“Just when you think something can’t get any worse someone who dislikes you comes to watch.”
― Denise Mina, Conviction

Yesterday marked the end of Tennessee’s 114th General Assembly.

It was an odd one.

A little longer than expected for an election year. A little louder. A little more performative. And if you were paying attention, a little more revealing about where things are headed.

They had a lot to do, I guess.

Or at least, they had a lot they wanted to be seen doing.

Because when you step back and look at the body of work, what stands out isn’t just what passed—it’s the pattern. The themes. The priorities.

This was a session marked by laws limiting protest rights in schools, permitting the Ten Commandments to be displayed in classrooms, opening the door for a state takeover of Memphis schools, and—of course—continuing the slow, steady expansion of vouchers.

And then there were the ideas that didn’t quite make it across the finish line.

Among them: multiple attempts to require schools to count undocumented students.

That effort, like a few others, mostly failed.

But “failed” doesn’t mean unimportant.

Because when lawmakers spend time introducing, debating, and refining an idea, they’re not just tossing it out for fun. They’re testing the waters. Seeing what sticks. Figuring out how far they can push.

And in this case, what they were pushing toward was pretty clear.

Testing, Testing… and More Testing

There was also the strange little saga of state testing.

At one point, lawmakers moved to exclude schools participating in the original voucher program from state testing requirements.

That effort failed.

And then—because nothing ever really dies at the legislature—it came back two days later. Stripped down. Controversial elements removed. Voucher expansion peeled away.

And just like that, it passed.

Let me be honest here.

Listening to grown adults argue over the merits of state testing made me want to stick a fork in my eye.

Not because testing doesn’t matter.

But because the conversation is so often detached from reality.

Lost in all the shouting were a couple of basic facts.

First, the state already allows districts to choose their own benchmark tests from a list of seven different assessments. And by law, they’re required to administer those tests three times a year.

Three.

Different.

Times.

So we already have a system where measurement varies from district to district, test to test, window to window. Apples-to-apples comparisons? Good luck.

And yet, somehow, nobody seemed particularly bothered by that.

No outrage. No floor speeches. No dramatic warnings about data integrity.

But now—now—we’re supposed to take the results of a single state test, administered on a single day, and treat it like it was handed down on stone tablets.

Immutable. Absolute. Beyond question.

And not just that.

We’re supposed to weaponize it.

“You’re Scared”

That’s where things really came into focus.

During one of the debates, Rep. Sam McKenzie put it plainly:

“You’re scared. You’re scared that this experiment is failing,” Rep. Sam McKenzie, a Knoxville Democrat, said on the floor. “Experiments are great. You get your hypothesis, and you perform your experiments. That’s a good thing, that’s the scientific way. But sometimes the measurement does not align with your hypothesis.”

That’s not just a shot across the aisle.

That’s an indictment of the entire framework.

Because if you’re designing a system where the measurement has to prove your point—where the outcome is predetermined—then it’s not accountability.

It’s theater.

And what kind of message does that send to students?

“Hey kids, we need you to score well on this test so we can win a political argument.”

That’s not education.

That’s conscription.

This Isn’t a Game

Somewhere along the way, we started treating education like a sporting event.

Pick your side. Wear your colors. Cheer your team.

Public vs. private. District vs. charter. Vouchers vs. “the system.”

And now even test scores are being dragged into it like box scores after a Friday night game.

But education isn’t a game.

It’s not about winning.

It’s about preparing kids for life.

That’s it.

That should be the goal. That should be the metric. That should be what we celebrate.

And for millions of kids, the public school system does that job really, really well.

But not for all of them.

There are always going to be students who need something different. Something more. Something outside the traditional model.

And those kids should have options.

Real options.

Not politically convenient ones. Not ones designed to score points. But options that actually meet their needs.

The Myth of Being Broke

Now let’s talk about something that comes up every single year:

The idea that schools are perpetually on the brink of financial collapse.

You hear it over and over again.

“We’re underfunded.”
“We don’t have enough resources.”
“We can’t do more with less.”

And look—there’s truth in that.

But there’s also a disconnect.

Because at the same time those arguments are being made, you see spending decisions that don’t exactly scream “we’re scraping by.”

Take Metro Nashville Public Schools.

Since Dr. Adrienne Battle took over, principals have been taking annual out-of-town trips for summer meetings.

It started small.

A state park.

Reasonable.

Then it grew.

Further away. Bigger. More people.

Last year? Muscle Shoals, Alabama.

This year? Louisville.

Why Louisville?

Seems like a cool place.

But necessary? Or just another perk dressed up as policy?

And it’s not just principals going.

You’re talking central office staff too. Roughly 250 people when you add it all up.

That’s not a small tab.

That’s real money.

So here’s the question:

What’s the return?

Is there any measurable impact on student outcomes?

Any data point that says, “Yes, sending hundreds of administrators out of town for a few days directly improves what happens in the classroom”?

I’ve been asking that for a while.

Still waiting on an answer.

The “Not Taxpayer Money” Defense

Now, to be fair, district leadership will tell you this isn’t funded by taxpayer dollars.

