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Low-Wealth Schools Suit Marks Sixth Year in Court

On a July day six years ago, she'd sat by her father's side, talking about her future. Vandaliah Thompson was in the eighth grade, and she took after her father, Angus Thompson. He'd always had an interest in music and the arts, and his daughter was beginning to excel at the clarinet.

She was lucky. In Robeson County, her Carroll Middle School was newer than most. Some local schools, says Thompson, a native of the area, were built not long after the Depression.

This summer, Vandaliah Thompson has grown into a young woman working in a department store and about to return for her second year at N.C. State University in Raleigh. But some things haven't changed.

The sluggish Lumber and Big Swamp rivers still wind through Robeson County, the people are still poorer than most and North Carolina is still mired in court, attempting to determine how to fairly put schools like Vandaliah Thompson's on a more equal footing with wealthier ones that have more of everything, from experienced teachers to lab equipment.

Meanwhile, says her father, one of the original parents who sued, “The gap between us and everybody else is as wide as ever.”

After thousands of courtroom hours, poor school districts and the state remain at loggerheads. But two points stand clear. Barring unexpected intervention by the coming General Assembly, the case will drag on through appeals and other maneuvers for months — and possibly years — to come.

However, says Mike Ward, state superintendent of public instruction, “We don't have to be sitting around waiting for a final resolution.”

The state contends current allocation of resources provides all students a good education and meets constitutional minimums, although, adds Ward, he's not satisfied with minimums and he nor others dispute that gaps exist.

Ward says efforts to close them should include increased General Assembly appropriations for the state's Low-Wealth School Fund, plus a supplemental fund for small school districts, together now totaling about $100 million a year.

On the second point, most agree the lawsuit has the potential to dramatically alter how North Carolina divides its education money.

“It'll be one of the most important decisions in history in terms of school finance for North Carolina,” adds Mitch Tyler, superintendent of Hoke County schools.

As a principal there six years ago, the parents of one of his students, Robert Leandro, helped launch the lawsuit. “The only guarantee is that it's not going to be settled any time soon,” Tyler says.

In the latest action a few months ago, Judge Howard Manning in Wake County Superior Court began reviewing hundreds of pages of briefs from both sides, each suggesting what, if anything, the state should do differently.

Both the state and school districts indicate they'll appeal if they lose.

Robeson, Cumberland, Vance, Halifax and Hoke have agreed to let Hoke be the judicial test, although the lawsuit is still widely known as the Leandro case — after Tyler's former student.

Leandro's parents, along with the Thompsons and eight other families, first took their challenge to court in 1994. Two years later, the state Court of Appeals ruled against them, declaring that the constitution requires only equal access to schools, not necessarily equal funding.

The seemingly thin distinction dated to 1970, when North Carolina amended its constitution to end racial discrimination, deleting “separate but equal” in favor of “equal opportunities” for all students.

Then to complicate matters, wealthier school systems, including Charlotte-Mecklenburg, Asheville, Winston-Salem-Forsyth County and Buncombe, Durham and Wake counties, jumped into the Leandro fray, contending that they too needed more state resources to deal with poverty, floods of immigrants and homelessness.

But the heart of the issue remains North Carolina's longstanding school funding model.

The state gives school districts most of what they need for instruction, based on enrollment, but leaves capital expenses to local governments that give schools as much money as they can muster for other purposes.

How much depends largely on the tax base of the city or county in which the district is located. Statewide, local supplements might vary from $400 or so a year per student in Hoke, to $4,000 a year or more in counties like Wake and Mecklenburg.

North Carolina isn't alone in grappling with the issue. According to the Education Commission of the States, a nonprofit organization based in Denver, Colo., more than 40 states have had similar policies challenged.

That's how it all started, back in 1994 when Kathleen Leandro says she was so concerned about the condition of her son's Hoke County school bus that she drove behind it to make sure he arrived safely. Today, Robert Leandro, like Vandaliah Thompson, is in college, at Duke University on an academic scholarship.

