Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

There’s power in remembering the past. That’s why families, schools, colleges, and friends hold reunions teeming with more old stories than there are mosquitoes on a hot Iowa evening. Those stories strengthen our connections and spark our memories. 

Winston Churchill once said, “Those who fail to learn from history are condemned to repeat it.” But before people recognize they’re doomed by repetition, they need to understand the history that’s repeating.

Understanding Iowa’s rich history is now at risk.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

It’s 90 degrees before 9:00 AM. Not a whiff stirs Old Glory. Bicycle tires stick to steaming asphalt, and shirts gain water weight on short walks. But two towns north, thunder begins its base drum rumble. Old men look skyward, rub weather forecasting knees and announce, “storm’s coming.”

It’s a pop-up storm full of sound and a little fury, not lasting long. 

But the political storm now threatening Iowa’s public schools could be long-lasting and destructive. And worse, it’s man-made. Schools may be able to survive by spotting this perfect storm and mitigating the damage. 

Three storm fronts are advancing.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

Lately, I’ve been thinking about some of the great times I had teaching high school. I remember those rare times when classroom discussion took on a life of its own. A spark ignited, and the conversation became spontaneous, insightful, and real. When it happened, it was a joyful rush like discovering a $10 bill in a seldom worn pair of pants. 

It was classroom lightning.

My guess is most teachers have experienced a flash of it, and it’s part of what keeps them teaching instead of bailing for a job with less stress and better pay.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

It was a hot mid-August day in 1979. School hadn’t started, but football had. Sweat trickled down my back as I struggled to make a no window, tiny, drab space come alive. The room remained dead, and I was dead tired.

Just as I was going out, I almost collided with the superintendent coming in. I’d met him once, and I had no desire in a sweat soaked shirt to meet him again.

“I’m glad I caught you. I was wondering if you’d run the scoreboard for the game on Friday.”

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

When my three-year-old granddaughter and I took walks, she’d suddenly stop and stare at a long narrow stick, an uncoiled hose, or a piece of rope. Her hand would tighten in mine, as she crouched for a better look. After a minute or so she’d solemnly pronounce, “not a snake.”

She wasn’t sure what she was looking at, but after careful study, she knew what it wasn’t. We can learn a lesson from a tiny granddaughter looking at life on a walk. She didn’t try to make the new object fit into her understanding, but she needed assurance about what it wasn’t.

It’s difficult making sense of the political chaos engulfing America. It’s hard to name it. It’s easier to look and say, “not normal.”

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

Over time, essential items seem to vanish and are quickly replaced by new technology. Home phones gave way to cell phones now found in most 5^th grader pockets.

Video tapes and CDs died and were resurrected as movie streaming and digital music. Once a badly folded map gave directions. Now, we talk to GPS, and it orders us, “Make a U-turn as soon as possible.”

Politics isn’t immune either. Principled conservatives disappeared and have been replaced by enablers.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

They’re finally gone. It’s over. Mom always said, “Nothing good comes after midnight.” I didn’t get it as a teen. I do now. At 6:31 am on May 15 the legislative party under the Golden Dome died, after lingering on life support for nearly two weeks beyond the scheduled adjournment date.

But it’s not majority party legislators suffering from hangover headaches. The real head throbbing belongs to Iowa public schools.

It can’t be cured with sleep or a home remedy. It impacts 480,665 students in 325 school districts. Here are some of those headaches.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

In grade school, there’s always one kid who needs to be first. He cuts the line for lunch, with a hard shove. In class, even if he doesn’t have a clue about the answer, his hand shoots up first. At recess, if he’s not picked first, the only game played is All Star wrestling.

He owns the big box of crayons, the one with the sharpener, and he guards it. He doesn’t share. If your green crayon is a nub, and you ask to borrow one of his four, his answer is always, “They’re mine.” His sharpener isn’t communal.

The grown-up version cuts you off with a high-speed veer into another lane avoiding a construction zone. He steals the last parking spot while you’re inches from pulling in. He flashes a smirk.

What happens when the adult version isn’t cutting you off in a construction zone, or stealing a parking place, but elected to lead the most powerful country in the world?

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

Author’s note: This is the long play version of a speech I gave during the May Day Rally in Sioux City, sponsored by the “Siouxland Good Trouble Makers.” It rained during my speech, so I did an abbreviated version. Here is the full text. An estimated 150 people attended this rally.

This crowd gets my blood pumping! On this May Day, let’s remember the International Worker slogan of 1905: “An injury to one is an injury to all.” It was true then. It’s true now. 

If one person is denied due process, equal justice is on life support. When the richest man in the world waves around a chain saw gutting essential programs, run by essential workers, and when a president imposes reckless tariffs, America bleeds. 

Rallies like this one are the tourniquet that stops the bleeding. Today, our collective voices speak truth to power. This isn’t about political red or blue. It’s about right and wrong. 

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

Many of us have experienced planning committees where loud, “big idea” people dominate. They’re the ones who believe all their ideas are gold and they’re not shy about sharing their genius. They have 50 ideas an hour, and 49 of those should be trashed.

I understand the rules for brainstorming. “There are no bad ideas.” But many of those ideas should die a natural death. They should rest peacefully buried in a closet with other bad ideas written on those big sheets of brainstorming paper.

But sometimes that doesn’t work.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

During my 27 years representing teachers, I encountered a variety of teacher assistance plans. The intended purpose was to provide more detail than just having an evaluator sit in a classroom for 30 minutes and then check the “Needs Improvement” box on the evaluation form.

But those plans varied wildly in quality and intent. Some evaluators recognized legitimate teaching deficiencies and tried to provide constructive assistance. The most beneficial plans were drafted with participation from the teacher being evaluated. That provided mutual ownership; the advice was shaped with the teacher instead of imposed on the teacher.

Those were rare.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

If you ask an Iowa educator what they need to be successful, you’ll get a list of things like, time to prepare, no legislative attacks, parental support, adequate supplies, administrative backing, and adequate school funding. 

What’s in House File 884 won’t be on the list. That bill allows public school districts and charter schools to hire or allow volunteer or paid chaplains, with no qualification requirements except to pass a background check. Iowa House Republicans approved the legislation on March 26, and Republicans on the Senate Education Committee advanced it on April 3, making the bill eligible for debate in the full Senate. 

