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By Our Hands: Oklahoma’s Biggest Teaching Moment

Oklahoma City sixth-grade teacher Cheryl Brouwer’s classroom has no math books. No math workbooks, either.

During class, her 27 students have had to cluster around the smartboard to copy down the math assignment from a projection screen. It’s cumbersome during the best of times, but everything comes to a halt when the internet connection goes down.

“I can’t say, ‘Turn to page 37,’” said Brouwer, who is in her 14th year as a teacher. “I have nothing I can send with them to take home. It’s difficult for students. It’s difficult for us to teach that way. I love the new technology, but we still need math books we can hold in our hands. We still need grammar books.”

Those are some of the reasons why Brouwer joined 30,000 educators in Oklahoma in a historic walkout to force politicians to address a chronic statewide public school funding crisis. There’s a similar grassroots actions arose in Kentucky and Arizona, and all three follow a surprising and successful work stoppage in West Virginia, where teachers walked off the job and won better funding and more pay for public employees.

The action in Oklahoma has been at least a decade in the making, Brouwer said.

“We’ve been watching this slow decline in the financing that it takes to run public schools properly,” Brouwer said.

In the days before the walkout, a list of concerns rolled through Brouwer’s mind, centered around her students. Many children at the Buchanan Elementary School where she teaches eat breakfast and lunch at school. Also, the students are heading into testing season.

“My kids need those test scores. Plus, I want to fulfill my obligation to the state,” she said.

Brouwer spoke to some of her students and their parents, who offered her encouragement and support, and she learned that nonprofits would be stepping forward to provide meals for kids who need them.

On the first day of the walkout, the feeling of the crowd at the state Capitol was electrifying.

“The energy level is next to miraculous. Dancing. Cheering. Singing. Chanting. Marching. The constant flow of movement. It’s not just physical movement. It’s spiritual. It’s amazing, the camaraderie you feel with 30,000 of your closest friends,” she said.

Inside the packed rotunda at the Capitol, thousands of teachers together sang Twisted Sister’s, “We’re Not Gonna Take It.”

“You know,” Brouwer said, and then she started singing, “We’re not gonna take it! No! We’re ain’t gonna take it!”

Brouwer has a beautiful voice, which incidentally ties into the reason she became a teacher in the first place. Her high school music teacher, Marcia Lynch, had a profound impact on her life. Lynch encouraged her to compete in chorus, helped her choose music, drove her to competitions and convinced her to apply to college and for scholarships.

“She’s one of my greatest heroes,” Brouwer said.

It’s a kind of public-spirited heroism that makes sense in Oklahoma, where folks readily help each other out and stand together during times of hardship.

“We always pull together during adversity,” Brouwer said. She cited the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl in the 1930s, and the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing.

“When we stand together, we’re a force to be reckoned with. This isn’t about Democrats or Republicans. We reach across the aisle. We reach across the street. And you’d be amazed at the number of administrators who are out there at the protests,” she said.

To Brouwer, throughout the two weeks of the walkout, it felt like all of Oklahoma rooted for its public school educators.

“My kids are excited about me doing what I’m doing. I told them, ‘I’ve got a history lesson to teach you when I get back, because we’re making history,’” she said.