We Are the UFT
In a time when the world feels increasingly divided, this room felt united.
Before the program even began Saturday May 16th, you could already feel it. The ballroom was buzzing. Teachers were hugging retirees they had not seen in months. Paraprofessionals were taking group photos near the stage. People balanced coffee cups, tote bags, notebooks, raffle tickets, and years of shared history. Some educators had traveled in before sunrise. Others were still answering parent emails between sessions. A few were quietly grading papers during breaks.
Everyone looked tired in the way only educators understand.
But they also looked proud.
Very proud.
For a few hours, the noise of the outside world disappeared, and the people who keep New York City standing reminded each other why this work still matters.
The UFT Spring Conference became something much bigger than a conference.
It became a reminder of who educators are.
And what this union fights for.
From the very first speaker to the final standing ovation, the day was filled with energy, honesty, humor, emotion, and an overwhelming sense of unity.
Not performative unity.
Real unity.
The kind built through overcrowded classrooms, contract fights, changing curriculums, impossible expectations, COVID losses, long commutes, shrinking patience, rising costs, and still somehow finding the strength to return the next morning and do it all over again.
This was also a room filled with people who carried schools through a pandemic when the world felt like it was falling apart.
Still they show up.
Every single day.
Again and again throughout the conference, one message came through loud and clear: educators are carrying this city forward.
One of the most unforgettable moments came when UFT President Michael Mulgrew said:
“We are the protectors of our students’ hopes and dreams.”
You could feel the room pause.
Because every person there understood exactly what that meant.
Teachers know what it feels like to stay up late planning lessons that may completely change by first period. School nurses know what it means to comfort children carrying anxiety, fear, hunger, or trauma. Counselors know what it means to help students believe in themselves again. Paraprofessionals know what it means to quietly hold entire classrooms together with patience, care, and consistency.
The loudest cheers in the room often came when paraprofessionals were recognized, and rightly so.
Educators are somehow expected to be teachers, counselors, social workers, peacekeepers, planners, protectors, technology experts, and miracle workers before lunch even begins.
And still they show up.
That became the heartbeat of the entire conference.
Not politics.
Not headlines.
Children.
Their futures.
Their hopes.
Their dreams.
The conference celebrated enormous victories that UFT members helped make happen:
• Historic movement on class size
• The successful citywide cell phone ban
• Continued progress on Foundation Aid
• The growing fight to fix Tier 6
• Protection of pensions
• Increased support for teacher centers
• Advocacy for paraprofessionals and respect legislation
• Conversations about AI focused on helping educators instead of replacing them
And the AI conversations mattered.
Instead of fearing the future, the conference challenged educators to help shape it themselves.
That is what the UFT has always done. Adapt. Learn. Lead forward instead of retreating backward.
Speaker after speaker made it clear that none of these victories happened by accident.
They happened because educators organized.
Because union members refused to stay quiet.
Because people fought for public schools even when it was unpopular, exhausting, or difficult.
New York State Comptroller Thomas DiNapoli reminded attendees exactly why experience matters when he spoke about protecting pensions and retirement security:
“Your retirement security will be protected today and tomorrow for sure.”
That line mattered deeply in that room.
Because educators dedicate decades of their lives to this profession. They deserve dignity not only while working, but long after retirement.
And the retirees in that room were not looking backward.
They were still fighting forward.
Then Mark Levine walked onstage and instantly connected with the audience when he said:
“The hardest job I ever had was as a public school teacher.”
The applause came fast because everyone knew it was true.
Mark spoke about class size, school funding, pensions, and protecting public education, but one of the strongest moments came when he looked directly at educators and simply said:
“I absolutely believe you deserve a raise.”
No spin.
No polished political language.
Just recognition.
Real recognition.
Mulgrew later brought the audience through the history of the union itself, reminding everyone that before the UFT existed, educators had almost no workplace protections.
No voice.
No respect.
No meaningful rights.
He spoke about how educators once had to fight for something as basic as a duty-free lunch. How elementary school teachers fought simply for the ability to use the bathroom during the day.
People laughed, but underneath the laughter was an important truth: every right educators have today exists because someone before them organized and fought for it.
Then came another line that electrified the room:
“That is our superpower. We can move. We can figure it out.”
And honestly, that may be the best description of educators anyone has ever given.
Because teaching is adaptation.
Every lesson changes.
Every classroom changes.
Every child changes.
Teachers walk into classrooms every day knowing the lesson plan may fall apart by 9:03 AM, and somehow they still make learning happen anyway.
That is resilience.
That is professionalism.
That is love.
Then the room grew quieter.
One of the most emotional moments of the conference came when Christine Quinn received the John Dewey Award, the UFT’s highest honor, for her extraordinary advocacy for homeless families and children.
Her remarks left the room emotional as she spoke about children living in shelters who wake up worried about being late for school because school is the safest place in their lives.
Then she said something that perfectly captured what educators create every single day:
“You create an oasis for them.”
An oasis.
Not just instruction.
Not just a building.
A safe place.
A stable place.
A joyful place.
A place where children feel protected and seen.
Christine reminded everyone that homelessness is trauma, and schools are often the first place where children begin healing from that trauma. She spoke about children who have heard “no” from society over and over again, yet still run toward school every morning because educators make them feel valued there.
That moment stayed with people.
Because every educator in that room could picture a student they worried about.
A child they fed.
A child they encouraged.
A child they protected.
And throughout the conference, there was something else you could feel everywhere:
Gratitude.
Gratitude for retirees who paved the way.
Gratitude for school staff who work behind the scenes without recognition.
Gratitude for educators still standing after some of the hardest years public education has ever faced.
There was laughter too.
The kind of laughter only educators understand.
Jokes about parking.
Jokes about middle school students.
Jokes about lesson plans collapsing.
The kind of laughter that comes from survival.
But underneath every joke was love.
Love for students.
Love for schools.
Love for this union.
Near the end of the conference, Mulgrew brought the room together with one final chant:
“Who are we?”
And the room thundered back:
“We are the UFT!”
Not quietly.
Not politely.
Proudly.
The coffee cups were empty by then. The raffle tickets were crumpled in pockets. People looked exhausted again.
But nobody walked out of that room defeated.
And somehow, after everything, educators still believe tomorrow can be better than today.
Because for a few hours, louder than the politics, louder than the criticism, louder than the exhaustion, there was only pride.
Pride in public education.
Pride in unionism.
Pride in each other.
We are the UFT.
Still standing.
Still fighting.
Still believing in children.
-Just Ellie, Because sometimes the loudest thing left in the room…
is the purpose.