Boundary Realignment in the Eye of the Storm.

If you are looking to avoid conflict and increase your circle of friends, volunteering to chair a redistricting committee should not be on your to-do list.

The nature of a participatory redistricting process puts the chairperson in the crossfire of multiple interest groups battling over key issues. The task is not for the faint of heart. Those who survive the job will come away with numerous insights about conflict, interpersonal dynamics, and the politics of education.

As chairperson of our district's redistricting process, I often was confronted with volatile situations. The issues and predicaments typically involved four spheres of influence: the superintendent and board of education, the redistricting committee, the public at large, and the news media. The chairperson's ability to interact within and between each of these contributing forces will determine whether the process ultimately will succeed.

The Springfield Local School District is a suburban district located outside Toledo, Ohio. Student enrollment, currently at 3,750, has steadily increased over the past decade. Residential and commercial projects dot the community master plan.

The area's significant growth has required additional taxes to fund construction of a new elementary school and additional classrooms at existing schools. Tax issues have not come easily for the district; the last operating levy took five tries to pass. Animosity between school officials and an anti-tax group festered during this period.

Springfield students come from diverse economic backgrounds. School buses traverse half-million dollar walled subdivisions, trailer courts, subsidized public housing, and middle-income neighborhoods as they pick up students on their daily rounds. Income disparity is a noticeable characteristic of this rapidly expanding and changing community.

Marching Orders 

George Tombaugh, Springfield's superintendent, appointed me to lead the redistricting committee. I looked forward to the challenges of the assignment, but I also knew it was fraught with danger. We had just passed an operating levy to open an elementary school that had sat vacant for a year. Levy wounds still were fresh and people would watch intently as new attendance boundaries were devised.

The superintendent, a veteran of several redistricting projects, provided an ominous foreshadowing of events. The job of the redistricting committee was to generate two or three boundary alternatives to present to the board of education. The board would make the final decision about where the lines would be drawn.

Before going before the board, the committee was to present the plans to the public during two open forums. The superintendent warned that the debate would heat up quickly after options became public. He reassured me that conflict and disagreement were necessary parts of the process. To provide community members with an outlet for complaints, the superintendent removed himself from the redistricting process so that he could play an appellate role.

After each redistricting committee meeting, I met with the committee dent and provided updates. I wanted no surprises for the boss once time for a decision came. These update meetings also helped me gauge whether the committee was moving toward alternatives that were politically viable in the eyes of the board.

Putting the board into a corner was also something to avoid. I knew that if I embarrassed the superintendent or board of education with ill-conceived boundary options, my ascent up the career ladder would halt abruptly. Self-preservation was always a motivating force as I performed my duties as chairperson.

Shielding Criticism

At one point, when discord within the committee reached a crescendo, I recommended to the superintendent that the group be disbanded. The dysfunctional nature of the deliberations was worrisome. This admission was as much a condemnation of me as it was about the inability of the participants to leave behind their own self-interest.

The superintendent calmly reassured me that the venom spewing from various individuals, neighbourhoods, and community groups meant that we were unearthing the hidden problems associated with the plans. This was the purpose of a participatory process--to discover problems before a final decision was made. He encouraged me to "trust the process" and let it run its course.

The redistricting committee also served another purpose: it shielded the board from a hailstorm of criticism. Board members would have their turn in the barrel, but it would be at the end of the process when most of the emotion from the debate had been exhausted.

Board of education members were advised by the superintendent to stay away from the fray until the redistricting committee presented its three proposals. For the most part, they did that.

Early in the process, a board member stopped in and offered suggestions about the boundary lines. His plan, which eventually was one of the options developed by the committee, later would be attacked angrily by some community members. After the first public forum, the board member called me and backed away from his original position. He expressed total confidence in the committee's ability to come up with an equitable plan.

Committee Blues

From the outset, I expected protests from community members once proposed changes were known. I naively underestimated the extreme conflict that would occur within the group designated to complete the task. With this group I gained a new sense of humility.

Springfield's redistricting committee consisted of seven parents, two elementary principals, and the director of transportation. All participants were female. The parents, each representing a different neighborhood, were selected by the elementary principals. They were chosen because of their long-time involvement with the school system. My role as chairperson was to provide information and get participants to emphasize common interest over special interest.

The committee used six criteria to guide deliberations: student enrollment, neighborhood schools, logical borders, diverse student populations, transportation issues, and projected growth. After agreeing on the criteria, the committee quickly fractured into special-interest groups once boundary options were discussed. The main point of contention was dispersing low-income students who were highly concentrated in one region of the district and attended one elementary school.

With emotions running high, I found the more I attempted to bring the group to a consensus compromise about this divisive issue, the more several members dug in their heels. Resentment and class divisions that had been simmering for 10 years lurked always in the background of our discussions. A faction within the committee had determined that it was tired of being treated like second-class citizens. Its members were going to make sure they were treated fairly during the redistricting process.

I was frustrated with the committee members' inability to let go of the past and their own self-interest. Based on the proceedings, I feared we were heading for a public debacle.

Favored Target

As committee members became more polarized and frustrated, I became their punching bag. One committee member came early to a meeting just to criticize my performance as chairperson. She called me a "puppet" of the superintendent and the board and threatened to have me ousted. She resented my regular progress reports with the superintendent and said the process should be free of politics.

Since I forced committee members to examine views held by others, one participant accused me of being biased and immoral. She felt I had pushed too hard against her position. Several were concerned about the data (student enrollment and the number of students qualifying for free and reduced lunch) that I provided to them. Trust was not overflowing.

