Parents, students lobby lawmakers

      CARSON CITY -- As the glow of Las Vegas faded late Thursday, Joyce Haldemann stood up in the aisle of the charter bus.
      "How many of you have never been to Carson City before?" asked the Clark County School District's community relations director.
      All but a few hands shot up.
      "Well, we've got a lot of first-timers here," Haldemann noted over the rumble of the bus darting north on U.S. Highway 95. "You're in for an experience."
      Parents and students, about 50 in all, hopped on two "Education Express" buses at 11 p.m. Thursday to ride the 435 miles to Nevada's capital city. They would arrive at 7 a.m. Friday, then spend seven hours roaming the Legislative Building to coax representatives on education-related matters before lumbering back on the buses at 2 p.m. for the return trip to Las Vegas.
      It was a mission taken up by citizens itching to make a theatrical statement to their state government about their commitment to children.
      "We may be a crazy group, but it's kind of nice to be with a group of people who care about children and education," said LuAnn Day, a parent activist with children at Chaparral High School, Woodbury Middle School and Ferron Elementary School. "We are a vocal group, and we have a very serious, important job to do here."
      Perhaps, but the punchy mood on "Joyous" Joyce's bus made it seem otherwise at first. Haldemann earned her nickname from the 25 riders who opted to take her no-sleep wheels instead of joining the second, more sedate bunch on another bus chaperoned by "Boring" Bob McCord. McCord, the district's government relations chief, enthralled his pack with trivia about Silver State history around the same time Haldemann banned all renditions of "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" lest her charges got out of hand.
      When the laughter -- or snores -- died down, though, both buses became mobile classrooms for amateur lobbyists encouraged by school district leaders hopeful that real-people voices would prove persuasive to vote-needy officials. It wasn't enough for Mrs. Smith to go to her capital, Haldemann and McCord insisted. She has to know how to push her points quickly and effectively.
      Thus these grass-roots activists, mostly leaders of parent-teacher organizations around Clark County, watched a 26-minute television show in which Superintendent Brian Cram and schools lobbyist Larry Spitler outlined the district's goals for the 1997 Legislature. Then they listened to a lecture on how not to bore or agitate lawmakers and were instructed that each rider was assigned to hand-deliver a red apple and flier to certain legislators.
      "I would like to just remind everybody that the reason we are here is to promote the (school district) platform," said Haldemann, who told the crowd the lobbying effort was paid for through private donations. "You are welcome to talk to any legislator about anything you want to, but if you're talking to them about something else, I would appreciate it if you would distinguish that from the platform. Any problems with that?"
      By the time the groups arrived in Carson City, they were well-versed in the needs for expanded class-size reduction, millions for computer technology and a revamped method of paying for new school construction to manage the nation's fastest-growing student population.
      First, though, most riders crammed Legislative bathrooms to freshen up and shuck their rumpled casual garb for the dry-cleaned outfits they'd carefully stowed on the overhead racks many hours earlier.
      "We're ready," said Judi Lynn, a parent activist whose children attend Von Tobel Middle School and Advanced Technologies Academy, a magnet high school. "It's time to have at 'em."
      Not yet. The riders, despite being weary of waiting and listening, stood patiently in a crescent formation as Gov. Bob Miller quipped to them that the overnight bus trip wasn't what the state meant by its tourism message, "See both sides of Nevada."
      Miller, who in his final term is gunning for a pro-education legacy with a $35 million proposal for school technology and $18 million demand for third-grade class-size reduction, sensed he was sounding a powerful rallying cry to potentially effective foot soldiers.
      "When you go up to a legislator, be specific and don't settle for generic answers," said the governor, offering even more direction on how to lobby. "He might say he supports technology in the classroom, but ask him if he supports my $35 million plan. We need you to deliver our message."
      A few more speeches followed, along with a doughnuts-and-juice buffet with first lady Sandy Miller. Then, 10 hours after leaving Las Vegas, the troops were deployed throughout the Legislative Building to visit offices or speak to representatives passing in the hallways.
