State Senator Tina Bojanowski, teacher and legislator (@TinaforKentucky), tweeted:
KY House passes HB2, a bill to change our Constitution to allow vouchers and charters by creating an amendment that allows future legislation to disregard SEVEN sections of our Constitution.
@kyhousedems
A judge in Kentucky ruled that the law funding charter schools violated the state constitution, holding that the state cannot send public dollars to privately-operated schools. In effect, he ruled that charter schools are not public schools.
The Lexington Herald Leader reported:
Franklin Circuit Judge Phillip Shepherd issued an order Monday finding that House Bill 9, which set up a funding mechanism for charter schools in the state, violated the Kentucky Constitution.
Charter schools – schools that are publicly funded but operated by independent groups with fewer regulations than most public schools – are technically legal in Kentucky, but HB 9 would have created a mechanism for funding them with public dollars.
Shepherd said that while there is vigorous debate on the merits of charter schools, the bill violated the plain language of the constitution, which includes a requirement for “an efficient system of common schools” and that tax dollars can’t be used to support non-public education.
“The central question in this constitutional analysis is whether the privately owned and operated ‘charter schools,’ which are established by this legislation, should be considered ‘common schools’ or ‘public schools’ within the meaning of Sections 183, 184 and 186 of the Kentucky Constitution? A review of the case law, and the plain language of the Kentucky Constitution itself, yields the inescapable conclusion that ‘charter schools’ are not ‘public schools’ or ‘common schools’ within the meaning of our state’s 1891 Constitution,” Shepherd wrote.
The bill also would have mandated the creation of two pilot charter schools, one in Louisville and another in Northern Kentucky…
HB 9 passed out of the GOP-led legislature, but faced a rocky path as many rural Republicans teamed up with Democrats to oppose the legislation. In several rural Kentucky counties, public schools are the largest employer and non-public schooling options are scant.
The ruling comes as statehouse Republicans are mulling a constitutional amendment, which would need to be passed by the legislature and then approved by Kentucky voters on the ballot, to allow for tax dollars to be used to support non-public education. The Kentucky Supreme Court earlier this year affirmed a Franklin Circuit Court ruling against a “school choice” law setting up a tax credit-funded scholarship system for students to attend private schools.
Shepherd referenced the conclusion of that case in his order against House Bill 9.
“There is no way to uphold the expenditure of tax dollars for charter schools under the provisions of HB 9 without doing violence to this recent ruling of the Kentucky Supreme Court. HB 9 erects an elaborate structure of mandated public authorization for schools with private ownership and control, and little meaningful public oversight… The substance of what this statute does is to establish taxpayer funded private schools that are exempt from the laws and regulations of the system of common schools established by our Ky. Constitution and laws,” Shepherd wrote.
The suit against the law was led by Council for Better Education, a pro-public education group in Kentucky.
Writing in The Daily Yonder, which covers the rural South, Skylar Baker-Jordan writes about Governor Andy Beshear’s selection of Silas House as the state’s poet laureate and about his own painful childhood in Kentucky.
Kentucky is usually a red state, but Governor Beshear is a popular Democrat. While the Republican-dominated legislature has passed bills that are anti-gay, Governor Beshear boldly selected House, an openly gay man, for the prestigious honor. Republicans are furious because House, a highly regarded author, insulted them with a tweet.
Baker-Jordan writes:
After Kentucky Governor Andy Beshear announced Silas House as the new poet laureate of Kentucky, there has been a significant backlash against his appointment from Republicans who claim that House “hates” Kentucky.
The Republican Governors Association called him a “radical” who thinks most Kentuckians are “bigots.” Meanwhile, a gay Republican activist wrote in the Louisville Courier-Journal that he has “no respect for Mr. House, nor should Republican Kentuckians,” arguing that it was Mr. House (as opposed to his own party, which recently passed a slate of anti-LGBTQ laws) which is standing in the way of LGBTQ rights. That’s because House once dared to tell Trump voters to “kiss [his] gay country ass” in a tweet.
