Archives for category: Idaho

Michael Hiltzik, a columnist for the Los Angeles Times, writes about state laws that deny women an abortion even if their life is in danger. The case involves Idaho law challenging federal law, and it’s heading for the Supreme Court. Provide the medical care needed or let women die?

He writes:

Here’s how the legal departments of two hospitals, legislators in two states and even the Supreme Court turned a pregnancy emergency for Mylissa Farmer into a life-threatening nightmare.

Farmer, 41, was 18 weeks into her pregnancy when her water broke prematurely. Her doctor instructed her to go to her local hospital in Joplin, Mo.

There, the hospital’s labor and delivery doctors determined that she had no amniotic fluid left. Her baby had “‘zero’ chance of survival” and she risked infection, blood loss, and even death. The doctors advised her that they could help her undergo an “inevitable miscarriage,” or she could wait, at risk to her life.

She chose the former, and then the hospital’s legal department stepped in. Although Missouri’s antiabortion law has exceptions when continuing a pregnancy might cause the mother’s death or “irreversible physical impairment,” the lawyers determined she was not quite there yet.

The doctors advised Farmer to go out of state, but the only hospital capable of handling her condition was in Kansas, which was then in the thick of a political campaign over a proposed antiabortion constitutional amendment

She arrived at the University of Kansas Hospital on Aug. 2, 2022, the very day that the vote was taking place. There the doctors offered either to induce labor or end her pregnancy surgically. Then that hospital’s lawyers stepped in. They forbade the doctors to provide any treatment at all, having ruled, according to a doctor, that it “was too risky in this political environment.” Three days later, she reached a clinic in Illinois that performed the necessary treatment.

Mylissa Farmer’s experience matches those of countless other women whose healthcare has been compromised by antiabortion state laws since 2022, when the Supreme Court in its so-called Dobbs decision overturned the guarantee of abortion rights established by Roe v. Wade in 1973. 

But there’s more to her case. The refusal by two major hospitals to treat her emergency condition violated federal law — the Emergency Medical Treatment and Labor Act of 1986, known as EMTALA. 

The law, which was drafted to stop hospitals from “dumping” emergency patients without insurance by denying them treatment, requires all hospitals receiving Medicare funds — pretty much all hospitals — to provide all emergency room patients with the treatment required to “stabilize” their conditions before transferring them or sending them home.

Investigations by Medicare inspectors last year concluded that the Joplin hospital and the University of Kansas Hospital violated EMTALA when they released Farmer without providing the requisite treatment. The penalties run up to $50,000 per incident and the termination of the hospitals’ Medicare contracts, but no actions have been announced.

There’s no exception in EMTALA when the required emergency treatment is an abortion. And that has made EMTALA the newest target of antiabortion agitators and politicians. They claim that the federal law promotes or even mandates abortions in all cases, which is false. 

The claim, however, has caught the eye of the Supreme Court, which has scheduled oral arguments April 24 on a case involving Idaho’s antiabortion law and its manifest conflict with EMTALA.

The court’s decision to take up the case alarmed abortion rights advocates when it was announced on Jan. 5. It looms even larger now: The court has signaled, though not guaranteed, that it will reject a right-wing challenge to the Food and Drug Administration’s approval of mifepristone, the key drug in medication abortions, but the Idaho case could give its conservative majority another crack at strengthening state antiabortion policies nationwide. 

“There was a lot of press around the mifepristone lawsuit,” says Michelle Banker of the National Women’s Law Center, which is providing Farmer with legal representation. “This is a bit of a sleeper case.” 

The case is rooted in an advisory issued by Medicare authorities two weeks after the Dobbs decision overturned Roe vs. Wade. It emphasized to doctors and hospitals that when a pregnant woman arrived at an emergency room with a condition that required an emergency abortion, “the physician must provide that treatment.”

When a state law prohibited abortion and didn’t include an exemption when the life of the mother was threatened, the advisory said, “that state law is preempted ” by the federal law. (Boldfaced emphases in the original.)

Antiabortion advocates instantly took up arms against the advisory. They scurried to federal court in Lubbock, Texas, which has a single active judge, Trump appointee James Wesley Hendrix, who obligingly blocked it with a permanent injunction. The government’s appeal went to the notoriously right-wing U.S. 5th Circuit Court of Appeals, which upheld the injunction.

The Texas case hasn’t made it yet to the Supreme Court. It was outrun by the Idaho case, in which the federal government moved to block Idaho’s antiabortion law to the extent it conflicted with EMTALA. 

The conflict, as the government points out, is that the law requires doctors to perform an emergency abortion if necessary to prevent a patient’s condition from deteriorating or to protect her from potentially severe or permanent injury. Idaho law forbids an abortion only if it’s necessary to avert a patient’s death. Doctors caught in this vise are in effect being told that they must allow a pregnant woman’s condition to deteriorate until she is near death before they can act.

It wasn’t entirely unsurprising that Idaho would become the battleground for the issue. The state is doing very well in the race to enact the most goonishly malevolent antiabortion policies. Its abortion law criminalizes abortion at all stages of pregnancy, with narrow exceptions for cases in which continuing a pregnancy would threaten the mother’s life. 

Idaho law also makes it a felony to help a minor leave the state for an abortion. (A federal judge has temporarily blocked the so-called “abortion trafficking” law while a lawsuit challenging its constitutionality proceeds.) 

The state has claimed that its abortion law makes it a felony for a healthcare provider to refer a patient for an abortion out of state. (Also blocked, for now, by a federal judge.) Another state law exposes professors at Idaho public universities with jail terms of up to 14 years for teaching, discussing, or writing about abortion.

Put all that together, and a ruling that it can flout federal law to protect its antiabortion credentials would be right up Idaho’s alley.

In making its case, Idaho asserts that after the Dobbs decision the Biden Administration “reinterpreted” EMTALA “to create a nationwide abortion mandate,” and that it “discovered” the mandate nearly 40 years after EMTALA’s enactment. 

As the government points out, however, the mandate was always within EMTALA; it never had to be spelled out before because Roe vs. Wade had been the law of the land for 13 years before EMTALA was enacted. Until Dobbs, the role of abortion as an emergency treatment almost never came under question. 

Antiabortionists maintain that Dobbs “caused a sea change in the law,” as 5th Circuit appellate judge Kurt D. Englehardt, another Trump appointee, wrote for the three-judge appeals panel upholding the Texas injunction.

That was a cute bit of legerdemain. EMTALA didn’t change as a result of Dobbs — healthcare laws in red states changed to outlaw abortion. “It has always been the case that EMTALA has been understood to require abortion care when that’s necessary to stabilize a patient’s medical condition,” Banker told me. “The only thing that’s new is that Roe v. Wade has been overturned.”

Indeed, according to a friend-of-the-court brief filed by six former Medicare administrators and former Health and Human Services Secretary Donna Shalala, who served under both Presidents Bush as well as Presidents Clinton and Obama, Medicare repeatedly issued public guidance stressing that abortion should be considered appropriate emergency treatment when warranted, even before Dobbs.

Idaho, like its apologists in the right-wing fever swamp, maintains that EMTALA “merely prohibits emergency rooms from turning away indigent patients with serious medical conditions” and doesn’t mandate “any specific type of medical treatment, let alone abortion.”

This is a crabbed and mendacious interpretation of the law. It’s a cynical attempt to conflate the problem that prompted Congress to act — hospitals were turning away emergency patients without insurance, a process known as “dumping” — with the much broader law Congress enacted. 

EMTALA explicitly protects “any individual” who presents at an emergency room, regardless of their financial or insurance situation. Indeed, hospitals aren’t even allowed to inquire about the patient’s financial or insurance status if that would delay examination or treatment. 

Idaho’s interpretation suggests that hospitals could simply keep indigent patients in their corridors, untreated, until they wasted away, without violating EMTALA. That’s not what the law says. It explicitly mandates that hospitals “provide either … such treatment as may be required to stabilize the medical condition” or transfer the patient to another facility that can provide the treatment — as long as the transfer itself won’t harm the patient.

