Sarah Osofsky returned to school last year to earn her master’s degree in social work, hoping to give back to her community and find a job that would pay enough to survive Hawaiʻi’s high cost of living.

Now, less than two weeks away from graduation, the mother of two is struggling to find a position that can sustain her family.

Most social work jobs she’s seen in recent months offer salaries of $60,000 or less — enough to disqualify her from safety net programs like food stamps, but not enough to comfortably provide for her kids. She’s considered moving back to California where she has family who could support her, but she wants to stay in Hawaiʻi so her children can be near their dad.

“What I’m balancing right now is, do I take a low, low paying job that then I’ll qualify for services like food stamps and Medicaid,” Osofsky said, “or do I hold out and try to find those few and far between really good jobs that will make enough so I don’t qualify but I don’t need it.”

Osofsky’s struggle is a familiar one for working families in Hawaiʻi. In 2024, nearly 30% of Hawaiʻi households were living paycheck-to-paycheck and struggling to afford basic necessities like housing, child care and food, according to an annual count of the state’s ALICE families — an acronym for people who are asset limited, income constrained, and employed.

Like Osofsky, roughly 40% of these families considered leaving the state over the past year, according to a study from Aloha United Way.

While some reports indicate that more locals have been returning to Hawaiʻi in the last few years, the state’s high cost of living continues to drive some families away, straining the public education system and economy.

Earlier this year, the Department of Education said its kindergarten enrollment dropped from 13,000 in 2019 to nearly 10,800 this year, citing estimates that 20% of people leaving Hawaiʻi are school-aged kids. The department is now starting the process of consolidating small schools, although it hasn’t yet identified which campuses are at risk of closure.

A few years ago, state lawmakers grappling with the Covid-19 pandemic proposed a bold slate of reforms to improve the plight of working families: free school meals for all, universal access to preschool and paid family leave. But the state’s big plans for progress have resulted in incremental steps, and some families and advocates say change isn’t happening quickly enough.

Lawmakers this session created a working group to study paid family leave but failed to turn the yearslong proposal into law. The state expanded eligibility for preschool tuition subsidies and funded preschool construction but failed to address the ongoing shortage of early learning educators. And Senate Bill 1300 — considered one of the biggest wins for students this year — expanded access to free school meals but stopped short of providing them for all kids.

At the same time, uncertainty looms around the future of programs that rely on federal dollars to support working families, including school meals and early learning centers.

Amid the upheaval, state lawmakers were hesitant to pass big spending measures this year, opting instead to set aside $200 million to help Hawaiʻi prepare for federal funding cuts. But some advocates say now is exactly the time for the state to make a bigger investment in families.

“The state Legislature, and frankly, the counties, should be thinking, ‘Bad stuff is coming,’” said Deborah Zysman, executive director of Hawaiʻi Children’s Action Network. “We don’t quite know what yet, but we should be thinking about how to take care of our own people.”

An Urgent Need For Child Care

During the Covid-19 pandemic, Osofsky worried about the social development of her son, who was just turning 2 when lockdown restrictions began. But when he began attending the University of Hawaiʻi Mānoa Children’s Center later that year, Osofsky said, he received services for his speech delay and became comfortable making friends and recognizing letters.

But paying for preschool was a challenge, Osofsky said. The Preschool Open Doors program provides a state subsidy to help cover tuition, but her son was ineligible when he started because the program only covered 4-year-olds at the time. The program expanded to include 3-year-olds last year.

Hawaiʻi has pledged to offer preschool to all 3- and 4-year-olds by 2032. The Ready Keiki initiative, led by Lt. Gov. Sylvia Luke, currently estimates the state needs to add more than 330 classrooms in the next seven years to provide preschool to an additional 6,700 children.

While lawmakers successfully expanded access to tuition subsidies and funded more preschool construction this year, progress toward the state’s ambitious goal has slowed on other fronts.

