It is a perfect irony that this year’s high school production is Beauty and the Beast. I saw a preview and it was spectacular. The sets, costumes, pit orchestra, lighting and everything else that contributed to this bit of magic were top notch. Seemed as though they did not cut corners on any part of it. There was an extended stage, excellent sound equipment and yards of gorgeous velvet red curtain. This school was able to provide everything the parents of these young, talented people could ever wish for.
As I was watching these beautiful kids performing a part of their lives they will never forget, I began to get angry. It was an extremely uncomfortable feeling to be watching the best after hearing the worst the day before. The day before I found out about some of the repercussions of this year’s budget. While the candlestick was talking and the teapot singing I was sitting there thinking about how we could possibly work things so we wouldn’t have to lose any staff members, or have to split specialists who find themselves alternating schools, work spaces and student bodies every other day.
As I saw this self-confident cast and crew doing what they love, I looked down the row at my students. There was one who goes to a reading assistant daily for much needed one on one instruction. There was another student who will no doubt qualify for special education next year. I wondered if all the work to diagnose him will be worth it if he only ends up in a program with staff stretched and conscientiously trying to provide what they could before budget cuts began.
The singing just flowed over the filled auditorium. I can only imagine the amount of rehearsal time it took. Many extra hours go into preparing for a production like this. Gallons of paint are purchased to be spread on sets long into the evening. The professionally made costumes must have racked up hours of precision work. I actually found myself distracted by thought, wondering how much extra pay the staff members got to work on this thing and trying to figure out if added up, it would maybe cover the cost of kindergarten aides or a full time reading specialist for the five kids I know will need one next year.
The beauty in experiencing our children performing Beauty and the Beast was somewhat offset by the beast of the upcoming budget. What do we cut? Do we cut teachers and leave those who remain with higher class sizes? Do we cut assistants we have depended on to provide the precious extra teaching time some children require to feel even part of the success the cast must have felt at performance end. Do we cut art, music, p.e. or do we spread them out so thinly that their curricula represents only a best case scenario version to which we can aspire, but they become the commandments known but not practical.
Teachers, parents and administrators love tradition if their schools have histories of excellence. Traditions feel safe and reliable. Cherished or habitually continued events like this cushion the falls that other changes create. Once there was a tradition of opportunity and budgets for all kinds of stuff: gifted and talented teachers with assistants, full time reading specialists in each building, full time art instruction, science lab teachers, and unlocked supply cabinets. None of this exists anymore. We need to look at the situation we really have, and not kid ourselves into assuming we can keep things the way they always were. We have to reevaluate and then adjust our goals accordingly. There will have to be fewer of them, that part is clear. While standards shouldn‘t be lowered, the number of things going on will have to.
I am impressed by the achievements of the students in this production. I know where they learned all of this. I know they got their start in the elementary schools, where music lessons are free of charge given by top rate teacher/musicians no matter the socio economic status of the families.
Enter stage left GRIM REAPER holding budget and scissors
The complete feeling of joy and pride I feel as I watch these young people has been contaminated this year, sabotaged by this recurring metaphorical question; What will one child have to miss so that another can dance with a teapot?
