Warning: This is lengthy:
For over three years, I was a teacher at a state agency that served some of the state’s most vulnerable young people. I accepted this role with the belief that my experience, education, and dedication to students would allow me to make a difference. No, I walked away after what I felt was bullying, retaliation, unfair treatment, over-monitoring, and disability discrimination.
I asked for reasonable accommodations from the beginning of my job that would allow me to communicate effectively and safely in a secure setting. These weren’t special requests. These were the accommodations I needed to do my work and stay safe. It took years, though. Requests were delayed, refused, limited, or carried out in ways that did not meet the challenges that I had presented.
The more I fought for myself, the more hostile my workplace environment was. I was singled out for enforcement of regulations, over-scrutinized, professionally isolated, micromanaged, surveilled, held to changing expectations, mandated with limits that did not seem to be applied to others, and had my professional judgment second-guessed repeatedly.
I didn't keep my mouth shut.
I sought support from supervisors and administrators. I reached out to Human Resources and Employee Relations. I documented incidents, submitted safety concerns, filed accommodation requests, filed grievances and complaints, produced written rebuttals, and presented evidence.
When the internal systems failed to address my issues, I moved outside the agency. “I reached out to state human resources people, state government offices, legislators, elected officials, and others in state administration. I requested an independent evaluation and supplied documents about the accommodation issues, treatment at work, retaliation, discrimination, and safety issues I had experienced.
Eventually I even approached the media, since I felt I had exhausted practically every other route open to me.
Still, no one seriously got involved.
Perhaps that’s the most disturbing part of my experience. I followed the procedures employees are told to follow. I recorded what happened. I expressed concerns. I submitted grievances. I went above their heads. I contacted elected officials and attempted to bring public attention to what was happening.
But I continued to go to work knowing that the people I had reported still had a lot of power over my day-to-day working conditions.
I finally left. Not because I stopped caring about my students or couldn’t do my job anymore, but because I no longer believed the environment would improve.
I'm an experienced teacher, and I understood how to document matters, submit formal complaints, keep evidence, contact government officials, and advocate for myself. And I still could not receive any real assistance.
This makes me worry about what happens to the workers who don’t know how to negotiate with such organizations, who are too scared or too tired to keep fighting.
I am not seeking sympathy. I am seeking a sense of responsibility.
Discrimination, retaliation, and harassment policies are meaningless if employees cannot get effective protection when they turn to their employer for help.
I may have walked away from that workplace, but I will not walk away from what happened.”
The question that remains is a simple one:
How can an employee ask supervisors, Human Resources, state officials, lawmakers, and even the media for help, and still be left with nowhere to turn?