Austerity
This morning, I awoke to an article about how rural schools in Oklahoma are using four-day weeks to save money in their quickly evaporating budgets. (Washington Post article here.) The end of the article reads that many of these districts aren't even discussing the kinds of things that are best for kids; they're mostly just talking about what to cut next.
Every single year I've been a teacher, there has been some sort of a budgetary crisis. From enrollment shortfalls to rising healthcare costs, from the tension of teachers unions asking for raises where administrators have no raise to give to the urging some broke schools do for grants and fund money because they literally will never get the tools they need if they don't write them.
In every school I have taught in, the bottom line matters, probably more so than any business or corporation. In a way, it matters more to some than the students that make their way to us. No budget, no open doors. No classes, no lights, no heat, no meals at lunchtime. No buses, no trips, no college recommendation letters, no transcripts.
But that bottom line is getting harder and harder to balance. And the financial obligations schools have to pay are growing. But the number of bills they can pay with the income they bring in is becoming less and less. Eventually, this well will run dry for many schools. Schools can't borrow money or issue stock. Schools can't just save money for a rainy day. Schools can't pad a portfolio bearing interest. School can't do what companies do.
The wells are running dry. It is beginning to running dry for mine. And while schools are masters of austerity (in schools, we all know how to save money), they have not yet mastered the practice of extracting blood from stone.
--------------------
Teaching in Chelsea and Lawrence is a privilege teachers everywhere would see as lavish, maybe even excessive. For a week of work, a Sontag Prize winner earns more money than many teachers see in a full month. Teachers winning the prize earn the privilege of a weekend of professional development at Harvard, both from the Graduate School of Education and from the Business School. Participants are fed well (teachers can ALWAYS be enticed with free food), and are treated to a huge banquet at the end of the day, where they receive a plaque, an iPad, and a royal treatment. Teachers from far away school districts (like New York, Philadelphia, Miami, Washington DC, Indianapolis, and Los Angeles) are flown out and put up in nice hotels.
The hotels I've stayed in during Sontag functions have all been in Boston or close, during the weekend of the marathon. That does not come cheap. The rooms have always been exquisite. I've always been called 'Mr. Dudley' by those working the front desk. I get to stay within walking distance of a T stop, and Boston is a city with more amenities for visitors than you can name.
The Superintendent of Lawrence Public Schools treats us to an outstanding Italian dinner in the North End every year. I never have to order off the menu, but I'm encouraged to do so anyway. I even ordered off of the menu in Italian ("quelcosa alla grigliato, per favore" and "un altro bicchiere di vino"), and the waitstaff understood me.
It is almost literally a vacation. And it is all funded through gifts from private donors with more money than we can count.
-------------------
What is the difference in the product, you might ask?
First, let's be clear: education is a product as much as it is all of the interpersonal relationship building and caring for kids and nurturing a safe environment and all that. It is a product, and it has a value. For teachers to deny this is to live in stark ignorance: education is bought and sold. For parents to deny this is also ignorance: your children are a line item in a budget, and a price tag comes with every student (the per-pupil expenditure of your state government, plus whatever per-pupil expenditure comes from your town or city). Education and its funding mechanisms are commodity-driven, and in this way, our children are indeed reduced to commodity, if merely for the purposes of accounting.
Second: that means that you get what you pay for. Those who frame education as a product first cannot avoid this, a statement that seems to be a central tenet of business. Underfunded schools and districts underperform. Is this an accident? I think not. Schools that aren't funded well are more likely to hire novice teachers (and I know; I was one once, but I'll get to that in a minute), and less likely to support them (or any of their teachers) well. Districts with funding gaps based on property taxes are less likely to adhere to the reforms state and federal governments require. Schools with teachers that are overworked for the pay they receive, or that are understocked with the tools they need to do anything in a "21st century classroom" are less likely to be responsive to the insights of parents or to the needs of special learners. Pay for less, and the quality of the product is slowly compromised.