They’ll say it’s covered by a local nonprofit.

Fine.

Let’s accept that for a second.

Even then—there’s another issue.

MNPS is almost entirely funded by taxpayer dollars.

So if you’re going to spend a half-million dollars on something like this—and that’s a reasonable estimate—you’d think there might be some value in keeping that money local.

Investing it back into the Nashville economy.

Hotels. Restaurants. Service workers. Drivers.

Instead?

Louisville gets the boost.

Their hotels. Their bartenders. Their servers. Their economy.

Not Nashville.

Not the people whose tax dollars fund the system in the first place.

And again—for what?

That’s the disconnect.

That’s what people are reacting to when they hear “we’re broke.”

Memphis and the Takeover Debate

Back at the legislature, one of the more significant moves this session was the bill allowing a state takeover of Memphis schools.

This one got heated.

Supporters argued that intervention is necessary.

The data point they kept going back to?

More than 75% of Memphis students are not proficient in reading and math.

That’s a real problem.

No sugarcoating it.

But there’s another piece of the data that matters too:

Memphis has earned the highest possible score in academic growth for four straight years.

So what do you do with that?

Growth is good.

Improvement is good.

But if students aren’t reaching proficiency, does growth really matter?

That’s the uncomfortable question.

Because nobody gets into college based on growth scores.

Nobody gets hired because they improved faster than average.

Outcomes matter.

At the same time, there’s a different question that doesn’t get asked nearly enough:

What makes the state think it will do better?

Because historically, there’s not a lot of evidence to support that idea.

State takeovers sound decisive.

They sound like action.

But results?

That’s another story.

The Moment That Said Too Much

And then there was the moment.

Every session has one.

This year, it came during that Memphis debate.

State Senator Adam Lowe decided to share a joke from back home in Calhoun:

That maybe the best way to improve Tennessee education would be to give Memphis to Arkansas.

Yeah.

That didn’t go over well.

Because jokes like that tend to reveal more than they’re supposed to.

Campaign Season Begins

With the session over, the focus shifts.

Campaign season is officially underway.

Fundraising ramps up. Messaging tightens. Lines get drawn.

This year, Tennessee is electing a new governor.

Right now, Senator Marsha Blackburn looks like the clear frontrunner on the Republican side.

Double-digit lead.

Strong name recognition.

And on the Democratic side… well, history suggests it’s an uphill climb.

A steep one.

But the bigger story might not be the governor.

It’s what comes after.

Because a new governor means a new Commissioner of Education.

And a new commissioner means a new agenda.

New priorities. New strategies. New experiments.

That’s where things get interesting.

MNPS: The Rumor Mill

Let’s dip into the local side for a minute.

Because while the state was wrapping up, the MNPS rumor mill has been doing what it does best.

First up: James Witty.

Former virtual school principal. Then HR executive.

Now? Gone.

He posted the standard “moving on” message.

Grateful. Reflective. Non-specific.

And in a district where secrets rarely stay secret, nobody seems to know what’s next.

Which, honestly, makes it more interesting.

Then there’s Mason Bellamy.

Left his role as Chief Academic Officer to “reconnect with his wife.”

Six months later?

Back in a chief role.

With a raise.

Despite policy that says you’re supposed to wait a year before returning.

Now he’s Chief of Special Projects.

What projects?

Good question.

He was brought back to oversee the rollout of weapons detection systems.

That’s done.

Expansion to middle schools?

Also done.

So what’s left?

Nobody seems to know.

Which either means it’s incredibly important…

Or not at all.

Equity—In Theory and Practice

I often take issue with how we talk about equity.

Not because the idea is wrong.

But because the practice rarely matches the rhetoric.

Case in point:

Recent coaching hires for women’s high school sports.

Every one of them?

Black male coaches.

Now let me be clear.

This isn’t a criticism of those coaches.

At all.

Some of them are excellent.

One of them probably should be coaching the boys’ team.

But the question still stands:

Are there no qualified women in Davidson County to coach women’s sports?

Because if we’re going to talk about equity—constantly—publicly—loudly—

Then at some point, we have to practice it too.

The Workbench

This isn’t corporate media.

There’s no team.

No budget.

No handlers.

It’s just me.

Trying to keep up.

Trying to make sense of it.

Trying to follow how all of this fits together.

And the best way I know how to think about it is the same way I think about the old hi-fi gear sitting on my workbench.

You open it up.

You look inside.

And eventually, you start to see it.

Where things are supposed to move.

Where they’re getting stuck.

Where the grease has hardened and everything just… slows down.

And once you see it, the fix usually isn’t complicated.

It’s attention.

It’s honesty.

It’s being willing to say, “This isn’t working.”

But that’s the part that’s hardest for systems.

Because systems—especially big ones—don’t like admitting that.

They’d rather keep pushing.

Keep forcing it.

Grinding the gears.

Pretending everything’s fine.

Until something breaks loud enough that nobody can ignore it anymore.

If You Made It This Far

If you’ve made it this far, you probably get it.

You see the patterns.

The contradictions.

The gap between what’s said and what’s done.

And if you think that matters…

You know where to find me.

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

Categories: Education