Save S.A.M.: What Hudson’s Last School Budget Crisis Taught Me About Public Schools
A true story of what gets cut, what gets saved, and who shows up in the in-between
Why should my tax dollars go towards a school district with such bad test scores?
It’s that time of year again. The school budget vote is tomorrow, and I’m once again hearing some version of this question from members of our community. As a parent with kids attending the Hudson City schools, and as a graduate of Hudson High myself, hearing this ruffles my feathers.
Every year our community votes on the budget for the public schools. It wasn’t always like this; this process began in the 1970s, when state law shifted more fiscal control to local taxpayers. This system was designed to give voters a direct say in how their education dollars are spent. Each spring, residents decide whether to approve the district’s proposed budget. This determines funding for everything from classroom teachers and arts programs to sports and busing.
While the intention behind giving communities control over school budgets may have been democratic, in practice, the system is deeply flawed. It ties the stability of public education to voter turnout, local politics, and economic mood — often pitting short-term tax concerns against long-term investments in children. And when a budget fails, it doesn’t hurt “the district” in the abstract — it directly impacts kids, teachers, and families.
So when I hear those complaints — about the cost, the outcomes, the system — I get angry. And not only because I disagree with this process. I remember what happens when a community votes down a school budget. I’ve lived through it.
Twenty years ago, I was a junior at Hudson High School when the school budget didn’t pass. And I got a firsthand look at what happens when the system collapses — and who ends up paying the price.
Tomorrow’s vote on the proposed Hudson City School District budget for 2025–2026 is for $58.5 million — a 3.55% increase from last year — and it includes a Capital Project referendum and an energy efficiency plan. While the district has committed to preserving all programs and avoiding staff cuts, the public discourse has been intense.
The same questions keep surfacing: Why does it cost so much to educate a student in Hudson? Why are test scores still low? Where is the money even going?
This week, with the echoes of that question growing louder, I decided to revisit what happened twenty years ago – not just in headlines (although I did read dozens of Register Star articles, both from the online archives and those my family had saved) - but through the people who lived it.
I sat down with three of the people who helped pull our district back from the edge: Pat Maloy, longtime educator, coach, parent, and then-president of the Booster Club (and my uncle), Lisa Dolan, longtime educator, parent, and organizer (and my mom), and Eileen Maloy, longtime preschool teacher, parent, and tireless force in the organizing effort (and my aunt).
Here’s what went down — and what I want you to know before you cast your vote.
In the spring of 2004, I was sixteen years old — a junior at Hudson High. I had grown up with the same kids I still sat beside in class and on the court. From John L. Edwards to M.C. Smith to the high school, we’d moved through the district together, grade by grade.
I played sports in all three seasons — volleyball in the fall, basketball in the winter, track in the spring. Sports weren’t just extracurricular for me; they shaped my identity, my friendships, and my future. And then, heading into my final year, I was beginning to think seriously about college. I was a good student. I had big dreams. But that year those dreams – and the dreams of all the kids in our district – were threatened.
On May 18, 2004, the school budget failed. The vote wasn’t especially close — 620 in favor, 794 against. When I asked Pat, Eileen, and Lisa what they remember most about the day that the budget failed, they each summed it up in one word. For Pat and Eileen, it was shock. For Lisa, it was despair. Our community hadn’t seen a school budget fail before, and the future of the school became uncertain.
The school board scrambled. They held emergency meetings. They considered a contingency budget — one that would require an additional $480,000 in cuts – to sports, art, music, the Alternative Learning Program, transportation, security, and extracurriculars. The school board members understood the gravity of the situation. Jack Mabb, then a school board member, is quoted as saying, “It’s too painful to cut. We need to get out — hold meetings in the community. Go door to door.”
What many people don’t understand then is that school boards can’t just slash administrative salaries or overhead. Much of the budget is locked in through contracts and mandates. In a typical year, only a small percentage of the total budget is actually discretionary. And so when cuts are needed, it’s the visible, beloved programs that get targeted first — the ones that make school feel like more than just a factory to prepare students for standardized tests.
Research shows that extracurriculars like sports, music, and art are not just “nice to have” — they’re foundational for child and adolescent development. Participation in these programs is linked to better academic outcomes, stronger executive function, increased belonging at school, and even lower dropout rates. In other words, when we cut the “extras,” we’re often cutting the very things that keep students engaged in school in the first place.
Inside the schools, we students felt the weight of every proposed cut. These certainly weren’t “extras” to us — they were the fabric of our lives. Very quickly, a rallying cry emerged: Save S.A.M. — short for Sports, Art, and Music. The programming most vulnerable and most vital.
I was devastated at the thought of not playing volleyball in the fall – a sport that I was hoping would afford me a scholarship opportunity. Many of the students around me – students whose families had means – made moves to re-enroll their kids at surrounding districts: Chatham, Ichabod, even some private schools. Suddenly it seemed Hudson – which already had over 70% of our students living in poverty – was about to become even more skewed towards a lack of wealth.
