It was supposed to be the best of times. It was the worst of times.

Miss Olsen, English teacher at Lehi High School, eagerly awaited May 23 for yearbook signing. A beloved teacher at the high school, students were also excited to meet with their favorite teacher one more time.

Lockdown.

Lights off, huddled in a silent corner of her classroom with her students, they were later police-escorted into the library until the school was evacuated to a nearby church then sent home. No yearbook signing, no photos, no bittersweet goodbyes, but rather one unceremonious “leave now.”

This is education in America.

Globally, education is considered a human right and plays a crucial role in human, social and economic development. Within a quality education, the student is provided with the tools for critical thinking, opportunities for normative social functioning and group dynamic navigation, and the foundations necessary to possibly one day find careers and personal excellence within their avenues of choice.

However, our children are taught to fear the unknown, see and envy the unattainable, and how to protect themselves against active shooters. These lessons are both explicit and implied, but the message is clear: Be wary. We’re not OK.

The stark contrast in educational quality within our nation not only varies from state to state, but by district within the same city. It is a disparity in parts — incongruence being the common factor within our nation’s public education system. Neither equality nor equity can be proved within our state and country.

According to the U.S. Department of Education’s budget report from 2022, the overall funding (federal, state and local) for all TK-12 education programs was $128.6 billion, with a per-pupil spending rate of $22,893. How this budget parsing truly breaks down stymies even the most seasoned economists. Yes, there is an allocation per student within the funding, but that does not result in equanimity between every district. What we know: Public education in America isn’t free. Secondary public education betrays this budget per student as parents are required to foot the bill upward of $200 annually per child for the bare minimum, let alone the additional fees that extracurricular activities produce.

Education is a human right, but add in the financial conditionals of extracurriculars, district expenditures and the local demography — and we know that an educational “caste system” is all too obvious in America. Children are classed into the haves and the have-nots. They know who has more, who has better, and the psychological damage can last into adulthood. Education is a human right, yes, and as such every child deserves the same level of intervention, access to programs and effective classroom management by properly funded teachers.

Parsity prevails in districts where parents cannot afford the time or money to get involved, which then leads to less family migration into those areas. This has a snowball effect on both swings of the pendulum as the richer districts get richer and the poorer districts, while getting additional federal grants with a ticker-tape-parade-sized reporting system, still fail to attract the educators and families they need. One district will suffer alongside another which has better housing, more affluence, and everyone knows it. We all know the schools that underperform despite Title I funding and teachers who are exhausted from constant fighting for the children under their watch. It is easy to feel impotent as a citizen as we watch our nation’s public education system crumble from turf wars, budget gaffes and gun violence.

Having lived coast to coast, my children have been enrolled in five different school districts from Virginia to California. I have experienced firsthand the stark contrast in education as my children have been both ahead and behind academically, dependent on the location where we lived. While the United States is a vast union of culturally distinct states, having a U.S. Department of Education should rectify some of the inconsistency prevalent in the quality of schooling our children receive. Why is it failing?

I wanted to be a part of the change, so I became a teacher. Daily, I came to my classroom armed with empathic listening, tight classroom management and love for every child, especially the “hard” kids. I communicated and connected with parents. I was the teacher who exhausted every venue personally and professionally for my preschool students. I watched helplessly as budget volatility dictated what I could provide for the classroom, so I used my own money constantly. Concerns would be systematically heard-then-pushed-aside for administrative checklists that took precedence over department quality. I felt ignored, burned out, and I had nothing left to give my own family out of exhaustion. I cared. I cried. I cared some more. I cried some more. Then, mid-semester, I quit. I learned I was one among thousands of overspent and burned-out teachers who quit after winter break. I felt vindicated yet at the same time immensely sad. Teachers are exhausted. They feel this disparity in parts more deeply than the anguished citizens who stand up begging for change. We desperately need change for our teachers and our children.

What can we do about it?

Nothing.

Unless we hit the polls in the primaries. The quality and consistency of education in America is directly correlated to voter apathy. Failing our children lies at the root of the issue: we need better policymakers who can see the parts of the whole while exacting change congressionally.

What can we do about it?

Vote.

Take your vote to the polls this coming election armed with substantial research, not conjecture based on opinions bandied about on social media. If every citizen of our nation would employ critical-thinking skills and dig for proof of product, perhaps those school districts that need new life breathed into them, with quality and care of every child, will become reality. Education in America is in critical status.

Do you want change?

Vote.

Every child deserves better. After all, it is a human right.

Born and raised under the shadow of Mount Timpanogos, Camille Heckmann is relieved to be back in Utah County. Grad school dropout, former Army wife, mother to four kids and 21 moves during my adult life have provided enough texture to observe and write about the human condition. Divorce and personal tragedy keep the disco ball lit up.

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