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| The Dade County Board of Education was distressed that taxpayers felt it wasn’t hearing their voices. Thus it hired an Atlanta PR firm to reshape and refine its message (STFU!) to something that cost a bit more. |
By
Robin Ford Wallace
“What
qualities are important in a prospective superintendent of schools for Dade
County?” asked the moderator, Brighton Perky of Perky PR and Market
Research.
“Well,
I believe he – or she, of course – should be an able administrator, but also a
reasonably well-educated person,” one middle-aged woman spoke up timidly. “Of course we know it’s the superintendent’s
job to manage the system efficiently, but this time, in choosing a leader, we
should remember that the main reason for schools is learning. Imparting knowledge --"
“Ma’am?”
interrupted Perky. “I
wasn’t talking to you. I was just reading from the questionnaire."
“But
…”
“You can sit down now.”
“You can sit down now.”
It
was Monday evening, and a group of parents, teachers and community leaders had
gathered at the Dade County Board of Education offices on Tradition Lane. Taxpayers had expressed frustration at the
botched rollout of an online survey on the school system’s website that
appeared to solicit their input on choosing a new superintendent, but which
many had found impossible to open until March 20, when an online message
informed them it had closed on March 19.
The survey
actually did time out on March 21, by which time a pack of ravening would-be
input-givers had encircled the B of E offices, snouts raised heavenward and
fangs dripping, opining brokenly at the moon.
Furthermore,
even when taxpayers were able to access the survey, many had found registration
requirements intrusive. Rather than
offering an opportunity for anonymous input, it required a participant’s name,
email address and position in the community.
“May we contact your present employer?” it asked. And:
“Are you the parent of a child in the system we may harass mercilessly
in retribution until graduation or dropout date? Please supply name, grade and known allergies. Bwah-hah.”
The B of E is
paying Brighton Perky & Crew $400,000 to conduct these focus group
sessions, Perky told The Turnip as participants furrowed their brows over
questionnaires they had been asked to fill out.
“A new
superintendent should be (a) handsome, (b) smart, (c) honest, (d) a good
kisser,” read one sample question.
“Check all that apply.”
“It’s a quiz we
copied from a women’s magazine,” confessed Perky. “ ‘Looking For Mr. Right,’ it’s called. We could have gotten a new questionnaire designed just for this
purpose, but why pay extra? This
is Dade County. Nobody cares about the writing.”
“Anyway,” he
continued. “The Board of Education is springing
for the focus sessions because it’s distressed that the taxpayers feel their
voices are not being heard. That notion
has recurred like herpes ever since three packed public hearings in July 2011,
when board members sat so still people speculated they had died the night
before. The one exception was the
chairwoman, who came out of her trance long enough to read written rules
forbidding the board to respond to the public in any way, including blinks,
farts or throat clearings.
“And sure
enough, the board didn’t twitch an eyelash,” Perky went on. “Quite a feat considering that the room was
filled with teenaged girls who cried, education veterans who gave stirring
speeches and angry old ladies who brandished their canes menacingly. One audience member held a mirror to a board
member’s mouth. Another stuck board
members with straight pins.
Nothing. There was talk of a
mass burial.
“But at the
end, one board member came to life long enough to explain to the local press
that all budget decisions had already been finalized, and the public hearings
had simply been a formality necessitated by state law when the millage rate was
raised.
“Those who
enjoy funerals were not disappointed, though, because the issue the public was
so het up about was the B of E’s decision to murder the local public library,
and the next day the then-superintendent accordingly had it whacked.”
One of the men
seated at the focus group table raised his hand. “Mr. Perky?” he said.
“What I think we need is somebody local. Somebody who understands the Dade community and knows the Dade
people.”
“Button it up,
little man,” said Perky. “Can’t you see
I’m talking to The Turnip?”
“But I thought
the point of a focus group was to let us talk about what we
think,” the man protested.
“The purpose of
a focus group,” said Perky, “is to collect 400,000 easy clams for my PR company. You think anybody in Atlanta gives a crap
what you hicks out in Hickville have in your hicky little heads? Now sit down or I’m calling security.”
“But …”
A large,
vaguely Italian-looking person, wearing trench coat, fedora and mirror shades, hulked
up from the sidelines, placed a large, meatlike hand on the man’s shoulder, and
leaned.
The man sat
down.
Perky
laughed. “Gotta love these Dade County
hayseeds,” he told The Turnip. “Just
because 75 cents of their property tax dollar goes to the B of E, they think
they have the right to hitch their thumbs behind their overall straps and
deliver opinions on how to spend it.”
“They, er,
don’t?” asked The Turnip.
“Hell no,” said
Perky. “If the school board wanted
public input they wouldn’t make all major decisions behind closed doors in
executive session. Why would they have
gone to the trouble and expense of running for the board unless they get the
right to dole out contracts to their brother-in-law and award jobs to the
football coach’s wife’s best friend?”
He
snorted. “Anyway, they’ve got to get
while the getting’s good. Public
education is on the way out. The
Georgia legislature is working hard to convince the electorate that teaching
the poor to read is a commie idea to begin with. The only reason the boys in the House put up with education at
all is it’s such a golden opportunity to channel taxpayer money to their buds
in the business sector.”
“But why hold
the focus groups?” asked The Turnip.
“For the same
reason as the survey: To make it look
like they’re paying attention,” said Perky.
“But you think the school board really wants public scrutiny of their
hiring decisions? After some of the
wingnuts and Froot Loops they’ve paid top dollar for? It would be like you asking if those jeans make your butt look
fat.”
A man at the
end of the table cleared his throat. “I
think …
Three armed goons materialized from the shadows, wrestled him to the floor and began slamming his head against the tiles. “Shut the f—k up!” they screamed.
Three armed goons materialized from the shadows, wrestled him to the floor and began slamming his head against the tiles. “Shut the f—k up!” they screamed.
The Turnip
retreated, pale, shaken and gazing worriedly at the reflection of its butt
in the glass doors.
In time, though, The Turnip collected itself
enough to contact the board of education for input for this story. Board Chairwoman Carolyn Bradford did not
address the specific issue but made the B of E’s standard response:
She dived
behind a potted fern.
robinfordwallace@tvn.net
