Polarized ideals and divided voters define Linn-Mar school board race

It was when I looked at the lengthy list of comments on a candidate’s ad on Facebook that I first realized how bitter the Linn-Mar school board race had gotten.

The post itself was a relatively simple one: A picture of candidate Jodi Treharne with her family that read, “Get To Know Me” next to several paragraphs detailing Treharne’s life and career, as well as her priorities for the district if she is elected to one of the four Linn-Mar board seats up for grabs.

The comment that raised my eyebrows came from current board member Melissa Walker, who is not up for re-election this year.

“I noticed multiple instances in which you have blocked individuals from commenting on your page,” wrote Walker. “If elected, this would become illegal as a violation of the first amendment (sic) rights. How would you choose to manage your social media page and the challenges that come with being a board member?”

Facebook, along with most other social media platforms, allows users to block other users from accessing their page in order to prevent spam, harassment and other abuse. But Walker’s assertion lacks clarity about when a political candidate may and may not block certain users without running afoul of the law – campaign pages generally may do so unless they are used by an elected official to carry out the duties of their office. Treharne is not currently serving in any elected office.

Walker is. And her own school board page on Facebook could itself be flouting the law. The very top of Walker’s page features a post soliciting input in her official capacity as a board member from district residents and provides her district email address – a public resource funded by taxpayers – as contact information, ample indication that the page is for official use. That might mean that Walker cannot also use the page to endorse her own candidacy or anyone else’s. Yet on Oct. 22, a month after suggesting yet-uncommitted violations by Treharne, Walker used her apparently official Facebook page to encourage district residents to vote, sharing an infographic listing the names of four candidates endorsed by the local teachers’ union.

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I’m not the ethics board, and I won’t ascribe to malice what can be explained by “oops.” If Walker’s endorsements on a seemingly official page do violate ethics rules, I doubt nefarious intent.

I’m more interested in why a sitting board member – one not on the ballot this year – found it suitable to publicly approach a candidate with such a hostile, aggressive question.

School board races used to be boring – so boring that only a handful of residents would vote. Ten years ago in 2013, only one school race in Linn County - North Linn – had a double-digit turnout rate, with just under 11 percent of registered voters participating. That same year only 1.2 percent of Linn-Mar voters voted for school board. That’s 317 people - out of an electorate at the time of 26,466.

What determines paltry turnout for school board races is the same thing that drives huge turnout for higher-profile races: Either a lack or abundance of controversy. In 2020, anguished by shuttered schools and sharply divided by issues such as race relations, pandemic restrictions, school curriculum and election security, presidential voters turned out at the highest rate in 120 years to cast a ballot for one buffoon in order to save civilization from the other.

But in school races many voters don’t even know who’s on the ballot. The most controversial question school district voters used to face was whether to raise taxes to fund projects. Linn-Mar’s staggeringly high turnout for its last bond vote in 2018 still amounted to fewer than one out of every three eligible voters.

That was then. This is now, and in this “now,” public schools are the newest battlegrounds at the intersection of politics and culture. Linn-Mar is in the national spotlight after passing a gender identity policy in 2022 over the protest of more than a few concerned parents. It has since been rendered DOA by state legislation and a federal court ruling.

Eight candidates including two incumbents are battling for four seats. Largely viewed as two slates of four candidates each, a sweep by either “side” could, in theory, determine ideological control of the school board.

“Ideological control of the school board.” Just seeing those words on my screen as I type them makes me cringe. But this is Linn-Mar, and this is the controversy driving this election.

Four of the eight are a solid slate. First-time candidates Katie Lowe Lancaster and Justin Foss join incumbents Barry Buchholz and Brittania Morey, the current board president. Even before all four had filed paperwork and announced their campaigns, the slate was endorsed by a group called the Linn-Mar Coalition for Public Schools.

