By Dr. Delarious O. Stewart
Associate Professor and Director, School Counseling Program
Mississippi Christian University
There is something different about watching a difficult school decision happen at home.
For me, home is Washington Parish. So, when I learned about the decision involving Mt. Hermon School, I understood almost immediately why emotions were running so high.
In a place like Washington Parish, a school is rarely just a school.
It is where somebody's mother graduated. Where a grandfather played ball. Where a favorite teacher taught generations of the same family. It is Friday nights, school programs, friendships, trophies, class pictures and memories that become part of a family's story. In a small community, a school can become part of the community's identity.
I know that because Washington Parish helped raise me, too. I graduated from Franklinton High School in 1990. The names and places may be different, but I understand what it means to have a school woven into your sense of home.
So, I understand why people are hurting over the Mt. Hermon School decision.
I understand the parent who wonders whether his or her child will receive the same attention in a larger school. I understand the students who do not want to leave friends and teachers. I understand the graduate who sees something that has been part of the community for generations changing and asks, "Why does it have to be us?"
Those feelings are real.
And I think we make a mistake when we respond to them only with numbers.
You cannot answer someone's memories with a spreadsheet. You cannot tell a community not to grieve because the math says a decision makes sense.
But there is another side to this story, and I understand that side, too.
For the past 25 years, I have worked in education, from direct service with children and families to senior district leadership, policy and now the university. I have also helped develop school merger and closure plans, led community meetings about them and presented recommendations to Boards of Education.
Those experiences taught me something I did not understand when I was a student at Franklinton High School.
There are decisions in public education where everybody in the room can be telling the truth.
A parent can be right that her child is thriving at a small school. A teacher can be right that something special has been created there. An alumnus can be right that the school is central to the identity of the community.
And district leaders can still have an obligation to ask whether the current arrangement can be sustained.
Those truths do not cancel one another.
That is what makes decisions like this so painful.
Superintendent Jennifer Thomas and the Washington Parish School Board have had to look at something larger than one building. They have had to consider enrollment, staffing, finances, transportation, facilities, academic opportunities and what the district can realistically sustain over time.
Most of us get to approach this issue from the place we care about most. Parents begin with their children. Alumni begin with their school. Communities begin with what they stand to lose.
A superintendent has to begin with all of them.
Every school. Every community. Every child.
That is an enormous responsibility.
But recognizing that responsibility does not require dismissing those who disagree.
People asking about class sizes, transportation, extracurricular activities, relationships and whether students will feel lost in a larger environment are asking fair questions. Those questions should help shape what happens next.
And if members of the community have a sustainable alternative that district leaders have not considered, bring it forward. Bring the idea but also bring the plan. Show how it can be staffed, financed and sustained over time while providing children the opportunities they deserve.
There comes a point, however, when leadership requires a decision.
Then the question changes from "Should we do this?" to "How do we take care of people while we do it?"
That is where I hope Washington Parish will distinguish itself.
Do not simply reassign these children.
Receive them.
Make sure they know they belong.
Prepare the receiving schools. Watch class sizes. Get transportation right. Protect access to athletics, clubs and other activities. Make sure students have greater academic opportunities, not fewer.
And pay attention to the child who may never tell an adult that the transition is hard.
Children do not experience school consolidation as an organizational chart. They experience it as leaving the teacher who knew when something was wrong. Leaving friends. Getting on a different bus. Walking into a cafeteria and wondering where to sit.
Adults make the decision.
Children live it.
That is why the quality of the transition matters every bit as much as the quality of the decision.
Washington Parish should also honor Mt. Hermon. Changing a school's configuration should not mean erasing its history. Preserve the photographs, trophies, traditions and stories. Let the community grieve what is changing without treating that grief as resistance to progress.
There has also been considerable conversation about money. I understand the discomfort with that. When children are involved, talking about dollars can sound cold.
But money and children cannot be separated so easily.
A district budget becomes teachers, buses, counselors, special education services, technology, athletics, academic programs, interventions and opportunities.
The question is not whether money matters more than children.
The question is how we use the resources we have to serve children well.
Now, Washington Parish has an obligation to demonstrate that this decision serves the students affected by it.
Are they learning? Are they attending? Are they participating? Do they belong? Are they receiving greater opportunities? And when something is not working, does the district respond?
That is what matters now.
My own journey probably explains why I see this moment from several directions.
I left Franklinton High School and began my career in journalism. Journalism taught me to ask questions, listen and look beyond the first version of a story. That work eventually took me to Capitol Hill, where I learned that policy decisions made in meeting rooms eventually land in communities, schools, families and the lives of children.
Then came 25 years in education.
I have worked directly with children and families, served as a psychologist and counselor, and worked in senior district leadership. Today, from the university, I teach, research and write about many of the same systems I once had responsibility for leading.
Those experiences have taught me to look at a moment like this from more than one place.
The journalist in me wants the questions asked. The policy person in me thinks about consequences. The practitioner sees the individual child. The former district leader understands responsibility for the entire system. And the scholar wants us to pay attention to what happens next.
Perhaps that is why I can understand the people who are hurting while also understanding the people who had to decide.
You can love a school and still ask whether its current structure can be sustained.
You can care deeply about children and still talk seriously about money.
You can understand a district's decision while still expecting its leaders to listen to people who disagree.
And you can believe change is necessary while grieving what is being lost.
All of that complexity brings me back to something simple.
The building is not the mission.
The budget is not the mission.
The Board is not the mission.
The child is.
Now comes the harder part.
Make this decision worthy of the disruption it causes.
If children are being asked to leave something familiar, make certain what awaits them expands their opportunities. If families are asked to trust that their children will be better served, show them. Watch the data but also watch the children. Listen to their parents and teachers. And if something is not working, change it.
Thirty-six years ago, I was one of those Washington Parish children.
I walked out of Franklinton High School without knowing where life would take me. Washington Parish gave me a foundation strong enough to step into a world much larger than the one I could see from home.
Every child sitting in a Washington Parish classroom today deserves that same possibility.
So as Superintendent Thomas, the Washington Parish School Board, educators, families and communities move through what comes next, honor what is being lost. Listen to the people who are hurting. Receive these children well. Watch what happens to them. And keep asking whether this is working for them.
Above everything else, keep your eyes on the thing that matters most.
The children.
Their opportunities. Their belonging. Their futures.
That is the promise public education makes.
And that is the promise Washington Parish must now keep.
