SOS - Burlington: From Secrets to Partnership

Remarks for Save Open Space Summit, Jan. 21, City Hall. 
Reimagine Burlington

   How did we get here? These days I often ask myself that kind of thing, looking back, thinking about the past. But 40 years ago, when I was new to Burlington, I thought mostly about the future, how it could be different and better.
   About that time I joined the faculty of Burlington College. It had another name then. Vermont Institute of Community Involvement, or just VICI. And one of the ideas of founder Steward LaCasce was to get away from "bricks and mortar" -- the big, expensive, campus-based model of higher education -- and, as much as possible, develop a community-based alternative, using existing resources and spaces around town. It was a practical form of involvement and interdependence.
   Eventually, the College did buy a building. But the idea of staying small and connected to the community persisted.
   At the time, the land we are here to save was owned by Vermont's Roman Catholic Diocese. The church purchased most of it from Burlington Free Press Publisher Henry Stacy in the 1870s. Before that it was farmland, and the city grew around it. A rolling meadow led to a bluff overlooking Lake Champlain, with a beach below, a forest of oak, red maple and pine at the southern edge, and a railroad tunnel under North Avenue. All in all, it is a special, irreplaceable piece of land.
   The church erected an imposing Victorian building, which housed orphans for a century. After World War II, the local diocese bought adjacent land and converted a cottage into a school for delinquents. After the St. Joseph Orphan Asylum and the Don Bosco School for Delinquent Boys closed, it became diocese headquarters and home for projects like Camp Holy Cross.
    So, the "school without walls" and the cloistered catholic campus near the lake. How did they get entangled? The answer begins with secrets, the first about what went on in the church -- and on that property.
   In the end dozens of former residents came forward, and revealed a dark, sordid history of physical and sexual abuse by nuns, priests and staff. Like other parts of the church, the diocese ultimately found itself under attack and in serious financial trouble. By May 2010, it had paid almost $20 million to settle 26 lawsuits. More were to follow. Selling the land was urgent to help cover up to $30 million in legal settlements for the abused.
    Developers expressed some interest, but disagreed about what the property was worth. There were also zoning restrictions, and some claimed the city was overvaluing the land. In any case, it went on the market in April 2010 for $12.5 million. The sale to BC for $10 million was announced on May 24, 2010, only a month later -- ten days after the diocese paid out $17. 65 million.  Based on about 200 housing units, a plan initially considered, a more reasonable price was probably $7 million or less.
   Why did the college pay that much? And what did its leaders expect? Like many decisions by private boards, it's mostly confidential, a shared secret. But we know the deal was promoted and brokered by Antonio Pomerleau, once known as the "godfather of Vermont shopping center development." Owner of Pomerleau Real Estate, a prominent, devoted Catholic who wanted to help the church, and a powerful, persuasive developer who for years chaired the Burlington Police Commission.
    In the early 1980s Pomerleau became an obvious target for Bernie Sanders, a capitalist mogul who wanted to rebuild the waterfront and controlled the Police Department. His $30 million waterfront redevelopment plan was derailed after Sanders' election as mayor. But the relationship changed. By the time College President Jane Sanders announced the purchase, Pomerleau was considered a family friend. In then-President Sanders' words, Pomerleau was the only man who could have made it happen. Someone to trust, who understood relationships. But it didn't hurt that he loaned the school $500,000 to close the deal. Yves Bradley, who subsequently became chair of the College's Board of Trustee, handled the 2010 transaction details for Pomerleau Real Estate.
   According to local sources, the school's leaders believed that, with connected friends like Sanders and Pomerleau, plus a Treasurer like Jonathan Leopold, handling the $10 million debt and $3 million for renovations was a reasonable expectation for a school with 200 students and revenues around $4 million a year. Big donors would come -- but they didn't. The Board also embraced another notion: that enrollment could double in five years, a goal well beyond the national average. It didn't.
    In retrospect, it sounds like magical thinking. Or just bad judgement. But somehow it made sense -- at least until September 2011, when Jane Sanders was forced to resign, mainly for not raising enough money. So began a three-year, silent slide toward insolvency.
    Exactly how many students attend BC today? Just how bad are its finances, and how did that happen? Why did one president resign suddenly in the parking lot? We don't know for sure. We also don't know whether the school will continue to exist as an independent college a year from now. 
    We could know more. We should. But it's a political hot potato. And the mayor has made it known that, although he's open to preserving a few "key attributes" for public use -- some forest, a garden, a path to the shore and Texaco beach -- he won't risk city funds or political capital. Instead, he's likely to wait until the deal is closed, then try to negotiate concessions during the zoning and permitting process. 
Many people in a position to make things happen, one way or another, appear to be on board with developer Eric Farrell's plan and the mayor's free market stance. But they are reluctant to say much.
    I'll conclude with a question and a vision. This land has seen more than enough secrets, loss and pain. Can't we find a better approach, a more open path? Can't we move from secrecy to partnership, a partnership in the public interest -- between conservation groups, local colleges, government and private capital -- brokered by engaged officials, combining sufficient housing with a modest campus, compatible projects, and as much open space as possible. With persistence, courage and political will, it can happen. 
    I still believe the future can be different -- and better. And that's why I think we're here.

Back to the Seventies: Leaving Burlington College

The original name -- Vermont Institute of Community Involvement -- was unusual for a college, and a little misleading – especially if you assume involvement means a deep engagement with local politics. What VICI founder Steward LaCasce had in mind was more modest and much more practical, the use of local venues – libraries, galleries, public buildings, other schools and so on – as meeting spaces for its classes. Involvement was primarily a matter of location for what was called “a school without walls.”

After four years VICI - which later changed that unwieldy name to Burlington College (BC) -- had about 100 students, 15 faculty members, and an annual budget of around $200,000. In addition to using existing community spaces for classes rather than focusing on "bricks and mortar," it allowed students to design their own academic experience, and used qualitative, written evaluations rather than grades to assess performance.

Author as
Vanguard Press Editor, 1980

In 1976, however, enrollment in the school’s associate degree program dropped for the first time. LaCasce, a professor of literature who had launched VICI with a group of friends in 1972, attributed the financial troubles to a decrease in the number of veterans enrolling and a delay in degree-granting privileges for its new B.A. program.

Faced with a growing deficit, he told the board of trustees in February 1977 that either staff salaries needed to be cut or the school might be forced to close. VICI survived that early brush with insolvency and won full accreditation in 1982. Over the next decades it became Burlington College, bought property on North Avenue to accommodate a growing staff and provide some in-house classroom space, and doubled the student body. In 2011 it moved to much larger campus on land purchased from the Catholic Diocese for $10 million. Today the college is fighting for survival.

At first the admissions strategy was to attract what were then called “non-traditional” learners, a catch-all for anyone not between 18 and 22 or who wanted an alternative to conventional academic restrictions. About a third of the first students were young Vietnam era vets. Others were single parents and “adult learners,” people returning to school after a break.

At the 1976 annual meeting the previous October, I'd joined the board of trustees as one of two elected faculty members. There were also two student board members. After approving a series of bylaws amendments, we voted to have the chair set up a special committee to evaluate the president’s performance, since he was coming to the end of a five-year term.

