“Whatever happens to human beings trust is the atmosphere in which it thrives.”
― Sissela Bok

Something is going on over on Bransford Avenue.

Hard to figure out exactly what it is.

But something is going on.

The rumblings of pending audits have remained consistent since the beginning of the school year, as has the conversation around the manipulation of data.

For years, Metro Nashville Public Schools has increasingly relied on data to tell its story. Graduation rates. Test scores. Growth numbers. Attendance. College readiness. Career readiness. Dashboards. Strategic plans. PowerPoints.

Numbers everywhere.

And when the numbers look good, we are repeatedly told they are evidence that the strategies are working.

Fair enough.

But here’s the problem with building your success story almost entirely around numbers:

Eventually people start looking closely at the numbers.

And lately, more people seem to be looking.

By now, many Nashville education watchers have seen videos of former Teacher of the Year Samira Hardcastle accusing Metro Nashville Public Schools of forcing teachers to change grades and passing students she believes should not have passed.

Hardcastle tells the story of a student who received a failing grade on a project that was part of a competition involving the Tennessee Titans. According to Hardcastle, the student’s parent was highly competitive and wanted her daughter to earn recognition.

“The child came crying to me on the very last day of the nine weeks saying I have to change her grade,” Hardcastle said. “I said, ‘That’s, you got what you earned.’ And within the hour, the parent was up there complaining.”

When asked by The Tennessee Star whether school administration forced her to change the grade, Hardcastle said the decision came from the district.

She made a point of distinguishing between her principal and the people above her.

“My principal was supportive of me…but she also wants to follow policies and do what she’s supposed to, which is understandable,” Hardcastle said. “However, there’s only so much that she can do… because the district is having these meetings and forcing her to do things their way.”

That’s an allegation.

It deserves to be treated as one unless and until the evidence establishes otherwise.

But it’s also an allegation that deserves to be taken seriously.

Especially because Hardcastle isn’t the only person talking.

Over the last several weeks, I’ve heard from other teachers telling similar stories.

Usually these things follow a predictable cycle.

Somebody speaks up.

Everybody talks about it for three days.

The district issues a statement.

People get distracted by the next shiny object.

And the whole thing disappears.

This time feels different.

The flame keeps smoldering.

And lately it seems to be growing.

Maybe there is something to these accusations.

Credit Where Credit Is Due

This week The Tennessean‘s Andrea Williams reported that the Tennessee Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights is investigating allegations involving the use of credit recovery in MNPS.

For those unfamiliar with the term, credit recovery is exactly what it sounds like.

It’s a strategy designed to help struggling high school students stay on course to graduate by recovering credits for classes they previously failed.

Used correctly, it can be an important tool.

Kids screw up.

Kids fail classes.

Kids mature at different rates.

Kids sometimes need another path to demonstrate that they’ve mastered material.

I have no problem with that.

In fact, I’m all for giving kids another chance.

But another chance and a free pass are two entirely different things.

The Tennessee State Board of Education High School Policy describes credit recovery as:

“[C]redit recovery is a course-specific, standards-based extended learning opportunity for students who have previously been unsuccessful in mastering the standards required to receive course credit or earn promotion.”

That’s pretty straightforward.

The policy also provides guidelines governing when credit recovery can be used.

Most importantly:

“A credit recovery course shall not be the first time a student is exposed to the course content.”

Again, pretty straightforward.

Enter Constance Wade.

Wade, a former counselor at Stratford High School, has questioned whether MNPS has been following those rules.

Among the examples she has raised is a student who reportedly entered senior year with only 3.5 high school credits but managed to work through Integrated Math I, II and III, along with pre-calculus, in a single year.

Read that again.

Integrated Math I.

Integrated Math II.

Integrated Math III.

Pre-calculus.

One year.

Maybe that’s possible.

But if we’re going to tout graduation rates as evidence of academic success, somebody ought to be willing to explain how that works.

Wade alleges students were routinely pushed into credit recovery even when they weren’t eligible.

Even more troubling, she alleges administrators instructed teachers monitoring test-for-credit exams to advise students to revisit incorrect answers until they reached the required 60-percent benchmark.

Those are serious accusations.

They are not findings of guilt.

