Every city contains wicked citizens from time to time and an ignorant populace all the time.”
― Livy, Rome and the Mediterranean: Books XXXI-XLV of the History of Rome from its Foundation

I’m struggling—and I think we all are.

I’m going to admit it: I’ve been struggling. The events of the last two weeks have left me angry, confused, depressed, and unmoored. I doubt I’m the only one.

I’ve never been much of a partisan guy. Some years I lean Left, some years Right. These days, I’m just fed up—with both sides. The endless partisan bickering in the face of real tragedy leaves me feeling hollow.

When my son was younger, we used to go to WrestleMania. The hero vs. the heel. The crowd split into camps, screaming at the top of their lungs. But backstage? Those “enemies” were laughing, splitting the profits. The more drama they served, the more cash they made.

Now, it feels like we’re all trapped in that same performance—and there’s no exit.

Charlie Kirk is a hero. Charlie Kirk is a villain.
Donald Trump is a savior. Donald Trump is a tyrant.
Liberals are evil. Republicans are fascists.
All words matter—except the ones I’m using.

We stake our reputations on statements we make like we’re in the White House briefing room, all while ignoring the puppetry going on backstage. During COVID, we ridiculed people for “doing their own research.” Now, we embrace that same behavior—even when the original facts fall apart.

And once again, we rush to classify Charlie Kirk’s assassin: Far Left? Far Right? Based on breadcrumbs of evidence.

Here’s what I believe: he wasn’t either. He was a young man drowning in rhetoric from both extremes. Like that obsessed wrestling fan, he bought the merch and picked a side. The result was a horrifying tragedy.

Charlie Kirk’s assassination was different.

To my knowledge, he’s the first American public figure to be assassinated while actively engaging in public dialogue. He wasn’t giving a fiery speech. He was answering questions from students. And then it ended—in an instant.

That alone makes this moment historic.

Words Matter—And So Does How We Use Them

We can’t respond by censoring ourselves out of fear. And we can’t respond by censoring others under the illusion that less speech will make us safer.

We need more conversations—not fewer.

But we also need to remember that language carries weight. You won’t hear me tossing around words like “rape” or “lynching” unless those words accurately describe the situation. Same goes for “fascist” and “Nazi.” If everything is fascism, then nothing is.

Columnist Cameron Smith wrote in The Tennessean:

“We’ve recently heard from countless politicians passionately telling us that violence has no place in our politics. A brief look at American history quickly refutes such a claim. We are a nation born of violent rebellion based on political grievances. We waged a bloody war against our own countrymen on account of deep governing disagreements. Monuments across our nation pay tribute to political dissidents who fought and died for the freedoms we now hold cheaply. At times, political violence and national separation is warranted. That’s literally what our Declaration of Independence explains.

Yet political violence must remain our last resort; not our first response.”

He’s not wrong—but God, it’s hard to admit.

Everyone’s Talking, But No One’s Listening

I abhor censorship. And I abhor using social media as a weapon to punish those I disagree with. But I’m also not blind.

One party dominates talk radio. The other dominates late-night television. Both are building narratives that often leave out key truths. How do we fight back against spin when it’s baked into our entertainment?

I know some educators have used their platform to push political agendas. But now every teacher will pay for those missteps.

Here in Tennessee, you can bet teacher tenure will be on the chopping block in the next legislative session. Politicians will frame it as preventing political speech in classrooms. But they’ll miss that tenure protects teachers from corrupt administrators. Tenure doesn’t mean you can’t be fired—it just means there’s a process.

Am I the Problem?

I wish I had something profound to say. I wish I had clarity. But honestly? I barely understand my own thoughts right now.

One of the reasons I started blogging was Julian Vasquez Heilig. At a gathering of Southern public education advocates, he asked me, “Why not start your own blog?”

So I did.

These days, Julian is warning of the collapse of American democracy. In a recent post, he compares people like me to “good Germans,” complicit through silence. He writes:

“So what does complicity look like in our own time? It looks like shrugging at corruption because ‘both sides do it.’ It looks like refusing to participate in politics because it feels too messy. It looks like laughing off bigoted jokes about Muslims, immigrants, or people of color rather than confronting them. It looks like saying nothing when an educator is fired for a social media post or public speech. It looks like tolerating a political culture in which free speech is defined as the right to praise Charlie Kirk but not the right to criticize him.”

