I Guess I Am a Nasty Woman


In November of 1970 I discovered I was pregnant.  While I understand the mechanics of the situation I was still surprised.  I had been married less than 2 years and thought I was years away from starting a family.  As it turns out, I am the kind of woman who can’t drink out of the same glass as my husband without ending up “in a family way.”  But life happens and my husband and I started planning for life with our first child. 
I dutifully informed my principal that I was pregnant, but no problem.  The last day of school was June 4 and I wasn’t due until June 9.  I was also healthy as a horse and still do not have the faintest idea what morning sickness is (thankyou, God). 
What happened next was not in my plan.  Two days after informing my principal I had a note in my school mailbox to drop by the administration building at the close of the day.  I did and was sent to see the Assistant Superintendent for Elementary Education.  Sitting in Dr. X’s office I was informed that I needed to sign the papers requesting maternity leave starting January 1.  I smilingly informed him that I did not intend to take maternity leave and would work until the end of the school year.  Unfortunately, Dr. X said I did not have that options.  In 1970 in St. Louis, MO women did not teach when they were visibly pregnant.  I would take maternity leave—unpaid maternity leave.
As Dr. X and I argued this point back and forth the back of his cubicle office filled with three other men, including the superintendent of schools.  At one point, in tears, I said I needed to go home and talk to my husband about this.  I started to get up, only to have the hand of the superintendent push me (firmly but gently) back into my seat.  I was told that this matter would be settled now. 
Dr. X pointed out that I was a probationary teacher.  If I could not complete the year, I would be dismissed with no chance of rehire.  I would sign those papers before I would be allowed to leave.
I was distraught.  I needed that job.  I needed that income.  All I had ever wanted to do was teach.  What happened next is still crystal clear in my memory.  Desperately, tearfully, I remember saying, “I have a signed contract.  Can you make me break a signed contract?” 
There was the slightest pause.  Dr. X moved almost imperceptibly back in his chair.  And it was clear.  It was perfectly clear.  They could not make me sign that paper.  They could try to bully me, frighten me, intimidate me, but they could not MAKE me sign that request for maternity leave. 
I got up, said I was not taking maternity leave and would work the full term of my pregnancy.  I pushed my way through that wall of men and went home.  I taught the rest of the school year without taking even one sick day.  I completed the school year on June 4th, went into labor on June 8th and my daughter was born on June 9th, her due date. 
To their credit, I do not think those men were evil.  They were ignorant and victims of their times.  But they did unleash a bit of a beast.  I do not like being bullied.  I was the first woman in my district to teach the first term of her pregnancy.  But I also turned out to be the first woman to wear a pants instead of a dress to work.  The first to act as picket captain in a strike, the first to get a Master’s degree in administration, and a principal’s certification.  I also ended up having the grudging respect of most of the men in that room. 
Given the times, I found myself thinking of this personal history.  The story of an ordinary woman who, like generations of ordinary women, found herself fighting just to keep the faith.  God bless us all.

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