When the village is sick: schools in crisis

Rugged individualism is poisoning the well

image by Melanie Nead

Hello, Chosen Family,

This was supposed to be a different post, a fun one about energy and witches, or alchemizing anger. But if I’m to lead with heart and keep it real, I’ll be honest: grief is what’s rising to the top right now.

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As a public school teacher, I serve as a community barometer. My students pick up on vibes from outside school and dump them into the classroom.

They don't know they’re doing it; even if they did, they wouldn’t have language for it. However, girls practice languaging their feelings, comforting teary-eyed friends in the hall. By naming the vibes, they can contain them somewhat.

Boys, on the other hand, not so much. Their social code dictates they’re not allowed to show vulnerability or ask for help. Their interior monologue tells them to “suck it up.”

With little opportunity to suss out these wayward vibes, they grow inside like a tumor. Boys deflect their discomfort by roasting each other and pointing fingers. They call it “playing,” but in reality, it’s more like self-policing.

The tumor builds, and they ignore the pain. They ignore all pain. They push it away and numb and drink alcohol into their teenage and adult years, dealing with their pain alone, as the unspoken social code has taught them.

They become a dad, cop, lawyer, start a business, or run for office. They become legislators, or the governor of Alaska, voted in by people taught to deal with their shit privately. They’ve gone this long without help, so why should they pay a state income tax and watch their hard-earned money go to others? Why should they give up their permanent fund dividend (PFD) to pay for other people’s kids?

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On Tuesday, my eighth-grade boys kept being rude to each other and self-policing—deflect, deflect, deflect. Not having practiced putting words to feelings, they don’t know why they do this, but I have an idea why—

They’re terrified.

This town is facing a Big-Time, No-Good, Very Bad Educational Budget Crisis.

It’s gotten so bad that our school board voted to close and consolidate one out of two high schools and middle schools next year. Sixth grade will merge with elementary. (My fourth-grader is already in a class of thirty-two!) That could double the number of kids in each school.

Of course, my eighth-grade boys, taught to suck it up, are acting up because they’re terrified. A leashed dog is an aggressive dog. They know next year, they’re walking into a big, overcrowded shit sandwich. The classes and subjects they love—that make school worth going to—could be cut. And we haven’t even begun listing all the other existential crises these kids know they face.

Many of their parents are worried they will lose their jobs. At best, they don’t know where they will work next year. To add to the dumpster fire, many residents just received notice of a substantial increase to their property tax. You know that stress is filtering down to kids.

It takes a village to raise a child.

We knew this, and we knew it HARD when we lost the village during the pandemic.

We need you, teachers! We cried. We appreciate you! We love you!

Yet, we continued to knee-cap the village. Check out my post from five years ago:

Enrollment dropped during the pandemic, and funding followed suit. My kids’ schools lost teachers and subs, so I volunteered as their art and Spanish teacher. I helped in their classrooms and subbed for their teachers and colleagues.

As flat-funding made the budget worse, I wrote op-eds, testified, wrote letters, and emceed educational rallies.

Currently, I help teach math in my daughter’s class because student abilities are all over the place, ranging from first to seventh-grade level. (We can largely thank the pandemic for that, too.) Can you imagine teaching that kind of range?! The teacher’s job will only become harder next year with more cuts.

Me emceeing a rally for education funding on the steps of the State Capitol in Juneau, Alaska, January 2023

If the governor vetoes the small budget increase the legislature just passed, we’re still looking at $4 million in the hole, even with school closures. And if the past is prologue, the governor will veto it, and the Republicans will not override it.

The situation has gone from shit sandwich to a house of feral cats without a kitty litter.

Our governor says, “Why throw more money at schools if they’re failing? They will just fail more.” 

I want to throw water in his face and say, “COME INTO MY DAUGHTER’S CLASS! COME TO MY CLASS! WALK INTO A FUCKING CLASSROOM! The teachers are amazing! They are performing miracles! They are breaking bread among thousands and feeding all!”

Last week, the superintendent sent an email saying we might have to cut art, music, and more in addition to closing schools. All the things that students need most now. Things that can help them envision a better reality than this dystopian one they have been dealt.

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Teachers are not okay. The ones above water are on anti-depressants and in therapy. My boys are acting up. Our village is sick.

This is not just an Alaska problem. Schools around the country are suffering, a crisis that has been building since the seventies. This is caused by teacher turnover, stagnant salaries, unsafe buildings, increased educational inequality exacerbated by the pandemic, and underfunding education.

I blame Republicans. I blame the people who voted for this asshole. I blame a culture where the Lone Ranger is our myth and archetype, where football is our metaphor, where patriarchal norms dictate that boys must suck it up and deal without help.

We asked for this, Alaska, when we voted for our 💰 (PFDs) over the village. And don’t tell me we don’t have the resources. Alaska ranked #1 in fiscal stability last year and #6 in short-term fiscal stability this year.

Yet Alaska ranks 49th in education and 49th in High School Graduation. We are the only state without a teacher pension, and one out of five teachers leaves the profession. Teacher retention is linked to higher student achievement. It costs the state less than $6,000 to educate a kid in Alaska and approximately $65,000 to incarcerate an adult. Graduating more kids will reduce the prison population. 

We’ve let rugged individualism poison our waters and community. Until our culture learns that we don’t have to be the Lone Ranger, Superman, or John Wayne, always saving the world alone, our village will continue to be sick.

Let’s teach our children that it’s okay to ask for help. Let’s teach boys it’s okay to be vulnerable. Let’s put as much love and money into kids’ theater programs, which teach empathy, as we do sports.

By the way, since I started helping with math in my daughter’s classroom, she’s gone from remedial math to advanced. She no longer hides in the bathroom. The other students are coming along nicely, too. I love helping them; it’s a symbiotic relationship, like these fungi:

The mycena rosella lives on decaying wood and helps the rainforest by breaking down organic matter, thereby returning nutrients to the soil. Photo by Jessie Herman for Instagram.

Thanks for reading! 🍄

Summer

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