Since my arrival at Acadia, I’ve seen many faculty leave, including some very good friends. So why do so many of us stay?
        Before returning home on Friday to tell Gisele of another faculty departure, my buddy Rich and I considered this question. We were having coffee together at Just Us, something we don’t get to do often enough during the term. The CBC camera was filming Wolfville to show how barren it was without the students. The President of Acadia herself walked by and smiled awkwardly. And together we sipped our coffees and talked about what was keeping us here when both of us could go elsewhere and do other things.
        For me, the answer is that I like my job and I like the people I work with. I work in a functional and supportive department. We tend to treat each other with respect and even like each other, despite personal and ideological differences. This positive experience extends beyond my department as well. I’ve met good people from every department on campus. I also know, given my experience with the grievance office, that there are many terrific people in the admin (Unfortunately, some of them have left too.). These people administer the university and the collective agreement guided by the principles of fairness, shunning the arbitrary exercise of power that can make the workplace toxic. And, given my one brief meeting with the BOG (to demonstrate a pedagogical innovation), I know that it contains good people too.
        The fact that so many students have come to Acadia and have had overwhelmingly positive experiences during this troubling decade in the institution’s history is a testament to the quality of the people I work with. While I’m sure that many students have noticed the tensions between faculty and admin during this time (because it is difficult to miss), I know also that many of us have tried to protect them from the toxicity of institutional dysfunction that seeps into our daily lives. That protective shield is meant to be enabling. It’s meant to give students an opportunity to learn in a functional environment. It’s meant to give them the opportunity to engage in a world of ideas, uncontaminated by our local institutional problems (even if they aren’t really local or unique to this institution).
        If that protective shield is now down and our students now exposed, it is because things have gotten so bad that we have no other way of cleaning up the mess we’re in. We must act before toxicity destroys the institution and the fragile ideal it still represents: a quality education. Our commitment to that ideal and to the people who share it unites us on the line. Over these two weeks of walking with my colleagues, that shared commitment has drawn me closer to them and their families. And over the past 11 years, it has kept me and my own family walking with Acadia.

        A quotation from John Donne’s “Meditation XVII” has been haunting me as I’ve been writing this post and contemplating my own reasons for staying in light of one person’s decision to leave:

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were. Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

To me, this quotation speaks indirectly to what happens at Acadia when we lose faculty members and their families. The institution and all who work and study here are diminished by the departure. So while I think I know why so many of us stay, I’m still troubled by the fact that for some, things are so bad that they feel the need to leave. I can’t help but feel that we’ve let them down somehow. And I feel their loss.

When I came home on Friday afternoon, my last shift for week 2 of the strike over, Gisele was waiting for me. “I hear you guys are having way too much fun on the picket line,” she said. She’d gotten this bit of information from my daughter, Nicky, who had picketed with me that morning. It was Family Day. And my 22 year old just happened to be the oldest of the children joining parents on the line for the morning shift. I was proud to have her there with me, just as the other parents were proud to have their children with them.
        Unlike Nicky, most of these children are too young to really understand in any sophisticated way the struggle their parents are engaged in. But then, it doesn’t take an adult mind to figure this out either. In fact, children, just by virtue of being small and vulnerable, are probably more attuned to our particular issues than many adults. From the signs they wore–many of which they designed themselves–they showed how they conceive of their parents’ struggle. And as they understand it, this strike is about fairness.
        After this lovely morning, I had to agree with Gisele and Nicky. Despite the stress and anxiety caused by this struggle for fairness, AUFA members are having fun together on the line. While Friday gave our children the opportunity to enjoy face-painting, craft-making, chalk-drawing, and bubble-blowing — and, really, just the opportunity to be with us and play together — many of us have been enjoying a comparable experience every day. During our daily walks together, we’ve gotten to know each other. More importantly, I think, a lot of us have gotten to like each other.
        Nevertheless, I also had some sad news to share with Gisele. While having lunch at HQ, I learned that another young faculty member and her family were leaving. I wasn’t totally surprised. I had met this woman shortly after she had arrived at Acadia and shortly before she had given birth to her last child. The meeting was grievance related, so I can’t go into details, but suffice it to say that one of the administrators gave her some grief about taking maternity leave. More grief followed when she was finally on leave. And things obviously didn’t improve much when she returned. So why would she stay given this unfair treatment? Yes, AUFA tried to look out for her through our grievance office. Yes, I’m sure that her colleagues were also supportive, though from what I know, many of them are facing similar difficulties. But that wasn’t enough to keep her and her family here.
        When the working environment is as toxic as the one I’ve just described, the danger extends beyond the workplace. Families are on the line. And leaving is a very appealing option because it’s a way of protecting one’s family from contamination. Unfortunately, I know firsthand that while this particular faculty member’s situation may be extreme for Acadia, it’s not unique. So I understand why she is leaving, and I certainly don’t begrudge her the decision. But I am saddened by the fact that I won’t get to know her and her family, as I am slowly getting to know and value my other colleagues on the line.

On family day, AUFA Strikers were treated to this little performance.