Once upon a time there was a wise king who decided children should go to school.

The king decreed two schoolhouses be built, one for nobles and the other where peasants dwelled.

All children learned how to read and use an abacus, and the kingdom prospered.

Every year on his birthday, the king visited the schools and gave them gold to cover expenses. On one inspection, the king noticed some of the peasant kids coming to school hungry or wearing rags. He gave that school extra gold, telling the headmaster to feed and clothe those pupils. Soon, even those students were making adequate yearly progress.

Then one year famine befell the kingdom. The king dipped deep into his treasury to ease his subjects' suffering.

When his birthday came, he had little left to give the schools. What the king had, he gave to the peasants' school.

That night as the king slept, masked noblemen crept into his chamber, drew swords and killed the monarch.

Now we turn to a different era and a different land — but perhaps not all that different. It's called Pennsylvania, where a governor rose to power during a time of scarcity.

Like the good king in my fable, the governor did not have enough in his treasury to give his 500 school districts all the resources they once enjoyed.

But unlike the good king, the governor made choices that favored the schools of children of the modern-day equivalent of nobles.

And that brings us to the crux of this story as it veers from make-believe to hard to believe.

Across Pennsylvania, schools needing extra help — those with the humblest tax bases and the greatest numbers of children in poverty — are making the greatest sacrifices.

Republican Gov. Tom Corbett and the Republican-controlled Legislature warned major cutbacks were coming. Voters cannot be surprised because they knew they were opting for budget cuts over more state taxes when they put Republicans into office. But many Pennsylvanians assumed Corbett would practice shared sacrifice. The details of his budget show anything but.

Poverty-stressed School District of Lancaster — 78 percent of its kids come from low-income families — lost $5.1 million, equal to $11,500 per classroom.

The district has furloughed 77 employees. Most of its librarians are now gone as well as elementary Spanish teachers, tutors and summer school staff. Twenty-five supervisors are history, and more than 30 vacancies won't be filled.

"We lost some great talent," Superintendent Pedro Rivera told the House Democratic Policy Committee meeting Tuesday at McCaskey High School.

But what kind of pinch is Tredyffrin/Easttown in eastern Chester County — a district with only 4 percent poverty — feeling? It lost less than $1,000 per classroom. As a result, the district is eliminating German and Latin in the middle school, two counselors and a couple of secretaries.

Ouch?

Before Corbett became governor, an objective nonpolitical formula drove the most state funding to districts with the greatest stresses. "A kid's opportunity to get a decent education ought not to be determined by where you live or by the political power of your legislator," education advocate Ron Cowell told lawmakers Tuesday.

But these days in Harrisburg, the nobles are in complete charge, and their ruthlessness is undisguised.

jhawkes@lnpnews.com