Paul Lemle’s mandate to members of the 75,000-member Maryland State Education Association is short and straightforward: It’s time to invest in ourselves.
“I want to talk to [teachers] about power, and why it’s important that our own voices matter in education policies and how schools get funded,” said Lemle who, on Aug. 1, became president of the MSEA. “I want to build that power by recruiting our members into action. Our teachers should have a voice in class size, the school calendar and curriculum — but it’ll take some political muscle to make that happen.”
In short, he said, teachers stumping for change is in, while their suffering in silence is out.
“There’s a shortage of people coming into this profession, and our union members need to [lobby] and tell policymakers why, so that we have a part in addressing that shortage,” Lemle said.
The Blueprint for Maryland’s Future, passed in 2021 by the General Assembly, aims to boost funding for public education by an additional $3.8 billion over a decade. For instance, in the 2025-26 school year, starting salaries for teachers will climb to $60,000. Their pay woes are painfully clear, Lemle said:
“About half of [teachers] leave the job in the first five years. Half of all educators work a second job. On average, teachers make about 85 cents on the dollar, compared to others with a master’s degree.”
Still, the strain on the state’s coffers to fund Blueprint has sparked concern for Maryland’s future. Last month, Gov. Wes Moore made clear that adjustments to the education reform policy may be needed to ward off fiscal woes.
“The Blueprint is a smart investment,” Lemle said. “Of course, I have concerns that the money [to fund it] may not be there. So I’ll make sure that every legislator, county executive and board of education member has teachers telling them, ‘Hey, this is really important for our kids.’ We’ve got to keep the pressure on.”
Lemle, 52, a social studies teacher for 24 years in Howard County, replaced Cheryl Bost, who retired this year as union head. No stranger to labor chores, he spent six years, from 2011 to 2017, as president of the Howard County Education Association during a time rife with clashes with the board of education. Nonplussed, Lemle forged ahead.
“We built an organization [in Howard] powerful enough to knock every incumbent off the board in 2016, folks who had no real interest in the students,” he said.
In an interview with The Sun, Lemle, who is married and the father of three, said the choice of Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz, a former teacher, as the Democratic candidate for vice president could amplify that power.
“He’s an exemplar, a poster boy for teaching and a walking, talking example of why education matters,” Lemle said. “Walz can be a champion of federal funding for special education students. If you’re vice-president of the U.S., you’re going to get the bully pulpit.”
Teaching needs all the positives it can get, the new union head said.
“Last spring, I asked my class [at Reservoir High], ‘How many of you are thinking of education as a profession?’ Of 30 students, not one hand went up. Then I asked, ‘What if you knew your economic needs would be met?’ Then, 10 hands went up.”
On the first day of school in 2023-24, the Maryland State Department of Education reported nearly 2,000 teacher vacancies. The MSDE did not respond to a request for this year’s numbers.
“Who’s accountable for the teaching shortage? We [teachers] are our own best recruiters,” Lemle said. “The job is a grind, but schools are happy and energetic places to work. Our role is to tell people about the job and communicate it.”
To join those ranks, Lemle took the road less traveled. A native of New Orleans, he attended LSU, straying on occasion to play guitar in a punkabilly rock band called Buckshot and the Barnstormers, which performed throughout the Southeast.
“We did as many as 200 gigs a year, from weddings to bars,” he said. “I had talent, but it was a hand-to-mouth lifestyle and pretty marginal at times. It didn’t seem like a viable career.”
In 1999, while lifting an amplifier, he felt pain in his back. It worsened until Lemle, 29, was diagnosed with Hodgkin lymphoma. Eight months of chemotherapy followed.
“By the time I got to chemo, I couldn’t walk — swollen lymph nodes had broken my lumbar vertebrae,” he said. Treatment left him cancer-free. Afterward, Lemle changed course. A teacher, he would be.
“I did my student teaching at a juvenile detention center in Seattle and took my guitar to show those incarcerated kids how to play a couple of chords, to help build their trust,” he said. “I fed off of their energy, that they still wanted to learn.”
The experience, he said, “empowered me as it empowered them. That’s what makes teaching great; both [sides] benefit from it.”
A quarter-century later, Lemle leads a forward-looking union in a progressive state, both of which, he believes, are on the same page.
“I see no red flags [at present],” said Lemle, of Odenton. “We have a governor who clearly cares about public education and a legislature that seems very invested in the success of our kids. Of course, the ground can shift under anyone, but Maryland seems a great place to do union work; it’s a state that has all the tools.”
