Paying it forward | Mary Sheehy Moe

Twenty springs ago, Montana school boards presented 73 requests to local voters to increase funding for their elementary schools. All but two (97.3%) passed. The same year 52 such requests were made for high schools. All but three (94.2%) passed.

Ah, those were the days — before the recession … before information and communication technology changed how community members, especially our children, learn and interact … before school shootings necessitated making greater investments in security personnel and infrastructure in our schools … before billionaire-funded tell-you-what-to-think tanks convinced lawmakers to syphon public funds for private schools … before COVID intensified children’s isolation, depression, and dysfunction.

Despite these new needs and the same old ones, last spring only 36 Montana school boards (less than half the 2006 number) presented elementary school funding requests to their local voters. Only half the requests passed — a 47.3% drop from 2006. At the high school level, of 25 mill levy requests, only 14 (56%) passed — a 38.2% drop. The declines in asks and answers were not one-offs. They’re a trend.

That trend has led to other trends. We know that smaller class sizes, particularly in the elementary grades, improve student learning and prevent teacher burnout. But when mill levies fail, school boards have no choice but to cut teachers and overload those who remain. Student performance suffers and teacher attrition escalates.

We know that providing a free, appropriate public education (FAPE) to students with disabilities is a moral and legal responsibility. Their special needs require services averaging triple the cost of educating the average student. Recognizing that, the federal government promised to shoulder 40% of the cost when it created the FAPE mandate in 1975. By 2014, the costs of special education had more than tripled, and the federal share had sunk to 26%. Ten years later, with more Montana students than ever (1 in 7) qualifying for special education, the federal share has shrunk to less than 15%.

Left holding an ever-heavier bag, local schools turn to their taxpayers to fund this mandate. If the taxpayers say no, schools have no choice but to cut programs, reduce staff, and overcrowd the classes that serve all seven students to meet the specialized needs of one.

We know that a highly qualified professional staff is the sine qua non of a good school, but a number of factors have contributed to a chronic teacher shortage in Montana. The 2025 Legislature’s STARS Act addressed starting salaries significantly, but had little effect on mid-career salaries. And salary is just one component of teacher recruitment and retention. With students’ behavioral and mental health problems escalating and anti-education rhetoric becoming ever more abusive, teachers seek schools that are supported by their communities — and leave them when they’re not.

We know students and staff cannot function optimally when their basic needs for comfort and safety go unmet. Too many Montana schoolteachers are bringing space heaters to heat their classrooms adequately. Too many support staff — average annual salary: $18,000 — are helping students navigate crumpled playgrounds and avoid lead-ridden drinking fountains.

Safety devices alone require an astonishing investment. “Crash bars” on doors, protective window coverings, electronic entry systems, panic buttons, emergency communication systems, cameras everywhere … you want to call it overkill, but Sandy Hook gave that word new meaning.

And so it is that desperate Montana school boards turn once again to their citizens to fill the gaps created by state and federal governments. Begging is never fun, and trustees know the same cost increases affecting schools are affecting you too. They also know that what they’re asking is a fraction of what they really need, but they cannot ask for more in this strained economy.

One of the great gifts of growing up in Montana is the sense of community our public schools instill, not only in students but in all of us. When our team wins, all of us cheer. When our choir sings like seraphim, all our hearts soar. And when that kid across the street comes home from commencement and frisbees his mortarboard across the lawn, you smile and muse, I had a hand in that.

Please keep having a hand in that. Montana’s children — and communities — need you more than ever.