What does “stabilize” mean? The law defines the term as meaning that “no material deterioration of the condition” would result from discharging or transferring the patient. It also defines an “emergency medical condition” as one that, without treatment, would jeopardize “the health of the individual,” or cause “serious impairment to bodily functions” or to any organ or body part.

Far from ignoring pregnancy issues, EMTALA has always explicitly covered women presenting with a pregnancy emergency. In those cases, the law says, the hospitals are bound to provide treatment that protects “the health of the woman or her unborn child.”

The friend-of-the-court briefs piling up on the Supreme Court’s EMTALA docket include several outlining the horrific moral and legal trap facing doctors caught between EMTALA and antiabortion state laws.

“Obstetricians in Idaho live in constant fear,” states a brief filed by a coalition representing 678 Idaho doctors and other medical professionals. “Always at the back of their minds is the worry that a pregnant patient will arrive at their hospital needing emergency care that they will not be able to provide.” 

Under Idaho law, doctors face prison terms of up to five years and the loss of their medical licenses for following medical protocols unless “the patient is face-to-face with death.” The federal and state laws are totally irreconcilable: 

Doctors confronted with an emergency pregnancy, the brief says, have the choice of complying with EMTALA and thus risking a stiff prison term and the end of their careers, or complying with state law and thus risking their patient’s health or even causing her death.

The EMTALA case gives the Supreme Court an opportunity to uphold science and morality on women’s reproductive healthcare, as it appears to be preparing to do on mifepristone. But what if it follows that case by allowing states to sentence pregnant women to substandard emergency care?

What a remarkable development! Brad Little, the Governor of Idaho, announced in his State of the State address that he wants to spend $2 billion over the next decade on repairing and replacing crumbling schools. He reached this decision as a result of an investigation by the Idaho Statesman and Pro Publica. This demonstrates the importance of local journalism—thank you, Idaho Statesman—and of the relentless Pro Publica. I am making a donation to Pro Publica right now. If I were in Idaho, I would definitely subscribe to the Statesman! In Idaho, local school bond issues cannot pass unless they win 2/3 of the votes. That’s a high hurdle because most voters don’t have school-age children and don’t want to pay higher taxes. This an unreasonable burden for the schools and guarantees that the horrible conditions documented by the investigation will persist without intervention by the state.

Pro Publica reports:

Idaho Gov. Brad Little on Monday proposed spending $2 billion over 10 years to help school districts repair and replace their aging buildings. This would mark the largest investment in school facilities in state history, he said.

The proposal, announced during the governor’s annual State of the State address, follows an Idaho Statesman and ProPublica investigation, which showed how Idaho’s restrictive school funding policies and the Legislature’s reluctance to make significant investments in school facilities have impacted students and teachers. Hundreds of students, teachers and administrators shared photos, videos and stories with the publications about the conditions they deal with on a daily basis.

“We’ve all seen the pictures and the videos of some Idaho schools that are neglected — crumbling, leaking, falling apart,” Little said, standing before the Legislature in the Idaho Capitol. “In one school I visited, raw sewage is seeping into a space under the cafeteria. Folks, we can do better.”

Showing photos of fallen ceiling tiles, cracked paint and damaged drains published by the Statesman and ProPublica, he added, “Let’s make this priority No. 1.”

Idaho has long ranked last or near last among states in spending per pupil, and it spends the least on school infrastructure per student, according to the most recent state and national reports. Districts across the state struggle to pass bonds — one of the few ways they can get funds to repair and replace their buildings — because Idaho requires two-thirds of voters for a bond to pass. Most states require a simple majority or 60%. Many superintendents told the Statesman and ProPublica that reaching Idaho’s threshold has been nearly impossible in their communities, and some have given up trying altogether.

As a result, students have had to learn in freezing classrooms and overcrowded schools, with leaky ceilings, failing plumbing and discolored drinking water. These conditions have made it difficult to learn, students and educators said, and have, at times, caused districts to temporarily close schools.

“It’s just a continuous struggle,” Jan Bayer, superintendent of the Boundary County School District, told the Statesman and ProPublica. Boundary County, a rural district in North Idaho, has run two bond elections to try to replace one of its elementary schools plagued with disintegrating pipes, cracked walls and a roof that’s reaching the end of its lifespan. But while one bond had 54% of voter support, both elections failed to reach the two-thirds threshold.

“It would be such a relief to be able to go to our local taxpayers and say our state’s going to invest in us too now,” Bayer said. “It would be a pretty joyful and hopeful moment for our teachers and for our community.”

Open the link to read the rest of the story.

Perhaps similar investigations in other states would prod elected officials to act on behalf of the state’s children.

One of the biggest obstacles to waking up the public is that most people have no knowledge of the privatization movement. They don’t understand that the attacks on teachers and public schools are part of a long-range plan to destroy public education as a community asset and turn it into an individual consumer choice, like choosing what kind of milk you want when you go grocery shopping (as Florida Governor Jeb Bush memorably said at the 2012 Republican Convention). The culture wars over LGBT issues, trans kids, and critical race theory are part of the same plan to sow distrust of a valued community institution.

This story appeared in Vanity Fair. It was written by Laura Pappano and produced by The Hechinger Report. It brings the controversy to an audience that is not immersed in education politics. Laura Pappano is the author of School Moms: Parent Activism, Partisan Politics and the Battle for Public Education, to be published by Beacon Press in January 2024. By the way, I just subscribed to a digital edition of Vanity Fair for only $1 a month. There is an educator price of only $8 a year. What a bargain for a publication with excellent content like this story.

Pappano writes:

In Priest River, Idaho, the moms seated at the conference table on Election Day were worried. They had good reason: Their poll watchers at voting sites—grange halls on dirt roads, community centers hardly larger than a bungalow—suggested things were not going their way.

There were no formal exit polls conducted in West Bonner County, where the school district covers 781 square miles over timbered hills and crystalline lakes in the north Idaho panhandle. But Dana Douglas, a fit and forceful blonde sipping on an Americano and a water bottle boosted with electrolytes (she was teaching spin at 6 p.m.) had been poll-watching at Edgemere Grange Hall, and she had her indicator for how voters were casting their ballots: “Anyone who said, ‘Hello, good morning’” was in their camp. “Anyone with a scowl” who would not look her in the eye was in the other.

“It’s going to be a battle,” she said at the table. Sitting beside her, Candy Turner, a retired elementary school teacher who had brought Ziploc bags of pear slices and dried cranberries for the hours ahead, agreed. “I think we are in trouble based on what I saw.”

After Election Day, headlines in key locales all around the country spoke of moms fighting extremists in local school board races and winning. But even as some celebrated “flipping” their school boards back, far-right groups like Moms for Liberty remain. As the organization declared in an email blast in which they claimed winning 50 new school board seats: “WE ARE JUST GETTING STARTED!”

Some people overlook school board skirmishes, seeing them as trivial. For Turner, Douglas, and many in the West Bonner County School District, they are anything but. It’s not about Democrats versus Republicans (Turner is a registered Democrat; Douglas is “a proud conservative Republican”). It’s about the viability of public education in their community.

This is not hyperbole. The national infection facing public schooling—the tug-of-war between education professionals and extremist culture warriors—has brought chaos and damage to West Bonner County. After this past school year ended, the superintendent acknowledged that 31% of teachers, counselors, and education leaders left the district, and scores of parents pulled their children, opting for homeschooling, online learning, or enrolling in another district. Buildings are infrequently cleaned; an elementary school principal reported at an October school board meeting that mice were running over children’s feet and hallways smelled of urine.

What has happened in West Bonner County offers a warning to public school supporters elsewhere. Douglas, Turner, and others are fighting to restore normalcy to an institution that should not be up for grabs—but is.

“We’ve been the canary in the coal mine,” Margaret Hall, the current school board chair who faced a far-right challenger, said on the eve of the November election. Hall, a soft-spoken but firm force, has served on the board for eight years, even through chemotherapy treatments for cancer. “What has to happen,” she said, “is people have to wake up and decide, ‘We don’t want someone to come in and tell us what we want. We want to decide ourselves.’”

Idaho is a conservative state and Bonner County is even more so, with registered Republicans outnumbering Democrats by almost seven to one (statewide it’s closer to five to one). Despite the nation’s bitter party politics, residents of this county have traditionally exercised a neighborly pragmatism in which the kids—or, as Douglas prefers, “our babies”—come first.

