Elections Matter

In my previous post, I said that I don’t think it’s too early to contemplate some lessons we’re learning from the events of the past nine months. I said that one of those lessons is that leadership matters, and that we might not have been reminded so forcefully of the importance of leadership if we hadn’t been reminded of how elections matter.

II. Elections matter

It is interesting how educators’ experience with the Obama administration parallels our experience with the Strickland administration in Ohio. If they are as similar as I think, then it is critical that our colleagues on the national level learn from our experience here.

In both cases, we were thrilled with the election of an ally. Expectations were high for both Ted Strickland in 2008 and Barack Obama in 2010. Strickland would fix Ohio’s unconstitutional school funding system. Obama would reverse the excesses of the absurdly misnamed “No Child Left Behind.”

And in both cases, we were disappointed. While Strickland produced an elegant formula for school funding, the funding itself wasn’t institutionalized–and probably couldn’t be without an increase in state revenue that he wasn’t able to get. Worse, even this improvement came with annoying compromises, like an increase in the time needed for teachers to be considered for continuing contracts.

On the federal level, the Obama administration offered improvements in school funding through Race to the Top; but those improvements were flawed in at least two ways. First, they were competitive and unavailable to all, and thus didn’t offer a genuine increase in school funding. Second, they were conditioned on acceptance of teacher evaluation premises that many of teachers and leaders were reluctant to endorse and which required levels of labor-management cooperation that don’t exist in most school districts.

In both cases, educators came to believe that elections didn’t matter. Our world didn’t end under Bush and Taft, and we didn’t reach paradise under Strickland and Obama; so why not send a message? And many Ohio educators, faced with disappointment in the Strickland administration, decided to do just that. They sat on their hands or even supported Kasich in 2010, and by doing so helped give us what we have seen this year.

Let’s be clear here–Kasich didn’t win just because Strickland lost some support from educators. There were plenty of other factors at work, not all of them under Strickland’s control. But some of our people became convinced that elections don’t matter.

Kasich’s supporters were under no such delusions. Strickland faced in 2010, and Obama will almost certainly face in 2012, a political landscape characterized by historically deep divisions between political ideologies. For generations, American candidates have run from their base and governed from the center. Kasich is the first Ohio governor in my 45 years in Ohio who’s not interested in governing from the center: he, along with the ideologues who handed him Senate Bill 5, are interested in trying out their theory of government, and they have the votes to do it. Many claim to be prepared to be one-term lawmakers, as long as they can change the status quo in the way they think it should be changed.

The Republican Presidential candidate in 2012 is likely to be just as ideological–or at least that’s what seems to be happening so far in the campaign, which features a contest among ideological extremists and panderers.

So when I say that “elections matter,” what I’m saying is that in Ohio, we have learned the difference between a weak friend and a strong enemy. And we have learned that the strong enemy is infinitely more dangerous. As hard as it may be, we need to support our friends just as strongly after we’ve learned their flaws as we did when they were our newest best buddy.

We shouldn’t leave this topic without paying some attention to the compromises made by both Strickland and Obama and considering why they felt those compromises were warranted. I’ll take that up in my next post, “Ideas Matter.”

Leadership Matters

Election Day for Ohio Issue 2, the taxpayer veto of Senate Bill 5, will finally arrive on Tuesday. Once the results are in, many smart analysts for media, political parties, unions, and think tanks will be studying the entrails to determine what we’ve learned from Senate Bill 5.

But we don’t need to wait that long to note three critical lessons that public educators should take away from these past nine months. And maybe we shouldn’t: by identifying them now, they won’t be contaminated by our reactions to Election Night.
So regardless of the outcome on November 8, I would suggest that our future survival as a profession–not just here but across the country–may depend on the intelligence with which we understand these lessons and the speed with which we apply them.
I call these the “three things that matter”:
  • leadership matters;
  • elections matter;
  • ideas matter.


