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New President, a Church Pastor, Leading LeMoyne-Owen College’s Revival

It might seem odd that the investiture of LeMoyne-Owen College’s 14th president will be held on a religious holiday, Good Friday.

Good Friday, one of the oldest traditions in Christianity, is a solemn day of mourning and reflection. It’s a commemoration of the crucifixion and death of Jesus.

The investiture ceremony, one of the oldest traditions in academia, is a joyous day of pomp and circumstance. It’s a celebration that marks the beginning of a new era for the college.

The symbolism isn’t lost on Rev. Dr. Christopher Davis, age 52, who last summer was named president of LeMoyne-Owen College.

“Good Friday reminds us that after the darkness, there is light. After struggle, there is renewal. And after every crucifixion, there is resurrection,” Davis said. “This investiture is not just a ceremony; it is a declaration that LeMoyne-Owen College is in the midst of a resurrection.”

Religion won’t save LeMoyne-Owen College, the nation’s fifth oldest historically black college. But Davis, the first church pastor to be the college’s president, is hoping it will play a big role in the long-struggling institution’s revival.

He hired Dr. Pete Gathje, the longtime academic dean at Memphis Theological Seminary, to launch a new bachelor’s degree in religion.

He reinstituted a weekly chapel service, in part to reconnect the college to its roots in the church.

He believes LeMoyne-Owen’s growth will improve the fortunes of South Memphis, and he’s approaching the role of college president with a missionary’s zeal.

Two days after Davis delivers his presidential inaugural address, he will deliver his annual Easter sermon at St. Paul Baptist Church in Whitehaven, where he has been senior pastor since 2000.

The hope of resurrection will be theme of both.

“LeMoyne-Owen College has faced its share of challenges over the years — leadership transitions, financial struggles, and even threats to its accreditation,” Davis said. “There have been moments when the institution’s future seemed uncertain. But just as Good Friday is not the end of the story, neither are the struggles of our past.”

“Never lost hope”

LeMoyne-Owen College’s struggles are well documented.

In the early 2000s, the college was put on academic probation by The Southern Association of Colleges and Schools.

Enrollment had crashed, dropping by more than 40 percent to under 600. Debt had more than doubled to nearly $10 million. The administration had to cut nearly $1 million from the budget and laid off two dozen employees.

The school that first opened its doors in 1862 was in danger of having to close them. But supporters of the college, including city, county and state governments, and alumni, rallied to its side, pledging more than $4 million to help remove the school from probation and give it new life.

Enrollment rose to about 1,000. Then, a few years later, it began to fall again. Retention, graduation rates, and alumni giving remained low. Debt rose again to more than $1 million. The school’s endowment shrunk to about $13 million. Seven employees were laid off.

In 2019, the board of trustees, led by Davis, decided not to renew the contract of president Dr. Andrea Lewis Miller, amid charges of plagiarism and nepotism.

“It was a difficult time,” said Dr. Carol Johnson-Dean, who was the college’s interim president from 2019-2021. “We had to make some difficult decisions, but Chris and the board never lost hope.”

In 2020, in the midst of the pandemic, the college found new life again, this time in the form of a $40 million donation from the Community Foundation of Greater Memphis. It was the largest gift in LeMoyne-Owen’s history. It quadrupled the college’s endowment and stabilized its finances.

It didn’t stabilize leadership. In 2023, president Dr. Vernell Bennett-Fairs resigned without explanation after two years as president. The board named Davis interim president. A year later, the board voted to make Davis the college’s 14th president.

“Dr. Davis was an unconventional choice, but no one was more qualified or prepared to lead LeMoyne-Owen College,” said Vanecia Belser Kimbrow, an attorney who followed Davis as board chair.

“LeMoyne’s historic mission”

Dr. Christopher B. Davis is the 14th president of LeMoyne-Owen College, Feb 28, 2025. . (© Karen Pulfer Focht)

Christopher Bernard Davis grew up just west of Memphis in the tiny Arkansas Delta town of Proctor, named for an early settler named Moses Proctor.

David didn’t follow the traditional academic, corporate or government path to becoming a college president.

After graduating from the University of Arkansas in 1997, he became pastor of a Baptist church in western Arkansas.

In 2000, he was named senior pastor of St. Paul Baptist Church, then on South Parkway. Seven years later, Davis moved the growing congregation to a larger campus in Whitehaven.

Davis does have academic bona fides.

He earned a master’s degree in religion at Memphis Theological Seminary (MTS) in 2004, a Doctor of Ministry (DMin) degree from United Theological Seminary in 2007, and he’s pursuing a Doctor of Philosophy degree (PhD) from Anderson University.

Davis was a member of the MTS faculty for 16 years, and associate dean of doctoral studies for seven. Under his guidance, the DMin program grew from around 25 students to 100.

“I kept one foot in the sanctuary and one foot in the classroom,” Davis said.

