You are currently browsing the monthly archive for April 2015.

Every time a local school issue appears on on the ballot, an army of district parents try to convince the general public that our children are “worth it,” that they “deserve” a publicly funded education. We share all their praise-worthy achievements and announce to everyone who will listen that our local kids placed third out of 37 teams at last weekend’s Robotics competition or that our middle schoolers hold a regional record for victories at the Power of the Pen, or that the Barbershoppers ranked first in the world last year at an a cappella competition. I write blog posts about how “nice” my boys’ peers are and drone on about how much science and math content they’ve learned.

But you know what? This isn’t necessary. Or it shouldn’t be. Of course our kids deserve a publicly funded education. All kids do. Free, appropriate public education is a cornerstone of our modern democracy and we cannot raise productive, engaged citizens without it. We cannot come close to claiming to be a land of opportunity if there is no opportunity.

Here’s the deal: Our local school district is asking for voter approval of a 5.9-mill operating levy in less than a week and I happen to be one of the chairs of that campaign. And I’m sick of trying to convince people that our community’s children, even those who are poor, even those who are black, even those who might seem disengaged or irresponsible, are worth their support and their tax dollars. In my opinion, that support should be automatic.

Let me explain a little about the wonder of House Bill 920. I know, a blog that covers childhood cancer and now the nuances of school funding in Ohio . . . what a way to build a following! But bear with me a bit because it’s actually fascinating, in a hard-to-believe-that-could-possibly-be-true kind of way.

In 1976, at the height of rising inflation, the Ohio General Assembly passed HB920, which froze all tax revenue going to schools (and public libraries, but not city or county governments) at their 1976 levels. Not at a percentage or a rate, but at the actual dollar amount. The only way to increase that incrementally is with voter approval of new operating levies. I don’t think anyone can reasonably expect any district anywhere to provide an education in 2015 with the same amount of money they had in 1976.

But even when levies are passed, the need for additional levies never goes away. The state has cut $2 million in funding to our district in the past few years, not to mention what we lose due to foreclosures or reduced collections on property taxes, or the nearly $1 million going from our district’s budget to charter schools this year (including those that are completely disreputable and only out to make a profit) and more money still to fund vouchers. What all this means is that the district has LESS money with which to operate than it did when our community passed the last operating levy in 2011.

The money this levy would generate wouldn’t lead to raises (aside from agreed-upon step increases for teachers) or anything new; it would simply allow us to maintain. Because districts are legally required to balance their budgets, ours would have to cut $6 million if the levy doesn’t pass. That would undoubtedly impact every aspect of the district, from classroom teachers and programming to administration. That’s not an empty threat as a campaign tactic; it’s our duty and responsibility to tell people honestly what will happen if this fails. Another sad truth is that if this fails, the need for money will not go away and the district will have to come back again and ask for approval of a new levy. Again, not a threat, but a fact.

There has been much talk lately about administrative costs and I truly hope people will read this section carefully because it’s important that we all understand what we’re talking about when we say those words. The Ohio Department of Education requires districts to categorize all certified staff who don’t provide direct classroom instruction to students as “administrators.” This means that the salaries of our social workers, counselors and psychologists all fall under “administrative costs.” Do we spend more than most in this area? Yes, because we are doing an excellent job meeting the varied and complex needs of our largely impoverished student body. In addition to the “typical” social and emotional issues social workers help students with, ours also ensure that our district’s homeless students have daily transportation from their temporary shelters to their home school buildings. Or that the child who can’t see the board but can’t afford glasses gets in touch with the right agency who can provide them. Or that our young mothers access the services they need to stay in school and graduate.

The counselor in my sons’ elementary school hosts a lunchtime book group for students struggling with social issues. She organizes the Girls on the Run program for our 3rd through 5th grade girls who need both extra physical activity and a way to build self-confidence. She manages the Peer Mediators who help find peaceful resolutions to conflicts during recess. She attends every single IEP meeting for the many students in our building with special physical, emotional or learning needs and is constantly working directly with students, either individually or in small groups, all day every day and often well into the evening. Our social workers and counselors work tirelessly to ensure that all students and their families have access to shelter, food, electricity, running water, medical care and clothing so they can come to school ready to learn. This is not what you may envision when you hear the word “administrator.” They’re not sitting in some fancy corner office with their feet up on a desk (not that our actual administrators are doing that either, of course!).

Another piece of the administrative costs puzzle requires just a quick explanation: For the last year for which the ODE published data, our district’s teachers asked that their salaries be spread out over twelve months instead of the usual ten, but those final two months happened to be in the next fiscal year. This was a one-time recording issue, but it makes it look like the district spent one-sixth less on instruction than it actually did.

