Joy Weisel grew up in a family that refused to accept the status quo.
“I was raised in an environment where, when you saw something wrong, you didn’t just go, ‘Oh, man, that’s wrong,’” she explains. “You did something about it.”
For Weisel’s parents, that meant working with the refugees who come to Idaho through the state’s resettlement program. They met while volunteering and together began tackling some of the basic needs of refugees trying to rebuild their lives after trauma, even turning their garage into a de facto used furniture store where refugees could shop for their new homes — for free.
“I guess that kind of informs a lot of why I became a teacher, too,” she said.
But Weisel isn’t just an educator. She is a natural organizer. As the co-president of the Caldwell Education Association, she helped recruit 47 new members in 2024 alone.
Her efforts have not gone unnoticed. Weisel will receive the Membership Recruiter Award at the Idaho Education Association Delegate Assembly in April.
“Her almost single-handed recruiting efforts have been instrumental in maintaining steady membership numbers despite the challenges posed by high turnover rates within the district,” RoJon Van Zelf, CEA co-president, wrote in Weisel’s nomination.
‘I Was Always the Teacher’
Growing up in Boise, Weisel explained, she had “three going on 3 million” siblings — three biological and the rest part of the extended group of families that Weisel’s parents surrounded themselves with.
“I’m the oldest daughter in a Middle Eastern family, so I was kind of always the boss,” she said. “I helped my little sister. I taught her how to read when she was a little kid, and I loved that feeling. I grew up playing schoolhouse a lot and I was always the teacher.”
Weisel was home schooled until seventh grade, when she persuaded her parents to let her attend public school. “My mom says I asked her because I really wanted to figure out what white people were like, because I really didn’t spend time with anyone that was a white American except for church on Sundays,” she said.
After one semester, Weisel’s best friends were Mexican, Aghani and Burmese. “She was like, ‘How did that work out, Joy?’” Weisel remembers her mom playfully teasing her.
Public school was a turning point in Weisel’s awareness. For one, she said, she is easily mistaken as white, but her siblings and many childhood friends are not.
“So I got tracked into a very different part of the education system than a lot of my friends and family did,” she said. “I heard the way that people in schools, including some of my educators, would speak about my community when I was in the room and they didn’t recognize who they were talking to.”
That stuck with her. So did her growing recognition of injustice. As her peers made the same mistakes that so many young people make, Weisel noticed that her non-white friends often received harsher punishments for the same infractions as their white counterparts.
“There were a lot of ways I saw our education system continually fail them, and fail to see that and fail to advocate for students that were not wealthy white kids,” she said.
The anger over what she was seeing was tempered by the support she received from perceptive educators who took an interest in her well-being. Weisel’s family experienced a string of difficulties while she attended public school. That, coupled with Weisel’s unfamiliarity with the public school system, could have left her behind.
But two educators recognized her strengths and went to bat for her. Boise Education Association member Julie Davis at Hillside Junior High in Boise approached Weisel about joining an advanced English class.
“I was getting used to being in a public school setting that was not a style of education I had been in previously, but she gave me a lot of grace and helped me out and gave me a chance,” she said.
By the time Weisel entered Boise High School, her personal life had become even more difficult. Over the course of the next few years, her anxiety skyrocketed.
Boise Education Association member Katy Shanafelt, Weisel’s yearbook and art teacher, was a stalwart supporter. “I literally had half my day in the same classroom with the same teacher who trusted me and really gave me a lot of freedoms,” Weisel said. “It was a space that I could just kind of be in, even when I was having a really crappy day.”
Weisel’s long-term solution was to “get the hell out of the state of Idaho” and study photojournalism at Western Washington University. But she soon realized working as a photojournalist would force her to merely document injustice rather than eradicate it. Instead, she began signing up for classes that interested her — “and they all ended up being education classes.”
During a social justice course, her instructor told the class that the goal wasn’t to get better and leave their communities, but to get better and go back to help. She saw the way social justice frameworks connected back to her own family and friends and wanted to take action.
“By the end of college, I was furious,” she said. “I was also 21 and entitled, and I could change the world — so, by golly, I was going to go home and put an end to it in my hometown.”
‘I Wasn’t the Only One’
Back in Idaho and working as a new educator, Weisel quickly discovered that her conviction alone wouldn’t be enough to change the system. At her first school, she spoke out against an educator who was physically punishing “bad” students.
“There is nothing that irks me more than watching someone actively be abusive,” she said. After witnessing an incident herself — one that involved a student Weisel had been trying to find additional supports for — she reported the educator.
“That was the moment I became a teacher who was actively going to support students, even if it meant that I was going to take some sacrifices to my own career,” she said. “And I did.”
Her stance proved unpopular among her colleagues, many of whom stopped speaking to her overnight — except her union rep, who helped Weisel hold the offending educator accountable.
