Schools are asking parents for that, and even more, to pay for basics like salaries and supplies, drawing deeper divisions between the haves and have-nots
“In Minnesota, who owes the tax bill for education has been the subject of continual discussion during the past 20 years,” says Dr. Bill Smith, principal of Southwest High School in Minneapolis.
Deciding who pays is like a game of hot potato. All 50 state constitutions mandate appropriations for basic education and federal funding is typically just 5–6 percent of a school’s revenue. While local property taxes have increased during the past decade’s housing boom, voters are still asked regularly to approve levies for basic operating expenses. These generally pick up some of the difference but struggle to keep pace with rising needs.
Add to that another factor, currently small but growing in importance: private fundraising, organized and conducted by parents and other volunteers. As taxpayers balk at rising property taxes and state legislators make tough choices among the needs of students, seniors, transportation, and tax relief, public school parents are pitching in from their own pockets to pay for school basics like teachers, textbooks, toilet paper, and technology.
Who pays?
Early in the nation’s history, Smith explains, private funding often came for public schools in the form of free-will offerings taken up by churches that would build a one-room schoolhouse and hire the schoolmarm. Later, local governments began to assess taxes, so school funding shifted to taxpayers — but schools were still funded very close to home.
As the population boomed in the postwar years, as the suburbs grew and wealth became more dispersed, the equation shifted. Households without public school kids may or may not see education funding as their responsibility. He and others would like to change that perception.
“I firmly believe we’re the product of yesterday,” Smith says. “Understanding helps take the edge off [the bite of the tax bill]. But I don’t see this changing quickly.”
If you think of a school’s budget like a cake, you could say that extra funds sometimes pay for the flour, other times the frosting. In Orono and at Minneapolis Southwest High School, for example, parent-led groups have raised money to add sections of popular or required classes, keep teaching positions, and pay for textbooks — the flour. In Roseville, an independent foundation dedicated to education funds grant proposals from teachers or others for innovative or extracurricular materials or activities — the frosting.
Counting on parents
Not surprisingly, well-heeled communities are better equipped to find extra financial help from their own parent and local communities.
You might think that in tony Orono, parents wouldn’t worry much about their school system, but you’d be wrong. In 2000, schools all across the state faced severe budget cuts due to cuts in state funding. Orono was no exception. Parents wanted to avoid the proposal to cut teacher positions in order to balance the school district budget.
“The community rallied around that concern,” said Barry Knight, co-president of the Orono Alliance for Education, a nonprofit organization that was born of that effort. The group studied what had worked in schools districts in California, Oregon, Washington, and New Mexico, explained Martha Van de Ven, a longtime school board member. “We were able to secure some of those teaching positions that otherwise would have been cut. [To date,] we have preserved somewhere around 27 teaching positions.” Today, the Orono Alliance for Education raises about $500,000 a year through its annual fundraising efforts, which include a social event, silent auction, and personal contact with potential donors. Alliance-raised funds “have been very important to our budget,” said Orono Superintendent of Schools Karen Orcutt. “We use the base assumption we will be getting a grant on a yearly basis.”
Similarly, while Bill Smith says he doesn’t rely on parent fundraisers to make the yearly budget, “We do anticipate the need and the support” from Southwest’s Quality Education Campaign (QEC). He is an advocate of the classic “pyramid” model of raising money from a wide base of small donations, a middle ground of larger donations, and a tip of significant contributions. Though Southwest parents raised $218,000 last year, the average contribution to the annual campaign is a modest $218.
Since its 2003 inception, that group’s main vehicle is a series of dual-purpose house parties intended to build community among parents and persuade partygoers to pledge donations. Smith attends every one, giving a pep talk praising the students he works with and thanking parents for their support. QEC funds have helped remodel the auditorium; buy textbooks; add sections of core classes including math, English, science, and social studies; fund part of a counseling position; and purchase desks. This year’s target is $225,000. (Disclosure: I am a Southwest parent and have served on the Quality Education Campaign committee.)
