“I’m Not Wanting to be a Martyr”: Learning from Latina Educator Activists in Chicago Public Schools During COVID-19

Abstract

I center the experiences of four Latina educators working in Chicago Public Schools (CPS) to learn about their activism amidst the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic. Through a storying methodological approach (San Pedro, Res Teach Engl 50(2):132–153, 2015; San Pedro & Kinloch, Am Educ Res J 54(15):373S–394S, 2017), this project is guided by the following research question: How were Latina educator activists organizing around justice-based issues during the pandemic? The findings of this study highlight how the lack of support and respect from CPS’s top-down management approach shaped the activism participants engaged in ? particularly in their use of mutual aid to advocate for the communities they serve. Moreover, as active members of the Chicago Teachers Union, participants sustained their activism through the support they received from their union and the solidarity and joy forged with their students and each other. This study builds upon existing knowledge of Latina teacher activists by highlighting the critical role their identities, experiences, and expertise play in understanding how policy impacts them and how they shape policy through their activism.

To say much has changed in the lives of educators would be an understatement, given all the pain, sorrow, rage, and uncertainty the COVID-19 pandemic has brought to millions of people in the U.S. and around the globe. Since taking hold in the U.S. in March 2020, COVID-19 has infected and killed hundreds of thousands of people. Public schools across the country closed their doors to in-person instruction. Educators were tasked with adjusting their teaching to online platforms essentially overnight. Then, with the introduction of vaccines, more knowledge of COVID-19, and increased desires to reopen schools, teachers were asked to return to their classrooms to guide their students’ learning. The return to in-person teaching was contentious as teachers went from “pandemic heroes” to “obstructionists” when they voiced concerns over re-opening plans (Baker et al., 2022).

The demands to re-open schools came largely from parents, policymakers, and pundits, which ushered in concerns from educators across the country. Chicago was no different. The Chicago Teachers Union (CTU), one of the most powerful labor unions in the country, voiced deep opposition to then Mayor Lori Lightfoot and former Chicago Public Schools (CPS) CEO Janice Jackson’s reopening proposals, bringing educators to the brink of going on strike. Educators expressed safety-based concerns that they considered unaddressed by Lightfoot and CPS officials. With the rise of the Omicron variant of COVID-19, teachers in Chicago voted to move learning online in January 2022 in order for CPS to provide additional safety measures, such as high-quality masks and testing (Karp, 2022). This article brings attention to some of the issues and organizing that set the backdrop to the negotiations between CPS and CTU that spanned the winter months in late 2020 and early 2021.

Through a storying methodological approach (San Pedro, 2015; San Pedro & Kinloch, 2017), I center the experiences of four Latina educator-activists about their activism amidst the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic, when virtual instruction first took place. The project is informed by the following research question: How were Latina educator activists organizing around justice-based issues during the pandemic? My analysis highlights how teachers’ activism is shaped in part because of the perceived lack of support and respect from CPS’s top-down management approach. Moreover, I examine how teacher participants coped with the pandemic and found solidarity and joy with their colleagues and students. I center teachers as the unit of analysis, more specifically Latina teachers, because their expertise is central to forging educational change and need to be understood as policy actors (Datnow, 2020; Ellison et al., 2018; Gist, 2018). Moreover, the focus on Latina teacher activists builds upon existing literature on Latinx teachers and teachers of color more broadly with respect their social justice commitments and activism in the context of urban schools and communities.

Why Chicago Matters

As the fourth largest school district in the country, coupled with one of the most active and social justice-oriented teacher unions in the country, Chicago often receives a lot of attention. Historically, CPS is a school district that has given rise to many neoliberal reform efforts (Lipman, 2011; Stovall, 2013). Such efforts, dating back to the 1980s, have been driven by market-based decisions (e.g., financial divestment, school closures) (Todd-Breland, 2018). As Anyon (1997) argues, these efforts are “informed by models for reforming complex business organizations in pursuit of higher productivity” (p. 11). The turn to market-based reforms speaks to investments in high-stakes accountability measures (e.g., testing, teacher evaluations) and choice (e.g., charter schools) that intensified from the publication of the Nation at Risk Report (Labaree, 2010).

In many respects, how CPS goes, so too do other school districts across the U.S. As Stovall (2018) argues, Chicago is “[…] operating as an epicenter of corporate school reform (p. 44). For example, Gutierrez and Waitoller (2017) note that the decision to place CPS under mayoral control led changes during the 1990s that set the stage for the No Child Left Behind Act of 2001. Further, Renaissance 2010, a plan launched by then CEO of CPS and former Secretary of Education, Arne Duncan, sought to address continued concerns around student enrollment and academic performance by giving parents choices over curriculum and where they could send their children (Shedd, 2015). These changes have disproportionately impacted low-income neighborhoods and communities of color across the city (Aviles & Heybach, 2017; Ewing, 2018; Fine & Fabricant, 2012; Lipman, 2011; Saltman, 2007; Stovall, 2013, 2016). In writing about the impact of and resistance to then Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel’s 2013 decision to close schools across the city, Ewing (2018) analyzes the disproportionate impact on the Black community in Bronzeville. As she argues, Emanuel’s decision reflected the mayor’s, and by extension, the school district’s, alignment with corporate interests. These interests reflect what Ewing (2018) calls “dueling realities,” reflecting CPS’s direct contrast to the needs and desires of community members.

