, I was able to see how life goes on, and work goes on. New people bring new ideas and new energy. They change the place in unpredictable ways, even while a good colleague leaves much of herself behind. Part of the retired person stays with us, and we'll move on as a mashup of those who have moved on as well as those who continue or join.

The Teaparty and the Dent in the Bucket

"The only way to fix a dent in the bucket is from the inside," according to my father-in-law the retired farmer. If you want to make change, work within the system. As I've watched the state and national political scenes lately, I've been wondering about whether that's even possible. I've thought that maybe we need to throw out the whole bucket and start over again.

But then I got thinking today about Walker's Budget Repair Bill and the potential it has to shift things in major ways in Wisconsin.

Look at the Teaparty, ALEC, and the Koch conglomerate. They've been studying us (and by this, I mean liberals) for a long time. They know what our message is (and that we don't really have one). They've developed goals, a process, and even a toolkit for legislators. They've provided money to Republican candidates. Now that those candidates have been elected, they are putting into action the desired policies and changes.

I don't like those changes, but I have to acknowledge that if these proposals are put into place, we would see major changes. The loss of collective bargaining for public employees alone would lead to significant changes across the state in how school districts function and how teachers live and work. And that is only one of the changes.

So I have to give credit to the Teaparty/ALEC/Koch-ers. They knew exactly what they wanted to change, and they found a way to work within the system to effect that change. Although I personally think they are not fixing a dent as much as completely reshaping the bucket and putting some  holes into it, I acknowledge the planning and the effort involved and admire that they found a way to work within the system.

Now, if only the folks I agree with could pull themselves together as well, I'd be a pretty happy camper.

Edited to add: Read this article and it becomes very clear how they have used the system to effect change.

When Is It Time?

One question that keeps popping into my mind is, "When is it time?"

Early on in "the troubles," the cashier at the grocery store asked if we were having a revolution. I flippantly responded, "Not yet!"

Here we are nearly four months later, and I'm watching disagreement among the resistance regarding when civil disobedience should become uncivil disobedience.

I am sensing a desperation that combines frustration, fear, and anger.

My view has always been, in the words of my farmer father-in-law, that the only way to fix a dent in the bucket is from the inside. In other words, we effect change by working within the system. Use the processes that have been put in place and forged over time to determine what is best and work to make it happen.

Lately, though, I'm finding myself thinking that sometimes, you just have to throw the biucket out and get a new one.

I've been to quite a few Republican events with my husband, and yesterday and today I worked the information desk at the Democratic convention. Both parties work the same. They trot out their platform and then spend the whole time bragging about how great they are and how horrible the other guys are.

Really? This is how we make change happen?

I am thrilled to have gotten to be part of the convention experience. I had lots of wonderful chats and even got to meet one of my #wiunon twitter friends. This morning, I had a powerful conversation with a Vietnam combat veteran who works to support veterans affairs in the state.

But no one was taking about changing or improving anything. Everything was about taking the state back.

I was so disheartened to feel like I'm a prop in a statewide game of keep-away.

So when is it time to be drastic? Do we want to change things, or do we just want to change them back?

How do we know when it is time?

Complexity and Humanity

I've gotten some interesting feedback on my last post. People (some I know in real life and even more that I don't) have sent me messages about my decision not to protest when Walker visited his niece's grade school in Waukesha yesterday. Mostly, the comments have been really supportive. Others, however, have suggested that I'm giving up the fight or that I'm just having a rough patch. They tell me to stay strong and get back in fighting form.

Hmm. I work very hard to stay focused on policies, issues, and processes--and not on people or personalities. This has never been as much of a challenge as it has since February 11 of this year, when Walker introduced his Budget Repair Bill and I learned who the Fitzgerald brothers are.

I have always tried to think of the humanity of those with whom I disagree. I want to understand other points of view--not so I can engage in debate but so I can better understand issues and challenges and so we can find ways to work together to do what is best for the most people. This is how I approach my political views, my personal relationships, and professional challenges. It is an essential aspect of who I am and how I interact with my world. It is a core part of me, and to act differently is to become something other than what I am.

When I talk with people with a more conservative viewpoint, I am able to be respectful of their views. Once I understand why someone thinks in a particular way, it helps me better understand how to discuss my views with that person. I need to connect with others as humans, none of whom is perfect.

I admire those who fight strong. Those who protest frequently, those who confront our legislators as they walk into the Capitol, those who expose behind-the-scenes conversations and procedures, and those who engage in public debate are vital in effecting change. I'm just not good at those things. We all need to play to our strengths, and mine are in seeking common ground, attempting to understand, and being mindful of the humanity of all (even my enemies). These are not particularly visible qualities; that does not mean they are unimportant.

Not all who are on the same side of an issue need to be doing the same things. The Wisconsin political climate is more divisive than I ever could have imagined. I am also seeing some divisiveness in how people talk to and about people who are on the same side (including but not limited to me).

I have spent a lot of time listening. I've written to my legislators. I've protested. I've asked questions. I expressed outrage at certain actions, and I sobbed when I thought of how many women with HPV will go untreated because of the funding being taken away from women's health clinics. I have never been so distracted in my life, and this experience has been burned into my heart and mind permanently.

I am angry. I am outraged. I am horrified. I am appalled. I am resolved. I am hurt. I am many things, and I feel many things. But that does not mean that I should not be able to recognize and appreciate the humanity and the views of others.

I saw a video of Walker's visit to his niece's school. I was able to set aside my feelings about his actions as I watched a little girl introduce him, saying, "This is my uncle." Her affection for him was genuine.