People filled in the gaps when it came to local needs, from sending groceries home with some children over weekends to teachers helping students brush their teeth or spending extra hours with struggling readers. But that spirit is now being tested by extremists who see a soft target in a stressed school district. Suddenly, the far-right’s anti-public-education catchphrases blared regularly on the national stage have become wedged into the local lexicon.

For example, “transgenderism” (described by one candidate as “boys in girls bathrooms, boys in girls sports, ‘gender-affirming care,’ and related absurdities”) became a top issue in this November’s school board race. One candidate for reelection, Troy Reinbold, a nonchalant figure who has attended meetings in cutoff shorts and exited mid-agenda without explanation, touted his work on “the strongest transgender policy in Idaho schools” and opposition to “social emotional learning,” which he called “a precursor to critical race theory.”

Hall, for her part, abstained in an August vote on a school district policy that would require teachers and staff to “refer to students by their biological sex” and students to use bathrooms and locker rooms corresponding to their genders assigned at birth, along with bar transgender girls from girls’ sports teams. She said it was confusing, poorly written, and not vetted by the board’s legal counsel (instead it was reviewed by the anti-LGBTQ Christian legal advocacy group, Alliance Defending Freedom). Hall’s campaign signs were later tagged with rainbow stickers. The policy ended up passing 4-0.

How a place that had long treated differences with a live-and-let-live ethos adopted the intolerant tone of national politics is anyone’s guess. Some blame an influx of newcomers. Bonner County, like the rest of Idaho, is growing, and over the past decade, the tally of registered voters has risen almost 50% to nearly 32,000.

But who they are and why some of them don’t support public education is a more complicated question. It’s possible that Idaho’s lax COVID-19 rules lured extremists, survivalists, and those lacking a communal impulse. There’s also a broader arc at play in a state economy that’s forced people to shift from work in local sawmills to commuter jobs that get them home later and leave them reliant on others to keep civic life running—a common pattern in 21st-century America. But Priest River, where the district is headquartered, is close-knit, populated by descendants of the six Naccarato brothers, who came from Italy to build the Great Northern Railroad in the late 1800s and stayed. That includes many mom organizers like Candy Naccarato Turner.

Priest River police chief Drew McLaindates the start of recent drama to the school board vote to rescind the English Language Arts curriculum from the well-established education publisher McGraw Hill. It had been swiftly and unanimously approved in June 2022 and was delivered to replace the curriculum that was out of print. But far-right activists objected, complaining that it included aspects of social emotional learning. Such instruction—on skills like “self-confidence, problem-solving, and pro-social behavior,” as McGraw Hill described the curriculum on its website—is a bugaboo for conservative ideologues. And on August 24 of last year, with one member missing, the board voted 3-1 to return the texts to the publisher.

The decision got the attention of moms like Douglas, Turner, and others. Whitney Hutchins,a new mother who graduated from West Bonner County schools in 2010 and whose family has operated a resort on Priest Lake for generations, started attending school board meetings. Ditto for Jessica Rogers, a mom of three daughters who had served on the curriculum committee and was upset by the reversal. Others, too, wondered what was happening.

After all, for years the meetings had been quiet affairs at the district’s storefront office on Main Street in a room with aged wood floors, folding chairs and tables, and a capacity of 34. By late 2022, such serenity was a thing of the past. People started lining up three to four hours in advance, which McLain said forced him to close Main Street for safety. Quickly, the gatherings got more and more unruly. First, McLain sent one officer, then several. At times, he called on the sheriff for backup.

Things escalated even further when Jackie Branum, who was hired as superintendent in the summer of 2022, proposed a supplemental levy, which sets a chosen amount as property tax to support local schools’ operating costs, and a four-day school week to address financial issues—then abruptly resigned. The board approved the shorter week, angering many parents. Then it appointed Susie Luckey, a popular elementary school principal, as interim superintendent until June. By May, the board had put a levy before voters that would provide roughly one-third of the district’s budget.

Supplemental levies in Idaho, which ranks 50th nationally in public school funding, had long been used for capital projects and are now essential for operations. But residents suddenly sorted into “for” and “against” factions. Signs sprouted along rural roads; arguments raged on Facebook. The levy failed by 105 votes out of 3,295 cast. Parents expressed concern at a public meeting that the district would cut sports and extracurricular activities; some worried about teacher retention. Not to mention: The district still had no permanent superintendent.

In a swift but puzzling process, the school board eventually announced two finalists for superintendent. One was Luckey. The other was a far-right former elected politician who worked for the Idaho Freedom Foundation by the name of Branden Durst. Durst was an unusual choice given his lack of school experience and the IFF’s hostility to public education. (In 2019, the president of the IFF called public schools “the most virulent form of socialism (and indoctrination thereto) in America today,” adding, “I don’t think government should be in the education business.”)

Then again, it wasn’t Durst’s first go-around: In 2022, the Democrat turned Republican ran for state superintendent of public instruction. He lost the GOP primary but in Bonner County beat his two challengers with 60% of the vote. Among the donors to his campaign were IFF leaders and a local resident who had opposed the McGraw Hill curriculum.

It is unclear how Durst, an abrasive outsider from 420 miles south in Boise, was so quickly ushered into contention. Jim Jones, former Idaho attorney general and a former justice of the Idaho Supreme Court, points to the IFF. He said the organization aims to “discredit and dismantle” public schools throughout the state, “starting with West Bonner County School District.”

Jones also credits the IFF for helping extremists Keith Rutledge and Susan Brown get elected to the West Bonner County School Board in November 2021 in a low-turnout race. It was a pivotal election—but people didn’t realize it then. In hindsight, Douglas said residents “got lazy and complacent and we didn’t get to the polls and put people in the district that valued public education.”

By early 2023, Rutledge and Brown—along with Reinbold, who revealed himself as a fellow extremist—had become a majority voting bloc on the five-person school board. Hall, the school board chair who works on climate change mitigation and who readily references the Idaho education code, and Carlyn Barton, a mother and teacher who describes herself as a “common sense constitutional conservative,” were at odds with the other three.

Durst’s candidacy earlier this year turned up the heat on divisions both on the board and in the community. School board meetings were packed. Militia started showing up. And while the Second Amendment is cherished in Idaho, residents were alarmed to find men donned in khaki with walkie-talkies—and presumably guns—present for conversations on children’s education.

“The militia should not be at school board meetings,” argued McLain, the police chief who claimed that one grandfather “was so pissed at the militia” that he arrived drunk with a rifle. “It’s been frustrating,” he added. “If you told me I had the choice of a school board meeting or a bank robbery, I would be way less stressed going to the bank robbery.”

Following multiple contentious meetings with Hall and Barton, who pressed board members to reconsider Durst’s candidacy, in late June, he was selected by a 3-2 vote. After his hiring was finalized, Barton charged that “the direction of our board has turned into a fascist dictatorship with an agenda which is far from our conservative point of view.”

From the moment he slid into the superintendent’s maroon Naugahyde-upholstered chair in the West Bonner County School District office, Durst seemed to relish his position of power. There was serious work to do—like negotiating a teacher contract—but he appeared far more interested in burnishing his reputation, describing his takeover as “a pilot” that others could learn from.

This was a chance, he told me in multiple interviews, to use the district to test his “ideas that are frankly unorthodox in education,” including some rooted in his Christian values. He wanted intelligent design taught alongside evolution in biology classes. He was working to have a Christian university offer an Old Testament course to high school students at a Baptist church near their school. He hoped the district would adopt curricula developed by the Christian conservative college Hillsdale in Michigan.

Durst also cast himself as a model for how non-educators could take charge of a school district. He boasted that national far-right figures were in touch and encouraged him not to “screw this up.” As he put it, “I broke into the club. I got a superintendency without having to go through the traditional process of doing it.” Indeed, he had not been a school principal, administrator, or classroom teacher.

