“These days, Clarissa believes, you measure people first by their kindness and their capacity for devotion. You get tired, sometimes, of wit and intellect; everybody’s little display of genius.”
― Michael Cunningham, The Hours

Just like that… it’s a wrap. Another school year in the books.

Ready or not, I’ve now got a senior and a junior in the house. I’m decidedly not ready, though both of them most certainly are.

The years have gone so fast while somehow grinding along at the same time. Parenting teenagers is weird like that. One minute you’re standing in a kindergarten pickup line trying to figure out how a five-year-old can lose three jackets in two weeks, and the next you’re calculating how many baseball games and college visits are left before adulthood crashes through the front door.

You think you’ve got all the time in the world and then — bam — it’s over.

Our public school journey has been a mixed bag. Elementary school held such promise. Middle school was… middling. High school, meanwhile, has often felt like a race to the exit sign.

That’s not because my kids are struggling.

Quite the opposite.

Academically, the girl child sits in roughly the top five percent of her class. The boy child has carved out his own lane athletically, starting on both the varsity baseball and football teams. By every traditional metric, both are “successful” students.

But if you think schools are automatically more attractive places for successful kids than they are for struggling kids, I’ve got news for you.

After more than a decade inside the system, I can testify to this: public education is largely geared toward the middle. The system pushes lower-performing students upward while simultaneously trying to place a ceiling on higher-achieving students — all in an effort to defend the idea that public schools can effectively serve everybody in exactly the same way.

That statement tends to make people uncomfortable, but it’s true.

Metro Nashville Public Schools loves to celebrate the exceptional achievements of its student body. Every district does. Test score gains get packaged into press releases. Graduation rates become hashtags. State recognitions become LinkedIn celebrations for administrators and consultants.

But I can promise you this: ninety-five percent of student success comes from two things — individual hard work and a meaningful connection with a teacher willing to work every bit as hard as the student does.

And here’s the part central office rarely highlights: the system itself often makes both the student and the teacher jump through hoops in order to excel.

That’s where good principals matter.

A truly good principal creates the conditions for success. They protect teachers from unnecessary nonsense. They give educators the freedom and support to do extraordinary things. They recognize that education isn’t produced by a spreadsheet alignment meeting or a slogan printed on a banner. It’s produced by human beings building trust with other human beings.

Unfortunately, not everybody who holds the title of principal qualifies as a good principal.

A lot of kids graduate with untapped potential because nobody in authority ever prioritized what was best for the student over what looked best to central office.

Recently, Alignment Nashville announced that MNPS Director Dr. Adrienne Battle had been named the 2026 Mid-Cumberland Superintendent of the Year by the Tennessee Organization of School Superintendents. Alongside the announcement came the expected avalanche of accolades.

Dr. Gary Lilly, Executive Director of TOSS, said, “Dr. Battle is truly leading the region in the impact she is having on students in Nashville. This award is a recognition from her peer superintendents in Mid-Cumberland of years’ worth of innovation and service.”

Metro Nashville Board of Education Chair Freda Player added, “The progress MNPS has made is not accidental. Four consecutive years of Level 5 growth, record academic results, and gains that continue to outpace the state all point to a district with a clear vision and the discipline to follow through.”

No, Freda, it’s not accidental.

But what’s missing from those statements are the people actually doing the work.

It’s the baseball coach hitting ground balls for a kid at 9:30 at night because that kid wants to get better.

It’s the English teacher who sees through a teenage boy’s outward behavior and refuses to give up on him even when he’s making it difficult.

It’s the theater teacher spending weekends helping students discover confidence and purpose they didn’t know they possessed.

It’s the math teacher quietly instilling confidence in a student while administrators actively undermine him.

It’s the principal who protects all of those people so they can do their jobs.

That’s the story.

Not the slogan.

Dr. Battle, a Nashville native, John Overton graduate, and the first MNPS graduate to lead the district, said the award reflects “the work of our entire district: our students, educators, school leaders, support staff, families, Board of Education, Mayor and elected leaders, and community partners.”

I’d argue a more accurate rewrite would be:

“This shows what’s possible when teachers and students are supported by people willing to prioritize children over systems.”

Along the way, we’ve been blessed to encounter some magical educators and coaches who helped push my kids forward and expand their world. We’ve also encountered people who seemed intent on placing governors on their growth.

This year was no exception.

One teacher worked tirelessly to pull the best out of my son even when he made the process difficult. Another continuously reinforced my daughter’s confidence in her own academic ability despite the institutional pressures around him.

Those people matter.

As parents, you curate these experiences over time. The bright lights eventually outshine the people trying to funnel every child toward the same median outcome.

And now, for a couple months at least, all of that gets placed on the shelf.

Summer’s here.

The living may not be easy, but it’s a whole lot less intense.

Speaking of intensity, Tennessee’s absurd Third Grade Retention Law continues marching onward like a zombie policy nobody wants to admit doesn’t work the way it was originally advertised.

And as always, the media coverage continues to miss the mark.

The Tennessean recently reported that the release of third-grade reading scores “set off a fast-moving timeline to determine if tens of thousands of public school students will be held back or not.”

Technically, that’s true.

Practically, everybody involved knows it’s nonsense.

Despite years of political rhetoric and public fearmongering, Tennessee has retained fewer than 600 students annually under the law since its implementation. That number even includes students voluntarily retained by parents.

Yet every year the headlines suggest a statewide educational apocalypse.

The paper also explained that Tennessee’s retention law requires students to “earn a passing score” on the English language arts portion of TCAP to advance to fourth grade.

Except TCAP isn’t actually a pass/fail test.

It’s a snapshot.