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

Dear members of Congress:

I know your job is difficult. I’d hate coming to work where I’m expected, at least in public, to despise almost half of my co-workers just because we disagree.

One side knows the republic hangs in the balance, but can’t decide how to cut it down to keep it from choking. The other side twists itself into knots defending a mercurial president who rides one whim after another, depending on the day. Both sides hurl insults via cable news noise.

It’s a dysfunctional work environment.

The American people are caught in the middle.

Here are some suggestions for improving your workplace and getting back to doing the people’s business. 

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

Before Republicans gutted Iowa’s 42-year-old public sector bargaining law in 2017, collective bargaining was a lot like a middle school dance. At the start, there was a chasm between wannabe dancers. They huddled with their own group, talking about what might be.

Oh, so gradually they inched closer. One deal was done, then a couple more. Suddenly, the dance floor rocked until deadlines loomed, and the lights blazed on.

It’s never easy. But it worked, and the school district and association owned the results.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

(With apologies to the Twilight Zone creators)

You’re about to enter another dimension. A dimension not only of anger and fear but of hypocrisy. A journey into a place where bipartisan thought is extinguished by blind obedience. A dimension that diminishes a state. It refuses to listen to cries for moderation and compromise. It’s a place where no position is too extreme. Bizarre becomes reality. There’s a signpost up ahead. 

You’ve entered the Golden Dome Zone.

There’s certainly something weird happening under that Golden Dome. Senate File 360 would have made it a simple misdemeanor in Iowa to provide or administer a gene-based vaccines like the mRNA ones for COVID-19. Republicans on a subcommittee advanced this bill, but it did not get through the full Senate Health and Human Services Committee before the “funnel” deadline on March 7.

But did it really die?

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

We’ve all attended parties living two hours beyond when it should die. The conversation ends, the chip dip separates, there’s more empty beer cans than full. But there’s always someone trying to keep it alive. 

We all know that guy.  He tells another loud, obnoxious joke.  As yawns drown out the music, he shouts, “Let’s play a drinking game.” 

There’s a mad dash for the door. It’s time to go home.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

Imagine being appointed to be the president of a huge tech company. You have no experience or knowledge of tech. Your 11-year-old grandson taught you once how to turn on a computer, but that’s the limit of your tech knowledge. You’re a modern-day Luddite.

Most of your experience is in showbiz. The chairman of the board loved your show and even made guest appearances. The other board members are afraid of the chairman, so when he shouts, “jump!” They whimper, “How high?”

You’ve received your orders from the chairman. His goal is to dismantle the company regardless of harm. You’re hired to destroy, not reform.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com  

In the fall of 1975, I was a freshman at Central College in Pella, Iowa. I had spent the summer detasseling corn, so college rescued me from dew-drenched mornings and sweat-dripping afternoons.

I graduated from high school with twelve other students. I wasn’t the valedictorian or even salutatorian, but I was in the top ten. With that academic record, graduation from college was the goal, but it certainly wasn’t a given.

Like all freshmen, I first had to conquer general education requirements. One of those was a religion class. I attended Sunday school and church my whole life, so I registered for New Testament.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com  

In 1989, the movie Field of Dreams painted an idyllic picture of Iowa. The most iconic scene was when a ghostly player asks, “Is this heaven?” Ray, played by Kevin Costner, answers, “No, it’s Iowa.”

More than three decades later, even those with rose colored glasses wouldn’t mistake Iowa for heaven. It’s changed. 

Once, both political parties valued protecting children. It was a core value.

But that’s gone. It’s buried next to “Iowa nice.”

Here’s what led to its death.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com  

Americans love expressing their opinions. After all, the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution guarantees free speech. You’ll find those loud opinions at any sporting event. Sit in the stands at any field or gym and you’ll hear the bleacher experts sitting fifteen rows up, sometimes three beers in.

Trying to get a family to reach a consensus on where to eat is almost as complicated as diplomatic détente. Strategic planning meetings are a kind of American torture chamber. And we’ve all read the “expert opinions” on Facebook.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com   

Often when a politician gives a speech, what’s not said speaks volumes. The details left out are as important or more important than what’s said.

That’s the case with Governor Kim Reynolds’ Condition of the State on January 14—especially when it comes to what she left out about public education.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com   

Most veteran educators will tell you public education often falls in love with shiny, new trends. A school administrator goes to a conference and comes home with the latest, greatest idea, and is convinced every classroom should implement it immediately. 

It happened so often we called it the “flavor of the month.” Trends like the Madeline Hunter method, Cooperative learning, McRel, Open classroom, and Individual learning, are just a few examples. All had their day in the sun and died a slow or quick death.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com   

Imagine a basketball team where players are paid a bonus per basket, rebound, or steal. Would the five players work together to win, or would the game be about individual statistics and earning the biggest paycheck? Now imagine only two of the five players can earn a bonus. How would the other three starters and the bench react? 

In November, Governor Kim Reynolds and the Iowa Department of Education announced an $8.5 million competitive grant program to recognize teachers who accelerate student learning beyond one year of learning. Districts would be able to provide $2,500 in supplemental pay to the top 10 percent. Total district awards will vary based on the number of teachers in the district, up to a maximum of $500,000.

Reynolds called this program a “Teachers Accelerating Learning grant.” It’s funded through federal dollars from the Biden administration’s American Rescue Plan.

No matter what she calls the concept, it’s still just merit pay.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com   

Storm clouds thicken as flashes brighten a distant sky. It’s coming. The snare drum cadence of thunder morphs into booming bass drums accompanied by a slashing light show. The wind howls. You check the batteries in the flashlights. You close the windows and secure the garbage cans.

It’s time to gather family, grab flashlights, and head for lower ground.

There are different kinds of storms. On January 13, a legislative storm will begin brewing in Des Moines. It’s time to gather the education family to prepare.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com   

Everyone watching TV has probably seen Mattress Firm’s ads with the tagline, “How do you sleep at night?” There’s quite a variety. There’s the muscle man at the gym drenching the weightlifting bench in sweat and then refusing to wipe it up. There’s Nana catfishing on a dating app using a fake bikini clad photo and then saying, “They even send me gift cards sometimes,” and there’s the barefoot guy feet up on the plane.