“I guess that was my first interaction with our union in any way,” she said. “I remember feeling really supported, like someone recognized that I wasn’t the only one that thought it was wrong and was willing to do something about it.”
But by the time the pandemic hit later that year, Weisel was sure teaching wasn’t the right career path for her. She moved to Uganda with her partner right after the school year ended and stayed abroad for two years.
When her cash flow started trickling, she began teaching online. “I went, ‘Oh, man. I really actually miss this,’ ” she remembers thinking.
She moved back to the United States and got a job at Jefferson Middle School in Caldwell.
“I got more involved with our union then,” she said. “I did not at all think that this is where it would go, but I wanted to be involved in some way.”
She reluctantly agreed to a coffee meeting to learn more about the Growing Engaged Members (GEM) Program, an Idaho Education Association leadership effort that trains teams of motivated and respected educators to hold impactful one-on-one conversations with their colleagues.
Her quick coffee meeting lasted three hours. “I was pretty convinced by the end of that,” she said. “And now I’m here.”
‘Nobody is Disposable’
The GEM program proved another turning point. It matched up with Weisel’s idea of community: Many voices and opinions coming together, even when those voices disagree.
“My family has always made fun of the way people use the word ‘community,’” she said. “Because the way that we grew up in community, it meant that you showed up for people, even if you didn’t like them. You could have a big beef with a family, and people would be OK with letting you guys ignore each other … up until someone died or got really sick, and then you had to get over it and show up for each other.”
GEMs empowered her to approach organizing conversations in an authentic way that focused on finding solutions and bringing diverse voices into the mix. She also connected with GEMs from around the state and made deep friendships (Weisel will even officiate at the wedding of a fellow member she met through the program).
Her training came through when the repercussions of a failed levy reverberated through the Caldwell School District. “Just inside of our union, we lost 44 members due to them leaving the district,” she said.
As co-presidents, Weisel and Van Zelf put the focus on recruitment — not just during the traditional enrollment season, but throughout the year. Through one-on-one conversations and targeted efforts, CEA stabilized their numbers.
Just don’t ask Weisel to accept the credit. “I don’t know,” she says, audibly squirming a bit under the recognition. “I can see a way in which the way I committed to running our union created that. But it is by no means just me. I was not the one getting all 47 people. It was very much a team effort.”
Part of that team effort has been visibility, especially in the aftermath of the failed levy. “I think it’s harder to go through really big adjustment years when there’s no sense of control,” she said. “One thing that is really helpful is knowing who you can talk to when there’s a problem and who is willing to go to bat for things.”
CEA has put extra effort into communication, which has helped improve involvement. Weisel has noticed more members showing up for meetings.
“That’s the part I get most excited about,” she said. “They’re coming to the meetings, and a lot of them are not people that came last year. They’re coming, and they’re finding enough value in the union that they’re bringing other people. And that is amazing.”
Stronger involvement also helps the union pinpoint the issues affecting educators daily. Morale in the district is low, Weisel said, but solidarity is helping CEA members get through.
“This is a really hard year, and I’m not going to negate that for anyone — we are all really struggling and drinking out of the fire hose, but it’s not going to be like this forever,” she said. “And it’s also not going to get better if we don’t do something about it.”
Over the long term, Weisel hopes the transformation sweeping through CEA becomes permanent. Eventually, she said, she would like every educator in the district to believe union membership is a no-brainer. A proactive, responsive union will help every member feel empowered enough to make their voices and choices heard.
“The whole premise of a union is to better your workplace environment,” she said. “And that also means that nobody is disposable.”
Weisel’s Tips for Building a Stronger Local
Commit to in-person conversations. “You’ve got to go talk to people and see people,” Weisel said. “I really try to emphasize building relationships with people.” Communication tools like emails and flyers should be tools to foster those conversations, not the final word on a subject. “Even when I send out an email as co-president, the next day I’m talking to members in the building and asking if they received it, asking for feedback, or touching base with people whose values align with whatever issue that email was discussing,” she said.
Work those benefits. “I think the best way to build value in your union is to find value in your union,” Weisel said. CEA promotes the money-saving benefits of membership as well as professional development programs. “If there’s a deal or discount I can get, I’m going to be the one to ask for it,” she said — and to promote it to others. This is part of what makes being a union member not only attractive, but accessible.
Remember that people need community. However, benefits are not the only thing that give your union value. “Focusing on building relationships has really worked for us,” she said. “If we’re raising money for the Children’s Fund, it’s not just about raising money — it’s about supporting your community.” Weisel said that a critical part of value building is about “being around all the people who get what you do, about having people who can offer a safe space to vent.”
Look for the helpers. CEA identifies the educators who have great relationships with other educators, then targets them for leadership positions. “Sometimes, the people we are asking to do things are folks who have been in the district for more than 10 years, and they have really deep relationships and have been coming to meetings forever,” she said. “And sometimes they’re the folks who are new to the district, or to teaching in general, and who really want to be involved.”
