Why is a predominantly female profession so hostile to women?

It is not the first time I asked this question out loud to myself, “Why is a predominantly female profession so hostile to women?”

If you do not know what profession I am talking about, it is the [K-12] teacher education profession. On first instinct, my guess would be that because this professional was not established, nor has it ever been governed or managed by women, the group that is almost solely responsible for driving the success and resilience of this profession. Secondly, the predominant acceptance of the culture of capitalism in the United States, including within one of the most social institutions like education, with males at his realm influences whether the profession can be personable to its female teacher population! Third, perhaps, the socio-cultural acceptance, not just in the United States, that women are inherently nurturers [of young children], do-gooders,” and service-oriented, creates an expectation that, they will give over and above their means for the greater good [of others], especially children and young learners.

Statistically, according to the National Center for Education Statistics (NCES), women/females accounted for 77% of the public and private elementary and secondary school professional teacher population [see table on NCES website: https://nces.ed.gov/programs/digest/d17/tables/dt17_209.10.asp?current=yes]. That is a huge number to ignore. It is also a huge number to command respect, and set the agenda for the interests of female teachers within the education field.

So, why would I say that the education profession is hostile to women?

I use the word “hostility” to mean “very unfriendly” or “unaccomodative,” to the special needs or circumstances of its female professionals. My first interface with the hostility of the K-12 teacher profession happened to be with an institution that is in the business of special education. I had an interview with the director for a job as an Associate Substitute Teacher of Special Education. I was new to the Pocono Mountains region, and trying to re-establish my career within a profession that I felt best related to my credentials and career passion. Unable to find a drop-in child care center, and without a close family to rely on, I decided to take my child with me to the interview. I figured, since the organization works in education for children, they would not mind me showing up to the interview with my child. Perhaps, they would have a play area in the waiting/reception area, where my child could keep busy while l I interviewed with the Director. My son, then six was, and has always been a self-controlled child. I knew, he would not be a bother.

Except, the office thought otherwise. When the director came out to meet me, I thought he was going to usher me into the interview room. Instead, he stood in the reception area, and informed me that I could not have the interview with my son. I explained that I could not find childcare for the day. He apologized and said, I should come back when I have someone to help with my child. That I did. Job I got!

Yet, I felt really disturbed that an educational institution would not empathize with the challenges of parents with young children, particularly a single parent. Perhaps it is my “Uganda” social conceptualization of “child watch,” where people generally tend to show concern, if you show that you are willing to do anything to seize the moment. Or, because I have worked with organizations, even outside early childhood or K-12 education, which are compassionate toward mothers/families with small kids? Sometimes I would take my son to work, where he would be welcome without repercussions for my job security. I was wrong to assume, this organization would also understand.

Fast forward to my teacher education training, where it became even more clear to me that the K-12 profession is not friendly to female teachers. As a research assistant to my professor on a “teacher identity” project, I read about a female study participant conflicted between becoming a new parent and continuing to pursue her teaching career. Instead, she decided to quit teaching, and focus on starting a family, as chances of a family-work balance in her case were dim.

This reality hit me even harder as a student teacher in my area school. My teacher told me that her colleague, who previously taught the class she was now in had to quit teaching when she became a mother. She could not keep up with the demands of teaching elementary school children, while being a mother to her newborn child. Another friend, also in the same school could not afford to stay home with her second child beyond her annual leave days. She had exhausted all her personal days staying home with her first child born two years earlier. This is because the United States does not guarantee paid annual leave to new parents. So, she had to choose between going to work, or staying home with her newborn and not get paid. Fortunately, her parents lived in the same area, and offered to help babysit while she was at work.

So, how about female teachers without the benefit of grandparents to help with their responsibilities as new mothers of small children? How about aspiring educators pursuing teacher training, as parents of young children? This was my reality during my teacher-ed preparatory training. Not all my professors were as understanding, or accommodative of my parental responsibilities. As a single parent student, my schedule evolved around my elementary schooler. In my first semester, I had to drop a class because I could not find an affordable childcare service center that opened early enough to allow me drop off my son for preschool, before heading to school. As a full-time daytime student (which is the schedule for my teacher ed program), I did not have enough work hours during the week to earn a significant income to pay childcare. The next semester, a daycare facility had opened at a church in my neighborhood, where I could drop my son off in the morning before school, and they would put him on the school bus to school. The center was able to receive him after school until I returned home in the evening. Going to school full time without a disposable income nor reliable transportation meant that I had to negotiate with teachers or friends for help with child care.

