The Pendulum of Support for Gym Class Has Swung From One Extreme to Another, and is Swinging Yet Again

---

By Judy Blankenship

PORTLAND, Oregon—
On this sunny April afternoon, 16 kindergartners at Glencoe Elementary are running 400-yard laps around the grassy, tree-lined track behind the school. To keep the five-year-olds moving and "out of trouble," PE teacher Jim Anstine walks the track counterclockwise, greeting each child by name and holding up his hand for a high five as they run by.

"That's good, Lucy, keep going," he urges a dark-haired girl who's dawdling along. To an observer, he reminisces, "I taught her mother as a fifth-grader."

"Higher, Mr. A, higher!" a boy yells. Rushing right at Anstine, the boy executes a "hoop jump" as he sails by.

With wiry gray hair and lively eyes behind tinted glasses, Mr. A, as everyone calls Anstine, has taught for nearly two decades at Glencoe, a pretty, mission-style school of 500 kids on Portland's inner-southeast side. But there was a time 10 years ago when his job looked like anything but a sure bet.

"I was a full-time PE specialist at the time of Measure 5," Anstine says, referring to the property-tax limitation law Oregonians passed in 1990 that radically cut funding to the state's 246 school districts. "I felt stressed like all of our specialists did, and I started preparing for an elementary classroom teaching position by going back to school. "

Anstine was lucky. With strong support for PE at Glencoe, he kept his post. But many of his PE colleagues were not so fortunate. In the rural town of Mollala in Oregon's wet Willamette Valley, Susan Fatland—another longtime veteran of the field—tells a very different story. In 1995, when the district was forced by Measure 5 to lay off all but two K-8 PE teachers, Fatland was among those who lost their jobs. She settled into a sales position at Nordstrom.

But the following spring, her principal asked her to come back. Mollala had reconfigured the district to create an 800-student middle school, with positions for four PE teachers. "When I asked if it was a sure thing, he said, 'Oh yes, we're going to go forward.'"

So back to Mollala she went. Things were looking good—until spring rolled around again. "The principal called us in and said, 'I hate to do this, but budget cuts force us to lay off the entire department.'

"I was devastated."

She began a series of part-time PE jobs, moving from school to school around the region. Slowly, she worked her way back up to the 0.8 position she now holds at Mountain View Middle School in Beaverton. But for Fatland and hundreds of her PE colleagues in Oregon, the professional landscape had changed forever.

Ballot Measure 5, passed by Oregon voters in November 1990, is only the most visible assault to physical education in the state. Over the past 30 years, PE in Oregon has lost ground to a number of other factors, both fiscal and philosophical. The biggest hits have come from the back-to-basics movement of the 1970s and the standards movement of the 1990s. Both movements zeroed in on academic subjects. Other subjects—art, drama, music, PE—got stalled on the sidelines.

"I don't think it was just Measure 5," says Barbara Cusimano, Associate Professor of Exercise and Sports Science at Oregon State University. "Educational reform hit about the same time as the budget cuts. Schools were being asking to do more but with less funding, and school administrators had to face difficult choices." School administrators, stuck between growing demands and diminishing resources, reasoned that they should direct resources to those areas where the state is holding them accountable, Cusimano notes.

Finally, though, gym class is regaining lost ground in Oregon. New research on kids' abysmal fitness has in part fueled that reversal. The tenacious efforts of dedicated PE proponents have also helped sway opinion. The public and policymakers are once again seeing the need for kids to sweat at school.

SLASHING BUDGETS

While Measure 5 is not alone to blame for Oregon's PE woes, it is a major culprit. The infamous ballot measure dramatically changed how the state's schools are funded. The law capped local property taxes and required the state to make up the lost revenue. For the first couple of years, state coffers and local cash reserves were able to cushion the effect of the new law. But by school year 1992-93, massive teacher layoffs began. Shock waves were felt around the state as athletic and activities budgets were slashed, and PE was scaled back or cut altogether.

The cuts hit a flash point in March 1996, when Portland, the state's largest district, announced it would be forced to eliminate about 500 jobs and cut 15 special programs. At the same time that Measure 5 went into effect, the state instituted a new formula to close the revenue gap between districts and equalize per-pupil spending statewide. While some rural, low-spending districts saw their funding increase by up to 25 percent, Portland's school budget shrunk by about $50 million in the six years after Measure 5. By 1996 the district was spending 21 percent less on each student. For every 1,000 students studying art, music, or drama, there were just two teachers. For those interested in fitness, sports, and physical education, there were sometimes no teachers at all.

"We've cut all the fat out," Parkrose Superintendent Jacki Bottingim told The Oregonian newspaper in March 1996. "Then we cut the meat to the bone. The only thing left is the heart."

Ironically, Oregon's economy was booming with an influx of high-tech industries, and in June 1991 the state Legislature had overwhelmingly passed the most ambitious school-reform plan in the nation.

