Monthly Archives: September 2026

Have We Lost Our Focus? When Adult Politics Distracts Us from the Real Work of Education

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I had an epiphany recently. Maybe it wasn’t really an epiphany as much as the culmination of watching public education change over the course of my career. I’ve spent more than four decades working in education, human services, recreation, family engagement, prevention and intervention, and community-based programs. For most of that time, the conversations we had about education were centered on a fairly straightforward question: What do our kids need to succeed?

We didn’t always agree on the answer. In fact, we frequently disagreed. But the questions themselves were largely about children. How do we help students achieve academically? How do we close achievement gaps? What interventions work for a student who is falling behind? How do we differentiate instruction so that we aren’t teaching every child as though they learn in exactly the same way? How do we keep young people from becoming disconnected from school? How do we provide meaningful opportunities after school and during the summer? How do we address mental health? How do we prevent violence, substance abuse, chronic absenteeism, and school dropout? How do we engage parents as genuine partners in their children’s education? How do we make sure students feel safe, supported, challenged, and connected to their schools? Those were difficult conversations, and we certainly didn’t always get it right. But they were conversations about kids.

We Built Entire Fields Around Supporting Children

Think about how much education has evolved over the last 20 or 30 years. We learned that what happens outside the classroom directly affects what happens inside the classroom. That realization helped expand prevention and intervention programs, counseling, mental health services, expanded learning, community schools, restorative practices, college and career readiness, and family and community engagement.

Family engagement itself has grown tremendously as a field. We moved beyond the old idea that parent involvement meant showing up for Back-to-School Night, joining the PTA, or volunteering at a school carnival. We began asking deeper questions. Do families understand the educational system? Do they know how to advocate for their children? Do educators know how to build trusting relationships with families? Are we engaging families who historically haven’t had a seat at the table? Are schools creating environments where parents are partners rather than simply recipients of information?

That work matters. We have also learned much more about trauma, mental health, belonging, school climate, early literacy, chronic absenteeism, and the importance of connecting schools with community resources. These aren’t always the issues that make headlines or generate viral social media posts. But they are the issues that can change the trajectory of a child’s life.

And Then Something Changed

Increasingly, I find myself wondering whether we have allowed the focus of public education to shift. Instead of spending most of our collective energy discussing instruction, achievement, attendance, graduation, career readiness, mental health, family engagement, school safety, and student opportunity, education has increasingly become another battlefield in America’s political and cultural divisions.

Nationally, we are debating the future and role of the U.S. Department of Education. Here in California, we have debated and enacted significant changes to how education is governed at the state level. Across the country, communities are fighting over books and instructional materials. School boards have debated flags, parental notification policies, curriculum, race, history, gender, student privacy, parental rights, and identity. Issues that once occupied statehouses, Congress, cable news, and national political campaigns are increasingly finding their way directly into local school boardrooms.

To be clear, many of these issues involve legitimate questions of law, governance, parental authority, student rights, local control, and educational policy. They should not simply be dismissed because they are controversial. Parents have every right to ask questions about their children’s education. Students have rights. Educators have professional responsibilities. School boards have governance responsibilities. State and federal governments have legitimate roles in education.

But I keep coming back to another question: How much oxygen are these battles taking out of the room?

Meanwhile, the Kids Are Still Sitting in Our Classrooms

While adults fight, a third grader is still struggling to read. A middle school student is still chronically absent. A high school student is still trying to figure out whether college, the military, an apprenticeship, or a career technical education pathway is right for them. A teacher is still trying to differentiate instruction for 30 students with very different academic needs. A counselor is still helping a student experiencing anxiety, grief, or trauma. A family is still trying to understand an IEP. An English learner’s parents are still trying to navigate an educational system that can be confusing even when English is your first language.

A student experiencing homelessness is still wondering where they are going to sleep tonight. A child is still being bullied. Another child may not have reliable internet access at home. And somewhere, there is a young person who simply needs one caring adult at school to notice that something isn’t right. Those challenges don’t disappear because adults are arguing about politics. That’s the part I worry we are losing sight of.

Public education has always been political in the broadest sense. Decisions about funding, curriculum, accountability, civil rights, school boundaries, special education, language access, and educational opportunity have always involved public policy. I am not suggesting that we somehow remove policy debates from public education. That’s neither realistic nor necessarily desirable. What concerns me is when the political debate itself becomes more important than the educational outcome.