He also spent a lot of time with both feet on LeMoyne’s campus. Before he was named interim president in 2023, Davis had been chairman of the college’s board of trustees for eight years.

“Chris deeply understands LeMoyne’s historic mission, its significant challenges, and its unique opportunities,” said Johnson-Dean. “He has the ability to tell the story of the college and to articulate a vision that honors the past but also pushes the college beyond its past.”

Since Davis was named interim president, enrollment is up 18 percent to 688. Davis’s goal: 1,000 by 2028.

Freshman retention rate is up to 60 percent. Davis’s goal: 80 percent.

The college’s endowment is up to $55 million. Davis’s goal: $100 million.

“Those are crazy goals, right?” Davis said. “But we believe that LeMoyne isn’t a charity. It’s an investment. In a city where we’re concerned about losing our best and brightest to Nashville and Atlanta, why would you not invest in an institution that manages to keep 96 percent of its graduates in this community?”

Davis has board members believing as well.

“We’ve had a revolving door of leadership over the years, but Chris has been a rock,” said K.C. Warren, chair of the board’s institutional advancement committee. “Now, under Chris’s leadership, fundraising is up, energy on campus is up, enrollment is up. This is an exciting time for us.”

“A faith-based college”

Peter Gathje during chapel at LeMoyne Owen College where he teaches religion in Memphis. (© Karen Pulfer Focht)

One of Davis’s first acts as president was to reinstitute a weekly chapel service at Metropolitan Baptist Church, which sits next door to the campus. Attendance is voluntary.

LeMoyne has been and remains a four-year liberal arts college, but Davis believes the school’s future will be stronger as it remembers and honors its past.

“When I got here, LeMoyne had sort of lost its way and abandoned its religious heritage,” Davis said. “I think it’s important to remember that LeMoyne-Owen College was created in a merger of two very different and diverse denominational backgrounds. This is a faith-based college.”

It certainly was a faith-founded college, a product of the Second Great Awakening, a significant Protestant religious movement of the early 19th Century.

In 1862, after the Union took control of Memphis, members of the American Missionary Association (AMA) opened Lincoln Chapel, an elementary school for freed and runaway slaves.

The AMA, inspired by the Second Great Awakening, was formed in 1846 by Congregationalists and other Christians committed to the abolition of slavery. The AMA founded more than 500 schools, including nine historically black colleges.

Lincoln Chapel was destroyed by fire during the Memphis Massacre in 1865. Six years later, a white Pennsylvania doctor and abolitionist named Frances Julius LeMoyne donated $20,000 to the AMA to open a new Freedmen’s School in Memphis.

LeMoyne Normal and Commercial School opened in 1871 on Orleans Street in South Memphis, next door to Second Congregational Church, which served as LeMoyne’s chapel.

The school — and the church — were relocated to Walker Avenue near Elmwood Cemetery in the early 1900s. LeMoyne became a junior college in 1924, a four-year college in 1930, and merged with S.A. Owen Junior College in 1968.

Owen College also has roots in the church. It was founded in 1954 by the Tennessee Baptist Missionary and Educational Convention. It was named for Rev. S.A. Owen, who was pastor of the Metropolitan Baptist Church.

“LeMoyne-Owen College has played a major role in uplifting, empowering and advancing the Black community in Memphis,” said Rev. Dr. Earle Fisher, one of two faculty members in the college’s new religion degree program. “And as Black folks go, so goes Memphis.”

Fisher, a LeMoyne-Owen graduate, has been senior pastor of Abyssinian Baptist Church since 2011. Before teaching at LeMoyne, Fisher taught religion courses at Rhodes College.

Rev Earle J Fisher, Ph.D. | Facebook

Rhodes, CBU and the University of Memphis all offer undergraduate degrees in religious studies, but none of those programs include courses designed to prepare students for ministry.

LeMoyne’s religion major includes courses in African American preaching, worship in the Black Church, pastoral care, and church administration.

“Memphis needs a college that provides a formal, undergraduate training for black religious practitioners, and there’s no better place for that than the city’s only historically black college,” said Fisher.

LeMoyne’s alumni roster includes such legendary local ministers as G.E. Patterson, Benjamin Hooks, Billy Kyles, James Netters, Reuben Green, Randolph Meade Walker, and Gina Stewart.

It also includes such academic luminaries as Black church scholar C. Eric Lincoln; Henry Logan Starks, the first Black professor at Memphis Theological Seminary; and Dr. Clarence Christian, the first Black professor at Rhodes College.

“Awakening from the dead”

LeMoyne-Owen will graduate its first ever class of religion majors next year.

Six students began taking religion classes last fall. The college hopes to raise that number to 10 this fall and keep growing.

The new religion program offered four courses last fall and four others this spring. All are taught by Gathje or Fisher.