That lack of process was a major problem for the state Board of Education, which in August gave the district notice it was not in compliance with Idaho law, a determination that jeopardized tax dollars critical for funding the schools. A letter sent to Rutledge, the chair at the time, cited budget irregularities, missed school bus inspections, concerns about discipline rates of special education students, and the failure to file forms to access federal funds. But the main issue, the state’s board said, was the district’s “decision to employ a non-certified individual as superintendent.” Durst had sought emergency certification but was rebuffed by the state.

All of the uncertainty and division grew so dire that teachers found themselves struggling to carry on, leaving many no choice but to give notice. “It breaks my heart that I had to leave,” Steph Eldore, a fixture at Priest Lake Elementary School for 26 years, told me over tears in late August. With her daughter starting high school, Eldore and her husband, Ken, who had been director of facilities and capital improvements for 16 years, quit the district, finding jobs and enrolling their daughter elsewhere.

By the end of summer, 27 teachers had retired or resigned, along with 19 other staff members, including the director of special education, a school principal, and three counselors. Families followed. By fall, school district enrollment was down to 1,005 students, 100 less than projected. Even McLain, the police chief, had rented a place in Sandpoint, about half an hour from Priest River, and enrolled his two high school–aged children there. “We call ourselves the Priest River refugees,” he said. Sergeant Chris Davis, the district’s school resource officer, similarly said his daughter has opted to finish high school online. All in all, the Lake Pend Oreille School District in Sandpoint, whose permanent levy offers steady funding, reported 43 student transfers from West Bonner County School District.

All of the uncertainty and division grew so dire that teachers found themselves struggling to carry on, leaving many no choice but to give notice. “It breaks my heart that I had to leave,” Steph Eldore, a fixture at Priest Lake Elementary School for 26 years, told me over tears in late August. With her daughter starting high school, Eldore and her husband, Ken, who had been director of facilities and capital improvements for 16 years, quit the district, finding jobs and enrolling their daughter elsewhere.

By the end of summer, 27 teachers had retired or resigned, along with 19 other staff members, including the director of special education, a school principal, and three counselors. Families followed. By fall, school district enrollment was down to 1,005 students, 100 less than projected. Even McLain, the police chief, had rented a place in Sandpoint, about half an hour from Priest River, and enrolled his two high school–aged children there. “We call ourselves the Priest River refugees,” he said. Sergeant Chris Davis, the district’s school resource officer, similarly said his daughter has opted to finish high school online. All in all, the Lake Pend Oreille School District in Sandpoint, whose permanent levy offers steady funding, reported 43 student transfers from West Bonner County School District.

Others, of course, remained. As the school year began, the West Bonner County School District 83 (“Strive for Greatness”) Facebook page was active with notices of cross-country races, soccer games, and picture day. But behind the sheen of normalcy were problems. A shortage of bus drivers led the district to cancel or combine routes. Many students’ commute times doubled, upsetting parents whose young children got home after dark, while other students had no bus transportation at all. There were also issues with school cleanliness. Kylie Hoepfer, a mom of a fourth grader, took on cleaning mouse turds on the bleachers at her daughter’s volleyball game. “I had heard about the mice problem but sweeping it all up was pretty gross,” she recalled.

The biggest hurt for families, however, was the loss of seasoned teachers. The district hired new ones, but a number of them soon quit. Trinity Duquette, a 1997 graduate of the high school, said her 8th-grade daughter “is on her third language arts teacher this year,” each with different styles and expectations. “They have been assigned essays and had a turnover in the midst of the assignment.”

For Paul and Jessica Turco, who built strong bonds with their son’s special education teachers who have since left the district, the loss “was like breaking up a family.” They said it was weeks into the school year before the new teachers read their son’s Individualized Education Program, the written plan outlining his learning needs. “It was like he was starting from the very beginning rather than a stepping stone from where he left off the prior year,” said Jessica. And it’s showing. “We have been dealing with constant outbursts,” she added, and “when he comes home from school, he doesn’t want to talk about his day.”

While watching the disruption, Hutchins, the new mom whose soft features belie a fierce frankness, made a decision: She and her husband were moving to Spokane, Washington. “I’m not going to raise my daughter here,” she said, curling into a leather chair at her family’s resort. Hutchins’s brother is gay. Watching his experience in school had been painful, and the hostility toward LGBTQ+ students seemed to be growing worse. “This is horrible to say,” Hutchins said after Durst’s hiring, “but the right-wing extremists, they are taking over our community.”

She wasn’t the only one thinking that—but not everyone was in a position to leave. Rogers, the mom of three who was on the curriculum committee, and her husband had recently built a home with sweeping views of Chase Lake. There was no moving away. So, she got involved at the school, first as a volunteer, then as a paraprofessional, and, more recently, teaching technology. Initially, she hadn’t wanted to get political, but soon, it no longer felt like a choice.

Back in late 2022, after the school board rescinded the McGraw Hill curriculum and voted for a four-day week, parents like Paul and Jessica Turco reached out to Turner, the retired elementary school teacher, who dialed up Douglas, the Election Day poll-watcher. “I called Dana and said, ‘The kids want some help,’” Turner recalled.

Although Douglas grew up over the state line in Newport, Washington, she married her high school sweetheart from Priest River and now bled Spartan orange. They had built a thriving family business, sent two children through the local schools, and had grandchildren enrolled. She understood that what she saw happening was at odds with what she stood for.

“I am a Republican. I am a Christian conservative,” said Douglas. “But I am 100% pro–public education, and I am pro–every child, and I will do anything for this community to embrace everyone and to love everyone.”

She, Turner, and others, including Hutchins, Rogers, and the Turcos, began meeting. How to take back the district? It started with the school board and, said Douglas, included a notion that should seem obvious: “getting people who value public education” to serve.

By the summer of 2023, they had collected signatures for a recall vote of Rutledge and Brown, the board’s chair and vice chair respectively. The group’s slogan—“Recall, Replace, Rebuild”—blossomed on signs in downtown storefronts, in yards, and banners posted in fields. The group collected endorsements, video testimonials, and built a website. By the time they were days out from the August 29 vote, their numbers had swelled. Over 125 people gathered in the wood-beamed great room at the Priest Lake Event Center for what was part rally, part check-in: Who could pick up “WBCSD Strong” T-shirts? Who would hold signs at key spots ahead of the vote?

Recalls usually fail. But in West Bonner County, the result was resounding. With a 60.9% turnout, Rutledge and Brown were recalled by a wide margin. But then, after the election but before votes were officially certified, Rutledge and Brown posted notice of a board meeting for Friday, September 1, at 5 p.m., just before Labor Day weekend. The top agenda items—“Dissolve Current Board of Trustees” and “Turn Meeting Over to the Superintendent”—raised alarms.

“I read the agenda and I was irate,” said Katie Elsaesser, a mom of two and a lawyer whose office is near the school district office. “I immediately started calling people.” She texted her husband that she would miss their son’s soccer game, then drafted a complaint, finishing at 2 a.m. In the morning, she drove to the district court in Sandpoint. One hour and fifteen minutes before the meeting was to take place, Elsaesser got a ruling to halt it. McLain delivered the news to the crowd in the high school cafeteria. “You would think I scored a touchdown,” he said.

In another strange twist after the recall, the board could not hold several meetings because Reinbold failed to show. Without a quorum, which required three present members, business halted. Finally, after a former school board chair alerted county officials, the sheriff agreed to investigate. Reinbold reappeared, and in mid-October, the board finally filled the vacant seats with two people who supported the recall.

With his options running thin, on September 25, 2023, Durst announced plans for “an amicable and fair exit.” For the fourth time in less than two years—since a longtime superintendent retired in June 2022—the district was again seeking a new leader. Hall reached out to Joseph Kren, a former principal at the high school who had also served as superintendent in a nearby district. Kren was enjoying retirement—he got Hall’s call at 9:30 p.m. before he was to wake at 3:30 a.m. to go elk hunting. He would agree to a 90-day contract (the four-day week means it runs through March).

His appointment was greeted with relief. Kren, a serious-faced former wrestler, is religious but not ideological. On the sixth day of his new job, occupying the same spot Durst had just vacated, Kren showed me the silver-colored crucifix he had hung above his desk. Kren was clear that his faith “has guided [him]” but has “never gotten in the way.”

