It's
natural for me to think of my dad on Memorial Day. He was a proud veteran of World
War II, a tail gunner in the Army Air Corps, serving in the Pacific theatre for
the duration of the war.  He enlisted
early in 1942, at age 20, inspiring his younger brother, my Uncle Don, to lie
about his age so he could get into combat, too. My dad made it home but Don did
not--he was killed in action, in the first Marine landing on Iwo Jima, February
1945. He was nineteen years old.

I
don't think my dad ever got over the terrible loss of his brother; the war was
a powerful influence on his character and thinking. Most of the life lessons I
learned from my dad sprang from perceptions born of his wartime experience:
Have confidence--you're as good as anyone else. We live in the best country in
the world. Tattoos are OK only if they're memorial crosses. Freedom is worth
any cost. Buy American. And--the Palmer House (where he and his unit did their
radio training) is the best hotel in Chicago.

When
my dad came home, in 1945, he was diagnosed with "battle fatigue."  The discharging physician recommended a job
that involved physical labor, independent work without constant supervision,
and friendly colleagues. My dad got a job delivering bread. He became a Teamster,
and was a loyal union member until he died, in 1980, of brain cancer. Another
lesson from my father:  The union keeps
us strong, and watches out for the little guy. When I joined the teachers'
union, in 1975, nobody was more pleased than my dad.

According
to my father, there are people with money and control, and there are people
whose assets are loyalty and community. He did not go into battle, or survive
having his plane shot down, for the benefit of the rich and powerful. He fought
for the rights of ordinary Joes to make a good living for their families, to
live in a country where their contributions were honored. The union was there
to protect justice for the working man.

I
thought about my dad when I read "Is Seniority Best Practice?" in the
Stories from School blog. The
blogger, Kim, shares her dismay over losing so many fine new teachers with
budget cuts in WA, and asks "...with all of the pressure being put on
teachers to meet professional standards through reflection and best practices,
shouldn’t the teachers who are doing that have some advantage?"

I know
what my dad would have said:  Seniority
protects loyal workers, when their bosses can replace them with someone
cheaper. And in a brutal economy, it's often difficult to determine whether
employers are valuing quality practice or merely seeking the lowest price.

Still--in
a profession critical to building human capacity, shouldn't exemplary practice
be rewarded above all else? In teaching, there must be a balance between
excellence and mere longevity. We owe that to our children, as much as we owe
fair employment practices to workers.

John Adams  said: I
was a warrior so my son could be a farmer--so his son could be a poet.  I would hate to think that my dad got up
every morning at 4:00 a.m., lugging heavy bread racks when he was 58 years old,
so that I could turn my back on fairness. But don't the blessings of liberty
include the right to an affordable, high-quality education for everyone--the
21st century ticket to opportunity? Isn't that also a right worthy of
sacrifice?

My father was also right
about the Palmer House: it's magnificent.