Amid teacher shortages across the West, it would appear market forces are picking up the slack in some areas. Take Canyons School District, outside Salt Lake City, where Ashley Lennox and her husband, both employees, stand to get a collective pay raise of more than $15,000 next year. “That means that we can buy a house,” she said.
This year, Canyons and its teachers union agreed to a $7,665 pay increase, which will bump starting salaries to $50,000 — the second highest in the state. Since then, five other Wasatch Front districts joined what local news outlets quickly dubbed a “bidding war,” boosting starting pay in those districts to at least $44,000 in a state where teachers make an average of $47,600 — no matter how many years they’ve been at it.
Lennox, who was a classroom teacher for 10 years before becoming an achievement coach who mentors newer teachers, said the bump is particularly important for those just entering the field.
“My first contract was $29,000,” she said. “So to go from, within 10 years, that starting contract being $29,000 to $50,000 — that’s huge.”
But more pay doesn’t necessarily mean enough pay, and these hikes are funded by an increase in local property taxes, a mechanism that is out of reach for many low-income and rural districts. So what does the bidding war Canyons started represent?
Utah has long had a teacher shortage, due in no small part to a lack of state funding for schools. According to the latest census data, Utah spent $7,179 per student in 2017, the lowest figure in the country and well below the national average of $12,201. (Utah lawmakers increased spending 4 percent this year.) That lack of funds has a big impact on those in charge of classrooms. According to a report on teacher compensation by the Utah Foundation, about 15 percent of Utah teachers leave the field after just one year, and 39 percent leave after five years. At the same time, few college students are choosing to become teachers. According to another report, 1,672 more Utah teachers quit than joined the field in 2016.
“What we know is our teachers are leaving at year five,” Lennox said. “Right when they’re crossing this hill, feeling confident, feeling good about their jobs, they’re not feeling valued enough to stay anymore.”
Other Western states with low education funding face similar issues. Joining Utah in the bottom tier of state education funding are Idaho, Arizona, Nevada, Colorado, and New Mexico — all of which are experiencing teacher shortages. A state judge recently ruled New Mexico’s low funding violated its state constitution. Alas, teachers — many in the aforementioned states — have gone on strike, taking to the streets to call not just for pay raises, but for the state to fund newer facilities, in-school social workers and nurses, and other fundamental aspects of education.
But when funding is left to property-tax levies instead of the state, it can further the divide between wealthy districts and poor ones. The Utah Foundation found that starting salaries at Utah districts varies nearly 40 percent; the gap between neighboring North Summit and Park City districts, both outside of Salt Lake City, is about $13,000.
Kari Overall, president of the Idaho Education Association, said this setup can lead teachers to defect to “destination districts” that pay better because they have a larger property-tax base. “In order to get a raise, [teachers] may have to leave a district they love and may want to continue teaching in,” she told IdahoEdNews. Complicating this matter, though, are rising housing prices — destination districts, after all, command a higher cost of living, leaving teachers with a relatively meager salary virtually anywhere they turn.
Some Western statehouses this year have made incremental changes. Idaho’s legislature enacted a statewide salary floor of $40,000 that will go into effect in the 2020-21 school year, and Arizona boosted teacher pay 5 percent. Colorado put money toward free full-day kindergarten. But without widespread funding increases, some teachers feel the pay hikes districts are scraping together won’t be enough.
Barbara Antonetti is vice president of the teachers association in Granite School District, one of the Utah districts that saw a pay hike. In addition to this year’s increase, Granite adopted an 11.6 percent pay hike in 2017, when it had more than 300 vacancies. Both these raises “are great,” Antonetti said, “but it’s not enough. Not until my classroom is fully funded, and the kids’ needs are met.” Antonetti, who teaches elementary, said she spent around $1,600 of her own money on classroom supplies last year.
These incremental raises won’t be enough to fully stem the loss of teachers to other fields, either. According to the Economic Policy Institute, public-school teachers make 18.7 percent less than other professionals with similar education levels. “To address teacher shortages,” the report reads, “it is necessary to focus on both recruiting and retaining high-quality teachers … [P]roviding appropriate compensation is a necessary, major tool in addressing shortages.”
To Antonetti, it boils down to a perception by the public and legislators that teachers are fairly compensated when, in fact, their responsibilities extend far beyond the lesson plan. “People went to school, so they think they know what a teacher does,” she said. “And they just don’t.”
Lennox, the Canyons achievement coach, has seen myriad coworkers leave the profession for either better-paying jobs in the private sector or to raise a family; sending multiple kids to daycare can cost more than a teacher earns. But the pay raises in Utah districts, coupled with a broader national discussion about teacher pay, have her feeling optimistic.
“Teachers are starting to recognize their own value,” Lennox said. “Ultimately, it’s up to the state, the district, and the taxpayers to decide to bankroll that, but teachers are starting to speak out and say, ‘OK, you think you know what I do, but let me tell you what I actually do.’ I think it’s very powerful.”
