Open letter to the Members of the Greenwich Board of Education and Superintendent Dr. Toni Jones submitted by Amy Whitehouse, GHS Class of 1997 and a Proud daughter of a Media Assistant
I’m writing not just as a concerned community member, but as the daughter of a woman who has given nearly 50 years of her life—half a century—to Greenwich Public Schools. My mother is one of the Media Assistants whose jobs you’ve now deemed expendable.
Let me be perfectly clear: this decision is not just disappointing. It’s disgraceful—and a slap in the face to her and to every Media Assistant who has poured their heart and soul into supporting students, teachers, and the integrity of public education.
My mother has shown up for your schools, your students, your teachers, and your community for nearly five decades. She has dedicated her life to making school libraries safe, welcoming, and enriching spaces for everyone who walks through their doors. She has supported countless teachers, fostered generations of readers, and helped build the foundation for a love of learning that extends far beyond the classroom.
She was named a Difference Maker by the Superintendent and received an award from the town in 2013 for her outstanding service. And now—after giving nearly every day of her working life to this district—she’s being told she’s no longer needed? That her decades of experience can be replaced by volunteers?
This proposal isn’t just short-sighted. It is insulting. It is dehumanizing. And it is flat-out wrong.
She hasn’t just shelved books. She’s built relationships, supported instruction, guided research, organized events, and created joyful learning spaces that made the library a true haven for generations of students. And now she’s being told none of that matters?
Media Assistants are not filler staff. They are professionals who manage resources, support instruction, and offer continuity and care in one of the few school spaces where every child—regardless of their academic ability, background, or behavior—is welcome. The library is often the one place a struggling student can feel successful. My mother made that feeling possible for thousands of children.
And yet your response to that kind of loyalty and service is to toss her aside as if she never mattered.
What kind of message does that send—not just to her, but to every staff member still working in your district? That no matter how hard you work, how long you stay, how deeply you care, your job can disappear with the next budget cycle?
You’re not just cutting a position. You’re cutting off the people who hold schools together behind the scenes—who create magic with limited resources, who make space for struggling kids, and who offer consistency in a world that’s anything but consistent.
Though I no longer live in Greenwich, I’m a proud graduate of this school system—and an even prouder daughter. I’ve volunteered beside my mother on Read Across America Days (an event she organized at her school each year), run summer reading programs (complete with bookmarks she made by hand for the kids to take home), and seen her spark excitement and confidence in young readers. I grew up in school libraries that felt like home—not because of what was on the shelves, but because of who was behind the desk. The people—the ones who showed up every day to make students feel seen, safe, and curious. People like my mom. I know what she’s given this district. And I know she’s not the only one.
The suggestion of cutting this position and replacing her work with a volunteer dismisses years of training, experience, and deep-rooted knowledge of school operations and student needs. It reduces a vital educational support system to something optional—and that’s a dangerous message to send.
We are living in a time when access to accurate information, literacy, and safe learning environments is more critical than ever. And yet, your decision to eliminate Media Assistants strips away one of the few spaces in a school where every student—regardless of ability, background, or behavior—has equal access to opportunity and support.
You are cutting positions that serve as the emotional and intellectual lifeblood of a school—and you’re doing it with the kind of cold detachment that makes people lose faith in leadership altogether.
This is more than a staffing decision. It’s a betrayal of loyalty, legacy, and the people who’ve shown up for your schools long before most of you sat on this board. My mother, and every other Media Assistant facing this cut, deserves more than a quiet dismissal. She deserves respect. She deserves gratitude. And she deserves her job.
I urge you to reverse this decision. Not just for my mother, but for every Media Assistant who has kept your libraries—and your schools—running with far too little recognition for far too long. Show your community, your students, and your educators that Greenwich still knows how to value the people who built it.
Sincerely,
Amy Whitehouse, GHS Class of 1997 and a Proud daughter of a Media Assistant