I’ve just come home from my first stint at the teachers’ protest at my school. We’re not actually supposed to call it a picket line, because technically, we aren’t permitted to stop anyone from entering the school so we’re not technically picketing. We do still have the right to protest, though (till the government creates a law making that illegal too, I suppose), so we’re calling it a protest.
We’re also not allowed to put our signs on string and hang them around our necks. Somehow, that equals picketing. So we’re carrying them in our hands or some teachers have stapled theirs to pieces of wood that they’re carrying. Somehow, that equals protesting.
Anyway, of course it was pouring rain and windy. I am soaked through and through! Fortunately, it wasn’t super cold out, so at least I wasn’t freezing as well. I had worn long johns under my jeans, plus a heavy turtleneck sweater and my down parka, so I was prepared for the temperature. My footwear left a lot to be desired, however, as barely an hour in and my feet were sloshing in my leather shoes. I hadn’t wanted to wear my boots, because I didn’t think I could pace comfortably up and down in front of the school for three hours in them, so I thought my leather shoes might work. They didn’t. I’ll have to come up with a Plan B if it’s raining tomorrow.
We seemed to get more support than anger from people driving by, too. There was a lot of honking and waving and thumbs up. I only saw one person giving us a thumbs down, and one guy gave us the finger.
I sure hope that guy won’t mind if his kid is ever in a class of 35 students, 15 of whom have special learning needs, and the teacher has an educational assistant in to help only twice a week for an hour or so.