Tom Farber had three choices. The California teacher could pay for paper to print his students' tests on himself. He could cut out the practice sheets he's traditionally given the kids to help them bone up on their math skills.
Or he could sell advertising space on the math tests.
The school budget was so tight this year, the nine-year veteran in education chose option three. He told parents on open house night this year that they could buy a line on the bottom of the sheets he'll hand out to his one hundred sixty-seven students this year. Space on a quiz went for $10; $20 for a test sheet and $30 for the end-of-semester exam. In one night, he raked in $270.54. That's just 54 cents over the amount he's estimated he'll spend on the nine thousand eighteen pieces of paper necessary to get through the year. It's just over $112 more than he was allotted by the school district for paper costs this year.
I'm sure there are parents reading this who drew in their breath with shock. But I say good for him. Because a teacher's job is to educate his (or her) students. How they manage that with a funding shortfall sometimes makes me wonder if part of the master's of education degree is a course in witchcraft. And yet, as a taxpayer in the state reported to have the highest property taxes in the nation (New Yorkers fund schools through property taxes), I'll admit I struggle with the raising school budgets year after year.
In states where taxpayers are feeling like stones being squeezed for yet another pint of blood, the funding has to come from somewhere for the sake of the kids. And the answer isn't in making kids sell more oranges and wrapping paper . . . to the taxpayers. So what's wrong with selling advertising? In Farber's case, parents could fund inspirational slogans on the bottom of a test paper or businesspeople could put in a promo. The money ensured the kids still got their practice sheets. At the very least, the money was benefitting the kids on an academic level.
Now think about how many advertisements get thrown at our kids inside a school building without one single dime actually benefitting the district, and therefore not helping the kids' education. Do the teen boys get a flyer from the local formalwear shop come prom season? Is there a brand name on the basketball they bounce during gym class? How about on the milk carton at lunch or the cereal box at breakfast? As ubiquitous as branding is in our society, there's little we can do to protect our kids - even in a school building. Yet little of that advertising benefits anyone besides the company selling its products.
So did Tom Farber really do anything wrong?
Image: Arts Journal
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