Brandon Johnson is giving Chicago’s teachers’ union everything
It may well cost him his political career
Last year, when he was campaigning to be mayor of Chicago, Brandon Johnson, a former organiser for the Chicago Teachers Union, was asked how he would handle negotiating a contract with his former employers, especially when money is tight. He answered simply: “Who better to deliver bad news to friends than a friend?” The teachers’ union downplayed hopes of special favours. “Brandon is a remarkable person who has a lot of principles,” said Jesse Sharkey, a former head of the union.
Over a year later, Mr Johnson shows little interest in delivering bad news to the people who helped him become mayor. In fact, he is showing that there is no greater love than to lay down your political career for your friends. The mayor was elected in large part thanks to the heavy financial backing of the teachers’ union, and it expects to be repaid in contract negotiations this year. But the money to do so is lacking. Rather than admit that, Mr Johnson has tied himself into knots and offended almost every other constituency in the city, including his own progressive allies.
On October 7th he appointed a new school board, after all the original members resigned. Mr Johnson had wanted them to fire the head of the school district, Pedro Martinez, and they refused. Mr Martinez opposes the mayor’s plan to fill a looming deficit in the schools budget by taking on a $300m short-term loan. The resignations—and Mr Johnson’s hasty replacements—have thrown Chicago’s local government into chaos.
On paper Chicago’s schools are generously funded. Total spending by the school district works out at around $29,500 per pupil, compared with a national average of $19,000. Teachers in Chicago are also already rather well paid (the average salary is $93,000). But too much of the budget is spent repaying historical debt, and on pensions. And Chicago has too many schools. Over decades total enrolment has shrunk, especially in black neighbourhoods, and three-fifths of schools are underused.
One high school on the West Side of the city, Frederick Douglass Academy, has just 27 students, in a building meant for 900. Keeping it open costs the equivalent of $68,000 per pupil, roughly four times what is spent directly (after debt and other centralised costs) in the average school.
Closing schools in black neighbourhoods is unpopular. When Rahm Emanuel, a former mayor, did it a decade ago, it may have tanked his mayoral career. Under Mr Johnson, Mr Martinez has done the opposite, allowing more money to flow to struggling schools. But the covid-relief funds that have made this possible are now running out. The school district faces a budget deficit of $500m this year. Other school districts in America are making cuts: San Francisco recently announced it will close several schools. In Chicago that is apparently unthinkable. Instead teachers say they want 9% pay rises and every school to be staffed as though it is fully occupied.
A $300m loan will only mean a bigger hole next year. Even those formerly supportive of the mayor recognise the problem. “If you are maxing out your credit card at home, you can barely make payments, and somebody proposes you take out another high-interest loan, that isn’t solving your problem,” says Andre Vasquez, a progressive alderman. He is one of 41 out of 50 city-council members who signed a letter opposing the mayor.
Mr Johnson, who has the power to jam through the $300m loan, is defiant. Announcing the new board appointments, he compared “so-called fiscally responsible stewards” to supporters of slavery. He says he was elected to be transformative, not to “nibble around the edges”. But by 2027 his appointed school board will be replaced with a 21-member elected one. The mayor seems to want to give his pals a big raise, and let others work out how to pay for it. ■