Why I Decided to Return to Tulsa and Work in Public Education
More to come on all the topics discussed, but consider this an appetizer.
It's been a while since my last update, and I wanted to give some more details on some big developments. After completing my MBA at Carnegie Mellon's Tepper School of Business, I've decided to return to Tulsa, Oklahoma to work in public education by joining the district strategy team at Tulsa Public Schools. This decision wasn't made lightly, may seem unconventional to many of my peers, and frankly was not something I totally expected to happen. But I believe it's the right choice for me, and I feel compelled to share why. I will likely have more to say on all the topics below in more detail in the coming months, including the job and just other thoughts and experiences I’d like to share, but here is a starting point.
If you have any comments, questions, or thoughts on the topics, shoot me a note at directcommentary@gmail.com. If we get enough questions, who knows??? I do love myself a mailbag!!!
The Tree
In February 2023, during my first year at Carnegie Mellon University, I attended a guest speaker event featuring Anya Kamenetz, a former NPR education reporter. She was discussing her new book (at the time), "The Stolen Year," about the COVID-19 pandemic's impact on K-12 education in the US.
As a former teacher who taught for three years in the heart of the pandemic, much of the information wasn't new to me. However, one segment of her presentation - in fact, the final part - struck a chord so deep it still resonates with me today. On the screen were two photos: the first, a photo of grass (perhaps previously stepped on); the second, a tree growing to the side (perhaps bent by the wind or some other force).
Kamenetz was explaining some sociological commentary on how peoples’ response to trauma could be paralleled to the difference between how grass and trees respond to external forces, like the wind. Some people, she said, are like grass - resilient and flexible, they bend under pressure but ultimately spring back to their original form. They're able to rebuild themselves, returning to who they were before the trauma.
Sometimes, however, the trauma we endure changes us akin to the tree, a force that buffets and shapes us. The tree's growth is altered, its new shape a very testament to what it's endured. Yet, importantly, these trees don't just survive - they learn to thrive with these irreversible changes, growing in new directions and developing unique strengths.
As I sat there, listening to Kamenetz's words, a realization washed over me: I am the tree. My time teaching in Tulsa had bent me, shaped me in ways I was still discovering. For so long, I had desperately wanted to be the grass - to bounce back, to return to who I was before. But the truth is, teaching was the most formative experience of my life, and it had changed me irrevocably.
Those three years in the classroom were challenging, frightening, and at times, scarring. I found myself in situations I was emotionally unprepared to handle, dealing with issues that I, in my immaturity, struggled to process. The weight of responsibility, the daily challenges, the feeling of never doing enough - it all took a toll that I'm still coming to terms with.
Even as I sat in that auditorium at Carnegie Mellon, I was grappling with the aftermath of my teaching experience. I had come to business school partly to escape, to find a new path. But the memories, the unresolved feelings, the sense of unfinished business - it all followed me. I was struggling emotionally, not having a great time, and had started therapy to work through these issues.
This metaphor offered a new perspective: perhaps the goal wasn't to revert to my pre-teaching self, but to recognize how those experiences had shaped me and to find ways to grow from there. The process of coming to peace with the experience, of forgiving myself for what I perceived as failures, of recognizing the growth that came from those challenging years - this was all part of learning to thrive as the 'tree' I had become.
This realization didn't immediately solve all my problems or erase my doubts. But it gave me a framework to understand my journey, to see my experiences not as something to overcome, but as an integral part of who I was becoming. It was the first step in a process of self-acceptance and renewed purpose that ultimately led me back to education.
Some Thoughts on Business School
Two caveats before I continue: a) this is my perspective, shaped by my experiences and undoubtedly influenced by my own biases and blind spots. I'm not claiming moral superiority or suggesting there aren't totally different and valid paths. b) This is just one lens of my MBA experience. There are more things I want to share about my MBA experience that were enriching, enlightening and energizing, and I will do so at another time.
My time in business school was more challenging than I had anticipated. The culture shock was significant. Coming from an education background, I found myself in an environment that often felt at odds with my values. I think I experienced what I can only best describe right now as reverse imposter syndrome. It wasn't that I felt I didn't deserve to be there; rather, I increasingly felt I was in the wrong place altogether – that this wasn't for me. But that realization didn't come easily or immediately, and I'm still trying to process the experience.
I came into business school ready to pivot from my educational career and to leave Tulsa behind. I threw myself into the MBA experience, determined to explore every avenue. I interviewed at McKinsey, did a super-day for investment banking at Bank of America, and went through the motions at all those companies you’ve probably seen in the WSJ one time or another. But the more I engaged with these potential futures, the more I understood that they came with a set of values and a lifestyle I wasn't comfortable adopting.
