The inevitable has happened. The world economy has ground to a halt and the nation casts their eyes to whom? Child Care providers.
"Work! Keep Working! We need you to work so we can give you our children so we can work!"
I ask, "Where we you all when I had no health insurance? When I survived on 13,000 a year? Where were you when I would ask for a living wage to be told that I did unskilled labor that anyone could do? Where were you when I got no sick time, and no vacation? When I came in with bronchitis or driving through dangerous conditions to get to my job so I could care for YOUR children?"
"But we need you! You are an essential service"
I ask, "Really? Because most of my work force lives in poverty. We qualify for SNAP benefits. We use food pantries. You've never paid me like I was an essential service. In fact you made me feel guilty for saying that I needed more. You told me I was greedy, that I wasn't in this for the money. We can not afford to send our own children to the places in which we employed to care for your children."
"But we can't work if you don't care for our kids! You can't be selfish! "
I pause. "I am not selfish. However, you don't get to abuse me for decades and then turn around, point at me, and demand that I accommodate you."
"But who will care for those sick and dying?"
I exhale. "Who will care for me? Where is my protective gear? Why is my health less valuable? When you pass new emergency laws raising ratios so I can take more children into my already crowded classrooms how does that help? Are you unaware that children spread disease faster than any other age group? What happens to me and my colleagues when we (inevitably) get sick? Who cares for MY children?"
I start to close my door. You jam your foot into it.
"You must work! We can talk about what you deserve later. You must work now"
I push the door close as I say
"My profession and our bodies are not your cannon fodder. I told you this day would come. You ignored me. You stepped on me and my colleagues over and over and over. People wrung their hands and said "Yes, you deserve so much more", but more never came.
Your promises are empty. You will forget about us as soon as this crisis passes. Care for your own children. We hear it is easy unskilled work not worth a living wage. Not worth health insurance. Not worth education. "
I lock my door.
"Work! Keep Working! We need you to work so we can give you our children so we can work!"
I ask, "Where we you all when I had no health insurance? When I survived on 13,000 a year? Where were you when I would ask for a living wage to be told that I did unskilled labor that anyone could do? Where were you when I got no sick time, and no vacation? When I came in with bronchitis or driving through dangerous conditions to get to my job so I could care for YOUR children?"
"But we need you! You are an essential service"
I ask, "Really? Because most of my work force lives in poverty. We qualify for SNAP benefits. We use food pantries. You've never paid me like I was an essential service. In fact you made me feel guilty for saying that I needed more. You told me I was greedy, that I wasn't in this for the money. We can not afford to send our own children to the places in which we employed to care for your children."
"But we can't work if you don't care for our kids! You can't be selfish! "
I pause. "I am not selfish. However, you don't get to abuse me for decades and then turn around, point at me, and demand that I accommodate you."
"But who will care for those sick and dying?"
I exhale. "Who will care for me? Where is my protective gear? Why is my health less valuable? When you pass new emergency laws raising ratios so I can take more children into my already crowded classrooms how does that help? Are you unaware that children spread disease faster than any other age group? What happens to me and my colleagues when we (inevitably) get sick? Who cares for MY children?"
I start to close my door. You jam your foot into it.
"You must work! We can talk about what you deserve later. You must work now"
I push the door close as I say
"My profession and our bodies are not your cannon fodder. I told you this day would come. You ignored me. You stepped on me and my colleagues over and over and over. People wrung their hands and said "Yes, you deserve so much more", but more never came.
Your promises are empty. You will forget about us as soon as this crisis passes. Care for your own children. We hear it is easy unskilled work not worth a living wage. Not worth health insurance. Not worth education. "
I lock my door.