Shortly after that, I was elected to the executive committee, which led to an unusual assignment. I was tasked to complete a system analysis of the college’s administrative structure and processes, in line with other bylaws changes being considered and, especially, the concern that the school might face budget cuts in the near future. As part of my due diligence I reviewed documents, observed meetings, and conducted interviews with the staff.

The result was a report, issued in early January, concluding that the administration was divided, morale was low, and the president was viewed as mistrustful and isolated. The problems had been brewing, but this put them on paper. My concern, mentioned at the end of a summary, was that “organizational health may soon be jeopardized.”

A month later, as Lou Colasanti became the school’s first recipient of a bachelor of arts degree, LaCasce responded with an analysis of his own during a “special meeting” of the trustees. He acknowledged an atmosphere he described with words like “conflict,” “demoralization” and “confusion.” But his main point was that fewer vets were applying and the associate degree program had been neglected in favor of the new psychology and self-designed B.A. programs.

The result was a serious, survival-threatening situation. As LaCasce outlined it to the board of trustees in his Feb. 5 report, there were three choices:

1. Cut all staff salaries by 10 percent, but increase a half-time institutional services position to full time to improve morale. That would mean more work over the next months to balance the budget;

2. Eliminate almost all staff positions, with the president and a few others taking on more work. This would be even more demoralizing, he admitted, and would require that the board of trustees begin fundraising; or

3.Close the college on June 30, 1977.

But not only that. Unless the school was going to close LaCasce wanted “the authority to suspend the current College committee structure until the Spring Meeting of the Board.” It was a bold move to quiet criticism of his performance and quell discontent among faculty and students.

Two days later he asked me into his office and explained that I was being fired – for three reasons. First, during the previous week I had participated in a student meeting that he considered disruptive. Second, I had said at a meeting that I was willing to accept a reduced salary due to the budget problems. This undermined other staff members, he explained. And third, unity was necessary and other staff members didn’t trust me.

Afterward, I asked around and learned that his decision had been unilateral. No member of the staff or board had requested my dismissal. In fact, the core staff objected since, in the long term, if he could do this any of them might be next. As it worked out, several more soon left.

Over the next few days a petition circulated and a community meeting was arranged. The idea was to combine my firing with some proactive ideas, including a fundraising project and more student involvement in recruitment, curriculum and development. In the meantime, LaCasce sent me two letters. The first was an official, immediate dismissal, although it ended with this:

“I’m extremely sorry that things have worked out this way, and I believe that many of your ideas will, in time, be incorporated as part of VICI.” I can't say that the prediction was true.

The second letter was dated Feb. 10, the day before a community meeting at which we would both appear. “Many of your friends and students have asked me for specific details to support my decision,” he wrote. “I have said that I thought you could not work constructively within VICI this spring to help us reorganize the College and reach the goals that our trustees set at their February 5th meeting.”

He was willing to attend, however, and said he would be more specific in public. When he did appear nothing much more was revealed. The real motivation for such an abrupt dismissal, I’ve concluded, was most likely a course I had added to my load — Systems and Change — and its long-term group project, to conduct a deeper analysis of the school.

I could have sued and did confer with a lawyer. But what was the point? To win a few thousand dollars after years of legal sparring and potentially deeper bitterness. That felt like the optimistic forecast. No, I still loved the idea of the school. It seemed better for now to let it go.

A few weeks later I turned 30. As a birthday present I decided to give myself a vacation, the first in years and also the first outside North America. (The destination was Haiti but that’s another story.) In less than two years I was editing a new weekly newspaper called The Vermont Vanguard Press, and also back teaching at the college.
. . . and the story continues...

New Journalism & the Alternative Press

By the mid-1960s most college towns had some nearby liberated zone where you could cruise and drink and dream, and along the way find out about what was shaking in the “outside world.” For most Orangemen, the innocently sexist nickname for Syracuse University students, the place was Marshall Street, a commercial strip a few hundred feet off campus, where you could find coffee and company and “underground,” experimental, downright radical books and periodicals of every kind.

     Building on a tradition that stretched back to nineteenth century literary social criticism, early twentieth century investigative journalism, utopian community newspapers, and early radical magazines like The Masses, the modern American alternative press had emerged in mid-50s New York with The Village Voice and Dissent. Within a few years, Paul Krassner launched the irreverent Realist, publishing “diabolical dialogues” that mixed fantasy and reality.

     But a truly counter-cultural underground press movement would not fully blossom until the middle of the 1960s on the West Coast, and then quickly spread back across the country. After the LA Free Press, which provided a passionate voice for “the other side” – specifically youth, leftists, gays, and disaffected locals – came the Berkeley Barb, San Francisco Oracle (and later Bay Guardian), and New York’s East Village Other.

     What distinguished the underground press and “new journalism” writing from their predecessors was a combination of style, focus, and values. Abandoning what looked like the pretence of “objectivity,” most alternative writers embraced advocacy or adopted a more intimate and personal prose style, concerned yet sometimes cynical, detailed and still selective. Many of the publications even looked different, merging print and avant-garde graphics in ways that the mainstream media found unprofessional and alienating to their “mass” audiences.

      Max Scherr started the Berkeley Barb in 1965 to coincide with a Vietnam Day demonstration to stop troop trains. Visually uneven, sometimes shrill but always provocative, it soon reached a circulation of 90,000. The next year saw an explosion of underground papers. The San Francisco Oracle took full advantage of offset printing, the emerging photographic plate technology, to further fuse print and graphics in presenting articles on LSD, orientalia, and peace. In New York, The East Village Other adopted a more conventional layout style, but offered everything from quasi-academic pieces on Timothy Leary and Ken Kesey to underground comics and local coverage of knife fights in the city’s crime-scarred tenements.

     With newspapers popping up across the country, notably Detroit’s Fifth Estate and Lansing’s The Paper, a clearinghouse for articles and ads called Underground Press Service was also established, starting with half a dozen members but reaching 200 papers and a potential audience of more than a million readers within a few years. That was followed by Liberation News Service, which sent out packages three times a week to about 360 counter-cultural and political outlets.

     The psychedelic and “Marxist” wings of this nascent media movement ultimately fractured. But for a glittering moment, as activists and "hippies" looked for ways to “do your own thing” and “change the world” at the same time, there was The Rag out of Austin, perhaps the first “movement” paper – anarchist-structured and strongly anti-sexist, and The Rat, a political alternative to the East Village Other, and The Bird, with its catalog approach to tracking and backing political causes, not to mention Space City, started before a Houston anti-war demo, featuring a rotating staff and strong identification with Black and Chicano militants, and The Berkeley Tribe, born out of sectarian-inspired strikes against The Barb.

     Devouring any new publication that came along, I was increasingly excited by the transformation underway in journalistic and fiction writing. Both were providing increased space for imagination, advocacy and speculation. Just as fiction drifted away from social realism, “new journalists” were breaking with the reporting of isolated events, and starting to consider context and broader social impacts. Adopting some techniques of realism, they were developing devices that gave their writings an immediacy and emotional power missing in both objective reporting and surrealist fiction.

