A few weeks ago, I threw out some suggestions for newsmakers of the coming decade and the biggest development I saw in my crystal ball for the next 10 years in Prince George was the effects of an aging population.
The greying hair and wrinkling skin of Prince George residents has just claimed its first victim -- School District 57. Declining enrolment has pushed senior administrators and trustees into considering closing 11 schools and reconfiguring three more.
Complaints about the ridiculous costs for the upcoming two-week party in Vancouver, better known as the Winter Olympics, and some dodgy financial machinations by the Campbell government aside, school closures and fewer teachers in the Prince George area were inevitable.
There are nearly 2,000 fewer students in the local system than there were five years ago and the forecast is for another drop of 2,000 students over the next five years. In other words, this won't be the last time school trustees will be closing schools and laying off teachers and staff in the coming years.
The painful exercise of hundreds of parents filling Vanier Hall to make emotional pleas to save their neighbourhood school will be repeated.
Sadly, the process pits neighbourhood against neighbourhood and parent against parent. Trustees looking for some creative solutions to lessen the bloodshed are instead presented with the alternative of closing somebody else's school, in somebody else's neighbourhood.
While the likely closure of numerous schools in Prince George is front-page news, just like it was in 2003, the community angst is nowhere as strong this time as it was seven years ago.
That's partly from the recognition that the enrolment numbers just don't justify keeping every school in the district open. But there's more to it than that.
As the bulk of the local population moves past its child-raising years, there are fewer people in Prince George that actually care whether schools close. If School District 57 had the power to raise the taxes of local residents to pay to keep more schools open, they would run into noisy opposition from the empty-nesters. This happens all the time in the U.S., where local taxpayers can vote in referendums to increase or decrease education spending in their communities.
So far, the only aging residents taking part in the school closure debate have waxed nostalgic about seeing their children and their children's children attend a certain school. There could come a time, soon, when these same residents are demanding more schools be shut down and education staff slashed to help pay for expanded hospitals and long-term care facilities.
Another reason there doesn't seem to be as much worry about school closures this time around is the changing relationship between people and politicians.
The results of a recent study reported in Wednesday's Citizen demonstrate that voters and taxpayers feel increasingly powerless about the fate of their votes and their taxes. In other words, cynicism in the political process has replaced the democratic belief that residents, by voting and becoming socially active, can bring about change.
Lurking below the passion of even the most committed and supportive of school-age parents is a tired frustration. Not only are many parents prepared to accept their neighbourhood school will be closed, they're also sure there is nothing they can say or do to save the school.
That quiet resignation towards the decisions of the powerful, regardless of whether those decisions are right or not, poses a real threat to democracy.
There are certainly more than 20 people in Prince George upset about Prime Minister Stephen Harper shutting down Parliament to avoid awkward questions about Canada's handling of Afghan detainees (if not, there should be more) but only 20 showed up for a weekend protest. Why protest when nobody's listening, anyway?
Why show displeasure about the extravagant Olympic spending by holding up a sign along the torch relay route when all that might get you is grief from the police?
Whether it's laziness, apathy, fear or the weary acceptance that comes with age, refusing to fight the power comes with its own price.
History is littered with the stories of great men and women able to change society and politics against ridiculous odds.
Local residents looking for inspiration can take a seat with Bridget Moran's statue on Third Avenue and seek her counsel.
In the meantime, expect the city's aging population to continue to bring about significant change, for better and worse, in the years ahead.
Neil Godbout is the
Citizen's news editor.
ngodbout@pgcitizen.ca
