Picture, for a second, a desolate Walpole High School hallway, a cold wind wailing and tumbleweeds rolling lazily across. At the end of the hall, a door stands ajar, and through it is visible freshmen English class, with children packed like bovine in a cattle car; and, in the class, delinquents, woefully at a loss for desks to deface, resort to writing lewd slogans on their palms. Back in the hallway, a man notices the things the school has lost: the hall is now devoid of any fliers hawking the next concert or poetry reading, and worst of all, the trophy cases in the lobby hold nothing but the memories of the trophies pawned to pay for operating costs. The man is Stephen Imbusch, and this is his nightmare — it is also the future he is trying to prevent.

“Right now,” says Mr. Imbusch, in a Rebellion exclusive, “we’re looking at a deficit of one million dollars.” That’s right, one million dollars — enough to buy a low-end Newton McMansion or about four mid-range Ferraris. Imbusch sits, collected but appropriately nervous, at the edge of his seat, as though he expects the budget apocalypse to hit at any moment– and it very well might. Walpole High School stands on the edge of a precipice of total academic destruction. “Either we fill the budget gap with more money,” says Imbusch, “or we fill it with school cuts.”

Herein lies Imbusch’s nightmare: it may well not be the upsetting latter option, and tumbleweeds and cattle cars will ensue. “There will likely be staff cuts, leading to bigger classes and courses that we won’t be able to offer.” That means 40 people in an AP course, if said AP course isn’t dropped like a Chad Ochocinco reception. Walpole is already down two AP classes from last year; it wouldn’t be too overreaching to suggest that two will be lost a year until there are none, until overachievers will be confined to Honors classes. Then, the Honors classes will be lost, then CP1, then CP2, until there will be one big eighteenth-century-frontier-schoolhouse-style classroom for all of the students to attempt to learn in.

As for the unoccupied mahogany cases, Imbusch will not resort to that, on principle. “I don’t want to resort to that because sports and clubs are what make kids want to come to school. It’s disgraceful that we’ve even got so few clubs this year.” And it is true: about a half dozen clubs have been cut in the past two years — half a dozen more than should have been cut. Perhaps club cuts will go the same way as classes, with half a dozen being expunged annually until none remain. No Film Festival to give farcical analyses of student life. No Student Council to make the tough decisions. And no Walpole Rebellion to dig up the dirt on the corruption of the daily drawl. Imbusch may not want to cut anything but he may have no choice. As he says, “It’s getting harder and harder to run a school without money.”

There is a second option, however, because like any mildly respectable government institution, Walpole High School can make state money. “We can move money from other town programs, or we can get money from Walpole prison runoff.” The fact that there is discussion about Walpole becoming a subsidy of the prison is just ridiculous; there is no pride in accepting jail money! There is some sadness in the fact that the town’s prison is bountiful while our school is the state-program equivalent of a welfare recipient. Maybe Walpole students would be better off attending school at Cedar Junction.

The upcoming override can remedy all herein mentioned problems, from prison pilfering to ninety person classrooms. “If the town tax override passes and we get more tax money,” Imbusch says at the interview’s finale, “that’ll account for most of the money.” Dear readers here this good man’s plea: there may lie a horrid future for Walpole High School should there be no tax money. There is a school here, like a table with 3 legs cut off by a bandsaw, that is on its last leg. There, however, is another possible shiny, halcyon future — with golden, gleaming trophies, and every club from Agora to Zeitgeist. Children will be spared the indignities of drawing on themselves and will be free to swim in the glorious seas of academia. All of this and more will be possible with only the least of tax dollars!

In all honesty though (without any of the weird similes or adjectives or Renaissance-style wording), this school needs money. A million dollars is a hell of a lot of money for one man to try to get a hold of, but for a whole town of people, it’s nothing. Walpole citizens are far from the poorest of the poor, and for a town with no business taxes except for those of sandwich shops and a few factories on South Street, taxing the citizens should be necessary — or, actually, it is necessary. The kids in school need it, for the sake of not just clubs and sports and classes but also just so that they can learn comfortably and can do what they want with their school lives.

For those selfish citizens, particularly the elderly, who justify their votes against taxes based on the fact that they do not know any kids, they should remember also that, by paying taxes, they are driving up the value of their own houses by aiding government programs like schools. Not just the school kids, but every homeowner, will benefit from students who are good learners.

So forget all the tumbleweeds and Ferraris and principals making tough choices. Just vote for more taxes, and be glad you did it: your whole town will benefit. The kids will unknowingly have you to thank for happy childhoods; Walpole will very knowingly have you to blame for successful public programs; and you will have yourself to blame for living in a nice town. Trophy auctions are far away, but Walpole needs money right now: give it.