A lesson from those striking writers

First period junior English class took an unexpected turn one day last week. Ms. Burt’s lesson plan on fiction was co-opted by recent non-fiction events in the news – the Hollywood writers’ strike.

“Good morning class,” said Ms. Burt. “Time to hand in your writing.”

Morgan spoke up. “Sorry, Ms. Burt. We’re not working today. We’ve joined the Writers Guild of America. We’re going on strike.”

The rest of the class nodded in agreement. Things looked bad for the class discussion of narrative style in Faulkner that Ms. Burt had planned.

“What does English class have to do with striking writers in Hollywood?” replied Ms. Burt.

“As it turns out, our issues are identical,” said Morgan. “Look. You’re essentially a producer of a show. It’s called ‘Junior English.’ You assign us work, we do it the best we can, and then you benefit from what we write.”

“True, I pick up a paycheck for producing this ‘show,’ as you call it. But you also benefit from writing, don’t you?” replied Ms. Burt. “That is, you’re ‘paid’ with good grades if you turn in quality work. It’s also a little show called ‘Preparation for Life.'”

“That’s a gross oversimplification of the situation,” said Morgan. “Sure, we get grades. But that’s the old school economy. We’ve got royalty issues. We haven’t been earning our fair share of the future profits that you’ll realize, based on our work. It’s also a show called ‘Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.'”

“Future profits?” Ms. Burt looked confused. “Sounds like ‘Double Jeopardy’ to me.

“Here’s how this really works,” said Morgan. “You need our test scores to demonstrate Adequate Yearly Progress as part of the No Child Left Behind Act. Right?”

“True,” said Ms. Burt. “I call that show ‘Fear Factor.'”

“And that’s a kind of multi-year, future proceeds based on our creative content,” said Morgan. “It means we are artists, after all, and deserve a piece of the profit that you’re making based on our intellectual productivity. It’s a performance that keeps on giving, just like reruns or DVD sales. ‘Show me the money Jerry.'”

“Let me get this straight,” said Ms. Burt. “You wrote a paper for today’s class. I’m going to grade your paper to see if you’re learning about writing. Eventually, you’ll take a standardized test that’s designed to affirm that you’ve achieved the state learning targets. This credits, or discredits, our school district -and qualifies you for future ‘shows’ – like college.”

“Right,” said Morgan. “Credit can be money or bureaucratic capital or individual qualifications. See? Our rights are really the same as Hollywood screen and television writers. They write jokes for Letterman or stories for ‘Men in Trees,’; we write Faulkner essays. They want a share of future DVD royalties; we want a share of learning results. Just making the grade is not enough any more. It’s all about leveraging futures.”

Ms. Burt looked pensive for a moment, and then a light came on in her eyes.

“Learning results work both ways” she said. “Does this mean you’d be willing to share your future profits with me – profits that might be based on my work?” she asked. “Let’s say one of you publishes a novel or writes a screenplay. Do I deserve a royalty calculated on your creativity? After all, I did teach you how to spell correctly, and write grammatically and with style! Isn’t some of your success based on my intellectual property? My performance as the teacher-producer-host of Junior English leverages your futures.”

Morgan considered her point. “Maybe. But there’s a wild card factor here. We could just put our work on YouTube. Cut out the producer’s rights altogether and get celebrity as well as royalties. There are plenty of examples – student academic work posted directly to the Internet that leads to lucrative media exposure. If you want school and learning results to keep going, you’re going to need students doing ‘seat time.’ I’m afraid the educational world is flat, to borrow a phrase. That means we’re due a bigger piece of the learning pie.”

“Good points,” said Ms. Burt. “Very interesting. It appears our co-production of this show may be at a stand-off for now.”

Morgan and the rest of the class beamed with confidence that they had made their case.

“However, I’d hate to see Junior English sent into reruns for lack of writers,” said Ms. Burt. “Summer school reruns, if you get my point. It’s a little game show I call, ‘Deal or No Deal.’ So is that your final answer?”

Todd R. Nelson is principal of the Adams School in Castine.