Moreover, these policy outcomes have worked to weaken the ability of community members to have a meaningful say in the decisions that are made. The point here is not to discredit movements of the past and present that have strived for greater decision-making power in Chicago. In fact, many of the changes that stem the tide of market-driven reforms have come from coalition-based efforts to bring a more democratic and just vision of CPS. For instance, in 2024, the city of Chicago will begin the process of re-establishing an elected school board (Smylie & Belsha, 2021). This decision would not be possible without years of organizing between teachers and community partners from across the city.

The CTU has been steadfast in its critiques of reform efforts while also organizing on a wide array of issues that helped transform the union from a collective-bargaining organization to a social justice one as well (Ashby & Bruno, 2016; Todd-Breland, 2018; Uetricht, 2014). As White (cc) notes, the CTU “[…] marshals broad coalitions of support to tackle wide-ranging issues that affect students and their families, and it often fuses civil rights and labor rights in order to carry out new forms of unionism known as social movement unionism or community-based unionism” (p. 299–300). CTU’s current commitments come from a long legacy of community activism in Chicago, particularly from its Black residents (Todd-Breland, 2018). This legacy informed the social justice commitments that the CTU now advocates for and was a driving force behind former union president Karen Lewis’ emergence as its leader (Brewer et al., 2018).

The Current State of Latina Teachers

Education scholars have begun to examine COVID-19’s impact on PreK-12 schools (Buttimer et al., 2022, Grossman et al., 2021; Kitzmiller & Rodriguez, 2021; Pressley, 2021; Pressley et al., 2021; Souto-Manning & Melvin, 2021). In their research on early childhood teachers of color in New York City, Souto-Manning and Melvin (2021) found that these educators expressed an increased “pileup of environmental, occupational, and racial stressors […]” (p. 44). As scholars begin to learn and work to provide nuanced analyses of how the pandemic has impacted educators, it is important to not forget about longstanding issues Latina teachers face. According to data from the 2017-18 National Teacher and Principal Survey, 79.3 percent of teachers working in public schools are white. While marking a decline from 82 percent, white women still dominate the profession. While this survey also indicated an increase in the total number of Latinx educators, they only constitute 9.3 percent of public school teachers in the U.S. (Taie & Goldring, 2020). Within CPS, 22.4% of its teachers are Latinx (CPS, 2022). This upward trajectory is not keeping pace with the increasing student enrollment figures that highlight increased ethnic and racial diversity in schools across the country. As schools become increasingly more diverse it is important to not lose sight of the struggles to recruit and retain Latinx teachers (Irizarry & Donaldson, 2012). Particularly since Latina teachers are entering the profession at higher rates than other teachers of color (Flores, 2017; Fránquiz & Salinas, 2022). Irizarry and Donaldson (2012) argue for the need to center important questions related to race and racism. They write, “colorblind narratives regarding teacher recruitment, preparation, and retention promulgated through the research fail to adequately speak to the experiences of Latina/o teachers, thus compromising efforts to diversify the profession” (p. 157). Investments in colorevasiveness reflect deficit mindsets that ignore the cultural and linguistic assets Latina teachers bring to their practice. It is important to understand the structural constraints that shape and inform everyday life in schools for Latina educators. As Kohli (2021) argues, “[…] simply diversifying the teaching force will not alter racism or the racial climates of schools” (p. 58).

Latina educators, along with other teachers of color, often work in racially hostile school environments, which is often felt more deeply by educators with social justice commitments (Amos, 2016a, b; Carter Andrews et al., 2019; Colomer, 2019; Flores, 2011; Kohli, 2018, 2021; Pizarro & Kohli, 2020; Urrieta, 2010). In their work with teachers of color, Pizarro and Kohli (2018) examine the toll of racial battle fatigue. In their scholarship they examine how the entrenched nature of racism facilitates how teachers of color are denigrated and dismissed by colleagues and school administrators. These factors are essential to recognize as they help explain why some Latina teachers are pushed out of the profession. As Burciaga and Kohli (2018) argue, “[…] limited attention has been paid to the holistic practices of teachers of color who confront structural oppression and work to transform educational opportunities” (p. 7).

Understanding Latina Teachers’ Social Justice Commitments and Activism

While having teachers who share identities with their students is valuable, it is important not to assume that representation alone translates into more inclusive outcomes (Achinstein & Ogawa, 2011; Pham, 2018; Philip et al., 2017; Villegas & Irvine, 2010). As Pham (2018) writes, “Teachers of Color may inadvertently (re)produce dominant practices that contradict their social justice goals and hinder the learning of Students of Color” (p. 54). Despite these understandable concerns, scholarship does point to myriad assets Latina teachers employ in their practices (Burstein & Montaño, 2011; Burciaga & Kohli, 2018; Espinoza et al., 2021; Flores, 2017; Fránquiz & Salinas, 2022). For instance, Flores (2017) underscores Latina educators’ important role as “cultural guardians.” Based on her observations and interviews with Latina teachers, Flores argues that these teachers will “[…] deploy a range of sanctioned and unsanctioned strategies in order to protect and help children they see as sharing their cultural roots” (p. 65). Building on this important scholarship, Fránquiz & Salinas (2022) highlight how educators go beyond being cultural guardians by also working to be transformative equity leaders. In their study of bilingual Latina teachers, Fránquiz & Salinas (2022) argue that Latina teachers also play an important role in challenging injustice by advocating for their students and families.

