Philly Parents, Teachers Protest Budget Cuts

The forecast called for a storm, but the rally went on.

An aggregation of rougly 120 parents, teachers, and public officials girded themselves for inclement weather on Sunday afternoon and assembled behind the Trolley Car Diner in Northwest Philadelphia to protest the sharp cuts to public education Governor Tom Corbett's proposed budget prescribes.

Faced with a four billion dollar deficit for the fiscal year beginning July 1, Corbett has reduced Pennsylvania's public education funding to 2008-2009 levels—leaving the School District of Philadelphia with a $629 million deficit, $290 million of which would, according to the district's budget proposal, be cut directly from instructional spending.

Though Pennsylvania's congressional Republicans have countered with a proposal of their own that gives an additional $210 million to the state's public schools (and an additional $380 million to its public universities) the rally's organizer, Mt. Airy resident and Masterman parent Kevin Peter, said Philadelphia schools would see only a paltry increase in funding.

"For Philly, that new budget would only be an additional $20 million. It's a step in the right direction, but it would only be $20 million out of over $200 million."

Much of the spending would go to suburban districts that traditionally vote Republican.

"It gives the Republican house members a chance to say, 'Look, we're all for public education too,'" said Peter.

Under the Corbett budget, the district, in addition to cutting 3,820 jobs, would drop full-day kindergarten, eliminate all yellow bus and trans-pass service for students, and trim back after school programs, summer school programs, art and music programs, and athletics programs, among other cuts.

"Would" being the operative word. Corbett's budget is still sitting in the state legislature, and if the claque that gathered on Germantown Avenue on Sunday has their way, that's where it will stay.

Philadelphia School District chief financial officer Michael Masch was the first to address the claque. Masch lamented the timing of the cuts and argued that public schools in Philadelphia have been making enormous—if largely unnoticed—strides. But their progress, he cautioned, is fragile.

"Here in the city of Philadelphia, test scores have been rising the past eight years. We only had one kid out of five performing at grade level in math and reading five years ago, now we're up to 55 percent. We've gone from one in five to one in two," said Masch to cheers from the audience. "That's not good enough, but we're going in the right direction. More kids are succeeding in the public school system of Philadelphia than have in decades."

And many of the programs that have been integral to these successes would perish immediately under the Corbett budget. Due to state law, the district has to have a balanced budget—there is no option of running a temporary deficit to keep the programs afloat while the district scrambles for additional funding.

"So one of two things is going to happen in the next month," explained Masch. "Either the mayor and city council or the governor and state legislature are going to increase funding, or we're going to have to do the cuts we've talked about... We don't want to do it, but we do have to have a balanced budget."

Dr. Leroy Nunery, the Philadelphia School District's deputy superintendent, elaborated on the theme that under draconian budget cuts, education would suffer in a real, immediate way for many Philadelphia children. Doors of opportunity would close and history, he said, would repeat itself.

"My father grew up in the South when they closed schools for colored kids, and he couldn't achieve what he wanted to achieve," said Nunery. "And if he were standing here today, he'd tell you about how much opportunity he lost. Every time he reminds me of that—especially in recent days—I keep saying, 'Oh my god, history is gonna repeat itself.' We're gonna have the same thing where we close programs, where we shut doors, where we lay off people, and we say 'Hope you make out okay.' We can't have that."

The impact of these cuts, he added, would fall disproportionately on the shoulders of young Philadelphians. In his words, the rich would sacrifice a little, the poor a lot.

"And it doesn't make sense," said Nunery, "How can you talk about building a better economy when you're going to take away the resources necessary to do it?"

None of it makes any sense to Nancy Hyman, a retired kindergarten teacher who taught for 30 years at Cramp Elementary School. In Hyman's mind, the stakes in this debate are awfully high: she attended the rally with a homemade poster that read "Support Education, Preserve Democracy."

"Education must be the number one priority in a democracy. Without education, without an educated populace, their can be no democracy," she said, adding that she is especially incensed by the impending cuts to early childhood education.