     Subjectivity, which had been common and acceptable during the nineteenth century era of “partisan” press and the turn-of-the-century “yellow journalism” period, returned under the banners of “advocacy” and the “non-fiction novel.” According to Tom Wolfe, a move from news reporting to this field led naturally to the discovery "that the basic reporting unit is no longer the datum, the piece of information, but the scene, since most of the sophisticated strategies of prose depend upon scenes." The old rules no longer apply when a journalist takes this leap, said Wolfe, "it is completely a test of his personality."

    Reporters were turning from the exclusively "objective" concerns for verification, specificity and readability that dominated conventional journalism to the uniqueness of each experience and the writer's impressions and intentions in becoming a witness. The presentation ranged from the polemic to the dramatic, as pioneers pondered their subjects in various aspects and relations.

    Certainly, this social revolution didn't significantly alter the way the "mainstream" press dealt with events. It did, however, expand the range of permissible expression for reporters, paralleling trends in documentary film making, where the subjective point of view has since become a powerful audio-visual tool, as well as in non-fiction writing.

     In the '60s, only a few authors dared to bring their personal experiences into consideration when writing about politics, sociology, and psychology. By the '80s such "testimonial" touches were commonplace; in certain fields, notable pop psychology, they virtually became a requirement.

     At the same moment, speculative fiction – an outgrowth of science fiction and fantasy – moved from the margins to the mainstream. The merging of surrealism and sci fi had begun with writers like Kurt Vonnegut, Ursula LeGuin, Samuel Delany, Harlan Ellison, Romain Gary and others who explored current and potential realities. Since then, this has attained the status of a highly popular genre, often affirming the view that the arithmetically predictable model of the world and universe is only one of many possibilities.

Part Six of “In the 60s: Education of an Outsider.” Originally published April 9, 2008. Next: Birth of the Counterculture

Collaborative Film: The Vermont Movie Tour

After years in development, Freedom and Unity: The Vermont Movie, a six-part collaborative documentary, begins a three month roadshow tour this weekend, with premiers and discussions scheduled across the state.

The six films synthesize the contributions of more than three dozen filmmakers and historians into an expressive, educational and occasionally provocative experience that explores the state’s unusual past and diverse contributions.

The Vermont Movie will tour the state from Sept. 27, 2013 to December 4, 2013. 

To promote dozens of screening locations and dates, the production has set up an online Tour Schedule. 

Gala Premieres in various Vermont counties will include catered receptions before the screening of Part One, and a Question & Answer session afterward. Screenings of Parts Two through Six will also include Q & A panels with Vermont Movie filmmakers and authorities on the content. 

Project coordinator and chief editor Nora Jacobson has spent years pulling together the pieces of this complex puzzle, shaping them into a thematically-driven narrative that is original, substantive and dramatic. The result is a series of films – each effective on its own – that explore the state’s nature over time through intimate portraits, indelible stories, dramatic recreations and interconnected topics.

Part One, titled A Very New Idea, examines the roots from which the future state grew. Samuel de Champlain steps into a canoe, paving the way for Yankee immersion into native culture. Along the way we see early settlements, native peoples’ resistance, and the little-known history of African American settlers.

Pioneer rebel Ethan Allen leads the struggle for independence, resulting in Vermont’s radical constitution – the first to outlaw slavery. Later, Vermont’s heroic role in the Civil War suggests that, despite occasional missteps, the state motto – Freedom and Unity – is especially apt.

As its title states, Part Two digs Under the Surface of the state’s bucolic image to explore labor wars, eugenics experiments, the McCarthy era, and progressive Republicanism. Covering almost a century -- post-Civil War to the 1950s — it chronicles the rise of unions and quarry work, Barre’s Socialist Party Labor Hall, the marketing of Vermont, the state’s reaction to New Deal policies, George Aiken's gentle populism, and Republican Ralph Flanders’ heroic stand against Joe McCarthy during the Red Scare. It also chronicles how emigrés from urban areas, “back-to- the-landers” like Helen and Scott Nearing and Nora Jacobson’s father came to Vermont in search of an alternative lifestyle.

Part Three, called Refuge, Reinvention and Revolution, begins in the mid-20th century, with political pioneers like Bill Meyer, a Congressman who challenged the Cold War, and Gov. Phil Hoff, whose 1962 victory set the stage for change. Innovation is reflected in the work of “talented tinkerers,” the rise of IBM, and the creation of the Interstate highways. But we see both the pros and cons, along with the high price of “eminent domain.”

Revolution was also in the air, and rare archival footage in Part Three provides a vivid look at the "hippies," the realities of communal life, and the paths of members of the counter-culture who established roots.

Titled Doers and Shapers, Part Four explores people and institutions that have pushed boundaries. Starting with education, it takes viewers on an engrossing journey through the philosophy of John Dewey, then to the hands-on style of Goddard College, the Putney School, and the inseparable connection between education and democracy. Exploring other progressive movements, Vermont’s billboard law, Act 250 and Bread and Puppet Theater, it concluded with touching moments from Vermont’s groundbreaking move toward gay marriage.

Part Five – Ceres’ Children – provides a deeper look at some of Vermont’s cherished traditions: participatory democracy and the conservation ethic, moving from the ideas of early environmentalist George Perkins Marsh to contemporary volunteer groups and movements.

Here The Vermont Movie captures 21st century debates over natural resources, then circles back in time to show how these concerns originate in the ethics of farmers, who depended on the natural world for their survival. The disappearance of dairy farms has raised tough questions explored in the film: How big is too big? How can Vermont survive in a world economy? And can it be a model for small, local and self-sufficient farming?

The final installment is called People’s Power, and tackles contemporary tensions over energy, independence, the environment and the state’s future. Chronicling the struggle to close the Vermont Yankee nuclear plant, it shows the power of protest, the influence of lobbyists and the importance of town meeting debate and a citizen legislature. It also follows the battle over windmills in Lowell—a struggle over scale, aesthetics and environmental impacts—and explores thorny questions about economics, sovereignty and climate change.

Toward the end, the devastating impacts of Hurricane Irene reveal the power not only of nature, but of people and community.

Prior to this production Jacobson’s directorial credits included Delivered Vacant, a documentary exploration of gentrification in Hoboken, and two independent features, My Mother’s Early Lovers and Nothing Like Dreaming, both shot in Vermont. 

Early in the evolution of The Vermont Movie, Jacobson opted for an ambitious, collaborative approach. Each filmmaker or team could pick one or more topics to develop, with periodic opportunities to share work in progress with peers and discuss how various segments could relate to the film’s overarching focus – Vermont’s independent spirit over the centuries.

As originally submitted early segments varied widely in style and content, and also left significant gaps in the story. But as more sequences were shot, dozens of interviews conducted, and rare old footage was rediscovered Jacobson ultimately evolved an approach that is original, unifying and evocative.

When Grads Come Back

(Or, how I spent my high school reunion)

By Greg Guma

In our hearts, sometimes we were the Jets, a teenage posse strutting down Bell Boulevard in Bayside, rapping lines from the opening song in West Side Story. We were also members of our own fraternity, Gamma Beta Sigma – otherwise known as GBS or the Guinea Ballbusters Society.

