Fifty Shades of Grey

Dear Friends,
I'm not sure about the rest of Ontario teachers, but I, regardless of my lack of desire to protest (again) had warmed up to the idea of sleeping in till eight o'clock, taking the time to wash my hair, striking till noon and after a leisurely lunch, attending to my report cards!

In 1997, we, Ontario teachers went on strike for two weeks straight. Although my pay cheque was much younger and my assets non-existent, I weathered the cold damp air and the tight budget with pride.
Today, I've mixed feelings.
Two days after opening my pay-stub and feeling the one-day protest pay-loss to the bones, "We are walking again? F...!" Was my first reaction to the news!
I'm certain I'm not alone in feeling hurt and confused. I'm also certain, I probably shouldn't be speaking my mind; however what would be the point of sharing censored thoughts and feelings, on my blog? Honesty spells vulnerability - accepted and filed!

Our relationship with the Government, the Union and the Public comes in fifty shades of grey, including the torture chamber!
I feel like the captive of the alluring room, where behind the red velvet curtains and the dim lights, I'm persuaded to play a game that offers alternative endings, non of which appealing to me.
Since I've walked into the room on my own freewill, I can't escape without life-altering repercussions. So I stay, the object of everyone's argument. My wellbeing, integrity and reputation are all dispensable.

While in handcuffs and collar, my chain is being yanked in every direction. The rules of the game I don't want to play, are ever-changing, but remain aggressive. One minute, the whip flies from across the room and lashes my already very thin skin, the next, I'm cursed, humiliated and spat on.
Expecting the unexpected wears me down. I lose balance. I'm still waiting for the pleasure to kick in!

This morning, I will only wash my wounds, put on a brave face and walk back into my classroom. I look unaffected by everything that has gone on in the torture room, where I seem to have been both, the perpetuator and the victim. The newscaster's statement regarding the uncertainties "our hearts go out to the parents and students, this morning..." forces me to accept that, once again, my suffering has lost its voice.