I think what those pulling the purse strings are afraid of is overpaying, which is why conservative governments set up an illusion of austerity in order to justify spending cuts, particularly to education. If we really cared about kids that much, we'd find the money. I've always been fed that line teaching in schools, particularly in public districts. We'll find the money. It's always somewhere. And most of the time, it's true. The money is there. We just need to be willing to spend it.
The difference in the product is easy to see. When comparing Sontag weeks to my ordinary instruction, I do better work. I'm not afraid to admit it. While I see that week as a chance to get away, I also see it as a chance to do the best work I've ever done, and while I pour my heart and soul into it, just like I do with every assignment I get, I tip my heart just a little bit higher and let the last drops eke out during that week. It is understood that Sontag Prize winners are supposed to kick ass at it, or they do not come back for another round. It is high stakes, without a doubt. Sontag teachers do not come back unless they produce.
I don't think teachers are afraid of that environment. For all we talk about high stakes testing, and high stakes schools, and high stakes accountability measures, the only atrophy I seem to see are teachers who are exhausted by it. I've never met a teacher that says they can't get results. I've only met teachers who are sick of being worked over for the results they know they can get.
-------------------
I've often imagined a thought experiment. What if every teacher walked off the job, just quit, and formed a market of sorts, setting their own price tag for their services, and then districts and municipalities had to recalibrate and choose in order to meet the market price for the product? The money would have to come from somewhere, because the increase would be precipitous. But no teachers means no schooling. I'm not suggesting merely a collective bargaining and strike process. I think our school unions are out of play on that front, and I've lost faith that school unions are out for the best interests of kids anyway. I'm suggesting that every teacher set a number, a price, suggesting what their time and effort is worth, and let the chips fall where they may.
I bet the number is closer to Sontag Prize earnings than it is to ordinary teacher earnings after everything equilibrates.
A returning Sontag Prize teacher earns $4,000, disregarding amenities. This translates to a yearly salary of $156,000, or $4,000 paid for every week of instruction up to 39 weeks. I know my ordinary compensation, adding up all contributions, tops out at $76,000 (no, I'm not afraid to post my pay, and yes, that represents an enormous pay cut, having moved from Massachusetts to Maine).
Suppose that, as teachers, we all said that our level best work comes in at a median cost of, say, $125,000 a year, forsaking geographical factors*, amenities**, and cost of living***. Let's say, also, that you're one of those taxpayers that will be footing the bill (in other words, you make enough money and own enough property for the taxes to affect you). Or, let's say you're a representative at the federal or state level (maybe Republican, maybe Democrat, maybe independent, who knows?) tasked with this vote: drastically increasing federal or state or local funding for education at a cost of things like defense (the single largest discretionary line item in the federal budget).
If you were in that position, and you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that your expenditure buys a better education for our kids, and a salary for teachers that is appropriate and market-driven, would you do it?
-------------------
When I was a new teacher, I was ecstatic to make $29,800 a year. I had great incentives: a $5,000 signing bonus, two free graduate classes a semester, and a mentorship program that provided me every support possible. There was every opportunity for me to get better and to be better.
I still wasn't worth it. I still was a pretty crappy teacher.
-------------------
*yes, I understand that teachers live in different places and consumer pricing is different on some levels. For the thought experiment, this manner of supposition suffices.
**yes, I also understand that teachers don't need huge banquets and stays in three- or four-star hotels. And no, I'm not calling health care coverage or short-term disability insurance or 403(b) contributions "amenities". Those are necessities, thank you very much.
***yes, I know that the markup on living is different in Maine than it is in Boston. I stopped caring about this argument a long time ago, because it's just an excuse to cut teacher pay. The product is the same, so let's treat it the same and fill it in with aid on the federal level. Rural districts need the money anyway, as evidenced by the WaPost article.