What do these ads illustrate? They all show a person behaving badly, and then bragging that they sleep well because of Mattress Firm.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com   

Some things are hard to predict. Why is my cell phone obsolete after a month? Which Hawkeye quarterback will play Saturday? Will the Stranger Things cast be on Medicare before it returns to Netflix, and which cabinet position will Donald Trump give to Dr. Phil?

Other things are easy to predict. A match between a 58-year-old biting-boxer and a 27-year-old YouTuber will always feature dancing and a few scripted punches. If you’re a male over age 60 on Facebook, and a 20-something woman with a revealing neckline says your posts are fascinating, she’s scamming you. 

The most predictable thing: Iowa’s ruling trifecta, led by a governor desperate to get her MAGA creds back, will ram extreme public education bills through the legislature next year.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com   

One of our first warnings for children is, “Don’t take candy from strangers.” Iowans need to remember that lesson when politicians offer their version of candy. It seems so sweet, but bitter truth lurks behind.

When Governor Kim Reynolds tells us what she is going to do, Iowans should believe her. She’s shown she’s not shy about getting her way. We’re a one-party state with no checks or balances, and that one party just received another mandate from voters. Legislators may tinker around the edges, but the governor gets what she wants, unless the public protest demonstrates the mandate was a mirage.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com   

The corpse of the losing presidential campaign isn’t cold, and they’re sharpening knives for the autopsy. As always, according to the know-it-all people the losing campaign was rife with mistakes, missteps, and was generally inept. The winning campaign was flawless, brilliant, and ordained by God. If you don’t believe me, open Facebook and you’ll see it.

I don’t have the expertise or stomach for a full autopsy. I’ll leave that to professional political pundits. I do have a couple of observations about the 2024 campaign, though.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com   

Before malls became teen hang outs, there were drive-in theaters. In the 1970s, they attracted teens and were a place to dream about bench seat heaven with a date. After all, they were known as “passion pits.”

The crowd at the local “passion pit” didn’t really care about deep plot lines and moving themes. When you pulled into a spot with a date, you were showing your world, you were stepping out. There were always a few families, but the place was filled with teens.

Movie makers knew what their audience craved, and they fed them. You could watch three movies in one night, and they were the weirdest, wildest horror films ever made.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com   

If you’ve had the privilege of walking with a four-year-old, you’ll understand what pure wonder looks like. Their eyes dilate as they purse their lips. They touch the newfound object with loving care.  They stare for what seems like hours. 

My four-year-old companion becomes a miniature investigative reporter, with machine gun questions. “Why is the sky blue?” “What kind of bug is that?” “How do birds fly?” “Why does that cloud look like my dog?” 

It’s like being questioned by tiny Bob Woodward.

It’s exhilarating and enlightening.

But like some politicians, you’re relieved when you look around and find no fact checker.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com   

One of the early lessons that parents teach their toddlers is, “If you hurt someone, you say you’re sorry.” As children mature, the lesson also matures to add, “When you make a mistake, admit it, say you’re sorry and learn from it.” We hope kids learn this lesson early.

But one profession must have missed that toddler talk and instead embraced the catch phrase from the movie Love Story: “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”

In this line of work, the mantra becomes, “love for power means never having to say you’re sorry.”

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com   

I’m old enough to remember when Fonzie jumped the shark on the show “Happy Days.” That episode spawned a new idiom, referring to when something “has reached its peak and starts to decline in quality.”

But the 1977 “shark jumping” didn’t just happen. It occurred as the sitcom writers neglected script quality and instead relied on outrageous, attention-grabbing gimmicks.

That’s what’s happening in Iowa. But it’s not a sitcom that’s past its prime—it’s Iowa’s beloved public education system. Public schools have suffered from long-term neglect and three attention-grabbing attacks, which remind me of how Fonzie jumped the shark.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com   

I don’t want to be scared. I avoid roller coasters. I don’t like horror movies. I’m not a fan of people jumping out even if they’re yelling “surprise,” and I don’t pay to be scared in Halloween haunted houses.

But when I was 15, the church youth group went to a haunted house sponsored by another church. Even then, I tried to find an excuse to skip out, but it was a church event. How scary could it be?

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com   

A weekend ago, I door knocked in a small town near Sioux City. Canvassing for political candidates is an adventure, raising important questions. 

Is Cujo’s chain strong enough? Will I fall through the porch? Is the person peeking through the curtains willing to open the door for what might look like a white-haired Ted Bundy? Can I get this done before the start of the football game?

There were no obvious hazards, and the people I talked to were mostly “Iowa nice,” even if some probably thought I was “a woke Communist.” A lot of people weren’t home. But this guy answered the knock. I could tell by his expression; he wasn’t welcoming me in for cookies and coffee. I made my doorstep pitch.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com  

When the last firework explodes, the calendar accelerates. School, a distant memory in June becomes a focus in July. There’s a lot to do and a short time to do it.

In early August, teachers cram in their last vacation amid thoughts of seating charts, lesson plans, and getting classrooms ready. Veteran teachers know the first days are consumed by speeches, and smiles with little time to get ready.

Some feel hopeful anticipation, while others feel a tingle of fear, and dread but all want a positive start. Here are some suggestions for a positive start.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com  

We’re Las Vegas magic show nerds. We’ve seen a lot of big names like Lance Burton, Penn and Teller, Criss Angel, Shim Lim, and David Copperfield. But early in one of our Las Vegas vacations, we couldn’t afford prime time, so we settled for an afternoon magic show at the MGM. 

At that time, the basement of the MGM was decorated like the Wizard of Oz. So, the tiny magic stage was nestled between munchkin mannequins and the yellow brick road.

If you’re in a magic show for under $10 a ticket, your expectations are low.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com  

Mom asked, “You didn’t make anyone mad today, did you?”  I didn’t have the heart to answer truthfully. 

She kept asking.

I kept fibbing.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com  

Changes in youth sports since the 1970s seem as dramatic as Iowa’s weather this summer. Those changes raise questions about whether sports are an extracurricular activity or should be the main focus for some kids.

