Source: http://signonsandiego.com/news/northcounty/jenkins/20080302-9999-1mc2jenkins.html
UNION-TRIBUNE
March 2, 2008
If I must die someday - and empirical evidence suggests it's highly likely - I want to come back to life as an embattled school superintendent.
In the various jobs I've held, getting sideways with the boss has always been a bad, if not devastating, prospect.
From what I've observed, losing your job for cause can seriously compromise your chances of a financially secure life.
Not so in the upper echelons of education. In this rarefied atmosphere, getting fired can be a really good thing.
Built into a typical superintendent's contract is the explicit understanding that parting, even under openly hostile terms, will be sour sorrow for taxpayers but a sweet payoff to the departing Mr. Chips.
Consider Tom Bishop, the 10-year superintendent of Del Mar Union School District.
After overseeing a successful era of expansion, Bishop in recent years developed into a divisive lightning rod. Critics considered him impulsive and high-handed. Flash points such as boundary changes and the attempted sale of school land in downtown Del Mar proved his undoing, observers say.
Loyalists, on the other hand, many of them teachers, thought he supervised on water.
In the 2006 election, the board changed majorities. Bishop's days were clearly numbered. Last week, during an emotional meeting, many of his supporters vented their grief.
To no avail. Bishop was let go with a promise to pay him $300,000, or roughly 18 months' pay plus perks.
Bishop's pro forma settlement parallels the 2006 deal enjoyed by former San Marcos Unified Superintendent Ed Brand, who alienated his board after one year but collected $400,000 in walking-away money.
In this circle, getting fired sure beats working.
Fortunately, Del Mar has money to burn. Five mil's in the bank. The district's aggressive foundation fills gaps.
In the post-Bishop era, Del Mar students are going to be fine. Their advantages in life aren't going anywhere. They'll continue to whale on standardized tests because, well, because they're generally from affluent families.
As most educators will concede, good scores reflect bank accounts more than anything else.
For teachers, however, the keening for Bishop will persist. He was their champion when it came to high salaries and reduced teaching hours. They, in turn, were his loyal base of support.
No wonder many Del Mar teachers showed up to tear their hair and rend their clothes when the board voted to get rid of him.
But to be honest, they were crying for themselves, not for Bishop, who was floating into the Del Mar sunset on a golden-air balloon. All around North County, teachers are facing layoffs. Their deals won't be so good.
Aside from the money, what I admire most about superintendent severance deals is the psychologically reassuring promise that no one involved will ever say anything bad about anyone else. Trustees are doling out our money, mind you, but they just can't divulge those devilish details.
Lawyers call this outbreak of genteel manners the "nondisparagement clause."
Here's how it works: Everyone agrees to throw pixie dust over the whole nasty episode. After throwing daggers at each other for months, the players are magically transformed into mute Stepford trustees.
You saw it in San Marcos, where board members smiled through their teeth and refused to explain why Brand, formerly the super of Sweetwater, was let go after a year.
Aside from the dollars and the pixie dust, there's another reason not to weep 'n' wail for Bishop.
If he doesn't want to retire, Bishop, 58, can probably find a job at another district while savoring the infusion of Del Mar dollars.
After the expansion (and affluence-driven academic success) he's overseen, his stock is no doubt high. He'll have a Google record trailing behind him, of course, but self-confident boards will be impressed with his record of achievement. Chances are, Bishop will negotiate an even higher starting salary.
You have to love it.
Superintendents wear out their welcome - and hit pay dirt.
Setting a ridiculously high bar in this rewarding end game is MiraCosta College's former President Victoria Muñoz Richart.
Richart helped make a mess of things during the infamous Palmgate scandal and then, in exchange for leaving campus, demanded (and received!) $1.6 million, $650,000 of it in punitive damages.
On Friday, Richart endured the indignity of a deposition in a citizen's lawsuit attempting to recoup a portion of that over-the-top walking-away money.
If there's any justice, Richart may wind up wishing she'd played by the same lavish, but perfectly legal, rules Bishop and Brand did.
- Logan Jenkins: (760) 737-7555; logan.jenkins@uniontrib.com
|