The problem isn’t the levy.
It’s the leadership that can’t imagine why anyone would vote against it.
I went to the Streetsboro Schools Finance Committee meeting last night.
That sentence alone will make some people roll their eyes. “You critics never show up,” they say. “You just post online.” But I did go, just as I did three times last year, because I believe in showing up, in open discussions, and in civil dialogue. I went because several of the online hecklers said I wouldn’t. I went because I wanted to see if I was missing something. I went to see if there was a convincing reason to vote “YES” on the levy instead of encouraging people to vote “NO.”
What I found was worse than I expected.
How many “YES” voters understand they’re not voting for stability, but for the first installment of perpetual tax increases?
A Room That Didn’t Want to Listen
Aside from two people who were genuinely respectful and open-minded (more on them later), my presence wasn’t exactly welcomed. I wasn’t disruptive. I wasn’t argumentative. I was there to listen and learn. But the tone in the room made one thing very clear: disagreement wasn’t tolerated. When the public can’t even attend a public meeting without hostility, that’s not democracy. That’s dysfunction.
The Real Deficit
I went into the meeting thinking the schools had a financial problem. What I discovered was much deeper. An engagement problem. A civility problem. A leadership problem. The discussion was less about solving challenges and more about blaming others and imagining worst-case scenarios if the levy fails. There was little empathy for residents, particularly the elderly, those on fixed incomes, or families already stretched thin by rising property taxes, inflation, and stagnant wages.
There was also a stunning lack of understanding from the top school leadership about statewide property tax reform efforts and what those changes could mean for local funding.
What I Learned
Several facts emerged that deserve wider circulation:
- This levy is only the beginning. Even if it passes, the district will require additional levies annually for the foreseeable future. This isn’t a solution; it’s a stopgap.
- Cuts continue regardless. Passage buys one year of breathing room, but still requires $1 million in annual cuts to maintain solvency.
- Future levies will be permanent. The district has signaled that subsequent requests will be “continuing” levies, meaning they never expire, never face renewal votes, and never require re-authorization.
As I mentioned earlier, How many “YES” voters understand they’re not voting for stability, but for the first installment of perpetual tax increases?
The Elephant in the Room
Much of the meeting centered on salaries and comparisons to other districts. But telling a community where many residents earn around $45,000 a year that higher-paid staff need more money, or that they should shoulder permanent tax increases to offset premium health plans, is tone-deaf at best.
The city has empty storefronts, infrastructure issues, and a tax base increasingly reliant on warehouse jobs that are slowly being automated out of existence. To suggest that higher school taxes will somehow fix all that is wishful thinking.
And the old “better schools mean higher property values” argument sounds empty when you realize that higher property values only mean higher property taxes. It’s particularly cruel when rising assessments are already forcing retirees from their homes. You only “realize” those values when you sell and leave. That’s not community building; it’s community displacement.
The Moment Everything Fell Apart
The turning point of the meeting occurred when the superintendent’s husband accused me of spreading misinformation, even though my data was obtained directly from the Ohio Department of Education’s public records. Every question he asked was not aimed at learning but rather seemed designed to disprove that everything I posted was “false.”
When I was finally given a chance to speak, I barely got through my opening before being shouted down. One attendee told me to stop talking. Another repeatedly demanded to know why I even moved here. Someone else just told me to leave.
That’s what we’ve become—a place where disagreement is treated as disloyalty.
How We Lost the Art of Listening
Public service means listening, especially to critics. In two decades of communications and public relations work, I’ve learned this fundamental truth: progress happens when you engage your opposition, not when you silence it.
Real community strength doesn’t come from unanimity. It comes from the hard work of building trust across disagreement. You don’t tax your way to trust. You earn it through radical transparency, genuine empathy, and sustained dialogue.
If school leadership wants community support, it must first show respect for the community. That means engaging every taxpayer, every homeowner, and every voice — not just the sympathetic ones.
Two Bright Spots
Before I left, two people —a veteran and a teacher —took the time to introduce themselves. We disagreed, but we listened. We talked like adults. We found common ground in our concern for this community.
Those two exchanges reminded me why I moved here. Because I still believe in the possibility of civil discourse.
Unfortunately, it was the exception, not the rule.
If the district wants more money, it needs to start by rebuilding trust. That begins at the top, with leaders who engage early, communicate often, and welcome opposing voices instead of trying to silence them. A newsletter a month before the election and a public meeting a week before the vote isn’t a strategy. It’s an afterthought. Until that changes, this levy, and any that follows, will face a community that’s not unwilling to support its schools but unwilling to be ignored by them.
The problem isn’t the levy. It’s the leadership that can’t imagine why anyone would vote against it.