I can understand Silas House’s sentiment. Sometimes, to paraphrase my friend and fellow Appalachian Neema Avashia, it is very hard to love a place that does not always love you back. Just like me, Silas House is from Leslie County, Kentucky. He loves his home state, but his home state does not always love him back.
On the one hand, Kentucky truly is the “land of milk and honey” early white settlers described: Verdant forests atop rugged mountains giving way to rolling hills of the richest soil that in turn become the most beautiful wetlands as the muddy waters of the Ohio meander ever closer to the Mississippi. There is hardly an inch of that commonwealth, a name which doubles as a promise, I haven’t tread upon.
Kentucky’s hollows raised me. Its rivers saved me. Its backroads take me home, for better or for worse.
For there is another side to Kentucky. As the only openly gay student in my high school at the dawn of the 21st century, I suffered what I have often described as “a daily crucible of homophobia.” Slurs were hurled, threats were made, and hellfire was preached – all before the morning bell had tolled.
You might be tempted to tell someone to kiss your gay country ass, too. Indeed, if that is the worst thing you say to them, no less than Job would be impressed.
As you drive into Leslie County, you see signs bragging about the accomplished individuals who have called that hidden corner of southeastern Kentucky home: Tim Couch, who played in the NFL; the Osborne Brothers, legendary bluegrass performers; a Miss Basketball from the last century; and, of course, Mary Breckinridge, who revolutionized nurse-midwifery. I often joke that they will never put up a sign claiming me as one of their own. It’s just that – a joke – but it is tinged with a painful truth: no matter how much I accomplish, Leslie County will never claim me.
I know this because they do not claim Silas House. There is no sign proudly proclaiming the county as home of the acclaimed award-winning novelist, even though he has based at least one of his books in a fictionalized version of the county. House is one of the most accomplished sons of Leslie County, but because he does not fit the narrow definition of acceptability, he goes unacknowledged. His name is verboten. Other names, though, are immortalized on a green highway sign.
Perhaps this will change now that he is the commonwealth’s poet laureate. I hope so. House reminds me of the best of Kentucky, of all the reasons why despite the pain it has caused me, I long to move back. He reminds me of Johnny Cummings, who as the first openly gay mayor of Vicco, Kentucky, ushered through a fairness ordinance to protect LGBTQ people from discrimination. He reminds me of Georgia Davis Powers, who defied racism and misogyny to become the first Black woman in the state senate. He reminds me of Loretta Lynn, who clawed her way from poverty to the top of the music charts. He reminds me of all of the countless kindhearted and decent people I have met in every corner of the commonwealth who do believe that I belong, who understand that “y’all” means all, and who work every single day to make sure the rest of the commonwealth understands that too.
Please open the link and read the rest of the article.
Then go to Amazon and look for books by Silas House. You might be tempted to buy one.
I haven’t been to the Metropolitan Opera in years, due to the pandemic. In the past, I went once or twice a year. It’s a great treat.
In early January, Mary and I took our 16-year-old grandson to see Aida. He had never seen an opera. What a thrill for him and us.
The role of Aida was performed by Michelle Bradley. She is a newcomer but is already a huge star on the international opera circuit. She is African American. She was born in Versailles, Kentucky, a town of 10,000 or fewer people. She graduated from Woodford County High School, then graduated from Kentucky State University, then studied vocal performance at Bowling Green State University.
The town of Versailles, small as it is, used to have three high schools. One of them was for Blacks only, even though the town’s Black population is tiny, about 6%. After the Brown decision, the three merged, and the Woodford County High School opened in 1963.
The publication of the San Francisco Opera interviewed the phenomenal new star:
At school, she was the girl with the crooked teeth, the one the other kids teased and taunted. To spare herself the bullying, she kept her mouth shut.
“I didn’t talk at all until I got home,” soprano Michelle Bradley explains. “I was getting picked on a lot at school. And so I just stopped talking. Until I could get braces, I just didn’t talk in public.”
But in the afternoons, before her parents returned from work, Bradley would retreat into her sanctuary: her bedroom’s walk-in closet. There, with the door closed, Bradley would sing, without fear that anyone would hear her or judge her.
One day, though, her singing would no longer be a secret. One day, it would grace stages around the world, making her one of today’s most buzzed-about up-and-coming opera stars.