One successful bill this session expands eligibility for preschool subsidies by including 2-year-olds and repealing the requirement that families must use the subsidy at a nationally accredited provider, which has created financial and administrative barriers for smaller programs in the past, Zysman said.

But the Department of Human Services is on track to spend only $20 million of its $50 million budget for preschool subsidies this year, said Scott Morishige, administrator of the department’s Benefit, Employment and Support Services Division.

To ramp up its spending, DHS is considering expanding the income eligibility to 500% of the federal poverty line. If DHS adopts the rules this summer, Morishige said, a family of four could make up to $184,000 annually and still be eligible for assistance, compared to the past income limit of $110,000.

The state budget sets aside $20 million to build more public preschool classrooms over the next three years. The state plans on opening 25 public preschool classrooms this fall and an additional 25 classrooms the following year, far less than previous estimates that Hawaiʻi could build 40-50 classrooms annually.

While the state would like to take a more aggressive approach to opening public preschool classrooms moving forward, Luke said, the Ready Keiki initiative is also relying on private providers and charter schools to help expand access. The state is starting larger construction projects, like standalone preschool centers, that could add seats more rapidly as they open in the next few years.

“There is an urgency for us to open as many preschool seats as we can,” she said.

But families’ demand for preschool could grow beyond what the state has anticipated if the federal government stops funding its own child care programs. Head Start, which relies on federal funding and serves roughly 2,800 children and pregnant mothers, is currently Hawaiʻi’s largest provider of early learning services, said Ryan Kusumoto, president and CEO of the nonprofit Parents And Children Together.

The Trump administration has previously threatened to cut funding entirely for Head Start, although the most recent version of the federal budget keeps program funding intact. Some Hawaiʻi Head Start programs are still waiting to receive confirmation for next year’s funding, and the recent closure of some regional offices could create backlogs in awarding this money, said Ben Naki, president of the Head Start Association of Hawaiʻi.

“There’s no existing infrastructure that can pick up those 2,800 kids,” Kusumoto said. “And we’re talking about kids who don’t have any other resources.”

First Steps For Free Meals

Since September, Christine Russo said paying for meals has become a greater challenge for her family as her twins joined her 10-year-old in attending school every day. She sets aside roughly $180 each month so her kids can purchase breakfast and lunch at school — a challenge for the public school teacher, whose husband is a retail store manager.

Russo’s kids don’t qualify for free or reduced-price school meals, but she said her family could still benefit from the ongoing push to bring back a pandemic-era program that made meals free for all students.

Lawmakers stopped short of funding a universal free meals program this year but took incremental steps by passing Senate Bill 1300. Starting next year, the state will provide free school meals to students who currently qualify for reduced-price lunch. The following year, eligibility for free school meals would be expanded to families making up to 300% of the federal poverty level, or roughly $110,000 for a family of four.

The bill appropriates $565,000 to provide more free school meals next year and an additional $3.4 million for the program’s expansion the following year. More than 68,000 students in the Department of Education qualified for free meals this year, and 10,000 qualified for reduced-price meals.

The bill also requires schools feed students who don’t have enough money to purchase lunch or already have meal debt. Students have accrued more than $105,000 in meal debt this school year, DOE communications director Nanea Ching said.

At Castle High School, junior Tayli Kahoopii said she receives free meals, but some of her friends don’t qualify. When someone doesn’t have enough money in their account to purchase lunch, the register makes a buzzing sound — loud enough to embarrass students and, in one instance, deter Kahoopii’s friend from trying to purchase meals for a week.

“On a daily basis, you see kids getting their food taken away, and there’s really nothing that they can do about it,” Kahoopii said, adding that it’s difficult for students to learn and focus when they don’t have access to food during the school day.

Rep. Scot Matayoshi, who has introduced bills for the past three years proposing free school meals, said SB1300 is an important step. But he still plans on advocating for universal free school meals in the coming years, especially since it would reduce the administrative barriers schools and families face in determining who qualifies for free meals.

