I Wish Joni Mitchell Would Write A Song About Karma

Just when I thought I could resist reading any letter to the editor in Idaho Falls, it happened. I take a quick glance at titles, refuse to allow it to act upon my day, and do the crossword. It helps to do that ritual, because if I read one of the letters, I undoubtedly get angry. It's kind of like that movie The Sixth Sense, except unlike the young boy. I see stupid people. And they irritate me.

So when I opened the paper on Wednesday, January 28, I began the ritual true to form, and then it appeared: a title in bold letters. It was like the late 50's horror film I once saw entitled, From Hell It Came!

Teachers must sacrifice

There has been much discussion on what the state government must do to stay within a balanced budget during these sad economic times. When the subject of budget cuts surfaces and especially eduactrion cuts are suggested, the uproar begins. In the "Our View" section of the Post Register on January 14, the article states that if education gets less, then the quality of teaching will be less. For every 10 dollars, nine goes to salaraies and benefits.

Being in the building business, I know what it means to have to bid on projects including homes for teachers. If I want the job, I must bid the project at the lowest possible cost, but the people do not want the lowest possible quality. No, they still insist on the best top quality as if I were the highest bidder. Where is the double standard today? Everyone should have to sacrifice at a time when economical tough times occur.

Perhaps teachers should bid for their jobs and experience what everyone in teh competitive world has had to do forever.

Now, I don't have any problem with the word sacrifice. As a teacher I did it for 25 years. I never owned a car that didn't have over 100,000 miles on it before I purchased another, except for the last red Ford I owned with a bad transmission, but that is another story.

I also spent thousands of dollars every year out of my own pocket buying classroom materials and doing other things that I didn't have to do. It was money that I chose to do, but it was a sacrifice for my family. And money is only the beginning. I sacrificed a great deal of time too. Whether after or before school, I spent hours in my classroom creating an atmosphere that students could enjoy and developing materials that would help them learn. It is what you do as a teacher. I did it, and I know others who did it and still do.

I paced for a while. During the afternoon, I even listened to some mellow 60's music that usually has a calming effect, but it didn't work. Then I turned to the annoying journalists on ESPN who hate some of my favorite teams and ridicule some of my favorite players. I thought, Hey maybe they can annoy me enough to forget about the man from Sugar City who obviously hates teachers. But like the not so nice woman in The Wizard of Oz--who by the way reminds me of my fourth grade teacher (See, I dislike a few in my profession for good reason too, but it doesn't make all teachers bad.)--I hated the man and his little letter too.

My letter began to form in my mind, and suddenly there was this smile that began to crawl across my face. I sat at the computer, while my Annie watched something on TV. "What are you doing Jon?"

She knew I was up to something. She saw all the danger signs of my having read another one of those--in her words and not mine--damn letters to the editor in the Post Register. And then I looked at the finished copy. I can never be sure, but as I looked at it, the words "It's alive!" came from my mouth. I smiled in satisfaction with my creation.

As a retired teacher, I gratefully acknowledge the Sugar City businessman who is a builder and who took it upon himself to teach me and other educators what we should have done years ago—giving our expertise to the highest bidder.

I never succumbed to the highest bid when it came to teaching, and after 25 years—almost 16 of which were in a district whose students were exactly why I am glad I didn’t go for the highest bid when a job in Oregon came calling, when a job in Nevada came calling, and even when a job in California came calling—I stayed because I believed in what I was doing here.

And so did many other excellent teachers, who in the past 25 years have not seen exorbitant pay or benefit increases. That’s why you, as a builder, don’t build expensive homes for teachers, and that’s why you don’t see new, expensive cars in their driveways every year either.

You see, teachers believed that the state and even individual school districts would use “rainy day funds” when economic bad weather appeared, but call me pessimistic if you must, but I always knew what politicians and officials would do when that day came: initiating cuts rather than using those funds for schools.

Don’t you love people who always think someone else deserves to stand in line at the local soup kitchen? When the new world emerges for teachers, maybe you could submit a bid on my outhouse.

I was so pleased with myself. "I've got a letter to the editor I want you to read," I said to my Annie.

"Please don't. It took months for some people to forget about the last one. I don't want the hate stares at church, and I don't want you to be a whacko, just like the others who write letters to the editor."

I would do anything for my wife, except throw away my collection of Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin or Emerson, Lake and Palmer CD's. So I put my response on my blog.