Growing up with a brother who was deaf, Kren said, has made him attuned to matters of inclusion and accommodation, which he called “a legal and moral responsibility.” His only agenda was to put things right. By Thanksgiving, he told me, the district had corrected state compliance issues, and he was working to add bus drivers. With so many turnovers, he acknowledged “disruptions can and do occur.” But his plan, he said, was steady: to “roll up [his] sleeves and work alongside” staff and to make “firm, consistent, morally sound decisions based in fact and the law.”

The November 2023 election would be pivotal. With the two school board replacements set—picked by the recall supporters who lived in the two school zones that had been represented by Rutledge and Brown—the other three zones’ seats were on the ballot. The pro-recall crowd wanted to boot Reinbold and reelect Hall and Barton. The election, in essence, would decide which side had a majority.

But each had challengers. Hall faced Alan Galloway, a sharp-jawed army veteran and cattle rancher who opposed “transgenderism,” efforts “to impose the outlawed teaching of CRT through SEL or any other ‘trojan horse’ scheme,” and a levy. He circulated a controversial letter with inflammatory claims, including that Hall had “failed our children by delaying action related to bullying, dress codes and Pornography within our schools.”

Barton faced Kathy Nash, who had pushed to rescind the curriculum, was treasurer of the Bonner County Republican Central Committee, and connected to far-right figures at the state level. Two of the far-right candidates shared a campaign treasurer and campaign finance reports show some of the same people donating to the three far-right candidates.

In other words, there were teams. Jim Kelly,Nash’s campaign manager, said Nash would bring scrutiny to school finances—and provide representation to those wounded by the recall. Kelly told me, “The big concern for Kathy, and for a lot of us, is that the school board is going to be 100% lopsided,” if the candidates he backed, whom many would consider far-right, were not elected. “People are objecting that there will not be a conservative voice.”

And yet, Nash’s opponent, Barton, was a conservative Christian. As was Reinbold’s challenger, Elizabeth Glazier, whose website described her as a “Proud Republican & Conservative Christian” who opposed the four-day week and the hiring of Durst. The race was not conservatives against liberals or Republicans against Democrats. It was, as locals told me, a referendum casting those who cared that students had books, buses, and teachers with a decent wage, against those who embraced extremist rhetoric.

At various polling places on Election Day, far-right campaign volunteers were overheard promising that Nash and Reinbold would keep boys out of girls’ bathrooms.

For parents who rely on the public schools, this kind of allegation was maddening. “It’s just paranoid bull honkey,” said Jacob Sateren, a father of eight (six in the schools). We met at a coffee shop across from the junior high on Election Day shortly after he had voted. Sateren, who’d turned a challenging childhood into a successful adulthood building pole barns, laughs when people call him “a woke liberal.” (His Facebook profile features an American flag emblazoned with the Second Amendment, he pointed out.)

He finds charges that schools are “indoctrinating” children absurd. “I haven’t had any of my kids come home and talk about any crazy weird stuff. And even if they did, if you are an involved parent, it doesn’t really matter. If teachers at the school are teaching my kids something I disagree with, it’s my job to be paying enough attention to catch it,” he said. “I don’t know why people get worked up. There is always going to be stuff you disagree with.”

On the day before the vote, under steady rainfall, Hutchins, Rogers, and another volunteer placed signs along Route 57 across from Priest Lake Elementary School, a polling station. Rogers’s youngest daughter skipped while twirling a child-sized umbrella. “A lot of people are very confident of Margy winning—we are not,” said Rogers, referring to Hall by her nickname.

There was good reason for concern. In the end, Hall did best Galloway by a 60-40 margin. But as Douglas and Turner had feared, Nash defeated Barton, and Reinbold won over Glazier. Retaking the district would not be quick or easy. Yet having a majority on the board offered relief. “We can rebuild,” said Douglas.

Hall, however, was concerned about the division that had eroded support for public education in the first place. The question on her mind was how to bring calm. On the eve of the election, she had made a soup with red lentils, ginger, and coconut milk, which she ladled into small ceramic bowls. As she sat at her dining table talking and eating, she rose periodically to let her dog, Cinco, outdoors, accompanying him with a flashlight. Because of a defect at birth, he now has only three legs; there were cougars and a pride of mountain lions in the dark woods.

Between trips, she shared her idea of creating random seating assignments at the round tables in the high school cafeteria where school board meetings were now held, a strategy for encouraging residents on each side to sit together and actually converse. “How tired are people of the fighting and name-calling and bashing?” There was much work to do—a new levy needed, a curriculum people agreed on, teacher contracts, luring families back—but she told me it started with “trying to work as a team, to balance perspectives.”

The day after the election, with the reality of the mixed board clear, Hall offered a sober assessment. “My work,” she said, “is definitely cut out for me.”

This story about West Bonner was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for the Hechinger newsletter. Laura Pappano is the author of School Moms: Parent Activism, Partisan Politics and the Battle for Public Education, to be published by Beacon Press in January 2024.

Commonweal is a liberal Catholic magazine. It publishes thoughtful articles without deference to Church dogma. This article is an excellent example; Luke Mayville of Idaho explains why vouchers are bad for the common good, bad for society. This is a bold stance to take in a Catholic publication. The usual deep-pocketed voucher advocacy groups pumped money into Idaho to promote universal vouchers (vouchers for all without income limits). They were unsurpringly opposed by the Idaho Education Association and the Democratic Party, which saw the danger to public schools. Even State Senate Republicans opposed them because of concerns about cost and accountability.

Luke Mayville explains the secret of Idaho’s success in rejecting vouchers: grassroots organizing.

Mayville writes:

Ever since Milton Friedman’s 1955 essay “The Role of Government in Education,” economic libertarians have dreamed of privatizing America’s system of public schools. In place of a school system that is publicly funded, democratically governed, and accessible to all, policy entrepreneurs have sought to transform American education into a commodity—something to be bought and sold in a free market.

In the push to privatize education, the tip of the spear has always been school vouchers—policies that extract funds from public schools in order to subsidize private-school tuition. Milwaukee established the nation’s first voucher program in 1990. In the following twenty-five years, voucher experiments were rolled out in fits and starts, often meeting with stiff public resistance. Voucher advocates gained significant footholds in Ohio, Washington D.C., Indiana, and elsewhere, but lacked the power to fundamentally transform the nation’s public-school system.

The cause has gained unprecedented momentum during the past five years. In their book A Wolf at the School House Door (2020), Jennifer Berkshire and Jack Schneider sounded the alarm about “an increasingly potent network of conservative state and federal elected officials, advocacy groups, and think tanks…backed by deep-pocketed funders,” all of them committed to dismantling public education as an institution. The new assault on public education intensified in the pandemic era, as voucher advocates seized the opportunity of mass school closures to propose—and in many cases enact—sweeping privatization schemes. In states across the country, the voucher agenda went hand in hand with efforts to sow distrust in public education by claiming, usually without evidence, that schools had become centers for critical race theory, “gender ideology,” and other forms of “social-justice indoctrination.” Meanwhile, voucher proponents were energized by landmark decisions of the United States Supreme Court, most notably Espinoza v. Montana in 2020 and Carson v. Makin in 2022, both of which appeared to remove constitutional obstacles to the use of public dollars for private religious education.

The nationally coordinated push to privatize public education is one of the most corrosive developments in American life. While Catholics and members of other faith communities have rightly cherished private parochial education, they, too, have strong reasons to support America’s public schools even if their own children do not attend them. It is an essential feature of the mission of public education to affirm the dignity of every child and to prepare each child to be a full participant in civic and economic life. As Berkshire and Schneider put it, public education “is our collective effort to realize for all young people their full human potential, regardless of circumstance.”

Fortunately, the coordinated attack on public education has met strong resistance from educators, students, parents, and citizens in several states across the country. During the 2023 legislative session here in Idaho, legislators presented a long series of voucher bills. One proposal sought to enact universal “education savings accounts” (ESAs) that would be available to every Idaho family—including the affluent. Other bills proposed tax-credit schemes or more targeted approaches. Every single proposal failed. Remarkably, Idaho remains voucher-free even as the voucher movement has enacted sweeping legislation in Arizona, Florida, West Virginia, Iowa, Arkansas, and elsewhere.

