(no subject)
This past Monday, my city had the first of two scheduled furlough days for this fiscal year, an attempt to save some cash in a horrifyingly bad fiscal year. I feel for the employees that are losing a day's pay (though I'm still trying to wrap my head around someone losing $200-$300 for missing one day of work. Personally, I wouldn't lose quite that much. . .)
But on Tuesday, there was an article in the paper that just about sent me over the edge. Various citizens were interviewed about all the inconveniences that the day caused them, since they didn't know city offices would be closed. The following comment had me yelling at the paper. This was said in reference to the libraries being closed: "I don't think the public ought to suffer like this" The quote was said by a homeless woman. You know, someone who doesn't pay taxes. Which enables things like the library to be open. And have books and computers in it.
The economy is in bad shape. We all know that. And government budgets are certainly taking a big hit. My city is looking at a $190 million shortfall. And I know that I'm part of the problem, in a way. Last year, my house was appraised at $21,000 more than what I paid for it. I protested and am being taxed at the sales price (even though the improvements that I've made have probably made it worth that initial appraisal value, if not more). But I also chose to live in the city, where the taxes are higher, rather than a suburb, because I love the library. I love the rec centers. I believe in my city, even as it keeps disappointing me.
At the museum, we get about 20% of our operating budget from the city. We have an unusual agreement with the city, in which they own the structures and the land on which we sit, while we operate the museum. Right now, the current budget proposal has the department through which we get our funding dissolving and becoming a part of the libraries. Now, as I said above, I love libraries, but libraries and museums are very different animals. We're also looking at a huge cut--probably six figures, or close to 10% of our budget. In a year in which our two biggest fundraisers performed far below budget.
And folks continue to complain. We regulary hear people commenting about the state of some of our buildings. And I agree, we need more maintenance money (technically the city's responsibility). It's not happening. Or they talk about the "good old days" The conversations that start "You guys used to. . . why don't you any more?" Well, the days when everything was like that were the same days when the city funded between 80% and 85% of our budget.
So to all those people that are confusd as to why city services aren't automatically there, I'd like to say the following:
Get used to it. It's about to get much worse. The libraries are about to have their operating hours cut in half. 311 hours are being cut. Your cultural institutions are about to have their budgets gutted. These services you've come to expect are not a right, but a privilege. A privilege that we have to pay for. I'm not a fan of higher taxes either, but these things are important to me and so I'm willing to pay for it. And the people that complain the loudest are probably the same ones that have been fighting any efforts to balance the city budget.
* * * * *
Last week was a busy programming week for us. We had day cares visit the museum. We had two outreach programs. The first was at Head-Start. I was reading "John, George, Paul and Ben" about the founding fathers and one little girl asked me "But where are all the girls?" I stammered something about "They're in a different book," but thought to myself "Oh honey, when you're older, I'll explain. . ."
At the library program, there was a mom and two kids. I invited the mom to make a tri-cornered hat with her kids. She hesitated for a few minutes, but then gave in, got on the floor, and made the most amazing hat. I said something to her about her inner child and she replied "I guess when they're doing craft projects, I'm used to having to clean up so I never have fun."
And on Saturday, we had our Old-Fashioned Fourth event. It was hotter than Hades, but it was a great day. We had a few families set up a spot in the shade that stayed all day--sometimes their picnic blankets were crowded, and sometimes there were just one or two people there. We did a stick pony rodeo--one family came at both 11 and 1. Apparently, the little boy kept asking "when can we go back?" in the interim. He must have run the rodeo 15 times--in 100+ heat. We had folks visiting with our interpreters, cranking ice cream, playing games. We had a huge turnout of junior historians there to help--and two of them turned out to be old friends who were able to reconnect through us!
It was one of those weeks that makes my little educator heart very, very happy. We're doing some really good things, but money is making it much, much harder. We've built things up so nicely over the last few years, but I'm afraid the economy will crush all of our growth. And who suffers in the end? Everyone. So all this success is very bittersweet, because the future looks so grim.
But on Tuesday, there was an article in the paper that just about sent me over the edge. Various citizens were interviewed about all the inconveniences that the day caused them, since they didn't know city offices would be closed. The following comment had me yelling at the paper. This was said in reference to the libraries being closed: "I don't think the public ought to suffer like this" The quote was said by a homeless woman. You know, someone who doesn't pay taxes. Which enables things like the library to be open. And have books and computers in it.
The economy is in bad shape. We all know that. And government budgets are certainly taking a big hit. My city is looking at a $190 million shortfall. And I know that I'm part of the problem, in a way. Last year, my house was appraised at $21,000 more than what I paid for it. I protested and am being taxed at the sales price (even though the improvements that I've made have probably made it worth that initial appraisal value, if not more). But I also chose to live in the city, where the taxes are higher, rather than a suburb, because I love the library. I love the rec centers. I believe in my city, even as it keeps disappointing me.
At the museum, we get about 20% of our operating budget from the city. We have an unusual agreement with the city, in which they own the structures and the land on which we sit, while we operate the museum. Right now, the current budget proposal has the department through which we get our funding dissolving and becoming a part of the libraries. Now, as I said above, I love libraries, but libraries and museums are very different animals. We're also looking at a huge cut--probably six figures, or close to 10% of our budget. In a year in which our two biggest fundraisers performed far below budget.
And folks continue to complain. We regulary hear people commenting about the state of some of our buildings. And I agree, we need more maintenance money (technically the city's responsibility). It's not happening. Or they talk about the "good old days" The conversations that start "You guys used to. . . why don't you any more?" Well, the days when everything was like that were the same days when the city funded between 80% and 85% of our budget.
So to all those people that are confusd as to why city services aren't automatically there, I'd like to say the following:
Get used to it. It's about to get much worse. The libraries are about to have their operating hours cut in half. 311 hours are being cut. Your cultural institutions are about to have their budgets gutted. These services you've come to expect are not a right, but a privilege. A privilege that we have to pay for. I'm not a fan of higher taxes either, but these things are important to me and so I'm willing to pay for it. And the people that complain the loudest are probably the same ones that have been fighting any efforts to balance the city budget.
* * * * *
Last week was a busy programming week for us. We had day cares visit the museum. We had two outreach programs. The first was at Head-Start. I was reading "John, George, Paul and Ben" about the founding fathers and one little girl asked me "But where are all the girls?" I stammered something about "They're in a different book," but thought to myself "Oh honey, when you're older, I'll explain. . ."
At the library program, there was a mom and two kids. I invited the mom to make a tri-cornered hat with her kids. She hesitated for a few minutes, but then gave in, got on the floor, and made the most amazing hat. I said something to her about her inner child and she replied "I guess when they're doing craft projects, I'm used to having to clean up so I never have fun."
And on Saturday, we had our Old-Fashioned Fourth event. It was hotter than Hades, but it was a great day. We had a few families set up a spot in the shade that stayed all day--sometimes their picnic blankets were crowded, and sometimes there were just one or two people there. We did a stick pony rodeo--one family came at both 11 and 1. Apparently, the little boy kept asking "when can we go back?" in the interim. He must have run the rodeo 15 times--in 100+ heat. We had folks visiting with our interpreters, cranking ice cream, playing games. We had a huge turnout of junior historians there to help--and two of them turned out to be old friends who were able to reconnect through us!
It was one of those weeks that makes my little educator heart very, very happy. We're doing some really good things, but money is making it much, much harder. We've built things up so nicely over the last few years, but I'm afraid the economy will crush all of our growth. And who suffers in the end? Everyone. So all this success is very bittersweet, because the future looks so grim.