     Not that we were very tough. Our crib was a basement rec room, and Mrs. George Bernard Shaw – another GBS – was our mascot.

Holy Cross High

     To be honest, we were “normal,” relatively innocent kids who went to confession on Saturday night (before going out to “party”), early Baby Boomers, mostly Italian, and all student “knights” at Holy Cross High School in New York City during the early 1960s. My core group, my compadres – the guys I trusted, the ones who watched my back and kept me in line – were Paul, Jack, John, and Jim.

     I hadn’t seen most of them for decades, in most cases since graduating over 40 years ago. But they agreed to turn out for a high school reunion. Celebrating a half-century of educating “articulate Catholic youth,” the school was hosting dinner and dancing for grads from the early and later years on two consecutive nights in the school gym.

Revisiting the old days isn’t for everyone. For some, even thinking about it – no less actually contacting people who knew us when – can be painful and disconcerting. That may be why some prefer to put the past in a box and tuck it away, focusing on who we want to be rather than the way we were. At least that’s how I felt about it for many years.

     Attending a Catholic school wasn’t my idea. In September 1960, most of my friends were returning for ninth grade at one of New York’s better public junior highs. But I was off to spend four years “with my own kind,” as my parents put it. I’m still not sure what they meant, but it didn’t sound promising.

     As I soon learned, the Brothers of the Holy Cross put a heavy emphasis on faith, obedience, and orthodox piety. Gone were supportive teachers who nurtured my creative side. A beautiful closet socialist who used to sit on my desk, exposing me to political thought and encouraging my urge to write, was replaced by a freshman English teacher/football coach who opened his first class with the warning, “You're going to learn how to read, or you're going to learn how to bleed."  In the days of corporal punishment, it wasn't just a rhyme.

     Holy Cross upperclassmen had been in this thing together for years. Even most of the freshmen knew each other from attending parochial elementary schools around Queens County. I had no idea what it was about, and for a long time (until I found my crew) I felt like an outsider, a public school immigrant who didn’t know the score.

     Nevertheless, when a flyer arrived for the school reunion I was curious. Time had healed enough wounds, and it might be worth the seven-hour drive from Lake Champlain to Long Island to find out what had become of my high school compatriots.

     From the outside, Holy Cross looked the same – a grim stone building in a middle class neighborhood, decorated with an austere crucifix and the school’s name. Going inside early in the morning used to feel like entering a prison. 

     This time it was like time travel.

I arrived with Jack, my best friend from those days, wing man extraordinary, biting humorist, and primary co-conspirator in so many teenage adventures. Becoming a media educator on Long Island, he had handled labor relations for the teachers’ association and mentored students at the community radio station. It was hard to suppress a bit of envy, since he was on the verge of retiring from his full-time job.

     Inside, we linked up with Paul and John. Both had brought their wives.

Joan and Paul at the reunion

     Paul and Joan met while they were still in high school, and married once Joan finished nursing school. After playing in a rock band and a few years doing hair – his story about handling wigs for half-naked models was priceless – Paul settled into the insurance business. He’d put on a few pounds – truth be told, we all had – and yet was still the same slick dude, stylishly casual, a gold cross and an anchor (he enjoys sailing) hanging from his neck.

     During high school, a necklace played a role in one adventure that proved Paul was ready to go to the mat for our friendship. I had been meeting secretly with my girl friend – our parents disapproved of “going steady” – and we surreptitiously talked on the phone in the middle of the night.

     One night, my father burst in, Mom behind him holding the necklace she had discovered in my room. (Was nothing sacred?) The inscription told the tale: For my love. 

     “Who’s on the phone? Dad demanded as I hung up.

     “Paul,” I lied.

     “And what’s this?” Mom followed up, brandishing the evidence.

     “I'm holding it for him” was all I could muster. They immediately called his house.

     Awakened by his parents, Paul backed me up the best he could while half asleep. Our parents knew it was baloney, but there was no way to break us. We’d all seen The Great Escape, and understood what it meant to be part of the team.

“Joan’s still waiting for her necklace,” Paul joked 42 years later.

     We were strolling down the hall to our old in-school getaway, a tiny room from which our group had run the school’s public address system. For us – and our captive student audience – it was WHCH, a “radio” station that we used to offer news, the latest music, and the occasional crazy skit.  “Ah, the ‘don’t bother me, I’m busy’ room,” Paul recalled.

     Although the members of my group had varied interests in high school, we often joined the same clubs; athletics, forensics (various forms of public speaking), the Spanish Club, school paper, Great Books Club, and more.

     John and I also were part of the cheerleading squad (no girls attended Holy Cross, and someone had to orchestrate the cheering). Thinking back, we laughed about the trouble we sometimes had explaining why boys were cheerleaders. Still, he was surprised to learn why I actually joined – to irritate my over-protective parents, who worried that I might get injured doing flips or fall off the pyramid.

     Like Paul, John had become an insurance executive. His comfortable home on the New Jersey coast had cute nautical touches, and he was still the same straight-shooting, earnest guy. I dropped in several years ago, and our spirited political conversation went late into the night.

     Down in the gym, we grabbed a table and looked for faces we could recognize. Sometimes it wasn’t easy. But I had no trouble picking out Artie, the person who had served as our year’s Mr. Wonderful. That’s the guy who is not only smart, but also has real athletic ability, and, to make matters worse, is an all-around nice human being. In this case, he had been class president and vice president over three years, excelled at football and academics, served on the student council, and edited our yearbook.

Artie remembered the show

     Artie was in management with New York’s Group Health, Inc., remained a strong presence, and attended as many reunions as he could.

     “I often wondered what happened to you,” he said, smiling. “Remember WHCH? I loved hearing you guys.”

     Jack and I were surprised that anyone was actually listening.

      Later, I asked Artie how he felt about being that special figure in our class, or whether he was even aware of the role he had played.

     Artie nodded and explained “I guess more people remember my name,” he said. “That’s why I try to keep in touch, bring people back. Every time we see a few new people. I feel it’s kind of a responsibility.” He also hadn’t changed.

Before dinner arrived, Jim joined us. Now the reunion was complete. Although Jim wasn’t “officially” part of GBS – he couldn’t be bothered with our absurd initiation rites – we were debate team partners for most of high school, spending countless hours developing arguments and taking on opponents from other schools. You had to be ready to take either side, but we specialized in “going negative.”

     I found the skills I developed more useful than most of my classes. Jim agreed. Chief of the children’s ward at a New York psychiatric hospital, he noted that understanding and responding to arguments was a major help in his work as a mental health manager. Our salutatorian (second in the class), he remained sharp, serious, and sensitive.

     For the next few hours, we reminisced and shared bits of our stories (all of us had children and most had been through at least one divorce). About the only topic that didn’t get covered was religion. When former Catholic school kids gather, it may be one of the only social taboos left.

     At one point, I considered walking up to my freshman English teacher, the one who connected reading with bleeding, and reminding him that I hadn’t plagiarized that book report on Howard Fast’s Spartacus. For some reason, I just identified with the story of a slave revolt. He was there as a special guest and finally looked approachable. But I let it pass. He wasn’t likely to remember and it no longer made a difference.