      The interaction with lawmakers occupied a wide range of schools-related topics.
      --Smith Middle School eighth-grader Jessica Riggs told Assemblywoman Deanna Braunlin, R-Las Vegas, why class-size reduction ought to be instituted for all grades. The governor's proposal offers it for first, second and third, but Riggs described her experience: "Sometimes I need help on something, and the teacher cannot come and help you because they have to help so many other students."
      --Parent-activist Day took on Sen. Randolph Townsend, R-Reno, on technology funding. When Townsend said he wasn't primed on the matter because he's not on the education committee, Day shot back, "But everybody has to vote on it eventually."
      --Beckley Elementary School mother Buffy Kilarski also worked on technology support, pulling aside Senate Majority Leader Bill Raggio, R-Reno, to ask a question: "Are you going to support Governor Miller's technology bill and do what's right for our kids?"
      In some cases, the legislators turned the tables to lobby parents.
      Assemblyman Mark Manendo, D-Las Vegas, for instance, listened patiently to Vegas Verde Elementary School moms Allendra Zionch and Suzi Rust, agreed with them, then proceeded to push his pet cause, a pending bill to legalize advertising on school buses.
      Zionch and Rust, who raced about nonstop together for hours, said they became adept at recognizing when lawmakers were acting slick.
      "You see them put on their politicians' faces as we walked in their door," Zionch said. "You can tell the ones that agree with you because they're the ones that come right out and say so. The ones who oppose your view start by saying, 'Well ... ' "
      Hallway politicking wasn't all for Education Express riders.
      Haldemann and McCord also arranged for each rider to sit with an Assembly member or senator during the morning floor sessions for an up-close snapshot of legislative life.
      That experience offered valuable lessons for a three-generation group of riders decked out in matching aqua-blue T-shirts advertising a Lake Mead-area parents council.
      Riggs was accompanied by mom Nancy Riggs and her 61-year-old grandmother, Patricia Sparkman. Sparkman has grandchildren in four Clark County schools but never did anything political before.
      "It really made it so interesting," said Sparkman of sitting with Sen. Joe Neal, D-North Las Vegas. "I learned how much is postponed. I mean, things they acted on had been postponed from another day and things they were supposed to vote on today were put off to some other time."
      Elsewhere, school district lobbyist Carolyne Edwards talked about the upbeat, carnival-like atmosphere created by the crowd of parents haphazardly pulling aside passing lawmakers.
      "Being a legislator is really a thankless task, so whenever we can have parents come up and say thank you for what they're doing for us in Southern Nevada, it means a great deal to them," Edwards said.
      Sandy Miller went one step further, declaring the Education Express trip "one of the most important things that happens this session."
      Spitler, Edwards' counterpart, was more subdued about the event.
      "In a small way, it's awfully nice when the parents are here," Spitler said. "We hope they'll help focus legislators on education issues."
      The bus, while the most significant gimmick of the Education Express effort, also worked against some parents. On the road, Patricia Stigar and her son, Bridger Middle School student Thomas Rosenbaum, seemed full of the energy and guts necessary to accost lawmakers and lecture them for support.
      Yet four hours into the day, mother and son could both be found with their heads planted in their folded arms at a table near the front of the Legislative Building. They'd spoken to just one legislator and now found their enthusiasm waning fast as mileage and time took its toll.
      "Everybody looks like zombies now," Stigar said. "The bus wasn't very comfortable to sleep in, you know. "
      And if they somehow managed to remain perky and pleasant for most of the day, by the time the riders made it back to their buses most were running on a low tank of adrenaline or caffeine.
      Many first-timers, despite their exhaustion, insisted their civic exercise had been well worth the effort.
      "It was something new, and it made me feel like I was doing my teeny part," Sparkman said. "Legislators are just people like we are, and they should be the ones who are awestruck by us. They needed to know how I feel."