The banking and consulting worlds, for instance, weren't just jobs. They represented a highly specific way of life - one that prioritized a certain kind of success, demanded near-constant availability, and seemed to require a comfort with the idea that your work might not have a direct, positive impact on people's lives. It wasn't just about long hours or high pressure; it was about what you were expected to value and how you were expected to live.
This realization didn't come as a sudden epiphany. It was a slow burn, fueled by countless conversations with classmates and alumni, by observing the lives of those a few years ahead on these paths, and by honest self-reflection about what I wanted my day-to-day life to look like.
Despite sincere efforts to diversify MBA admissions, people I met within the context of business school and top-ranked national MBA programs often felt homogeneous in terms of professional background. Most of my classmates came from corporate environments - finance, consulting, or tech. Very few could relate to my experiences in education, and these differences were particularly stark when discussing issues like the impact of COVID-19. For me, the pandemic had been a period of intense challenge and moral reckoning as an educator; I was that tree that was irreversibly changed. In our classes, however, it was primarily discussed in terms of short-term market disruptions or remote work adaptations; they were grass that had bent back into form.
It was a struggle to reconcile the valuable skills I was gaining with the growing realization that the lifestyle and values associated with many post-MBA careers didn't align with what I wanted for my life. As I explored different paths, I found myself constantly returning to my experiences in education. Not out of comfort, but because that work aligned more closely with how I wanted to spend my time and energy. The challenges in education - systemic inequities, resource constraints, the need for innovative solutions - still felt urgent and meaningful to me in a way that optimizing corporate strategies or increasing shareholder value simply didn't.
A New Chapter in Tulsa
It feels like Tulsa is starting a new chapter. With a new superintendent at the helm of our biggest public school district and a mayoral election on the horizon, there's a palpable sense of possibility in the air. It's within this context of change and renewed energy that I've found myself drawn back to education, now as part of the district strategy team at Tulsa Public Schools.
This role has immersed me in the complex, fascinating world of education management in one of the nation's 150 largest school districts. Tulsa's educational landscape is a microcosm of broader national challenges - we're racially and socioeconomically diverse (with a significant growing population of new immigrants) against a complex backdrop of public, charter, and private schooling options.
What makes this moment particularly exciting is the arrival of our new superintendent, Dr. Ebony Johnson. My role on the district strategy team puts me at the intersection of pretty much most departments. It's a position that demands both analytical rigor and a deep understanding of the human elements at play - we're grappling with critical challenges like improving literacy rates, addressing chronic absenteeism, and bolstering teacher retention. My boss has even described us as internal consultants for TPS (hopefully you didn’t shudder at the terminology).
In my role on the district strategy team at Tulsa Public Schools, my primary focus is on executing the district's strategic plan. This five-year plan, approved by the school board in 2022, outlines specific goals and metrics by which the district's performance – and by extension, Dr. Johnson's effectiveness as superintendent – is assessed. My work involves translating these high-level goals into actionable strategies, monitoring progress, and making data-driven recommendations for adjustments when needed. Additionally, we're tasked with developing long-term strategies to address persistent challenges in the district, such as those previously mentioned.
I'm not naive about the scale of these challenges, but I'm also not catastrophizing. I acknowledge the real obstacles, barriers, and earned skepticism around our district. At the same time, if I wasn’t hopeful about the potential, I probably wouldn’t have taken this job. I'm excited by the prospect of applying data-driven approaches to these issues, of finding innovative solutions that can make a real difference in student outcomes.
Another aspect of this work that I particularly enjoy is engaging with different stakeholders across the district. From students to teachers and principals to parents and community leaders, I'm constantly learning about what makes people tick, what challenges they face, and what solutions they envision. Drawing connections between these diverse perspectives and our strategic initiatives is intellectually stimulating, crucial to our success, and helps me feel more connected to a range of people across our school network and city.
Moreover, this role is exposing me to a range of adjacent fields that I find fascinating. I'm diving into edtech solutions, exploring data analytics in an educational context, and grappling with policy issues that have implications far beyond Tulsa. It's building my capacity in ways I hadn't anticipated, preparing me for future challenges in education management or policy.
This role feels like a natural culmination of my experiences - it demands the analytical rigor I honed during my MBA, combined with the ground-level understanding of educational challenges I gained as a teacher. What energizes me most is the team I'm working with. These are people I've known of and respected for years, individuals deeply committed to education and public service, and who I’m really excited to learn from. The culture they've established is collaborative and driven, with a shared sense of purpose that's infectious.
