My colleague and I were talking today about how another colleague of ours, a social worker I guess you would call her, works incredibly hard—tirelessly—for her clients, and yet gets paid very little. She is literally out there saving lives every day. It made me think about how a lot of our public servants are underpaid…teachers absolutely, but also police officers, nonprofit employees, and legal aid attorneys. It was a running joke at my old legal aid law firm that the attorneys qualified to sign up for the same public benefits they were assisting their clients with. This also made me think about the traditionally undervalued stay-at-home mom.
I stopped in the middle of my conversation with my colleague. “What do we value?” Is it widgets? Do we value making widgets? Do we not value some things simply because they are less tangible than others? I thought about what we consider to be valuable – “valuables”—jewelry, cash, gold, rare art, fancy cars, expensive electronics… All these things have a commonality: they are expensive. They cost a lot of money to purchase. Therefore it would seem that we value things based on how much money they cost us to acquire. People don’t take out insurance policies on shampoo bottles because they are less “valuable,” i.e., they cost less money to replace.
So teachers, social workers, etc. aren’t valued because it does not cost us any money to use them. Public education, most social services, and a mother’s love also have a commonality: they are all free. They cost us no money. Therefore it would follow that we do not value them because they did not cost us anything (and believe me, many of us are treated like the precious little we cost). People don’t mistreat things they value. They protect and revere them. But they will mistreat things they would not have to pay to fix. Someone who would easily take a Sharpie to the back of a seat on public transit would be way less likely to practice their graffiti skills on their own new car.
But continuing with the thought of replacement, what if we went back to thinking about placing value on something according to how much it would cost to replace it. Yes, a shampoo bottle would cost less to replace than your beloved XBOX, but what would it cost to replace your son’s 3rd grade teacher?
The thought itself is harrowing. I would need childcare for an eight-year-old for 7 hours a day. I would need a private tutor in 7 subjects. I would need a special behaviorist to teach social skills. I would need a judge or mediator to resolve disputes. I would need a data analyst to evaluate the child’s growth and progress. I would need a gym membership and personal trainer. I would need—whoever teaches life skills…you get the picture…and the price tag. The average American teacher makes about $56,000 per year, a salary that has not changed much since the 80’s. (Thanks, National Center for Education Statistics!) Whether you think that is high or low, it is minuscule compared to the price tag we just aggregated for her services. Would a teacher be more valued if she was paid $560,000 a year? Would said teacher be more valued if you paid her $560,000 per year? You bet she would.
What would it cost if you did not have her? Probably the same amount it would cost you if you did not have the legal aid attorney who saved you from eviction. Or better yet, the police officer who kept the campus safe from a school shooting.
There is no quantifiable cost.
This makes us uncomfortable. We know these people are important, and we sort of know that they are undervalued. But we capitalists scratch our heads when we can’t put a dollar sign on things. So I think the best thing to do is to try. An eviction defense attorney on the private market…$350 an hour? A private security team patrolling a school…? Do the math, and then add on the sentimental value. My son’s life is way more valuable than jewelry to me, so I would likely pay that much more for private security.
Gather your numbers, and then treat folks accordingly.
For an additional challenge, also think about those you love whom you undervalue (here’s a hint—we undervalue everyone we love). It is trickier to quantify them. In fact, it’s very hard to see just how valuable they are to us until we don’t have them anymore. I lost Cat earlier this year to a sudden debilitating condition. I never understood how valuable she was to me until my first morning waking up without her. Cat acted a diva, soaked up attention, peed in my laundry, and repeatedly ruined my screen door. I often said, “It’s a cat. If it breaks, you buy a new one!” And yet the loss of her stung…badly…and still does. So I am grateful for her, and I value, now, that she woke up beside me for ten years. I value her memory and everything she taught me, because her place in my life and in my heart is priceless.