In hindsight, I made mistakes that added to the jagged deliberations. I could have enhanced my impartial role if I had a third par manipulate the data and provide summaries to committee members. As soon as some committee members began to question the data that were used to base decisions, I knew we were precariously close to going into a free fall. If I couldn't keep my own committee together about facts and figures, how could we get the board of education and community to take the proposals seriously? I should have focused my efforts on facilitating the group process and delegated the number crunching to an independent body.

Other basic lessons that I learned: have someone take minutes; select a committee with diversity in mind; prevent uncompromising participants from dominating meetings; and use a weighted voting strategy when consensus is not attainable.

The lion's Den

The public forums gay the community an opportunity to provide the committee with feedback about boundary options before going to the board of education. These sessions widened the circle of participation, which was frightening to me, given the rancor that occurred among the 10 committee participants. The sessions were widely publicized in advance and held in the high school auditorium.

Knowing I would most likely face a hostile crowd at the first forum, I spent hours reviewing data and rehearsing my presentation. From the podium, I presented the committee's proposals to community members. The redistricting committee sat up front in an attempt to show unity. Maps of the options also were distributed so that audience members could visually follow along. Strengths and weaknesses of each option were detailed.

After my presentation, community members approached a second microphone and shared their concerns and comments. The input was skewed heavily toward the negative. Since I remained standing at the podium during this feedback stage, people directed their critiques at me. Shortsighted options, lack of boundary planning expertise, secretive meetings, and "not in my backyard" were some of the criticisms leveled. Several residents expressed their views with strong emotion. The mayor did the most damage by stating that the plans as presented were unacceptable.

A government planner who had assisted several school districts with boundary planning slowly picked me apart. He questioned my ability to lead such an intricate and important task. His technical probes were intended to embarrass me in public and discredit the whole process. I finally ended the inquisition by admitting to the gentleman that I was not a professional planner but that I (and the committee) did have the skills to do the job.

To avoid appearing defensive, I mostly thanked people for their comments and answered their questions. At times I responded to accusations, championed the work of the committee, and subtly clarified misconceptions. I told the crowd that the committee would reconvene the next day and discuss the feedback received. Any adjustments or new options would be presented at the second and final public forum that was scheduled for the following week. The ability to remain poised during this first forum was one of my greatest accomplishments.

The second forum was fairly peaceful. The primary reason for the change in atmosphere and outcome was that the committee had devised two new options that were acceptable to more people. The committee addressed the problem areas raised at the first forum.

Being a spokesperson for a committee that devised several controversial boundary options was a lonely assignment. I was publicly explaining options that I personally did not frilly endorse. My feelings of isolation were especially strong given the estranged relationship that I had with some committee members. It was difficult to defend the redistricting committee's plans because of the sometimes caustic interactions that took place behind and beyond closed doors.

Media Microscope

Due to the animosity that occurred between school supporters and anti-tax coalitions during recent levy campaigns, any event that could remotely create controversy attracted news media attention.

Reporters from a television station and the area's daily newspaper attended the first public forum. Before it began, a television reporter requested an interview and asked me general questions about the committee and what criteria were being used to develop attendance boundaries. The reporter was cordial and wished me luck.

The redistricting forum was the top story on the 11 o'clock news. The station led off the newscast by showing a parent screaming at me that "We got the shaft." They then juxtaposed interviews with me and the mayor to frame the controversy. The pictures were not pretty. The remarks made by several irate community members were used to characterize the community as being insensitive to the needs of poor students.

The media also discovered that one committee member adamantly opposed the options that were presented at the forum. Once this chasm within the redistricting committee became public, the drama surrounding the proceedings intensified. Our redistricting project became a hot news item. Reporters began seeking interviews with individual committee members. I cautioned the committee not to air our dirty laundry in public.

Following the first forum, a newspaper reporter called to ask several clarifying questions. The lack of agreement among committee members was her main angle. She and I had a very good working relationship until then, so the phone interview went smoothly.

The last question the reporter asked caught me off guard, though. She had heard a rumor that during one of our committee meetings one of the participants used a racial slur. Before I could answer, she politely said that my response was on the record.

I assured her that the deliberations had been heated on several occasions, but that no racial overtones were present. I did admit that perceptions about income levels and certain neighborhoods were discussed.

After I hung up, I regretted mentioning the economic issue because of the sensitive nature of the "haves and have nots" debate. The article appeared the next day and it covered the internal controversy over the dispersion of low-income students, but it did not reveal the personal nature of the committee discussions. At that point, I was thankful for small favors.

The difficulty associated with facilitating a change process such as redistricting was dramatically increased by the intrusion of television cameras and journalists. Not only did I have to manage the group dynamics of a renegade committee, but I had to spend a lot of time on damage control. I did not want the negative images and words to cause a total meltdown. At times I had all 10 fingers in the dike.

Storm Survival

In the end, the process worked The committee presented four possible boundary options to the board. The committee endorsed one option as the best. The board of education adopted that plan with minor modifications. We heard little negative reaction when the final decision was made. The distasteful aspects of the plan had been carved out during the grassroots meetings.

Half a year into the implementation of the new boundaries, Springfield residents appear satisfied with the committee's work and decision of the board. I was thankful to have survived the role of chairperson. When the task was completed I felt like a pilot who had successfully landed a plane full of people during a treacherous storm with only one engine and no landing gear.