That distinction matters.

The state has arbitrarily decided that students who fail to reach “meets expectations” should potentially face retention. I say potentially because lawmakers have added so many escape hatches into the process that most students advance anyway through retakes, summer school, tutoring, or portfolio appeals.

And what do all those interventions have in common?

Money.

Lots of money.

You didn’t think testing companies were supplying free retakes, did you?

You thought tutoring providers were volunteering out of the goodness of their hearts?

You thought summer programs materialized from thin air?

There is always a financial component.

Always.

Are some students benefiting from interventions? Sure. Probably.

Are others simply being pushed through a bureaucratic theater production designed to justify a policy already politically entrenched? Also yes.

Sometimes the difference between “approaching expectations” and “meets expectations” is literally one or two questions on a single test administered on a single day.

Without interventions, would some students naturally improve anyway? Probably.

Would some not improve? Probably.

But either way, every intervention creates another vendor contract, another consultant talking point, another adult résumé bullet point.

The machine keeps moving.

Meanwhile, Tennessee officials get to celebrate moving from 42nd to 26th in national education rankings and continue recycling the “fastest improving state” line like it’s still fresh fifteen years later.

My personal favorite talking point is the claim that Tennessee has been the fastest state at recovering from “learning loss.”

Learning loss.

That phrase alone deserves scrutiny.

The idea that children somehow stopped learning during the pandemic has always struck me as absurd. They were absolutely learning. They just weren’t necessarily learning the things adults could easily quantify or take credit for.

And therein lies the problem.

Our entire education accountability culture increasingly revolves around measuring only the forms of learning that fit neatly inside spreadsheets, dashboards, and PowerPoint presentations.

Which brings me to another recent story.

Big Machine Records CEO Scott Borchetta was loudly booed during a commencement speech at Middle Tennessee State University after praising artificial intelligence.

He told graduates, “AI is rewriting production as we sit here.” The crowd responded with boos.

Borchetta didn’t back down.

“I know it. Deal with it,” he responded. “It’s a tool… make it work for you.”

Here’s the thing:

He ain’t wrong.

And it isn’t just AI changing the world.

Technology changes everything. Economics change everything. Culture changes everything. Education changes whether systems are prepared for it or not.

Standing around booing the messenger doesn’t stop the transformation.

The challenge for schools isn’t preventing change. The challenge is preparing students for a world changing faster than bureaucratic systems are capable of adapting.

That means reassessing what we value.

What skills matter?

What knowledge matters?

What actually prepares students for the future?

And are our assessments aligned with reality, or are they still measuring a world that no longer exists?

In the meantime, if you’re a parent dealing with third-grade TCAP panic, here’s my advice:

Play the game.

But don’t overemphasize the test.

It’s a snapshot, not a life sentence.

Talk to your teachers. They can usually provide the context politicians and media outlets leave out.

The Tennessee State Board of Education also took another step this week toward allowing some students to opt out of portions of the state’s world language graduation requirements.

Under the proposed policy, students could substitute certain elective courses for one of the required world language credits, provided the decision aligns with a student’s “High School and Beyond Plan.”

I’ll be honest.

I’m not entirely sure what a “High School and Beyond Plan” is supposed to mean in practical terms, but I am familiar with the old saying:

“Man plans. God laughs.”

I can’t say I’m surprised that world language requirements are being deemphasized. In practice, many schools already offer limited options, typically narrowing choices to Spanish or French.

Meanwhile, we continue pretending we’re preparing students for a truly global economy while ignoring where economic and cultural influence is actually expanding.

Try finding robust Chinese or Korean language offerings in most Tennessee public schools.

Good luck.

In a world where Asian economic influence continues growing, those languages arguably create more long-term opportunity than many traditional offerings.

But educational policy discussions often lag decades behind reality.

By the time systems fully adapt, the world has already shifted again.

Before wrapping this up, let’s talk briefly about the MNPS budget currently sitting before Metro Council.

The district proudly highlighted its proposed 1.7% cost-of-living adjustment for employees, describing the increase as part of a commitment to helping employees keep pace with rising costs.

Sounds great on paper.

Until you do the math.

A teacher earning $50,000 annually would receive roughly an additional $850 per year before taxes.

Spread over twenty-six paychecks, that’s about $38 per check.

I’m not sure anybody’s living costs are only increasing by thirty-eight dollars every two weeks.

What’s also missing from those calculations is the dramatically increased workload and expectations placed on teachers over the last several years.

Teachers are asked to be educators, counselors, behavioral specialists, technology coordinators, testing coordinators, attendance specialists, crisis managers, and public relations representatives all at once.

And increasingly they’re expected to accomplish all of it while smiling through district branding campaigns about “joy” and “belonging.”

One other budget line caught my attention: roughly $200,000 dedicated toward building a philanthropic services arm designed to attract external funding aligned with district priorities.

That’s interesting.

Especially considering some outside partners already help fund retreats and travel opportunities for district leadership and administrators.

I’d love to hear more about how those relationships operate and what influence accompanies them.

Because public education increasingly feels caught between two competing realities:

On one hand, schools desperately need community support and resources.

On the other, the growing reliance on outside partnerships creates entirely new questions about influence, priorities, and accountability.

And somewhere in the middle of all that are teachers trying to teach kids and kids trying to figure out who they’re becoming.

Which, honestly, is probably where this whole conversation should have started in the first place.

Anyway.

The backpacks are finally down.

The alarm clocks can relax.

The school buses will disappear for a little while.

And parents across Nashville will spend the next ten weeks pretending they aren’t already silently counting how many days remain until August.

Happy summer, everybody.

Categories: Education