In the 1970s, school sports were the only game in town. There were no club traveling teams or private sports academies. To get ready for organized sports, you learned through pickup games at the basketball court or on a dusty diamond playing workup. Not a referee or umpire in sight. You learned from older friends, patient enough to teach. The rules were flexible and unwritten.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com  

We’ve all heard these old adages. “You can’t force a round peg into a square hole.” “You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.”

There are a lot of other things we shouldn’t try to force. We can’t force someone to think we’re handsome, beautiful, witty, or charming. We can’t force our kids to date or marry the one we choose, and we can’t force a sushi hater to love eating sushi.

In the U.S., we can’t force someone to believe in one brand of religion or any religion at all just because that’s what the majority believes or that’s what politicians think would make them more popular.

But It’s happening.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

Two summers ago, I thought I was having a stroke. I saw fireworks in my eyes when none were in the sky. No matter how I blinked, the world looked like it was wearing a fuzzy fur coat. Night driving was still possible, but tortuous.

Like many men, I thought it might go away. So, I used my vast medical knowledge and diagnosed myself.

I was wrong. 

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

It has happened to many of us. While cruising down the highway, a dashboard light flashes on. You may not recognize what the light is telling you. You can ignore it and pray to the car gods your engine doesn’t die, or you can pull over, look for the car manual, and find out what it means.

My dad called these dashboard warnings “idiot lights.” I can still hear him say, “You’re an idiot if don’t stop and check what’s wrong.”

Once that light flashes you’ll feel your wallet thinning as you curse the car, forgetting you’re responsible for preventive maintenance.

Idiot lights are flashing across Iowa, trying to warn us our state’s public schools are beginning to crumble from neglect. It’s time to pull over to discover the problems.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

Lately, on my walks, I’ve pondered changes in Iowa. I’ve written about some of them and have read some great articles comparing Iowa now to how our beloved state was in the past.

I’m left with a threshold question: Have Iowans really changed so dramatically that “Iowa Nice” has morphed into “Iowa Nasty?” Around mile 3 of my walk I concluded Iowans haven’t changed, but our state’s leadership has. Here’s what I mean. 

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

I always considered knot tying and auditioning as two separate skills with nothing in common. I learned knot tying from an overly-patient Scoutmaster who scowled but never criticized when knots like the sheepshank, square, clover hitch, and bowline were too loose or completely flubbed. 

I also had auditions. I went for a music scholarship in college. I didn’t get it. I tried out for a few plays and scored parts.

Both skills require practice, discipline, and willingness to fail. I never tried both skills at once. After all, that would have left me tied in knots and looking bad during an audition.

But it’s happening now on the political stage.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com  

Starting in 2016, Netflix streamed Stranger Things, a horror, science fiction series set in a small Indiana town with tweens and teens as main characters. In its four seasons, the audience travels to the “Upside Down,” an alternate universe where bizarre replaces normal.

It’s fun fiction.

But in real life, we have veered into the “Political Upside Down.”

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com  

A segment of America has always been intrigued by anti-hero characters, fictional and real. Think Tony Soprano, Dirty Harry, Jesse James, Bonnie and Clyde, Billy the Kid. We might not want them as neighbors, but there’s a secret fascination with their antics. They give a wink, a smirk, and a middle finger to society while being outrageous and often breaking the law.

Enter Donald J. Trump.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com  

Dear Administrators and School Boards,

It’s been a tough winter. Public schools endured repeated assaults from a governor focused on consolidating power and a legislature refusing to provide a hint of check and balance on her power grab.

The public-school family is hurting.

From left: Iowa House Majority Leader Matt Windschitl, Florida Governor RonDeSantis, Iowa Senate President Amy Sinclair, Governor Kim Reynolds. Photo first published on Reynolds’ political Facebook page on December 18, 2023.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com  

My grandson and I go to a lot of Marvel movies. We sit in the front, bathed in superhero heroism. But before the feature, there’s always coming attractions. The first three or four trailers are loud and enticing. Usually we whisper, “That looks great. We should try to go.” By the eighth, we’ve found the bottom of our popcorn, our drinks are gurgling empty, and the coming attractions seem to look alike.

During what should have been the three coldest, snowiest months in Iowa, my wife and I escaped to Florida, the land of Iowa legislative “coming attractions.”

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com  

It’s after midnight. You’ve yawned and stretched. You’ve heard the same story twice. There’s no move to leave. They’ve settled in. Your yawns become deeper, and more obvious. 

Still, they linger.

Photos by Bruce Lear, published with permission

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com  

There’s a learning curve for every change. How sharp the curve is depends on the speed of the change. The journey from Iowa snowbound to Florida snowbird was abrupt but welcome.

We bought a small place in the land of alligators and golf carts and headed South a day after the last January blizzard. Here are a few lessons from our snowbird education.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com    

There’s a beloved children’s book titled, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Alexander wakes up with gum in his hair, and it gets worse from there. 

After Governor Kim Reynolds’ Condition of the State speech on January 9, Area Education Agencies woke up with gum in their hair and it became a “Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Year.”

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com    

Educators need a lot of things. They need adequate on time school funding, parental support, dedicated school boards, administrators who’ll back them, copy paper, supplies, adequate preparation time, professional pay, positive working conditions, technology, and a legislature who supports public schools and doesn’t interfere with real teaching and learning.

They don’t need guns.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com   

America thrives on competition. We love it when victory hangs in the balance. Super Bowl Sunday is almost a national holiday that we celebrate with parties and betting. Court TV is a guilty pleasure for millions. Local, statewide, and national elections earn attention. Whatever the result, we want the competition to be fair.

Senate File 2374, which the Iowa Senate Workforce Committee approved along party lines last week, would cripple public sector unions while once again attacking public schools.

Photo by Bruce Lear of the public library in Alden, Iowa.

UPDATE: None of the bills that threatened to undermine the independence of public libraries made it past the Iowa legislature’s first “funnel” deadline on February 16. Original post follows.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com   

Most Iowa towns have a few things in common: a gas station, a bar, a sprinkling of different church flavors, and a public library.  

Now, almost all of Iowa’s 500 public libraries are governed by a board of trustees. The library trustees make policy and oversee the collection. They are volunteer boards that function independently but are appointed by city councils.