Growing up in Versailles, Kentucky, Bradley remembers her mother received free CDs in the mail, with songs from Aretha Franklin, Diana Ross, and The Clark Sisters, a gospel group from Detroit. Bradley loved them all. But there was one singer who inspired her the most: superstar Whitney Houston.
“She was my idol. That’s who I was trying to be as a little girl,” Bradley says.
In those early years, she would tally the ways she and Houston were alike—they shared a birth month, a Zodiac sign—just to feel a little closer to the superstar. And when the movie The Bodyguard came out, with Houston in the starring role, Bradley watched it over and over.
But trying to sing big, powerful ballads like Houston did in a closet made discretion difficult. Bradley had three brothers, two older and one younger. And like many a pesky sibling, Bradley’s younger brother was all too eager to spill the beans on his sister’s secret hobby.
“Mom, Dad, Tammy likes to sing in the closet! Tammy likes to sing in the closet,” she remembers him shouting, using the name she’s called at home.
Even with her parents, Bradley only spoke when spoken to. She was shy. Her parents could hardly believe she had a secret pastime singing. They called her into the living room and asked her to perform something. Naturally, Bradley chose a Houston song: “I Love the Lord” from The Preacher’s Wife.
“After that, my parents had me up singing at church services and everything else,” Bradley says. “It just started from there.”
Bradley had shown musical talent even from a young age. At Kmart, while her mother did the shopping, an 8-year-old Bradley would park herself in the aisle with all the musical equipment: “That was back when they had all the keyboards sitting out and had them all plugged up. Ooh, that was fun!”
She had no problem finding the keys to play the theme songs for kids’ shows like Sesame Street and Fraggle Rock. “I really don’t know how I did it,” Bradley says. “I loved my little cartoons, and so I would hear that and then I could sing it or play it. I just needed to hear it, and I had it.”
Neither of Bradley’s parents had studied music, but both loved to sing. They had met during the civil rights movement in the 1960s, two of the first Black students to integrate their Kentucky high school. Bradley’s father passed her mother a note that read, “I want to be your man.” They sang together in church choirs ever since they started dating.
It was with their help that Bradley started to overcome her shyness. Her father, a police officer, was a deacon at Polk Memorial Baptist Church. Her mother continued to sing in the church choir. Bradley started by learning to play services with the church pianist. By high school, she could carry a whole service.
And when, at age 14 or 15, she started singing in public, Bradley’s parents were always there, cheering her on. “Honestly, that’s who I would focus on when I was singing. I would look at them if I got nervous. So that helped me a lot. They helped me a lot.”
Soon, Bradley had the confidence to sing at school pep rallies and Christmas parties. “When I started doing that, when I started singing at school, people stopped picking on me. I was going from, ‘Hey, a crooked-tooth girl’ to ‘Hey, can you come sing for us?’”
It was the start of something great. Bradley would go on to graduate from the Metropolitan Opera’s prestigious Lindemann Young Artist Development Program. Her voice won her awards galore—from the Leonie Rysanek Award to the grand prize at the Marilyn Horne Song Competition—and she toured Europe, performing in great opera houses from Berlin to Vienna to Paris and beyond.
Now, she’s taking the U.S. by storm. This past fall, she starred as the heroine Liù in the Metropolitan Opera’s Turandot, and in March, she makes her debut with the Lyric Opera of Chicago as the title character in Tosca. Then, she joins San Francisco Opera for its Centennial Season, making her inaugural appearance in the company’s Dialogues of the Carmelites.
Bradley frequently visits Houston, because that’s where her voice teacher, Lois Alba, lives. When the pandemic closed down everything, including opera, she stayed with her family in Versailles for eight or nine months. She practiced at Kentucky State and the local church.
During that time, she got requests to sing virtually. She found that the best acoustics in the house was in the bathroom. So she would get dressed up in her regalia and sing at an angle that didn’t show the toilet.