Grassroots organizing has been indispensable in Idaho’s fight against vouchers. A strong coalition of educators, parents, and advocacy organizations—including Reclaim Idaho, an organization I cofounded—has proved to be an effective counterweight to the voucher movement’s deep-pocketed lobbying efforts.

A recent poll by the Idaho Statesman found that public opinion in Idaho is dead set against vouchers, with 63 percent opposed and just 23 percent in support. The mission of organizers has been to translate widespread public opposition into effective political action. To that end, we’ve organized in communities across this vast state and helped citizens become defenders of public schools and sharp critics of voucher schemes. We’ve helped local advocates understand and articulate the arguments against vouchers that resonate most with the public: that vouchers are fiscally reckless, costing far more than advertised; that voucher programs tend to diminish student achievement and discriminate against students with disabilities; and that voucher programs are especially harmful for rural communities where no private-school options exist.

In local efforts to resist vouchers, grassroots organizing can harness the power of personal stories. The voucher movement has attempted to tell their own personalized story by evoking images of poor, marginalized children who’ve been “trapped” in failing public schools. The promise of “school choice” is to give struggling parents the choice to move their children into private schools that better fit their needs. However, as more states adopt voucher programs, the vast majority of voucher funds are flowing not to students who’ve left public schools but to private-school students who were never in public schools to begin with. A total of 89 percent of voucher funds in New Hampshire, 80 percent in Arizona, and 75 percent in Wisconsin have gone to students already enrolled in private schools, and these students disproportionately belong to affluent families living in suburban and urban areas.

The “school choice” story is mostly a fiction, and grassroots organizing can refocus the conversation on personal stories that paint the full picture. When people get organized on the voucher issue, the question can suddenly shift from “Do families deserve more choice?” to “Why would we pull scarce funds from our public schools—especially in rural areas—in order to subsidize tuition for affluent suburban families?” During testimony before the Idaho Senate Education Committee on a bill to create universal ESAs, a public-school supporter named Sheri Hughes phoned in to testify remotely from Challis—a mountain town of 922 people located 190 miles from the state capital. “I know the power and strength of consolidated public money for education, especially in rural Idaho,” Hughes said. She told the committee that her grandfather had served on the Challis school board and helped build the town’s first high school, that her mother—also a school-board member—helped get the high school rebuilt after the 1983 Challis earthquake. “Based on Arizona’s ESA Voucher experience,” Hughes went on, “the money proposed to be removed off the top of Idaho’s education funding budget would take an estimated 17–20 percent of funding away from Challis schools—in an area with no private alternative choices, and where home-school students still access public-school resources for proctoring, band, sports, special ed, and other extracurricular activities.”

Please open the link and learn how Idaho parents and teachers and citizens organized to beat back the out-of-state money behind vouchers.

This story appeared in Commonweal, a progressive Catholic magazine of distinction. The author, Luke Mayville, has organized thus-far successful resistance to vouchers.

He writes:

Ever since Milton Friedman’s 1955 essay “The Role of Government in Education,” economic libertarians have dreamed of privatizing America’s system of public schools. In place of a school system that is publicly funded, democratically governed, and accessible to all, policy entrepreneurs have sought to transform American education into a commodity—something to be bought and sold in a free market.

In the push to privatize education, the tip of the spear has always been school vouchers—policies that extract funds from public schools in order to subsidize private-school tuition. Milwaukee established the nation’s first voucher program in 1990. In the following twenty-five years, voucher experiments were rolled out in fits and starts, often meeting with stiff public resistance. Voucher advocates gained significant footholds in Ohio, Washington D.C., Indiana, and elsewhere, but lacked the power to fundamentally transform the nation’s public-school system.

The cause has gained unprecedented momentum during the past five years. In their book A Wolf at the School House Door (2020), Jennifer Berkshire and Jack Schneider sounded the alarm about “an increasingly potent network of conservative state and federal elected officials, advocacy groups, and think tanks…backed by deep-pocketed funders,” all of them committed to dismantling public education as an institution. The new assault on public education intensified in the pandemic era, as voucher advocates seized the opportunity of mass school closures to propose—and in many cases enact—sweeping privatization schemes. In states across the country, the voucher agenda went hand in hand with efforts to sow distrust in public education by claiming, usually without evidence, that schools had become centers for critical race theory, “gender ideology,” and other forms of “social-justice indoctrination.” Meanwhile, voucher proponents were energized by landmark decisions of the United States Supreme Court, most notably Espinoza v. Montana in 2020 and Carson v. Makin in 2022, both of which appeared to remove constitutional obstacles to the use of public dollars for private religious education.

The nationally coordinated push to privatize public education is one of the most corrosive developments in American life. While Catholics and members of other faith communities have rightly cherished private parochial education, they, too, have strong reasons to support America’s public schools even if their own children do not attend them. It is an essential feature of the mission of public education to affirm the dignity of every child and to prepare each child to be a full participant in civic and economic life. As Berkshire and Schneider put it, public education “is our collective effort to realize for all young people their full human potential, regardless of circumstance.”

Fortunately, the coordinated attack on public education has met strong resistance from educators, students, parents, and citizens in several states across the country. During the 2023 legislative session here in Idaho, legislators presented a long series of voucher bills. One proposal sought to enact universal “education savings accounts” (ESAs) that would be available to every Idaho family—including the affluent. Other bills proposed tax-credit schemes or more targeted approaches. Every single proposal failed. Remarkably, Idaho remains voucher-free even as the voucher movement has enacted sweeping legislation in Arizona, Florida, West Virginia, Iowa, Arkansas, and elsewhere.

Grassroots organizing has been indispensable in Idaho’s fight against vouchers. A strong coalition of educators, parents, and advocacy organizations—including Reclaim Idaho, an organization I cofounded—has proved to be an effective counterweight to the voucher movement’s deep-pocketed lobbying efforts.

A recent poll by the Idaho Statesman found that public opinion in Idaho is dead set against vouchers, with 63 percent opposed and just 23 percent in support. The mission of organizers has been to translate widespread public opposition into effective political action. To that end, we’ve organized in communities across this vast state and helped citizens become defenders of public schools and sharp critics of voucher schemes. We’ve helped local advocates understand and articulate the arguments against vouchers that resonate most with the public: that vouchers are fiscally reckless, costing far more than advertised; that voucher programs tend to diminish student achievement and discriminate against students with disabilities; and that voucher programs are especially harmful for rural communities where no private-school options exist.

In local efforts to resist vouchers, grassroots organizing can harness the power of personal stories. The voucher movement has attempted to tell their own personalized story by evoking images of poor, marginalized children who’ve been “trapped” in failing public schools. The promise of “school choice” is to give struggling parents the choice to move their children into private schools that better fit their needs. However, as more states adopt voucher programs, the vast majority of voucher funds are flowing not to students who’ve left public schools but to private-school students who were never in public schools to begin with. A total of 89 percent of voucher funds in New Hampshire, 80 percent in Arizona, and 75 percent in Wisconsin have gone to students already enrolled in private schools, and these students disproportionately belong to affluent families living in suburban and urban areas.

The “school choice” story is mostly a fiction, and grassroots organizing can refocus the conversation on personal stories that paint the full picture. When people get organized on the voucher issue, the question can suddenly shift from “Do families deserve more choice?” to “Why would we pull scarce funds from our public schools—especially in rural areas—in order to subsidize tuition for affluent suburban families?” During testimony before the Idaho Senate Education Committee on a bill to create universal ESAs, a public-school supporter named Sheri Hughes phoned in to testify remotely from Challis—a mountain town of 922 people located 190 miles from the state capital. “I know the power and strength of consolidated public money for education, especially in rural Idaho,” Hughes said. She told the committee that her grandfather had served on the Challis school board and helped build the town’s first high school, that her mother—also a school-board member—helped get the high school rebuilt after the 1983 Challis earthquake. “Based on Arizona’s ESA Voucher experience,” Hughes went on, “the money proposed to be removed off the top of Idaho’s education funding budget would take an estimated 17–20 percent of funding away from Challis schools—in an area with no private alternative choices, and where home-school students still access public-school resources for proctoring, band, sports, special ed, and other extracurricular activities.”

