What I Meant (and Didn’t Mean) About Wealth and School Ratings

Each year, when Ohio’s School Report Cards are released, the reporter from Cleveland.com reaches out to local superintendents for comment. Traditionally, those in my position — myself included — have emphasized that students are more than test scores. Our local reporter knows my feelings on this topic, and over the years my responses have ranged from a simple “our students are more than test scores” to more pointed remarks.

Recently, what I intended as a sarcastic, tongue-in-cheek comment was misunderstood, and I want to clarify. In the Cleveland.com piece, I said:

“Our district needs to attract more wealthy parents and residents… so that we can score higher.”

This was meant to be a critique of Ohio’s accountability system, which often rewards wealth rather than reflecting the true quality of a school district. When sarcasm doesn’t land, it can hurt. I’ve since learned that some in our community — especially those who don’t consider themselves “wealthy” — felt slighted by my words. That was never my intention. Those who know me personally understand this, but I want to be clear with everyone.

I grew up in Sheffield Lake, Ohio, with my two brothers and our mom. We lived in a very small, 900-square-foot house on Howell Street that no longer exists — and probably should have been condemned even back then. My mom worked as a clerk for the Lorain Court System, earning about $20,000 in 1980, and did the best she could. We lived on government assistance: free school lunches, food stamps, and sometimes free kerosene to heat the house in winter. Our home had no foundation, no garage, no paved driveway — just gravel. In the coldest months, my mom would turn on the oven in the mornings to warm the kitchen. When our pipes froze (often), my uncle, a welder, would come with a blowtorch to thaw them. Once, a family of skunks moved in under our house. I can still remember going back to college with the faint smell on my clothes. The same happened to my brothers. We never revealed the source of the smell to our classmates.

I don’t share this for pity. I share it because it’s my story. It shaped who I am and the people I advocate for. If anyone felt hurt or looked down upon because of my words, I sincerely apologize. As the grandson of a Pennsylvania coal miner and an autoworker — neither of whom made it past middle school but who were remarkable, hard-working people — I deeply understand the pride in doing the best you can with what you have.

My comment about attracting wealth was not about diminishing anyone’s worth. It was meant to highlight the unfairness of Ohio’s current accountability system: one that often equates financial means with educational success. Districts in wealthier areas “outperform” because of socioeconomic advantages, not necessarily because they serve students better. Cleveland.com reporter Rich Exner has illustrated this issue well in this article.

For more than a decade, I’ve fought for a fairer, more accurate way to measure school quality. That passion can sometimes sound edgy or even frustrated, but it comes from wanting kids and communities to get honest, meaningful information. Here in our district, we’ve been working hard to build a better accountability model. If you live in our community, I encourage you to read Our Story to understand what we’re trying to do — and to help us create a more truthful and equitable way to talk about the great things happening in all public schools. In Olmsted Falls we embrace truthful accountability and believe that there are far better ways to demonstrate what we’re doing and how we’re doing it as a way to build trust. Please take a look at what we’ve built (here) and let us know what you think.

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