Leaders' silence comes at a cost

Trust in local government begins with open communication.

Thriving communities are built on two-way discussion: thoughts from leaders meet thoughts from the public, blending to pave the way for the future. But when that exchange falters, confusion fills the gap.

Monday’s Burke County Board of Education meeting made that clear.

As the board discussed a potential relocation of Hallyburton Academy, the county’s singular alternative school, to an isolated wing within Draughn High School, it quickly became evident that the issue wasn’t just the move itself — it was how the public learned about it.

The controversial discussion followed weeks of public discussion and speculation, particularly on social media, of a faculty meeting between Draughn and Hallyburton staff.

When the topic reached the board table on Monday, comments and concerns from parents had reached a tipping point, eliciting emotional responses from school board members.

It was the failure to communicate responsibly that layered on the tension, as demonstrated when Board Chair Tiana Beachler spotlighted the “vitriol” in social media comments and board member Reid Beck stressed his frustration that parents had heard about the potential relocation faculty meeting before he did.

While it’s completely within the superintendent’s authority to make administrative decisions such as relocating a school, board members like Leslie Taylor didn’t care for the faculty-first approach that spurred the rumors, claiming that it wasn’t how she felt the board should be represented — lacking order and transparency.

Even as Taylor and Beck criticized Swan’s actions, Beachler defended the decisions and the faculty meeting, saying they were “appropriately handled at the administrative level” and that a viable plan would have been brought to the board when one was ready.

Beachler’s position: throughout all the miscommunication clean-up, Hallyburton students were getting “drug through the mud.”

As the board weighs the relocation decision, questions about who should be informed first and when the school board should vote overshadow what is best for students at both schools.

How should parents be given a platform for questions and answers? Where does the board’s authority end and the superintendent’s begin?

If the board votes on the matter, it must first divest the superintendent of his authority to relocate a school program from one campus to another.

Even as a one-time divestment, what would that signal to parents and faculty about his ability to lead?

As Swan prepares suggested dates and times for a public forum on the matter at the Olive Hill Resource Center, the board and school officials must evaluate their approach to a clear, well-defined process for communication.

With declining enrollment and more parents taking advantage of Opportunity Scholarships to send their children to private schools, the board and administrators need to proactively show parents that they are acting in their children’s best interest and not simply reacting to public pressure.

The haphazard, poorly executed communication strategy exemplified by the Hallyburton-Draughn project is another example of what happens when leadership is less than thorough and transparent: the message gets lost in the resulting turmoil.

Case in point: The Great Meadows, a.k.a. Megasite, endeavor. Public education and proactive outreach by elected leaders were so ineffective that the project migrated from a state-level, once-in-a-generation economic opportunity to one so loaded with opposition, protests, petitions, and robust speculation that it never had a chance.

That project suddenly disappeared from public view as if redacted. In its place, the speculative building at the long-forgotten Burke Business Park popped up. Complete with transfers of millions of dollars to the new building of funds initially earmarked for the Megasite.

Taxpayers and voters still don’t clearly know the whys and wherefores of that maneuver.

This month, Valdese nearly encountered the wrath of poor communication. Town officials are considering removing fluoride from the town’s water system. The decision is pending a vote next week. The question was buried in the Consent Agenda portion of the council’s agenda, meaning there would be no debate of the issue. Valdese residents complained that a change that could impact public health deserves a greater conversation, and not be relegated to the Consent Agenda, which is typically constructed of routine items.

The outcry from residents was sufficient enough that, within two days, the item was removed from Consent Agenda and assigned a stand-alone slot.

Glen Alpine had a similar fumble last week.

On March 23, town officials posted a Special Meeting Notice on Facebook, an announcement that was vaguely worded and left residents wondering what the true purpose of the March 25 meeting was. Mayor Kevin Herron attempted to calm the waters with a post of his own. His explanation of the meeting’s intent fell short of satisfying concerns. Questions still lingered. One frustrated resident who attended the meeting asked point-blank why the aldermen had assembled.

Uncertainty breeds suspicion, and suspicion erodes trust. Once suspicion takes hold, facts arrive too late to do much good.

The lesson for every elected board, superintendent, and town council in Burke County is the same: when leaders do not tell the story clearly, the public will write its own version, filling the gaps with whatever information fits the bill.

If officials want the trust of the people, they must stop treating communication as an afterthought and start treating it as part of the status quo. Not after the backlash. Not after the rumors. At the beginning, where trust is either built or broken.