Here are a few thoughts from an educator: Regardless of how we feel about how Minneapolis or St. Paul schools have managed their budgets, we have a larger systemic crisis that was going on long before the pandemic ("MPS strikes; SPPS averts walkout," front page, March 8). Public schools are woefully understaffed for what society expects us to do. This is not news. It's been going on forever in American society. Teachers are being asked to take on duties that they neither have the resources to tackle or the appropriate training to execute with competence, mental-health needs topping the lengthy list.
More than ever in my teaching career I hear my colleagues saying things like this to students' families: "I'm sorry you are going through this. I don't have the answers, and I'm not sure where to direct you other than our support staff, but that might take a while because they have so many students in their care."
Start at the top. Go to your legislators and others who drive funding and policy. This nonsense going through our Legislature right now in Minnesota is simply a distraction from what our students and educators need to be successful. Demand that our lawmakers actually go into schools and shadow teachers — not just do a photo-op. Demand more understanding of what students are experiencing as a result of increased mental-health needs. Demand more knowledge of the challenges faced by educators and then ask yourself, "Should teachers be responsible for these needs?"
Demand that lawmakers actually ask teachers, "What do you need to be successful?" I started my teaching career 27 years ago, and I can count on one hand how many times I've been asked by the higher-ups, "What do you need? What are your ideas? Do you have any solutions based on what you see from your direct experience?"
We cannot honestly say that we put kids first in our country. This should be our day of reckoning.
Sarah Brookner, Minneapolis
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Thirty years ago I took a job as a support professional working 10 hours a week supervising kids for $10 an hour in the lunch room at what is now Justice Page Middle School in south Minneapolis. While we were opening stubborn milk cartons for the kindergarten small-fry and doing our best to channel middle school enthusiasm for all things chaos, I commented to one of the veteran teachers that I was "just" an educational assistant. "'Just'!" she said. "We couldn't make it without you guys! We need you, me, the bus drivers, engineers, food service folks — everybody! It's all hands on deck!"