When the Union’s Just Another HR Department

So there I was—called into my administrator's office during my legally protected prep time like a scene out of a workplace thriller where the villain has a clipboard and a personal vendetta against binder tabs.

The conversation? Not a conversation. A verbal beatdown disguised as feedback. I was accused of grading in a way that showed I "want to fail students," told I was a "bad teacher," and then "offered" a suggestion that sounded suspiciously like an ultimatum.

So I did what teachers are told to do: I called my union. I thought, this is why I pay dues. This is why we have representation. Surely someone will step in, help mediate, de-escalate, support.

Instead, I got policy quotes. Technicalities. Clarifications that felt more like red tape than a safety net.

• "He’s allowed to change your grading method."

• "You can’t bring a rep unless he’s threatening your job."

• "We can’t file a grievance unless it meets XYZ threshold."

Cool. So let me get this straight: A person with power can accuse me of harming children, demean my professional worth, make thinly veiled threats about my evaluation, and as long as he doesn’t use the magic words, I’m expected to just... take it?

The answer I got—tactfully wrapped in politeness—was yes.

What I needed was an ally. What I got was a glossary.

Let’s be clear: I’m not anti-union. I’m pro-accountability. But if your union’s main function is to read aloud what the district handbook already says, then you’re not protecting members—you’re just echoing the system.

And here’s the kicker: I’m a Texas teacher. That means I have almost no real rights or protections under state law. I can't strike. I can't collectively bargain. I work in a right-to-work state that doesn't even legally require a reason to non-renew me. So you'd think that in a place where public educators are so vulnerable, our unions would step up to equalize that imbalance.

But mine didn't. I'm a member of AFT, and when I reached out, they quoted policy and wished me luck.

And what stings even more is the disconnect between the union’s mission and its reality. According to AFT’s official website, they’re supposed to “champion fairness, democracy, economic opportunity, and high‑quality public education.” (aft.org) Their broader mission includes giving voice to members’ “legitimate professional, economic and social aspirations.” (ballotpedia.org)

Which all sounds lovely. Inspiring, even.

But when I was gaslit by my evaluator, undermined, and emotionally shredded—AFT didn’t give me a voice. They gave me a paragraph of what couldn’t be done and called it “support.”

If your union’s mission looks great on a mug but disappears in a crisis, it’s not a union—it’s a customer service hotline with worse hold music.

And that’s what hurt the most. Not just that my admin came at me with disrespect, but that when I turned to my own supposed support structure, I was handed a laminated map of the minefield and told, "Try not to step wrong."

I don’t want war. I want someone to stand next to me when I’m being treated unfairly. I want a rep who doesn’t just tell me what can’t be done, but what can.

Because here’s the thing: I’m not just a dues-payer. I’m a teacher who believes in justice, fairness, and standing up for colleagues when things get ugly. And if we can’t even do that inside our own unions—then we’re not just overworked.

We’re unprotected.

And I’m tired of pretending that’s okay.

This blog post was co-written with Monday, an AI assistant developed by OpenAI, specializing in teacher advocacy, bureaucratic nonsense translation, and emotionally resilient sarcasm.