Let’s be blunt: In much of Pennsylvania, the loss of 18.5 school-district jobs — especially through attrition — would hardly be news.
Statewide, the population base has been relatively stagnant for the better part of 30 years. In many Pennsylvania towns, the slow erosion of public services is the norm, not the exception.
But here in State College, it’s a very big deal. This whole idea of streamlining, scaling back and consolidating — it just isn’t in our collective DNA.
Consider the numbers. From 1970 to 2000, the population in the State College metropolitan area exploded from roughly 100,000 to about 140,000, according to U.S. Census data. Likewise, student enrollment at Penn State’s University Park campus swelled from about 26,000 to nearly 41,000 in the same period, and it’s now closer to 44,000.
Growing up here in the ’80s and ’90s, I, like so many other public-school kids, was taught that I attended school in a world-class district — a term coined by a former superintendent. Greatness was our thing, and expectations of greatness were never far from our immediate consciousness. It was a little like being from Lake Wobegon, where, as Garrison Keillor tells us, all children are above average.
And part of that State College greatness, of course, was bigness: big schools, big gyms, a big pool, big test scores, a big group of wonderful teachers and staff members who made it all tick.
We attended the State College Area School District, and that, in itself, was a lot to be proud of.
Scale back? Get smaller? Streamline? I’m not sure we could have even wrapped our heads around the concept.
But the school district these days has little choice. Confronted with new economic realities, the stark and uncomfortable circumstances of a new era, the State College school board is navigating uncharted waters.
Uncharted for this town, at least.
Board members have agreed to raise taxes no more than three percent for the 2010-2011 year. And that means, in all likelihood, that the equivalent of 18.5 full-time positions will go unfilled in the coming school year. Some details of those attrition-driven cuts are expected to emerge at the school-board meeting scheduled for Monday night. Superintendent Richard Mextorf has said that some employees may be asked to take new on duties as part of the changes.
Meanwhile, late-activity buses are likely to be reduced in number, teenage drivers are likely to start paying a $50 fee for in-car lessons, and staffers’ individual coffee pots and refrigerators will soon be unplugged — all casualties of a slimmer budget. The school board is working on other cost-saving measures, too.
Morale among faculty and staff members is taking a hit, especially as board members readily concede that future budgets probably won’t improve any time soon.
Really, we — we as a community — just aren’t conditioned for this. Cutbacks are things we have read about in other places, not at home.
It’s hard to imagine any serious alternatives, though. Understandably, school-board members are loathe to run up tax rates, particularly while the economy continues to wobble from a recession.
And while we are being blunt here, it’s worth remembering that State College remains richly fortunate, a blessed anomaly even in times of distress.
Consider: In New Jersey, as many as 10,000 school jobs may be lost soon under substantial cutbacks supported by the governor there, Chris Christie, according to the National Education Association. Some 130 staffers could be laid off in a single district, Bridgeton, Gannett New Jersey reported over the weekend. (Full disclosure: I formerly worked for Gannett.)
Even in Pennsylvania, about 1,000 school jobs statewide may be lost to layoffs this year, according to an NEA estimate. The City of Harrisburg alone could soon lose one of every six school employees, the Patriot-News has reported.
Which isn’t to suggest that we in State College should find comfort in others’ misery. Not at all.
I think the broader context can help us to find some perspective, however.
After all, the State College Area School District employs some 1,400 people. Losing 18.5 positions to attrition will mean a workforce reduction of about 1.3 percent — and no layoffs.
It’s not pretty; it’s not happy; it’s not what anybody wants to see. And for the workers who will directly shoulder a heavier workload, it may be downright unpleasant.
But let’s be blunt: This is our new reality.
And our greatness rests not so much in our numbers as it does in our spirit, our commitment, our passion.
Oh, and at least we’re not in New Jersey.