Some of my teachers were understanding, and allowed me to bring my son to class when I did not have any other alternative. For instance, on days when my son was out of school, while our college was still open. Or, when I had evening or nightly classes after my son's school day ended. My son would sit in the back of the class with me, sometimes alone, quietly reading, drawing or completing learning activities on his Chromebook. Other professors were not as accommodative of my special circumstances. One in fact scolded me for bringing my son into her class. I wrote to her, asking, on short notice, if I could bring my son to class with me, explaining that I had failed to find anyone to help watch over my son, while I was in class. I promised that my son would not cause any disruption to her class, and gave her references of other professors in the department who would vouch for the behavior of my son.

I did not hear back from my professor before my class, I took my son with me to class. I assumed that since she was a “jovial” and seemingly “sociable” professor, she would not mind my son in class. Perhaps, she did not have a chance, or forgot to respond, so I thought! After class, my professor called me aside and told me she did not appreciate that I had brought my son to class without her permission. I explained that I had written to her but did not hear back from her. I also explained that other professors had allowed me to bring my son into class, when I had no alternative help, so I assumed she would not mind, either. I was taken back when she scolded me for being disrespectful toward her, “turning her classroom into a childcare center.” Then, she went on to tell my son, “You are a nice well behaved young man!”

I am sure my circumstances are not unique to me, but perhaps applicable to female students pursuing an education or career advancement. It is a symptom of the support system for career-driven mothers of young children in the United States. The public welfare system is not well set-up to support mothers of small children in the low income bracket, who are either going to school or work full-time. Where support is provided, the hurdles can be insurmountable at times. To qualify for public childcare assistance, one must still work at least 10 hours a week. However, in my teacher ed program, a full-time day program, it was next impossible to find work during the week.

I went to school five days a week, Monday to Friday, each day commuting to school and back home at least two hours each way. Since I did not own a car, which would reduce the commute to at least 30 minutes each way, I had to take the commuter bus. When I was not attending class, I was completing class assignments, working with classmates on projects, volunteering in my program, or observing or teaching K-4 classes, unpaid, as requirements for my study program. Once I got home, my parental responsibilities resumed, until my son went to school. Then, I began preparing for my classes, or completing pending assignments. On weekends, when I did not have to go to school, I had my son’s Boy Scout activities, and other parental responsibilities. I tried taking on a job at my local grocery store, which I could walk to without a need for my own transportation. Instead, I ended up paying more in childcare than I earned from working 14 hours on Saturday and Sunday. It did not make financial sense to continue working, when I was not earning enough to pay childcare!

That predicament of childcare and hostile conditions in the education field continue, even with [aspiring] beginner educations I recently went to take my teacher certification exams with my son, now 11 years of age. I read all the testing policies, “dos and don’ts” on the testing company website. I did not see any restrictions against “bringing your child”to the center. On the day of my test my son had a health appointment in the morning. Since we did not have enough time to return home before catching the bus to my test center, I figured I could take my son with me. Now that he is 11 years of age, I did not expect that he would be unwelcome to stay in the waiting area, while I took my test.

Instead, the test administrators rejected all my pleas to let him wait for me, while I took my test. It did not matter that I begged, explained that I recently graduated after a whole year of not earning an income due to student teaching. I would lose my test registration fees, if I did not take the test, since I did not cancel 24-hours in advance. I could not be poor and desperate enough to move the ladies, who told me, “There is nothing we can do about it!” Then, did not talk to me, thereafter. I frantically tried to call every friend I knew around, who could help me watch my son, while I took the test, but nobody answered their phone! Like that, I left, without taking the test.

How can any human say, “There is nothing we can do about it!” As someone who spent my formative career defending the human/legal rights of prisoners and refugees, visiting prisons, petitioning the government against unlawful detentions, knocking at doors or the criminal justice authorities again and again, I find it hard to accept those words, “There is nothing…” Anything humans create, humans could alter.

I am a strong believer in the unwavering goodness of the human spirit. I believe that, if we want to, we can look out for each other. I have been the recipient of the beauty of the human spirit, throughout my education and professional career. I have, as well, been able to share my goodness with others in need. I will go an extra mile to sideline established policies, if it will save life or help the disposed. Which I felt applied to my circumstances. To me losing $53.00 was tantamount to losing $1M! Money I had saved up to take my tests, that I could afford to lose. Yet, I lost, because system gatekeepers were not flexible enough for the social good!