No one takes a saw to the beams of their home, cutting into its structure without knowing exactly how those changes will affect the soundness of the building. But that, in effect, is what Seattle Public Schools Superintendent Brent Jones is asking his board to approve.
Just two weeks ago, Jones, head of the state’s largest school district, presented two scenarios to close a $94 million hole in next year’s budget.
Option A: close 21 elementary and K-8 schools.
Option B: close 17 schools.
Total savings: $31 million, at most.
Even a fourth grader can see this equation still leaves a $63 million gap. According to the district’s own figures, that will likely mean staff layoffs, ever-larger class sizes, mandatory activity fees and the end of some programs. So, when Jones tries to sell his closure plans by insisting they will result in a system of “well-resourced schools,” there is little reason to believe him.
It’s anathema to make children pay for the financial lapses of adults. Yet here we are. One wonders if it’s all a ploy to manipulate horrified families into pressuring the Legislature for a bailout.
Either way, playing this game of chicken with education budgets is embarrassing, particularly in one of the wealthiest cities on the planet. Seattle’s national profile is no longer built primarily on tech innovation and newly minted millionaires, but dysfunction in its public schools.
“Opportunities are alive here in Seattle Public Schools,” Jones said limply at the first board meeting since his mass-closure plans were unveiled, the words drowned out by chanting from hundreds of parents who’d gathered outside to protest.
Even School Board President Liza Rankin has stopped playing nice, accusing Jones’ staff of “gaslighting” her by failing to provide information about the specific impact of closures on the 7,000 students who could be moved and the ripple effects districtwide.
That is an unconscionable lapse, and Rankin was right to call it out — however late in the game.
But if the tide is truly turning, away from the board rubber-stamping officials’ recommendations and toward a rigorous rethinking of what this district can be, parents should get the credit for making that happen. It’s high time to enlist them in solving SPS’ problems, rather than merely presenting pie charts.
There are, for example, several properties owned by the district that are not school buildings, such as the Oak Tree Village Shopping Center in North Seattle — could that be sold? What about moving administrative offices out of the John Stanford Center in Sodo, transplanting them into under-enrolled schools and selling district headquarters?
Each of these ideas and many more have been floated by SPS parents, with no substantive public discussion.
“When will you listen?” demanded Lisa Marie Rivera, a mother of four, standing at the lectern and addressing both Jones and the board. She was one among more than 100 people who had signed up to speak.
It looks like, finally, they are beginning to be heard.
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