-------------------
austere (adj.):
Every single year I've been a teacher, there has been some sort of a budgetary crisis. From enrollment shortfalls to rising healthcare costs, from the tension of teachers unions asking for raises where administrators have no raise to give to the urging some broke schools do for grants and fund money because they literally will never get the tools they need if they don't write them.
In every school I have taught in, the bottom line matters, probably more so than any business or corporation. In a way, it matters more to some than the students that make their way to us. No budget, no open doors. No classes, no lights, no heat, no meals at lunchtime. No buses, no trips, no college recommendation letters, no transcripts.
But that bottom line is getting harder and harder to balance. And the financial obligations schools have to pay are growing. But the number of bills they can pay with the income they bring in is becoming less and less. Eventually, this well will run dry for many schools. Schools can't borrow money or issue stock. Schools can't just save money for a rainy day. Schools can't pad a portfolio bearing interest. School can't do what companies do.
The wells are running dry. It is beginning to running dry for mine. And while schools are masters of austerity (in schools, we all know how to save money), they have not yet mastered the practice of extracting blood from stone.
--------------------
Teaching in Chelsea and Lawrence is a privilege teachers everywhere would see as lavish, maybe even excessive. For a week of work, a Sontag Prize winner earns more money than many teachers see in a full month. Teachers winning the prize earn the privilege of a weekend of professional development at Harvard, both from the Graduate School of Education and from the Business School. Participants are fed well (teachers can ALWAYS be enticed with free food), and are treated to a huge banquet at the end of the day, where they receive a plaque, an iPad, and a royal treatment. Teachers from far away school districts (like New York, Philadelphia, Miami, Washington DC, Indianapolis, and Los Angeles) are flown out and put up in nice hotels.
The hotels I've stayed in during Sontag functions have all been in Boston or close, during the weekend of the marathon. That does not come cheap. The rooms have always been exquisite. I've always been called 'Mr. Dudley' by those working the front desk. I get to stay within walking distance of a T stop, and Boston is a city with more amenities for visitors than you can name.
The Superintendent of Lawrence Public Schools treats us to an outstanding Italian dinner in the North End every year. I never have to order off the menu, but I'm encouraged to do so anyway. I even ordered off of the menu in Italian ("quelcosa alla grigliato, per favore" and "un altro bicchiere di vino"), and the waitstaff understood me.
It is almost literally a vacation. And it is all funded through gifts from private donors with more money than we can count.
-------------------
What is the difference in the product, you might ask?
First, let's be clear: education is a product as much as it is all of the interpersonal relationship building and caring for kids and nurturing a safe environment and all that. It is a product, and it has a value. For teachers to deny this is to live in stark ignorance: education is bought and sold. For parents to deny this is also ignorance: your children are a line item in a budget, and a price tag comes with every student (the per-pupil expenditure of your state government, plus whatever per-pupil expenditure comes from your town or city). Education and its funding mechanisms are commodity-driven, and in this way, our children are indeed reduced to commodity, if merely for the purposes of accounting.
Second: that means that you get what you pay for. Those who frame education as a product first cannot avoid this, a statement that seems to be a central tenet of business. Underfunded schools and districts underperform. Is this an accident? I think not. Schools that aren't funded well are more likely to hire novice teachers (and I know; I was one once, but I'll get to that in a minute), and less likely to support them (or any of their teachers) well. Districts with funding gaps based on property taxes are less likely to adhere to the reforms state and federal governments require. Schools with teachers that are overworked for the pay they receive, or that are understocked with the tools they need to do anything in a "21st century classroom" are less likely to be responsive to the insights of parents or to the needs of special learners. Pay for less, and the quality of the product is slowly compromised.
I think what those pulling the purse strings are afraid of is overpaying, which is why conservative governments set up an illusion of austerity in order to justify spending cuts, particularly to education. If we really cared about kids that much, we'd find the money. I've always been fed that line teaching in schools, particularly in public districts. We'll find the money. It's always somewhere. And most of the time, it's true. The money is there. We just need to be willing to spend it.