The Oregon Educational Reform Act for the 21st Century—with the ambitious goal of creating "the best educated and best prepared workforce in America by the year 2000 and equal to any in the world by 2010"—raised academic standards for high school students in English, math, science, and social studies. PE was not among the subjects required for the certificates of mastery high school students were expected to earn.

DECADES OF DECLINE

PE teacher Don Zehrung has been around long enough to remember when PE held a solid position in Oregon schools. "Fifteen years before the passage of Ballot Measure 5, the job situation was a lot better," he reports. "PE may not have been on a level playing field with core curriculum subjects, but it was still recognized as an integral part of the school day. Back then kids had PE every day, just as they had math and language arts," Zehrung says.

Another long-time Oregon teacher, Diana Boyte, recalls a richness of courses available to high school students 30 years ago that is almost unbelievable in today's bare-bones environment.

"Every high school student took two years of PE," says Boyte, who retired last spring after a long career in the Portland-area suburb of Beaverton. "Beyond the required personal fitness class, a student could elect five other PE courses, which included summer fishing, winter fishing, archery, tennis, and golf, as well as all the traditional team sports."

Summer fishing? Golf? This dream world of PE courses available to some Oregon students, albeit those who lived in well-funded districts such as Beaverton, was too good to last. "Years before Measure 5 the state made the decision to cut back PE and add other academic requirements for graduation," recalls Boyte. "The PE requirement for high school students dropped to one year, though it was still offered as an elective."

Zehrung offers an additional explanation for the trend away from sports and fitness. "In 1969, back when I was a student at Portland State University, Time and Newsweek ran simultaneous cover stories on "Why Johnny Can't Read." The back-to-basics trend was already beginning, but I think those two stories gave it tremendous momentum. It marked the beginning of an emphasis on academics and the decline of 'extras' such as PE, music, and art."

In the next two decades the message became loud and clear: gym isn't important. Budgets were cut, facilities fell into disrepair, and teaching positions were lost, despite the 1987 recommendation from Congress that all schoolchildren have daily, high-quality, physical education from kindergarten through high school. By 1995 just 25 percent of the nation's students attended a daily phys ed class, down from 42 percent in 1991.

No one can say for sure when the pendulum began to swing back in favor of PE. But the 1996 Surgeon General's Report on Physical Activity and Health, which portrays a nation of kids out of shape and overweight, clearly jolted the nation into taking a second look at physical education.

SWEATING BULLETS

After two laps around the track, Anstine's kindergartners work their way through a playground obstacle course and then, without pausing, run into the gym to practice jump rope. As they dash from one end of the gym to the other, some five-year-olds can only flail the rope above their heads. Others expertly skip over the rope every time. "Very few kindergartners can jump in the beginning of the year," says Anstine, "but by the end of the year, 50 to 60 percent know how to jump rope. The girls seem to be better at this than the boys," he adds.

Some PE specialists, like Jim Anstine, survived by being innovative teachers and making themselves indispensable to their school communities. Described as the "heart of the school" when he won a teaching award last year from the Portland Public Schools Foundation, Anstine organizes an annual, schoolwide Run for the Arts event that this year raised more than $20,000 for "extras" such as arts performances and artists' residencies. In addition to teaching six PE classes a day, Anstine has taken on noontime duties on the playground, where he keeps kids working on their PE skills. He runs intramural sports for children who arrive early in morning, and he directs a popular after-school track and field program for the Portland Parks and Recreation Department.

"PE has always been a priority at Glencoe," says Bob Tongue, PTA president and the father of a third-grader, "and Mr. A is such an important part of the program that we've always found a way to fund his position. He's one full-time staff member but we probably get one-and-a-half to two times the work from him. That's a real bonus."

Other teachers took a different approach.

Emily Foster is just a few months into her new job as PE coordinator at Portland Public Schools—a position that fell under the Measure 5 axe, and was reinstated last spring. As if to caution that while PE may have a toehold but has not yet made a solid comeback, Foster's position is classified as half-time TOSA: teacher on special assignment for the district. A physical education specialist at Sabin Elementary School in Portland for 18 years, Foster, a tall, striking woman in her early 50s, was encouraged to take her new job by those who watched her proactive approach to the cutbacks of Measure 5, and her tireless efforts to professionalize and strengthen PE curriculum in Portland's schools.

"Around the time of Ballot Measure 5, I remember (former Portland Superintendent) Dr. Bierwirth and the school board saying they were going to cut all PE and music. For a few days I just cried. I could not imagine what I would do. After a week of not sleeping and going through a real bad time, I decided to do two things: I would go back to school to get my classroom endorsement, and I would start advocating."

Foster called every PE teacher she knew in the district. She asked them to urge parents and kids to write letters to the school board, the legislature, and the media. More than 90 parents and children sent letters. "We packed four different board meetings," Foster remembers. "We had doctors come and speak about the importance of physical activity. I called Bill Bowerman, the famous coach at University of Oregon, and when he heard the situation he said 'I'll be right up.' In the end, the board was inundated."