Grassroots organizing can also help advocates expose the creative attempts by voucher proponents to present their policy agenda as something less threatening. With the American public skeptical of school vouchers and school privatization more generally, the privatization movement has aggressively sought to rebrand vouchers by means of convoluted policy schemes. Proponents of ESAs claim that they are not proposing vouchers but merely offering families money that can be used for a wide range of education services—including, but not limited to, private-school tuition. Similarly, proponents of “tax-credit scholarships” claim their proposals are distinct from vouchers because they do not directly spend public dollars on private schools but instead award tax credits to individuals who choose to fund private-school scholarships.

Grassroots organizing can expose these policies for what they are: vouchers by another name. In Idaho, we’ve invested time and energy in community meetings across the state where the goal is to share information with local public-education supporters about the mechanics of ESAs, tax-credit scholarships, and other policy schemes. Such meetings have prepared local citizens to speak out forcefully against thinly veiled attempts to siphon funds out of their public schools. Local advocates have written to their legislators, published op-eds and letters to the editor, spoken with friends and neighbors, and—most importantly—many have shown up to testify before the legislature. With so many grassroots advocates raising their voices and telling the truth about these policies, it’s been very difficult for privatizers to maintain the public narrative that they are promoting something other than a repackaged voucher scheme.

Please open the link and finish reading the rest of this excellent article.

Peter Greene reported the story of West Bonner, Idaho, where a far-right, anti-public school group won control of the school board and began to mess with curriculum and books and to hire a totally unqualified superintendent. When two of the extremists were recalled, the unqualified superintendent remained in place. What will the voters do in Bovember, when they have a chance to restore control to people whose chief interest is the students and the schools?

Greene writes:

The saga of the West Bonner School District and its completely unqualified and unlicensed superintendent continues, with more twists and turns and fairly spectacular dysfunction.

The board had hired Branden Durst, a noisy political wanna-be with a checkered past and zero qualifications, to be superintendent. But his highly unusual contract depended on his procurement of an emergency superintendent certification, and the state board decided that A) he met zero of the qualifications and B) they didn’t have the power to do that anyway.

Some of the story echoes other districts where a conservative group managed to commandeer the school board. People simply became complacentabout board elections, not paying attention to what the board was up to, or not bothering to vote because they assumed the reasonable candidates were shoo-ins.

In the case of West Bonner, the Idaho Freedom Foundation, yet another of those far right groups that wants to do away with public schools entirely, pounced. Dropped textbooks and a curriculum replaced with the far right Hillsdale curriculum and a defeated levy to fund things like books and salaries–those were the prelude to installing Durst as superintendent.

Now, you might think that would be the end of the story, but you’d be wrong.

About the time Durst was hired, a recall effort was under way to remove two of the most right wing board members. Despite any number of nasty tricks, the recall succeeded at the beginning of September. Those seats will be filled in November, but in the meantime, Durst and the board have tried some last minute antics, like moving to dissolve the school board at a board meeting scheduled at the last minute for a Friday evening of a three day weekend. It took a court ordered injunction to stop that nonsense.

The recall has created another problem. It leaves three board members, which means all three must be present to conduct business, and one member, the other third of the conservative coalition, decided not to attend last week’s board meeting, which would have been the first since the state board said that there is “no path” for Durst to become credentialled to fill a superintendent spot. But with only two members present, the meeting was canceled for lack of a quorum.

That means, among other things, that Durst is still in the superintendent’s post and that the district, not the state, will have to pay his salary. One would think he can’t be superintendent on account of, you know, being unqualified and uncredentialed, but Durst has other thoughts.

“But, Durst told KREM 2 he still is the superintendent.

“They don’t make the law,” Durst said. “They aren’t the law. How many people could say that? That they don’t have to follow the laws of Idaho.”

The state board’s action, says Durst, was “pretty discriminatory.” Durst says a lot of things, although nothing about what, other than his ideological bent, qualifies him to be a school superintendent.

There’s a lot riding on the next election for West Bonner, but folks are awake and paying attention now. We’ll see what the next chapter holds.

Greene updated the West Bonner story here: the fake superintendent is still in charge.

Vote! Vote!

Steve Berch is a member of the Idaho House of Representatives, one of only 11 Democrats in a body with 70 members. He is serving his third term. His analysis of the attack on public education in Idaho and other states is brilliantly cogent. He understands that privatization is all about the money. This article appeared in the nonprofit IdahoEdNews.org.

Berch describes the playbook of the privatization movement.

Berch writes:

Idaho will spend $2.3 billion on K-12 public education in 2024. There are powerful out-of-state forces who want to get their hands on that money. Some are driven by profit, others by political ideology, religious beliefs, or a combination of interests. They all share one common goal: shift your public schools dollars to the private sector. Here are some of the dots to connect in the “privatizing public education” playbook:

  1. Make public schools look worse than other school choices. The legislature does this by continually underfunding public education. Schools can’t meet parental expectations, accommodate growth, or hire/retain experienced teachers when salaries are not competitive and buildings are falling apart. Idaho has a backlog of over $1 billion in K-12 school building maintenance and we’re still at or near the bottom in per-student investment, even after having a $2.1 billion surplus and a recent budget increase. This makes other school choices look more attractive by comparison.
  2. Undermine confidence in public schools. Propaganda campaigns incite fear and anger against local schools. Parents are bombarded with false claims about porn in libraries, groomers in classrooms, and student indoctrination. Non-stop postings on social media perpetuate these inflammatory accusations. Self-proclaimed “think tanks” funded by third-parties produce official looking reports that create a false perception of legitimacy to these manufactured fears.
  1. Hide the facts. Legislative leaders tried to kill the Office of Performance Evaluations (OPE) – which provides factual, in-depth, unbiased research and analysis to the legislature. The public wouldn’t know about the billion dollar backlog in school building maintenance if OPE didn’t exist. The OPE report that revealed this new information angered political leaders trying to tell a different story. Without facts, false narratives go unchallenged.
  2. Legislative intimidation. New laws are making classrooms a hostile workplace. This includes bills that threaten to sue educators, imprison librarians, fine school districts, muzzle teachers, and empower the Attorney General to aggressively prosecute the targets of these punitive laws. No wonder teachers are leaving Idaho.
  1. Promote “school choice” and “education freedom.” This is clever rhetoric, but it is meaningless since Idahoans already have a myriad of education choices – none of which are going away. It’s not about having choice, but rather having you pay for someone else’s choice. A recent in-depth investigationrevealed a vast network of powerful forces funneling money into Idaho to promote and sell their alternative education choices to the public.
  2. Kill public education with vouchers (deceptively called Education Savings Accounts, or ESAs). An attempt was made earlier this year to convert most of the $2.3 billion public education budget into checks sent to parents to spend however they want – without accountability. This would starve Idaho public schools into oblivion.

The 2023 bill tried to hit a home run and failed. However, the lobbyists behind privatizing public education will be back, fronted by their legislative allies. Expect to see legislation next year that allows public tax dollars to pay for private and religious school tuition in limited amounts and isolated situations.

This is fool’s gold – there is no room for compromise. If the legislature allows just a small amount of public tax dollars to be spent on tuition for any private school, your tax dollars must be made available to all types of private schools and religious schools. Once one bill passes, the flood gates open up to flow your public education dollars to the bottom line profits of private sector businesses.

Your public education tax dollars belong in your public schools, not in their pockets.

While the billionaire-funded CREDO report assured us about the “impressive” but trivial academic results of charter schools, the reality on the ground is that the charter sector is unstable. It’s not unusual for charters to close their doors without warning or to experience graft or financial problems.

The charter in Boise has been afflicted with multiple issues. It had “financial malpractice” issues, it defaulted on its loan, its enrollment declined by more than 50%, and its leader got a better job.

It’s worth repeating that research continually shows the importance of stability in children’s lives. “Stability” is not the word for the Boise charter.

Sadie Dittenber of Idaho Education News reported:

Boise’s Village Leadership Academy will downsize to a smaller facility this year after defaulting on its building loan. The move is the final step in a multi-year plan to get the school’s finances back on track.