"How can we cut early education? Every study they've ever done has shown that it improves the chances of success for the kids who are lucky enough to have it. When our kids fail in school, we hold the teachers accountable for their failure, but the politicians are the ones who are failing our children," said Hyman.

With election day on May 17, a few opportunistic politicians took the podium.

"We need to make our voices heard. We need to build alliances across the state to call back that money. I'm pleased to show my support and really to encourage you," said Howard Treatman, a Democratic candidate for the Eighth District Council.

Fellow Eighth District candidate Greg Paulmier suggested that Mayor Michael Nutter (D)—who was not in attendance despite earlier indications that he'd speak—pressure Philadelphia sports teams who have received public funding to pay it back to the city. At least, Paulmier suggested, Nutter should sell the luxury box he uses for Phillies and Eagles games.

Stephanie Singer, who is running as a Democrat for County Commissioner, admitted that if elected she would have no influence over school funding, but offered to the crowd a solution for disaffected citizens: voting.

"I want to turn Philadelphia into a city that votes. I want everyone to come out and vote and have it be part of being a Philadelphian—just like eating cheeseteaks and rooting for the Phillies," said Singer. "As long as you and your neighbors and the people of your city vote, the more your priorities, and your neighborhood priorities, and your city's priorities get attention from your elected officials. So go out there, vote on Tuesday, and we will make Harrisburg and City Council listen to all of us who support public schools."

Singer's speech, while a useful lesson in civics, left the crowd largely, and understandably, unmoved; the politicians who are most able to influence this budget—the governor and the state legislature—have already been voted into office.

According to Cook-Wissahickon Elementary School's Home and School parent's association head Cheryl Dore, the answer isn't to get new politicians, but to pressure the ones already in office.

"I'm calling on Harrisburg to make decisions that are right for our children," she said. "Reach out to your friends, get on the social networking sites, encourage everyone. We are doing our part. Write your representatives, write your senators, call your city councilman—Mayor Nutter where are you?—we've got to get everybody involved."

Shelly Yanoff, the executive director of advocacy group Public Citizens for Children and Youth, also spoke. She began, appositely given the mood, with a bit of gallows humor.

"Number one, the governor's budget proposed increasing prison expenses and cutting education. Now, we could say he's thinking ahead, right? If we don't educate our kids, how are they going to make a living? They're going to have to earn their way into prison."

Yanoff closed by pointing to a lodestar.

"Today is graduation day at the University of Pennsylvania. This week it was graduation day at Temple," she paused. "How are our kids going to get to college and graduation unless we prepare them early?"

It's the future of this preparation that concerns Anne Sydor. Sydor, a mother of three who has a child in Henry Houston Elementary School, fears her kids won't get a complete education if the proposed cuts go through.

"We're going to lose kindergarten. Kids who need special education or gifted programs aren't going to get that. My son says his class size is too big already. He doesn't want it to get any bigger."

Her son's second grade teacher at Houston, Judy Fink, stood next to her. Fink wore a red Philadelphia Federation of Teachers shirt.

"I've seen it all and it's never been this bad," said Fink, who's been teaching at Houston for 37 years. "It's very frustrating. The class size increases, and it affects education. Kids need that one-on-one time with their teachers."

Sydor said that, no matter how profoundly the budget cuts affect the quality of education available in the city's public schools, she isn't considering relocation. Though she understands the pull of the suburbs—where schools will also see a drop in funding from Harrisburg but with deeper pockets will, presumably, make fewer cuts to fundamental educational services—she says she's not going anywhere.

"I would never leave Philly," Sydor said. "Children who don't have as much as we do deserve just as much education as my kids deserve."

With so much still unresolved, the speakers and attendees shared a cautious optimism. They've resigned themselves to cuts, large ones even, but are hopeful the essential programs—early education, transportation, and special education—will survive.

"I'm not going to promise you that in this climate, in this country, we can roll back every penny of every cut that's been proposed," said Masch at the close of his speech. "But I am hopeful that when we finally adopt a budget for this school district, the cuts will not be as deep as they are now, and some of the things that we're talking about cutting will not have to be cut."

As for the storm that was forecasted, it stayed sunny and dry throughout the rally. An hour later, though, it poured.