But as months have dragged into years, notes Edwin Speas Jr., senior deputy attorney general, a subtle turn in Leandro arguments has emerged. Gradually, focus has shifted from funding levels to educational results.

That shift was pivotal in 1997 when the N.C. Supreme Court overruled the appeals court, saying students have a right to a sound, basic education, dollars and cents aside. Justice Burley Mitchell defined that education as one that gives students the opportunity to succeed in life, writing and speaking well, competing for jobs and pursuing higher education if they choose.

Critics of the traditional funding system say Mitchell's mandate requires greater funding, not less, for students in poor districts, because they often lack home and community resources conducive to learning.

Tyler has seen the issue from both sides. He grew up in Robeson County, taught school and was a principal in Hoke, and then, while studying for his doctorate at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, interned in the affluent Orange County system.

He served as Ward's assistant in Raleigh before going to Cumberland County as an assistant superintendent. He returned to Hoke recently to become superintendent there, again on the opposite side of the question from his former boss.



To teachers, parents and administrators in low-wealth counties, Tyler's complaints about how the state allocates school resources are familiar: With a half-percentage-point local supplement, compared to four percent and higher supplements in surrounding counties, he says he can't recruit experienced teachers, equip schools and offer advanced-placement courses.

“When our kids get ready to take end-of-grade or end-of-course tests, we struggle because we don't have enough calculators to go around,” he says. “That's the kind of resource for which we shouldn't have to go begging.”

Last year, he adds, Hoke had about 50 teaching vacancies, out of some 400 positions. “If you're at career day talking with a prospective teacher, but the guy in the booth next to you offers $2,300 a year more because of the local supplement, the teacher will go with the higher supplement.”

Tyler and John Dornan, executive director of the N.C. Public School Forum, an independent education research group, say the difference forces poor counties to recruit new and inexperienced teachers from out of state. But in revolving-door fashion, they jump to better-paying and more urban systems where they can continue their education, as soon as they gain experience.

“A teacher from Hoke can drive up the road to Wake and get a $4,000 raise,” says Dornan, who testified as an expert witness for the suing districts. “Low-wealth counties are farm clubs for the more affluent systems.”

Attorneys for the state and officials of the Department of Public Instruction see matters differently.

In court, they've contended that more than money makes an education. “It began as a funding case, but it's no longer that simple,” says Speas.

In testimony, some of which recently retired Hoke superintendent Don Steed concedes was “painful,” the state has contended that poor teacher training and certification, quality of curriculum and other factors contribute to low standardized test scores and poor college performance by Hoke students.

“Although the (state) Board of Education, the Department of Public Instruction and the General Assembly all believe we can improve, our position is that the system we have certainly meets the constitutional minimum,” adds Speas. He describes the essence of the Leandro case as “the search for a constitutional floor.”

Meanwhile, Ward, the state superintendent, says his department isn't standing still as the case bobs slowly along the judicial stream.

“I certainly think we've got to return to the legislature in the biennial session with a request for more resources to get at the inequities,” he says. That would be additional funding for the low-wealth fund, but also funds for to pump up districts where students do poorly, regardless of wealth.

That'll be doubly important next year, he adds, when the state begins implementing new promotion standards. “They'll say kids have to be academically proficient to be promoted,” he says. “It's not rocket science to know that doing otherwise cheats kids and their communities, but it could also be very punitive if we don't invest in extra support for kids who need it most.”

The politics of Leandro? Few expect a radical redistribution of dollars, such as in Texas, where a plan to shift property taxes from areas like Dallas and Fort Worth to poor south Texas created a political firestorm.

But while open to new ways of leveling allocation of resources, Ward says the Department of Public Instruction is wary of doing it by court fiat.

“We're asked if we'll appeal a ruling that goes against the state, as if we're not interested in helping poor counties,” he says.

“But a lot depends on the ruling itself. If the court imposes an incredibly prescriptive formula, we are just about obligated to appeal, because the Board of Education, legislature and Department of Public Instruction have a much better capacity to adapt and respond to education priorities than the courts.”

He cites the current six-year odyssey of Leandro as an example, and on that score, he may not get an argument from opponents. —Edward Martin

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