While research centering the experiences of Latina educators is growing, more remains to be known about their experiences and sociopolitical commitments and activism (Caldas, 2021; Colomer, 2014; Espinoza & Degollado, 2023; Flores, 2011, 2017; Ochoa, 2007; Pham, 2022; Reyes et al., 2023). As noted earlier, Latina teachers often work in challenging work environments, which speaks to the importance of cultivating and maintaining communities of support. Teachers of color often find themselves in isolation. Broader scholarship on teachers of color, highlights how having community not only strengthens their practice but provides outlets to strategize and organize on issues important to them in and out of the classroom (Burstein & Montaño, 2011; Espinoza, 2019; Mawhinney et al., 2021; Navarro, 2018; Pour-Khorshid, 2018). For example, Navarro (2018) highlights how teachers of color in Los Angeles developed a teacher inquiry group in order to work toward, “[…] sustaining and enhancing their ability to teach for social justice in urban secondary schools” (p. 342). Teachers in this study felt the need to create their own professional development that aligned with their justice-based commitments. While there is growing attention toward understanding the activism of Latina educators, and teachers of color more broadly, there is a need to also focus on the dynamics that that come with the organizing and activism that takes place within teacher unions (Burstein & Montaño, 2011; Catone, 2017; Espinoza, 2019; Pham & Philip, 2021). While teacher activists have and will continue to organize on their own, for many teachers their union is their “primary site of activism” (Burstein & Montano, 2011 p. 45). As Espinoza (2019) notes, most research on teacher unions focuses on issues regarding collective bargaining. In her research with Chicana teachers in Texas, she examines the critical role their teacher union played in providing a space for them to learn about their social justice commitments and opportunities to organize with like-minded colleagues. I build upon this literature by focusing on Latina social justice educators, specifically on their activism during the COVID-19 pandemic.

Storying: A Theoretical and Methodological Approach

As noted earlier, teachers of color, including Latinas, often work in hostile schooling environments invested in denying and downplaying the significance of their identities, experiences, and training. Accordingly, how scholars learn and write about Latina educators takes on added importance. Hence, I am guided by the principles of humanizing research (Paris & Winn, 2014). More specifically, I build upon San Pedro and Kinloch’s (2017) focus on the everyday: “Projects in Humanization center the daily experiences […] we have with people in ways that, on the one hand, emphasize our shared desires for racial, linguistic, educational, political, and social justice in schools and communities and, on the other hand, emphasize those same desires in our professional and personal lives” (p. 374S). Policymakers and researchers stand to learn a great deal when viewing teachers from an asset-based perspective.

A fundamental component of this research project is working to weave theory and method together to center and learn from people’s stories. I work toward this through storying (Kinloch & San Pedro, 2014; Kinloch et al., 2020; San Pedro, 2013, 2015; San Pedro & Kinloch, 2017). Storying, as San Pedro (2015) writes, “is the dialogic sharing and reflecting of lived realities through the construction of a shared story and understanding with another person or persons in order to create and sustain humanizing relationships built upon trust and respect for one another” (p. 137). This study is indebted to scholarship in indigenous research methodologies (Brayboy, 2005; Kovach, 2009). Storying’s relationship to indigenous research methodologies and humanizing research speaks to the power of listening and rejecting extractive approaches to qualitative research (Patel, 2015; San Pedro & Kinloch, 2017; Smith, 2012). This shift marks an investment in questions around “answerability.” Patel (2014) writes, “Answerability means that we have responsibilities as speakers, listeners, and those responsibilities include stewardship of ideas and learning, not ownership (p. 372). Storying requires researchers to be present and vulnerable and to practice critical listening with those they seek to learn from (Kinloch & San Pedro, 2014). Through these intentional practices, participants and researchers engage in a dialogic process that San Pedro (2013) calls a “dialogical spiral.” In so doing, a humanizing research approach counters traditional interview approaches that “extract” information from participants.

Moreover, conversations between researchers and participants never occur in a vacuum: “Our stories are never isolated from the world and the world is never isolated from us” (San Pedro, 2015, p. 135). Storytelling is an important medium by which to highlight the knowledge and experiences of Latina teachers, positioning them as experts. As Kinloch et al. (2020) write, storytelling is “an active resistance to dominant discourses” (p. 384) that considers how Latina teachers’ cultural and linguistic identities shape their teaching practices and activism amid a prevailing culture that is increasingly anti-teacher.

Participant Snapshot

This study centers on the experiences and perspectives of four Latina educators: Isabel, Karina, Alejandra, and Mirabel. At the time of the study, each was a Chicago Public School educator and active member of the Chicago Teachers Union and their Latinx Caucus. Each educator works in different neighborhoods across Chicago and has worked in CPS for multiple years. Isabel, Alejandra, and Mirabel are elementary school teachers, while Karina works in a high school. Each participant plays different leadership roles within the CTU and the Latinx Teachers Caucus.