“LeMoyne-Owen has always offered religion courses, but never a religion major,” said Gathje, chairman of college’s Fine Arts & Humanities division. “This will help us prepare students for ministry in a way no other local college does.”

Gathje has been a local leader in theological education for more than a quarter century.

In his 17 years at MTS, Gathje filled a wide variety of roles including director of admissions, financial aid, library and IT as well as academic dean and professor of Christian ethics.

Before that, Gathje, who has a PhD from Emory University, spent a decade as a professor and chair of the department of religion and philosophy at Christian Brothers University.

He’s more widely known locally as the founding director of Manna House, a nonprofit ministry for men and women experiencing homelessness.

“No one in this city knows more about theological education and application than Pete,” Davis said.

LeMoyne’s first class of religion majors include Devin Ellis and Rev. Y.C. Cox.

Ellis grew up near LeMoyne-Owen College. Her grandfather was a security guard there. She wants to be a chaplain and work in a prison or a hospital.

“The courses I’ve taken from Dr. Gathje and Dr. Fisher are retraining my brain,” she said. “It’s empowering. I feel like I’m awakening from the dead.”

Cox, 67, longtime pastor of Advocate Fellowship Baptist Church in Barton Heights, started college twice in his younger days but never got a degree.

“I’m the OMOC. The old man on campus,” said Cox, whose youngest son by baptized by Davis many years ago. “People ask me, what can you do with a religion degree at your age? I say, ‘Anything I want.’”

David Waters is Distinguished Journalist in Residence and assistant director of the Institute for Public Service Reporting at the University of Memphis.

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Cover Feature News

The Feagins Fiasco

I’ve watched every school board meeting since Dr. Marie Feagins was elected superintendent of Memphis-Shelby County Schools a year ago.

I’ve read the board’s resolution that terminated her contract last month, and the special counsel’s 209-page investigation of the board’s allegations against her.

I’ve read Feagins’ response to the allegations in her two-page email to board chair Joyce Dorse-Coleman on January 6th, and her 14-page “official response” to the board January 14th.

I’ve read Feagins’ startling allegations against the board in the 31-page lawsuit she filed in Shelby County Circuit Court earlier this month.

I’ve read every relevant public document and heard every public statement made by all parties involved in the latest disaster that has befallen our local public school system. And I’ve read news articles, opinion columns, politicians’ comments, and angry social media posts about the sordid mess.

I still don’t get it. I still don’t understand why Feagins was fired after less than a year on the job.

Michelle McKissack (Photo: Memphis Shelby County Schools)

The three examples of “professional misconduct” the board leveled against her might have justified a public reprimand, but not a public execution. At best, as six-year board member Michelle McKissack argued, they reflect “growing pains” for a superintendent who started working in April and a board with four members elected in August. At worst, well, we don’t know.

In her recently filed lawsuit, Feagins paints a picture of school board members bowing to local political and financial interests and conspiring behind the scenes — in violation of the state’s open meetings law — to find reasons to fire her.

But board members who voted to fire her, and the special counsel’s January 21st report they relied on to do so, paint a very different picture, one of a renegade superintendent running roughshod over the district and making “false and/or misleading” statements to the board about her intentions and actions.

The public record so far, to say the least, is inconclusive.

The special counsel’s report concluded that Feagins “violated her employment contract no less than eight times and deviated from Board policy on at least nine occasions.”

Six of the nine alleged policy “deviations” pertained to a single board policy — 1013, or the Superintendent Code of Ethics. That three-page policy, approved in 2017, contains 15 “statements of standards” the superintendent must follow, including: “I will endeavor to fulfill my professional responsibilities with honesty and integrity.” Vague enough for you?

As for the eight alleged contract violations, all pertained to a single paragraph in her contract. “Ethical conduct: The superintendent in all aspects of her interactions and transactions related to carrying out her duties of superintendent, agrees to represent, enforce, and adhere to the highest ethical standards.” Whose ethical standards? Which ethical standards?

“I will point out,” McKissack wrote in a January 13th letter to the board, “that Superintendent Feagins is not accused of theft, fraud, or any criminal misconduct.” What she mostly is accused of is making “false and/or misleading” statements to the board about three allegations of “professional misconduct.” That covers 13 of the 17 alleged contract violations.

The four other “violations” were attributed to Feagins’ failure to provide a document or report to the board in a timely manner. Feagins said those failures were unintentional and the result of “staff oversights.” The public record seems to support her version.

Photo: Ariel Cobbert

The Termination Resolution

First, the termination resolution claims that Feagins “misled the board” about “overtime abuse” she brought to the board’s attention last July. “Dr. Feagins never presented any evidence suggesting that her statement was true, and she did not correct or clarify her statement to the public,” the board’s first allegation reads. But Feagins told the board last July and again in December and January that she based her comments on “documented fiscal reports” of overtime pay records for 2022, 2023, and 2024.

“I provided at least three years of data to the board,” Feagins said after hearing the charges against her read aloud at the December 17th special called meeting.

