Last October, the janitors of Boston were on strike for the same things that adjunct faculty and adult basic education teachers are denied. I remember stopping to watch a small but vocal cluster of sign-wielding Service Employees International Union members on Boylston Street. One sign caught my eye: $39 is not enough. Witnessing this earnest plea for a living wage hit home and part of me wanted to throw down my titanic book bag, pick up a sign and join them. For I, too, would love to have a full-time job, higher wages, and a modicum of health benefits. In many ways, we are kindred spirits.

Of course, part-time ESL teachers make slightly more than the pittance Boston janitors receive, but we also have no benefits, no health insurance, no 401K plan, no vacation time, no tuition reimbursement, no promise that there will be a job next semester. In short, we are as expendable as Kleenex. Many of these men and women are immigrants from Latin America or Haiti. They could be my students at the immigrant and refugee program where I teach. Perhaps they have sat in ESL classes taught by part-time teachers who, like me, teach at three different institutions to make ends meet.

Our Numbers Are Growing
Adjunct or part-time teachers are not a minority and our numbers are swelling while the pool of full-time jobs shrinks from year to year. Figures from the Massachusetts Teachers Association (MTA) estimate that in Massachusetts alone there are between four and five thousand adjuncts (compared to only two thousand full-time faculty) teaching at the state's 15 community colleges. In Boston, there are close to 10,000 adjunct instructors working at the community colleges. Clearly, we are a force, a majority, yet a vulnerable and often exploited majority.

Without a Net
As an ESL teacher with nearly a decade of experience, I have taught at many different programs, from city- and state-funded nonprofit to private, for -profit schools and institutions. At most of these schools and programs the majority of the ESL teachers were part-time employees. Most were women, some were married and received health care through their husband's work, but most were single or divorced and paid for their health insurance from their own pockets.

At one time, I received Mass Health and free care at Boston Medical Center but I no longer qualify because, according to the state, I earn too much. I am essentially living without the net of health care that most Americans take for granted. As a Peace Corps volunteer in the former Soviet Union seven years ago, I came down with a nasty case of bronchitis one winter and had to seek medical care at one of the polyclinics. Yes, it was crowded and I had to wait a long time, but I received a first-class evaluation from a harried yet knowledgeable physician, and X-ray and homeopathic medicine free. As a teacher, I was considered an asset to society and was treated with dignity and respect. Russia, with all its problems and up-heaval,was still able to provide universal health care to its citizens, regardless of whether they were full- or part-time.

The American Dream Deferred
In one of my ESL composition courses at one of the universities where I teach, we were reading an essay in The Bedford Reader, an argument for a shorter work week in America. We went over terms like "work ethic," "yuppies," and "workaholism." One student wanted to know what epitomized the American dream and I explained the classic and somewhat cliched notion of American success: a good job, a house, a car, a dog, and 2.5 children. "That's it?" the student’s bemused expression seemed to say. For this accounting major attaining this "dream" will be no problem. As I was erasing the board after class, it dawned on me that after nearly a decade in the classroom, I have none of the ingredients in the American dream.

A Troubling Statistic
At MATSOL 2002 last October, while the janitors picketed stolidly on Boylston Street, I remember getting an unintentional laugh during keynote speaker Gary Orfield's provocative speech. There is nothing funny about the dangers of high-stakes testing, of course, but a slide illustrating the range of average salaries for high school dropouts all the way to those with doctoral degrees made me shake my head and laugh with despair. According to Orfield’s data, I earn the same salary as a high school dropout despite my master's degree and years of teaching.

Like many, someday I want to own a house, maybe have a child, and pay off my student loans that have hung around my life like an unwanted guest. I don't want to have to do what my mother had to do at the height of devastating Proposition 2½ in the late 70s: leave teaching.

What makes this question so complex and frustratingly circular is that I love teaching. It sustains me, fulfills me, challenges me and I wouldn’t want to do anything else. It is infinitely rewarding and no day is ever the same.

Yet, sometimes I stare at my gleaming diploma with its gold foil insignia and some Latin gibberish at the bottom. Is this why I borrowed $20,000 and put the stone of debt to SALLIE MAE around my neck for the next ten years? How long until the "inevitable burnout," the searing epiphany that all poor teachers like me are supposed to have, where one morning they see with brutal clarity the inanity of their pursuit and cast it aside for more profitable ventures. Or apply to business school or law school, like some of the graduates from my teaching program have already done.

I remember reading once that Martin Luther King, Jr. was in Memphis that fateful day in 1968 to show solidarity with black janitors who were not getting a fair deal. It seems sadly poignant that more than 30 years later the janitors and educators are still being shut out of the American dream.

Signs of a Shift?
At the end of October, a month after declaring a strike, the union and Mayor Thomas M. Menino emerged from Boston’s Parkman House with a contract that gave 1,000 part-time janitors health benefits. When I heard this news, I was jubilant, moved, and inspired. Perhaps this capitulation by big business to the embattled working poor signals a shift in the economic climate for part-time workers. Perhaps adjunct teachers will mobilize once and for all, as they are already doing in California, and march along Boylston Street. We will sit with Mayor Menino in the Parkman House and tell him what we do, why we are important, and he will sign a contract granting us health benefits. Stay tuned.

Linda Werbner is an adjunct ESL instructor at the International Institute, Suffolk University, and Boston University. Currently, she is involved in a grant-funded teacher research project looking at her responses to student writing. She can be reached at: lwerbner@hotmail.com