Given the focus of the study, participants were recruited through purposeful and snowball sampling (Bogdan & Biklen, 2007). Of the four educators, I have an existing friendship with Alejandra. Alejandra helped recruit Isabel, Karina, and Mirabel. Given the ever-changing and hectic nature of teaching amid a pandemic and living lives during the racial uprisings occurring in Chicago and across the country, Alejandra played a pivotal role in relaying information and coordinating logistics. While participants were afforded the opportunity to select their pseudonyms, I ended up selecting ones for them.

Data Collection

Because of the pandemic, a focus group interview was conducted virtually using Zoom during the Winter of 2020. The focus group entailed a series of semi-structured questions over a two-hour period, emphasizing their teaching practices and organizing during the pandemic. For example, on the teaching front, I asked about the support they had received in transitioning their teaching online and about their successes and struggles with that adjustment. Concerning organizing, I asked these educators to speak about their efforts during the pandemic, whether virtual, through social media, or in person. With their permission, I audio-recorded the focus group interview. Then, I transcribed the interview by hand and shared a copy of the transcript with each educator for their records and as an opportunity for them to revise anything they shared. I also crafted an analytic memo after the focus group to help me make sense of how things went, which also helped set the stage for the analysis by leading me to themes that I saw as important.

Data Analysis

The coding and data analysis process was shaped by an interpretive approach (Dyson & Genishi, 2005; Erickson, 1986). This approach acknowledges that researchers are not blank slates and that their identities and experiences shape how we code and make sense of the data. The themes and findings did not emerge on their own; rather, they were developed based on my understanding of what participants shared, filtered through my experiences and identities.

The coding of the data entailed three rounds of inductive line-by-line thematic coding by hand (Saldaña, 2021). With each round of coding, I funneled down to more concrete themes. Round one consisted of open coding, including over 30 codes that were then condensed to 13, such as student connections, parent-teacher relationships, solidarity, and organizing strategies, and then organized into categories (teaching and activism). The third round was guided by seven codes: adjusting to technology, communities of support, student connections, parent relationships, critiques of CPS, organizing, and joy. After each round, I wrote an analytic memo to help me process the coding, think about the next steps, make sense of participant perspectives, and combine or create thematic codes. Further, the memo process allowed me to think critically about storying–how I made sense of the perspectives shared with me and one another during the focus group.

Researcher Positionality

I grew up in a lower-middle-class suburban community outside of Chicago, and I was well aware of the discourses that rely upon simplistic, fear-based arguments undergirded by racism. My relationship with Chicago is different from how it is often portrayed. For me, Chicago was a cultural and linguistic safe haven. Neighborhoods such as Avondale, Little Village, Logan Square, and Pilsen were ones frequented by my family to eat, shop, and visit family. Visiting family across other neighborhoods in Chicago’s South and Northside neighborhoods provided me with a formative education that supplemented the pride my parents instilled in me at home. Yet, I also want to be clear that I am not claiming to know Chicago. Despite seemingly weekly treks into the city, I was ultimately an outsider. While I do not subscribe to essentializing and sensationalizing portraits that paint Chicago as a crime-ridden and corrupt city, I want to acknowledge the systemic injustices that continue to shape the vibrancy and resistance of its residents, especially in low-income and communities of color. As Stovall (2016) notes, researchers are often trained to detach themselves from the communities they seek to learn from; in so doing, they run the risk of failing to consider how their identities and power as a researcher shapes all aspects of inquiry (Milner, 2007; Villenas, 1996).

I came to this study with some identities, like our shared Latinx identity, that facilitated my interactions with the four educators of the study. However, many things made us different, like our gender and their experiences as K-12 educators. With the exception of one participant, the lack of relationships warranted a need for me to make it known how I am to be held accountable to them. Accountability to teachers takes on added significance as they face rejuvenated efforts to de-professionalize teaching and the high-stakes nature of education policy, where teachers often face the brunt of accountability rhetoric. I center educators’ perspectives to highlight their experiences and expertise.

Findings

The analysis of this research project centers on the perspectives shared by four Latina educators, collectively highlighting how the pandemic further crystalized and informed their activism. More specifically, the analysis revolves around participant critiques of CPS, their organizing efforts, and strategies they embark on to take care of themselves. Isabel, Alejandra, Mirabel, and Karina spoke about how CPS missed numerous opportunities to work with their teaching workforce and the families they espouse to support. Moreover, participants also shared their views on the lack of support stemming from CPS’ top-down management style that, in their view, stymies social justice efforts. On the organizing front, educators spoke about their advocacy across a variety of issues. More specifically, participants spoke about their investment in mutual aid as one of their strategies, along with the importance of advocating for Latinx-specific issues. Finally, participants spoke about how they coped and sought joy during the pandemic to sustain their activist efforts.

