“Heavens never seals off all the exits”
― Mo Yan

Ice, Power, and Performative Change

Two weeks ago, Nashville took a hit.

The weekend began with snow and ended with the city entombed in ice. Not a pretty dusting. Not a charming Southern novelty. Real ice. The kind that snaps limbs, buckles lines, and reminds you just how fragile modern life really is. Nearly half the city lost power.

For the next week, Nashvillians waited.

Restoration was slow. Painfully slow. By Monday of this week—more than a week after the storm—roughly 80,000 homes were still without electricity. For some families, that meant no heat during nights that dipped into the teens. For others, it meant frozen pipes, burst lines, ruined ceilings, or worse. Fire and flooding became common refrains.

Through much of that first week, the political class was largely quiet. The linemen worked. Neighbors checked on neighbors. People cooked what they could, slept where they could, and posted updates online that were equal parts exhaustion and gallows humor.

Then week two arrived—and suddenly, so did the politicians.

Mayor Freddie O’Connell weighed in publicly on the ineffectiveness of the power company, calling for an independent review to determine what went wrong. For many residents still huddled under blankets, the answer felt clear as day.

According to public reporting and statements from NES, the alleged failures were many: Nashville Electric Service turned away mutual-aid line workers from East Tennessee and Kentucky; renewed a diversity, equity, and inclusion contract while storm preparedness remained inadequate; failed to aggressively trim trees well ahead of the ice; lacked a clearly executable disaster response plan; reduced its operating budget by roughly $7 million; and badly fumbled customer communications during the crisis.

NES acknowledged last week that it rejected outside mutual-aid crews due to protocol. Whether that protocol was situational or structural is little comfort when your house is 38 degrees.

At the state level, the response followed a familiar script.

House Speaker Cameron Sexton and House Majority Leader William Lamberth vowed to pursue legislative intervention—including potential restructuring or oversight—if Metro Council was unwilling to act. Sexton proclaimed that if local officials would not make changes, the General Assembly would do it for them.

Is it just me, or does House leadership always seem eager to take over something?

Metro Councils. School systems. Airports. Stadiums. The solution is almost always the same: threaten a state takeover. The good news—if there is any—is that they seldom succeed in these machinations. The threat itself is often the point.

From the other side of the aisle, Rep. John Ray Clemmons, chair of the House Democratic Caucus, decided that despite roughly 80,000 Nashvillians still without power, this was the moment for a political jab.

“I’m sure Speaker Sexton is uniquely interested in that—I mean, he lives in Nashville, so NES is who powers his home,” Clemmons remarked, referencing long-standing accusations that Sexton represents Crossville while maintaining a home two hours away in Nashville.

I’m sure cold, cranky Nashvillians thoroughly enjoyed the witty banter.

Meanwhile, Metro Nashville Public Schools Superintendent Dr. Adrienne Battle—mostly quiet during the storm—reemerged, offering food and clothing to those affected.

I don’t mean to be unsympathetic, but isn’t food and clothing kind of MNPS’s casserole dish?

No matter the crisis—weather, violence, displacement—the district’s reflexive response is the same. Like neighbors showing up with a baked ziti when something goes wrong. It’s not useless. It’s just deeply uncreative. And too often, it substitutes optics for outcomes.

Dr. Battle promised schools would reopen, despite district updates showing several buildings still without power as of Sunday, and countless students and teachers facing the same circumstances at home. By Tuesday morning, students were back at their desks—some wearing extra layers. Teachers without power were told they could use PTO days if they felt unable to report to work.

That last part landed with a thud.

As of today, several thousand residents remain without power. Social media is filled with posts from friends celebrating restored heat after twelve days, while others describe expensive damage done to their homes. The storm may be receding, but the consequences are still unfolding.

It’s been a hard two weeks. But Nashvillians are a hardy lot. Signs of progress are beginning to show—emerging like spring, which is just around the corner.

— — —

And then there’s MNPS.

This week also marked the conclusion of the district’s most recent staged political exercise: school start times.

Families have long complained about early high school schedules. Many students rise around 5:00 a.m. to be at school by 7:05. In the city’s more affluent neighborhoods, there has been no shortage of handwringing about sleep-deprived teens. Concerned parents cite studies showing students perform better with more sleep.

Taking up this cause during the last election cycle was then-mayoral candidate Freddie O’Connell, who vowed that when he became mayor, kids would rise at a reasonable hour.

Well—Freddie O’Connell is mayor now.

Last fall, MNPS launched a study to evaluate options and appetite for change. To no one’s surprise, and despite survey data showing no broad consensus for overhaul, the district announced this week that start times would change beginning next school year.

High school students will be most impacted, shifting to a 7:25 a.m. start. Middle schools will move ten minutes later. Elementary schedules will remain unchanged.

That’s right. High school students gain an extra twenty minutes of sleep—unless, of course, they decide to stay up thirty minutes later the night before.

This was the product of a six-month campaign whose full cost breakdown has not been publicly disclosed. Despite the modest outcome and unanswered cost questions, MNPS leadership quickly entered self-congratulatory mode.

