ONCE, A SCHOOL DISTRICT TREASURER—

When I was tiring of an interesting political career the opportunity to become treasurer of the local school district came along. I accepted the appointment, thinking it would be a rewarding way to finish my working career.

Long prior to that event I had become acquainted with the phrase “functional illiteracy” used to describe high school graduates with poor skills to be productive in society.

Naturally, while I was the head bean counter for the district, my work put me in close contact with the public education process. Here is the signature event I experienced during my four year tenure:

One night at a school board meeting, the board adopted a new policy. Basically, it said all students had to maintain passing grades in order to be eligible for extracurricular activities.

“That’s fine,” I thought as I called the roll; at the same time wondering why, for goodness sake, this had not been their policy all along.

Actually, I was astounded as the meaning of this sank in.

Then, at the very next board meeting, under pressure from the community and some faculty members, the board, rescinded its action of the previous month.

I suffered my new astonishment in silence—I was employed by these people.

In effect, they had just returned to an old policy which said, effectively, failure is acceptable.

"Functional illiteracy?" No wonder.

I made no effort to renew my treasurer’s license and accepted a career promotion to driving a truck into retirement.