Missed Opportunities: Considerations During and After the Height of the Pandemic

When speaking about how the pandemic impacted their teaching, Isabel, Karina, Alejandra, and Mirabel quickly demonstrated their knowledge of how the pandemic exacerbated preexisting inequalities (e.g., lack of resources, lack of school funding). The pandemic, however, also created opportunities. For example, when talking about parent relationships, educators spoke about how the pandemic led them to create stronger relationships with them. Isabel specifically mentioned the benefits of having greater access to parents:

I have never had so much access to my parents as I have now. To me, that’s a huge success. So, with the little ones twice a week, I could say, “Okay, can you go get your parents?” […] parents will come to the camera and talk to them individually or together as a group about where we’re at and here’s where we’re going. So, they’re truly my partners.

Isabel’s increased interactions with parents translated to a dynamic that she viewed as a partnership, where parents were informed of their child’s learning and viewed as stakeholders in the decision-making process.

Further, Karina spoke about the comfort she had cultivated with parents, “I feel more comfortable. Not that I never did, but just more comfortable picking up that phone and being like, ‘Hey, cómo están?’ Let’s talk about this and that […] we’ve gotten through this because parents are the powerhouse.” Through their increased conversations, these educators got to know parents and their predicaments. For instance, Karina shared:

The reason why I’m reaching out a lot is because the parents are in need of a lot. In need of so many services, in need of so much. It might not even be about academics that I’m talking to my parents about. Its social services, it’s where you can pick that box of food, it’s where you can apply for assistance.

In her commentary, Karina highlighted her desire to help parents. She recognized their areas of need and her ability to help them and listen to their needs and desires.

Through these conversations, the educators of the study highlighted the missed opportunity to support parents at the district level. Isabel, Karina, Alejandra, and Mirabel spoke about the disparities in the lives of students and their parents and how, because of the stronger relationships they had cultivated, it was important for CPS to build upon this success. As Isabel put it, “There’s no reason that districts shouldn’t capitalize that we’re fostering stronger relationships with parents.” Yet, Isabel and others expressed cynicism toward CPS’s receptiveness to this idea. Isabel shared:

If we’re capitalizing on [parent relationships] now, smart districts, which is not ours, unfortunately, smart districts will know, “Wow, we need to have more parent-teacher check-in moments.” […] Unfortunately, it will probably be the affluent suburban school districts. I don’t think it will wind up being the districts that are mostly Brown and Black children, which would actually benefit the most from that. That’s my cynicism.

Isabel and Karina, in particular, spoke about the implications for the Black and Latinx families they primarily work with. In their view, building stronger relationships with parents facilitated their teaching and enabled them to better understand parents’ concerns and struggles, which then informed their advocacy. Through these stronger partnerships, the educators of the study also argued CPS missed an opportunity to reimagine schooling. In talking about revamping school schedules at the secondary level, Karina shared:

You cannot hide the have and the have-nots in our school. CPS is so inequitable; it’s so inequitable. We had a chance to reimagine the way we did school as opposed […] first period to eight period, 50-minute schedule, let’s just pretend we’re doing school online. This is not regular learning. This was a moment to change the way we were learning. So, we missed that opportunity to change the way the students were learning on a computer. So, we missed it because CPS wanted us to do school like regular school, but this isn’t regular school.

Karina understood the realities of the pandemic and how existing teaching structures perhaps are not conducive to online learning. In her view, it was worth considering alternative ways of engaging student learning because “this isn’t regular school.” Throughout the focus group, these educators possessed clarity in the ideas they thought could help get them through the pandemic and how to come out of it with new ideas that better met the needs of their students and families. Yet, their commentary also spoke to the lack of support they received through CPS’s top-down management style.

Support

All four teachers spoke about a lack of upper administration support, particularly as they transitioned their teaching online; however, Mirabel spoke about the help she received from peers as she adapted to a new teaching environment. She shared, “I think any kind of learning or adapting or support that we’ve gotten as educators have come from our own peers discovering things on their own and helping each other out and not from the district.” Mirabel’s point underscores the importance of school building communities as a refuge and network of support. Alejandra spoke about the closer relationship she developed with her special education classroom assistants (SECAs). In the focus group, Alejandra mentioned, “when [students] are off the screen [asynchronous learning], that’s the time for my SECAs and I to collaborate, which never happens in the school building.” Being online together to support student learning allowed Alejandra to take advantage of moments she was not doing synchronous teaching. She did not have to track down her SECAs, as they were already present, thus providing an opportunity to strategize how to best support students and plan for future activities.

These educators also received support from their respective school principals. They spoke about how these individuals pushed back and offered cover from CPS’s top-down mandates by allocating resources to best support their teaching during remote learning. Mirabel highlighted how her principal ignored requests from CPS administrators to stop handing out Chromebooks to parents and students. She noted, “She was told by the district to stop, and she basically ignored it because how are we going to be teaching students remotely without them having the access?” Alejandra also spoke about how her principal allowed teachers and staff to take school equipment home to help facilitate their work. These educators pointed out key aspects underscoring that these supportive communities do not exist uniformly across CPS schools.

Moreover, as Isabel pointed out, despite these communities of support and the successes these teachers have had in adjusting their teaching to an online platform, it is important to recognize the constraints they have had to navigate. Isabel shared:

I want to point these shifts and changes are positives; all of what we teachers are doing to make online learning work isn’t because we had support from our district; it is in spite of our district. Our district gives us little to no time to learn technology, no real time to connect with parents. So, teachers in our district have to do this above and beyond what was given to us.