I knew better than to ask my parents to re-enroll me at a different local school. Not only because of the money, but because of the spirit of it. My mom and uncle were public educators, and they believed in public education for their own children.
“We talked about other schools,” Lisa said. “But we couldn’t justify moving our kids. Not when I’d spent my whole life fighting for public education — not when I knew every other kid in Hudson didn’t have the option to walk away.”
The school board ultimately decided to resubmit the same budget for a second vote in June, hoping that public pressure and deeper outreach might turn things around.
But it didn’t.
On June 22, 2004, the budget failed again — and the district was forced to make real cuts. Sports, art, music, and other programs were eliminated or left unfunded. What had once seemed unthinkable was suddenly real.
Then commenced what would be my greatest life lesson about what it looks like for a community to come together and work hard for something that they care about.
That summer, a group of parents, teachers, and residents — led by my uncle Pat — formed a new Booster Club, which hadn’t been active in Hudson in years.
The Booster Club was established July 5th, 2004 without a single dime in their bank account. Their goal: raise the funds to reinstate the sports, art, music, and other extracurricular programs that were slashed as a result of the school board cuts. The task was daunting – they had to raise over $250,000 to support critical programming in the schools.
Their efforts started with a kickoff fundraising party at the Polish Sportsmen's Club. They were onto something; over two hundred people came to that first event. They used that first meeting to get organized – and over the next seven months, they would work tirelessly to raise funding. Their first goal had a deadline – in order to reinstate fall sports, they had just one month to raise $105,000.
“Everyone got on the bus,” Lisa said. “And Pat was the one driving it.”
And so they got to work. Community organizations played their part – Cleveland Samuels and A.M.E. Zion Church sponsored chicken dinners, A.B. Shaw Fire Company had a chicken barbecue, the Christian Service League of St. Mary’s Church had a ziti dinner. The American Legion had a Bingo fundraiser, Holy Catholic Church in Stottville collected change after their mass.
And people did. The movement grew, and people showed up feeling like they could contribute. One of the least glamorous jobs – but a reliably fruitful one – was collecting bottles from the transfer station every week, to return for bottle deposits. Nickel by nickel, they were moving towards their goal.
“People found their niche,” Lisa said. “There was a place for everyone to play their part.”
As Pat, Lisa, and Eileen talked about it, I could hear the warmth in their voices. I realized how important this moment was to them too. I was there on the ground – as a teenager – collecting coins at drops, standing with signs on corners, and even taking interviews with local news stations. But I was following the lead of the adults I respected and loved in the community. And they were showing their care for me – for all of us – by giving so much of themselves to save our school. They made participating feel almost irresistible, like everyone belonged. “It felt like anyone could participate,” Eileen shared. “Any amount of time, any amount of money.”
And with so many people involved, the Booster Club needed space: with hundreds of volunteers in the fold, they needed spaces to gather. In addition to the Polish Sportsmen club, the Booster Club met at St. Mary’s Church, A.M.E Zion Church, Christ Episcopal Church, and CFW Post 1314.
Local businesses played their part. When I interviewed Lisa, Eileen, and Pat, I relished hearing the names of the local businesses that gave their effort to the cause; many of them aren’t around anymore. Headhunters Hair Salon had a cut-a-thon. Pit Stop Beverage and Melino’s Bar held raffles. Hudson Health and Fitness donated a portion of their membership to the booster club. Verizon made a donation based on phone sales. First Niagara Bank donated office furniture for their Trash and Treasure sales down at the waterfront. ShopRite collected receipts for bottle returns from customers to donate to the Booster Club. Stadium Equipment donated t-shirts. Coin jars were placed in businesses all over town, including in Bagel Tyme, Fairview Books, Diamond Street Diner, D&D Deli, and Fashion Bug.
Booster clubs from the entire county came together to help organize and even donated money from their own clubs: Chatham, Ichabod Crane, Ravena, Maple Hill, and Cairo-Durham all provided support, either moral or financial.
The City of Hudson played an absolutely crucial role – they provided $100,000 from the city’s general fund. Rick Scalera, the mayor at the time, brought this idea to the Common Council. Even though the school budget had failed in the district, it had passed in Hudson. Voters in the city had shown their support. And the Council agreed – they overwhelmingly voted to provide funds in exchange for services and community access to the school grounds.
Many individuals and foundations gave generously — both publicly and quietly — to help close the gap. Hudson River Bank and Trust Foundation donated $50,000, the Children’s Foundation donated $30,000, BBL Construction donated $12,500. Mid-Hudson Cablevision donated $5,000 and provided free advertising, Dunkin Donuts donated $2,500, and the Middle School PTO donated $1,000. There were dozens of other financial contributions from individuals, non-profits, businesses, and Hudson High Alumni.
