Three years ago my wife and I decided to quit teaching in
Arizona and move to rural Utah where we, with the help of my parents, built a
home on my family’s land—90 acres of Juniper and gamble oak with maple and
cottonwood running along the two stream beds.
It was a giant leap of faith that we’d be able to secure a
means of sustenance in such a rural community, but we prayed about it, and it
felt right.
Finding meaningful employment in education was difficult to
say the least. Teaching positions seldom
open here, and when they do, competition is fierce, and openings are usually
filled with relatives or friends with strong ties to the community. I have no problem with that. In communities with such small economic
bases, it’s important to provide people already invested in the community with
jobs before reaching out to the wider world for individuals who may not even
stay.
But, as I had been away since 8th grade, and as
my step-father had been retired for years, it made getting hired very difficult
for us.
We eventually were hired at a boy’s home in a near-by
community as support staff, and I was hired later as one of the two teachers.
My job requires every bit as much time, ability and energy
as a position at a public high school does, except I work year-around, only
have three days off (Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the Fourth of July) and I
don’t receive any benefits, and until recently, I only earned $12.00 an hour.
It sounds awful, but it isn’t. Instead, it’s incredibly meaningful because
the school has a strong program and changes boys’ lives forever. Not every student finds a better version of
themselves. A few return to lives of
substance abuse and crime not long after they are released. But more than half go on to lead lives that
include college, sobriety and respect for themselves and others, something
their parents could only dream of prior to treatment.
And even the kids who fail and return to their former
destructive lifestyles experience a year or two of sobriety, clarity and peace,
where they move ahead on their academics, and at least for a while begin to
build bridges with their family.
What’s not to like about that? And yet, if it were not for the Affordable
Care Act, I would most likely have to quit and find employment elsewhere, which
would require my leaving the land and community I love. I don’t need a lot, but I do need a way to
pay medical bills, and the job I have simply doesn’t provide that.
It should. It’s even
owned by a big, international healthcare company. But the reality is that it doesn’t. Because the Affordable Healthcare Act
subsidizes my healthcare, I can do what I love to do best—help young people
find themselves.
And I’m not sure that’s unfair to tax payers. My job keeps juveniles with severely troubled
backgrounds (rape, sexual deviancy, theft, violence, etc.) from becoming
incarcerated adults, which costs society far more than what it costs to
supplement my healthcare. And, of
course, at least while they are in treatment, my work keeps other tax payers safe.
The lie that is propagated by certain media groups is that
everyone who receives government assistance is lazy. But it’s not true. Most Americans want to contribute to
society. Because unions have lost their
bargaining power, the truth is many meaningful jobs no longer pay a living wage. As long as that is the case, people like me,
need assistance to contribute to society.
And as long as everyone is willing to put their fare share
into the system, it works. Marci and I
once made healthy wages and paid a good dose of middle-class taxes, as well as
gave a lot to both social programs and struggling individuals in our
neighborhood. I hope we get to that
position again, but in the meantime, I’m thankful that the Affordable Care Act
allows me to give troubled teens a fresh start on life. I see the changes in these kids, and know
it’s worth it. I am not a sponge on
society, and neither are many others, who because of the current economic
inequality in our nation, need assistance with medical expenses.
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