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 a proud Andy Griffith Show nerd. I know the next line in the dialogue, and even after the twentieth time watching, I cackle like it’s the first. I’ve visited Mount Airy, North Carolina, the real Mayberry for the Andy Griffith Festival, rode in the squad car, played with the siren, and visited the courthouse. 

When I was working after a stressful day, I’d watch a couple episodes, and it calmed me down. It was better than any pill.

One of my top ten favorite episodes is “Aunt Bee’s Medicine Man.” Colonel Harvey, a traveling salesman, arrives in Mayberry and charms the town ladies into buying his tonic he claims, “purges the body and lifts the spirit.” But it’s 85 percent alcohol. Mayberry is a dry county.

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 heavy summer air almost suffocated 10-year-old me as I shuffled into the dark woods clutching an open bag. My older friends coaxed me into a snipe hunt. They barely suppressed giggles as they explained I’d have to be patient, and a flashlight would scare the snipe away. 

I stood shaking with an open bag. My friends evaporated into the night. I hadn’t asked the right questions. I trusted them. Things weren’t the same as they appeared.

I was left holding the bag.

With an election approaching, voters need to ask the hard questions, or we’ll all be left holding the bag and the unfunny joke will be on us. Here are some questions for Zach Lahn, the Republican nominee for governor.

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 that a city in Iowa has an 18-hole private country club. Across town, there’s an 18-hole public course and little 9-hole par-3.

Of the seven city council members, five are devoted members of the country club. One day while having cocktails on the country club terrace while griping about dues, the five hatched a plan. They called it “Citizens’ Choice.” They’d give everyone who applied a coupon for $8,000 toward country club membership.

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 same introduction I used for a post I wrote in 2020 after President Donald Trump ordered a drone strike on Iran.Unfortunately, it’s still relevant for this new war.

It was an Iowa night thick with humidity and lightning bugs. We’d gathered in a vacant lot to test our virgin manhood. I was 13 years old, and I was standing in a circle of friends watching as each skinny armed boy tied on overweight boxing gloves and met his opponent in the center of the circle.

No referee. No adult. Just a whole lot of testosterone mingling with nervous adolescent sweat.

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 

Recently we celebrated National Teacher Appreciation week. Business partners provided lunches. Schools purchased small gifts like sunglasses, cinnamon rolls, and key chains. Some parents scrambled to find unopened Christmas gifts of perfume or lotion, to re-gift to their child’s favorite teacher, and local media did feel good stories.

My guess is teachers loved those tokens of appreciation, because it doesn’t happen often, especially since they’ve just endured the never-ending slog between Christmas and Easter.

But even with the gifts and free food, many labor advocates criticize appreciation weeks, saying that “If a profession needs a specific week to feel valued, it often points to systemic issues with compensation, workload, and societal respect.”

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 

Dad was a master carpenter. He didn’t graduate from vocational school, wasn’t an apprentice, and he didn’t have a framed certificate announcing his skill. He learned by doing.

For him, “Measure twice and cut once” wasn’t an old platitude. It’s what he lived by, and it made him a master of his trade. He believed consequential planning avoids unintended consequences, and jobs that look simple often aren’t.

Now it appears the U.S. is being led by people who don’t even measure once.

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 few years ago, we visited Northern Ireland. During our trip, we repeatedly heard the Biblical phrase “The time of trouble,” describing the Protestants/Catholic war. This descriptor needed little elaboration, because those who said it lived it.

While our last couple snowbird months in Florida this year don’t compare to 30 years of brutal violence, they did introduce us to the seventh circle of Hell: health care and insurance coverage in the U.S.

It was “Our time of trouble.”

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 at one time or another has been driven crazy by a backseat driver, sometimes sitting in the front. “There’s a stop sign.” “You’re too close to the curb.” “That car is turning.” “Slow down.” 

There are three general reactions, and none are productive. The driver may nod and ignore, begin to second-guess themselves, or explode, making the remainder of the ride resemble a “red wedding” from “Game of Thrones.”

Second-guessers like to make sure other people are doing things the same way they would do it. When that happens, everyone wants to shout, “If you’re so good at it, why didn’t you do it yourself?”

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 probably been trapped in a no-win situation. There’s no way out. There’s no good choice.

That’s often called Hobson’s choice. It was supposedly named after a 17^th century stable owner named Hobson who had a corner on the market and forced customers to choose the horse closest to the door or take no horse at all.

Customers had no real choice. They could walk or pay good money for a bad horse which Hobson always located closest to the door.

Hobson’s choice is depicted by the cartoon bully scowling, doubling his first, and shouting, “Do you want to get punched in the stomach or face?”

No choice, just an ultimatum.

The majority party in the Iowa legislature has trapped public schools in a no-win situation. It’s Hobson’s choice at its worst because it isn’t about a broken-down horse, it’s about the futures of public school students.

