For more than 42 years, I have had the privilege of serving children, families, and communities in both public and Catholic schools as a teacher and administrator. I have seen firsthand how teachers shape young people and prepare them for life’s opportunities and challenges.
My own family has lived this journey. Our children and grandchildren attended both public and Catholic schools, enriching their lives and ours. Lifelong friendships were built through academics, arts, and athletics. Along the way, I worked with countless educators in both systems who cared deeply about their students.
At their best, public and private schools share a mission: nurturing the potential of every child and instilling values of hard work, respect, service, and belonging. But Idaho’s public schools now face a significant challenge from House Bill 93 (HB 93), legislation that echoes constitutional debates I recall from the 1990s while serving as Superintendent of Catholic Schools.
In those years, our diocese explored vouchers and tax credits. Still, Idaho’s underfunded public schools left legislators reluctant to pursue measures that raised constitutional concerns or would hamper funding to public education. Today, HB 93 changes that dynamic. The bill provides a refundable tax credit of up to $5,000 per child for private school tuition, with a $50 million annual cost. These funds must be “found” elsewhere, likely impacting an already underfunded public education system.
The dangers are clear. At a recent Osher Institute for Lifelong Learning presentation, experts from the Idaho Center for Fiscal Policy and the Idaho School Boards Association outlined the probable negative impact of HB 93. Idaho already ranks 50th in per-student funding. Redirecting $50 million to private education will deepen the gap and leave public schools struggling even more.
Public schools carry responsibilities private schools cannot address. They welcome every child—regardless of ability, background, or circumstance. Private schools, while valuable, cannot accommodate all students, especially those with significant special education needs. Public schools also serve children who lack family support, providing the stability and care that some students find nowhere else.
I saw this reality most vividly as a sixth-grade public school teacher and later as an administrator. Many of my students came from homes where survival, not learning, was the priority. Some worried about their next meal. Others carried the burdens of poverty, broken families, or abuse. I can still see the faces of children who wore the same clothes for days, fell asleep in class from exhaustion, or lashed out in anger to mask their pain.
Teaching those students went far beyond math or reading lessons. It meant being a steady adult presence when life offered little stability. Sometimes it meant quietly listening before a child could focus on learning. Often, it meant showing patience and consistency so they knew someone cared. For many, school wasn’t just academics—it was safety, belonging, and hope.
My colleagues shared this commitment, despite the demands of serving every child. Public school teachers often take on multiple roles—educator, counselor, mentor—without the resources or recognition they deserve. Their efforts reminded me daily that education is more than instruction; it is the work of building futures.
That truth remains today. School choice already exists, and families are free to pursue it. The vitality of public education must be preserved. Public schools are the backbone of our democracy and the foundation of opportunity for every child.
While serving at the Idaho Department of Education 27 years ago, I recall a sign that hung in our hallway: “The truly effective schools are those which do the most for those students most in need.” That message once guided Idaho’s approach to equity, funding, and accountability. It was a bipartisan understanding that the strength of our public schools lies in their ability to serve all children.
I hope that message will resonate again.