Among the letters was one from Foster's mother, Toby McDonell. A retired professor of physical education at the University of Puget Sound, McDonnell reminded Bierwirth and the board that her daughter was Oregon's PE Teacher of the Year in 1993, and suggested that if they had ever attended one of her daughter's annual jelly-bean field days at Sabin Elementary—where 700 students win jelly beans as they participate in skill stations—they wouldn't dream of cutting PE out of the elementary curriculum.

The efforts of Foster, her colleagues, students, parents, and grandparents had an immediate pay-off. The Portland school board decided not to completely cut PE from the curriculum. But the inevitable staff and program reductions meant some teachers had to divide their time between two or more schools. Others took on classroom responsibilities. Still others, like Foster, went back to school for classroom certification as a hedge against future cuts.

"This whole thing has been rough on children," Foster says. "Every spring we would hear that we had to cut back. Music went to half-time, then we lost several instructional aides, an administrator, and a counselor." PE at Sabin was saved, thanks to vociferous input from children and parents, and strong support from the site-based council. But job insecurity became an annual headache as predictable as taxes. In the spring of 2000—10 years after Measure 5—the district was facing cuts yet again. Says Foster: "I was sweating bullets."

While PE is far from firm footing yet, the high-profile organizing has begun to have long-term impact. When, in 1996, the Pew Charitable Trusts funded a project to help urban school districts create content standards and benchmarks in several academic areas, physical education was included. Foster and her colleagues set to work to define exemplary physical education programs and common curriculum goals for elementary, middle, and high schools. Two years later, the team produced an impressive 90-page booklet that outlines physical education content standards for a wide range of skills and topics: motor skills, active lifestyle outside the classroom, physical fitness, diversity, and personal and social skills. For each content standard, the team developed common curriculum goals, benchmarks, and assessment examples.

"Everyone tends to think of PE as a soft subject," says Foster. "I'd love to see it become core, and as important as everything else."

PERSISTENCE PAYS OFF

There are other signs that change is on its way. In July 1999 the Oregon Legislature passed House Bill 3307, a bipartisan effort to add PE to the subjects required for certification under the Educational Reform Act. It was a victory for a persistent group of health and PE activists that included Zehrung, who teaches at Conestoga Middle School, and Dr. Minot Cleveland, a Portland internist and chairman of the Oregon Coalition for Promoting Physical Activity. Other groups that joined the effort included the Governor's Council on Physical Fitness and Sports and the Oregon Heart Association.

"I think House Bill 3307 is a demonstration that the majority of our legislators have opened their eyes to the fact that we've got a health care crisis resulting from our sedentary lifestyles," says Zehrung. "The good news is that the Legislature passed the bill. The bad news is that they underfunded K-12 education, so that school districts are still faced with the tough choices of what to cut back."

School funding remains a gargantuan issue in Oregon. Even so, there are more promising omens on PE's horizon. The Oregon Department of Education has given PE a big boost by reinstating a state-level position that was obliterated by Measure 5.

"Physical education now has a place within the state education system," says Margaret Bates, who was recently hired to fill the post, Educational Program Specialist for Physical Education. "Our first task will be to propose, and have approved, a set of standards and benchmarks in physical education. Meanwhile, districts need to recognize the importance of the Physical Education Bill (HB3307) and what it means to them."

"People need to know what quality physical educators do and what a quality program looks like," Bates continues, referring to the public perception of PE. "The old sayings of 'give me 10' and 'take a lap' are out. That is not physical education; it is punishment. Physical education is teaching students how to enjoy moving and what it does for their bodies."

At the national level, the pending Physical Education for Progress Act, or PEP, sponsored by Republican Senator Ted Stevens of Alaska, would give $400 million to state school districts to improve PE programs—$5 million to Oregon alone (a figure roughly equivalent to the salaries and benefits of the 100 PE teachers the state has lost in the last decade).

"These are all positive indicators that there will be a turnaround," says Cusimano from Oregon State University, "but I think it's a little too early to say we're there. We're not."

As if to emphasize Cusimano's point, the outcome of a cliff-hanger state election in May at first looked bleak. A local-option levy for schools appeared to have failed in Portland for lack of the required 50 percent voter turnout. But a final tally revealed that a bare majority of eligible voters had sent in ballots. The levy passed. The $78 million tax increase over five years will restore 170 teachers, reduce class size, and help replace outdated textbooks. Some of the cuts to the arts and other special programs will be restored. At least for the moment, the hemorrhage in funds, personnel, and programs that has devastated Portland has been stanched.

"There is a new PE on the horizon," says Foster. "I see more standards-based teaching, adequate budgets so every kid can have equipment, and professional development inservice days for PE teachers, like any other discipline. I see more respect for physical education."

At Glencoe, Anstine keeps a watchful eye on a class of third-graders tossing neon-green tennis balls into the field. "Throw higher, girls, higher!" he encourages.

"I only see these children twice a week," Anstine says, "but at Glencoe we use recess and playground time at lunch to make sure that every child gets 30 minutes daily of vigorous physical activity."

He pauses and looks pensive. "In an ideal world," he says, "every kid would have 40 minutes of PE every day."

Respond to this article