“I’m grateful to the students, families, staff, and community members who shared feedback and helped shape a system designed to create meaningful change with minimal disruption to family routines,” said Board Member Erin O’Hara Block. “While no schedule is ever perfect in a large urban district with complex transportation needs, we believe this is a positive step for our students, families, and staff.”

“This decision reflects months of listening to our community and carefully weighing what is both meaningful for students and workable for families and educators,” Superintendent Adrienne Battle added. “Even modest adjustments can make a real difference.”

Board Member Abigail Tylor added on Facebook: “While this plan isn’t my ideal, it’s a lot closer to my ideal than the current plan. It’s better to do something than nothing.”

That line stuck with me.

Because for much of the time, this board appears perfectly comfortable doing nothing—except, of course, when it comes to affirming Dr. Battle.

All of this congratulation came with precious little evidence that the change was demanded by a consensus of Nashville families. The district’s own press release contained a telling line:

“Survey results showed broad agreement that while the current tiered structure generally works for families, high school start times feel early for many students.”

MNPS Communications Executive Director Sean Braisted summarized the results more plainly to the board: people are generally good with the current structure, but open to modest, targeted changes.

That’s not a rallying cry.

Essentially, the roughly 23,000 survey respondents were saying this: yes, 5:00 a.m. comes early. No, we don’t love it. But we’ve learned to live with it. If you are going to change something, this is the least disruptive of three bad options—but don’t feel obligated to do it on our behalf.

Board Member Cheryl Mayes acknowledged that in speaking with constituents in her district, she found little support for making the change. When it came time to vote, her vote did not reflect those conversations. She voted yes.

Board Member T.K. Fayne voiced similar concerns, citing the survey’s failure to show majority support. She also voted to approve the change.

If these were my school board members, I’d be asking a simple question: why vote for something your constituents didn’t support?

It’s called a school board representative—not a school board oracle.

Also curious: central office employees were given their own category in the survey. Why? Unless you are a student or directly responsible for one, your opinion should not carry the same weight. That’s not disrespect. That’s governance.

Another issue largely lost in the conversation—but raised by Board Member Robert Taylor—was bus drop-off time. Logically, one might assume that a 20-minute later start equals a 20-minute later drop-off. Not so.

Dr. Battle attempted to explain the operational realities, then deferred to Carl Allen of Formative, a consultant working with MNPS on start-time analysis. Allen explained that a 20-minute change in start time does not necessarily translate to a 20-minute change in drop-off. In practice, those times might shift only 10 to 16 minutes.

So even the headline benefit is smaller than advertised.

Side note: a search of the Metro Nashville contract database, as of the most recent public posting, does not show a contract with Formative under that company name. Which raises an obvious question—who is paying for this study?

Maybe it’s Colin Kaepernick.

Who knows.

Another consequence went unaddressed entirely: working parents with rigid attendance requirements. Those jobs aren’t adjusting hours because MNPS read a study about sleep.

Which parent hasn’t dropped a child off early due to work constraints? It’s not ideal. But it’s real. And acknowledging that reality wouldn’t help a mayoral campaign narrative, so it never made the agenda.

This is a good place to stop pretending.

This wasn’t about families. Or teachers. Or transportation logistics.

This was about one man and a campaign promise.

Safe to say, that man is pleased.

“I’m thankful to the Board and community for their thoughtful decision because this will improve the supportive learning environment for all our students,” Mayor O’Connell said, noting he partnered with MNPS to secure funding for the study with 4MATIV. “This shows that we can take a step in the direction of the evidence, and sometimes that ability to make a change is important to demonstrate to ourselves.”

That quote offers insight into where the money came from—and runs headlong into the Metro Charter principle that establishes operational independence between Metro government and school governance.

My favorite reaction online described this as “a good start.”

A good start to what?

Sonya Thomas, CEO of PROPEL, cut through the fog:

“Even if you didn’t agree, you still had to pick a start time—meaning the decision was already made. The survey wasn’t truly asking for input; it was designed to make it look like community input when the outcome was already predetermined. This was a mayoral campaign priority and a safe political win. Literacy? Student outcomes? Those aren’t safe wins. Those take courage and real leadership.”

She’s not wrong.

— — —

One last thing.

This week it was revealed through board-approved legal settlements that if a 73-year-old woman breaks her ankle after falling in a Nashville school, MNPS will pay $220,000. If a 16-year-old student is shot and killed in a Metro school, the settlement is $300,000.

Just saying.

— — —

This isn’t corporate media. There’s no team. No budget. No handlers.

It’s just me—trying to keep up, trying to keep you informed, and trying to say what others won’t.

If you value that work:

Venmo: @Thomas-Weber-10
Cash App: $PeterAveryWeber
Tips: Norinrad10@yahoo.com

Until next time:

Accountability begins with accuracy—and with listening to the people closest to the work.

Safe wins get applause. Real leadership gets results.

Nashville deserves more of the latter.

Categories: Education