The difference in the product is easy to see. When comparing Sontag weeks to my ordinary instruction, I do better work. I'm not afraid to admit it. While I see that week as a chance to get away, I also see it as a chance to do the best work I've ever done, and while I pour my heart and soul into it, just like I do with every assignment I get, I tip my heart just a little bit higher and let the last drops eke out during that week. It is understood that Sontag Prize winners are supposed to kick ass at it, or they do not come back for another round. It is high stakes, without a doubt. Sontag teachers do not come back unless they produce.
I don't think teachers are afraid of that environment. For all we talk about high stakes testing, and high stakes schools, and high stakes accountability measures, the only atrophy I seem to see are teachers who are exhausted by it. I've never met a teacher that says they can't get results. I've only met teachers who are sick of being worked over for the results they know they can get.
-------------------
I've often imagined a thought experiment. What if every teacher walked off the job, just quit, and formed a market of sorts, setting their own price tag for their services, and then districts and municipalities had to recalibrate and choose in order to meet the market price for the product? The money would have to come from somewhere, because the increase would be precipitous. But no teachers means no schooling. I'm not suggesting merely a collective bargaining and strike process. I think our school unions are out of play on that front, and I've lost faith that school unions are out for the best interests of kids anyway. I'm suggesting that every teacher set a number, a price, suggesting what their time and effort is worth, and let the chips fall where they may.
I bet the number is closer to Sontag Prize earnings than it is to ordinary teacher earnings after everything equilibrates.
A returning Sontag Prize teacher earns $4,000, disregarding amenities. This translates to a yearly salary of $156,000, or $4,000 paid for every week of instruction up to 39 weeks. I know my ordinary compensation, adding up all contributions, tops out at $76,000 (no, I'm not afraid to post my pay, and yes, that represents an enormous pay cut, having moved from Massachusetts to Maine).
Suppose that, as teachers, we all said that our level best work comes in at a median cost of, say, $125,000 a year, forsaking geographical factors*, amenities**, and cost of living***. Let's say, also, that you're one of those taxpayers that will be footing the bill (in other words, you make enough money and own enough property for the taxes to affect you). Or, let's say you're a representative at the federal or state level (maybe Republican, maybe Democrat, maybe independent, who knows?) tasked with this vote: drastically increasing federal or state or local funding for education at a cost of things like defense (the single largest discretionary line item in the federal budget).
If you were in that position, and you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that your expenditure buys a better education for our kids, and a salary for teachers that is appropriate and market-driven, would you do it?
-------------------
When I was a new teacher, I was ecstatic to make $29,800 a year. I had great incentives: a $5,000 signing bonus, two free graduate classes a semester, and a mentorship program that provided me every support possible. There was every opportunity for me to get better and to be better.
I still wasn't worth it. I still was a pretty crappy teacher.
-------------------
*yes, I understand that teachers live in different places and consumer pricing is different on some levels. For the thought experiment, this manner of supposition suffices.
**yes, I also understand that teachers don't need huge banquets and stays in three- or four-star hotels. And no, I'm not calling health care coverage or short-term disability insurance or 403(b) contributions "amenities". Those are necessities, thank you very much.
***yes, I know that the markup on living is different in Maine than it is in Boston. I stopped caring about this argument a long time ago, because it's just an excuse to cut teacher pay. The product is the same, so let's treat it the same and fill it in with aid on the federal level. Rural districts need the money anyway, as evidenced by the WaPost article.
-------------------
austere (adj.):
- severe or strict in manner, attitude, or appearance;
- (of living conditions or a way of life) having no comforts or luxuries; harsh or ascetic;
- having an extremely plain and simple style or appearance; unadorned;
- (of an economic policy or measure) designed to reduce a budget deficit, especially by cutting public expenditure.
from Latin austerus (severe).
Comments
Post a Comment