There are no records that the board ever asked for or reviewed the data or tried to substantiate Feagins’ claims about overtime abuse.

Second, the termination resolution claims that Feagins accepted and deposited in the district’s account a $45,000 donation to the district from the SchoolSeed Foundation “without Board approval.”

“At a [November 19th] Board Work Session, Dr. Feagins misrepresented her knowledge of and involvement in depositing the unapproved donation check in violation of Board Policy,” the board’s second allegation reads.

Feagins said she didn’t learn about the donation until November 8th, the result of “a staff oversight,” and “promptly submitted the donation to the Board” at its next meeting, November 19th. The board approved the donation December 3rd. Two weeks later, five board members used it to charge her with “professional misconduct.”

The special counsel’s report cites two emails Feagins sent to staff in July that “irrefutably establish” that she knew then about the check. But neither email mentions a $45,000 SchoolSeed check, which records show wasn’t received by the district until August 13th.

Third, the termination resolution claims that Feagins “was dishonest with the board and public” about missing a deadline for a $300,000 federal grant to help homeless students. Feagins acknowledged that her staff failed to meet the September 30th deadline, but said the state subsequently allowed the district to use the funds for various expenses related to helping homeless students. “We missed the deadline,” she told the board December 17th.

The board’s allegations and investigation do not say how much — if any — of the $300,000 grant (leftover Covid-relief funds) was used or forfeited. The special counsel’s report to the board states that Feagins’ comments about the grant were “only accurate to a degree, but not completely.” That could sum up the board’s allegations against Feagins: only accurate to a degree, but not completely. 

“Clerical errors,” McKissack called them at the December 17th special board meeting. At least five board members at that meeting were clearly determined to fire Feagins. They didn’t explain why Feagins or board members in her corner didn’t see the resolution to fire her until a few minutes before the meeting. They didn’t respond to questions that Feagins or four other board members raised about the specific allegations in the resolution.

Sable Otey (Photo: Memphis Shelby County Schools)

Missing Pieces

They did raise a slew of other issues that weren’t in the resolution or the special counsel’s report. Board member Sable Otey, elected August 1st, blamed Feagins for the suicidal thoughts of an educator in her district, and the firing of a teacher in her district. She also claimed teachers were texting her with complaints about the superintendent. She didn’t present any evidence of her claims, and they weren’t included in the resolution.

Towanna Murphy (Photo: Memphis Shelby County Schools)

Board member Towanna Murphy, elected August 1st, blamed Feagins for the injury of a special needs child in her district, and for putting other special needs students at risk. She didn’t present any evidence of her claims, and they weren’t included in the resolution.

Natalie McKinney (Photo: Memphis Shelby County Schools)

Board member Natalie McKinney, elected August 1st, accused Feagins of creating “a climate of fear and intimidation” in staff across the district. She didn’t present any evidence of her claims, and they weren’t included in the resolution.

Various board members blamed Feagins for the district’s problems receiving sufficient staff and materials for online learning, dual enrollment, remedial instruction, and student assessment. They didn’t present any evidence that Feagins was to blame for those problems, and those complaints weren’t included in the termination resolution.

Amber Huett-Garcia (Photo: Memphis Shelby County Schools)

Board member Amber Huett-Garcia, who voted not to fire Feagins, said many of the complaints were “highlighting the woes of a district that is under-resourced [with] generational challenges” that began decades before Feagins arrived.

McKinney pushed back. “Our [board] seats have given us a bird’s-eye view of the working of the district,” McKinney said. “We see things the general public does not see.”

The general public still is not seeing those things. The superintendent works for the board, but the board works for the public. The board owes the public — not to mention Feagins, her staff, teachers and parents, and other public officials — a thorough, clear, compelling, and public explanation for why she was fired.

There was a fourth and final accusation in the termination resolution: “The board has also become aware of certain patterns of behavior by Dr. Feagins that are not conducive to the effective operation of the District in the best interests of students, including but not limited to her refusal to communicate and/or cooperate with valued District partners.”

That accusation was not included in the 209-page investigation, nor in the list of 17 alleged contract or policy violations. But I suspect it probably comes closest to explaining what went wrong. Feagins could be prickly, curt, and dismissive, even in public board meetings, in stark contrast to her predecessor Joris Ray, who resigned under a cloud in 2022.

A Direct Approach

At board meetings, Ray was unfailingly polite and solicitous, usually thanking board members profusely and formally by title and name for every question. His staff members did the same. Ray began meetings by asking his staff to join him in reciting the district’s motto: “Together we must believe. Together we can achieve. Together we are reimagining 901.”

Feagins didn’t have a motto or lead a cheer. Her responses to board members’ questions were more direct and could include a cold stare or a disdainful “for the record” or “let the record show.”

I suspect that Feagins was fired because a majority of board members didn’t like her, didn’t like how she was managing the district, and were getting complaints from central staff administrators, principals, local nonprofit leaders, and favored local contractors.