That all could change if House Study Bill 678 becomes law. 

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com    

In 7^th grade, I tried to build a shadowbox. I had plans, but I lacked skill. After struggling for weeks, the deadline loomed, and my shadow box was a shadow of what it was supposed to be.

I turned it in. My shop teacher frowned, sized it up and said, “Work on it a little more.” I did.

After a week of measuring, sawing in the wrong places, and hammering my fingers more than once, I tuned it in again.

This time the frown was a silent grimace. In true shop teacher bluntness, he said, “It’s still really bad.” Then remembering he was supposed to encourage, he said, “You’ll get it next time.” 

I didn’t.

My 7^th grade shadowbox is like the rewrite of Governor Kim Reynolds’ “AEA Destruction Act,” Senate Study Bill 3073. The governor’s proposed amendment is still really bad.

Governor Kim Reynolds delivers the Condition of the State address on January 9, 2024. Photo by Zach Boyden-Holmes/The Des Moines Register (pool).

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com   

We love surprises when we anticipate they’ll be positive. But we dread the surprise of a car not starting on a subzero morning, a call at 2 a.m. from a loved one crying, or a doctor’s hushed prognosis. We laugh when people jump out at a party shouting surprise because we know we’re safe. But we scream if a group jumps out surprising us while we’re on a midnight walk.

Governor Kim Reynolds’ Condition of the State speech last week was a scary surprise party for public educators and parents.

Photo of Magic 8 ball is by ChristianHeldt, available via Wikimedia Commons

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com  

When my kids were younger, we had a Magic 8 Ball. If you asked a Yes or No question and shook it, up popped an answer like, “Without a doubt,” “Outlook not so good,” or “Concentrate and ask again.” 

The Iowa legislature’s 2024 session began on January 8. Like last year, public education may well be on top of the agenda. With that in mind. I thought I’d introduce the Bruce Lear Magic 8 Ball. My version is next generation, so there’s an explanation with each answer. 

Like all predictions, they may be flat wrong, and they sure aren’t inevitable, especially if the education community unites and acts.

Photo of basketball court in Hillsboro, Oregon is by M.O. Stevens, available via Wikimedia Commons

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

No Apple phones, No Madden 24 NFL, and there was not a Tik or a Tok to be found. It was just a fenced concrete slab and two slightly bent backboards with chain nets. There wasn’t free throw line or half court markings. It was strictly BYOB, bring your own basketball. 

The ball sometimes flew over the fence and landed in Bear Crick. We took turns wading in or finding a big enough stick to retrieve the errant ball. Sometimes the lights blazed long after we’d been called to supper, but since we lived a block away, I’d be sent down to switch them off.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring.  

Governor Kim Reynolds’ attitude toward public education reminds me of a scene from an old movie called the Longest Yard, starring Burt Reynolds. There’s a 2005 Adam Sandler remake, but that’s more like a missed field goal.

Burt plays Paul Crewe, a wisecracking, pro quarterback who is convicted and sent to prison. The warden stages a game between the guards and prisoners.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. 

Dad loved to tell the story of the guy so lazy that when he had a flat tire, he sold the car instead of changing the tire. That story was accompanied by a PS: “If you want a dependable car, you have to provide dependable maintenance.” 

It’s also true for public schools.

It’s a lesson for Governor Kim Reynolds.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. 

In college, I worked as a security guard at a window factory. My job was to make rounds ensuring there were no intruders or fires. Usually there were two guards working in two connected factories. 

The factory was dark; guards were alone.

Most nights I read and dozed. The guards hired were either college students or people who couldn’t find another job, since $2.20 an hour was a lousy wage, even in 1978. 

One of the guards was a failed undertaker who tried to entertain us with mortuary horror stories. He also frequently left his building to jump out and scare the other guard on duty. Most nights, it was a joke.   

But one night, things changed.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. 

In a hearing, I always knew when the lawyer on the other side didn’t have a good case. Instead of focusing on facts, they shouted and pounded the table more in hopes the arbitrator might forget and get distracted by a loud passionate argument. 

That’s what Governor Kim Reynolds tried during her October 25 press conference, when asked about book banning in public schools.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. 

It’s school board candidate forum season heading toward the November 7 elections. Watching these events, I’ve noticed most candidates, except those with their own political agenda, understand our state is facing a profound teacher shortage. 

Recently, I’ve heard candidates say, “We need to attract and retain teachers.” But how can school boards do that? What must happen in Iowa to make it possible?

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. 

As a Central College student, I learned Pella has two Hebrew definitions: “City of Refuge” and “Marvel of God.” But neither of these definitions captures the storm raging in this small college town around book banning. This time it’s not about books in the public school’s curriculum or library. This controversy centers on books in the public library.

The Pella storm began long before this year, when Iowa Republican lawmakers and Governor Kim Reynolds enacted Senate File 496. Among other things, the new law states that school libraries and classrooms may only contain “age-appropriate” materials, and further says age-appropriate “does not include any material with descriptions or visual depictions of a sex act” as defined in a separate code section.

The current Pella conflict began nearly two years ago, when a parent complained the public library had Gender Queer: A Memoir by Maia Kobabe on the adult shelves. That award-winning book “recounts Kobabe’s journey from adolescence to adulthood and the author’s exploration of gender identity and sexuality.”

But it’s not just about this book. 

Like Senate File 496, it’s a battle to censor ideas a few people find offensive.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. 

Whenever Dad saw someone struggling to get something done, he’d say, “That guy’s working with a short-handled shovel.”

U.S. House Speaker Kevin McCarthy’s shovel handle is short, and he let a tiny group of his own party saw it off so he could become speaker.

Now, the U.S. is facing a shutdown because McCarthy doesn’t have enough votes in his own party to keep the federal government open beyond September 30, and his party will toss him out if he reaches across the aisle to compromise for Democratic votes.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. 

As Republican presidential wannabes traipse across the countryside, offering 30-second solutions for complex problems, a more immediate election is looming. School board elections on November 7 will help determine whether our community school thrives, suffers, or dies.