     Anyway, there were more helpful teachers. Although many were young, a few downright incompetent or even sadistic, and most Holy Cross brothers with limited experience and marginal social skills, some could make learning relevant.

Jack: Brainy BFF

     Jack and I agree that our junior year English teacher was perhaps the best. He had a knack for getting us excited about literature and ideas. My exposure to major intellectual currents through writing papers for him about Jack London, Stephen Crane, Ernest Hemingway, John Dos Passos, the early 20^th century muckrakers, and the luminaries of the “lost generation” truly set the context for my career as a journalist, editor, and teller of stories with some social relevance.

     That one class made the travails of my high school years worth enduring. 

As the party broke up, Jack, Paul and I extended our reunion with drinks at a nearby bar. We talked about Madeline, the object of all our desires, and other young women we had dated. Although no one got much sex in those days, we agreed that they were among our most romantic and exciting. It was all about anticipation, the mystery of what might happen next – the process of being young and horny.

     But that was then, when we were Holy Cross knights and the “sap was running” – as our principal would put it. We had phony IDs, raging hormones, and more attitude than we could handle. Now we had business cards, responsibilities, and great memories that hadn’t faded with time.  All things considered a worthwhile trip. 

Four Knights: Greg, Jack, Paul and John

Originally appeared in Vermont Guardian, 2005

Talking about Racism: From School to City Hall

A superintendent’s contract is extended as local debate deepens: Burlington’s school board has given Superintendent Jeanne Collins two more years, but debate over racism has revealed divergent views about coded language, intimidating behavior, and the continuing need for change.                        Story and videos by Greg Guma

ELL students from Somalia
protest outside BHS.

BURLINGTON, VT – The five hours of discussion leading up to an eventual school board vote to extend the contract of Burlington’s superintendent for two years offers a poignant demonstration of how difficult it can be to openly discuss racial tensions.
     Much of the meeting was consumed with parliamentary matters – whether to hold an executive session, whether discussion either in public or private could include an already completed evaluation of Superintendent Jeanne Collins, repeated requests for legal opinions from school board counsel Joe McNeil, and confusion over whether a motion represented an agenda change or merely a deletion. There was also the impact of Collins’ decision, midway through the evening, to let her contract and evaluation be debated in an open session.
     By midnight very few remarks had been squeezed in about the specific complaints or the underlying problems that have fueled the dispute.

     Robert Appel, executive director of the Vermont Human Rights Commission, pointed to this difficult dynamic in a letter following up with the school board after a particularly intense meeting in May. About one hundred parents, teachers and students had turned out to speak in favor and against the handling of diversity, equity, and harassment by school officials, particularly Superintendent Collins. Some were already urging the board not to renew her contract.

     Appel, who attended and spoke, wrote afterward that he was encouraged to see “white people with power honestly grappling with, and attempting to move the conversation about the school community climate forward.” Conflict and tensions in Burlington could be an opportunity if leaders can “rise to the challenge,” he argued. “This means leaders embracing rather than avoiding the necessary conversations.”

     The problem, however, is a “seemingly circular conversation.” As a result, wrote Appel, “little concrete progress has been accomplished despite this repeated rhetorical commitment to change the culture and close the various identified gaps between white middle-class students and others.”

COGNITIVE DISSONANCE: In May students, parents and teachers brought a strong message to the school board: they were tired of waiting for a serious work to address racism and unequal treatment. Dozens of people addressed the board for more than two hours, many calling for the resignation or replacement of Superintendent  Collins and other members of the administration. Local tension had increased since the release of a new diversity, equity and inclusion plan, its rebuttal by a math teacher, and a protest outside the high school.

^^^

At the June 13 school board meeting that continued a discussion of Collins’ overall performance and contract begun after public testimony the previous evening, one response was to adopt what board Chair Keith Pillsbury called a “more rigorous evaluation process” for the superintendent. Over the next few months, the commissioners agreed, a voluntary ad hoc committee will work with her to develop specific, measurable goals.

     But the meeting stumbled over whether discussion of Collins’ contract should occur in public or executive session.  Without any vote the contract would have automatically continued until June 30, 2014. Ultimately, the board voted 9-5 to reaffirm that agreement.

     One group of board members, including those who later voted to terminate the contract in one year, wanted a private discussion before taking a public vote. Most of those supporting the superintendent opposed the executive session. The result was a tie vote, spelling defeat of the move to exclude the public and press.

     Chairman Pillsbury supported the public route. “People want to know our thinking,” he said. But Board member Meredith King accused him of “managing the story” on behalf of Collins since criticism erupted over the district’s handle of a new Strategic Plan for diversity, equity, and inclusion. “We’ve being sitting here for two months while the issues swirled around us,” she charged, adding that Pillsbury had made it difficult to go into executive session for a frank discussion.

     King was one of several commissioners who felt that the school board has been “put in a corner” by the actions of its administration and the board leadership.  Commissioner Jill Evans called Pillsbury’s handling of the matter “problematic,” and wanted to add that to the executive session agenda.

     Haik Bedrosian and Catherine Chasan were equally adamant in support of Collins. Bedrosian led the successful charge to drop the executive session, attempted to adjourn the meeting before a vote on the contract could be taken, and described non-renewal as “firing” the superintendent. After attempts not to renew and to offer a compromise six-month extension failed, Chasan pushed for the affirmative vote to extend the contract until 2014, although that was not required.

Anti-racism training at City Hall?

Only a handful of observers remained in the cavernous auditorium at Burlington High School by the time the school commissioners voted. But the issues raised by the dispute over school leadership on racism and equity are about to spill over into city government.

     Vince Brennan, the Progressive city councilor who chaired the Diversity and Equity Strategic Plan task force and later became one of the first to call for Collins’ replacement, has joined with Independent Karen Paul and Rachel Siegel, also a Progressive, on a related resolution for the June 25 city council meeting.

     The resolution is still being drafted, and may include proposals concerning the city’s hiring and minority retention policies. In its current form, distributed by Brennan at a recent school board meeting, it already calls for anti-racist training of all city employees, the city council, and more than 100 commissioners. If approved, development of the program would begin this fall, with training that commences no later than next January.

     It also asks the city administration to develop an ad hoc committee by July 16, including experts in anti-racist training, local stakeholders, department representatives and council members, to plan and implement the proposed training program. The draft acknowledges that the cost of such a program is not insignificant, but argues that it “can be a strong beginning to addressing racism, both overt and subtle, in our community.”

A FORUM ON EQUITY: In early April racial disparities turned out to be the main event at the first working session of the City Council after a new mayor took charge. Students of color are 27 percent of the student body in Burlington’s public schools, according to a Task Force report, and more Black students drop out of school. They're less likely to take SAT tests and more likely to be suspended. The report was supposed to set the stage for a strategic plan to address diversity, equity and inclusion. On April 16 School Superintendent Collins and Board Chair Pillsbury outlined the efforts that led to its recommendations. But not everyone was satisfied. Some teachers said they had been excluded, and residents pointed to ongoing racial disparities.

