“When you’re living so intensely in your head there isn’t any different between what you imagine and what actually takes place. Therefore, you’re both omnipotent and powerless.”
― Chris Kraus, I Love Dick

Waiting in Line, Listening In, and the Education Industrial Complex

This morning, I was at the Wal-Mart.
Had to pick up a few things—Pop Tarts, yogurts, the new Taylor Swift record. Yes, I’m one of those.

Here’s some adult logic for you: I felt I needed the new album today, on vinyl, because earlier in the week I found a new vintage turntable at the thrift store. It was a Dual from the early ’70s, and it was around $30 with my senior discount. I thought I’d have to do a little restoration, but turns out somebody else already did the work—new cartridge, balanced tonearm, cleaned platter. Plugged it in at home and the sound was magnificent.

Obviously, that meant the only way to listen to the new Swift record was on vinyl. An ill-advised but necessary indulgence.

A Slow Morning at Wal-Mart

Anyway, back to my point. If you’ve ever shopped at Wal-Mart between 8 and 9 a.m., you know it’s one of the rare times when they actually have human cashiers, and the lines aren’t long. I picked one with just a single customer in front of me. She looked like she was wrapping up.

That was a little deceiving, though, because her husband had run back into the store to grab coffee. While we waited, the cashier and the customer struck up conversation.

It was one of those “do you know so-and-so? then of course you know them” conversations. Small-town web-of-connections stuff. At first, I grew annoyed. I’ve got things to do. Enough with the chit-chat, where is this guy?

Luckily, I caught myself.

Why am I in a hurry?

What do I have to do that will be rendered meaningless by a ten-minute delay?

So I slowed down. Stayed in the moment. And I eavesdropped.

The husband was a recently retired Metro bus driver. The cashier and the customer discovered they had a lot of mutual friends, though they’d never met before. They discussed the neighborhood, old jobs, kids, city politics. A lot of ground covered in just five minutes.

And you know what? It made me smile.

This sounds like a mundane, run-of-the-mill moment, but unfortunately, it’s moments like this that have disappeared from our world. We are always in such a hurry. We don’t have time for this “unproductive nonsense.” We’ve got shit to do.

But it’s not nonsense. It’s essential. Participation humanizes us, and it humanizes our neighbors. I’d argue it’s more important than most of the things we’re racing toward.

Always on Task—Even in Classrooms

That same obsession with efficiency has crept into our classrooms.

These days, there’s a constant drive to cover as much material as possible according to a preset timetable. A timetable set by adults—usually administrators—and born of a need to “cover everything they think is important,” whether it best serves the student or not.

We ratchet up the pressure by annually administering tests that measure what adults think kids need to know by an arbitrary age. We cloak all of that in “data” that often ignores childhood development in an effort to pad resumes and justify high salaries.

Tell me—
Which teacher will have a larger impact on a student? The one who slows down and explains something until it’s clear? Or the one who races to deliver every bullet point required by the superintendent?

I can’t help but speculate how much learning is lost by our relentless pursuit of always staying “on point.”

And when I left Wal-Mart, humming a little bit, I realized this: all the things I needed to get done that morning still got done. Nothing was lost by slowing down.

From Cashier Lines to Superintendent Scandals

By now, most of you are probably familiar with the story of the Des Moines superintendent, Ian Roberts, whose résumé has unraveled under scrutiny. His Olympic profile lists a 1980 birth year, while other documents suggest a much later date. Reports also indicate he entered the U.S. on a student visa in 1999 and simply never left.

To be fair, people I respect vouched for him. One told me: “I can usually spot these charlatans a mile away. They give off the grifter scent. This one felt authentic.”

Which just goes to prove: people are always more than the neat little boxes we try to put them in.

But his rise through the ranks—unchecked, unvetted—raises bigger questions. Like how DEI policies, designed with good intentions, can sometimes be manipulated for personal gain. It’s not a new story. Policy crafted in idealism rarely retains purity in practice. Unintended consequences always find a way of biting us in the ass.

And then there’s the curious supporting cast.

Enter Robert Lundin

If you’ve followed Tennessee education, you may recognize the name Robert Lundin.

He briefly served as an Assistant Superintendent at the Tennessee Department of Education under then-Commissioner Penny Schwinn. He handled virtual schools, charter schools, “innovative models,” private schools—you name it. A classic Teach for America alum brought into Tennessee as part of Schwinn’s reform wave.

Before that, he worked for Houston ISD. In 2017, he ran for a school board seat there. Lost by about a thousand votes. His campaign finance disclosures read like a who’s who of reform-world connections: Chris Barbic (the Achievement School District), folks from Leadership for Educational Equity, Bellwether Education Partners, various TFA alums and charter leaders.

In 2020, he was unceremoniously removed from his Tennessee role amid whispers of mismanagement around the state’s Independent Education Accounts (IEAs). But like so many in the “education industrial complex,” he landed on his feet.

