This is the op-ed I published in the Eugene Weekly, April 17, 2025

I think it’s time we vote to reconstitute the Lane Community College Board of Education in May’s special election. The reason: this Board is completely dysfunctional with its current six-member configuration. The Eugene Weekly covered the painful machinations of this body in January, and what follow is my take… 

When Lisa Fragala, a veteran LCC Board Member, was elected to the Legislative Assembly last November, she immediately resigned her position on the Board. Very soon thereafter a notice appeared on the LCC website announcing that there was an opening for the vacated position and that the College was seeking applicants from among Lane County voters. According to Board policy 2110 “When a vacancy is declared … the remaining board members shall meet and appoint a person to fill the vacancy from any of the electors of the district…”(emphasis mine).

I was one of four applicants for this slot. I am a retired, career higher-education administrator, having served, for example, with the Oregon University System for several years as the primary liaison to the state’s community colleges and the System’s policy expert on transfer-student activity. When that position ended, I spent a decade as a community college academic dean. In retirement, I have been a part-time LCC faculty member, during which time I was an officer in the faculty union and a member of the College’s Budget Development Subcommittee.

I thought I had a lot to offer to the Board and gave it my best shot during the interview process. However, I had read the application materials of my fellow candidates, watched their interviews, and would have been delighted to have had any of us appointed; we were a very strong pool from which to choose. As stated above, according to Board policy, members had the obligation to fill the position and make itself a whole, seven-member governing body.

During a Zoom meeting on December 16, 2024, the Board agreed to a process for making the selection that included a ranking system for candidates. Then, at the December 18 meeting, all four applicants were interviewed in person. In the first round of applicant ranking, three Board members voted for one candidate as their first choice (Jesse Maldonado), two voted for another (Bob Brew). Neither Dan Isaacson nor myself received any first-place votes. Even with this split, though, I imagined that reason would prevail and either Mr. Brew or Mr. Maldonado would be chosen. Four votes would be needed to appoint.

However, as the discussion proceeded, two Board members refused to rank the candidates, clinging to their one and only choice. In an even more egregious action, one member removed herself from participating entirely and even left the room during voting. The result was that, in spite of our qualifications, no candidate prevailed and the Board left the seat vacant in violation of their own policy and prior practice.

Then, subsequently , during the January 8, 2025, Board meeting, at the urging of Board Member Austin Folnagy, there was yet another (entirely painful and embarrassing) discussion of the selection process. A “motion to rescind” went nowhere and the position continued to remain vacant.

Finally, much to my surprise, at the April 2 meeting, this time at the urging of Board Chair Zach Mulholland, the matter was revisited yet again. Mr. Mulholland took the position that Jesse Maldonado should be now appointed to Position 7 since he is the only candidate from the original pool to throw his hat into the ring for election in May. This suggestion seemed like a no-brainer to me: yes, onboard Mr. Maldonado now so he wouldn’t have to wait until July 1. He is both a known quantity (having already interviewed) and is running unopposed.

Did this Board now do the logical thing? Nope, not a chance. With another three/three deadlock, the position continues to remain unfilled until after the election. The discussion preceding this vote was entirely cringe-worthy. Go find it on YouTube and then ask yourself if this is the group you want to represent the citizens of Lane County and making decisions (or not) about our College. I certainly have an answer for you. So here are my May-election recommendations, which will give us three new members.

Zone 1: Jerry Rust
Zone 3: Devon Lawson
Zone 4: Austin Folnagy (incumbent)
Zone 7: Jesse Maldonado

However, whatever you do, please vote. I know these are not the most high-profile races. Mail those ballots in! I think we all have an idea about what happens when citizens decline to participate in our beloved democratic process.

Before being nudged, not-so-gently, into retirement, Dr. Teller had spent the last ten years of his academic career as a community-college dean. The final position lasted for seven, interminably-long and difficult years at a junior college in California’s Bay Area.

Teller had come to believe that the life of an academic dean was: Just. Plain. Fucking. Nuts. The most frequent question that coursed through his brain was “why am I here?” Surely this wasn’t an existence that any truly healthy person would take on – other than from a sense of desperation.

The fact was, though: Teller had been desperate. The offer that ultimately came his way emerged after three-plus years of interim positions and a lifestyle of never-ending job-search. When he lost his state-level higher-education post in Oregon, he had been forced to seek out something else to do with his life. When the opportunity arose to be a college dean, he thought, “why not?” And after two temporary gigs in his home state, the California job seemed to provide him some sense of direction, resolution and permanency.