When she was in high school, she thought she might one day be a music teacher or choir director. But in her freshman year at Kentucky State, her voice teacher, AndrewSmith, told her she had the voice to sing opera and encouraged her. She “just fell in love with it.” He showed her Turandot on a VHS, the first opera ever for her and she was immediately transfixed. Mr. Smith also gave her a CD of Leontyne Price, and Michelle was star struck.
It was like when I was a little girl listening to Whitney Houston, except this was an opera singer. I heard that voice and I don’t know what inside me said, “That’s me. I can do that.” But hearing one of the greatest voices of our time, I said, “I can do that too.” I still, to this day, don’t know where that came from. Or maybe I do know where it came from. But that was really my first thought: that I can do this. I can sound like that. It’s like I found a home.
From Versailles, Kentucky, to the Metropolitan Opera!
What a remarkable story, and what a wonderful voice!
Andy Beshear was elected Governor of Kentucky in 2019 against Matt Bevin, a hard-right Republican who supported charters and vouchers and fought to reorganize teachers’ pension fund. Beshear, who was State Attorney General, successfully blocked Bevin’s efforts to harm teachers’ pensions.
Andy Beshear is the son of a Kentucky Governor, Steve Beshear (Governor from 2007-2015), and a graduate of Henry Clay High School in Lexington. Andy ran on a program championing public schools. He chose a teacher, Jacqueline Coleman, as his running mate.
Beshear narrowly beat Bevin, and he and Coleman are the only elected Democrats at the state level (remember, Mitch McConnell and Rand Paul are Kentucky’s Senators).
He is running for re-election this year. He leads the polls over all his GOP competitors. His favorability rating is about 60%.
Last year, the legislature passed a bill to authorize charter schools. Governor Beshear vetoed it.
Please listen to his message when he vetoed it.
This is how Democrats win election. By speaking to the 85-90% of people whose children are in public schools and to the 90% who graduated public schools. They want better schools. They like their schools and their teachers. Andy Beshear knows it.
When Republican Matt Bevin was Governor of Kentucky, the state legislature passed a bill in 2017 authorizing charter schools. The law mandated that Louisville open a charter school. When it came time to set up a funding mechanism for charters, Democratic Governor Andy Beshear vetoed it.
When it came time to open a charter school, no one applied. The usual chains were not interested in opening a charter without funding.
The Louisville Courier-Journal reported:
Last year, Kentucky lawmakers demanded that school district leaders in Louisville seek and approve at least one application for a charter school in 2023.
Just one problem: No one applied.
Jefferson County Public Schools’ charter school information portal shows just one group formally notified the district of their intent to apply. The group, however, did not end up actually doing that.
Kentucky Department of Education spokesperson Toni Konz Tatman similarly confirmed Thursday no one applied to open a charter school in Northern Kentucky – the second location mandated to have a charter. District leaders in that region get until July 1, 2024 under state law.
Last week, the Supreme Court of Kentucky declared a voucher program unconstitutional. The legislature is controlled by Republicans, the Governor is a Democrat. The ruling was met with delight by friends of public schools.
A Kentucky Supreme Court judge struck down the state’s so-called school choice program Thursday.
The state’s highest court unanimously ruled House Bill 563, officially called the Education Opportunity Account Act, as unconstitutional.
The legislation creates an almost dollar-for-dollar tax credit for Kentuckians who donate to scholarship-granting educational nonprofit organizations.
The measure sparked controversy last year and narrowly passed the Kentucky General Assembly with a 48-47 vote in the House. Kentucky Gov. Andy Beshear (D) vetoed the bill, but both the state House and Senate overrode the veto.
Opponents of the bill argued the measure would divert tax money from Kentucky public schools, while supporters said the measure would help open up new educational opportunities for families.
In the ruling, judges agreed with the bill’s critics, stating that the substance of the bill was “obvious.”
“The Commonwealth may not be sending tax revenues directly to fund nonpublic schools’ tuition (or other nonpublic school costs) but it most assuredly is raising a ‘sum… for education other than in common schools,” the ruling states.
Eddie Campbell, president of the Kentucky Education Association, a labor group that represents thousands of educators in the state, applauded the court’s decision, calling the ruling a “victory” for the state’s public schools and public school students.