Currently, Governor Kim Reynolds and a group of legislative lemmings are committed to creating a two-tiered school system in Iowa, separate and unequal, both funded with public dollars. One tier is used as a political punching bag, has new laws to cope with, accepts all students, and is chronically underfunded. The other tier has funding from a new voucher entitlement, can pick and choose who to accept, and has little to no accountability to taxpayers.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring.

The butter used to sculpt the butter cow is in cold storage. In stores, back-to-school supplies are supplanted by Halloween. From the looks of Facebook, parents mostly won the first day photo battle and got the cherished shot of their kids holding a paper plate with their new grade announced boldly.

School has started.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring.

In some families, there’s an unwritten rule. You may fight within the family, but if someone from the outside attacks, you unite to defend. Well, the education family is under attack. It’s time for all parts of the family—school boards, administrators, teachers, staff, and substitutes—to circle the wagons to protect the profession and our students.

I know a lot of educators hate politics and they hate the “us-vs-them mentality.” But teachers who’ve taught more than a couple of years realize the profession is being torn apart by the big school board in Des Moines, called the Iowa legislature. 

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He took the photo above of Shellsburg School (now Vinton-Shellsburg).

Teachers have earned appreciation for more than a week in May or during tragedies like school shootings or a pandemic. They really do train all other professions.  

People who boast about pulling themselves up with their bootstraps have short memories. If I tried to pull myself up with my own bootstraps, they would have broken, and my boots would have remained firmly on the floor. No, in my tiny school in my tiny town, I had some dedicated motivators called teachers.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring.

Most teaching happens in a classroom with only students in attendance. Occasionally, a visitor drops by, but that’s rare. However, teachers who direct choirs or bands, or coach or advise activities, have large public audiences chock full of experts ready to second-guess.

I was a high school English teacher and adviser for the yearbook and student newspaper. While it might differ from the pressure felt when a championship game was on the line, it had public pressure. The difference was the boo-birds weren’t in the bleachers, they were on the phone and email.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. Bruce took the photo above, of a Branson attraction that’s not what it seems.

We’d been driving a few hours. The warning signs were flashing, backs aching, bladders full. Time to stop. We were on an anniversary trip to Branson, Missouri. Branson is the Las Vegas of the Ozarks. But think Vegas sans gambling, and with an added “heapin helpin” of southern, family, values.

Just before Branson, we saw a huge sign screaming “Discount Show Tickets Here.” My wife craves discounts, and those warning signs persisted. We stopped.

Little did we know as we stepped from the car to the building, we were entering THE TIME-SHARE ZONE. In the time-share zone, nothing is what it seems, and everything is too good to be true. 

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring.

There’s only silence. Waves of heat cause the blacktop to steam. Outdoor dogs slouch with snouts on sweaty paws, without raising hooded eyes. They offer no usual chase, only a feeble growl as kids peddle slowly by. The stillness envelopes newly planted corn, so if your heads cocked just right, you hear it moan growing. Thermometers glow 98, but it’s hotter.

Old men rub aching knees and nod knowingly.

30 miles north, thunder begins its roar, wind buckle shingles on roofs long overdue as lightning begins a fireworks show not seen since two July Fourths ago. 

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring.

It’s been 33 years since Rosanne Barr butchered the National Anthem on live TV at a Padres baseball game. I remember asking then, “What did they expect to happen?” 

After all, Barr wasn’t a singer. She was an over-the-top standup comedian also starring in “Roseanne,” a sitcom shattering the myth of the “Leave it to Beaver family” on TV. Not only did Barr screech the anthem, she did it while plugging her ears and giggling. Then she grabbed her crotch and spit on the ground. 

The public reaction was fierce. The stands erupted in boos and taunts, and the Padres faced a public relations nightmare complete with veteran groups condemning Barr and calling for boycotts of the team. 

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring.

Book banning is nothing new for public schools. In the 1980s, I was teaching Lord of the Flies. One day, I took a call from a grandpa convinced I was ruining his granddaughter’s life by introducing her to characters like Piggy, Jack, and the gang. 

According to Grandpa, the book was porno about a bunch of boys stranded on an island who become savages.  I was happy—at least he understood the basic plot. 

But my happiness was short-lived when he called me “a dirty, commie liberal who shouldn’t be teaching.” I was 23 and didn’t know any communists, but knew I’d soon be fired.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring.

While running for the U.S. Senate in 1858, Abraham Lincoln quoted a portion of Mathew 12:25, which has been translated as, “A House divided against itself cannot stand.” 

He was talking about slavery, but 165 years later, our country and some of our cherished institutions still haven’t grasped that united is better than divided.

There’s an adage that the two subjects you don’t discuss in polite company are religion and politics.  But those two topics are now hard not to mention together because both are immersed in culture wars.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring.

Where I grew up there were multiple sources of news. To hear the news, men gathered at the post office and Standard station, while women preferred the Clover Farm Store or Rebekah Lodge. 

It wasn’t broadcast news. It was secret, local news that an impolite observer might call gossip.

There was typical gossip including who bought a new combine, whose car was parked too long at the lower tavern, and who had the worst dye job in town. 

But there were special categories delivered only in whispers. Things like a cancer diagnosis, a church lady with a fresh shiner, or a recent bankruptcy. These whispers were met with silence, and the few Catholics crossing themselves.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring. He took the photo above, featuring Pearl Lear, Ethan Lear, and Megan Windeshausen Lear.

I don’t remember who spoke at my high school graduation. It wasn’t memorable. The class before us had Dick Clark as the speaker. It wasn’t the Dick “I’d give it a 5, because it’s got a good beat, and easy to dance to” Clark. Rather, it was Iowa’s U.S. Senator Dick Clark. But that class had 24 members and a newly minted gym to celebrate. We had thirteen graduating, and by then the new gym smelled old. No senator in sight.

I know I was there, because I remember my graduation hat didn’t fit, and it kept falling forward, so I saw only the pomp, and missed the circumstances. I did keep the tassel, but it faded to a weird pink color from hanging on my rear-view mirror too long.

I wasn’t valedictorian or salutatorian, but I was in the top ten. But being in the top ten of thirteen doesn’t earn a graduation speaking gig. So 48 years later, I offer my unsolicited graduation speech.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring.

There’s an old story about how to boil a frog. If you put a frog in boiling water, it will quickly jump out. But supposedly, if you put a frog in tepid water and gradually heat it, the frog stays until it boils to death. 