But while he was quite experienced with, and even amazingly skillful at, managing the highly-political nature of academia, the navigation of community-college campus-level politics turned out to be somewhat akin to living in the “Twilight Zone.” It was as if Rod Serling had come back to provide the script and narration for Teller’s time on this planet.

Of the 112 community colleges in the California community-college system, Teller ended up working at one of the smaller ones. And as it turned out, it had a quite-specific statewide reputation. Not that he knew anything about that when he moved there, of course.

But the reputation was discoverable and, in the end, indisputable: the place was batshit crazy.

To wit:

• The collective-bargaining agreement between the faculty and the institution was an absurdly-long and complicated document. It was poorly-written, internally-contradictory, maddeningly-prescriptive, and reflected decades worth of administrative concessions. It served as the college’s Bible. It was, indisputably, batshit crazy.
• The Board of Trustees was a self-absorbed, totally-dysfunctional body, prone to micromanagement, lack of boundaries, role confusion, internal strife, senseless speech-making, and meetings that lasted until midnight. Individually, and collectively, they were the very essence of batshit crazy.
• The collection of department chairs, a gang that convened monthly, consistently and vigorously attacked anyone unlucky enough to have the title of vice president. They truly believed that the world revolved around them. The group was distinguished by its inability to move any agenda along and famous for its failure to acknowledge (what the rest of the world might call) “reality.” Individually, and collectively, an easy call: batshit crazy.
• Overt and covert conflicts between faculty members and administrators were frequent, mean-spirited, and embarrassing for any innocent bystander to witness. The dynamic was full-on batshit crazy.
• The door to the vice president’s office was a revolving one, hosting seven different occupants during Teller’s time there. Some were laughably inept. At least two were verbally and/or emotionally abusive. One was middle-twentieth-century sexist. One was certifiably batshit crazy.
• Stories of bad behavior by faculty members were legendary, provided a mystical aura to the institution, and wove the fabric of the college’s culture. The campus employed several who had been there for decades and had long ago given up pretending to care about students. Teller believed that a certain percentage of them had substance-abuse or mental-health issues, and assessed this faction to be, unquestionably, batshit crazy.

Still, despite all the evidence in support of its reputation, Teller had not planned on leaving the college when he did. His departure, ultimately, came as a big surprise to him. The interim vice president, who had once been among Teller’s most-trusted allies on campus, had apparently drunk the Kool-Aid too many times. Acting as an agent of the president, she was the one who informed Teller that his time on campus was over.

He was devastated by the betrayal.

When all was said and done, Teller probably should have seen it coming. But he didn’t.

The evidence is there to support the notion that Dr. Teller, himself, had gone native.

In other words: batshit crazy.

Soundtrack Suggestion

Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
But had me believing it was always something that I’d done
And I don’t wanna live that way
Reading into every word you say
You said that you could let it go
And I wouldn’t catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know…

[“Somebody That I Used To Know” – Gotye]

You never can tell. About anything, really. Don’t you think life is mostly a matter of random encounters and chances?

Which is a rather odd introduction to a little story of laughter and embarrassment during a time of high stress...

Last Tuesday evening I was attending the monthly meeting of the Board of Trustees of my college. I was there because one of the programs within my area of responsibility was going to be eliminated by action of the Board.

It was all high drama. People wanted to have a say in the decision...and many signed up to offer their personal testimony. Although the action item had originally been placed toward the end of the agenda, it was moved up to the beginning so the Board could take its vote while interested members of the public were still in attendance. The testimony and ensuing discussion took almost three full hours.

I was sitting in the back of the room. The furniture in the peanut-gallery section is notoriously uncomfortable, so I had arrived early to get a chair (and a location) that would suit me best. As the meeting got going, more and more people filled the room until it was a standing-room-only situation.

Ultimately, two young women were standing very close to me. I was very conscious of how tightly we were all packed in, and the high likelihood of encroaching on someone else’s personal space. The room started to get warmer and warmer, but the temperature was just right for me as I was sitting next to a very large (but closed) window – which kept cool the air in my region of the room.

At one point, as one of the speakers was just finishing up, another of the audience members came over to me and wanted to see if the window by me would open. I resisted, saying (quietly), “yes, but even if it does open, I’ll freeze.”