But they aren’t something you shrug off either.

We’ve Heard Whispers Before

Allegations involving the misuse of credit recovery are not new to MNPS.

Going back at least a decade, I’ve heard whispers about it.

The whispers never seem to get loud enough to force a reckoning.

But they never completely disappear either.

That’s worth remembering.

Maybe this time is different.

According to the reporting, Wade’s whistleblower complaint eventually caught the attention of the Tennessee Department of Education’s civil rights office because the students identified in her filing were Black.

On July 2, the office sent Wade a letter acknowledging plans to investigate:

“What actions, if any, the School and District took to remedy the claims that they collaborated to create and maintain a false narrative of academic success which disproportionately affected students of color by denying equal and meaningful access to educational opportunities starting in the 2022-23 school year until the 2025-26 school year.”

That’s a mouthful.

But don’t let the bureaucratic language obscure what is being alleged.

The accusation isn’t simply that somebody bent a rule.

The accusation is that adults charged with educating children may have created the appearance of academic success without providing students the education that success was supposed to represent.

If true, that’s not helping kids.

That’s abandoning them while making the spreadsheet look better.

Wade has repeatedly emphasized what she believes was the central office’s involvement.

According to her complaint, district-level employees approved test-for-credit exams for students she says were ineligible, and student transcripts recorded “Ps” instead of numerical grades.

Again: those claims are now subject to investigation.

They need to be investigated.

And the people involved deserve the opportunity to respond.

But Wade also makes a larger point that shouldn’t get lost in the paperwork.

“The students that are not educated, because you didn’t teach them, you changed the trajectory of these students for generations to come,” Wade said. “They end up working at a job that pays minimum wage. They end up being in a city that they cannot afford to buy a house in or to live in.”

That’s the part that matters.

Not the dashboard.

Not the press release.

Not the graduation-rate graphic.

The kid.

If these allegations prove true, this would be damning.

And everybody responsible should be held accountable.

The Dynasty

Over the last several years, MNPS has repeatedly cited data to support its success narrative.

Internally, high-ranking central office leaders have reportedly referred to themselves as a “dynasty.”

I’ve always found that kind of language interesting.

Dynasties are usually declared by somebody else.

Nobody called the 1990s Chicago Bulls a dynasty because Phil Jackson walked into a meeting and announced it.

They won championships.

Other people supplied the adjective.

But that’s the danger of falling in love with your own narrative.

Eventually you start believing the press releases.

If the allegations surrounding grades, credit recovery and student transcripts prove true, the word “dynasty” will take on a considerably different tint.

Reducing everything to numbers allows a school district to craft a favorable narrative.

Unfortunately, it supplies the exact same tools to its critics.

You can’t spend years telling everybody that the numbers prove you’re successful and then complain when people start asking how those numbers were produced.

Meanwhile, People Are Leaving

Amid all this questioning, several members of Director of Schools Dr. Adrienne Battle’s cabinet have decided to seek employment elsewhere.

Sara Chin, formerly MNPS’s Chief Strategy Officer, has left to work for the Ingram Group, where her work will involve business and strategy consulting for organizations navigating growth, change and complex organizational challenges.

She has been replaced by Dr. Jesse Tang.

Tang is a former Chicago Public Schools classroom teacher who has worked with the Harvard Graduate School of Education. He also served as principal at Denver Online Elementary and oversaw a community-driven turnaround at Schmitt Elementary in Southwest Denver.

Chief Operating Officer Maura Black Sullivan is returning to Memphis to work with the mayor’s team.

And CFO Jorge Robles is also leaving.

Robles has only been on the job a little over a year.

Now let’s be careful here.

People change jobs.

Talented people get recruited.

Families move.

Opportunities arise.

Three departures do not automatically equal a scandal.

Correlation ain’t causation.

But timing is timing.

And when you combine executive departures with persistent talk about audits and questions surrounding data practices, people are naturally going to start asking questions.

I always get a little nervous when the money people are among the first ones heading toward the door.

Maybe it’s nothing.

Maybe it’s something.

That’s why we ask questions.

And There May Be More Coming

There is also considerable chatter around Nashville education circles that WSMV investigative reporter Jeremy Finley has been working on an extensive MNPS investigation involving interviews and data.