Like the frog, Iowans failed to recognize the danger of political climate change. And Iowa is now boiling.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring.

When I was a kid, Mom warned, “Make sure you keep a screen door between you and the Fuller Brush man. They won’t leave, and all they do is to sell, sell, sell.”

I remember that caution as I’m reading House File 654, the bill Iowa House Republicans recently approved. Among other things, the “firearms omnibus” would encourage public schools to implement age-appropriate gun safety instruction from grades K-12, “based on the eddie eagle gunsafe program developed by the National Rifle Association.”

It’s not the curriculum I question, it’s the messenger and what’s behind bringing the NRA into Iowa’s public schools.

Once in the door, they’ll “sell, sell, sell.” And the NRA is not just peddling brushes. 

They’re selling gun culture.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring.

Way back in 1996, Alanis Morrissette asked, “Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think?” She might have been thinking about a “black fly in your Chardonnay,” but today her question is relevant for Iowa Republican legislators.

Here’s a good definition of the term: “Irony occurs in literature and in life whenever a person says or does something that departs from what we expect them to say or do.”

Ronald Reagan hasn’t roamed the Oval Office for 34 years, yet even now, you’ll hear GOP candidates quote the Gipper: “Government is not the solution to our problem, government is the problem.” 

They love to quote it. They just don’t love to do it.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring.

As a teacher I joked, “I hope I die during teacher in-service, because the transition won’t be abrupt.” Those meetings were deadly dull, and about as relevant to teaching as Lawrence Welk to rock and roll. 

But there were exceptions.

During one of those deadly sessions, the principal wheeled in the Betamax, and we watched “The Road to Abilene.”  It’s a simple story, and it might help answer the question, what happened to Iowa?

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring.

On that first day of school in 1979, I oozed anxiety. After all, there were 30 sets of unknown eyes waiting for the show to begin. I was the show. Am I going to be the tough guy not smiling until Halloween or the open arms teacher? Will my deodorant hold so I don’t pit-out before first period?

That was then. Now, Iowa teachers have much more to worry about than pit stains

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring.

Lately I’ve been thinking about why Iowa GOP politicians seem committed to shouting at the rain instead of solving real problems.

I think the answer might be in a quote from the 1995 movie The American President. Fictional President Andrew Shepard says, “We’re a society that has assigned low priority to education and has looked the other way while our public schools have been decimated. We have serious problems to solve, and we need serious people to solve them.”

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring

Everyone probably remembers the junior high or high school bully.  The one who terrorized vulnerable kids, who dressed a little differently or didn’t say the right things. The ones who didn’t fit in. Those perceived as “other.”

Every school had a bully.

The only thing worse than a lone bully is a group of them trying to outdo each other. Then it becomes a competition to see who can punch down harder on their victims. When bullying escalates, the environment deteriorates. 

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to Iowa’s public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring

The poet Maya Angelou said it best: “When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.”

For the third straight year, Governor Kim Reynolds told Iowa she wanted public money to fund private schools.  She told us who she was. The 52 percent of Iowans who oppose public funds for private school costs should have believed her and voted for her opponent last year.

But the election is over, and we still need to protect our public schools. 

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association Regional Director for 27 years until retiring.

Governor Kim Reynolds’ private school voucher plan, which is being rammed through the Iowa legislature, does more than throw public coffers open to private schools. It obliterates the line between church and state as a new entitlement spawns an unequal, two-tier publicly-funded school system. 

Ironically, 86 years before the US Supreme Court ruled in Brown v. Board of Education that a two-tier public-school system based on race was unconstitutional, the Iowa Supreme Court determined in Clark v. Board of School Directors, “Schools may not segregate students based on race.”

An unequal publicly-funded system didn’t work then.

It won’t work now.

I’m reading a Stephen King book where the teenage protagonist travels to another world. The world seems like a fairy tale, but something is wrong. The fairy tale has a a horror twist. 

Reading the book reminded me of Governor Kim Reynolds’ Condition of the State speech, a not so beautiful fairy tale/horror story. 

The Iowa legislature’s 2023 session begins on January 9.

Over the years, I’ve participated in some great Iowa legislative forums and some that left me with what the old commercial called an Excedrin headache. Most of the time, those headaches came because I didn’t prepare, and I left things unsaid or unquestioned. It’s a little like being in a debate with someone and knowing just the right thing to say, a few hours too late.

For that reason, I offer a simple guide for discussing private school vouchers at legislative forums. Although Iowa House Republicans have twice refused to pass Governor Kim Reynolds’ scheme, and a statewide poll last year showed 52 percent of Iowans opposed using public money for private schools, the governor seems determined to force a yes vote. Those who oppose vouchers need to be equally determined and prepared.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association Regional Director for 27 years until retiring.

For decades, small town Iowans were enthralled with 6-on-6 high school girls’ basketball, a game mostly played in towns with no stoplights. It was quaint. It was unique. It was fun to watch.

I was a fan.

The 6-on-6 game focused a spotlight on Iowa when many from the coasts couldn’t find the state on a map. We didn’t have mountains, or oceans, but we had a unique game that sparked national interest.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association Regional Director for 27 years until retiring.

Educators need quite a few things. They need unlimited paper, markers, books, pens, glue, multicolored construction paper, and high-speed internet. They also need more school funding, freedom to teach, more preparation time, more respect, more salary, better benefits, and smaller classes. 

But they don’t need guns.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to public schools for 38 years. He taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association Regional Director for 27 years until retiring

There really are some jobs your guidance counselor never imagined. For example, some people work as professional cuddlers for those struggling with loneliness, depression, and trauma. Some are paid to test water slides at resorts and hotels, to make sure they are safe and fun. Specialists ghost write online dating profiles for people short on writing skills, but long on virtual romancing. And there are even professional bridesmaids, for the brides with few close friends but big wedding plans. 

All a bit strange, but real occupations held by real people.

Teaching isn’t as unfamiliar as those jobs, but it is unique from other professions in at least four ways.

Bruce Lear: Voters must stop reacting to red meat appeals and start voting like compromise isn’t a dirty word.

