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From Professor to Precariously Unemployed:

Four Months of Uncertainly During the Covid-19 Crisis

By Brooke ElizabethPublished 4 years ago 5 min read
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One of the last pictures I took of the whiteboard in my classroom before Covid-19 struck the U.S.

I’m just one of millions of Americans currently still unemployed and depending on the federal and state government (New York in my case) to keep me afloat during this pandemic. I used to spend my days teaching English to immigrant and refugee students at a local community college and doing freelance ESL and volunteering immigration assistance on the side. On the weekends, I was a wine consultant at a local wine and liquor store. These days, I spend my time cringe-watching CNN, meticulously checking my bank account, creating worst-case-scenario budgets for the month ahead, job hunting, and drinking copious amounts of wine.

I’ll be honest, for a while I was living my best life ever on unemployment. In ten years as an educator, this June was the first paid month I’ve ever had off work (Europeans get this every year?!). Even as a public high school teacher I never had paid time off aside from the occasional sick day. Summers were always the worst, because despite the common misconception that summer break is a vacation for teachers, it’s actually just ten weeks without a paycheck. Educators are traditionally excluded from unemployment benefits, despite being laid off for ten weeks at a time every year. Thanks to the federal Pandemic Unemployment Assistance (PUA), in May I was able to pay rent, pay all of my bills, buy some things that I’ve needed for a long time, and put some money in my savings account. Before, even with my three jobs, I rarely had much left at the end of the month to put in savings.

In June, I was able to buy furniture for the first time in fifteen years. On top of that, I didn’t have to leave the house, didn’t have to wake up early, ever, and could afford to order out whenever I wanted. Here in New York, for the first time ever we could get alcohol delivered. Margaritas on demand? Yes! Taco Tuesday forever! Being able to buy furniture or order food whenever I want may seem trivial, but hear me out: Even though I’m a professional with two Master’s degrees, I’m making more money on unemployment than I ever have in my entire life. For months now I’ve watched as Republican members of Congress have consistently criticized the expanded federal employment benefits that I myself am receiving. Many of them have concerns that people will be making more money not working than before they were unemployed. They worry that we won’t want to go back to work because we’re all receiving a minimum of $600 a week right now, regardless of our previous salaries. To that I say, you’re right! Aren’t you as angry as I am that your fellow hardworking Americans are so underpaid? Now that we all know how grossly underpaid we are, it will be impossible not to expect better once things return to ‘normal’. This is what they’re actually afraid of.

I’m not proud to say I make more money not working than when I was working. When Republican senators decried the expansion of federal unemployment assistance, they and everyone else were probably thinking of minimum wage workers who’d receive more money from unemployment than they did at their jobs. I’m not a minimum wage worker though. I was a Professor. I attended graduate school not once, but twice. Before Covid-19 I worked three jobs. I’m embarrassed to be making more money sitting at home watching CNN than in my classroom, where for years I have literally changed people’s lives. It’s infuriating to have lost everything I’ve worked so hard for. I’d just spent a year working on immigration paperwork for one of my students. We’d been practicing civics and history for his test and interview with USCIS. I should be attending his naturalization ceremony, not wasting hours scrolling through Instagram. I miss my students, and I want to be back in my classroom.

Unfortunately, like many others, I didn’t just lose my livelihood for the time being. My teaching jobs aren’t coming back. Just yesterday I read two different newspaper articles detailing the dire straits in which my community college finds itself. Decreased enrollment, dramatic budget cuts, faculty and staff layoffs. What this translates to is indefinite unemployment for me. I was not scheduled to teach any courses next semester. I don’t know if I will ever teach a class there again. If Congress hadn’t expanded federal unemployment benefits to include an additional $600 a week for those of us who’d lost our jobs, I would have lost my apartment and had my vehicle repossessed by now. It took a month for my unemployment benefits to kick in, but they have been a literal lifesaver since May.

The expanded federal unemployment benefits are set to expire at the end of the month, in just three weeks. I, like so many others, will receive just three more weeks of unemployment benefits before I’m left in the lurch. If I had a classroom to return to, believe me I’d already be there. Before Covid struck, I had $0 in savings. I spent every penny I had last January to travel to Samos, Greece to volunteer outside of Vathi refugee camp. At the time, it felt like the right thing to do. I had no idea what would await me back home. We didn’t even make it to the halfway point of the Spring semester before we were sent home and asked to teach online for the rest of the academic year. I never could have predicted I’d lose not one, but two teaching jobs at the same time. I’m incredibly grateful for the safety net that many lawmakers fought hard to create for unemployed Americans like me, but if Congress doesn’t extend the expanded unemployment benefits, or distribute additional stimulus payments to all Americans, I will not be able to continue paying rent, I will not be able to pay my bills, and I will not be the only one. Congress must act quickly.

education
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About the Creator

Brooke Elizabeth

Working-class English Educator with Expertise in Refugee and English Language Learner (ELL) Education. I have a Master of Arts in International Development, a Master's in Education, and A LOT of existential dread.

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