“It’s always been clear to the plaintiffs and their supporters that the Kentucky Constitution prohibits any attempt to divert tax dollars from our public schools and students without putting the question to voters,” Campbell said in a statement.
“We simply can’t afford to support two different education systems — one private and one public — on the taxpayers’ dime, and this ruling supports that concern. This decision is proof that the courts continue to serve as an important check against legislative overreach,” he added.
The Kentucky legislature enacted a voucher law limited to urban districts. Rural districts did not want vouchers.
Today that law was rejected by the state’s highest court.
First, the law was limited to only a few districts.
But most important:
The circuit court also held that the EOA Act violates Section 184 of the Kentucky Constitution which provides that “no sum shall be raised or collected for education other than in common schools until the question of taxation is submitted to the legal voters.” Applying the plain language of this section, the income tax credit raises money for nonpublic education and its characterization as a tax credit rather than an appropriation is immaterial. The circuit court cited Commonwealth v. O’Harrah, 262 S.W.2d 385, 389 (Ky. 1953), for the long-standing principle that “[i]n appraising the validity of the statute we must look through the form of the statute to the substance of what it does.” Every dollar raised under the EOA program to fund the AGOs is raised by tax credits which diminish the tax revenue received to defray the necessary expenses of government…
Finally, the circuit court concluded that the factual record necessary to consideration of the constitutional issues raised by Sections 3 and 171 of the Kentucky Constitution was not yet developed. Sections 3 and 171 prohibit payment of public money “to any man or set of men, except in consideration of public services,” and require principles of public purpose, uniformity, and equality in levying taxes. Likewise, the court deemed the record is underdeveloped on the issues pertaining to Sections 183 and 186 of the Kentucky Constitution, which require the Kentucky General Assembly to provide for “an efficient system of common schools” that is adequately and equitably funded, and that “[a]ll funds accruing to the school fund shall be used for the maintenance of the public schools of the Commonwealth, and for no other purpose.” Because the record contains no discovery, depositions, or expert testimony to establish whether the EOA Act is consistent with these constitutional requirements, the court denied summary judgment on these issues.
Mercedes Schneider writes here about the decision by Willie Carver, Kentucky’s 2022 Teacher of the Year, to resign.
Carver testified before Congress and described the indignities he endured because he is gay. Carver is a highly qualified, highly experienced teacher. He loves teaching. But he is afraid to return to the classroom because of the state-sponsored bigotry that threatens teachers and students like him.
Carver told members of Congress (in part, open the link):
Identity is rarely discussed by direct means. No teachers come out as straight. They are married to opposite sex spouses whose pictures sit on their desks or whose names come up in stories about vacations or weekend trips to the grocery store.
LGBTQ teachers and students will not be afforded this freedom. They will be required to deny their existence and edit the most basic aspects of their stories, unlike their classmates and colleagues.
Few LGBTQ teachers will survive this current storm. Politicizing our existence has already darkened our schools.
I’m made invisible. When we lost our textbooks during lockdown, I co-wrote two free textbooks
with a university professor, made them free to anyone who wanted them, and found sponsors to print them. I wasn’t allowed to share them at my school. Other schools in Kentucky celebrate similar work by teachers, but my name is a liability.
I’m from the small town of Mt. Sterling, KY and I was invited to meet the President of the United States. It was not advertised to my students and colleagues. My school didn’t even mention it in an email or morning announcement.
This invisibility extends to all newly politicized identities. Our administrators’ new directive about books and lessons is “nothing racial.”
We all know how to interpret this.
Works by white people living lives as white people are never called racial.
Works by Black and brown people living lives as Black and brown people are always called racial.
The politicization of identity erases their identities.
Parents now demand alternative assignments when authors of texts or materials are Black or LGBTQ; we teachers are told to accommodate them, but I cannot ethically erase Black or queer voices.
We ban materials by marginalized authors, ignoring official processes. One parent complaint removes all students’ books overnight.
Endangered educators
My Gay Straight Alliance (GSA), a campus group dedicated to discussing and helping make schools safe for LGBTQ students, couldn’t share an optional campus climate survey with classmates. I was told it might make straight students uncomfortable.
