As new classroom teachers at a school in suburban Pittsburgh in the early 2000s, Erin Ruggiero and Melissa Costantino-Poruben became fast friends, bonding over their shared passion for advocating for their profession. Their friendship—and their commitment to the cause—endure, with both women serving as National Education Association directors within the Pennsylvania State Education Association, representing the members of their state union at the national level. We spoke with them about their pathways to activism and why they believe it’s important.
“Melissa and I have always been particularly interested and involved in what’s happening around us and how politics affect our careers and our lives,” Ruggiero says. “It’s a running joke at PSEA that I only ever skipped school once in high school, and that was to go to a Bill Clinton rally. But in addition to that, Melissa and I started our careers with a really great principal.” She notes that her early mentorship had a powerful ripple effect. “In addition to the two of us, another woman and a man who started teaching at the same time under the same principal are also very involved in PSEA. I think that we were shown what’s possible, and we’ve been trying to fight to get that for teachers ever since.”
Costantino-Poruben’s commitment to union work was even more firmly cemented in the early 2010s when Pennsylvania governor Tom Corbett enacted substantial cuts to the state’s education budget, and Costantino-Poruben’s husband, a fellow teacher, lost his job as a result. “It was a really tough couple of years,” she recalls, adding that her work on a PhD was also disrupted. “So many people were furloughed. At that time, it hit me hard that being a teacher, our jobs are political. The question for me became, If I’m not fighting for this, then who is? Who’s telling our story? That’s when I stepped away from my doctoral program and started getting super involved in politics.”
Ruggiero followed suit, after having been through a strike in her district. “Learning about how important it is to get involved politically as teachers comes with a lot of lessons and a lot of mentorship, and I had both,” she says. “I saw what was happening that was hurting our members, our children, and our public education, and then my best friend was getting involved in a lot of important work and she laid a path for me.”
Interested teachers who may not have administrators or friends guiding the way can find mentorship from their local union members, Ruggiero points out. “I started in my local as the retirement party chair,” she says, laughing. “Little by little, you have people showing you what you can do and how you can help, and everybody finds their way to fight for our schools.”
Costantino-Poruben says she relishes opportunities to introduce others to union-supported advocacy efforts. Low-pressure points of entry might include helping someone learn about member benefits or inviting them to accompany her to a lobby day or a meeting. It’s a way to gauge a person’s level of interest. “We do these monthly executive committee meetings for the western region, and some people like me have been attending for 20 years,” she says. “They’re not always the most exciting events, but you’re learning about other districts and programs, and everything that the union can do for you, and in return, what you can do for the union. I always try to remind people that we are the union. And if you want something to be better, you have to be part of it, or at least raise your voice enough so other people join you.”
Many locals of state NEA affiliates offer new teacher lunches or other leadership outreach to new hires at the beginning of the school year to talk about the benefits of union membership. “The legal protections that come from it are huge,” Costantino-Poruben says. “It’s like buying car insurance, but in addition to the insurance you also get some discounts, mentorship opportunities, professional development.” PSEA hosts an annual week of training in Gettysburg, which Costantino-Poruben terms “union camp,” which brings members up to speed on involvement in organizing, government relations, collective bargaining, and more. “We also have leadership conferences throughout the year in different regions and there are oodles of resources on the PSEA and NEA websites,” Ruggiero says.
Bringing new teachers into the fold
Of course, picking up the advocacy mantle begins with becoming an educator—a daunting proposition in a turbulent political and social climate. With the country already battling a critical and worsening teacher shortage—of roughly 110,000 teachers in 2023–2034 according to the Learning Policy Institute—the Trump administration has delayed or threatened to eliminate federal funding via the Department of Education for vital teacher preparation programs.
“I truly believe that being an educator is a calling, and I also believe that it’s service,” Costantino-Poruben says. “For those of us who want to serve our communities, I think becoming an educator is the best thing that you can do.” She encourages potential teachers to be introspective and take care with the decision. “I knew when I was in college that becoming a teacher meant I was never going to make a ton of money. I’m 25 years in the classroom and it’s a very different climate that we’re working with now, but it’s still the service to the community that drives me. I love my students.”
This academic year, Ruggiero shared similar advice with the student teacher in her classroom, a woman who was 40 years old and starting fresh in a new career. “She asked me many times, ‘Am I doing the right thing?’ ” Ruggiero recalls. “My mantra to her was that there are a lot of challenges in this job, but many of the challenges have nothing to do with the kids. Those are fights that we can fight, but at the end of the day, every single kid in our classroom is still just a kid, and we’re here to take care of them, to make things better for them, and to give them potential and hope.” Working through all the muck that comes with teaching, Ruggiero adds, is well worth it when you’re supporting students.
Costantino-Poruben and Ruggiero agree that, in many ways, supporting students has become more difficult. The list of challenges is long. “It’s different for different teachers,” Costantino-Poruben says. “If you asked an elementary teacher, they might say student behaviors. A kindergarten teacher would say that they have a lot of students who aren’t coming to school potty-trained. And an emotional support teacher might say they’re worried about their safety because of the violent behaviors that are happening with children.”
In her own classroom experience as a sixth grade math teacher, Costantino-Poruben is seeing a Covid effect. “We’re still just catching up,” she says, on things like basic computation. “If you ask a kid, ‘What’s half of 14?’ they need a calculator.” She notes that there are also a good number of students who continue to struggle with what it means to be in school, even five years after the pandemic shutdowns and disruptions.
“It all comes down to resources and staffing,” Ruggiero says. “We all have different issues, and they change from decade to decade, but now more than ever we’re short on staff. We’re short teachers, we’re short paraprofessionals—and that’s universally, from classroom resource to custodial to the cafeteria workers and bus drivers.” To that point, the crux of Ruggiero and Costantino-Poruben’s work now is advocating for the funding and the legislation to ensure that districts and teachers have the support they need.
The uncertainty surrounding education funding is a challenge in itself. “We’re taking it bill by bill and election by election,” Ruggiero says. “Our advocacy comes in working to elect pro–public education candidates. And then the other piece of it is, we do a lot of lobbying through our national union and our state affiliate.” Efforts might include email campaigns or hosting roundtables, and this month both Ruggiero and Costantino-Poruben are heading to Harrisburg to lobby for various education bills in the Pennsylvania General Assembly. Additionally, both women lobby at every super week with federal legislators in Washington, D.C.
When they first became teachers, neither Ruggiero nor Costantino-Poruben imagined that advocacy would be such an integral and extensive part of their day-to-day work. “Each person’s contribution to union work is going to be individualized based on their experience and mentorship,” Ruggiero says. “My husband’s a special education teacher and has endured some serious stuff in his career—he’s been laid off, he’s been injured. And, you know, that makes me work harder.”
“It helps to have a friend,” Costantino-Poruben says. “There are some days where I’m like, I can’t do this anymore. And then I call Erin and she convinces me that we can keep going forward. I continue to tell myself, if not me then who? We know that the only way other people are going to come in is if you’re guiding them and being their role model. And I think that’s important.”
Ruggiero is also grateful for their buddy system, and for other supportive nuggets that keep her going. “Sometimes it does feel really thankless,” she says. “But every once in a while, you get a little something, like somebody on my staff sent me a lovely text message thanking me for doing the advocacy work that she didn’t have time to do.” She sees parallels to the profession in general, too. “You teach and you teach, and it feels thankless, and then some kid hugs you, or sends you a beautiful note, and then you’re like, Okay, I got this.”
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