Daniela Spoto, director of food equity at Hawaiʻi Appleseed, said providing all students with free school meals could also become more important with federal funding on the line. Proposed federal cuts to a program allowing schools in low-income areas to provide free meals to all children could impact 52 schools and more than 27,000 kids in Hawaiʻi, according to estimates from the Food Research and Action Center.

“It should be a staple for our schools to have free school lunch,” said Castle junior Haliʻa Tom-Jardine, who will begin qualifying for free school meals next year. “It should be a right.”

‘Bad Things Are Coming’

During the pandemic, people saw lawmakers step up and meet the needs of working families through federal initiatives like the child tax credit and free school meals, said Kayla Keehu-Alexander, vice president of community impact at Aloha United Way. Now, she said, state lawmakers need to do the same during times of uncertainty.

“If we don’t start making some big policy changes around the cost of living, around housing, we could potentially be looking at a larger out-migration than we’ve had in the past,” she said.

Hawaiʻi is already starting to see the possible impacts of out-migration on its schools and economy. While some people are coming back to Hawaiʻi to raise families, Keehu-Alexander said, it’s unclear if they’re joining the workforce in areas with the worst staffing shortages, like education or healthcare.

Looking ahead to next year, Zysman said she would like to see a successful bill establishing paid family leave in Hawaiʻi, which would provide caregivers paid time off to care for their loved ones. Lawmakers have failed to pass a bill for several years, although they did approve a resolution last month establishing a working group that will study how to implement paid family leave over the next year.

Zysman added that she’s concerned about the long-term impacts of the historic tax cut lawmakers passed last year. While she supports cuts that can make it more affordable for people to stay in Hawaiʻi, she said, she’s worried that tax breaks for the wealthiest will make it harder for the state to fund programs that can keep working families afloat.

“In my gut, I feel like bad things are coming,” Zysman said, “and we should have acted more preemptively.”

This was originally published on . Civil Beat’s education reporting is supported by a grant from Chamberlin Family Philanthropy.

The phrase “say the hard part out loud” has had a moment in the national spotlight recently. And within West Virginia, you’ll hear it repeatedly when you talk to education professionals in the Eastern Panhandle about teacher pay.

Something else you’ll hear with regularity is the word “crisis.”

Michelle Barnhart, a social studies teacher at Martinsburg’s South Middle School in Berkeley County, has seen the teacher shortage turn from a growing problem into something much more serious.

“When I started teaching in 2017, you had to be actively working on your degree to even be considered for a position. Now, they’re putting people with associate degrees — or no degree at all — into classrooms as full-time teachers,” she said. “They aren’t supposed to, but they have no choice.”

The state, added Barnhart, is ignoring the problem.

“Charleston doesn’t see it, or chooses not to. People downstate don’t understand that many of the adults in these kids’ classrooms up here aren’t actually teachers — because the teachers have gone elsewhere for better pay.”

Imagine, she said, if hospitals started hiring people with no medical background to be doctors. “Just pulling people off the street, handing them a clipboard, and saying, ‘Here, practice medicine.’ That’s what’s happening here in education.”

Barnhart said that many of her colleagues and fellow educators feel powerless at the end of the day.

“The cost of living in the panhandle is nowhere near the rest of West Virginia, but teachers, state workers — anyone whose salary is coded into law — get the same base pay. If you live elsewhere, that’s not a big deal. But if you move here, you suddenly realize this is a crisis.”

Parents, she said, are often unaware of just how bad the situation has become.

“They’ll see the bus driver shortage on the news and get outraged about routes being cut. But they don’t know what’s happening inside the classrooms. They don’t see how many positions go unfilled all year, or how often classes are just split up when a teacher calls out — overcrowding the ones that are already at their limit.”

Even for those who stay, Barnhart said, burnout is inevitable.

“You have algebra teachers covering trigonometry. English teachers covering history. Some days, they still can’t find someone to cover,” she said. “When that happens, learning just stops.”