Isabel’s jump into the conversation made it clear that the successes she and her colleagues have had were not because of anything special CPS did for them but “in spite of” them. According to Isabel and the other teacher participants, their successes were instead attributed to their local support networks, specifically their colleagues and, in some cases, their school administrators, who recognized their needs and those of their students. Isabel’s comment also highlights a disconnect–that the school district was not in touch with the realities on the ground and needed to empower teachers who could act quickly.

Lack of Respect

For the educators of the study, the lack of support from CPS stemmed from a perceived disconnect and disrespect toward them as educators, which created a lack of trust between the two groups. Karina shared, “There’s such a high level of disrespect, disrespect for our craft. Disrespect by the mayor herself. Just total disrespect for us as professionals and caring people.” Karina’s comment not only spoke to the lack of respect she believed educators receive but tied it directly to Chicago mayor Lori Lightfoot. Karina went on to share, “I’m not wanting to be a martyr. We should be given what we deserve.” Karina’s observation speaks to a major reason why these educators are poignant in their criticisms that link CPS with the mayor’s office–that institutions are viewed as barriers to their collective efforts as educators to meet the needs of their students and families.

The top-down management style of CPS was something each participant critiqued, noting their perceived lack of involvement in developing an opening plan that ultimately was not to the liking of most teachers in the union. Mirabel shared the following insights:

I think most of us were astonished by the lack of any foresight. My question to the administrator, who was a very nice gentleman, “How many teachers helped you put this together?” He stood very quiet on his end. He’s like, “Well, there’s some people in my office.” I stopped him and said, “Wait, I know there’s people in your office that used to be teachers. There are people in every CPS office that used to be teachers at one point or another.” My union leadership was there too, and I said, “Just like our union leadership used to be teachers […] they’re no longer teachers in the building, but they count on us to inform them. Why did you not pull on any of the pre-K or special ed teachers to help inform this policy that you’re asking them to implement?

This contentious moment between CPS administrators and CTU members demonstrated that members of the union, like Mirabel, yearned for collaborative input that relies on teachers who are still in the classroom. Mirabel believed that those in the classroom, on the ground, are best positioned to offer perspectives that can inform district-wide policy. As a result of this fractured relationship, educators noted that decisions were unrealistic and disconnected from their needs and those of their students and their families. Further, CPS’ top-down decision-making process leaves out input for important constituencies the teachers of the study support, largely working-class Black and Latinx families. Karina spoke about how their lack of outreach and input is a manifestation of disrespect. For Karina and the other teachers of the study, disrespect is linked to both CPS and mayor Lightfoot. Karina argued:

CPS is resistant to [input] because they don’t want to hear from parents. How disrespectful was Lori when she didn’t give any type of parent meetings? How disrespectful was she in the beginning? She didn’t have any type of workshop for parents so they can learn technology so they could sit next to their child to help them. That, to me, is a lack of respect. She has absolutely no respect for parents, no respect for teachers, no respect for the city she serves. Except respect for whoever her power base is.

From these teachers’ perspectives, the lack of meaningful involvement in decision-making, particularly during a global pandemic, required ongoing and inclusive conversations. Given their commitments to social justice and their organizing efforts within and beyond the union, these educators recognized the importance of action and not waiting for the needs of their students and their families to be met. Karina, Alejandra, Mirabel, and Isabel also spoke about their respective efforts and those of their colleagues.

Latina Teacher Activism During the Pandemic

During the focus group interview, the teacher participants of the study spoke in some detail about their organizing during the pandemic. Two particular topics were discussed in detail: the importance of mutual aid and advocating for Latinx-specific issues.

Isabel spoke about her colleagues’ efforts when raising funds to help families in need. For her colleagues and other teachers across the city, creating relief funds was an important step in helping their students’ families get monetary support to cover their expenses. Despite the success of raising money for families, Isabel spoke about how CPS tried to undermine these efforts. Isabel shared, “Chicago Public Schools went after these relief funds and started telling teachers they needed to take the names of the school off their relief fund title.” Alejandra built upon Isabel’s commentary by sharing:

[…] When the CTU was trying to meet with CPS about how we could create a safe plan, instead of thinking of a safe plan, they were bringing up those solidarity funds – “What’s up with those? Why did you start them?” The reasons that they gave were so using the school names could result in confusion in the community, and there’s nothing to prevent the individual who raises the money from keeping the money that was soliciting in the school’s name.

Like Isabel, for Alejandra, the priority was to support students and their families in any way possible because they recognized the urgent needs of the families they served. Thinking about the potential legal ramifications was not important. The solidarity funds these teachers created or helped support were not to enrich themselves or have those in need prove their worth. The participants were not invested in charity. To them, the solidarity funds were a way to work around a system that was not responsive. Mutual aid considers the possibility of something else that works to counter oppressive structures (Spade, 2020; Tanchuk et al., 2021). As Spade (2020) argues, “Mutual aid is only one tactic in the social movement ecosystem. It operates alongside direct action, political education, and many other tactics […] it brings people into coordinated action to change things right now” (p. 42). Therefore, when CPS raised concerns, it told these educators where their priorities stood. Alejandra shared her anger toward CPS when she heard about their concerns over solidarity funds, speaking to how she felt when CPS raised questions over confidentiality and equitable distribution of money. She stated:

That one, in particular, makes me so angry that there’s no guarantee of confidentiality for families who donate or receive money, and if the information of the family is leaked, they could blame the school if one family received more money than the other it could make the school seem inequitable. That one makes me laugh. You want to talk about inequities CPS? They’re such idiots.