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 

Protecting children is a shared value of most adults. A newborn can’t leave the hospital unless they’re buckled into an approved car seat. We childproof our houses. We gasp the first time they swing too high and move closer to catch them if they fly out. When they’re tweens and teens, we stay up sweating until they’re home. We insist on seat belts, driver’s training, and helmets for bicycle riding.

At school, there are tornado, fire, and lockdown drills. There are lists of people approved to pick up students at the end of the day. Schools warn parents not to send a sick child to school.

We’re protective and cautious.

That’s why a bill now pending in the Iowa House is so troubling.

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 mysteries are difficult to solve. For example, in this classic story problem: “Train A leaves from Chicago for Toledo at 70 miles an hour. Simultaneously Train B leaves Toledo for Chicago at 60 miles per hour. The distance between the cities is 260 miles when do they meet?”

Sure, there’s a mathematical formula to figure it out, but as a distracted 7^th grader I never conquered it.  There were just too many other important questions needing answers. Why is the Chicago train faster? Is there a headwind between Toledo and Chicago or are trains just built slower in Ohio? Who are the people traveling? Why do we want those trains to meet? Are they on the same track? If so, isn’t that the real story and the real problem?

After reading about the recent Iowa Republican gubernatorial primary debate, there’s no mystery about why Iowa’s public schools are at risk. Four of the five contenders are sticking to an old formula that’s put Iowa public schools in jeopardy and caused teachers and future teachers to look for an exit.

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 

Governor Kim Reynolds laid out her last legislative agenda in her Condition of the State address on January 13. It took a while for me to remember that much avoidance in a speech. I remember now.

After the teachers in a building were fed up with lack of leadership, and aggravation reached critical mass, there were often explosions. I always knew the “Enough is enough” stage had been reached when the phone calls began from teachers I’d never met. They were the silent majority, but now they were ready to shout.

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 new year is a time for making resolutions, starting new, and dreaming big. But quite often the treadmill becomes a clothes rack for things we’ve outgrown, and our resolve to eat healthier evaporates as soon as the drive-up for Raising Cane’s clears up. Keeping resolutions requires willpower and work, and they must be backed by determination and strategies for change. If not, resolutions morph into wishes.

Wishes might be fun when blowing out candles or sitting on Santa’s lap. But wishes are even weaker than resolutions. 

Resolutions are usually individual commitments, but I’m proposing a few collective resolutions around honestly preserving our U.S. and Iowa history.

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 digital clock silently clicks 3:01 a.m. Her eyes flash open. She’s a teacher and she knows 3:01 isn’t awake time especially when 27 pairs of third grade eyes will be staring at her in a few hours. Her mind reviews every lesson rewriting in her mind. Then she begins to worry about her career choice. Will it get easier? How do I balance family with school?

She hopes her school can hire more teachers, reduce paperwork, meetings, and maybe agree to a raise above insurance increase. But money is tight. She needs more time to prepare so her teaching bag isn’t filled to the brim at home. She prays she’ll be allowed to be creative because that’s the joy of teaching. She’s exhausted by interference. 

Her last thought before drifting off to a dreamy sun-soaked beach is a hope Iowa legislators will stop punching down on her profession.

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 dictionary definition of intellectual freedom is, “The fundamental right to seek, receive, and impart information and ideas from all viewpoints without restriction, censorship and fear.” That’s the goal of almost all liberal arts public universities in the country.

But politicians on the right have long contended universities are drowning innocent students in liberal think tanks. During the last legislative session, the majority party played lifeguard to save those students.

They created a new Center for Intellectual Freedom housed at the University of Iowa, but managed directly by the Board of Regents and active in all three public universities. It’s no coincidence it’s housed in Iowa City, long considered the epicenter of liberalism in 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. He can be reached at BruceLear2419@gmail.com 

There’s a scene in the 1974 movie Longest Yard, which I’ve always remembered. The prison warden forces Burt Reynolds, an incarcerated former professional football player, to organize a football team to play the guards.

In the huddle, Reynolds tells the offensive line to let a hated guard through. As the guard blitzes, the line parts and Reynolds hurls a pass into the guard’s groin.

The prisoners huddle, and Reynolds calls the same play: “Let’s do it again.” They do. The guard leaves the game in agony clutching his groin. 

Republican State Representative Skyler Wheeler, who chairs the House Education Committee, is signaling he may call the same play during the next Iowa legislative session that was called this 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 

We’ve probably all seen Mr. Overflowing Plate in the buffet line. He can’t make a choice, so he chooses everything. As he returns to his table, he leaves a trail of onion rings, and pizza slices in his wake. His plate is too small, and his appetite too big. 

Now, imagine that overflowing plate is filled with items he didn’t choose, and even dislikes—while those in the buffet line hurl insults and second-guess the forced choices tumbling from his plate.

The plates of public school teachers are overflowing. It’s causing serious heartburn, leading to burnout.

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 

Game of Thrones fans remember the ominous warning, “Winter is coming.” It was about White Walkers and the army of the undead invading. Winter is coming in Iowa too. There aren’t White Walkers and the undead lurking behind Iowa snow drifts, but the annual legislative Winter Dance Party under the Golden Dome will begin soon.

