The Little Red Hen

I met Larry Bush in the fall of 1991. He was the President of the Britton-Macon Area School Board of Education. I was one of six candidates being considered for the superintendent position. When I received the news of his death on a Facebook post eight months ago, I learned he was three years younger than me. All the time I worked with him, I thought he was older. Three years younger than me is too young for anyone.

Larry took pride in his position. He was the person who called to offer me the job as superintendent. The new post included a two-thousand dollar raise from my principal job in Addison. That wasn’t much considering the additional responsibilities required but I wanted the title, Superintendent, so I accepted the position. I thought the title would open up more opportunities. I was right.

During my interview, I told the board that I would have no special relationships with any of the board members. I went on to clarify that I would be in constant contact with whomever they chose as their president. Having such a position meant they respected their choice. Everyone would have the same information, but the president might receive it first. Larry was that person for my first few years.

The most impactful move I made during my first year was to hold a goal setting workshop. I took the job in November, and we held the workshop in February. I knew when I was hired that the board wanted the district to change. To move forward. They had been close to closing because of inadequate funding and they were ready to go.

Three years prior to my arrival I had applied for the same position. They gave it to a seasoned superintendent who lasted a year. He was one and done, but during that one year he convinced the voters to increase their millage by six mills which was equal to an almost seventeen percent increase in property taxes. That meant the property owners of the district would have the highest millage rate in the county. He got it done, but it cost him his job.

When I arrived, they had adequate funding but no plan for moving forward. That February goal setting workshop was the first of sixteen we held. Each one raised the bar. Over time, the members of the Board changed, but not the direction of the district. We had a common path, and even the board members who ran to implement their personal agenda changed their mind when they understood our process for continued improvement.

The community was not in favor of all of our initiatives, but they supported most. The things that they didn’t support were due in part because it would cost more money. During all of my years in education I believed, and still believe, that I dealt with the two things most adults value most. Their children and their money. The challenge was convincing the voters that each ask for additional funds was in the best interest of their children. If they believed, they supported.

We went through a rough couple of years because no matter the ask, our request was turned down. Few people spoke up publicly in support, or against, our requests but they voted “no” at the polls. After a couple of disheartening losses, I wrote an appeal to the public asking for more community input. I based my request on the story of The Little Red Hen.

In my variation, I asked for help on determining a building improvement plan that district voters would approve.  The board and I had sought input in the past, but none developed.  We made new plans by altering the old, but we still failed.

I was extremely frustrated and wrote a story for the district newsletter about the Little Red Hen’s appeal to her fellow barnyard animals as she sought help in planting, growing, harvesting her wheat, milling her flour, and baking her bread.  None of the animals offered to help until it came time to eat.

I felt like that hen when the members of the district didn’t offer their input until it came time to vote. At the end of my story, I asked for help so the board and I could plant the type of seed the voters would support. Larry Bush, who had been off the Board for several years, showed up at the next board meeting with a five-pound bag of flour, plopped it down on the table in front of me, and said, “I’m here to help.”  His input helped put us on the right course.  I’ve not forgotten his loyalty to the district.

I was asked to apply for five different posts over my sixteen years. I went so far as to interview for one, but I decided to stay put. I couldn’t see changing jobs for a few thousand dollars because I’d have to start building a relationship with a new board. I had one that worked well with both current and past members, so I stayed put.  That proved to be a good thing for everyone.