The Linn-Mar Coalition for Public Schools lists its chairperson as Circe Stumbo, a member of the Linn County Democratic Central Committee. Stumbo is the founder and president of the West Wind Education Policy Foundation, an educational leadership development group whose model is “informed by Critical Race Theory in education.”

Candidates Laura Steffeck , Tom Law, Kevin Slaman and Jodi Treharne are frequently linked through common support from voters. Several banners have popped up around town combining the first letter of the four candidates’ names for the acronym “Linn-Mar Supports Traditional Standards,” a reference to concerns that Linn-Mar has begun fostering a culture focused too much on identity politics and too little on academic growth. The banners were created by supporters in the district without the involvement of the candidates.

Are Steffeck, Law, Slaman and Treharne running as a slate? According to them, no. Although each of the four have attended at least one event to which they were all invited by supporters (as has the Coalition slate,) not all four campaign in the same style or cooperation. Steffeck and Slaman are raising funds from supporters and had signs made bearing their names together. Law and Treharne are self-funding their races – Treharne in particular has been adamant that she does not wish to be supported by donor contributions or group endorsements.

In the current Linn-Mar climate, a candidate’s hesitation to be formally linked to an organization is understandable. Endorsement from the teachers’ union implies association with liberal activists disguised as teachers who hate your kids if they mutter a conservative thought. Endorsement from LGBTQ groups implies support for nonsensical policies that put boys in girls’ bathrooms and vice versa.

Endorsement from local evangelical leaders implies a desire to force one’s religious beliefs on everyone else. Endorsement from the local Moms for Liberty chapter implies support for extremists who allegedly want to burn down the school library. (That’s an exaggeration for effect – no one is actually suggesting burning down a school library. For crying out loud, people.)

But even if I think the undeniably liberal teachers’ union has an iron grip on public schools, I know they care about their students. Even if I’m flabbergasted by the idea of school policies that hide a kid’s gender transition from their own parents, I know that LGBTQ organizations believe they’re helping struggling kids.

Even if I think it a bad idea for pastors to endorse candidates or run for office themselves, I know they feel they are serving their communities by doing so. And even if I dislike the passage of laws that effectively ban certain books from school libraries, I know that some of the books that have parents so upset do in fact contain explicit depictions of sex acts that have no place in a school library.

In other words, each side of the debate has earnest concerns. But some want you to believe the worst of the opposition, as if they truly want to those candidates to be judged for not saying “screw you” to the undesirable others. Commentary on social media is the worst I have ever seen in a local race, and it’s causing this one to be defined by exchanges of insults between supporters as much as – if not more than - the ideas of the candidates.

Slaman removed the ability to comment on his Facebook page. When I asked why, he referred me to a statement posted several weeks earlier saying “I will not go along with people trying to drag me in the mud.” The four Coalition candidates certainly aren’t spared from hostile remarks. Most wouldn’t be wrong to block certain people who leave vicious comments.

But an analysis of all eight candidates’ social media profiles shows that far and away the highest volume of vitriol is directed at Treharne, who provided screenshots of conversations with voters she blocked from using her page. Her seemingly temperate posts are regularly bombarded with aggressive comments and hostile inquiries about where she stands on issues and who supports her campaign. Board member Walker’s comment was one of dozens on single post. A significant portion of the comments targeting Treharne are made by district voters allied with the Coalition slate.

At best, the consistent commentary seems like organized pressure. At worst, it’s a free-for-all. And if voters want to hop online to find out where a candidate stands on a particular issue, they’ll have to wade through that mess of vitriol.

If they’re lucky, they see an earnest question with an earnest answer here or there. You’ll know it’s an earnest exchange if it seems … well, boring.

Comments: 319-398-8266; althea.cole@thegazette.com

Disclaimer: Columnist Althea Cole previously served with Tom Treharne, spouse of candidate Jodi Treharne, on the board of a Marion nonprofit. Cole and candidate Treharne had not met prior to Cole’s inquiry for this column. This column does not imply an endorsement of any candidate.