Andrew Fincham, a health and physical education teacher at Martinsburg High School in Berkeley County, has seen the pattern repeat itself year after year.

“It’s only getting worse,” he said. “And with the population growth in the panhandle, we’re running out of room. Classrooms are overflowing, and we’re sticking kids in trailers to make it work — but the turnover rate with teachers is staggering.”

Currently, Berkeley County’s student population alone —  — exceeds the of 26 entire counties in West Virginia. As of the start of the current school year in August 2024, Berkeley County had permanent substitutes hired.

“We’re losing an alarming number of teachers every year throughout the county — whether it’s retirement or leaving for more money,” Fincham said. “And the impact on students is undeniable — all schools, all grade levels.”

Fincham doesn’t see the “revolving door” getting any better without major policy changes.

“All the nearby states — Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania — adjust salaries based on cost of living. West Virginia doesn’t. It’s easy to see where this is headed. If the state doesn’t start thinking about this in a new way, in five years, it’ll be catastrophic.”

The impact on retention, added Barnhart, can’t be overstated.

“Berkeley and Jefferson counties, especially, have become steppingstones. Teachers come here, get a few years of experience, and then leave for better pay — often nearby.”

For Barnhart, the predicament is both personal and professional. “I have kids in this school system; I see it as a parent and as an educator,” she said. “It’s frustrating because I don’t want to leave, but at some point, I might not have a choice.”

Considering almost all those choices are within 30 minutes or less, Barnhart admitted it’s hard to ignore the disparity.

“If I left for Frederick County Schools [Virginia], I’d make over $6,400 more per year,” she said. “In Washington County [Maryland], over $11,500 more. And Loudoun County [Northern Virginia], almost $25,000 more.”

The numbers don’t lie

At the end of the day, however, this isn’t a new conversation for people like Barnhart, Fincham, and thousands of others within the region. In recent decades, West Virginia’s education landscape has been punctuated by significant teacher strikes, notably in and 2018 — both primarily driven by concerns over inadequate compensation and escalating health care costs.

The , in particular, saw approximately 20,000 educators and school personnel shutting down schools across all 55 counties, culminating in a 5% pay raise for all state workers.

And yet, in 2025 — as in most years previous — West Virginia sits either nationally or perilously close to dead last on just about any average teacher salary list you come across — jostling for position between Florida, South Dakota and Missouri year after year. Be that as it may, according to the most recent data available from the National Education Association, the estimated national average annual salary for teachers — while West Virginia shuffles in at .

That said, the Eastern Panhandle’s three core counties — Berkeley, Jefferson and Morgan — are the fastest-growing in the state, and closest to the Washington, D.C., metropolitan area, making them highly susceptible to issues like cost-of-living disparities and teacher-pay inequities.

According to the most recent data from the West Virginia Department of Education, the in Berkeley County lands at $55,412; the average for Jefferson County comes in at $54,153; and Morgan County sits at $55,624.

Compare that to West Virginia’s poorest county, McDowell, where the average teacher salary is . However, the average home value in McDowell County hovers with the median home sale price standing at approximately $41,000. Accordingly, almost all cost-of-living data is lower or significantly lower in . To that end, $53,296 goes a long way there, as it does in numerous other counties in West Virginia that boast similar cost-of-living data.

By contrast, average home values in Berkeley County climb into the . In Jefferson County, it’s even higher, with values . In Morgan County, values can . The cost of living within these three counties is commensurate with those values. But the average teacher salary within the Eastern Panhandle comes in at $55,063 — not even $2,000 more annually than West Virginia’s poorest county.

Talk to anyone close to this issue, and they will tell you in no uncertain terms — it’s becoming all but impossible to work as a teacher or education service worker in the Eastern Panhandle and pay the bills. And when extra money does arrive, it’s in the form of a statewide raise — without consideration for locality pay — which keeps that allotment relatively small in proportion to the ever-widening economic gap between the Eastern Panhandle and the rest of the state.

