I ask him to tell me what’s under the green t-shirt. To explain to me what the human part is that sustains the impressive Valencian educational strike – the longest in 38 years – in defense of public education, the language, and the working conditions of teachers. And he talks to me about tears, pride, and forgiveness, and I didn’t expect that. He tells me: The word I repeat most at home these weeks is forgiveness. I repeat it constantly as I put on an already worn-out t-shirt and a torn vest. Forgive me for not having gone shopping, forgive me for not having remembered that, forgive me for not being home, for always being glued to the phone. We have abandoned personal life to defend our work and the future, and that will take its toll. It already is. The other day, cycling to a friend’s house to prepare sandwiches for the strikers, I found myself half crying on the bike path. We can no longer bear this tension or this constant struggle and we need it to end. Because they are burning us and ours. Yes, I have met wonderful people in marches, assemblies, or concentrations, but I need to return to my life. We don’t want to be heroes of public education: we just want good public education. And in Valencian, which they forget.
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It’s a source of pride to wear the t-shirt, but it’s not comfortable to be a striker. It’s not comfortable to have to explain, shout, agree, concede, stand firm, or make a fuss at home with untimely departures, with an “I’m leaving” without being able to guarantee when I’ll be back. We’re tired of the lunches that don’t arrive, and the dinners that we haven’t finished. We’re tired of reading “I’ve left your lunch in the microwave” or “I’ve left your pajamas in the bathroom, good night.” Yes, we do this because we believe in our work, but we are not machines. And if we are, we are like those whose batteries run out or like those that, from so much production, break a part. We are teachers, but also people. That is forgotten. And I need to be able to enjoy my life. But at home, I learned that if you want something, you have to do something to get it. And that is a source of pride, but it also pushes you to the limit if you truly believe in it, as is my case and that of many, many people.
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I want it all to end, but I want it to end with dignity and without yielding. Without accepting crumbs or with shame. That’s why I want to take off the green t-shirt, but I know the time has not yet come. I also know that this will cost me health, energy, relationships, and arguments. It will cost me time, money, and strength, but I am convinced of what I am doing. I know the day will come when we take it off. And that we will return to institutes and schools to teach. Another battle will begin there: that of closing a wound that they have forced us to open between some teachers and others. But it will heal. Now what I want is to take off the t-shirt.
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