There’s an old saying that no matter how bad things are, they’re usually worse somewhere else. When it comes to Mississippi schools, Chickasaw County may be that somewhere else.
Located just south of Tupelo, Chickasaw County is a rural area of 17,000 people nestled around the Tombigbee National Forest. In spite of its low population, the county has three school districts, and Republicans in the state Legislature have set their sights on merging the districts to reduce administrative salaries.
It’s an understatement to say that the proposal has gone over poorly. In the 2016 session, a Democratic representative convinced his peers to appoint a study commission this year instead of mandating the merger. But the nine-member panel recently reported to Jackson that no one in Chickasaw County wants the districts to merge, and that all are convinced losing local control of their school would be harmful.
On the surface, the idea that 17,000 people can’t reach even a modest degree of education consensus is preposterous. The county’s population dictates that it needs no more than one school district. Many other rural communities get by just fine with a single district.
But a little digging offers possible reasons for Chickasaw County’s resistance. As is typical of Mississippi, it involves racial issues and small-town resentments that go back decades.
For example, the county has two courthouses just 20 miles apart; one in Okolona, the other in Houston. Ten counties in the state have two county seats, and in Chickasaw County, maybe this is a signal that the towns have a long history of infighting — to the point that county supervisors let both have their way.
The school populations are different as well. The Okolona School District has 690 students and is about 96 percent black, while the Houston district, with 1,780 students, is split evenly, 45 percent each of black and white students, with the remaining 10 percent Hispanic. The Chickasaw County district is the smallest, with only 500 students, but has the highest white enrollment, 58 percent.
Okolona’s concern clearly is being absorbed into a larger, mixed-race district. The objections are such that the superintendent has threatened to ask the U.S. Justice Department to block a merger because the district is still under a federal desegregation order. This strategy, of course, ignores the fact that with a 96 percent black enrollment, the desegregation order has already worked its magic in Okolona.
But it’s not just Okolona that wants to stay separate. The nine-member commission trying to figure out how to consolidate the districts could not even agree on where the merged district’s main office should be. One meeting of the group turned into a shouting match, with commissioners threatening to attack each other.
Republicans in the Legislature seem intent on a Chickasaw County school merger in 2017. It’s hard to blame them when the three districts all told have less than 3,000 students.
But the larger point is that other rural counties with multiple school districts had better be ready to defend their setup when lawmakers come calling at some point in the future.
It’s not hard to imagine Pike County’s three school districts putting up a Chickasaw-style fight against a proposed merger. The rivalries between McComb, North Pike and South Pike are real, extending far beyond the sports arenas.
However, Republicans are determined to drive down the cost of government, and one way to do it is through merging school districts. It may take a decade or two, but that bus will come calling in Pike County one day.
There’s one thing schools can do to fend off mergers: Deliver excellent results. If they needed it, this merger talk gives districts one more incentive to perform well.