My first reaction? If he’s right, then he is going to owe a debt of gratitude to the Second Amendment and the Founding Fathers. The threat of an authoritarian government is why the ammendment was written.

My second? There’s zero self-reflection in that piece. It’s as if his “team” has done no wrong, and only the “other side” is guilty of censorship and complicity.

Just yesterday, I mentioned Jimmy Kimmel’s suspension to a friend. When I shared a detail he didn’t know, he replied: “Didn’t realize you’d become a Trumpeter.”

I’m not. But how do you have a real conversation when that accusation hangs over your head?

And let’s stop pretending Trump supporters are some fringe faction. Over 77 million Americans voted for him—49.8% of the electorate. They’re not going anywhere.

Here’s Julian’s closing shot:

“The end of democracy is not inevitable. It is a possibility, shaped by choices. And those choices are not only made by demagogues. They are made by the rest of us. Every time we shrug at a lie, every time we stay silent in the face of repression, every time we tell ourselves that nothing we do will matter, we contribute to the erosion. But every time we speak, resist, and defend the principles of equality and freedom, we strengthen the possibility of renewal.

The ‘good Germans’ of history were judged not because they lacked humanity but because they chose silence when it mattered most. Our test is unfolding in real time. The question is not whether Charlie Kirk deserves criticism—he does, given his record of demonizing entire communities—but it’s up to us whether we will allow his unfortunate assassination to be transformed into a weapon against democratic dissent. If we do, we will have become the good Germans of our own time.”

Let’s pause there. “Unfortunate”?

Unfortunate is when Kroger runs out of Froot Loops. A political assassination—whether it’s Charlie Kirk or Minnesota House Speaker Emerita Melissa Hortman and her husband—is horrific. It should shake us to the core.

If saving democracy means we lose compassion for our fellow Americans, maybe we don’t deserve it.

The only action I can recommend right now is kindness. Show it often.

To others. And to yourself.

MNPS Discipline Reform: Progress or Pressure?

Metro Nashville Public Schools has reduced unique suspensions by 1,624 over the last four years. Good news, right?

Maybe.

A “unique suspension” just means the first time a student is suspended. But fewer suspensions don’t necessarily mean fewer offenses—often, it just means different reporting. Nationally, student behavior is worse than ever, and it’s one of the top reasons teachers are leaving.

What’s worse, MNPS’s suspension data is growing more disproportionate. Black students are 4 times more likely than Hispanic students—and 7 times more likely than white students—to be suspended. They now make up two-thirds of all unique suspensions.

Superintendent Dr. Adrienne Battle has set a goal: reduce suspensions by 30%. That’s a big ask. And it risks focusing more on metrics than on the real causes of misbehavior.

DEI-inspired policies across urban districts have reduced suspension numbers—but at the cost of rising school violence and disruptions. A 2025 Teachers Pay Teachers study found most educators believe behavior has worsened. The 2024 Rand study listed “student behavior” as the top classroom stressor. Even the NEA says 80% of teachers believe student behavior is a serious problem.

If MNPS hits that 30% goal, district leadership might look good—but will schools be safer?

That’s the question.

Voucher Program Secrecy

Chalkbeat Tennessee reports that the Tennessee Department of Education still won’t say how many students are enrolled in the state’s new voucher program.

They’ve delayed public records, denied access to lawmakers, and failed to publish promised data.

Even news stations like WBIR have requested interviews multiple times—no response.

House Speaker Cameron Sexton admits he’s seen “preliminary information” but says the Department isn’t even tracking whether voucher recipients were previously in public or private school.

His answer? “Next year.” It’s always next year.

Bomb Threat Protocols Make No Sense

One MNPS high school recently received a bomb threat and went on lockdown. Here’s the message parents received:

“All students and staff were directed to remain in classrooms while the school was thoroughly searched… No visitors will be permitted into the building.”

So… we’re locking students inside while searching for a bomb?

If the threat was internal, how would someone get past the weapons detection system? And if it was external, why lock them in?

Thankfully, the threat turned out to be part of a nationwide hoax. But this feels like a policy that needs another look.

Education Funding: Strange Choices

According to The New York Times, the Trump administration planned to inject nearly $500 million into HBCUs and tribal colleges.

Charter schools? Another $500 million—up from $440 million the year before.

But the catch?

To fund it, they cut:

• $15 million from magnet schools
• $9 million from gifted programs
• $31 million from Ready to Learn (which funds PBS kids’ shows)

It was a one-time move—but still, questionable math.

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Categories: Education