^^^

Democrat David Hartnett, although an unlikely supporter for an anti-racism training resolution, recently made a related point in his regular column for the North Avenue News. Hartnett, who managed Republican Kurt Wright’s campaign for mayor last winter, disagrees with Brennan about how well Burlington’s schools are doing. “While imperfect, the schools are doing a very good job.” But he wrote that “all of Burlington needs to be part of the solution.”

     In the bigger picture, said Hartnett, “this is not just about the schools. As a whole community we need to do better.”

     Wright attended the Tuesday school board meeting and spoke up for Collins. “No one asked me to come,” he noted before arguing that “she is capable of doing what is right” and it would be a “huge mistake not to retain her.”

Lost Trust and Heated Language 

What began last October with an ambitious plan for top-to-bottom educational change -- training for everyone, more people of color and “culturally competent” staff, better leadership and accountability, increased transparency, and a “multicultural mindset” – has turned into a sometimes painful but much broader community debate over the persistence of institutional racism, and even how the problems are discussed.

     At dueling press conferences last week in the run up to the school board’s decision, supporters and critics of the current leadership attempted to define the problem using often stark language.

     Episcopal Bishop Thomas Ely called racism “a deeply rooted disease of the soul,” and suggested that Collins may have experienced a “conversion” since admitting that she was slow to address the problems.

     Rabbi Joshua Chasan, a leading Collins supporter who organized the press event on the back steps of City Hall, took the opportunity to apologize for having previously used the term “bullying” to describe some criticism of the superintendent. However, he argued that he was just responding to the unfair charge that some school board members were racist. Chasen concluded that he should have said “intimidating.”

     Chasan was grateful to the high school students, he said, mainly to the new American students in ELL classes who protested about their treatment and image in April. But he viewed Collins’ “slowness to see the dimensions of the problem,” along with her “capacity to apologize,” in a hopeful context. In background information provided to the media, he went further, predicting “social breakdown” and “communal meltdown” if any move was made to replace her in response to criticisms.

PROTESTING RACISM: On April 19 English language (ELL) students were joined by local activists and parents for a morning protest a few feet from the front door of Burlington High School. The students felt unfairly judged by outdated tests and objected to statistics that they felt correlates poverty with poor academic performance. Despite progress or promises of change in the new strategic plan for diversity, equity and inclusion, they said racism remained a real and persistent problem.

^^^

Two days after religious leaders held a press conference in late May, an ad hoc group met at the Fletcher Library to repeat the call for non-renewal of the contract. Erik Wallenberg said that trust had been “eroded beyond repair as a result of her (Collins’) years of resistance, and demonization of those who raise concerns.” He and others claimed that the school administration was doing the intimidating.

     “She can’t overcome the betrayal,” Wallenberg claimed. “We need transformational leadership.”

     Suzy Comerford, a parent with two children attending local schools, accused the school district of spending money on public relations to frame the issue as “divisive and bullying.” She meanwhile faulted the media for focusing only on racial inequities. The issue is “more than about just race,” Comerford said, “it is about the needs of kids with disabilities, of children from low-income families, and about new American children’s education, whatever their skin color.”

     Education and equity consultant Denise Dunbar, a Hinesberg resident, went after the idea, expressed by some people who have spoken at public meetings, that they are “colorblind” or “don’t see race.” Dunbar called such language “a newer face of liberal denial” and, quoting Angela Davis, suggested that claims of color blindness are “camouflaged racism.”

     At the board’s Tuesday meeting several speakers made a point of saying that they are not colorblind.

     Some in authority are involved in a “cultural war” that upholds the status quo and uses coded language like “civil” and “bully” to define insiders and outsiders, Dunbar charged. She also faulted the religious leaders who met earlier for taking Collins’ side, and for “a demonization of advocates and stakeholders for equity and equality.”

     Such remarks can cut deep. There have also been accusations that both teacher and student voices have been “squelched and discredited.” During the debate some of those who spoke, and a few on the board, expressed concern about the larger effects of what some called “poisonous” or “dangerous” rhetoric. Hartnett has charged that the local debate “is on the verge of being destructive.”

     As the school board’s decision approached last night, however, the appeals became more nuanced. Brennan did not reiterate his call for Collins’ replacement. Instead, he called her recent missteps unfortunate while agreeing that some things have begun to change.

     Rev. Roy Hill, a Collins supporter who is president of the Vermont Ecumenical Council and Bible Society, also struck a tone of reconciliation, while warning against targeting scapegoats.  Others said it simply wasn’t the best time for someone new as superintendent.

     State Rep. Suzy Wizowati, a Diversity Now supporter, concluded that blaming one person for the community’s problems is a mistake, like “expecting one person to change the world.”

Accusations of Intimidation

 In response to mounting criticism Superintendent Collins has released an action plan, based on recommendations in the original Strategic Plan, and has pledged to “eliminate race, ethnicity, class, gender, and sexual orientation as predictors of academic performance, discipline, and co-curricular participation.”

     The steps she has described include strengthening complaint procedures, upgrading professional development, reorganizing administrative staffing to improve the handling of equity issues, improving retention of a more diverse staff, and creating an Equity Climate Team to monitor and follow up on incidents.

     Her critics say that they have heard such promises before and do not believe, based on its past performance, that the current administration is up to the challenges.

     In print and public statements Collins has repeatedly admitted that she missed opportunities, acted too slowly, and has been bureaucratic rather than heart-centered in her response. Beyond taking the steps outlined recently and refocusing her efforts, possibly under increased school board scrutiny, she therefore plans to spend more time actually interacting with students and teachers in the schools.

     But as Appel’s May 10 letter to the board suggests, while frank discussions and rhetorical commitment are hopeful signs they have happened before and leave some issues unacknowledged.  He argued, for example, that existing resources are not being smartly deployed, specifically asking why Diversity Director Dan Balon “appears to be being kept on the sidelines.”

     Confirming suspicions that some school administrators do not adhere to the superintendent’s zero tolerance standard, Appel also reported from “multiple credible sources” that Vice Principal Nick Molander tried to intimidate speakers after the May public forum.  According to Appel’s sources, Molander sought out several people of color and “in a confrontational manner informed them, in so many words, that their perspectives were not valid.  The perception of those who received this message from Mr. Molander was that he was attempting to intimidate them.”

     Appel informed the board bluntly that an administrator who does that “should not be in a school setting, and should have his licensure investigated.” If Molander behaves like this with adults, he added, “just imagine how overbearing and abuse he may well be one-on-one with a student of color in an unsupervised context.”

     Denying itself the option of an executive session to discuss personnel, evaluation and contract matters the school board did not get near this level of scrutiny in dealing with Collins responsibilities and contract. There were only indirect references to the difficulties of supervisory oversight and how to define board and management responsibilities.

     School board members meanwhile emphasized that equity issues were not the only matters bring addressed, in general or in relation to Collins’ tenure. As Jill Evans, one of several commissioners on the losing side of Wednesday’s votes, put it in a local newspaper column, the school board “is not exclusively concerned with race in its decision.” But the district does need “a visionary leader who can be proactive and take risks.”