They were being told that Feagins was moving too fast and going too far and stepping on too many toes in her efforts to restructure the top-heavy district to address the loss of Covid funding and to give classroom teachers more support and more authority. But that’s just speculation. Just about everything you’ve read or heard about why Feagins was fired is speculation.

Feagins has called the allegations against her “meritless and baseless.” Earlier this month, she sued the school board and asked the court to void the board’s 6-3 vote to fire her. 

In the lawsuit, Feagins claims that Althea Greene, Dorse-Coleman, and several other board members violated the state’s open meetings law by meeting secretly beginning in August to plan ways to terminate her contract.

It’s likely the litigation will end with a quiet, off-the-record settlement much like Ray’s agreement to resign in 2022. Which means the public may never know exactly why Feagins was fired.

What’s Next?

So now the school board is at odds and searching for its sixth superintendent since the 2013 merger upended the entire system. The Shelby County Commission has ordered a forensic audit of the school district’s budget. The state is threatening to take over the school board. State Representative Mark White (R-Memphis) plans to introduce legislation to create a new nine-member board that would oversee the local board. “This would be a management intervention,” White told Chalkbeat Tennessee.

Public education is under duress. The governor plans to spend nearly half a billion dollars a year offering private school vouchers to high-income parents. The Trump administration is prioritizing private “school choice” funding and gutting the U.S. Department of Education. Public schools are preparing for massive safety net cuts and immigration raids and conducting regular “active shooter drills.”

Meanwhile, schools and teachers continue to try to address the academic, social, and emotional needs of students traumatized by poverty, community violence, school shootings, and the pandemic. And constant political turmoil. 

David Waters, a veteran journalist, has covered public education in Memphis and Tennessee off and on for 30 years. He is associate director of the Institute for Public Service Reporting at the University of Memphis.

Categories
Opinion Viewpoint

Why Did the School Board Fire Feagins?

I’ve watched every school board meeting since Dr. Marie Feagins was elected superintendent of Memphis-Shelby County Schools a year ago.

I’ve read the board’s resolution that terminated her contract last month, and the special counsel’s 209-page investigation of the board’s allegations against her.

I’ve read Feagins’ written responses to the allegations in her two-page email to board chair Joyce Dorse-Coleman on Jan. 6, and her 14-page “official response” to the board Jan. 14. I’ve read Feagins’ startling allegations against the board in the lawsuit she filed Monday.

I’ve read every relevant document and heard every public statement made by all parties involved in the latest disaster that has befallen our local public school system. And I’ve read news articles, opinion columns, politicians’ comments, and angry social media posts about the sordid mess.

I still don’t get it. I still don’t understand why Feagins was fired after less than a year on the job.

The three examples of “professional misconduct” the board leveled against her might have justified a public reprimand, but not a public execution. At best, as six-year board member Michelle McKissack argued, they reflect  “growing pains” for a superintendent who started working in April and a board with four members elected in August. At worst, well, we don’t know.

In her lawsuit, Feagins claims that an expired $4 million contract with a local nonprofit caused some board members to begin meeting privately last summer in violation of state law to find ways to terminate her contract.

But the special counsel’s Jan. 21 report to the board doesn’t mention that contract at all. The report concluded that Feagins “violated her employment contract no less than eight times and deviated from Board policy on at least nine occasions.”

Six of the nine alleged policy “deviations” pertained to a single board policy — 1013, or the Superintendent Code of Ethics. That three-page policy, approved in 2017, contains 15 “statements of standards” the superintendent must follow, including: “I will endeavor to fulfill my professional responsibilities with honesty and integrity.”

Vague enough for you?

All eight alleged contract violations pertained to a single paragraph in her contract: “Ethical conduct: The superintendent in all aspects of her interactions and transactions related to carrying out her duties of superintendent, agrees to represent, enforce and adhere to the highest ethical standards.”

Whose ethical standards? Which ethical standards?

“I will point out,” McKissack wrote in a Jan. 13 letter to the board, “that Superintendent Feagins is not accused of theft, fraud or any criminal misconduct.”

What she is mostly accused of is making “false and/or misleading” statements to the board about the three allegations of “professional misconduct.” That covers 13 of the 17 alleged violations. The four other “violations” were attributed to Feagins’ failure to provide a document or report to the board in a timely manner.

Feagins said those failures were unintentional and the result of “staff oversights.” The record seems to support her version.

First, the termination resolution claims that Feagins “misled the board” about  “overtime abuse” she brought to the board’s attention last July. “Dr. Feagins never presented any evidence suggesting that her statement was true, and she did not correct or clarify her statement to the public,” the board’s first allegation reads.

But Feagins told the board last July and again this month that she based her comments on “documented fiscal reports” of overtime pay records for 2022, 2023, and 2024.