Students now use anti-LGBTQ or racist slurs without consequence. Hatred is politically protected now.
When my GSA’s posters were torn from walls, my principal’s response was that people think LGBTQ advocacy is “being shoved down their throats.”
Inclusive teachers are thrown under the bus by the people driving it.
During a national teacher shortage crisis, I know gay educators with perfect records dismissed this year.
A Kentucky teacher’s whiteboard message of “You are free to be yourself with me. You matter” with pride flags resulted in wild accusations and violent threats. During this madness, his superintendent wrote to a parent, “This incident … is unacceptable and will not be tolerated.” The situation became unimaginably unsafe. He resigned.
Last month, a parent’s dangerous, false allegations that my GSA was “grooming” students were shared 65 times on Facebook. I felt my students and I were unsafe. Multiple parents and I asked the school to defend us. One father wrote simply, “Please do something!” The school refused to support us.
There are 10,000 people in my town; one fringe parent doesn’t represent most parents, who trust us.
Student suicides
School is traumatic; LGBTQ students are trying to survive it. They often don’t. Year after year, I receive suicidal goodbye texts from students at night. We’ve always saved them, but now I panic when my phone goes off after 10:00.
Meryl, a gentle trans girl from Owen County High, took her life in 2020. She always wanted a GSA. Her friends tried to establish one, but the teachers who wanted to help were afraid to sponsor it. Meryl’s mother Rachelle runs an unofficial GSA, PRISM, from the local library.
45% of LGBTQ youth seriously considered suicide this year. We chip away at their dignity and spaces to exist. The systems meant to protect them won’t even acknowledge them.
I recently attended Becky Oglesby’s TED Talk. She described surviving a tornado with first graders, how they huddled, her arms around them, as their school walls lifted into the darkness.
I sobbed uncontrollably. I realized that for fifteen years, I have huddled around students, protecting them from the winds, and now the tornado’s here. As the walls rip away, I feel I’m abandoning them.
But I’m tired. I’ve been fighting since my first day in a classroom. Fighting for kids to feel human. Fighting for kids to be safe. Fighting to stop the fear by changing hearts and minds.
I’m tired. I don’t know how much longer I can do it.
It is not safe to be gay in Kentucky or Florida or most states in the South and Midwest. Nor is it safe to be Black or Brown in the many states that have banned teaching about the history of racism.
Willie Carver has accepted a position at the University of Kentucky where he will work in student services.
Censorship and harassment does eliminate homosexuality. Nor does it turn all students white.
Lying about history doesn’t change history. It just spreads ignorance.
A few weeks ago, a story surfaced that Biden planned to nominate an anti-abortion lawyer in Kentucky to a federal judgeship. Apparently, he cut a deal with Mitch McConnell to speed up judicial confirmations in exchange for speeding up some of Biden’s judicial appointments.
But apparently the deal fell apart and Biden will not give Chad Meredith a lifetime appointment.
WASHINGTON — The White House is abandoning plans to nominate a Kentucky lawyer who opposes abortion rights and is backed by Senator Mitch McConnell to a federal court seat, citing opposition from Senator Rand Paul, Mr. McConnell’s home-state colleague.
The resistance from Mr. McConnell’s fellow Republican marked a new twist over a potential nomination that had prompted outrage on the left. Democrats were incensed that President Biden’s team had agreed to advance a conservative chosen by Mr. McConnell to fill a district court vacancy as the party is stepping up its focus on countering new abortion restrictions.
The prospective nominee, Chad Meredith, had successfully defended Kentucky’s anti-abortion law as a lawyer for the state. Mr. Biden’s plan to nominate him was made public by The Louisville Courier-Journal just before the Supreme Court overturned the Roe v. Wade precedent that established abortion rights…
The blue slip tradition followed by the Senate Judiciary Committee effectively gives home-state senators veto power over the selection of federal district court judges for their states.
“In considering potential district court nominees, the White House learned that Senator Rand Paul will not return a blue slip on Chad Meredith,” Andrew Bates, a White House spokesman, said Friday in a statement. “Therefore, the White House will not nominate Mr. Meredith.”
Diane Ravitch's blog 