SUPERINTENDENT UNDER FIRE: After months of criticism, Burlington School Superintendent Jeanne Collins responded to charges she had ignored racism with new plans to move forward. But questions at a June 1 press conference centered on what went wrong and whether the School Board would extend her contract. Collins talked about bringing more of her heart into addressing harassment and racism, and Board Chair Keith Pillsbury was pressed about whether she is the right person to lead in the future. Two weeks later Collins received a contract extension.

HIGH VOLUME: Race, Education and the F-35s

Scenes of informed dissent

     Turnout has been high and dialogue heated at public meetings held lately in Burlington and environs. On a recent Monday, for instance, dozens of people both in favor and opposed to a proposed health access buffer zone at Burlington reproductive health care centers brought their arguments and deeply held beliefs to the City Council. On the same night dozens more Vermonters showed up nearby in South Burlington just to watch the City Council, in a 4-1 vote, reject a plan to base F-35 fighter jets at the airport. I missed that, but I was was there a week earlier…

     Noises Up… It was the most dramatic local showdown thus far this season. More than 300 people gathered at the high school in South Burlington for an Air Force public hearing on the environmental impacts of the multi-purpose F-35A, the military’s most expensive pet project yet. It was civil -- but intense -- as Vermonters talked passionately about military pride, damaged neighborhoods endangered jobs and rising noise for over two hours. 
     The lighting was spooky. But the testimony – a dozen people appear in the scene above – was often compelling.

     More than 100 residents showed up at Burlington High School a few days before that to speak their minds about racial inequality and harassment in the schools. Some were calling for Superintendent of Schools Jeanne Collins to resign. 
     Tension had increased since the release of a diversity, equity and inclusion plan, its rebuttal by a math teacher, and protests outside the high school. This scene captures several statements, plus a confrontational moment involving one leading Somali student. Collins has issued a public apology but says she does not intend to step down.

     From my place it’s a short walk up the hill to UVM….

     Part of my job for VTDigger is to cover some of the region's large institutions. The University of Vermont certainly qualifies. More than 10,000 students and half a billion annually in expenses and revenues. 
     “You can see the analogy with the banking industry,” lamented John Bramley at one point during the recent Trustees meeting. What he meant was that large institutions have economic advantages, and also that a university education could again “become the preserve of the wealthy and the privileged. Temporarily promoted last year after the tumultuous departure of President Dan Fogel, he delivered the news forcefully in final remarks before the arrival of a new president, lawyer and former University of Minnesota Provost Tom Sullivan. 

     Bramley sounded like he was borrowing from the Occupy movement. In this scene Provost Jane Knodell also defends the university's strategic plan. It ends with a brief look at financial aid that might not put you to sleep. 
     For more details check my articles on UVM, race in Burlington and the F-35 debate at VTDigger. But now some drumming and few last words....

     Yes, there's a lot going on. But that's no excuse to neglect the Maverick Chronicles. Hope you enjoy these scenes. On the other hand, sometimes you have to just kick back, watch and listen. So, I’ll end this installment with a rhythmic take on opening day at the Farmers’ Market in City Hall Park. It was lovely and the dancers were terrific. If you’ve come this far and especially if you sampled the earlier scenes, don’t skip the climax. It's worth it. 
     Dissent without music, food and laughter would not be worth all the trouble. Just saying... 

Diversity Plan Spotlights Race Debate

As most students went to classes at Burlington High School on Thursday morning about 40 students, most of them English language learners (ELL) from Somalia, gathered at the school's entrance for a surprise protest.

     Angered after seeing a newspaper article posted on a school bulletin board that described them as “statistical outliers” who lagged behind, they overcame embarrassment and delivered their message with youthful energy and creativity. They feel unfairly judged by outdated tests and object to statistical analysis that correlates poverty with poor academic performance.

     They also made it loud and clear that, despite any progress or the promises of change ahead, racism remains a real and persistent problem in local schools.

     Their goal, chanted while marching around school property, was to “end racism at BHS.”

^^^

     When the findings of the Diversity and Equity Task Force established by the Burlington School District were released last October Vince Brennan was almost as optimistic.

     As Task Force Chairperson and a Progressive member of the City Council he saw in the year-long effort the “noble ideal of building a better future.” Six months later what he sees instead is “fear and a loss of hope for change.

     Last Monday, during the city council’s first working session with the new Weinberger administration, he had some strong words for BSD Superintendent Jeanne Collins after a report was delivered by school officials on the new strategic plan for diversity, equity and inclusion.

     In a commentary submitted to the Burlington Free Press in late March – but not published – Brennan questioned whether Collins was “really being true to her words about free speech or is picking and choosing who to silence.”

Councilor Vince Brennan

     The school system needs “new leadership,” Brennan concluded. He was calling for the superintendent’s replacement because she had declined to intervene after Math teacher David Rome issued a pointed refutation of the report’s findings.

     Brennan’s commentary was written in response to a Burlington Free Press op-ed that said he was wrong to criticize Collins for not speaking out about Rome’s rebuttal. The teacher’s questioning of statistics and conclusions cited as the basis for the school system’s strategic plan undermined the report’s initial public reception and has raised fresh questions about racism in the schools.

     Brennan insists he does not want to silence Rome, despite suggestions in the press that it is a free speech issue. But he does think that “not participating with the Task Force while it was assembled and then condemning the whole process after it was accepted is exercising what researchers call ‘privilege’ based on race.” 

Disparities and disagreements

Schools in Burlington are considerably more diverse than most in Vermont.  Students of color—Asian, Black, Latino, Native American and Multiracial—make up 27 percent of student body, according to school district figures. About 15 percent are English language learners from other countries. Over 60 languages and dialects are spoken by their families. Statewide, the ELL population has more than doubled in the last ten years.

     Minorities will be more than 50 percent of the US population by 2042. Although the white community may be able to maintain the status quo, the report argues, doing so will create “an inhospitable climate for students and families of color and will severely limit the potential of all our students to succeed in a rapidly changing environment.”

     With these and other trends in mind the Task Force attempts to make the case for rapid change with a portrait comprised of “statistically measured facts” about the local system.  The report states, for example, that the dropout rate for African American students is measurably higher, that “students who are eligible for free and reduced lunch” are 25 percent less likely to graduate, and that “there is nearly a one in five chance that an otherwise qualified student of color did not take the SAT or ACT exam.”

     It also notes that minority students “are extremely over-represented (60%) in being punished through out-of-school suspensions,” and although students of color make up 27 percent of the student body, they represent only 13 percent of those passing Algebra 1.

     The strategic plan that has emerged from this analysis involves top-to-bottom change in educational policies. That includes ongoing training and professional development for all employees, hiring more people of color along with “culturally competent” staff, leadership and accountability by the school board and administration, increased transparency, and incorporation of a “multicultural mindset” into curriculum, hiring and other policies that “values cultural pluralism and affirms students from all backgrounds.”

     In a section on what needs to be done during the next year to change the local climate, the primary objective is to “infuse the district with the message that the social and educational climate in our schools requires urgent attention to erase many negative stereotypes, subtle and overt behaviors, assumptions, and decisions that favor conventional, white upper middle class Judeo-Christian values and beliefs.”