It might not provoke White Walker terror, but Iowa educators feel a chill down their spines thinking about the Iowa legislature convening on January 12. What’s the next attack? How will we cope? Will they increase state funding for schools above the inflation rate?

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 9:45 p.m. and we’re on item 3 of the agenda, with 12 more to go. Three board members are in a verbal brawl with two parents that would make the World Wrestling Federation blush. So far, it’s more like a colonoscopy without sedation than a school board meeting.

A person willing to serve in the hardest unpaid job is a hero. He/she stepped up when others stepped back. 

Iowans elected lots of new school board members last week. I’ve worked with many boards over my 38 years in education, so I’ve experienced the good, the bad, and the ugly. Here are a few suggestions for avoiding the ugly.

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 

 “Wait an hour before swimming, or you’ll drown.” “Never shower in a thunderstorm.” “Sitting too close to the TV will ruin your eyes.” “If you get close to a train it will suck you in.”

Those were some of the mom myths I heard growing up. They might not have been true, but even now, I don’t shower in a storm or wander too close to a train.

There are also comfortable myths we remember from elementary school that humanized historical figures. George Washington had wooden teeth, Ben Franklin discovered electricity, and Paul Revere rode through the country shouting, “The British are coming.” We’ve all heard them. We probably all believed them. They were harmless exaggerations.

But some myths aren’t harmless.

It’s time to bust some of those harmful myths surrounding the Iowa DOGE task force recommendation for the Iowa Public Employee Retirement System (IPERS). More than 400,000 Iowans are covered by IPERS. Eliminating or weakening this retirement system would not only hurt those covered but would devastate Iowa’s economy.

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 federal government is shuttered. Are there round-the-clock intense negotiations to find a way to reopen? Are leaders proposing new innovative ways to turn the lights back on?  Is there a sense of urgency? Is the president tirelessly practicing “his art of the deal”? 

No, none of that’s happening.

The Senate convenes to vote on both Republican and Democratic funding proposals, knowing neither will pass. There’s no urgency and little concern. After the gavel, they flee to sympathetic shout-shows to point fingers, hoping Americans will blame the other side. 

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 a quick fix—an easy answer, immediate satisfaction. We crave comfort. Pharmaceutical ads on TV may not mention what it cures, but if it cures fast, we love it. 

Have you been trapped in an early morning airport coffee line behind “complicated order person?” I have. Their order has more ingredients and steps than Grandma’s top secret chili recipe. Waiting, I sigh as loudly as I can and shrug my shoulders. Then I roll my eyes dramatically like every 13-year-old girl in English class. I’m praying the barista will take pity on my plight. She doesn’t. No quick fix for me.

Right now, we’re faced with politicians calling for a scary quick fix. Charlie Kirk was murdered. No one should celebrate any murder. It’s cruel and ugly. But it seems teachers and late-night comics are held to a higher standard than our political leaders.

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 

Schools are in full swing. Classes are packed with students, but some are missing a full-time teacher. 

If there’s a vacancy in most professions, another colleague takes up the slack. But teaching is unique. It’s impossible to make an unfilled teaching vacancy invisible since there are always 25 or 30 student witnesses.

As school begins in Iowa, the exact number of unfilled teaching vacancies is hard to determine. The Iowa Department of Education won’t release official numbers until late this year. So, is the teacher shortage a real problem, or nothing to worry about?

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 nothing wrong with politicians discussing their religious faith and beliefs. Religion is often a huge part of what makes a person who they are. There is, however, something terribly wrong when a candidate or office holder condemns all other religious beliefs by implying everyone in the United States should believe the way they do, and the country should make policy based on his beliefs. That’s religious nationalism. 

Religious nationalism is the belief that “a country’s historically predominant religion should be a central part of its national identity and drive policymaking.” It is linked to policies that promote one religion over others. It’s really just old-fashioned religious bigotry. 

Chris Prosch, the Republican candidate in the upcoming August 26 special election for Iowa Senate district 1, embraces religious nationalism. In 2022, Prosch’s firm “helped produce and distribute” a video called “Enemies Within the Church.” That video claimed mainline Christian denominations were corrupting Christianity because some leaders have become “woke.”

Randy Richardson is a former educator and retired associate executive director of the Iowa State Education Association. Bruce Lear taught for eleven years and represented educators as an Iowa State Education Association regional director for 27 years until retiring.

Every few years politicians recycle bad ideas that would make teaching even harder. Often, those ideas are long on rhetoric and short on common sense.

Historically, these stale ideas originate from an appointed task force, so politicians don’t have their fingerprints on the ideas if they backfire with the public. 

It’s happening again.

Governor Kim Reynolds’s DOGE Task Force met on August 6 and released a set of 45 recommendations that supposedly would make Iowa’s government more efficient. One of the proposals would establish “merit pay” for 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. 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.