The other complaint that we frequently hear is that our taxes are too high (even when they’re offset by affordable housing). It helps to understand some of the historic reasons behind our local tax structure. The very things that make our community special also mean that we pay more in property taxes. Years ago, residents fought against the construction of freeway exits both where the Shaker Lakes Nature Center now sits and where the Cedar Lee Theater is. I’m glad to not live near a freeway (except when I need to get to one, of course!) or the industrial parks and chain restaurants that inevitably pop up around them. I’m glad to live in a neighborhood that values its small, independently owned businesses and green spaces. But, without a large commercial or industrial tax base, a heavier burden is placed on the shoulders of individual homeowners. This is unfortunate, but it’s also reality. We must keep our community strong and we can’t do that without strong schools. And strong schools require basic operating funds.

Please join me on Tuesday, May 5th in voting FOR our children, our schools and our community.

There’s something about your own kid growing up that makes it feel unique to you, as if no one else has ever had the surreal experience of watching their child — the one they’d rocked to sleep and pushed on a swing — suddenly morph into a tween or a teen or (horror of horrors) an actual adult.

I’m feeling that way with Braedan right now, as we look ahead to his 5th grade promotion ceremony, a mere six weeks away. From this little critter, so eager to walk to his first day of kindergarten . . .

First day

September 2009

. . . to the mature and confident (and sports and tech-obsessed) eleven-year old he’s become.

I am so glad he’s spent this six-year journey of growth and discovery at Fairfax School. I’m one of those parents who doesn’t actually think you should shop around for schools. Might sounds strange coming from a former teacher, in a world where all good parents search through every possible option to pick the very best for each individual child. I had fleeting moments of guilt, in those early days, for not putting more effort or thought into it. But I tend to think, unless something’s seriously wrong, you just attend your local neighborhood public school and take what comes. That’s what most parents did in my day. All the kids on the block, with the exception of a few Catholic families, simply went to their public school.

Now there are state rankings and test scores and data to pour over, tours and interviews and “educational philosophies” to consider. Like so much of modern parenting, picking a school for a five-year old requires an advanced degree. And causes undue stress, because no option out there is ever going to be perfect and yet our kids will still be okay.

In our case, we signed Braedan up for the one we could walk down the street to and that was that. He hasn’t always been thrilled with school, he had one year in particular that was less than stellar. But it helped him grow, it taught him he could be resilient and thrive in any environment. And taken as a whole, especially from this reminiscent vantage point, Braedan’s elementary experience has been wonderful. He’s had teachers he loves who he knows love him back. He’s learned an extraordinary amount (way more than I learned when I was a student in the same building). He’s had the chance to enroll in after-school activities that range from drama and racquetball to cycling and skiing. He’s done things few elementary kids have the opportunity to do, like sing on the stage at Severance Hall or spend three nights in the Cuyahoga Valley with his classmates exploring the great outdoors.

IMG_4774

IMG_5339

11026099_10153625737961679_2878403705758182280_o

And his friends. Well, being that he’s a very social creature (understatement), his friends have been the highlight of it all. And he is friends with everybody. Especially this year, with his grade so deeply connected by their role as building leaders and their shared history, I can think of very very few children he wouldn’t call friends.

1397257_10153263385311679_3869276813290572525_o

I’ve watched him rally his schoolmates around causes he believes in, like Purple for Becca Day or St. Baldrick’s. In kindergarten he was the lone shavee in that building. By second grade, he had a few friends alongside him. This year. . . take a look.

FullSizeRender(19)

More than anything else, I’m so happy that he and Austin both attend school in a building and in a district where there is such a high premium on nice. That’s the biggest difference I see between the Heights schools I attended in the 70s and 80s and the Heights schools of today (I guess Heights has changed, after all). I don’t think we were particularly cruel or anything, but we were much more concerned with being cool than with being nice, even by 5th grade. Kindness and tolerance and acceptance are now celebrated and honored from kindergarten through 12th grade. Of course, this isn’t the case for every single child every single day across the board (they are human). But when I hear from parents who’ve moved their kids from local private and parochial schools into Heights schools (and especially into Heights High), one of the things they rave about the most is how nice their children’s peers are.

I’m so proud of Braedan for all he’s accomplished in his first six years of schooling. And I’m so excited for all the incredible opportunities that lie before him as he moves into Roxboro and eventually Heights.

But I still can’t believe that this little LeBraedan is actually growing up . . .

10401153_37530721678_2862_n

April 2015
M T W T F S S
« Mar   May »
 12345
6789101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
27282930  

Archives

April 2015
M T W T F S S
« Mar   May »
 12345
6789101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
27282930