“Superior School District’s 8% Tax Hike: Welcome to the Ponzi Prep Academy”

Class Is in Session—And You’re Paying for the Teacher’s Lounge Jacuzzi

Just when you thought your property taxes were already being milked like a Wisconsin dairy cow with a Red Bull addiction, the Superior School District pulls out its favorite trick from the taxpayer torture toolbox: an 8% tax hike, and 20% less students.  Yes, eight percent—because apparently, education now costs more than a second mortgage, but delivers less than a broken vending machine.

“It’s for the Kids!” (Translation: “We’re Terrible at Math”)

You can almost hear the sad violin playing in the background as district officials trot out the human shield: “It’s for the children!”

But let’s be honest here—if this were really for the kids, we’d see improved reading scores, functioning bathrooms, and maybe a curriculum that doesn’t look like it was written by a BuzzFeed intern on Adderall.

Instead, we’re watching administrators play a sad little shell game with public funds. Budget gaps are plugged with temporary fixes, inflated with levies and referendums, while new construction projects sprout up faster than your Amazon impulse buys.

It’s the education-industrial complex in full swing—a scholastic Ponzi scheme, where today’s tax dollars pay for yesterday’s overpromises, while tomorrow’s kids get handed a Chromebook and a dream.

Ponzi Scheme 101: School District Edition

You’ve seen this play before—probably during the last levy, or the one before that, or the one before that that they swore was the “last one.” The district raises taxes citing “emergency needs,” hires consultants to study why they’re broke (spoiler alert: they are), and then promises results they’ll never actually deliver.

By the time voters figure out they’ve been hoodwinked, the superintendent’s already floated off into retirement on a platinum parachute with a taxpayer-funded pension that would make a hedge fund manager blush.

And here’s the rub: every time they raise taxes, they tell you it’s temporary. But they never lower them. Ever. That’s the grift.

This isn’t a budget—it’s a slow-motion stickup.

Administration Fat, Classrooms Starved

Let’s play a fun game: go look up the number of district administrators. Now look up teacher shortages. Now look at your tax bill.

See the problem?

Superintendent Amy Starzecki’s office might as well have its own throne room, while teachers are MacGyvering whiteboard markers out of Sharpies and dry wishes.

We’re not funding education—we’re funding bureaucracy. Kids aren’t getting better schools, they’re getting PowerPoints about how broke the district is, while the grown-ups cash checks and attend “equity conferences” in Maui.

Where’s the Money Going? Your Guess Is As Good As Theirs

Try asking the school board for a clear breakdown of where the money goes. You’ll either get a 300-page PDF written in budgetese, or a condescending lecture about how you don’t “understand school finance.”

No kidding.

Because school finance is the adult version of Monopoly, except the people in charge already own Boardwalk and keep mortgaging Baltic Ave.

Every year they cry poor, then find millions for consultants, tech upgrades no one uses, and a new mascot costume. Meanwhile, that leaky gym roof? “We’re working on it.”

It’s Not a Vote, It’s a Racket

Let’s talk about how these tax hikes sneak in.

They slip them on ballots during low-turnout elections, sandwiched between judges you’ve never heard of and a sewer referendum. Half the city doesn’t even know what they’re voting on. But boom—8% tax increase approved by a whopping 6% of eligible voters.

And let’s not forget the propaganda mailers—sorry, “informational brochures”—that get sent out right before every vote. Spoiler alert: they’re paid for with your money, telling you how good it is that they’re taking more of your money.

They call that civic engagement. I call it political gaslighting.

Final Crossing Signal

Here’s the real test: ask the district this—

“What happens if we don’t give you more money?”

Watch them panic like a cat in a bathtub.

They’ll say programs will get cut. Teachers laid off. Sports gone. Music dead. Dogs and cats living together. Mass hysteria.

But never—never—will they talk about cutting administrative bloat, or pushing back against the bloated state mandates, or reforming how schools are funded to begin with.

Because this isn’t about the kids, or their teachers.

It’s about feeding the administrative beast.

And that beast wears a suit, lives off your taxes, wants a raise,  and couldn’t spell “transparency” without spellcheck.

Mic Drop

We’re not funding education. We’re funding excuses.

Until we stop handing out blank checks to districts that can’t pass a basic audit, don’t act surprised when you find yourself broke, bitter, and wondering why your kid still can’t do algebra. 

Source : the Meeting