Bargaining power

“It’s economics 101,” said John Deskins, director of West Virginia University’s Bureau of Business and Economic Research. “If salaries remain the same across the state, schools in more competitive job markets like the Eastern Panhandle will struggle to attract and retain teachers. It’s a matter of supply and demand — higher costs and a stronger labor market require higher pay.”

Berkeley County Schools Superintendent Ryan Saxe, formerly superintendent in Cabell County, echoed the sentiment — and admitted to not fully grasping the depth of the problem until taking his current job.

“In my previous county, we competed with Ohio and Kentucky for teachers, but the disparity wasn’t nearly as severe as what we see here with Maryland and Virginia,” he said.

Saxe doesn’t believe West Virginia needs to match those salaries dollar for dollar, “
 but we must close the gap,” he said. “Right now, we have around 200 permanent substitute positions because we can’t fill them with certified staff. That depletes our substitute pool and leaves us constantly reposting vacancies for high-need areas.”

Sen. Patricia Rucker, R-Jefferson, believes part of the issue is Charleston’s reluctance to even acknowledge cost-of-living disparities.

“The federal government has already done the research to determine appropriate salary increases for employees based on regional economic conditions,” she said. “A similar approach for public employees in high-cost areas in our state makes sense.”

But the push for locality pay has failed repeatedly, she said, primarily due to opposition from lawmakers outside the Eastern Panhandle.

“The Senate has passed similar measures three times, only for them to fail in the House,” Rucker said, “The last time, we were 14 votes short. That’s a big gap.”

The resistance comes from a long-standing belief in uniform pay across all 55 counties, said Dale Lee, president of the West Virginia Education Association.

“But that resistance mindset ignores an economic reality,” Lee said. “A few years ago, an attempt to secure locality pay for state police was soundly defeated. The challenge is that while it would benefit a few counties, the majority wouldn’t see any advantage — so their delegates aren’t inclined to support it.”

Instead of direct locality pay, some legislators are exploring alternatives, like reducing the “local share,” which would allow high-growth counties to keep more of their tax revenue to fund education salaries.

“If that money is earmarked for salaries and benefits, it could be a real solution,” Lee said.

As Lee indicated, the shortage isn’t limited to teachers — state police, social workers and other public employees face the same problem in high-cost areas.

Former West Virginia delegate John Doyle has been advocating for locality pay for over 30 years, first proposing a housing allowance in the early 2000s as a way to soften opposition.

“The state would provide a housing allowance based on cost-of-living data,” he said. “Every county would be ranked from 1 to 55, with the median county serving as the baseline. Any county ranked above the median would receive some level of housing allowance — smaller for those just above, larger for the highest-cost counties.”

He recalled that when cost-of-living data was first released to legislators, some were stunned by the housing prices in the Eastern Panhandle. “They assumed we all lived in large homes. I had to explain that I lived in a 1,000-square-foot FHA rancher, and it was worth almost double the state average.”

Doyle also warned against the idea that raising salaries in border counties would simply cause a ripple effect of teacher migration.

“Salaries don’t need to match Maryland and Virginia — just get close enough. If the gap is $20,000, they’ll leave. If it’s $10,000 or less, they might stay.”

But the state has spent decades failing to act. Doyle pointed out that in 1990, West Virginia was ranked 26th in teacher pay after a major statewide raise under former Gov. Gaston Caperton. By the late 1990s, Maryland and Virginia had surged past it once again.

“Every few years, the issue reaches a boiling point, like the 2018 teacher strike, which resulted in a 5% statewide raise — but failed to address the Eastern Panhandle’s unique economic challenges,” he underscored.

With legislative momentum reliably sluggish, greater political action might be required, said Rucker — who also chairs the Government Organization Committee.

“If we don’t have enough qualified teachers, we are failing to meet our constitutional obligation to provide an efficient education system. A class action lawsuit could force the state’s hand,” she said.