It reminded me that we are all complex individuals. Walker is not just Darth Walker, master Koch puppet, doer of evil, and other terms I've heard applied to him. He is also a little girl's uncle and a human being.

The moment I forget that, I have lost a part of my soul.

Why I'm Not Protesting Tomorrow (Much to My Surprise)

Ever since February 11, I've felt envious of those who could protest Walker directly. Protesting at the capitol is amazing, but every time, I was aware that he wasn't there, that I wasn't reaching the person responsible for the constant fear and anxiety I've had for over three months now. A while back, he was in Waukesha, but I couldn't participate in the protest because I had something else scheduled. I was so disappointed.

Last night, I found out that he will be in Waukesha tomorrow, at Banting Elementary School, at a time when I am completely free. My grades are done and turned in, summer school doesn't start for three weeks, so I am in the clear. I have been disheartened and wearied by the continuing lack of compassion I am seeing from my governor and so many legislators. Do they not know what they are doing to people's lives, or do they just not care? Where is the compassion? A chance to protest without having to drive to Madison is rare.

Imagine my surprise when I realized how conflicted I felt about the idea of protesting him tomorrow.

I admire the people who show up again and again throughout the state to protest Walker. He never goes anywhere without the presence of people reminding him that we are watching him and we are unhappy. He can't even go fishing without protesters in a boat along side him. (Really, that was so awesome!) I get how important that is.

I also understand how important it is for children today to be aware of what is happening in our state. Seeing protesters outside their school is something they will remember for the rest of their lives. They will take a history class in high school or college. The subject of labor rights will come up, and they will know that they were witnesses to part of that history. We should not shield them from the fact that people are unhappy with what the governor is doing. We should celebrate the fact that protesting and gathering peacefully is one of the great rights of living in this nation.

So why am I so conflicted?

When we lived in southwestern Illinois, my husband was involved in campaigning for Republican candidates for various offices. Yes, I even voted for some of them. At one campaign event, I shook hands with Jim Edgar, who I knew would be elected governor. I felt giddy. There was something about the office of governor that was so exciting to me. No matter who inhabited that office, I knew that I would always be thrilled that I got to shake the hand of a future governor.

Maybe that's part of the thing for me. No matter who the governor is and what he is doing, he is the governor. School children should get to experience the excitement of the occasion. It is a big deal. I am grateful to see the calls for protests at schools to be silent--but even a silent protest is visible. I don't like the thought of children looking through their classroom windows to see adults holding signs--a sight most children wouldn't be familiar with. I think it could be confusing and even disturbing, even while providing an opportunity to learn about our rights and history.

And what about the governor? I love that everywhere he goes, his presence is protested. It sends an important message and, I hope, it makes it more stressful for him to do his job in the way he's been doing. I want him to feel stressed as he is doing things that damage lives in real ways. However, if there is one time when the governor should feel unharried and happy, it is when he is meeting with school children.

Here was the clincher for me: I read that his niece goes to Banting. I have four nieces and three nephews. I want them to be proud of me, and if I were to visit their schools, I would want them to feel  thrilled to have me there. Despite my feelings about Walker, his niece is a child. She deserves the chance to be excited that her Uncle Scott the governor is coming to visit her school, without the distraction of people holding signs outside the school. It is for her and the other children that I cannot bring myself to protest tomorrow.

It is just my way of showing some of the compassion that has been lacking in my elected officials lately, even while I respect that others will feel very different and will be there at Banting to greet the governor.

Juggling Rhythms

I spent yesterday at the University of Wisconsin Colloquium/Engaging Students in the First Year Conference. It was odd, as it was the first time I was there without an ESFY title. In some respects, I felt a bit out of sorts, being in a familiar place with an unfamiliar role.

In the past year, as I've returned to full-time teaching, I've been reminded how much I really do love teaching and working with students. My presentation yesterday was about teaching and working with students. It was a pilot program that went well, and it was a real treat to get to talk about that. It felt like a nice capstone to my year.

In the afternoon, I found myself talking to some colleagues at UW-Marathon County who both hold split positions--part teaching and part administrative. As I listened to them talk about the projects and reports they have ahead of them in the coming weeks, I got a big smile on my face--and they knew exactly why.

One of my biggest challenges and frustrations at a split appointment was that I had to exist on two different sets of rhythms. As a teacher, there are times of the semester and year that are particularly intense and stressful (like the end of the semester, always). Fortunately, those times are usually followed by some down times that have a more relaxed pace. I can have several days in a row of really intense and draining reading and grading, and then I have some time when I can rest, reflect, and even step aside from my work for a bit. It kind of balances out.

Administrative work, however, is completely different. There are reports to be written, budgets to be wrapped up, meetings to hold (and in the UW Colleges, these are mostly teleconferences due to the geographic distribution of our 13 campuses and the central office), and work to continuously plan and implement. Full-time administrators rest and recover using very non-academic sounding leave called vacation days. Part-time administrators/part-time instructors don't exactly have these. Because of the demands of the end of the semester as an instructor, some administrative work is set aside for the days and weeks after grades are turned in.

What this all amounts to is that people in split appointments rarely have downtime. I never got to enjoy being done with the semester in a way that was truly recuperative. Instead, I would have to kick back into high administrator mode. Juggling two entirely different sets of rhythms is hard. While I certainly miss some aspects of the work I used to do and the ways I got to work with people I liked and respected, I am happy to simply be an instructor who does a little bit of advising on the side. It is much, much easier on my ability to take deep cleansing breaths.