“I provided at least three years of data to the board,” Feagins said after hearing the charges read aloud at the Dec. 17 special called meeting. There are no records that the board ever asked for or reviewed the data or tried to substantiate Feagins’ claims about overtime abuse.

Second, the termination resolution claims that Feagins accepted and deposited a $45,000 donation to the district from the SchoolSeed Foundation “without Board approval.”

“At a (Nov. 19) Board Work Session, Dr. Feagins misrepresented her knowledge of and involvement in depositing the unapproved donation check in violation of Board Policy,” the board’s second allegation reads.

Feagins said she didn’t learn about the donation until Nov. 8, the result of “a staff oversight, and “promptly submitted the donation to the Board” at its next meeting, Nov. 19. 

The board approved the donation Dec. 3. Two weeks later, they used it to charge her with “professional misconduct.”

The special counsel’s report cites two emails Feagins sent to staff in July that “irrefutably establishes” she knew then about the check. But neither email mentions a $45,000 SchoolSeed check, which records show wasn’t received by the district until Aug. 13.

Third, the termination resolution claims that Feagins “was dishonest with the board and public” about missing a deadline for a $300,000 federal grant to help homeless students.

Feagins acknowledged that her staff failed to meet the Sept. 30 deadline, but said the state subsequently allowed the district to use the funds for various expenses related to helping homeless students.

“We missed the deadline,” she told the board Dec. 17. The board’s allegations and investigation do not say how much — if any — of the $300,000 grant (leftover Covid-relief funds) was used or forfeited.

The special counsel’s report to the board states that Feagins’ comments about the grant were “only accurate to a degree, but not completely.” That could sum up the board’s allegations. Only accurate to a degree, but not completely.

“Clerical errors,” McKissack called them at the Dec. 17 special board meeting. At least five board members at that meeting were clearly determined to fire Feagins. They didn’t explain why Feagins or board members in her corner didn’t see the resolution to fire her until a few minutes before that meeting. They didn’t respond to questions that Feagins or four other board members raised about the specific allegations in the resolution. They did raise a slew of other issues that weren’t in the resolution or the 209-page report.

Board member Sable Otey, elected Aug. 1, blamed Feagins for the suicidal thoughts of an educator in her district, and the firing of a teacher in her district. She also claimed teachers were texting her with complaints about the superintendent. She didn’t present any evidence of her claims, and they weren’t included in the resolution.

Board member Towanna Murphy, elected Aug. 1, blamed Feagins for the injury of a special needs child in her district, and for putting other special needs students at risk. She didn’t present any evidence of her claims, and they weren’t included in the resolution.

Board member Natalie McKinney, elected Aug. 1, accused Feagins of creating “a climate of fear and intimidation” in staff across the district. She didn’t present any evidence of her claims, and they weren’t included in the resolution.

Various board members blamed Feagins for the district’s problems receiving sufficient staff and materials for online learning, dual enrollment, remedial instruction, and student assessment. They didn’t present any evidence that Feagins was to blame, and those complaints weren’t included in the termination resolution.

Board member Amber Huett-Garcia, who also voted not to fire Feagins, said the complaints were “highlighting the woes of a district that is under-resourced [with] generational challenges” that began decades before Feagins arrived.

McKinney pushed back. “Our [board] seats have given us a bird’s-eye view of the working of the district,” McKinney said. “We see things the general public does not see.”

The general public still is not seeing those things. The superintendent works for the board, but the board works for the public. The board owes the public — not to mention Feagins, her staff, teachers and parents, and other public officials — a thorough, clear and compelling explanation for why she was fired.

There was a fourth and final accusation in the termination resolution.

“The board has also become aware of certain patterns of behavior by Dr. Feagins that are not conducive to the effective operation of the District in the best interests of students, including but not limited to her refusal to communicate and/or cooperate with valued District partners.”

That accusation was not included in the 209-page investigation, nor in the list of 17 alleged contract or policy violations. But I suspect it probably comes closest to explaining what went wrong.

Feagins could be prickly, curt, and dismissive, even in public board meetings, in stark contrast to her predecessor Joris Ray who resigned under a cloud in 2022. At board meetings, Ray was unfailingly polite and solicitous, usually thanking board members profusely and formally by title and name for each and every question. His staff members did the same. Ray began meetings by asking his staff to join him in reciting aloud the district’s motto: “Together we must believe. Together we can achieve. Together we are reimagining 901.” 

Feagins didn’t have a motto or lead a cheer. Her responses to board members’ questions were more direct and could include a cold stare or a disdainful “for the record” or “let the record show.”

I suspect that Feagins was fired because a majority of board members didn’t like her, didn’t like how she was managing the district, and were getting complaints from central staff administrators, principals, local nonprofit leaders, and favored local contractors.

They were being told that Feagins was moving too fast and going too far and stepping on too many toes in her efforts to restructure the district to address the loss of Covid funding and to give classroom teachers more support and more authority.