On the economic side, Deskins sees another consequence of inaction: economic decline.

“If schools decline due to this crisis, the region becomes far less appealing. People don’t want to move to areas with struggling schools, which would ultimately slow economic growth,” Deskins said.

Essentially, explained Deskins, West Virginia’s fastest-growing region — the only part of the state successfully attracting new residents — is being left to fend for itself.

“From a broad economic-development perspective, we’re making one of the state’s most promising regions less attractive — ultimately working against ourselves,” Deskins said.

The political fight will only continue, and will hopefully play a prominent role in the current legislative session, said Doyle — who believes the Eastern Panhandle finally has strength in numbers.

“The Eastern Panhandle now has more than 10% of the legislature,” Doyle said. “That gives our delegation real bargaining power. If they unify and make this a non-negotiable priority, they can trade support on other bills to get it passed.”

Rucker agreed.

“The delegates from this region have better strength in numbers, and are working hard to educate their colleagues and emphasize that this benefits the entire state, not just the Panhandle,” she said.

Nonetheless, Lee remains skeptical.

“In my experience, when the legislature makes something a priority, they find the money for it,” he said. “If this becomes a priority, a solution will follow. But that remains to be seen.”

Doyle, however, was more blunt: “At the heart of it all is the fact that the state doesn’t want to give money to teachers because they want to be able to give a giant tax break to corporations.”

Repeated requests for comment from State Superintendent of Schools Michele Blatt went unanswered.

The cost of inaction

Imagine a moment in the near future in the Eastern Panhandle — likely Berkeley or Jefferson Counties — when a brand-new high school opens with all the pomp and circumstance that comes with such occasions. And on day one, as the doors open and the students pour through them en route to homeroom and the new year ahead, not a single certified teacher is there to greet them. Rather, every room, and every subject, is being covered by a substitute.

Sounds crazy? Many education professionals in the Eastern Panhandle are calling it something else: inevitable.

“I can easily see that happening — we’re drowning,” said Jana Woofter, a chemistry and physical science teacher at Spring Mills High School in Martinsburg. Woofter also serves as president of the Berkeley County Education Association.

“Bills are often triple what they are in other parts of the state,” she said. “Housing costs are through the roof. Berkeley County tries to help with a housing allowance, but Jefferson and Morgan counties don’t have those same benefits. Even with the assistance, my members are struggling — especially with PEIA [West Virginia’s Public Employees Insurance Agency] .”

The struggle isn’t just with the state. Clay Anders, a physical education teacher at C.W. Shipley Elementary in Jefferson County’s Harpers Ferry, is frustrated that even as property values have doubled, teachers haven’t seen a county-based raise in over a decade.

“The local levy passed again, and there’s millions in additional revenue coming in — but none of it has gone to us in quite a while,” he said. “Meanwhile, the board office has added new positions and given themselves raises every year.”

As of Nov. 6, 2024, the passed with ease — totaling $25,427,656. According to Jefferson County Schools, the bulk of the levy — $19,376,035 — will go to “salary assistance for teachers and service personnel.”

At the same time, Anders pointed out, extra-pay options that once existed for Jefferson County educators have disappeared.

“The county cut a program that allowed teachers to earn up to 3,000 extra dollars per year. That was real money that made a difference. But then they phased it down to $1,500, and now it’s gone completely.”

The level of participation in that program told him everything he needed to know.

“Nearly 98% of eligible teachers took part in it,” Anders said. “That should tell you how much we need the money.”

He believes that if the county won’t act, teachers may have to take matters into their own hands.

“Maryland and Virginia have county-based unions that fight for local pay,” Anders said. “West Virginia doesn’t. We only have state-level unions, and they aren’t fighting county battles.”

Additionally, Anders and a group of teachers are preparing a Freedom of Information Act request to uncover exactly where the money is going.

“The board claims there’s no money for teacher raises, yet they’re increasing salaries at the top. If every million dollars in new revenue could mean an $800 to $900 raise per teacher, then where is that money going?”