The very attractive (approximately 20-year-old) coed standing right next to me, who had not acknowledged me during the entire proceeding thus far, jumped right in. She put her hand on my shoulder and said (or, more accurately, announced) , “oh, don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.”

I snorted. Giggled way too loudly. And blushed wildly.

Another speaker had already taken the microphone. Several people, in a semicircle around us, all turned our way, put their fingers to their lips, and went “shhhhhh!”

My face turned even more red, I’m sure.

When things settled down, I turned to my new, attractive, young friend and said, sincerely, “that was very funny.”

So much, though, for The Dean bringing any sense of Decorum to the room!

Soundtrack Suggestion

I don’t like you

But I love you
Seems that I’m always
Thinkin’ of you
Oh, ho, ho, you treat me badly
I love you madly
You’ve really got a hold on me

(“You Really Got A Hold On Me” – The Beatles)

I have written here before about the circumstances surrounding my departure from the Oregon University System (OUS) Chancellor’s Office (CO) in 2004. Leaving was entirely involuntary on my part– as it was for everyone who worked in the Office of Academic Affairs. Starting July 2004, that particular unit of the CO ceased to exist.

(Can you imagine a university without an “academic” division?!)

To a person, those of us who were ousted, in what may be termed a “political coup,” have harbored residual feelings about the treatment we received. But I believe that we all still have an overriding, sincere concern for the fate and future of Oregon higher education.

Since that time, there has been little attempt on behalf of the CO to put back together – on any kind of permanent, coherent basis – some of the critical functions that were lost in the “reorganization.”

Well, until recently.

Early last February, an announcement appeared on the OUS website for Assistant Vice Chancellor for Student Success Initiatives. The new position, as described, entails many elements of my previous job, and I was pleased to see the recognition that these activities are important and need tending-to on an ongoing basis. (It only took four years!)

Now, I have not been actively seeking other work, given that I have been hired into a permanent position here in California…and in light of the fact that I have made major life moves and job changes three times in the last four years. But, because I feel that I left the CO with “unfinished business” with regard to my inter-sector work in Oregon, and because I continue to care deeply about the health and welfare of higher education in the state, I submitted an application. The deadline was February 27.

I was ultimately called in late April to set up a time for a phone interview on May 15. And, when the time came, I thought I did well. The screening committee was comprised of four individuals, three of whom I used to work with; one of them I considered a friend. It sure seemed to be a friendly-enough group (as much as you can tell over the phone). And, I don’t see how any other candidate could have had an interview that even mildly resembled mine, given that I had first-hand experience performing many of those exact duties and producing policy documents on the very issues we talked about.

But, then I waited. For almost three weeks. Finally, finally, I received a rejection letter by mail a couple of days ago, impersonally notifying me that they had hired a candidate who more closely matched their needs at this time.

I can only guess what the story is; of course, I’ll never really know. I might only surmise that while I was talking about my unfinished business in Oregon, they were thinking, about me: “been there, done that.”

Sigh. I seem to be oh-so-good at setting myself up for rejection.

And I did it yet again.

Silly, wide-eyed, trusting, me.

Soundtrack Suggestion

If you change your mind, I’m the first in line
Honey I’m still free
Take a chance on me
If you need me, let me know, gonna be around
If you’ve got no place to go, if you’re feeling down
If you’re all alone when the pretty birds have flown
Honey I’m still free
Take a chance on me…

(“Take A Chance On Me” – Abba)

When I moved down here to the Bay Area, and accepted a new “permanent” position as an academic dean at the College of Marin, I vowed to not use my work life as fodder for blog material. I just don’t want or need the kind of scrutiny that that kind of reporting might bring.

Not that my day job isn’t worthy of some commentary. Au contraire. For now, though, I’ll continue to leave it to other folks to describe my current workplace…

From the February 22 edition of the Pacific Sun (Marin County’s weekly alternative newspaper), you can read this cover-story article: “COMbustible: This Semester, College of Marin is Offering Courses in Resentment, Accusation and Infighting.”

And from the front page of today’s Marin Independent Journal (Marin County’s daily newspaper), we learn about: “College of Marin in Crisis.”

Soundtrack Suggestion

When you’re down and out,
When you’re on the street,
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you.
I’ll take your part.
When darkness comes
And pains is all around,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.

(“Bridge Over Troubled Water” – Simon and Garfunkel)