But that’s just speculation. Just about everything you’ve read or heard about why Feagins was fired is speculation.

Feagins has called the allegations against her “meritless and baseless.” Monday, she sued the school board and asked the court to void the board’s 6-3 vote to fire her. In the lawsuit, Feagins claims that Greene, Dorse-Coleman and several other board members violated the state’s open meetings law by meeting secretly beginning in August to plan ways to terminate her contract.

It’s likely the litigation will end with a quiet, off-the-record settlement much like Ray’s agreement to resign in 2022. Which means the public may never know exactly why Feagins was fired.

So now the school board is at odds and searching for its sixth superintendent since the 2013 merger upended the entire system. The county is discussing ways to take over the school budget. The state is threatening to take over the school board.

Meanwhile, public education is under duress.

The governor plans to spend nearly half a billion dollars a year offering private school vouchers to high-income parents. The Trump administration is prioritizing private “school choice” funding. Public schools are preparing for massive safety net cuts and immigration raids, in addition to regular “active shooter drills.”

Meanwhile, schools and teachers continue to try to address the academic, social, and emotional needs of students traumatized by poverty, community violence, school shootings, and the pandemic.

And constant political turmoil.

David Waters, a veteran journalist, has covered public education in Memphis and Tennessee off and on for 30 years. He is associate director of the Institute for Public Service Reporting at the University of Memphis.

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Safety Net Advocates Bracing for Big Cuts in Medicaid, Food Stamps

This story was originally published by the Institute for Public Service Reporting Memphis.

When Ashlie Bell-Seibers hears about congressional plans to slash Medicaid spending, she thinks about children she knows in Tennessee.

Children like Asher, 12, who sees 17 specialists and who is able to live and be cared for at home because she receives special coverage through TennCare, the state’s Medicaid program.

Then there’s Claire, age 10, who was born with a rare genetic condition that required life-saving open-heart surgery covered by TennCare.

And Aundrea, 8, one of three children in her family with hearing loss, Her growing body requires new and expensive hearing aids covered by TennCare.

Trip, who died at age 2, and whose chemotherapy treatments were covered by TennCare.

“He would have suffered more and died sooner without those treatments,” said Bell-Seibers, who works to support children and youth with special healthcare needs as director of Family Voices of Tennessee at the Tennessee Disability Coalition in Nashville.

Bell-Seibers and other safety net advocates are bracing for severe cuts in federal programs that provide food and health care to millions of lower-income adults and children in Tennessee.

Republican congressional leaders are looking for $2.5 trillion in budget cuts to pay for tax cuts for wealthier individuals and corporations, among other priorities of the incoming Trump administration.

Two of the largest targets seem to be Medicaid (called TennCare here) and SNAP (formerly called food stamps).

“These are massive cuts, bigger than anything we’ve ever encountered,” Gordon Bonnyman, staff attorney and co-founder of the Tennessee Justice Center (TJC) in Nashville, told dozens of safety net advocates in a zoom meeting last week. “They’re going to happen very fast and they’re going to hurt a lot of people.”

Bonnyman said the massive budget cuts will be “camouflaged” in the arcane congressional budget reconciliation process, which is “filibuster-proof,” requiring the approval of a simple majority of members of Congress.

“There are infinite and complex ways for Congress to cut safety net programs without calling them cuts,” Bonnyman said. “Any significant cuts will hurt people.”

Some programs already have been cut.

Four days before Christmas, Congress declined to extend a program that allowed states to replace stolen SNAP benefits with federal funds.

SNAP benefits are delivered on cards with magnetic stripes (and not more secure microchips) that are vulnerable to skimming. States have replaced more than $150 million in stolen benefits since January 2023. More than 11,000 Tennessee families have had their benefits stolen.

“Punishing Tennessee families who are the unwitting victims of crime is exactly the sort of government inefficiency that Donald Trump and his team vowed to root out,” said Signe Anderson, TJC’s senior director of nutrition services.

Punishing Tennessee families who are the unwitting victims of crime is exactly the sort of government inefficiency that Donald Trump and his team vowed to root out.

Signe Anderson, Tennessee Justice Center’s senior director of nutrition services.

The TJC and other advocates filed a lawsuit in federal court Tuesday to hold Tennessee’s Department of Human Services “accountable for its persistent failure to determine eligibility for SNAP benefits on time, in violation of federal law, resulting in significant harm to low-income households.”

Last summer, a federal judge in Nashville found that the state unlawfully terminated Medicaid coverage for tens of thousands of poor families and violated their rights. “Poor, disabled, and otherwise disadvantaged Tennesseans should not require luck, perseverance, and zealous lawyering to receive healthcare benefits they are entitled to under the law,” U.S. Dist. Judge Waverly D. Crenshaw wrote.