The answer, at least in Berkeley County, according to Board of Education member Damon Wright, is complicated.

“Most of our budget already goes to salaries,” Wright said. “And we’ve denied requests for new administrative positions to keep costs down. But we continue to have growth needs — especially when it comes to mental health services for students, which require more funding.

“That said, every time we dip into reserves, we run the risk of the state stepping in and questioning our financial management. We’ve increased the housing allowance, and we’ll keep looking for ways to supplement pay, but we can’t solve this alone.”

The challenges only get more complex, he said, when Charleston refuses to act.

“The state doesn’t believe in cost-of-living adjustments. They think if we raise salaries in high-cost areas like the panhandle, teachers from rural counties will flood the region. But that’s not realistic. Most teachers in McDowell and similar counties are among the highest-paid professionals in their communities. Here, teachers need roommates just to afford rent.”

Michelle Pereschuk, a special education teacher at South Middle School, called the system broken and confessed that teachers are running out of reasons to stay — including herself.

“I’ve been at the tipping point for years,” she said. “I was born and raised in Berkeley County. My kids are in the school system. I want to stay — but I can’t afford it much longer.”

Like many in the county, Pereschuk’s mortgage swallows her paycheck. She once considered a position in nearby Washington County, Maryland, that would have paid her $11,000 more in the first year and up to $17,000 more over time. She ultimately stayed due to personal reasons, but the pull to leave grows stronger every day.

“Winchester City Schools and Frederick County, [both in Virginia], are 20 minutes from my house. Maryland and Virginia also allow out-of-state teachers to send their kids to school there. For the first three years, you pay a small tuition fee, then your kids attend for free. If I move, I could take my youngest with me and give him a better-funded education while making a lot more money.”

Such decisions aren’t just being measured in Pereschuk’s household, she assured, but rather, in many homes across the region.

“Off the top of my head, I can name at least 10 people in my school alone who are seriously considering leaving,” she said.

Woofter, who works multiple jobs to make ends meet, added that, even for those who choose to stay, survival requires sacrifices.

“I run the science fair for my school and the county, coordinate academic competitions, tutor, sell tickets at events — anything to make extra money. If I moved across the border, I wouldn’t have to do all that. But I stay because I love it here.”

As for rising insurance costs, Wright said, whatever raises the state offers at this point are quickly wiped out by PEIA increases.

“The misconception is that a raise actually means more money,” he said. “It doesn’t. When insurance premiums jump 40%, and co-pays triple, as they’re set to do, it’s actually a pay cut. Later this summer, when those PEIA increases hit, I think we’ll see a mass exodus — not just teachers, but public employees across the board.”

Without action, warned Woofter, the situation will only deteriorate. She’s already seeing it play out at her own school.

“Spring Mills High School opened in 2013. In just over a decade, fewer than 20 original staff members remain. That kind of turnover is devastating.”

Moreover, Wright said, Charleston’s inaction is feeding into another, larger movement — the privatization of education.

“Rather than addressing the crisis in public schools, the state is using the decline as an excuse to push private schools, charter schools and voucher programs,” he said. “The problem is, 25% of Berkeley County’s students have special needs, and public schools are required to serve them — private schools are not.”

West Virginia doesn’t fully fund those services so counties cover the gap.

“If lawmakers shift funding away from public schools to private options, that burden grows,” Wright said. “They’re letting the system fail so they can justify alternatives.”

At the end of the day, he said the community is the last line of defense.

“We’re already in crisis mode — whether the state chooses to address it or not. The public needs to understand just how bad this is getting. And the only way any of this changes is if the public demands it — loudly. If people in the panhandle make enough noise, Charleston can’t ignore it forever.”

is part of States Newsroom, a nonprofit news network supported by grants and a coalition of donors as a 501c(3) public charity. West Virginia Watch maintains editorial independence. Contact Editor Leann Ray for questions: info@westvirginiawatch.com.