Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Harriet’s reminder that the PTA president wanted to speak at the meeting smacked him square in the forehead.
He’d never even bothered to ask what the person’s name was.
His gut sank, and he realized his own hubris in thinking this person didn’t warrant much thought because he’d find a way to meet in the middle and everything would be fine.
But looking at the visual daggers Janae was throwing his way, it was obvious that things for damn sure were not going to be fine.
“While we understand the district’s need to tighten its belt, what we don’t understand is why the arts program is the only extracurricular program that’s being cut from the district’s offerings.”
He took a deep breath, trying to get his head back in the game. He could see the school board president, Dr. Brent, staring at him from his peripheral vision. He couldn’t mess this up, not even for Janae.
“From the information that’s been distributed,” Janae continued. “It doesn’t seem that you’re taking anything from the sports program budget. For instance, the football program’s budget is four times that of the arts program.”
“You’re right, Dr. Sanders.”
Her eyes flashed at the use of her honorific. She hadn’t used it herself, but he wanted her to know that he respected her as a professional and a member of the district’s community. Yeah, he’d been dismissive when the person was anonymous. He’d been an asshole for thinking that way. He’d correct that right now.
“The football program is four times that of the arts program.”
“Thank you for substantiating that, Dr. Henderson. With so much surplus, why not take a fraction of the football budget and use it to help keep the arts program running?”
He mulled over the answer and knew no matter how he attempted to sugarcoat it, his response was going to tick her off.
“Because the football program brings in profit. The arts program, unfortunately, does not.”
He’d give her credit. She took that hit and didn’t even flinch, just continued.
“That program is the only arts feeder program this area has for our students to get into specialty schools like the New York School of Performing and Fashion Arts. Without this program, you’re essentially killing our kids’ chances at pursuing careers in the arts. Why should that be acceptable for the arts kids when the students in the football program still have a pathway to making their dreams come true? Are you saying that sports are more important than the arts?”
That question got the audience rumbling, and the school board president’s pointed stare became a full-blown head turn. She covered the microphone with her hand and leaned in to speak to Adam.
“Get this under control, Dr. Henderson. The last thing we need is Janae Sanders stirring up trouble for this district.”
He nodded and leaned into the mic.
“Dr. Sanders. We want every student in this district to have a chance at pursuing their academic and professional dreams. But we can’t borrow from one program to support another.”
He watched Janae take a deep breath, preparing for her next point. Before she could speak, he held up his hand and continued.
“It pains me to have to close down the program. But unless we have other means of funding, there is no way the district can support it.”
The crowd began to groan and rumble and Adam knew things would get out of control soon if he didn’t do something, so he did the only thing he could do.
“But the district is willing to explore other external avenues of funding. We’d be grateful if the PTA would work closely with us in trying to find alternative means to keep the program running.”
The room went up in thunderous applause and although Adam was pleased, he could see the tense lines on Janae’s face indicating she wasn’t impressed in the least.
“Please understand, we cannot make any promises about the survival of the program. But I can promise that we will exhaust all viable avenues before we move forward with the closure.”
The meeting ended not long after, and as he was making his way down the stairs of the stage, the board president stopped him.
“Dr. Henderson. Do you really think it’s wise giving this community false hope? There is no money in the budget for this program.”
“I wasn’t peddling false hope. Dr. Sanders is right. We can’t support the dreams of some students and not all. Working with the PTA to secure external funding might be an option. If it fails, at least the community knows we tried. Either way, it doesn’t cost the district anything. Working with the community is better than shutting them down, don’t you think?”
The tight lines around the president’s pursed lips made it clear she wasn’t happy with his argument. But they both knew it was a sound one, and she couldn’t knock it down.
“You have a lot riding on your ability to get the budget under control. Just remember that as you attempt to pacify the parentsof this district. Unfortunately, we can’t save them all. And if you don’t get this budget under control, we won’t be able to save your job either.”
