What Happens Before Collapse
My school district’s financial crisis is also a communication crisis.
This is part of a series I’ve been writing about my local school district’s financial troubles. You can click here to see the rest in the series.
Board Meeting Monday Night
Last Monday I posted about the current situation with the school. I then went to my first ever school board meeting. I wanted to get the lay of the land. Were people in the community attending? Engaged? Did the board meetings seem to offer transparency? How were public comments handled?
The meeting room was packed when I arrived — a very good sign I thought. Though, at first I was taken aback by how many attendees were children. Like, young children. I thought it must be part of some sort of civics class or perhaps an impassioned speech from the youngest and cutest to save our school.
It was much more powerful than that.
The youngest students attended a program that taught the kids in three different languages — English, Spanish, and ASL. They demonstrated their fluency in all three through songs and exercises. I recognized kids from my bus route. They were engaged, excited, learning — everything you could dream for a child’s education. Tears were shed amongst us adults.
The other group of students were older, high school age. They were in a program that engaged students in middle school through high school. The objective of the program was to expose kids to opportunities in secondary education. Two of the students had already earned $56,000 each in college scholarships.
It was impossible to look these kids in the eye and imagine failing them, or failing a levy.
I was equal parts inspired and ashamed.
The kids left the meeting and we switched gears to typical board meeting agenda items, all with the vision of those kids still burning in our memories.
I came away with three observations from the meeting:
No strategy was mentioned regarding the financial problem and the cuts to the budget that needed to be made. No timeline, no milestones, and no goals. It could be that no strategy exists, or it could be that it just wasn’t communicated. Both problems are fixable, but the first one is harder. Both are necessary.
Budget meetings open to the public were suggested by the superintendent and scheduled for that Friday and this coming Tuesday (May 19th). I hoped it was a sign of willing transparency and maybe a chance to do a deeper dive into our current state and hopefully our strategy.
The school was in the middle of a financial audit. These are regularly scheduled audits, just part of business. But, the state would report its findings later that week.
On Thursday a story hit the news wires —Ki-Be was looking at a $2 million dollar shortfall and possibly entering into “Binding Conditions” - which isn’t a state takeover, but is more direct state management of the school budget. The state would allow the school to “borrow” against future revenues, but would also require the school’s strict administration of a budget plan. It means trading future flexibility for immediate financial survival.
Borrowing against future revenues also comes with costs — financial and otherwise.
Open Budget Meeting
Last Friday Ki-Be had a school budget meeting open to the community.
There were at least 9 community attendees, 2 board members, and the financial director and superintendent.
I’d gone in expecting to discuss budget cuts, a longer-term strategy, and hard numbers. None of that was discussed, but that doesn’t mean the meeting was pointless, or non-budget-related. Far from it. What I did hear was a community concerned and with limited information. That tracks with all of the rumors and guesswork and comments I’ve heard. When people don’t get information, ideas are pieced together to create a narrative that might make sense of a situation - for better or for worse.
What I heard was a community that struggled with uncertainty and lack of communication.
And that is probably the easiest thing to repair in this crisis.
It is the most powerful tool the administration has.
It is also terrifying.
What the Community Members Seemed to Want
Engagement, Answers, Transparency
Engagement
Meeting attendees offered multiple suggestions for grants, fund raisers, sponsorships and other ways to replace the funds lost from the failed levy. They were earnest and creative, and willing to help. I imagined the Herculean effort it would take for a fundraising effort to replace the $2 million dollar shortfall, and quietly shuddered.
Grants and fundraisers may help, but they are unlikely to solve a structural funding problem of this scale.
But the point I took away was that the room contained engaged community members with creative solutions and a “never say die” mentality.
And they were there to help, even in an information vacuum.
Most districts would give their eye-teeth for that kind of engagement.
Answers
Some attendees simply wanted one answer to the question “Are sports getting cut? And when will we know?” This isn’t a trivial ask because parents are looking for after school activities to keep their kids busy. Besides the less tangible skills and engagement that sports offer — discipline, teamwork, resilience, accountability — they also act as runways to other opportunities like scholarships, travel, mentorship.
And when sports are cut, parents move their kids to schools that offer those opportunities.
Families also face timing concerns around transfer rules and athletic eligibility under WIAA regulations, adding another layer of uncertainty when trying to make decisions for their children.
Logistically, it’s an issue of transportation, parents rearranging work schedules, possibly even relocation.
And from an administration side, cutting sports all but guarantees reduced enrollment, which impacts future revenues directly.
Extracurricular programs are not just activities. In many communities, they are part of what keeps families attached to a district.
When opportunities disappear, some families leave. And in public education, enrollment decline directly impacts future funding.
Transparency
People voiced anger that the thought process behind budget cuts wasn’t transparent. Not everyone can attend a board meeting, and meeting notes aren’t available until they’ve been approved at the next month’s board meeting. Information seemed to dissipate after the meetings, rather than reaching the broader community in a clear and usable way.
Takeaways:
What struck me most was that the people in that room were not apathetic.
They were worried.
Confused.
Frustrated.
Protective of their children.
Trying to help.
And despite the rumors, politics, fear, and uncertainty, they still showed up.
They showed up with ideas.
They showed up with questions.
They showed up with specific concerns that, in many cases, seemed entirely reasonable and addressable.
Because financial crises can sometimes be survived.
Communities can survive cuts.
They can survive painful decisions.
They can even survive failure.
But prolonged confusion and collapsing trust are much harder things to recover from.
What seemed absent from both meetings was a clearly communicated long-term strategy.
Not just cuts.
Not just survival.
A roadmap.
What gets protected?
What gets reduced?
What are the milestones for recovery?
What does success look like one year from now?
Communities can endure painful realities surprisingly well when they understand the plan.
What they struggle with is uncertainty.