If there is anything I learned as an economics major, it is that there is no such thing as a free lunch.
There is always, always, always a cost.
To everything.
The cost may be financial.
Or emotional.
Or time-related.
Or professional.
But there is a cost for everything.
First, before I go any further, I'd like to mention that even though I was royally pissed about the band director's behavior back in the summer, I never sent a shrieking email to him or the principal.
I'm glad I didn't.
I wrote my two venting emails on this blog and got it out of my system.
Ultimately, I decided that the band director's reputation as an a-hole precedes him so me sending an email wouldn't be telling anyone something they don't already know.
Not sending that email made me seem less like an irrational banshee when I went haywire about the dress code, which definitely deserved a ranting email.
Even though I'm really glad I stood up for girls and parents about the dress code, I understand there is a cost to me for being "the troublemaker."
I have not been asked to be on the committee addressing the dress code, which has bothered some people who have been asked to be on the committee.
"You need to be a part of this," is what I've been told.
But the cost is that I'm persona non grata among administrators and probably a lot of other staff.
The cost is that I'm not included.
And that's ok with me.
It might even be preferable to "the cause" if I'm not included.
Being included could just serve to piss people off.
This whole shebang isn't about me at all, even though I became, for a short time, the face and the voice of the shebang.
It is about the dress code.
If the dress code is changed to be more inclusive and less arbitrary and less restrictive, then it doesn't matter who changes it.
I don't have to be a part of it at all.
It has also crossed my mind that this event and my speaking out could cost me professionally at some point, should I ever want to work full-time in the district.
But, ultimately, I have to live with myself, and I couldn't live with myself if I didn't do what I did.
And I guess that means that I stand up for what I believe in.
And I speak out when things are wrong.
And I put kids first.
There are worse things a teacher can be.
There is always, always, always a cost.
To everything.
The cost may be financial.
Or emotional.
Or time-related.
Or professional.
But there is a cost for everything.
First, before I go any further, I'd like to mention that even though I was royally pissed about the band director's behavior back in the summer, I never sent a shrieking email to him or the principal.
I'm glad I didn't.
I wrote my two venting emails on this blog and got it out of my system.
Ultimately, I decided that the band director's reputation as an a-hole precedes him so me sending an email wouldn't be telling anyone something they don't already know.
Not sending that email made me seem less like an irrational banshee when I went haywire about the dress code, which definitely deserved a ranting email.
Even though I'm really glad I stood up for girls and parents about the dress code, I understand there is a cost to me for being "the troublemaker."
I have not been asked to be on the committee addressing the dress code, which has bothered some people who have been asked to be on the committee.
"You need to be a part of this," is what I've been told.
But the cost is that I'm persona non grata among administrators and probably a lot of other staff.
The cost is that I'm not included.
And that's ok with me.
It might even be preferable to "the cause" if I'm not included.
Being included could just serve to piss people off.
This whole shebang isn't about me at all, even though I became, for a short time, the face and the voice of the shebang.
It is about the dress code.
If the dress code is changed to be more inclusive and less arbitrary and less restrictive, then it doesn't matter who changes it.
I don't have to be a part of it at all.
It has also crossed my mind that this event and my speaking out could cost me professionally at some point, should I ever want to work full-time in the district.
But, ultimately, I have to live with myself, and I couldn't live with myself if I didn't do what I did.
And I guess that means that I stand up for what I believe in.
And I speak out when things are wrong.
And I put kids first.
There are worse things a teacher can be.
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