I have not independently confirmed when such a report might air or exactly what it contains.

So treat that for what it is right now:

Chatter.

But if Finley is digging around, MNPS would be foolish to dismiss him as a lightweight.

Finley has a long history of investigative reporting.

The Nashville Scene has described him as “no stranger to blockbuster exposés.”

His previous reporting has included Toyota’s unintended-acceleration controversy, Nashville’s historic flood response, corruption involving former Judge Casey Moreland, people impersonating police officers in Middle Tennessee and reporting involving a sexual predator who ultimately went to prison.

He’s also been recognized multiple times by Investigative Reporters and Editors and has received national Edward R. Murrow and Headliner awards.

He may not be Phil Williams.

But I wouldn’t treat him like some guy with a Facebook page and a Ring light either.

This could get interesting.

And if nothing else, the next few months should tell us whether all the smoke we’ve been watching is attached to an actual fire.

Because right now there is a lot of smoke.

Teachers talking about grade changes.

A former counselor making allegations about credit recovery.

A state civil rights investigation.

Questions about transcripts.

Rumblings about audits.

Senior central-office departures.

And reporters apparently digging.

Any one of those things by itself might not mean much.

Put them together?

It’s enough to make me pay attention.

Something is going on over on Bransford Avenue.

The question is what.

AND THEN THERE’S THIS…

While all of this was swirling around Nashville education this week, The Tennessean decided to give us an article I’m not sure anybody needed.

For some reason, somebody decided this was the perfect moment to publish a searchable look at Tennessee teachers who have had their licenses disciplined over the last several years.

Per The Tennessean, there are roughly 65,000 teachers statewide, based on the latest available state data.

The State Board of Education tracks disciplinary actions and updates a rolling spreadsheet following its meetings, which typically occur quarterly.

According to the article, between January 2021 and late August 2026, 124 teachers had their licenses revoked and another 165 had licenses suspended.

Two had licenses restored.

Reporter Rachel Wegner then essentially asks readers:

Curious to see who has been disciplined?

And provides the tools to go digging through years of teacher license suspensions and revocations.

Why?

Seriously.

Why?

What public interest is being served by inviting people to rummage through years of disciplinary actions involving teachers who have already gone through the disciplinary process?

If there’s a current story involving educator misconduct, report the hell out of it.

If there’s a systemic failure in how Tennessee disciplines teachers, investigate it.

If dangerous teachers are being quietly shuffled from district to district, expose it.

If the State Board isn’t doing its job, put their feet to the fire.

That’s journalism.

But simply creating a convenient way for people to browse through the names of teachers who have already been disciplined?

I’m struggling to see the value.

Teaching is a hard fucking job.

It takes a toll on its practitioners.

Teachers spend their days managing 25 or 30 different personalities while trying to teach content, satisfy administrators, answer parent emails, enter data, attend meetings, complete professional development, implement whatever new initiative arrived from central office Tuesday morning and somehow still convince a 15-year-old that putting his AirPods away for 45 minutes isn’t a violation of the Geneva Convention.

And yes, teachers screw up.

Some screw up badly.

When they do, there are consequences.

There should be.

Nobody is arguing otherwise.

But people make mistakes for all kinds of reasons.

Some of those mistakes cost them their careers.

Some cost them their teaching licenses.

Some follow them for years.

Why do we need to drag them back into the public square after they’ve already paid the prescribed price?

Maybe I’m missing something.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

But at a moment when there are significant questions about how one of Tennessee’s largest school districts is handling grades, credit recovery and academic data, I’d rather see reporters digging into systems than inviting readers to browse a list of individual teachers who got themselves in trouble sometime during the last five years.

There is no shortage of education stories in Tennessee.

There is no shortage of people in power who need scrutiny.

There is no shortage of public records worth requesting.

And there sure as hell isn’t a shortage of questions worth asking.

Here’s one:

What exactly is going on over on Bransford Avenue?

Because something is.

And unlike a spreadsheet of teachers who have already been disciplined, the answer to that question could tell us something important about the education thousands of Nashville kids are receiving right now.

Come on, Tennessean.

You can do better.

So can the rest of us.

Nobody reads it, everybody quotes it.

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Categories: Education