nd toys to illustrate the challenges of being a child in a culture that drives children from a very young age to become adults athletically, intellectually and artistically.Bend Bugle, 26.August 2002
Oregon's season of budgetary paralysis makes for sad editorial fodder -- not only is there blame enough to spread to everyone, but the solutions are hard to come by and finding hope amid the hopelessness is harder yet.
Editorials in the current edition of the Bend Bugle address the budget challenges, while the "Letter from the Editor" looks for hope.
Blame for state's financial mess extends to us all
Times are tough for Oregon schools and colleges. Increased class sizes are harsh reality for teachers, students and staff. The harsher reality is that things will not get better -- at least they won't get better any time soon.
Gary Peterson, superintendent of schools for Crook County, figures it will take two or three more regular sessions of the Legislature before permanent solutions are found to the state funding crisis. There may be more than a few people who think that Gary Peterson is Pollyanna -- that it will take far longer than the 2007 session of the Oregon Legislature before the state's schools can dream again about becoming world class and stop worrying about whether they can pay the electrical bills for classrooms.
Whose fault is all of this? Perhaps it's time to look in the mirror.
In 1990, we passed Measure 5, a property tax limitation whose effects weren't overcome until nearly 10 years later. Now, as Oregon suffers from the same recession slamming the rest of the United States, the state Legislature and Gov. John Kitzhaber are helpless to effect meaningful action.
Kitzhaber and legislators were elected by the people -- and given no mandate for raising taxes, even though the demands on services increased exponentially.
Worse yet, this cycle of slamming the schools and falling into recession is a self-perpetuating reality. So long as Oregon education lags, the economic future of the state will lag. Economic development efforts, without an educated workforce to back them up, are doomed to fail as they have for the past two decades. The vaunted "Oregon Comeback" of the 1980s and 1990s, though impressive, failed to catch the state up with its neighbors to the north and south.
We are becoming Idaho West, as far as prosperity goes, yet at the same time we are suffering through cost-of-living increases driven by the prosperity of immigrants rather than driven by the state's own economy.
Education is the key to economic development -- the key to our futures and our children's futures -- and we've bankrupted our education system. Whether that bankruptcy was caused by neglect or deliberate choices is open to debate, but we all have had a part in it. Look in the mirror: Do you vote? How did you vote? Did you not vote at all? Did you read the newspapers before voting or not voting? We all have questions we can ask ourselves. We all should ask hard questions.
Once we've asked the hard questions, we all need to look in the mirror, take a deep breath, and ask how much we're willing to spend to rescue our future.
With Gov. John Kitzhaber's announcement Friday that the state revenue forecast is off by $350 million, it is well past time for schools, colleges and other agencies to move forward with the inevitable. It is time to make cuts -- tough cuts. That means cutting school days, reducing staff, eliminating programs and, where possible, charging higher fees.
This means that school officials won't simply be shedding tears. They will lose blood, lots of it, and may wonder just what it was that drove them to become educators.
Cutting back must surely be the most wrenching decision administrators and elected officials ever make. It will be made even more difficult by the fact that for several Central Oregon school districts, contract negotiations must be completed in a way that allows for reduced contracts.
And, yet, it must be done, and is in fact being done. While we offer our sympathy, we recognize that no amount of waiting will change the reality.
Mike Van Meter: Hope in times of hopelessness
For the lead story in this edition of the Bend Bugle, I photographed my teenage daughter on the lawn of an empty Cascade Middle School.
Autumn has always been remarkably cooperative for these sorts of ventures -- when she was just 3, she "juggled" athletic equipment, musical instruments, books and toys to illustrate the challenges of being a child in a culture that drives children from a very young age to become adults athletically, intellectually and artistically.
That story was one to give any parent pause.
More than 10 years later, the story is very different. The story that Oregon's public schools are suffering the worst crisis of my lifetime has dramatic effects beyond how we choose to raise our children. It will affect how our children raise our grandchildren -- and the economic environment in which they are raised. It will affect how much hope our children have, and will affect the way they live.
The story of the state budget and our schools is, to put it mildly, a very depressing story. Placing my daughter in front of a closed school building -- even during summer vacation -- was enough to give me pause, and to worry what effect shortened school years will have on her, my high school senior son Matthew and thousands of other sons and daughters around Central Oregon and beyond. Even more depressing, it is my job to write editorials that ask every one of us to look in the mirror, figure out what role we played in this disaster, then figure out what role we will play in salvaging the mess. It's my job to write editorials urging school officials to get on with the business of cutting their operations to match revenue that dwindles with each state economic forecast.
Today, my job also is to look at what looks to be a harsh and hopeless reality, then ask readers -- mothers, fathers, children, teachers, legislators -- to create hope.
If you watch TV and read the newspapers, it's easy to fear there's not much material to build that hope. Still, there's something in me -- something in every human being, I believe -- that dares to see hope where there is none.
Where do you find your hope?
For the Assemblies of God churches in Bend, "God Gives Hope." Or, at least, that's what Mike Johnson will be preaching on during the month of September.
I'm not sure how Pastor Johnson will give voice to that hope, nor do I know how many of my acquaintances voice hope.
I'd like to change that. I'd like to read your cards, your letters, your commentaries and your essays. I'd like to print those cards, letters, commentaries and essays.
Where do you find your hope?
Part of where I find my hope is in my children -- in knowing they're growing up to make this world better than the one they find as they become adults. I'm not sure exactly how they'll make the world better -- they're still young, after all -- but I know that they've helped make me better than I was before. They've challenged me, they've made me laugh, they've given me confidence and they've raised doubts in my heart even as I knew that confidence.
Where do you find your hope?
Part of where I find my hope is in the voice of my parents. My mother's voice echoes over the time from when I was born until it ceased being physically present 38 years after my birth. It encouraged me, gave me strength and, occasionally (well, perhaps it was often), woke me up. My father's voice was quieter -- reflected in action, more than words. It provided an example, and reflected a sensitivity and strength I didn't recognize until I was old enough to recognize that those qualities would soon pass from this world. His voice echoes in the words of his relatives during his memorial last month -- words that gave comfort not only to me, but to my fiancee, who learned from them how wonderful he knew her to be.
Where do you find your hope?
Part of where I find my hope is with my fiancee -- learning to love her as I want to be loved, learning to appreciate every moment as precious time with a beautiful human being. Something as simple as holding hands in church takes on a profound importance I failed to appreciate when I was a younger man.
Being in love while approaching middle age is something that speaks to Grace and renewal, continually learning that every morning brings with it new lessons from yesterday and the amazing opportunity to live well in the present. Stacey keeps me honest, hopeful and alive to the past, present and future, and full of the bright recognition that we have been given -- and helped create ourselves -- a precious gift that demands sharing rather than holding.
Where do you find your hope?
I'd like to know. I believe other readers would like to know.