Editor’s note: This commentary is by Rep. Oliver Olsen, who is an independent member of the Vermont House of Representatives, representing Jamaica, Londonderry, Stratton, Weston and Winhall. He is the parent of three small children.
[O]ver the next several years, Vermonters will have an opportunity to transform our education system to one that offers exceptional opportunities for all, at a cost we can afford. But meaningful change — the kind that actually moves us forward — will only come about if we are willing to challenge long-held assumptions and historic attachments, and commit to taking bold action. This will require difficult conversations and even more difficult decisions at the local level. It starts with leadership that encourages open and honest dialog about the challenges we face, and an exploration of alternatives, including those that may appear to be unpopular.
With or without Act 46, fiscal and demographic realities dictate that some Vermont schools will need to close, merge, or take on a new role over the next decade. As a percentage of Gross State Product, Vermont has the highest spending on K-12 education in the nation, yet we are an aging state (second oldest in the nation), and have seen a decline in student enrollment for two consecutive decades. Our spending is the result of high staff levels (payroll and benefits account for 80 percent of education spending) and relatively low levels of resource utilization in our education system (we have the lowest staff-to-student ratio in the nation). If we bury our head in the sand, and avoid the difficult conversations, we will continue to see rising property taxes and, in many communities, cuts in education programs. The sooner we acknowledge the challenge, the sooner we can turn it into an opportunity.
Act 46 is all about governance — it sets in motion a process that will lead to the merger of school districts and supervisory unions, with expanded districts that can more efficiently manage an end-to-end K-12 education system. By itself, the law does not force the closure or merger of schools, but we will be doing our state and its children a terrible disservice if we avoid consideration of school closures, mergers, and creative alternatives (including expanded school choice) within the context of discussions about new governance structures.
In many parts of Vermont, we can find examples where adjoining communities — each with their own school district — are struggling to provide even the most basic educational opportunities, while trying to restrain a growing property tax burden. With each school board trying to do the best it can for their own schools, they find themselves duplicating efforts at the most basic level, often at the expense of providing expanded educational opportunities. For example, two schools 10 miles apart may employ educators teaching half-empty Algebra I classes, but cannot afford to offer Advanced Placement Calculus.
By itself, the law does not force the closure or merger of schools, but we will be doing our state and its children a terrible disservice if we avoid consideration of school closures, mergers, and creative alternatives (including expanded school choice) within the context of discussions about new governance structures.
Increasing inefficiency and redundancy within our K-12 education system are gradually eroding the quality of educational opportunities that we offer our children; governance and finance systems have historically made it difficult — if not impossible — for us to confront this challenge in a rational manner.
All too often, we allow ourselves to get lost in what may be the most byzantine education funding formula ever developed. But if we set aside all the complex mechanics, the basic principle is actually pretty straightforward (whether we like the formula or not is an entirely different conversation): education tax rates are function of per-pupil spending. Under this paradigm, increased utilization of resources (e.g. larger class sizes) provides savings that can be returned to the taxpayer or used to fund additional programs (or a bit both). Looking back at the example above, if we have one Algebra I classroom filled to capacity with students from two communities, we free up one teacher who can offer the advanced placement courses that the two schools could previously not afford to do when they had redundant Algebra I programs.
This is not a zero sum game; every community should be looking at potential merger scenarios that ultimately fill empty desks and maximize the use of their education resources. If we start thinking about regional education delivery systems — and detach ourselves from the school buildings — we can fully realize the opportunity to transform our education system and provide exceptional opportunities for our students.
During a recent forum on Act 46, the chair of the House Education Committee shared the story of a high school valedictorian who did not meet the entrance requirements at UVM, because the student’s high school did not offer the classes that would have fulfilled UVM’s prerequisites. This is a shocking indictment of the state of affairs we have found ourselves in. It illustrates the very real problem we have with the narrow focus on keeping school buildings open at the expense of offering better educational opportunities for our children. And while we all pay for these decisions in our statewide education tax, the students pay a far greater price when they are held back from accessing the a full complement of programs.
Act 46 is far from perfect, and arguably its greatest strength may prove to be its greatest weakness. The law relies on local communities to make local decision about the future of education governance within their regions. But if local communities focus on consolidating governance alone — without any meaningful change to the delivery system — we will not see improved educational opportunities or reduced cost; the end result will do little more than average out increasingly burdensome tax rates. In the absence of a collective local response to our statewide challenge, fiscal pressure may force a top-down solution from Montpelier. We should all work to ensure that day never arrives.
As we enter the next election cycle, we can expect to hear from candidates of all stripes who will be spinning the political equivalent of perpetual motion: vague “solutions” that will provide more opportunities, keep schools open, retain staff, improve outcomes, strengthen “local control” — all while reducing our property tax burden. Our challenge is too great — and too important — to continue to perpetuate these false promises. The time has come to stop making excuses, stop pointing fingers, and to start changing this conversation.
Real change will require hard work, difficult decisions, and a willingness to be bold. Our children deserve no less.
