His boss' plan includes cutting $250 million in grants for such programs as full-day kindergarten, giving $37 million less to Head Start, taking 9 percent out of autism-intervention services, and making 52 percent cuts in aid to Pennsylvania State University, the University of Pittsburgh, and Temple University.
Poorer school districts would be hurt the most, Tomalis admitted, and larger classes might result. Nevertheless, he maintained that the Corbett administration was committed to the "core mission" of public education.
Core, as in the gnawed-down middle of the teacher's apple.
Tomalis' best line was the one about the disconnect between Benjamins and achievement. In what other realm of American experience does money not measure success? Business? Sports? Entertainment? Orthopedic surgery?
Yet in the convoluted world of educational policy, studies can prove just about anything. Researchers have identified school districts that spend lavishly on their students yet fail to educate them. Other schools, despite beggarly budgets, produce annual crops of well-prepared scholars.
Great anecdotal material for anyone who wants to make a case for scaling back and paring down. But as the basis for sound public policy, a little shaky.
Funny thing about people who say money's not so important. They tend to have plenty of it themselves. And they don't send their children to schools where the windows are broken, art and music classes have been canceled, and the textbooks date from 1945.
Corbett sent his children to Catholic schools. Give him credit for loyalty. His idea for an educational fix is to give poor families the option of taking even more money out of their cash-strapped neighborhood schools and diverting it to their schools "of choice." Since it's just enough to afford a religious education, don't expect a mass transfer of Strawberry Mansion kids to schools like Friends Select.
