Dear John,

If there’s one thing you learn when you work with Professor Reich (whom I am fortunate enough to now call Bob) for as many years as I have, it’s that he never stops! He generates an incredible amount of compelling content, including for us at Inequality Media Civic Action, his social media accounts, and for a number of partner groups we work with on specific campaigns.

But none of what Bob writes is more personal and timely than his daily Substack newsletter. He uses his Substack in a way that’s different from social media, and other platforms. For his Substack newsletter and community blog, Bob writes commentary on the news of the day often in real time. Whether it’s exposing Elon Musk’s hypocrisy, analyzing the January 6 committee hearings, or explaining the drivers of inflation -- to name just a few recent topics -- he dives in to share his thoughts and hear your feedback. That’s why he even contributes to the comments section and participates in the discussion.

It’s not all politics and policy though. He combines his writing with playful sketches and every Sunday does a cartoon caption contest. He provides direct access to his coursework, holds regular “office hours,” and he’s always testing out new ways to connect and engage. Here’s the deal: joining the Substack is completely free, but for just $50 for the whole year, you can help support the work that goes into creating it and get some extra perks, too. Will you sign up as a subscriber for Bob’s daily Substack newsletter now?

That’s my two cents’ worth, but providing an example of what you’re missing might be even more helpful, so I wanted to share with you a powerfully personal post from last week. Bob reflected on the end of a difficult school year and how one specific teacher influenced him profoundly. It’s an intimate piece, and touching; it prompted people to share their own experiences with life-changing teachers in the comments.

I think it’s a perfect way for you to get a sense of what makes Bob’s Substack blog different from everything else. (After all, I do the work I do in large part because of what I learned from Prof. Reich in graduate school.)

Check it out below and then, if you like it, join us and become a subscriber today.

Thanks for being a supporter of Inequality Media Civic Action. It’s an honor to work alongside all of you.

Heather Kinlaw Lofthouse
Executive Director, Inequality Media Civic Action

How much I owe Alice Camp

Thoughts at the end of a difficult school year
Robert Reich

Today marks the end of the school year for many public schools. Every year about this time I think of Alice Camp.

I arrived in her third-grade classroom in Lewisboro Elementary School, in South Salem, New York, as an extremely short, shy, insecure 8-year-old who was often bullied and mocked on the bus and made to feel like a loser on the playground, and had no particular interest in school.

But she saw in me something I didn’t see. She fed me books, projects, ideas. She challenged me and praised me. She made me feel special. Her slightly whacky sense of humor connected with mine. Her curiosity fueled mine (she didn’t mind if I stayed in at recess and barraged her with questions). Her enjoyment of literature made it okay for me to love books. She made me understand that I wasn’t a freak, that I might even be talented, that the drawings and writings I did (up until then alone at my small desk in my bedroom) were okay -- perhaps even good. And there was no reason for me to be so sad and ashamed, so fearful, so alone in the world.

I think of Mrs. Camp when I see America’s teachers blamed these days for almost everything imaginable -- yelled at by parents over masks, reprimanded by school boards about books they assign or let their students read, vilified by politicians for teaching about America’s history of racism, even told to arm themselves against the possibility that their classrooms will be invaded by murderous young men with semi-automatics.

Instead of berating them, we should honor them. Rather than impose ludicrous demands on them we should free them to teach and inspire. Instead of demeaning them, we should express our gratitude to them -- every day.

And we should pay them twice a much as they’re earning, or three times. Why in hell should investment bankers get paid fortunes for moving money from one set of pockets to another, when our teachers can barely afford to live on what they make? Bankers watch over our financial capital. Teachers watch over our human capital -- and therefore our future.

I never saw Alice Camp again after third grade ended for me that June of 1954. I never had a chance to thank her (although I do remember sitting cross-legged on the floor at the end-of-year school assembly, quietly crying about leaving her and trying desperately not to show it). She passed away long ago.

I had the great fortune to have other wonderful teachers over the rest of my years of public elementary and high school, and then in college and graduate school. I don’t recall thanking any of them, either. Most are gone by now. But I think of them often. And I am forever in their debt.

I suppose one way I’ve managed to pay back a small portion of that debt is to teach -- which I’ve done for most of the last forty years. I love teaching. I love my students. I can’t imagine a more rewarding or noble profession.