For Alejandra and others, these questions not only slowed the delivery of financial resources to families in need but failed to recognize educators for recognizing the landscape and responding swiftly. For CPS to raise concerns over the equitable distribution of money were laughable to Alejandra based on her view that CPS is rife with inequities and therefore has little ground to stand on. Knowing CPS’s managerial style and perceived lack of action, the teachers of the study recognized the importance of acting outside the institution if they were going to make an immediate impact. For Karina, witnessing teachers across the city recognize a need, learn, and be in community with other individuals and organizations employing mutual aid, “[…] it was just beautiful to see these calls to action. We’re not waiting for you to save us. We’re helping each other out because that’s what it looks like to be in solidarity.”

Advocating for Latinx-Specific Issues

In addition to their efforts around mutual aid with respect to solidarity funds, each participant spoke about their responsibilities to advocate for issues impacting Latinx families. Their commitment to families also spoke to a strategy of recognizing the power to organize parents. Karina spoke about the importance of organizing alongside parents. She shared, “Parents too, Alejandra said it; this is a moment we really gotta mobilize parents. They’re the ones that entrust their kids to us. They have so much voice, and they have the potential to really drive what’s happening at their local school council.” While these educators understood the need to transform city-wide policies and were active in doing so through their union participation, they also understood that change could only be done if they had local unified support. These educators believed that the least they could do was listen to the parents of the children they were entrusted to work with. If parents placed trust in them, they had to reciprocate that trust by listening and advocating for things the parents believed to be important. Alejandra shared some of the inroads they made, including that they have created a subgroup dedicated to Latinx parent engagement within their group of Latinx educators.

This approach allows them to build relationships with parents and understand their needs so they can advocate for them in meetings with district leadership. Alejandra also spoke about the importance of relaying information in Spanish to parents that needed it. She shared, “Sometimes, for example, if I speak at a press conference, I get to say it in Spanish. Those things didn’t happen before, but they need to happen because the parents that are watching are Latinx, and they may be only Spanish speaking.” Moreover, Isabel spoke about what it meant to have their faces in media coverage and the power of representation. Isabel conveyed that she and her colleagues do not want to be publicized but understand that parents need to see them to know someone is advocating for them. Isabel shared, “We’re really uncomfortable being in that space, but we’ve got to do this. Our families need to see us. They need to see this Brown educator telling them, ‘Don’t send your kids back into the buildings; it’s dangerous for our communities.’”

Fighting for Joy: Coping and Fighting During COVID-19

In talking with participants, each had different approaches to how they sought to care for themselves during the first few months of the pandemic. Their efforts to take care of themselves are important to learn from, particularly for social justice teachers, since the work of activism is hard and tiresome. Considering these issues is important because the pandemic has only magnified existing world-related stressors (Manning-Souto & Melvin, 2021). What sustained them was their teaching and relationships with students and like-minded colleagues.

The Power of Solidarity

Alejandra spoke about what engaging in self-care meant to her. She shared, “I think I’m really bad at self-care, and I don’t know if this is self-care, but I’ve been doing a lot of union stuff, but to be honest, to me, that’s self-care because I feel I’m playing an active role in the change that I want to see. I don’t know; for me, that’s self-care.” Similar to Alejandra, Karina took solace in being with her colleagues during protests. Karina shared, “During the uprisings of the summer, being able to be in the same spaces with my sisters […] and fighting out there on the streets. Those, to me, were moments of joy. Every single time we met up […] those moments brought me so much joy that I got to be around people who fight […]” Alejandra and Karina’s perspective highlight the important role that solidarity plays in fueling their joy and self-care. Both participants highlight how their activism and having the opportunity, as Karina put it, to be “around people who fight” played in fueling their drive to combat inequities in and out of school. Furthermore, these perspectives underscore the vital role of having a community of support for teacher activists. Teachers often find themselves being blamed for the failures of market-based reforms in urban schools. As a result, Stern and Brown (2016) argue that teachers turn to activism as a “therapeutic antidote” (p. 333). This perspective helps deepen how the teachers of this study endure difficult work contexts by relying on one another for support and mobilizing to counter the forces working against them.

Despite the challenges teaching online brought and the struggles their students and families underwent, these educators also took joy from being with their students. As student-centered teachers invested in sustaining these relationships, it was important to maintain any semblance of that during the months of online instruction. For instance, Mirabel and Isabel mentioned how they created time for their students to talk to one another. Mirabel noted, “I give my students time to chat with each other. I also sometimes put them in breakout rooms to chat, and I pop in and listen to them talking. It’s just great; it’s amazing.” Mirabel deemed it important to create a space for students to engage in open discussion with one another–to connect, laugh, and be themselves.

