Non-Essential Personnel

Last week I had my students make zines of essential personnel from labor history.

This week I received two lovely reminders of the impact I typically have on people. A friend from back in my grad school days told me that whenever she eats bananas, she thinks of them as cool both at home and at school. This is due to an awesome poster I’ve had for decades and still hang in my kitchen:

The other was in a note from a dear friend’s daughter, who is graduating from high school this year. In it she thanked me for introducing her to King of the Hill (back when I lived with her parents when she was a toddler).

Both of these acknowledgements delighted me, and felt like a window into how people see me. As the world and my role in it has felt so heavy lately, I’ve been thinking back a lot recently about how many years I have clung to the notion of being “non-essential personnel.” I got this idea from the title of a sermon my father gave once. While I could not tell you what the point or message of his sermon was, the title has always stuck with me. I know it’s a flaw of mine, but I love NOT being the one people turn to in a crisis. Unless of course your crisis calls for silly jokes or King of the Hill quotes, and to be honest, I think both have gotten me through some pretty rough times, so maybe consider it the next time you’re in crisis. In that case, feel free to give me a call.

Most of the time I don’t bring what my daughter would call “main character energy” to my life. I generally aspire to be the wryly sarcastic sidekick to whatever person in the room does bring that energy. I do want to bring good into the world, but I always see my role as a cog in the goodness machine, not on the front lines leading the charge against the forces of evil. This is, no doubt, partly due to laziness, but also an acknowledgement that I function best in a supportive role. The good news is there is no shortage of opportunities to seek out these roles in our time.

The bad news is two of my main roles, as teacher and mother, are often treated as if we should see ourselves as the main character. I cringe a little every time I see a mug or t-shirt that says something about how being a teacher is my superpower, even though I understand that the goal of these kinds of slogans is to build us up as we do our jobs. I do think teachers are very important and can change kids’ lives and I hope that I have had a positive impact on the students who have passed through my classrooms over the years. The truth is, nothing would make me happier than to be cast as a supporting character in the story of a main character student out there changing the world. I think one thing I love about teaching is that it isn’t ultimately about me, but about how I can help my students realize their potential. I take the role seriously, even as I have yet to learn to take myself seriously. This is why, instead of having a sticker on my filing cabinet that talks about my superpower, I have one that says, “No one knows what they’re doing.”

This past week I introduced one of my classes to zines (something I confess I hadn’t heard of until substack but now am crazy about) and had them research key figures in American labor history to write zines about. I realized I didn’t know nearly as much as I should about the struggles of workers and unions in our nation’s history, and my students didn’t either. I wanted them to see how far we’ve come and how much work it took to get here. As we shared each others’ work, we also talked about how none of these leaders were without flaws, because even main characters aren’t always angels. It’s my hope that just maybe one of them can grow up to be a leader in their field someday. Even if they don’t, perhaps they can join me in the ranks of the supporting cast. Every strong main character needs an army of supporters if they want to accomplish anything of impact.

Particularly supporters who are cool both at home and at school.