I. Leadership matters.

This campaign reminds us once again of the overwhelming importance of leadership. We’ve seen over and over again that strong local leadership can make the difference between a proactive and a reactive membership. We have seen this consistently over relatively peaceful years–in negotiations, in professional development, in legislative awareness, and in member protection. If we find it to be true in calmer times, we shouldn’t be surprised that we find it during a crisis.
Among our locals, the ones that most readily influenced this campaign were the ones that were already positioned to do so. During years of relative peace, they had organized themselves so that when war came, they were ready to fight.
Let me be clear: I don’t mean to imply that many previously sleepy locals didn’t eventually do heroic things. What I do mean to say is that locals that got a crash course in local leadership would be unwise to forget those lessons now. We will need that leadership in the years ahead, no matter what happens on Election Day.
When I talk about leadership here, I am not speaking only of the actions of elected or appointed local leaders. Voicing an opinion or asking a question at a membership meeting is leadership. So is volunteering for a task that needs to be done. So is refusing to go along with an injustice. Crises have a way of bringing rank-and-file members into both formal and informal leadership roles. We must not waste this crisis. We must find ways for members who have just now become motivated and involved to stay that way. And that is the role of elected and appointed local leaders, and it will be their unique challenge in the months and years ahead.
This crisis brought the importance of leadership into sharp focus. It might never have happened in so spectacular a fashion if we hadn’t lost an election in 2010. Which brings us to my next point: elections matter. I’ll have more on that tomorrow.

Thomas I. Lavezzi, 1946-2011

My brother Tom died today. He had been suffering from the effects of COPD for some time, and while a move from Colorado to the lower altitude of Las Vegas last fall made him more comfortable for a while, it couldn’t prevent the disease from progressing. Surgery performed last week to reduce pressure on his lungs gave some hope of prolonging his life, but the disease, a staph infection, and pneumonia had compromised his fragile lungs too much. In recent days, many members of the family had gathered in Las Vegas to say their goodbyes, and many of us were present at the hospital as he passed away peacefully.

Tom and I were born a little over three years apart, and I followed him through our elementary and high schools. The death of our father when Tom was nine and I was five left our mother as the family breadwinner. At a time when women’s roles were exemplified by the fictional June Cleaver, our mother raised four children even as she took over and continued ownership of the furniture manufacturing business that our father had owned and operated.
That meant making some hard decisions about her children, especially her two young sons. Tom had been active in the Paulist Choristers of Chicago, and he continued singing with the group for several years after our father’s death. He spent summers at choir camp and a relative’s farm in Michigan, while I spent summers in several camps, especially Camp St. Francis in Libertyville, Illinois.
The result was that we didn’t spend a great deal of time together during the summers as we were growing up. In school, each of us had our own agemates to relate to; I don’t recall having much interest in hanging out with his friends, even if they would have tolerated a kid brother hanging around. Ironically, it was years later that we became close, after I had moved to Cleveland and he had moved to Colorado. Later still, after I started a second career that has me in the car a lot, we were able to enjoy many long conversations while I would be driving home from meetings (always using a hands-free device, of course).
My, how I admired him! As an older brother, he was indisputably cool, good-looking, and popular. He was courageous and could be outrageous. He was one of the funniest people I knew. Throughout his life, he was a risk-taker. Gambling was more than a hobby: it was also a part of his style, characterizing his business dealings and many of his decisions in life. He rolled the dice when he left the city of his ancestors and his birth and struck out for the West; he rolled them when he started the company that remains his business legacy today; and he rolled the dice last year, when he and his wife Linda left their beloved mountain in an effort to reduce the strain on his lungs. His surgery was a gamble too, one whose terms he understood and accepted. He knew better than most that life deals some hands that are better than others and that you have to play the hand you’re dealt.
It was a blessing that so many of his children, grandchildren, nephews, and nieces joined Linda, his sisters, and me at his bedside for his final hours. It seems that everyone had a memory to share, and it was impressive to see how many younger persons who weren’t his biological children saw him as a father figure, a source of wisdom, and a role model.
His death at too early an age (as judged by human wisdom at least) reminds us that life is a gift not to be taken for granted. Tom was not a conventionally religious man, but I think he knew that the people we love are the sign of God in our lives, and we need to hold them close while we can.
In paradisum deducant te Angeli, Tom. May the angels lead you into paradise.