The Sad Story of Mr. Gilley and Ms. Reed
It was arguably the local news story of the year (at least until the Florida game). For a few months, you almost couldn't have a conversation in this city without someone eventually saying the names "Gilley" and "Reed," and then it was all downhill from there.
It was all downhill for the people attached to those names, erstwhile UT President J. Wade Gilley and his, ahem, special assistant Pamela Reed (who claimed so many different titles at different times that we frankly aren't sure what to call her). It started as a whisper campaign during the winter, that there was something (nudge nudge, wink wink) going on between our state university's seemingly mild-mannered prez and a certain administrator who had made startling progress via a series of rapid promotions. By the time intrepid News-Sentinel reporter David Keim got done flushing out and (ewww....) fleshing out the story—most notably via a series of private emails that made national news for their coy tone and racy content—Gilley and Reed had both resigned their posts amid much embarrassed coughing in Andy Holt Tower. Collateral damage included Knoxville mover and shaker Bill Sansom, who along with fellow mover and shaker Jim Haslam had personally sought out and hired Gilley. When Sansom's term on the UT Board of Trustees expired this summer, it was pointedly not renewed by Gov. Don Sundquist.
The trustees designated longtime UT finance guy Eli Fly as interim president and launched a still-ongoing search for a Gilley successor. Gilley himself left town quickly and never looked back. Not so the undauntable Ms. Reed, who, presenting herself as a misunderstood victim, broke into tears opposite Lori Tucker on Channel 6 and posed covered in roses American Beauty-style for the cover of CityView magazine. (For the record, Metro Pulse turned down a Reed exclusive early on.) The biggest unanswered question of l'affaire Gilley, however, is this: why are UT Trustees more embarrassed by a little administrative hanky-panky than by the school's chronic lack of academic resources and spiraling tuition?
UT's Decade of Decadence
A year ago it looked as if the University of Tennessee was finally on a path toward recovering some of the academic ground it has lost over the past decade. To help stop faculty erosion and start bringing salaries back in line with more progressive Southern states, the state Legislature in 2000 approved a $90 million increase in funding for higher education. This was supposed to be the first installment of a five-year, $440 million step-up that would enable UT to do things like match the 6 percent annual raises that Georgia and Mississippi have instituted in their efforts to retain and recruit good faculty.
At the same time, the Legislature pledged $30 million over four years toward funding a Centers of Excellence initiative that was supposed to vault UT into the ranks of the top 25 public research universities in the land. But after the first round of raises were awarded and nine centers of excellence selected with much fanfare, the wheels of progress came to a screeching halt.
This year's session of the Legislature ignored Gov. Don Sundquist's recommendation to put an additional $92 million into higher ed and even reneged on the $7.5 million previously pledged for year two of the centers of excellence program.
By raising tuition 15 percent, primarily to fund salary increases, and by allocating the proceeds of the sale of UT Medical Center to the centers of excellence, UT's Board of Trustees managed to keep the wheels from coming completely off. But after tuition increases totaling 67 percent over the past five years, there's not much room to go back to that well again without pushing the cost of a UT education far higher than our sister states. And unless the Legislature makes good on its commitment to the centers of excellence, their future is in grave jeopardy.
Charles in Charge?
It was a mixed year for Knox County School Superintendent Charles Q. Lindsey, who built a strong base of support internally while appearing to alienate pretty much everyone else. Fulfilling the predictions of those who feared that an appointed schools chief would cater only to his immediate employers on the school board rather than the community as a whole, Lindsey stepped up his relentless assault on County Commission, repeatedly accusing the funding body of failing to support the school system. This played well with a majority of school board members, who have a Bearden-sized chip on their shoulders about their relationship with the purse-string holders on Commission. And it played predictably badly on Commission, fueling dueling legal threats between the bodies (see Government/Politics). Although there's plenty of mud to go around, Lindsey may end up as the biggest target, especially with five of the nine school board seats up for election next year. At least one incumbent isn't running—board Chairman Jim McClain—and some of the others have already drawn strong challengers, who aren't likely to feel too attached to Lindsey.
Audit Glitters, Isn't Gold
So this is what you get for $400,000? That was the first reaction on hearing that the major conclusion of Houston-based consultant McConnell, Jones, Lanier & Murphy's multi-month study of Knox County schools was that the school board had a troubled relationship with County Commission. Oh.
Beyond that bit of insight, the report did make some interesting recommendations. Most significant was its call for better supervision of the school system's finances. The school board responded by hiring a couple of new people but not making any major changes—which means that the finances of a $280 million-plus organization remain under the supervision of a former high school principal and football coach. Maybe not for much longer, however—at year-end, a series of financial snafus with state funding and attendance figures had voices across the local political spectrum clamoring for change.
Class Struggles
What is a "world class" school? Well, from Superintendent Charles Lindsey's long-promised template, which finally emerged in September, it would appear to be pretty much like a current Knox County school, except with more money and better teachers. (It originally went by the name "internationally competitive," but got shortened—presumably because nobody knew what the heck "internationally competitive" meant.) Lindsey estimates that the template—which calls for everything from expanded pre-school services to merit pay at high-performing schools—would cost $44 million in new funds to implement the first year, and $35 million a year after that. He's currently touring the county, along with school board members and administrators, trying to generate public feedback and enthusiasm for the plan. If, as seems likely, County Commission is resistant to funding anything with Lindsey's name on it, the supe has said he'll push for a funding referendum.
December 20, 2001 * Vol. 11, No. 51
© 2001 Metro Pulse
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Education