Meanwhile, advocates also are working to persuade Gov. Bill Lee to reverse his decision to forfeit federal funds for a program that provides free summer meals for up to 700,000 Tennessee children.

The Summer EBT program provides eligible families who have school-age children with a debit card preloaded with $40 a month per child. The card can only be used to buy food in June, July and August.

In a statement from Lee’s office, the governor said the Summer EBT program is a “pandemic-era” program that is “mostly duplicative.” He blamed “administrative cost burdens” as the reason he chose “not to renew our participation.”

But Congress made the program permanent in 2023. Tennessee received $78 million in federal funds for summer EBT last year and spent $5.7 million administering the program. Lee rejected $1.1 million in federal funds that could have been used to offset state costs this summer.

In a letter to Lee last week, U.S. Rep. Steve Cohen (D-Memphis), asked the governor to opt back into the Summer EBT program by the Feb. 15 deadline.

“Feeding our children is not just a matter of public policy,” Cohen wrote. “It is a moral imperative. Well-nourished children are better able to learn, grow, and lead healthy, well-adjusted lives.”

Summer EBT is a nutrition program run by the U.S. Department of Agriculture, which also runs the much larger Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, or SNAP, formerly known as food stamps.

SNAP costs the federal government about $110 billion a year. It’s one of the federal government’s largest entitlement programs, and one of the largest targets for budget cuts.

“It is also the most effective anti-hunger program in the U.S.,” Anderson said.

In Tennessee last year, SNAP benefits — which average $180 a month per household — helped about 820,000 residents, or about 12 percent of the state’s population.

Seventy-one percent are families with children. Thirty-five percent are seniors or disabled adults. Thirty-seven percent are working adults.

Medicaid, one of the largest non-military programs in the federal budget, seems to be the most vulnerable target for massive budget cuts in Washington.

Medicaid is a joint federal-state program that covers acute and long-term health care for groups of people with low income, primarily families with dependent children, elderly people (65 or older), and nonelderly people with disabilities.

One in five Tennesseans rely on Medicaid (TennCare) for healthcare and for protection from medical bankruptcy. That includes half of the state’s children, nearly two-thirds of the state’s nursing home residents, and half of pregnant mothers.

TennCare is the principal source of funding for rural healthcare, including drug and mental health treatment and prevention.

“We need to keep reminding lawmakers what these programs do for not just us, but what they do for the success of all Americans. Before these programs get cut, the time to remind lawmakers is right now,” said Jeff Strand, director of public policy for the Tennessee Disability Coalition.

The federal government spends more than $600 billion on Medicaid each year. States add another $200 billion.

Tennessee spends about $1.4 billion on TennCare, an amount exceeded only by K-12 public education.

Republican congressional leaders are looking at several options for reducing Medicaid’s overall cost.

• Imposing a “per capita cap”, a limit on total funding per enrollee, on federal Medicaid funding. Each state would be assigned its own initial per capita cap based on the state’s current or historical spending. That amount would be set to increase each year, but at a rate below the growth in per capita health care spending. Thus, the cuts would increase over time.

• Turning Medicaid into a block grant program. States would receive a fixed dollar amount each year that wouldn’t adjust for changes in enrollment. Currently, federal funding automatically increases as enrollment or costs increase at the state level. The Congressional Budget Office estimates the caps would cut federal spending by between $450 billion and $900 billion over nine years.

• Reducing “provider taxes” states can impose on hospitals, nursing homes and other health care providers as well as on Medicaid managed care plans. States use the taxes to offset their own costs for administering Medicaid programs. Restricting those taxes would force states to cut Medicaid enrollments and programs.

“These proposals would dramatically change Medicaid’s funding structure, deeply cut federal funding, and shift costs and financial risks to states,” the nonpartisan Center for Budget and Policy Priorities reported last week. “Faced with large and growing reductions in federal funding, states would cut eligibility and benefits, leaving millions of people without health coverage and access to needed care.”

“These proposals would dramatically change Medicaid’s funding structure, deeply cut federal funding, and shift costs and financial risks to states,” the nonpartisan Center for Budget and Policy Priorities reported last week. “Faced with large and growing reductions in federal funding, states would cut eligibility and benefits, leaving millions of people without health coverage and access to needed care.”

Safety net cuts could be especially damaging in Tennessee, where Medicaid is one of several social safety-net programs that the state doesn’t fully fund.

As the Institute for Public Service Reporting showed last year, those extra funds could have reduced the state’s child poverty rate by more than a third and the overall poverty rate by more than a quarter. That translates to about 90,000 fewer children under age 18 living in poverty in Tennessee.

In Nashville, Bell-Seibers wonders how many more children and adults she knows will lose access to health care in the coming months and years.

She also thinks about her own childhood battle with pediatric cancer and where she might be today without TennCare.

“TennCare saved my life,” she said. “TennCare allowed me to grow up and become a first-generation college student. TennCare allowed me to break the cycle of poverty in my family.”