By August 5th – before funds from the City had even come through – the Booster Club had met their first goal of raising funds to reinstate fall sports – they had pulled together $113,000 in a single month. And from there, they just kept going.
“It was nonstop,” Pat said. Every time we got close to a goal, we’d start planning for the next season.”
One of my wildest memories from that time was when we held a coin drop at the Stewart’s intersection with J.W. Hoystradt Hose Fire Company. We kids weren’t allowed to stand in the street, much to our chagrin. We instead posted up on the corners, holding signs and cheering on the drivers who contributed.
“People brought in their entire coin jars from home,” Lisa shared. “People were throwing twenties in our jars all day.”
And that night, we brought everything we had collected home to my living room. We spent the entire night sorting, rolling, and counting coins. We were utterly shocked to realize that we had collected over $10,000 in that drive. We hauled it all to the bank the next morning.
By February 2005, the Booster Club had raised over $231,000 — enough to reinstate the sports, music, and art programs that had been cut or left in limbo. They announced to the community that they had met their goal. But they knew that they couldn’t rest just yet. The annual school budget vote was just three months away.
Come May 2005, the budget passed handily in all five cities and towns comprising the district. And it has every year since.
“I’m proud we got it done,” Pat said. “But I wouldn’t do it again. It was exhausting. And we only got there because people gave everything they had.”
When I asked them what they were most proud of from that time, I was moved by their answers.
“I loved that our kids looked up to us,” Lisa shared. “That they were so into it.”
“I was proud that we were right in the middle of it,” Eileen said. “And that our kids were there too.”
“We got it done,” Pat said. “And the community got behind us."
I can say with confidence that I looked up to them – and that I learned from them. About the power of community. About how to bring people together. About how to make people feel like everyone belongs, everyone can contribute. I can’t overstate how rare and unique this is. It’s something that’s lacking from a lot of movement spaces that I see right now. Every contribution – no matter the size – was welcomed, appreciated, and dignified.
It’s easy, twenty years later, to forget how close we came to losing everything. To forget that budgets aren’t just numbers — they’re values in action. That behind every line item is a kid, a program, a meal, a teacher, a place to go after school.
I know what it feels like to be a student in a district where the future is uncertain. I know what it feels like to walk the halls and hear that your season might be canceled, that your teacher might not come back, that something essential is suddenly optional. I know what it feels like to be reduced to numbers on a page. And I also know what it feels like when a community steps up — when people dig into their pockets, their evenings, their weekends to say: Not on our watch.
What my mom, aunt, and uncle also told me is that this kind of mobilization is rare. They don’t know if it could happen again. The community has changed. The economy has changed. People are exhausted. And more than anything, people are struggling.
“These are different times,” Lisa said. “People are just trying to keep food on the table.”
And yet, the stakes remain the same. If the budget fails, the kids will pay the price. Not the administrators. Not the loudest critics on Facebook. Not the people who never set foot inside the schools. The kids. The ones who need stability, structure, and support more than ever.
“People look at test scores and ask why it costs so much,” Pat said. “But they’re not looking at what these kids are carrying. Some of them don’t even know where their next meal is coming from. Getting through the day — that’s the work too.”
This vote is about more than test scores. It’s about whether we’re willing to take care of our young people in real, material ways — not just with opinions, but with action. With ballots. With belief.
If you're frustrated with the state of our schools, I hear you. Many of us are. But voting down the budget won’t fix what’s broken — it will just deepen the damage. There are other ways to engage: show up to board meetings, ask hard questions, volunteer, write letters, run for office. Accountability doesn't require austerity.
I hope we don’t have to relearn the hard way what happens when we choose cuts over care. I hope we’ve learned from what happened two decades ago. I hope we can pull that experience back into our community memory.
And I hope we vote like it tomorrow. For our kids. For each other.
How to Vote in the 2025 Hudson City School District Budget & Board Election
Election Day for is Tuesday, May 20, 2025. Polls are open from 11:00 AM to 8:00 PM.
Where do I vote?
District 1: City of Hudson – Hudson Central Fire Station, 77 N. 7th St., Hudson
District 2: Greenport, Stottville, Stockport, Ghent – Greenport Community Center, 500 Town Hall Drive, Hudson
District 3: Claverack, Livingston, Taghkanic – A.B. Shaw Fire House, 67 Route 23, Claverack
What’s on the ballot?
$58.5M school budget for 2025–2026
Three Board of Education seats (vote for up to 3 candidates)
Voting yes preserves every single student program and service. It protects what matters most.
Who’s running for school board?
You’ll vote for up to three candidates. We have six candidates running — you can learn more about them on the website or in the recording of a Meet the Candidates session.
Every vote matters. Don’t sit this one out!