The Bigger Picture: Education, Purpose, and Society
What's particularly fascinating to me is how this work in education intersects with broader questions of governance and public trust. In a time when many institutions are losing public trust, I believe that by demonstrating competence and achieving tangible results in our schools, we can rebuild faith not just in education, but in the idea that public institutions can work effectively for the common good.
It's striking how K-12 education has largely faded from the national conversation, even as we find ourselves in the midst of another election cycle. While higher education rightly remains a critical area for reform that’s receiving quite a bit of attention, the relative silence on K-12 issues is both puzzling and concerning. Education reform, once a hot-button issue that sparked fierce debates and innovative thinking, seems to have lost its champions on the national level. This is particularly perplexing given that in my view K-12 education has never been more ripe for disruption, especially in the wake of COVID-19's seismic impact on our educational landscape.
The question we should be grappling with is: what do we want public education to be in the 21st century? This isn't just about test scores or college readiness - it's about reimagining the very purpose and structure of our educational system in a rapidly changing world.
I would argue that increased funding for K-12 education is necessary, but it's far from sufficient. We need a comprehensive vision for governance and management that can transform our schools into more dynamic, adaptive institutions. This vision must go beyond improving metrics like test scores or attendance rates. It should focus on creating environments where talented individuals - both students and educators - can thrive, innovate, and see the tangible impact of their work.
We're living in an era where many feel disconnected and adrift, searching for a sense of purpose that extends beyond the daily grind. This isn't just about individual fulfillment; it's about the fabric of our society. People are looking to relieve this sense of chronic loneliness and need an assurance that somebody out there cares about them and is listening to them.
Public education, when done right, can address these profound needs. It's not just about imparting knowledge; it's about creating a shared narrative that binds us together. Our schools can serve as anchors in communities, fostering connections across diverse backgrounds and giving people a tangible way to contribute to something larger than themselves.
For students, we aim to provide more than just academic skills – we want to help them discover their potential and place in the world. This means creating environments where they can explore their interests, develop critical thinking skills, and learn to engage with different perspectives. It's about equipping them not just for jobs, but for citizenship and a sense of agency in shaping their communities.
For educators and administrators, this work offers the opportunity to shape the future in real, tangible ways. It's about more than test scores or college admissions; it's about nurturing the next generation of thinkers, doers, and leaders. In a world often consumed by negativity and short-term thinking, education offers a chance to focus on long-term, positive change.
This is why I've chosen to dedicate myself to public education at this critical juncture. It's challenging, often messy work, but it's also profoundly meaningful. I’m part of a collective effort to build the bonds of affection that Lincoln spoke of – the ties that bind us together as a community and a nation. It's not about having all the answers or believing that education alone can solve all of society's problems. But it is about recognizing that our schools are one of the few remaining spaces where we come together across our differences, where we can still build a shared sense of purpose and possibility.
We’ll Leave It Here For Now
I harbor no illusions about the challenges ahead. The road will be difficult, and there will be setbacks. But I'm driven by a deep conviction that this work matters - not just for our students, but for the very fabric of our society. Every policy we refine, every program we implement, every data point we analyze is a step towards a more equitable and effective system. These aren't just abstract metrics; they represent real changes in the lives of our students, teachers, and families.
This journey isn't one we can undertake alone. It requires the collective wisdom, energy, and commitment of our entire community. Whether you're a parent juggling work and your child's education, a teacher striving to inspire in challenging circumstances, a business leader concerned about workforce development, or simply a citizen who believes in the promise of public education - your voice and your involvement matter.
By choosing to return to Tulsa and public education, I'm not just selecting a career path. I'm answering a call to be part of something larger than myself. I'm committing to the hard, often unglamorous work of turning ideals into reality, of bridging divides, of rebuilding trust in our public institutions one interaction at a time.
In a world that often feels fragmented and divided, our public schools remain one of the few spaces where we come together across our differences. They're where we can still build a shared vision of what our community can be. That's a profound responsibility, and it's one that belongs to all of us.
So, I invite you to join us in this crucial conversation about the future of education, here in Tulsa or beyond. Attend a school board meeting. Volunteer in a classroom. Engage with your local schools. Share your ideas and your concerns. Because in the end, the strength of our schools reflects the strength of our community's commitment to them.
The task of improving our schools isn't just for educators or policymakers. It belongs to all of us. And in taking up this task, we do more than improve test scores or graduation rates. We strengthen the bonds that hold our community together. We invest in our collective future. We demonstrate what's possible when we commit ourselves to a shared purpose.
What role will you play in shaping the future of education? The conversation is ongoing, and your voice is needed. The next chapter is already underway - let’s write it together.
Miscellaneous life updates
I turned 29 about 2 weeks ago. HBD2ME. Leo season was great while it lasted.
New apartment. It’s a work in progress.
