Iowa Republicans are selling us a education timeshare

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

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

As we stepped into the building, we entered the Timeshare Zone. Nothing is what it seems, and everything is too good to be true.

Suddenly a light flashed in my head, “This isn’t a time share, is it? It was. Discounted shows were the bribe for a 90-minute captivity the next morning listening to “Vacation opportunities,” not time-shares.

The next morning, I skipped breakfast to make myself captivity mean. The first salesperson was a nice guy from Kingsley, Iowa. He denied we’d been matched, but we knew. He was the soft sell guy. He smiled a lot and assured us there was no pressure.

After, we sat through a slick, group talk complete with pretty photos and pretty promises about vacations being within our grasp. After that, we went back to the Kingsley guy, but his hard-edge manager hovered close.

He swooped in to give us prices. We said, “no.” About then, I became the mean negotiator. I obviously checked my phone for time and then asked, “Aren’t there hundreds of companies offering to help you escape time-shares?”

It was like farting in Sunday school.

With a growl in his voice, he scowled and assured, “That was the old-style plan.”

The last guy offered us a final chance for multiple opportunities, and quickly morphed from sunny salesman to a Trump/DeSantis blend.

Being held captive in the Timeshare Zone reminded me of Iowa politics. Gov. Kim Reynolds and her legislative minions are selling something too good to be true, and like unsuspecting travelers, Iowa seems ready to believe.

Here are questions to break out of political captivity.

There’s a reason the middle name for every public school is “community.” Do we really want to destroy our community schools, with chronic underfunding championed by a governor and a director of education who worships at the private school altar?

Everyone believes parents should be an integral part of their children’s education. But do we really want parents dictating day-to-day curriculum and running the school based on their political ideology?

We once joked about Mississippi being backward in education. Are we comfortable now with Iowa becoming the Mississippi of the Midwest?

Parents should be able to monitor books their kids read. But do we want parents making decisions about what books all children should read?

Choice sounds great. But should public tax dollars be used for private schools when most rural parents have no choice within driving distance, there’s no fiscal accountability, and no one knows what it will really cost?

We want school boards representing the community. But do we want school board meetings, instead of discussing real issues, devolving into partisan wars over books and how to treat vulnerable LQBTQ kids?

Reynolds and her minions have become carnival barkers for culture wars instead of real problem solvers. Like in the Timeshare Zone, they can’t tell the truth because the truth will cause Iowans to flee captivity.

How do we escape? We ask tough questions and if we don’t get straight answers, we use our vote.

Bruce Lear lives in Sioux City and has been connected to public schools for 38 years.