It was the NEA-RA of 2005, meeting in Los Angeles. The California Teachers Association had a bee in its bonnet about the state governor, Arnold Schwartzenegger. It decided to take maximum advantage of the situation and lead a march on his Los Angeles office.
So they marched across town. The line was long, and I was in it as a member of the NEA Executive Committee. I had been assigned to accompany the CTA for moral support. I would have another task down the road.
While the CTA leadership went inside, the faithful gathered. The building had a number of wide pillars to it, and the group was gathered in that general area. There were police there. I'm sure the CTA had told them they were coming. We're educators, which means that we're interested, most of the time, in doing things orderly.
But there was no guarantee of that. CTA members were very, very unhappy. They believed that the governor had said a number of things that were disrespectful. Educators will tolerate a lot of things--it comes with the territory--but being disrespected is a place they draw the line.
But CTA members, more than a thousand of them, weren't the only ones there. That was the idea: To pick up support from members of other states. So I have no idea how many NEA members were there, but it was well over a thousand.
While they waited, someone had to give them instructions as to what constituted appropriate borders of activity. Like anyone else who had been agitated, people will take advantage of whatever they're given, and will at times test the limits.
It was up to me to instruct them. As the member of the Executive Committee with the least experience (by a month, but an important distinction until it wasn't), I was low person on the totem pole of respect. I had no idea whether anyone would listen to me. But I took it upon myself to bring the group together.
I didn't even know I had the authority, or even the respect, but the moment spoke to me: Someone had to issue instructions. Otherwise nobody would know what to do, never a comfortable situation. It's how things get out of control. Nobody else could take the reins. I was the only member of the Executive Committee there. It was left to me.
Failure to do so would result in a formless mass who might cause trouble they didn't even know they wanted. The police might not be patient. Arrests might start. We'd get a blot on our collective reputation that would play well in conservative circles.
We were already being investigated, in a classic example of overreach, by the George W. Bush-led IRS, because they were quite convinced we had taken members' money and illegally spent it on political activities, choosing to believe right-wing nonsense due to its sheer repetition. We never did that and still don't. We raise that money separately.
After months of opening up our books to them and literally opening our offices--the IRS folks eventually became apologetic--they came up with a few dozen minor issues, some of which we adjusted, some of which we chose not to, knowing they wouldn't go to the trouble of coming after us in court. But something like this, if allowed to get out of control, would cause a buzz, so we had to be careful.
Or, to be more precise, I had to be careful. I had to speak loudly but project calm at the same time, which is a trick if you've never tried it. So I paused for a second and decided what to say. The message had to be brief, as precise as possible, and something of a warning because that's what the moment required.
I said, at the absolute top of my voice (which can be very loud, and paraphrasing here) because the members were spread out quite far: Thanks for being here. You've very important to the CTA and NEA. We love that you're here.
You should think of the inside parts of these pillars as a line. The police has assured us that, if you stay behind that line, there will be no trouble. Stay there and you'll be just fine. Just hang tight until the CTA leadership comes out of the governor's office. Thanks again.
I tried to smile. There was no trouble. Nobody lurched past the pillars. I had no idea if people would respect my position in giving the instructions--it was the first time in two years I'd been in that spot, so deep inside, you wonder--but it held. Eventually, the CTA leadership came out--disappointed, in fact, because they'd been told that Schwartzenegger would be there, and he wasn't. They were greeted by a friendly staffer who'd received their message. It was time to go back to the RA.
I had done my job. Trouble was avoided. And that's how you do it: When you have to deliver a message not everybody will like, you step up and do so.
Nobody ever said a thing to me afterwards. The NEA president didn't. No state affiliate president who was there did, no NEA Board member who was there did. Nobody from Wisconsin did. The only person who acknowledged it was the CTA president, Barbara Kerr, who called me a 'trouper.'
But that's what leadership requires: You step up and do what has to be done not because you seek credit or praise, but because that's what people need. Did I resent that? Of course not. And it's fifteen years later. I've brought it up only for a reason.
Leadership is, at times, thankless, and when you fail, all hell sometimes breaks loose. But that's what you take on. It can feel bottomless and it sometimes is. Nothing changes about that except for those who don't understand that. If they don't, they fail. And an important part of that is telling people things they don't want to hear. You have to say it in a way that's understood--and followed, because it's for the good of the group. They aren't just words. They are instructions. They are ways to act. They are attitudes to take.
So it has happened with 45. If a leader is all about himself, he seeks to make himself feel good first. He has no empathy and doesn't think he needs it. So he told Bob Woodward that he played down the oncoming pandemic in the U.S. because he didn't want to cause a panic. He deliberately misled the public about how his administration was handling it, knowing the damage it could do. It's all on tape.
It's not like leaders haven't ever been faced with the same situation: Announce bad news but try to avoid panic. Lots and lots of them have pulled that off, whether it's to announce oncoming storms or invasions of another sort. It's challenging, yes, but if you step up properly, your popularity goes up, not down. You say, and rightfully so, that the situation calls for a certain behavior, and there's not much anybody can do about it. If you don't know what to say and you have help, you ask for it. No need to do it alone if you don't have to.
45 had that chance in February. He took the easy way out. Effective leadership never does that. Effective leadership sees the situation and steps up to take the responsibility. That, after all, is why people get elected.
He knew the dangers, and he told Bob Woodward he knew them. But the answers he did have were all about him and nobody else. Instead of stepping up and facing the pandemic, he tried to hide and ride it out. This is the wrong leader of a great power. Because of it, that great power has failed in so many ways.
I certainly wasn't perfect at what I did as a member of the Executive Committee; no one ever is. But I was quietly proud of myself for the way I handled the situation. There was no textbook for it. It had to be done by feel. But when the moment arrived, I didn't hide and try to avoid it; I didn't mill around and wait for the moment to end. I faced it. People appreciated that. Once given decent direction, most people comply.
Did I save the day? Who knows for sure? What I know is that I didn't ruin it for the CTA. Sometimes that's enough.
45 has ruined us for months that have passed and months to come. It wasn't necessary. He could have delivered the bad news but didn't know how. And he was too small, not big, of a person to ask for help. We now project not respect, but pity. How terrible.
Just another reason why he must go. I hope the country sees it that way.
Be well, Be careful. Wear a mask. With some luck, I'll see you down the road.
Mister Mark
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