As she noted, students benefited from being afforded space to reconnect with their classmates. Isabel shared, “You can tell they’re going through a lot of difficult moments being first an adolescent at this time where you cannot be social with each other, but also all of the things that they’re dealing with in the pandemic.” Yet, as she noted, her students showed up and displayed their creativity. While for some, this type of student engagement might seem inconsequential or not necessarily unique, for Mirabel, these moments were vital for students. They were able to have a respite from some of the difficulties at home while working on learning the content she prepared for them. In working with smaller children, Isabel had fun seeing and listening to her students interact with one another online. She shared, “I realized that they didn’t have enough of that space where little kids just talk to one another at school.” She told her students, “Okay, I’m just going to let you all talk to each other, and I’m shutting off my camera and mic.” In particular, Isabel underscored how valuable this opportunity was for students: “I felt like that was more important for them than the lesson I was about to give them.”

During this portion of the conversation, Alejandra added a moment that brought her joy online with her students. She shared:

A student was grouchy one day, and he had his head down. I could tell he was in a bad mood, and that has happened to him occasionally. I never know how to really deal with it, and that day se me ocurrió, ‘Do you need a hug?’ (makes hugging gesture) and then you can see his little face, and he started to smile […] Those moments have brought me immense joy.

For Alejandra, it was important to reach out to this student and check in. After all, good teaching entails having strong relationships, cultivating the intuitive skills to foster learning environments that do not lose sight of the difficulties students bring to classrooms – whether in person or online. This moment reflected Alejandra’s willingness to be vulnerable. Alejandra was telling her student that they were not alone, that as much as they could use the hug, she too needed one.

The power the participants gained from their colleagues in the union and their students is instructive.

As discussed earlier, teachers of color, Latinas included, are pushed out of the profession because of a continued lack of support (Carter Andrews et al., 2019; Kohli, 2018). Therefore, it is important to consider the support teacher activists need to sustain themselves, particularly if they work in contexts that undermine them. The solidarity forged by the participants of this study offers insights into how teachers endure and actively work to resist through activism. The perspectives shared by teachers in this section raise important considerations of not only incorporating and providing material resources to their students and their families but also creating and expanding communities of support regarding their physical and mental health as educators.

Conclusion

Through my conversation with Alejandra, Karina, Mabel, and Isabel, each is committed to transformative outcomes in and out of school. Their commitments and actions offer a roadmap to inspire other educators and important strategies to consider when engaged in activism. As noted earlier, the CTU is a strong social justice union that continues to hold CPS accountable for its espoused goals. This article builds upon existing knowledge about the power Latina teachers, particularly for those active in their teacher union (Burstein & Montaño, 2011; Espinoza, 2019). The organizing power of the teachers of this study, much like that of their colleagues within the CTU highlights the possibilities of what teachers can do when they work in solidarity and are empowered to do so. These educators organize through their own networks, but their advocacy is even stronger because of the space their union affords them. With that said, it is important to note that the space their union affords them came after years of hard battles calling for greater racial inclusion within the union (Todd-Breland, 2018; White, 2020). Amid a climate that seeks to erode the unionization power of teachers, the four educators of this study underscore what is at stake, actively recognizing the structural and historical forces working against them and responding through their activism. As Pham (2022) writes, “[…] teacher leaders of Color discursively reconstruct and renegotiate individual and collective social positionings toward community-centered action […]” (p. 93). For Latina teachers working in contexts where they do not have or lack the support of their union, the findings of this study point to the important role that solidarity plays in sustaining justice-oriented educators. Research points to the important role teacher collectives and community organizations can play in helping Latina teachers find community, particularly in hostile environments that do not share their visions for educational justice (Carrillo, 2021; Mawhinney et al., 2021; Monreal, 2021; Navarro, 2018; Reyes et al., 2023).

Further, the work these educators are doing with mutual aid regarding the solidarity funds they have helped support or create demonstrates their creativity and a commitment to divest from systems of reform that often fail to address the immediate, material needs of their students and families. The turn to mutual aid highlights the long-existing precarity in the lives of many, but as frustrating and depressing as it may be for some, they are not waiting on institutions to respond. Their engagement with mutual aid also highlights the need for further inquiry on two fronts–on the one hand, the need to better understand the continued failures of many top-down educational reforms, and on the other, to understand mutual aid as a way to counter these efforts. While mutual aid is not the only way to combat educational injustices, teacher activism, particularly from teachers of color, will continue to be instrumental in understanding how to combat educational inequality.

In short, Isabel, Mirabel, Alejandra, and Karina have gone through a lot. However, they persist because of the collective solidarity they have cultivated amongst themselves. Their solidarity fuels their pursuit for educational justice amid a climate that is increasingly working to undermine them and the public good of public education. It is important engage teachers as leaders and policy actors as they too are professionals. Educational policymakers and researchers stand to learn a great deal from the educators of this study and countless others across this country who are often ignored, misunderstood and blamed for the shortcomings and failures of educational policies that often do not reflect the realities of everyday life in and out of schools.

Declarations

Conflict of interest

The corresponding author states that there is no conflict of interest.