As his office door swings open, Dr. Lucian Yates III, Harrisburg’s superintendent of schools, wishes everyone well. His guests file past one by one bidding him good-bye. Their smiles last out into the hallway where they chat. This scene has every characteristic of a good meeting concluded.

On the walls of his outer office, looking backward, right to left, you see an artist’s rendition of the state capitol, a tranquil Susquehanna River scene, and finally a now fallen-down church that sat on the corner of Third and Green streets a few blocks from his office.

I’m thinking that if folks don’t get out this man’s way and let him do his job, as he obviously can do from the demeanor of his departing colleagues, our school district will eventually crumble from neglect like the old church. We have noise from the state capitol on school takeover legislation. I hope the calm river scene is not a fool’s delight before a storm.

We take our seats in a nicely appointed executive office. Clean, crisp, professional, like a sensible, tasteful luncheon — nothing overdone, nothing underdone. If you’re used to public servant or government digs, I can see why I’ve heard grumbles on the street that he “overspent” on his office. Believe me, I’ve seen both ratty civil servant and corporate spaces. A former employer imported marble from Italy for the lobby and had a $4 million copper roof put on the building. Now that’s overspent.

I start my interview with Yates where the story really begins. I ask him why he thinks we recruited him here to do a job so many won’t let him accomplish. He sighs with an exhale that says: Finally, somebody gets it. “I’m trying to bring a strong, much-needed sense of professionalism to our schools,” Yates begins.

I ask if he agrees with the much held, rarely-discussed-in-public perception that Harrisburg School District is a decades long fiefdom from which some school board members — by no means all, but enough to keep the chaos churning — and higher ups dispense favors to the docile, the uncreative, and the clueless.

“Yes, I understand that to be the case. Much was doled out, stifling innovation. People were not asked to be leaders, to be strong, to be much more than mediocre,” Yates says.

His office walls are filled with huge sheets of handwritten, clearly expressed steps to better management. At quick glance, you see a simple “one foot, then the other” approach to change jotted down in thick, colorful letters. Already, his plan to decentralize the city’s 12 elementary schools so children and parents can walk to school will eliminate busing costs of $1 million annually.

I throw in a MODE suggestion: Why not have any transportation required by the district provided by Capitol Area Transit (CAT)? We hear ad nauseam how difficult it is for the region to adapt to CAT public transportation systems and the slow pace of change. Having students ride city buses mixes us up in a good, old fashioned civics lesson sort of way. We might even save more money by privatizing the service (not the schools themselves). Yates says he understands and that most urban schools transport students through public transportation. He can smell a good business deal. “I have a strong business sense to education. This enterprise is a careful mix of talented professionals, well-trained support staff, the community, family involvement, and, most importantly, students who must have an environment where learning is valued and rewarded,” Yates says. Yates is firm in his two-pronged view of education.

“Jefferson was correct. Our democracy is built on strong education. We need educated citizens to make our system work. We also need high quality in public education systems.” Many of his views were honed at his last school district in Kentucky, one that was 12 times larger than ours.

Yates feels it is important to point out that as a city, his constituency of parents, families, and children “lack hope, they’ve learned that you work the system to survive, not improve it for better results.” He talks of confusions within the school board on the difference between micromanaging and leadership. I wince. Having been employed by boards, I know the gnawing frustrations of working for groups that couldn’t find a policy with a flashlight, but salivated over details.

Yates tells of the “old end run trick.” That’s when someone complains to a board member or makes a special request. Instead of giving the textbook “leadership” answer of, “I’ll refer that to the individual we’ve hired to deal with these situations,” the board member says, “I’m gonna fix that for you.”

BahDaBoom. An executive’s hands are tied. And if the constituent isn’t happy

with the outcome, it’s the executive’s, not the board member’s, fault. In executive circles, it’s called “crazy making” by boards. Since we’re the state capitol and full of boards, trade associations, committees, and committees on committees, Harrisburg excels at crazy making.

After citing a litany of end runs and crazy making, Yates says, “I couldn’t make this stuff up!”

I have no reason to believe that our city school board is any different than most of the state’s 501 governing boards. School board directors get elected by back rubbing a voter constituency built through relatives, neighbors, coworkers, churches, synagogues, and volunteer circles.

To turn around the quite despair, Yates calls for good old fashion activism. “We must act now. I’m afraid that public school systems everywhere are near extinction. Move forward together, move away from comfortable, but ineffective, habits toward new and exciting leadership.”

Perhaps our activism should include making sure we get out a strong vote in November when six of the nine school board members stand for re-election. Perhaps voters should ask, in public, in private, in this publication, a few pointed questions: