On snowy days, Dennis Haverlandt bundles up against the cold, grabs a snow shovel and tackles the sidewalks in front of Deer Park School before students arrive.

Later in the morning, he might be called to clean up a mess in the hall or unclog a stopped-up sink. But Haverlandt isn’t the janitor.

He’s the principal.

And his unglamorous role is fairly typical of rural school administrators throughout the state.

“It’s part of the whole small rural school, when you have small budgets and you have part-time custodians,” he said.

When people argue in favor of school district consolidation, trimming the number of administrators is usually one of the first cost-saving benefits they cite.

In Flathead County’s 23 school districts, there are more than 55 administrators, ranging from superintendents of large districts to principals who take on the roles of administrator, teacher and more at their small, rural schools.

Rural administrators’ jobs are much broader than the roles spelled out in their contracts, and their salaries generally don’t reflect the number of hours they put in or the random odd jobs they perform daily. Paychecks vary according to district size and can be lower than teacher salaries in larger districts. At the low end, a rural principal’s salary is about $43,000, compared to the lowest full-time administrative salary of $65,300 in Kalispell Public Schools.

“You’d better be a jack-of-all-trades and have good humor about it,” said Cortni King, principal of West Glacier School. “There’s not a whole lot of glory in the job.”

People new to the position quickly discover its lack of grandeur, she added with a laugh.

“You find that out when you’re plunging a toilet or shoveling the sidewalk or fixing a busted pipe in the attic,” she said.

But general handyman skills aren’t all that’s required of rural administrators. They’re also expected to be instructional leaders, which includes the duties of a building principal. They are responsible for staff development, facilitating learning and disciplining students.

Many rural administrators also are expected to fulfill the role of superintendent, even if that isn’t necessarily in their contracts. While that has philosophical implications about helping set a district’s direction, it also means paperwork.

A lot of it.

“The biggest frustration is the increase in reporting to OPI,” Haverlandt said. “I’ve been here four years, and it’s more than doubled.”

Haverlandt and other administrators now are working on five-year plans that soon must be submitted to the state Office of Public Instruction. It’s a lengthy, involved process that takes Haverlandt away from the principal duties that are actually included in his job description.

“No kidding, I’ve probably got 20 to 30 hours in it right now,” he said of the report.

The increased reporting is largely because of No Child Left Behind, Haverlandt explained. The federal law requires additional reporting from state agencies, which requires additional reporting from school districts.

Larger districts have curriculum directors or others who can work on the reports, Haverlandt said. Rural schools don’t have the luxury of extra staff to dedicate hours to reports, which can mean late nights and weekends for administrators.

The additional requirements are challenging and confusing for rural principals, Kila School Principal Renee Boisseau said.

“My role as sole administrator of a small school ... has become very confusing and very muddied because of the amount of outside mandates that we’re expected to do,” she said.

“I have no problem fulfilling the accreditation standard, but often the vehicle they use for reporting is cumbersome and it doesn’t relate to the school. It doesn’t let me tell them what’s happening at Kila School.”

Some rural principals such as Haverlandt and King also are teachers. Haverlandt teaches 21st century skills classes, covering computer applications and more, to kindergarteners through eighth-graders. King, whose contract stipulates she is half teacher, half principal, teaches art and social studies to West Glacier’s kindergartners, first- and second-graders plus fourth-grade math.

It could make her day confusing, but King said she enjoys her job.

“I certainly don’t think that rural education is for everyone,” she said. “I’m kind of a let’s-get-it-done kind of girl.”

The often-unexpected demands of the job can be overwhelming for those who aren’t anticipating them. Marion School Principal Jay Hurder has years of school administration experience, but his first year at Marion has been something of a shock.

“Was I prepared for the scope of the job? The answer is no,” he said.

“The scope of the job tasks were ... talked about in the interview, but it was a whole lot more broad than I was anticipating. I wasn’t misled or anything. I’m just used to having a much narrower job description.”

Sometimes, Hurder said, between state reports, grant work, performance reports and custodial crises, there often is little time left to interact with students.

“You’re lucky if you get to deal with kids during the day, which is why we’re really here,” he said.

Still, Hurder said he enjoys the job and its surprises.

“I still ... like the idea of being a building administrator where I help affect, direct and facilitate what happens on a larger scale, not just in my own little classroom,” he said.

The key to success in the rural principal position, Boisseau said, is the ability to accept the unexpected.

“Flexibility is the word of the day every day. It could be every day that something changes for you,” she said.

“No matter what’s on the docket for that day, if there’s no electricity, that changes about everything you’re going to do until you get the electricity back.”

Reporter Kristi Albertson may be reached at 758-4438 or by e-mail at kalbertson@dailyinterlake.com