Bad sausage

Can’t unsee making of LEARNS Act

There is an old saying that you should never watch sausage being made, or bills becoming laws. It’s disgusting and you can never unsee it.

In both cases there is a questionable mixture of the good, the bad, and the obscure floor scraps. Sausage is delicious, so it may be worth the risk. Omnibus bills, not so much. These kinds of bills are common in Washington, D.C., generally loaded with useless pet projects, and one of the reasons national-level politics are so intolerable. The only way to enact the good parts is to vote for the entire bill. This has never been a common practice in Arkansas, but it seems that those days are over.

Before the 144-page LEARNS bill was filed, teachers discussed and asked questions of lawmakers based on outlines made public, but we were met with resistance and vague responses. We were told to stop spreading gossip and hearsay. To quote one bill co-sponsor, “until we have a bill and fiscal impact there is only conjecture, assumptions.”

It was filed with less than 48 hours to read before the first committee vote, and was loaded with more unanswered questions. After the filing, we were chided for continuing to ask questions and told that the information had been out for months. Contradictory statements like these added to our frustration.

I’ve been to the Capitol twice recently, the second time with the intention of speaking to the House Education Committee about the severe distress the bill will surely put on small rural schools. I thought I was prepared. I wrote and timed a short presentation, and set the alarm for 4 a.m. My poor dogs were certain the world must be ending because this never happens.

With much anxiety about my night vision, or lack of it when faced with glaring headlights, I headed out before daylight, managed to navigate rush-hour traffic on I-40, and arrived an hour before the meeting. Much to my surprise, the first two pages of the sign-up for speakers were already full, but I had hope because I was at the top of the third page. The room was packed; so was the lobby.

The best part of the day was seeing educators and friends from all over the state who are passionate, dedicated, and united in the belief that contrary to all the hype, this bill will devastate public education. I have never before been so proud of my profession.

The meeting was scheduled from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m., so I figured even if it ran long, I’d still be home well before dark. That’s when someone cranked up the sausage-making machine and my plan began to fall apart.

Committee members asked good questions but were long-winded and seemed to be in no hurry. It soon became clear we weren’t going anywhere for a while. Most of morning I had been revising and scribbling new thoughts all over my carefully prepared comments so as to avoid repeating points that had already been covered. I continued to mark through and revise as I listened to those speaking before me. First 4 o’clock, then 5 o’clock came and went. Hope was fading. My eyes were scratchy and burning; I had choked down several outbursts when some especially controversial comments went unchecked by the chair. Things were getting more uncomfortable by the second.

Finally, I could wait no longer. I was angry and upset, dreading another rush hour, knowing that most of the drive home would be in the dark with my eyes on fire. I felt like a miserable failure and knew I had let down those who were counting on me to tough it out. I got home around 8:30 p.m. and discovered they had called my name at 7:30.

In retrospect, it seems that none of the compelling testimony from educators mattered. When you witness a large majority of teachers arguing against a bill that appears to substantially raise their pay, you should ask yourself why. When you witness superintendents fighting back tears as they explain how this would affect their districts, you have to ask yourself why. Seeing it sail through multiple sessions toward the governor’s desk with no reference that I’m aware of to Article 14 of the Arkansas Constitution, we should all be asking why.

Throughout the process there was bipartisan acknowledgement that the bill needed amending and more time to study. Unanswered questions were not addressed, except for the standard two choices of “that will be taken up in rules,” or “that will be up to local districts.” No protections were added for small schools or districts. Increasing foundation funding will not be enough to save them.

I’m sure there are some who support LEARNS, but it is worth mentioning that a large majority of educators are conservative Christians. Many have now publicly and privately stated that they will leave the Republican Party over this travesty, which could mean a seismic political shift in the future.

I think what has disturbed me the most throughout this entire sordid process is the anti-teacher and anti-superintendent attacks, including what can only be called cyber-bullying by the primary bill sponsor. Snarky tweeting about a group that came to the Senate Education meeting, without ever reaching out to the superintendent first, indicates the intolerance and lack of respect toward anyone who dares to question … well, anything.

Teachers are not some wild “woke” bunch and, as other writers have stated, superintendents are not the enemy. I feel sure that most educators will continue going to school every day because that’s what we do. We carry on. But know this: The divide-and-conquer tactics have failed. We will not forget.

Mentally and physically drained, and deeply distressed by the vitriol and propaganda I witnessed, I finally understand the sausage-making analogy. It was indeed disgusting, and I can never unsee it.