In 2019, a third-party report uncovered financial malpractice within the Boise charter, putting the school at risk of closure. But over the past three years, the school has operated on a balanced budget and improved most of its financial outcomes, according to a report given to the Idaho Public Charter School Commission Thursday.

But the school’s current building, located on Fairmeadow Dr. in Boise, is too large and too expensive for the charter to maintain, according to the report. The building was purchased in 2017, in hopes that the school’s student body population would grow to fill the space and pay off the facilities loan. But since 2019, the student population dropped by more than half.

In May, the charter board decided to exit its current loan — an option outlined in a December forbearance agreement between the VLA and its bank — and seek a smaller, more affordable building. The new facility is located on Goldstone Dr. in Meridian. The move could result in a boundaries shift for the school.

“While the building will have some drawbacks, it will continue to allow VLA to be a safe, small, village oriented, Leader in Me school for our Kindergarten through 8th grade students,” wrote school administrator Josh Noteboom in a May email to parents. “We are excited to be working towards the end of our facility challenges, and set the school up for success in the future.”

According to Thursday’s report, the decision ensures “an affordable location for the next 6 years.”

The VLA’s relocation fulfills the first of four renewal conditions set out by the Charter Commission in February.The first condition required the VLA to take action on its financial default by July 1.

I

But with the move comes another shift: Noteboom accepted a position as federal programs director with the State Department of Education, which he’ll begin in July. The current administrator said the transition was unexpected, but he’s honored to be selected.

“I have full confidence in the VLA community to select a new leader to continue the momentum and success we have achieved thus far,” Noteboom wrote in an email to EdNews. “I’ve committed to completing the transition to the new facility over the summer and onboarding new leadership. We have achieved a great milestone with the resolution of the facility issues and VLA is set to continue to thrive.”

ProPublica, in conjunction with the Idaho Statesman, took a close at schools in Idaho, which spends less on education than any other state. Conditions for teaching and learning are terrible, in large part because the state requires a 2/3 majority to pass a bond issue. Does Idaho care about the rising generation? Does it care about its future?

Jan Bayer sank into the couch in the family room of her Bonners Ferry, Idaho, home and stared at her phone, nervously awaiting a call. Her twin teenage daughters were nearby, equally anxious.

It was election night in March 2022, and Bayer, the superintendent of the Boundary County School District in a remote part of Idaho on the Canadian border, had spent months educating voters about a bond that would raise property taxes to replace one of her district’s oldest and most dangerous buildings: Valley View Elementary School. Built just after World War II, the school was falling apart.

The walls were cracked. The pipes were disintegrating. The ceilings were water-stained. The electrical system was maxed out and the insulation was nearly nonexistent. Classrooms froze in the winter and baked in the summer. The roof, part of which had already collapsed once, was nearing the end of its lifespan. Outside, potholes pocked the parking lot and deep splits formed in warped sidewalks. The kindergarten playground, weathered from decades of brutal winters, had turned hazardous; at times, sharp screws protruded from some of the equipment, and kids routinely got splinters from the wooden crossbeams.

Most worrisome to Bayer and her staff: Kindergarten students had to cross a street multiple times a day just to navigate the sprawling six-building campus, a piecemeal attempt to add much-needed classroom space.

The bond promised to fix all that — if voters approved it.

“You’re just honestly praying for a miracle,” Bayer said. “I said a lot of prayers all day long, saying, ‘OK, we can do this. We can do this.’”

At about 8:30 p.m., a call came in from the county clerk. More than 2,000 people voted, and about 54% of them supported the bond, the clerk said. Bayer’s heart sank and she broke into tears. In Idaho, a majority wasn’t enough. The state is one of just two in the nation that require support from two-thirds of voters to pass a bond.

Bayer shared the results with the school board, school staff and the facilities committee. Over the next several hours, she received calls and messages from community members. They told her to keep fighting. So she did. The district put another bond on the ballot in August, and students rallied to support it. On Election Day, the high school football team even stood on the bridge over the Kootenai River and held yellow signs that read “Vote Yes for Kids,” hoping to persuade voters as they drove to the Boundary County Fairgrounds to cast their votes. But the second bond fared worse. Just over 40% of voters backed the new measure, which hit the ballot as residents received a notice that their property assessments were going to rise and voters were worried about tax increases. “It went down in a ball of flames,” Bayer wrote to the school board.

Boundary County School District Superintendent Jan Bayer points out that part of an exterior wall of a school building is made of glass blocks painted blue, which are not efficient for heating and cooling. The rest of the building is made of cinder blocks that came from a naval training station that was decommissioned in the 1940s.

No other state spends less on education per student than Idaho, according to a recent report from the U.S. Census Bureau, which surveys and ranks school finance systems. It also ranks last in the nation in terms of school infrastructure spending per pupil, a state report shows. So over the past several decades, rural districts across the state have faced the same challenge as Bayer: To improve or replace aging — and sometimes dangerous — facilities, they must appeal to local taxpayers and clear some of the nation’s most restrictive thresholds for school funding. Despite urgent needs, most of these efforts fail, an investigation by the Idaho Statesman and ProPublica has found. As a result, students across the state must learn amid dire conditions.

In one Idaho school, the foundation is crumbling. In another, so few bathrooms serve hundreds of kids that students have soiled themselves, according to school officials and local media. And in yet another, a portion of a roof recently failed during off-hours, sending water flooding into a classroom and bathrooms, destroying books and temporarily limiting learning space.

Since 2006, districts have mounted 217 bond attempts to remedy these types of problems and accommodate growing student populations. Had Idaho required only a majority of voters to support the measures — the threshold in most states — 83% of them would have passed. Instead, just 44% were approved, according to an analysis of bond measures and election data by the news organizations.

Please open the link and read this story. It makes you wonder whether the public cares about education and students. People complain about test scores but all too often they are unwilling to pay for an up-to-date school system. Charters and vouchers are a pointless diversion. They guarantee that the public schools attended by most students will be impoverished and under-resources.

The Idaho legislature turned down a voucher expansion that would have subsidized the tuition of rich kids. Behind the voucher defeat was a passionate network of parents determined to keep public dollars in public schools.

Peter Greene reports:

Last year, Idaho’s legislature passed a limited school voucher bill; this year school voucher supporters raised a more expansive proposal that was just defeated by Republicans.

Last year’s Empowering Parents Grant Program used $50 million of American Rescue Plan recovery money to give education vouchers to families. It limited the education savings account (ESA) vouchers to students who were already enrolled in public schools and whose families had an income equal to or less than 250% of the free or reduced lunch cut-off.

That program was established on a modest scale. This year voucher supporters proposed a larger, more universal form.

Senate Bill 1038 included no income limits and no requirements for previously attending public school. In other words, a wealthy family who had always enrolled their children in private school or home school would get $6,000 of taxpayer money, and that money would be pulled from the funding for schools that the students had never attended in the first place; the school’s funding would be reduced, but their operating costs would not.

Like most of the current boilerplate ESA bills, it not only failed to provide for oversight for those funds, but actively barred the state from exercising any oversight or authority over the education providers.

There was a huge price tag involved. While the bill’s sponsors estimated a $45 million price tag for the first year, other estimates suggested that the programwould quickly balloon to over $360 million. That expansion would match the experience of other states like New Hampshire, where the predicted cost of the program quickly grew by 5,800%.

As Senator C, Scott Grow (R-Eagle) put it, “I have absolutely no clue what the dollar amount on this is.”

It’s a huge amount of taxpayer money to be taken out of the public school system and distributed without oversight or accountability, and while conservative lawmakers in some states have not balked at that issue, some Idaho GOP members were not having it. Reported the Idaho Statesman:

“It’s actually against my conservative, Republican perspective to hand this money out with no accountability that these precious tax dollars are being used wisely,” said Sen. Dave Lent, R-Idaho Falls…

Three more voucher bills also failed.

Two GOP representatives, Greg Lanting and Lorei McCann, explained their no votes:

McCann and Lanting both said for every email supporting ESA legislation, they receive five opposing it. Lanting represents the same district as Clow.Rep. Mark Sauter, R-Sandpoint, said voting for the legislation would be equivalent to voting against his constituency.