     Rome’s response focuses mainly on statistics he has found inaccurate, but he also calls the report’s references to Judeo-Christian culture inflammatory and divisive. “The use of this phrase is truly an insult to the professionals who work with individuals at BHS to make the school as inclusive and welcoming to as many students as possible,” he writes. At least one other teacher has publicly agreed with him.

     Rome’s central argument is that factual errors in the report have produced “false conclusions leading to a reaction by the Board and community members that the school system is badly flawed and in need of drastic repair when, in fact, it is doing a remarkably fair and equitable job.”

     The Task Force cites a 5 percent dropout gap between African American and White students, but Rome notes that only one African American dropped out of the senior class last year. He adds that it is unfair to expect newcomers to the country to graduate within four years. On math performance he argues the figures actually indicate improved course completion for students of color. He also disputes suspension statistics cited in the report.

     Sara Martinez De Osaba, director of the Vermont Multicultural Alliance for Democracy, sees such criticisms as an attempt to “negate that there are disparities.” Like Brennan she describes Rome’s critique as an example of “white privilege.”

Developing the new roadmap

The process that led to the new plan began in 2008 with an attempt by the board to define diversity. “We are a community of many cultures, faiths, abilities, family constellations and incomes, birthplaces and aspirations,” said the resulting statement. “The depth and richness of this diversity is our strength when we work toward a common goal.”

     The Task Force on Equity and Diversity was created two years later, and initially grappled with the hiring of a new principal for the Integrated Arts Academy. Since the district “faced extensive needs in recruitment and hiring of teachers and staff of color,” it focused in the early months on human resource questions. A Town Hall meeting and three other community input events helped to inform the work.

     After the report was completed and accepted by the school board last fall a town hall-style gathering was staged in February to present the findings and strategy. About 120 people attended. By then Rome had released his rebuttal and the local mood gradually turned less hopeful.

     According to the Task Force “troubling educational disparities exist in Burlington along race and socioeconomic status. They represent an ‘opportunity gap’ as well as a shortfall in the overall number of high school graduates and potential college grads.” The situation produces “inequalities of all kinds which in turn have multiple long-term effects.”

     BSD’s plan describes broad-ranging changes in leadership, human resources, climate and curriculum. Within the next year, for example, one objective is system-wide staff training aimed at creating an “anti-racist and culturally responsive curriculum to support all students.” The idea is to have teachers “consistently reference the multicultural nature of their teaching tools, noting the contributions and accomplishments of distinguished individuals from a variety of cultural, racial, ethnic, and linguistic backgrounds. “

      One example in the plan discusses teaching about westward US expansion. Rather than focusing on the perspective of hunters, pioneers, the beginning of the industrial age and the harnessing of natural resources, the report suggests that curriculum should look at the impacts on different groups and cultures, as well as the role of various institutions “in achieving specific outcomes.”

     Curriculum activities during the first year are expected to include an online resource guide for teachers; workshops and use of diversity coaches; advisory groups at each school; an Interdisciplinary Curriculum Guidebook that presents “the rationale for using an anti-racist, culturally responsive and socially just method of inquiry;” and development of working definitions for key terms like “anti-racist,” “culturally responsive,” and “social justice.”

     To jump-start that process the report includes a six-page glossary of terms. Defining “anti-racist education” it notes that racism is not only manifested in individual acts of bigotry but also in policies like “failure to hire people of color at all levels and the omission of anti-racist regulations in faculty and student handbooks.”

     Cultural competence involves “being aware of one’s own assumptions” and “understanding the worldview of culturally diverse and marginalized populations,” the report explains.

     Two key concepts are “institutionalized racism” and “privilege,” both of which came up during the city council’s review of the plan.

     The glossary explains that “institutionalized racism” is seen in “processes, attitudes and behavior which totals up to discrimination through unwitting prejudice, ignorance, thoughtlessness, and racist stereotyping which disadvantages people from ethnic minorities.”

     “Do you believe while privilege exists?” Brennan asked Collins during an extended question period during the council meeting. Absolutely yes, she answered. Ward 1 Democrat Ed Adrian agreed.

     But Ward 7 Republican Paul Decelles was troubled by the question and asked, “Could you explain what you mean by that comment you just made.” He didn’t get a direct response but the report includes a definition.

     White privilege, it says, “helps explain how white people – relative to people of color and who do not present as part of the white racial group – and despite their intentions, are ‘advantaged’ to access and opportunities over people of color and those who do not appear to be in the white racial group.”

Voicing frustration and dissent  

Faulty research and conclusions by the task force are pointing Burlington in the wrong direction to address the real problems, Rome argues. “Hiring teachers of color has little, if any, correlation to student performance, but hiring competent teachers, regardless of color, does."

     He also suggests that the district should focus on “improving the economic situation of lower socio-economic families and educating them about the link between academic success and their future.”

     Beyond questioning the statistics used as a rationale Rome also finds fault with the report for failing to mention areas of local success, a list on which he includes a higher rate of students of all colors going to college than the state average, a knowledgeable staff with  “a great amount of diversity and cultural experiences,” student resources like the Homework Center and Shades of Ebony, and “the conscious choice that most staff members make to work at BHS precisely because of the diverse student population and the high level of professionalism of the staff.”

     Rome also claims that both teachers and students were excluded from the task force report committee. “At no time were teachers interviewed or questioned for their expertise about the veracity of the comments made at the meetings or discussions in an effort to get their input for further discussion,” he charges. As a result the report’s release was “a blow to morale” that he claims has upset many teachers.

     As evidenced by the Thursday protest many ELL students at the high school are also frustrated and upset.  According to De Osaba, who put out a call to local activists to show up in support, students are offended by the suggestion that they are “statistical outliers.”  The term does not appear in Rome’s report, but she says that he has used the term in a hand out. Others claim that he has brought up the dispute in class.

     Like teachers who feel their efforts have been undervalued, students attending the protest were angry and disappointed by the sense they are being blamed for the school’s problems. The ELL curriculum used at the high school is outdated, they charge, and they don’t want to be judged on the basis of unfair testing.

     “BSD has been beleaguered with racism issues since the '80's,” De Osaba contends. She adds that tensions are increasing because many steps identified years ago by the school system have not been taken. “None of this is the fault of the African ELL students. They are not running the schools. 

     UVM faculty member Denise Dunbar, who also attended the protest, points to the emotional toll of social isolation and humiliation faced by students attempting to learn English and adjust to a new society. Some statistics in the plan may be off, she acknowledges, but the problems should not be minimized and cannot always be measured.

     Collins sees things similarly. There is room for debate about the math, she admits. But despite some suggestions that the report should be rescinded she continues to think the conclusions and strategies are on target.

     That position hasn’t been sufficient for Brennan or others who believe that failing to respond to criticism by Rome has undermined what the district is trying to accomplish and should be grounds for administrative change. De Osaba goes farther, charging that the administration condones the Rome’s report by not taking steps to refute or stop him.

     Collins insists that a greater concern is “silencing any voice in this important conversation.”