Representative Governance
November 11, 2014
A man in a hot air balloon, realizing he was lost, lowered the balloon to shout to a fellow on the ground: “The wind’s blown me off course. Can you tell me where I am?”
The man on the ground replied, “Sure. You’re hovering about 90 feet over this wheat field.”
The balloonist yelled, “You must be an engineer.”
“I am,” the man replied. “How did you know?”
“Well, everything you told me is technically correct but of absolutely no use.”
The engineer retorted, “You’re an executive, right?”
“How did you know?” the balloonist responded.
“Well, you were drifting in no particular direction before you asked for my help, and you’re still lost; but now it’s my fault.”
In addition to making me chuckle, that story reminds me that the world is very likely a much richer place when it has both bird’s-eye and on-the-ground perspectives. It is certainly true that our understanding of issues and answers in school sport is better when both views are voiced.
This reasoning is the basis for inviting any representative of a member school to serve on the MHSAA’s governing body, the Representative Council. Unlike many other states, seats at the MHSAA’s table are not limited to superintendents or to principals.
Throughout most of the MHSAA’s history, there has been a nearly equal balance of superintendents, principals, athletic directors and others on the 19-member Representative Council. However, in recent years the balance has shifted decidedly toward athletic directors, as superintendents have become increasingly occupied with keeping school districts afloat financially and principals are increasingly consumed with demonstrating improving student test scores.
The MHSAA’s Constitution provides for an election system that assures good diversity of school size and location on the Representative Council. The Constitution also provides for an appointment process that is intended to improve gender and minority membership on the Council. That provision is also being used to recruit superintendents and principals back to our table. We need policymakers who see things with a wide angle view as much as we need policymakers who see the daily details of school sports up close.
Towns Without Schools
September 18, 2015
"I forget the names of towns without rivers" is the opening line of a poem by Richard Hugo published in 1984, and recited by my fly fisherman son as he guided me on the Muskegon River last month.
My son thinks about rivers, while I think about schools. And my mind quickly converted the poetic line to, "I forget the names of towns without schools." I do. And I don't think I'm alone in this sentiment.
As I drive the length and width of Michigan's two peninsulas, I pass through many towns where school buildings have been converted to other uses or, more often, sit idle, surrounded by under-used commercial areas and vacant housing. I tend to forget the names of those towns.
Schools have been the anchor to, and given identity to, small towns throughout Michigan, and to the neighborhoods of larger towns. As schools have consolidated during the past two generations, many of the towns that lost their schools have also lost their identity and much of their vitality. The school consolidation movement that stripped towns and neighborhoods of their "brand" was supposed to improve access to broader and deeper curriculum choices for students and reduce the financial costs of delivering world-class education to local classrooms.
That's admirable. But of course, that thinking preceded the Internet which now allows students attending schools of any size in any place to receive any subject available in any other place in our state, nation or the world, and to do so without students being bused hither and yon and at much lower overhead compared to past delivery systems.
If we want to rejuvenate our state, returning schools to the center of small towns and neighborhoods will be central to our strategy. Both the technology and the teaching are available to do so in every corner of our state. It's the money spent on transporting children that's wasted; not the money on teaching those children in neighborhood facilities.