My Journey Through Due Process

Reflecting on the past weekend with the Kansas legislature voting in a new school finance package, which includes stripping teachers of due process, I am sad, disgusted, and angry. And I won’t even waste time trying to explain the difference between having tenure, which Kansas teachers do not have, and having due process, which Kansas teachers will no longer have if—and probably when—our governor signs the bill into law. Granted, anyone can provide a list of reasons explaining why teachers need due process; however, although I’m now retired from the K-12 public school system, I’d like to share my personal list of reasons because there’s a great likelihood that, without my having had due process beginning with my fourth year in the classroom, I may not be able to claim today that I’m in my 41^st year of teaching in the state of Kansas.

Without due process, I may have been unwilling to maintain high standards in the classroom. For example, as an English teacher, I occasionally had to deal with students cheating on assignments. I’ve always considered there to be four options when dealing with cheating: 1) Give a zero. Period. 2) Give a zero but provide an opportunity for the student to do the assignment over. 3) Give the student a warning not to cheat again—a hand slap, if you will. 4) Ignore the situation because dealing with the student and his/her parents is too much of a hassle. Usually, I opted for #2, meaning that I was usually in for a hassle every time. In the worst instance, I dealt with an extremely popular and capable student cheating on a book report with one of her friends. When I responsibly called home, her father, who was obviously ready for my call, responded loudly, angrily, and obscenely, falsely accusing ME of inappropriate behavior. My shock was on several levels as this was not just any parent, but one who was a respectable dentist in the small community in which I taught. Fortunately, my principal backed me; however, another principal might not have done so. In fact, another principal might have been a best friend with that parent, or worst yet, that principal—or my superintendent or a school board member—could have been the parent of the child who cheated. Without due process, the risk might have been too great for me to confront all involved, causing me to skip to option #4. On that same note, depending upon who the student and parents are or what the relationships are between those parents and my administrators, I could be influenced when I give grades, serve on scholarship committees, lead the selection process for cheerleading or the school musical, or submit eligibility reports on student athletes. Without due process, the results of these decisions might not have mirrored which students, indeed, earned these honors.

Without due process, I may not have been able to advocate for my students. On a professional level, I will be so bold as to say that I’ve ignited a spark in hundreds of students by inspiring them to love reading and writing. Leading students to books that interest them, despite the controversy of subjects and language, I’ve found ways to give students credit for those readings in my courses; likewise, in teaching years of high school creative writing, I’ve made no topics—or language—off limits. (Students did have parameters in reading language aloud, however.) Without due process, I would have felt a need to place more restrictions on reading and writing, thus, smothering some students’ passions and curiosities that I’m confident played a big role in the completion of many high-quality assignments. Without due process, I may have refused to answer innocent yet sensitive questions that students asked during the reading of Romeo and Juliet, such as “What’s a maidenhead?” or students’ defiant questions, such as “What’s wrong with saying ‘That sucks'"? Instead, I provided straightforward, whole-class explanations.  And on a more personal level, despite the law that requires teachers to report issues of abuse and sexual harassment, without due process, I may not have mustered the courage to make some of those reports considering whose parents I accused. Especially, I might not have had the courage to walk into my principal’s office to report inappropriate behavior I witnessed between a student and one of my colleagues. Even when I knew I would be ostracized by some of my peers for making such a report, at least I knew, with due process, my job wouldn’t be threatened for doing what was right.

Without due process, I might have been more severely penalized—or even fired—for making a few mistakes in my four decades in dealing with students, administrators, and parents. I knew I was wrong to call in sick from Colorado when I took a couple days off to go skiing. I knew I was breaking fire code when I stayed in my classroom to finish preparing for the next class period when everyone else was outside for the fire drill. I knew I was breaking school rules when I sneaked a student out of in-school suspension to participate in an activity that he couldn’t make up if he missed my class. I knew I could have been more professional by not hanging up on a parent who was cursing at me on the phone. I knew I was wrong when I lost my cool with my principal and slammed his door as I left his office. Yes, I’ve made some mistakes over the years—and I was even written up once and rightfully so. On the other hand, one time when an administrator wrote in my evaluation something that he couldn’t back up when I asked him to do so, I boldly submitted a written rebuttal to the report. Without due process, any principal who wanted to get rid of me could have jumped on any single one of those actions and told me “don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

My most memorable experience that would have likely turned out differently had I not had due process was the year I was president of our local teachers’ association—a year when our district negotiations hit rock bottom with a new superintendent and board who were not teacher-friendly at all. When we ended up at the fact-finding stage, after stacking our contracts district-wide, I was called to testify—with an oath to tell the truth—on an incident I had witnessed in which a school board member and the superintendent lied. I can’t explain how disturbed I was to have to tell the truth on that public witness stand in a room filled with district administrators and respected community members. But I did tell the truth, shaking and holding back tears. Without due process, however, I don’t know how I would have found the courage to do so.

These are just a few of the situations that I can recall from my teaching journey with due process. At the same time, I’m confident other teachers have experienced worse. Perhaps, if you don’t know me and must base your judgment of the quality of my teaching solely on what I’ve described here, you might think I am a terrible teacher. I’ll simply respond, "I am not." You can find me on the Internet.

My father used to say, “Be careful what you wish for because you might get it.” In the past few years, a majority of Kansas voters have “wished for” a more conservative group of politicians filling the state legislature and the governorship. As a result of that wish being granted, what those voters got over the weekend is the stripping of due process from every teacher in this state—a situation that is likely to result in teachers who are less courageous when necessary and, instead, more unlikely to be advocates for their profession, their colleagues, and their students. Without due process, the risk to act as needed may be too costly for many teachers, with their new silence leading to the condoning of unfair and unjust situations in schools. In the words of Thomas Jefferson, “All tyranny needs to gain a foothold is for people of good conscience to remain silent.” My hope is that, through your loud voices and your votes in November, you have different wishes and bring back due process so we can continue to attract high-quality teachers to Kansas classrooms and maintain the solid reputation of our educational system, which we have had for so many years. Let’s not allow the new school year beginning in the fall of 2014 change all that we can be proud of.