A few times during my career, a problem-solving meeting morphed into a scene from the Walking Dead. 

Adrenaline surged and the sides shifted into attack mode. Anger trumped reason. Both sides worked to score a knockout. By the end, no one remembered why we met. Everyone was hungover from anger and worn out from attacks. Nothing was solved.

What happened in those meetings reminds me of what our elections have become. Based on recent polling, it’s not a surprise. 

According to a recent NBC News nationwide poll, 80 percent of Democrats and Republicans “believe the political opposition poses a threat that, if not stopped, will destroy America as we know it.”

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to public schools for 38 years. He taught for elevent years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association Regional Director for 27 years until retiring.  He grew up in Shellsburg, Iowa.  He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com. 

Dear Iowa educators:

Some things are obviously not in our best interest. We don’t follow the GPS when the path leads into a river. We don’t tell our spouse he or she looks fat in those jeans, and we don’t wear a University of Iowa shirt in an Iowa State bar, or vice versa.  

It’s common sense. 

On November 8, Iowa’s educators will face big choices. To avoid trouble later, we need to make decisions rooted in our best interest, because public education is on the ballot.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to public schools for 38 years. He taught for four years in Alden and seven years in Cherokee, then represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association Regional Director for 27 years until retiring.

Anyone who watches television has seen the Progressive Insurance commercial where Dr. Rick helps young homeowners becoming their parents. He gives advice like, “We don’t need a line monitor.” “You don’t need to clap after a movie because no one in the theater made the movie.” “Don’t leave a long message on an answering machine, just text.”

I had three thoughts when I first saw this commercial. First, I was amused. Second, the old guy in me thought, young people would benefit quite a bit from becoming their parents. But the rational guy in me questioned, in a fast-changing world, do we really want young people becoming their parents? The answer was an emphatic no.

My third thought was that Iowa Governor Kim Reynolds might benefit from a little advice on how not to become Donald Trump.

Bruce Lear highlights misguided messages in Republican attorney general candidate Brenna Bird’s tv ad, now airing in heavy rotation.

The old saying, “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” seems true. TV executives find the formula for a hit medical show and then order five more imitators. If one Marvel movie superhero captures our imaginations, why not dig a little deeper into the comic book vault for a dozen more?

Political commercials also imitate. For example, how many right-wing politicians shooting guns can the voters watch? How many east or west coast politicians running for president do Iowans need to see dressed in flannel shirts sitting on bales of hay proclaiming their undying love for ethanol? If it worked once, consultants repeat, repeat, and repeat again.

One political imitation ad recently caught my attention. It tries to catch the vibe of Joni Ernst’s “Make ’em squeal” ad from her first U.S. Senate campaign in 2014. Shock the viewer with crude humor, but with smiles all around. After all, if it worked for a little-known state senator from Red Oak, maybe it will work for a little-known county attorney from Guthrie County.

Bruce Lear: Support staff personnel are often ignored or treated as disposable instead of essential. But they are the glue holding schools together.

After a long career as a carpenter, my dad took a job as the night custodian for the small school I graduated from. He worked 3:00 to 11:00. The people in the building loved him because he’d go out of his way to help. He loved the work, and he was good at it. 

One time I was on a break from college and my dad had the flu and couldn’t go to work. It was rare, but he called the school and then went to bed.

A few minutes after 3:00, I answered the phone. It was the school superintendent. 

Bruce Lear reviews a new worrying line of attack on educators coming out of Republican-controlled states.

As a kid, I loved fishing off the dock because it assured immediate action, since I could catch tiny fish as fast as my worm hit the water.

But my dad practiced real fishing. He’d pack a lunch and fish in a small boat all day, even if nothing but mosquitoes were biting. He was in it for the long term, and it paid off with big catches. If he didn’t catch anything one day, he’d try again the next. He understood big catches took patience.

Like my dad’s long-term fishing, Republicans understand culture wars aren’t about instant gratification. The best example is their 49-year battle against Roe v Wade. They eventually found a right-wing majority on the Supreme Court brazen enough to overturn settled law and rob women of privacy and thus choice.

But the new front in the culture war is clearly public education. The hard right seems determined to chip away through multiple avenues of attack. 

Bruce Lear: No political party should gamble our democracy because it wants to face the weakest opponent in a general election. 

I’ve heard from police officers that intervening in domestic disputes is very dangerous. Often those fighting unite and turn on the officer.

Now, some Democratic interest groups are intervening in the Republican party’s family fight, its primary. The goal is to boost Republican candidates that Democrats judge to be too extreme to win a general election.

That boost comes in two ways. One approach is to amplify the “extreme candidate,” and the other is to run negative ads about his/her more “moderate opponents.”

Bruce Lear: The constitutional amendment Iowans will vote on in November goes much further than the Second Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.

I love the movie Tombstone, featuring Kurt Russell as Wyatt Earp, Val Kilmer as Doc Holiday, Sam Elliot as Virgil, and Bill Paxton as Morgan. It’s a little shorter than Kevin Costner’s 3 hour plus marathon Earp, released a few months later.      

Tombstone came out in 1993, but it’s still a good watch even for the fifth time. It’s also relevant now, because the U.S. Supreme Court recently expanded gun rights, and this November, Iowans will be asked to enshrine guns into our state’s constitution.

Bruce Lear: As Iowa’s education foundation crumbles, public school supporters need to be as persistent and passionate as the governor. 

It’s no secret single-issue voters are loud, proud, and powerful. They fuel campaigns with rhetoric and resources. When choosing candidates, they focus on their long-term goals and don’t demand perfection over what’s possible.  

That’s how America woke up to find Donald Trump elected president. Thanks to three U.S. Supreme Court justices he appointed, the court is poised to ignore 49 years of precedent by turning back the clock to when women had few rights, slavery was commonplace, and only land-owning, white, males counted.

Throughout my professional career, I’ve heard educators say, “Yes, public education is important, but it’s not the only issue.”  

Bruce Lear: Iowa’s public school teacher shortage is real. We need to do more than celebrate teacher appreciation week once a year.

I’m sure teachers enjoy all the fast-food discounts, coffee mugs, gift cards, and other trinkets they receive during teacher appreciation week.    

But they need protection more than appreciation. They are becoming an endangered profession.