Strike Earns N.J. Teachers Some Jail Time

On Saturday, the Middletown High School South Tigers won the state football championship. On Monday, their head coach went to jail.

Coach Steve Antonucci was among 135 striking schoolteachers and secretaries behind bars by day’s end Wednesday, and the number is expected to swell as nearly 900 continue to defy a judge’s order to get off the picket line and into the classroom.

The five-day strike and jailings have torn this otherwise average American suburban community in two. Favorite kindergarten teachers, drama coaches and others who have always seen themselves as normal, law-abiding folks are being led to jail sobbing or defiantly denouncing the local school board and residents.

“This town ought to be ashamed of itself,” said Lauren Spatz, a second-grade teacher. “The parents don’t care about education. . . . It’s not going to be the same ever again. The teachers’ morale is going to be shot.”

But parents and administrators say the teachers’ timing couldn’t be worse, with layoffs at nearby computer firms and families still shaken by the death of more than 30 local residents in the World Trade Center attacks.

And there is no end in sight.

“It’s become a war,” said plain-spoken, chain-smoking school Supt. Jack DeTalvo, shortly before getting on the phone to give instructions to the board’s attorney about how to garner the best coverage on local evening news shows.

One thing all sides agree on: If and when the contentious job action ends, the bitterness could leach into the classroom.

The strike has left 10,500 students out of school in this sprawling suburb of 70,000 an hour and a half south of New York City. With record-breaking warm weather, the days off are a treat for the children but a hardship for working parents, who range from truck drivers to Wall Street investment brokers.

In addition, state law dictates that all missed school days are made up at the end of the year.

Teachers counter that a few days of inconvenience is minor compared to being hauled off in handcuffs.

“I’m a soccer mom, I drive a van and I have a dog,” science teacher Katie Connelly said with a rueful laugh as she sat waiting to go to jail. “But this is our revolution. . . . The only way you get respect is if you stand up for yourself.”

Dispute Over Who Pays Health Benefits

At the heart of the dispute is a demand by the school board that the union members pay a percentage of rising health benefits instead of a flat annual fee of $250. The strikers angrily respond that they will end up having to pay up to $600 extra for benefits, which would effectively cancel out wage increases. The teachers have been offered pay raises of 3.8%, 4% and 4.2% over three years.

The teachers went on strike for a short time three years ago. They said the board at that time had ignored the recommendations of a fact-finder and instead imposed a contract on them that, by law, they said they had to accept. This time, the union is calling for binding arbitration, which the school board has refused, insisting that the teachers return to class first.

Many residents said the sight of teachers going to jail was not a surprise in a town where school board and union relations have been acrimonious for two decades.

“I think it’s unfortunate it’s come to that, but they broke the law,” said Cordie Adams, 42, mother of two preschool children. “It’s time for them to join the real world,” said Adams, a former benefit administrator for health insurer Delta Dental. “They get paid well and they have great benefits.”

The pay scale for teachers ranges from $36,000 to about $81,000, Supt. DeTalvo said. “They are the highest paid teachers on average in the county--$56,000 average salary.”

Jailing teachers for refusing to return to work is rare; this is the first time in more than 20 years that it’s happened in New Jersey.

While there is no law specifically banning New Jersey teachers from striking, there is a long case history of judges ordering them back to work because of “irreparable harm to students,” said Michael Gross, a school board attorney.

The school board appealed to the courts, and Monmouth County Superior Court Judge Clarkson S. Fisher ordered the strikers back to work Thursday. On Monday, he began jailing them in alphabetical order.

On Wednesday, a second judge was assigned to question the strikers as well, and dozens more were called up in order by their last names. The Cs through Js stood before the judges, were asked if they were deliberately disobeying the order and then were led away.

One veteran teacher retired from the profession on the stand rather than go back to work or go to jail. Afterward, she walked over to a young special education teacher she had taught years earlier and gave him a hug before leaving the courtroom.

The young teacher, who is physically disabled and walks on crutches, was called before the judge and asked if he was able to go to jail. “I would be honored,” said Billy Durr, 26.

The judge complied.

Tom and Carol Erbig, high school sweethearts who now teach in Middletown, sat side by side in the jury box. She cried as she described how torn she felt between her family at home and her family in jail. Tom Erbig, a soccer coach, said: “I apologize to the court; I have never, ever broken the rules, but I believe there is a time where you have got to stand up and say, ‘This is wrong.’ ”

Judge Ira Kreizman decided that, because the Erbigs have young children, only he would be incarcerated. Both judges excused some because of medical conditions or ill spouses, but child-care difficulties were not allowed as an excuse for many. So far, 110 teachers have opted to return to work rather than go to jail.

Outside court, Phyllis Harper, a special education teacher and cheerleading coach, said what stung most was making phone calls to cheerleaders and their parents and having them tell her they did not support what she is doing.

“I cried,” she said.

Some Ambivalence Among Parents

Outside the Super Stop and Shop grocery store on busy Route 35, Elaine Eltingham shepherded her two daughters and baby son through the parking lot. Her daughters normally would have been at River Plaza Elementary School. Her husband, a computer network engineer, is one of 6,000 people laid off from the Telecordia communications firm in October. He just got a new job.

“I think the union is using Middletown children as a pawn in a power play,” she said. “I love our teachers . . . and it’s kind of a treat to spend extra time with the girls, but they’re losing out on school time.”

Her 9-year-old daughter, Samantha, said: “I’m sad because we’re going to have extra school at the end of the year. But I’m happy my teacher’s last name begins with Z, because she’ll go last and I’ll see her on TV.”

Eltingham and other parents stressed that they are worried about the long-term effect in the classroom.

A group called the Parent Information Council met Tuesday night and appointed representatives to try to obtain information from both sides about sticking points. If it gets the data it wants, the group plans to convene emergency parent-teacher meetings in the next few days to determine if there is something it can do.

Negotiations led by two state-appointed mediators resumed Wednesday night, but neither side was optimistic.