WINTER 2012 - National Association of Schools of Public Affairs and ...

Blue-Collar Teaching
Half of my family immigrated to America from Germany in 1876. My greatgrandfather
was thrown out of that country because he was a union agitator. The
other half are from Slovakia, coming to America about the same time. Once in
America, both sides became farmers. Until my mother graduated high school
in 1937, none of her family had ever gotten that far; most perhaps barely made
it beyond grade or grammar school. My mother attended a nursing training
program in a hospital when that was how one learned that profession before it
required a college degree. She did a little nursing, but quit and did not work
again until my father was ill and died young from cancer. She then became a
cook at a retirement home.
My father never made it past eighth grade. He dropped out early to support
his mother after her husband died. My father served in the army during World
War II, going AWOL because of persecution due to his German ancestry. My
parents married during the war; he drove a cab in New York City until they left
in the early 1950s to find a new life in upstate New York.
The good life for my family was public service. My father worked in a state
hospital laundry, but he had a second job as an orderly in a county nursing
home. He worked seven days a week, nearly 70 hours. He did that until the
work, plus a two-pack-a-day habit, killed him at age 61. I was 16 at the time.
My mother then went to work as a cook; that lasted until she was 63 and died of
breast cancer. I was 24.
My father and family did real work. They lifted, grunted, and sweated. They
cleaned other peoples’ clothes, fixed their meals, and tended to their bodily
needs. My father often told me he worked hard so that I would not have to. It is
a lesson I remember well, but it still affects me in terms of my work ethic.
A Working-Class Childhood
I grew up working-class Roman Catholic in a New Deal household. My
parents voted for FDR, but they also supported Nelson Rockefeller. My family
was union—Civil Service Employees Association. I remember in 1973, the year
before my father died, that between his two jobs and the rent we received from
the upstairs tenants in our two-family house, we grossed $10,000. I thought we
were rich. I came of age during Vatican II, JFK, RFK, and Martin Luther King
Jr. From the Kennedys and my parents’ work, I learned about public service and
the dignity of government helping others. From Vatican II and Pope Paul II, I
learned the message of social justice. The Church was telling me to go change the
world, help the less fortunate, and serve others. The Sermon on the Mount was
my inspiration.
I attended public schools and after-school religious education. I was a sickly
boy, and no one ever thought I would survive childhood. From my mother
I inherited a blood disease. The main symptoms are anemia, a compromised
immune system, and an enlarged spleen. My mother, a medical guinea pig
Journal of Public Affairs Education 69