Perrysburg Can’t Afford to be “Average”

Nobody moves to Perrysburg because they love roundabouts. Or because they’ve always dreamed of waiting twenty minutes to turn left at Levis Commons. People move here because it feels different — because it’s one of the last places where the downtown still smells like coffee and fresh paint, the river still looks like a postcard on summer nights, the bakery knows your order by heart, the schools still matter, and Friday nights can pull half the zip code to one set of bleachers.

Families come here for teachers who stay, neighbors who wave, and kids who grow up thinking “community service” isn’t a punishment. They come for Halloween on Louisiana Avenue, for the Christmas lights that make the rest of Northwest Ohio look like it’s stopped trying, and for the sense that this place — quiet, deliberate, and proud — still gets the basics right.

That didn’t happen by accident. It’s the result of years of steady investment, clear priorities, and a community that decided long ago that “good enough” wasn’t good enough. The November 4 levy isn’t about adding extras — it’s about keeping what works.

Because once a school system starts cutting the things that make it strong — reading help, bus routes, arts, athletics — it doesn’t grow back. Excellence takes time, people, and willpower. Letting it crumble to save the price of dinner out is like skipping oil changes to prove you’re frugal — it’s not saving money; it’s daring the engine to die.

The Math Is Simple — and So Are the Stakes

The 7.83-mill operating levy on the ballot would raise about $11 million per year for Perrysburg Schools — funding that pays for teachers, reading intervention, transportation, and athletics. For a homeowner with a $200,000 house, it’s roughly $35 a month — less than the price of streaming all three shows you swore you’d cancel after the free trial.

If it fails, $6 million in cuts kick in next year. That means:

• No athletics for grades 7–12
• Band, choir, and recess gone at Hull Prairie Intermediate
• Reading and STEM gutted at the elementary level
• No high school transportation, larger classes, and fewer counselors

It’s not belt-tightening. It’s civic liposuction — cutting deep and then bragging about the weight loss.

The Ripple Effect: When Schools Weaken, Communities Strain

You don’t need a PhD in economics to see it. Strong schools hold a town together; weak ones let it fray. Schools keep property values high, streets safer, and kids engaged. When they shrink, neighborhoods hollow out — the first quiet symptom of decline.

A good school isn’t just a building — it’s the town’s heartbeat. It’s where parents bump into each other, where teachers double as role models, and where kids learn that effort counts. When that rhythm stops, unstructured time creeps in, attention drifts, and trouble has room to grow.

Research backs it up: better-funded schools mean less delinquency, higher graduation rates, and stronger local economies. Undercut education, and crime, apathy, and “For Sale” signs fill the gaps.

In short: when kids lose structure, the community loses its backbone.

“Fiscal Responsibility” Means Facing Reality — Not Denial

Some argue Perrysburg should “live within its means.” The problem? We already are. We’ve cut $6 million and raided $7.5 million in one-time reserves just to stay afloat. That’s not extravagance — that’s triage.

Superintendent Kadee Anstadt and Assistant Superintendent Brooke Price have said it plainly: this isn’t politics, it’s math. You can’t run a championship program on clearance funding.

A “no” vote doesn’t send a message to the administration — it sends one to the kids. It tells them their education, their arts, their sports, their shot at opportunity aren’t worth $35 a month. It says that teachers can do more with less, again, while we congratulate ourselves for “discipline.”

Cutting programs doesn’t make us efficient; it makes us small. And small towns pretending to be big by neglecting what made them special — that’s not fiscal prudence. That’s civic self-sabotage.

Investing in Our Kids Is Not a Partisan Issue — It’s a Moral One

There’s nothing “liberal” or “conservative” about wanting kids to be safe, taught, and inspired. Strong schools are conservative — they conserve value. They protect neighborhoods. They reduce crime, raise property values, and turn potential into taxpayers.

Your home’s worth more because this district is. And that’s not an accident — that’s a dividend. Undercut the schools, and the return disappears.

As one parent put it at a board meeting:

“We didn’t move here for the potholes. We moved here for the teachers.”

That’s the truth — and the warning. Teachers, coaches, and counselors are what make this place more than coordinates on a map. They’re the ones who turn potential into direction. They shouldn’t be the first casualties of “fiscal caution.”

Every “no” vote is a quiet yes to decline. Every dollar “saved” is an opportunity erased. Every cut today is a headline we’ll regret tomorrow.

Perrysburg has never been a town that shrinks from responsibility. So ask yourself: do we still believe in the standard we built — or are we ready to let apathy balance the budget?

Because this isn’t about money. It’s about whether the next generation still gets to say, “I’m from Perrysburg” — and have it mean something.