Beyond parents
Other schools can’t sustain that level of support from within, even though the need is great. Carol Markham-Cousins, principal at Washburn High School in Minneapolis, says private funding is not a critical part of her annual budget “because there is none.” The school serves a diverse population including many English language learners from immigrant and refugee families. About 65 percent of Washburn students are eligible for free or reduced cost lunch.
It’s pretty obvious Washburn’s demographics don’t point to deep pockets. Besides, Markham-Cousins believes asking parents to give money “sets up divisions” between “who can give, and who has a voice, and who doesn’t give. That is difficult for me because this is public education. I struggle with the idea of having any kind of fundraisers.”
Frustrated by lack of adequate federal and state education funding, Markham-Cousins would seek outside funding from grants and other community sources if she had time to cultivate them. She’s been swamped with the demands of the school’s Fresh Start status, which means she’s had to handle heavy personnel and parent concerns about staffing and curriculum changes. (The Minneapolis School Board slated Washburn and Edison High Schools as “Fresh Start” schools and assigned new principals empowered to make substantial staffing changes outside of the normal teachers’ contract hiring rules, for a transition period. The idea is to boost school performance.) Besides, she would prefer to be seen as an instructional leader and spend time in the classroom “instead of worrying about being a CEO of a company or a CFO.”
For now she relies on proxies: The Washburn Alumni Association donates about $6,000 a year. A joint fundraiser was held with a group of Southwest Minneapolis parents from Burroughs Elementary and Anthony Middle schools. Such efforts help teachers to buy supplies and have funded a leadership-development program for 9th-graders offered by the widely respected Youth Frontiers organization.
Markham-Cousins would love to hire a grant writer: “We have asked alumni to get a paid person to help with an alumni foundation, to look at leveraging alumni from Washburn — to get them to understand and buy into this 21st-century school we have that is different than the one they went to.” Indeed, persuading taxpayers and citizens that investing in education benefits everyone — even those without public school kids — is exactly the tough sell that all principals and districts face. But in some districts, it’s a little easier to do that.
Funding innovation
The St. Paul suburb of Roseville has successfully engaged its business community as well as parents in supporting its schools. The Roseville Area Schools Foundation conducts an annual appeal and holds several fundraising events sponsored by local businesses or hosted by parent groups. Its board awards grants to teachers who submit proposals for new or innovative projects or products they’ll use to enhance learning.
For example, the foundation funded one teacher’s proposal to purchase a SMART Board — a brand of high-tech interactive white board — for the classroom. After a year, the teacher proved its instructional value and leveraged that pilot into a $100,000 outside grant to purchase more.
“We have raised more money in the last four to five years and have given more in the last four to five years than ever before,” Roseville Area Schools Foundation President Gregg Cummings, who isn’t a parent but is a loyal alumnus. For example, the $92,000 in requests made in the last grant cycle far exceeded the $21,000 in available funds. The district helps those turned down to find other sources and even offered a grant-writing workshop for staff last year.
Advocates agree that asking parents and others to write checks isn’t enough. They believe in holding legislators accountable for providing adequate funding for all schools. “I am upset Minnesota has dropped substantially in funding of public schools,” says Van de Ven. “That is why we constantly beat the drum to the legislators, to say, ‘We are lucky, but we have a responsibility to provide for all kids in the state.’” Banding together with other districts is strategic, she adds, especially as the natural education interest group — households with school-age kids — decreases. Orono, Roseville, and Minneapolis are among 28 K–12 metro area districts belonging to the Association of Metropolitan School Districts, which leverages the common interests of its urban and suburban members to lobby on behalf of public education.
“As a community, we have to meet, and, I would argue, exceed the basic needs of education for the future success of our country,” said Orono’s Barry Knight. It seems self-evident that “you want vibrant schools turning out responsible, well-educated kids able to compete in a global economy. And if we fail at that, we fail at our competitive position in the world, ultimately. For me, education has to a strategic initiative of the state.
“I’m known for saying: ‘After love and self-esteem, a great education is the best gift we give to our kids.’ I don’t see any sparing of expense in that area.”
Kris Berggren is a Minneapolis writer.
