The first day of school was always a day of mixed emotions, a fragile balance between fear and excitement, like standing on the edge of something vast and unknown.”
— *R.J. Palacio, Wonder
The alarm blares like a fire drill in a sleep lab—it’s 5 AM in Nashville. For parents of high schoolers, today isn’t just another early morning. It’s the annual return of the bleary-eyed scramble known as the first day of school—a sacred ritual of chaos, caffeine, and questionable breakfast choices.
A decade ago, we’d greet this day with anticipation—snapping a dozen pictures to share on social media. These days, the celebration feels more like a countdown to the finish line than a fresh start.
“I just want a peaceful year,” my daughter mumbles, toothbrush in hand.
“Amen,” I reply, grabbing the car keys and heading out to deliver the boy child to school.
Few of the preceding years have qualified as peaceful. It’s been an ongoing battle to ensure our kids get the services they deserve and equitable opportunities to succeed. And trust me, equity is a word school administrators love to say far more than they love to practice.
Sometimes we’ve scored wins. Mostly, we’ve been offered dismissals and platitudes: “They’ll be fine.” As if “fine” is the bar any parent aims for.
At the end of the day, my kids return with mixed reviews:
- Dr. So-So seems better than expected.
- Subject X is going to suck.
- Lunch is trash, and I don’t have any friends in my lunch period.
That last one isn’t just about food—it’s about classes too. If you want to curb tech dependence, maybe start by scheduling classes with social networks in mind.
After ten years as a school-age parent, one lesson is clear: who you’re in class with matters. If you’re in a sea of strangers, insecurity sets in and learning becomes harder.
Adults work best with people they know and like. Why expect kids to be any different? We know who these kids are. We know their friend groups. So why not honor those relationships?
Oh well. Three more years to go.
And then we’re done.
Battle, Settlements, and Selective Transparency
The ongoing saga of Metropolitan Nashville Public Schools (MNPS) and its $6.5 million lawsuit settlement continues to unfold—dragged out mostly by the district’s refusal to just zip it.
Last week, I told you about several central office members and principals updating their social media profiles with the tag #IAmWithHer, showing support for Superintendent Dr. Adrienne Battle. It only fueled the fire.
This week, Dr. Battle reportedly addressed the settlement at a back-to-school event:
“The truth of the matter is, we still stand on the decisions that we made. I think what you will see is that the results speak for themselves.”
Let’s add some clarity.
Battle and her allies want you to believe this lawsuit was born of pandemic chaos. In her version, the district was in crisis, and difficult reforms were required.
But the roots of this case go back years—specifically to her actions involving a situation with her brother before she became superintendent. What followed was a pattern of retaliation, one that persisted once she ascended to leadership.
She wants to defend her actions as efforts to “streamline” a bloated central office. The reality? The Hub, as it’s now called, is more bloated than ever.
When Battle took over, there were five “Chiefs,” each making just under $200K. Now? There are 12 Chiefs—all making over $200K—plus a support crew of consultants to help them do their jobs. Executive directors have multiplied, and the bureaucratic tower has grown ever taller.
Rebranding the central office as “The Hub” is ironic. A hub is supposed to center activity around students and families. But in MNPS, everything revolves around the central office.
Also, let’s be real: this lawsuit wasn’t about “decisions” made by a team. —this is about one person’s actions—and those actions cost the district $6.5 million.
Battle and the MNPS Board continue to talk about moving on. So why didn’t they move on five years ago?
They frame the settlement as fiscal responsibility. But how much did we spend on legal fees over five years? Two court rulings. Multiple depositions. Trial prep. That wasn’t free.
So let’s stop pretending $6.5 million was the full price.
Selective Transparency
MNPS doesn’t want you climbing through the manure pile to find the truth. Case in point: the board chair issued a statement—not to the press, but buried in a welcome-back letter to teachers, hidden in SharePoint.
Here’s a gem from Board Chair (and future County Clerk candidate) Frida Player:
“These included closing and consolidating schools, prioritizing effective school leadership, streamlining central office operations… reimagining the district office as a Support Hub… actions taken in good faith to prioritize student learning…”
Let’s be clear: That paragraph is pure spin. Player praises Battle’s leadership while failing to account for the obvious inconsistencies in their narrative.
And then there’s this baffling section:
“Over the past five years, MNPS has raised employee pay… instituted paid family leave… expanded restorative practices… increased early childhood availability… secured historic investments…”
Cool story. But those weren’t benevolent gifts from leadership. They were fought for by educators and staff. Listing them as resume points feels, at best, disingenuous.
And the most galling part? Battle and the board say they did nothing wrong—yet they paid $6.5 million.
In what world is that not losing?
If the plaintiffs are walking away richer, why are they the ones resigning and pledging never to return? The message is clear: Cross Battle, and you’re out—win or lose.
Retaliation, Redux
A lawsuit alleging retaliation ends in what looks and feels like more retaliation—except this time it’s bundled with hush money.
The more I see, the more it feels like a payout to silence dissent rather than an opportunity for growth or reflection.
And while we’re on the topic of nonsense…
Zach Young’s Fox Freeze-Out
MNPS Board Member Zach Young was asked by Fox 17 News for comment on the settlement. His reply:
“I don’t talk to Sinclair.”
Excuse me?
You’re an elected official. You don’t get to pick which constituents hear from you. Sinclair may be problematic, but plenty of voters get their news there. Refusing to speak to a media outlet because you don’t like its owner is arrogant and undemocratic.
We have to do better.
Reading Between the Lines
Meanwhile, The Tennessean is running a series on education policy. One piece examined Tennessee’s third grade reading retention law.
Three years in, and the results are… inconclusive.
2023: Only 40.5% of third graders passed ELA.
2024: 46.4% passed as fourth graders.
2025: 40.7% passed as fifth graders.
Kids move. Data shifts. It’s complicated.
Umut Özek of the RAND Corporation says it’s impossible to know what’s going on without individual student data.
But SCORE—the State Collaborative on Reforming Education—claims victory. Because of course they do.
“Fewer students are falling behind,” says Cortney Bell, SCORE’s VP of Research.
Look, you can cherry-pick metrics to support any narrative. The truth? Nobody really knows yet if the law helps or harms.
But that won’t stop the political machine from spinning its wheels.
Final Thoughts
If you’ve made it this far, thank you.
We’re in the thick of it here in Tennessee. Teachers are underpaid and undercut. Bonuses are used as political leverage. Unqualified leaders stay in power. Former leaders fail upward. Test scores are massaged for PR.
Our students deserve better. So do the educators who show up for them every day.
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Until next time, buckle up. The ride continues.
Categories: Education
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