Occupy Wall Street

$9000. Just for me.

That’s what I thought, in 1986, when I was told what I would be making as a graduate assistant at Iowa State University. It is true. That is a pittance. It was even a pittance back then, but you have to understand where I was coming from. My family of 5 netted $12,000 a year most of the time.

I grew up poor. I am the person who, if I had boot straps, would have pulled myself up by them. In 1993, as a high school teacher, I was about to break $20,000 a year salary, but then I went back to grad school to get my PhD. That was pretty low, especially for a person with an MA, but we lived in The Middle of Nowhere (TM), and Bryon made a little over 20K, so we did okay. We were teachers, though, so we didn’t expect to be anything but lower middle class, tops. And our culture taught us that was okay. Ah yes, back in the days when we lived in the shadow of Albert the Bull, and we were lucky nothing was wrong with us health-wise, because Audubon’s insurance was kind of crappy.

Now, the high school teacher income was a little different than my grad school income. I had done everything society told me to. I went to college, earned my degrees, and still landed a low paying job. Well, you say, you should have gone into computers. Fair enough. Call me a sap, but I expect working with young people is a little more important than manipulating numbers for business. Yet, your point is salient. I have to choose cash, or a cavalier attitude.

And then, back in grad school, I sunk back into the lower income echelons. However, I was married, and while I made about $9K, the husband landed a job at a rich school district. So we were about the same as far as income. We lived in a MUCH more expensive part of the state, but we had housemates at this part of our life, and that helped. We were still sturdily lower middle class, and we would see what the future would offer us.

Flash forward to now. I am a professor at a community college. I administrate most of the time, but I still teach two classes. My income is approaching $75,000 a year. How the hell did that happen? Am I, or am I not an English teacher? What gives? I have excellent health insurance, great retirement, and even academic support for professional development. My debt ratio is the lowest it’s been in years. Three more payments and my PhD will be paid for.

Good for me. I am a success story. I am the dream of poor children everywhere. By applying elbow grease, by having help at the right time, by working my ass off in school, I am an upper middle class person. Hold me back.

***

And yet, and yet. I should be part of the 53 percent. Their story echoes my story. I was poor. I worked my ass off. You can do it too.

Um, well, let’s talk a little more. Damn my educated hide, but that’s a rather naive view of the universe.

I have two brothers who come from the same place as me. I will grant you, neither brother has the IQ I have, which enabled me to get scholarships and support from my teachers. Neither brother has the drive I have, which enabled me to get through college during a summer semester when I survived primarily on ramen and gifted sweet corn. Both brothers carry the scars of an entirely horrible childhood, but have no idea of the impact that it has on their lives.

I have two brothers. They are both convicted of minor crime. In all fairness, I will focus on the more sane of the two, my younger brother. Once, he had a job for longer than a year, with insurance. He gave it away because he didn’t like it. He has failed college twice. He has worked a variety of short-term gigs. Right now, he is 44 years old. He is a butcher at Fareway in a small town. He is considering getting a second job. He has no retirement, no medical insurance, nothing.

I suppose a 53 percenter would say that this is his own fault, that he should have been master of his destiny. After all, his sister did it, right? Others might say that he is an example of Social Darwinism, that he is a loser, and deserves what he gets.

He did get a high school diploma. I know people who have successful lives with a high school diploma. What happened here? Are his personal problems insurmountable? Or perhaps, because he was raised in poverty, and internalized those coping skills, perhaps he doesn’t know how to get a job and hold one.

Am I my brother’s keeper? Quite literally, am I?

***

Here’s my answer to that, and this should pretty much tell you what I think of the Occupy Wall Street movement. Having come from a place less fortunate, I do believe that it is my duty to help take care of those who need it. I wouldn’t have made it if someone hadn’t believed in me enough to lend me money even though statistically my background says I wasn’t a good bet.

And I wouldn’t be where I’m at if my insurance didn’t enable me to get medicine for my, albeit minor, but recurring medical condition of acid reflux disease.

And if I were unemployed, I would take quite a hit. Would I fall out of the middle class? No. Now, if my husband and I both lost our jobs, yes, we would be in trouble. Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to fall into a safety net? Why wouldn’t I want to make it possible for others to do the same?

The predominant thinking seems to be that the 99 percenters are whiners who don’t have, and think they should get without hard work. I think what they perceive is an unfair distribution of wealth. Just because you like marbles doesn’t mean that you should get all the marbles.

Or, maybe Lemony Snicket says this better than me. Lemony Snicket will put it in perspective for you.

Get a clue. It’s not just about hard work and luck. It’s about basic human rights and dignity. Some day you may need help. Especially people from the 53 percent who are paying too many taxes, thanks to the greed of the wealthy, who are supported by our government. Shouldn’t you set a good example by helping others right now?

Because Jesus wants you to. And Buddha, Mohammed. Heck, I want you to, if you’re secular.

Or as someone else said in an article I can’t track down: My dream is bigger than your dream. If I can help someone who doesn’t have as much as I do, shouldn’t I?

Catherine