His first stop was Burns/Van Fleet Educational Consulting, where he signed on as Vice President. That gig lasted less than a year. From there, he moved on to a communications role in Colorado’s Adams 14 district—another system teetering on state takeover. And then, surprise surprise, Chief Operating Officer of Des Moines schools.

That’s four jobs in a handful of years, each connected to dysfunction. Either Lundin is attracted to dumpster fires, or the system allows those who move from crisis to crisis to do so without consequence.

Years ago, I called this merry-go-round the Education Industrial Complex—a network that ensures failed executives still cash six-figure checks while kids, teachers, and communities deal with the fallout.

Who Vet the Vets?

In Des Moines, residents are rightly asking: how did no one catch Roberts’ inconsistencies? The board now plans to sue JG Consulting—the search firm that brought him forward.

If that name rings a bell, it should. JG Consulting is the same firm that recommended Sito Narcisse for Nashville before he left for Baton Rouge. Narcisse, of course, didn’t even finish his first contract there before bouncing.

Lucy, you got some splainin’ to do.

Schwinn, McMahon, and the DEI Shuffle

And then, because all roads in my writing seem to lead back to Tennessee, Roberts’ mess intersects with Penny Schwinn.

After her tenure as Tennessee Commissioner, Schwinn was nominated for a federal role under Trump. The Senate didn’t confirm her, but Linda McMahon (yes, of WWE fame, now Secretary of Education) kept her on as a paid advisor. The supposed link? McMahon loved Schwinn’s “Grow Your Own” teacher pipeline program.

Here’s where it gets weird.

The Trump administration has loudly promised to eradicate DEI. Yet one of their education hires built her brand on a program explicitly tied to DEI. Make it make sense.

Neetu Arnold at the Manhattan Institute recently wrote in the Wall Street Journal that “Grow Your Own” programs discriminate by race. Her argument: while designed to address teacher shortages and turnover, many of these initiatives prioritize scholarships and loan forgiveness for candidates of color over others. That may win points in diversity metrics, but it invites lawsuits—and just did, with DOJ suing Rhode Island for race-based debt relief.

Meanwhile, states like Mississippi and Alabama—hardly bastions of liberal policy—boosted outcomes through old-fashioned phonics and math instruction. No race-based scholarships necessary.

So what gives? Either DEI is the enemy, or it’s a pet project dressed up under different language. Depends which microphone you’re standing in front of.

Wrestling, Rabbits, and the Super Bowl

One last tangent (and I promise it connects). If you’re upset about Puerto Rican rapper Bad Bunny headlining the Super Bowl halftime show, remember: he’s also a former WWE 24/7 Champion. Yes, he wrestled at the 2022 Royal Rumble and 2023’s Backlash.

So if you’re mad about him singing at halftime, maybe take it up with Linda McMahon too.

Because in education and entertainment alike, the characters move between rings, sometimes literally.

Evaluation Systems: Common Sense vs. “Follow the Money”

Back in Tennessee, lawmakers are considering changes to teacher evaluation. The idea is simple: if a teacher consistently scores a 5, why evaluate them every year? Make it every three. If they’re a 4, evaluate every other year. Focus the real oversight where it’s needed.

It makes sense. Trust the system you’ve built. Don’t waste resources micromanaging your best people.

But advocacy groups like SCORE aren’t having it. They argue Tennessee’s evaluation system is a “nationally recognized pillar” that drives student achievement. Sounds nice, but correlation doesn’t equal causation.

Research can’t isolate whether teacher evaluations alone drive those improvements. More likely, the system just provides data for consultants and reform groups to churn into grant proposals and white papers.

Me? I say follow the money. It clarifies the picture every time.

Vouchers: Predictable Outcomes

Finally, vouchers.

The Tennessean reports that most of Tennessee’s first wave of vouchers went to religiously affiliated schools. No surprise there. About 80% of voucher schools are Christian or Catholic. A handful Islamic or Jewish.

Catholic schools, in particular, have long viewed vouchers as a lifeline to boost enrollment. With Tennessee’s growing Muslim population, Islamic schools are making the list too.

For many parents, school choice resembles their preschool decisions. Even non-religious families often enroll kids in church preschools because they’re affordable and structured. My own kids went to one. No regrets.

The bigger question is whether those same parents will feel the same about their K–12 choices a few years from now. My guess? Most will. Because once you choose a school, you tend to defend it—even when the cracks start to show.

Closing

Slowing down at Wal-Mart reminded me: human connection matters more than productivity charts. And digging into superintendent scandals reminded me: our education system too often allows the résumé builders to keep moving, while truth tellers are left behind.

In both cases, whether cashier lines or classrooms, the lesson is the same: stop, listen, and ask better questions.

This isn’t corporate media. It’s one person trying to pay attention—and keep others informed.

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Categories: Education