Governance requires the discipline to distinguish between what is important and what is simply loud. Not every national political battle needs to become the defining issue of a local school district, and not every disagreement needs to become a test of someone’s political identity.

Sometimes the most important work a school board, superintendent, principal, teacher, or community can do is much less exciting. Improve reading. Reduce absenteeism. Hire and retain great teachers. Support principals. Improve special education services. Strengthen school safety. Expand career pathways. Engage families. Improve graduation rates. Maintain facilities. Provide strong mental health supports. Spend taxpayer dollars responsibly. Make sure every student knows there is a place for them in our schools. None of those things will necessarily trend on social media. But they matter tremendously to children.

The Adult Agenda Versus the Student Agenda

Maybe that’s the distinction I’ve been searching for. There is an adult agenda, and there is a student agenda. Too often, the adult agenda asks who won the political argument, which side the board took, what statement was made, what flag is flying, which book is on a shelf, or which political constituency walked away satisfied. Those questions may matter deeply to the adults involved, but I wonder how often we stop and ask what the student sitting in the classroom needs from us.

The student agenda sounds very different. Can I read? Can I do math? Do I feel safe here? Does my teacher believe in me? Is there someone I can talk to when I’m struggling? Will I graduate? Am I prepared for college or a career? Does my family understand how to help me? Do I have opportunities regardless of my ZIP code, income, language, disability, race, background, or family circumstances? Those are the questions that should keep educational leaders awake at night.

Family and Community Engagement May Be Part of the Answer

This is also why I continue to believe so deeply in authentic family and community engagement. Family engagement should never belong to the political left or the political right. Parents shouldn’t have to agree politically to want excellent schools. Two parents can disagree profoundly about national politics and still sit at the same table and agree that they want their children to be safe, to learn, to have excellent teachers, to be prepared for life after high school, and to have someone notice when they are struggling. That common ground still exists. Sometimes I think we’ve simply forgotten how to look for it.

Authentic family engagement can help us rediscover that common ground because it requires us to listen rather than assume. It asks educators to build relationships with families rather than simply communicate at them. It asks families to become partners in improving schools rather than spectators in political battles. When we sit across the table from one another and start the conversation with, “What do our children need?”, the conversation changes.

Maybe We Need a Reset

Perhaps public education needs a reset. Not a reset where we ignore politics, policy, rights, or legitimate disagreements, but a reset where we remember our primary responsibility: children.

When an issue comes before us, perhaps our first question shouldn’t be, “What will my political side think?” Maybe it should be, “How will this improve outcomes for students?”

Will it help children learn? Will it help teachers teach? Will it make schools safer? Will it strengthen families? Will it create opportunities? Will it improve belonging? Will it prepare students for the world they will inherit? Those aren’t partisan questions. They are educational questions.

And if we cannot connect what we’re spending enormous amounts of time fighting about to better outcomes for students, perhaps we should at least be willing to ask whether we’ve allowed the adults to become the center of public education. Because they aren’t. The kids are!

Maybe one of the greatest challenges facing public education right now isn’t simply funding, curriculum, governance, politics, or another new initiative. Maybe it’s whether we can resist all the distractions long enough to remember why so many of us entered this work in the first place. After more than four decades of working with students, families, educators, and communities, I keep coming back to the same place.

Students first. Not politics first. Not adults first. Not ideology first. Students first! Everything else should follow.

About the Writer

Marcelino “Mars” Serna is an educator, community leader, engaged father, proud “Big Papa,” and husband with more than 40 years of experience serving children, families, and communities. His career has spanned education, human services, recreation, prevention and intervention, and family and community engagement. He currently serves as a Program Manager with the San Bernardino County Superintendent of Schools and as Vice President of the Fontana Unified School District Board of Education.

Throughout his career, Mars has worked to strengthen the connection between schools, families, and communities, with a particular emphasis on family engagement, leadership development, prevention and intervention, and creating opportunities for young people to thrive. But some of his most important roles exist outside of his professional titles—as a husband, an engaged father, a Big Papa, and a community member who believes deeply in giving back and serving others.

His reflections are shaped by both his professional experiences and the lessons he has learned from family, community, and more than four decades of working alongside students, parents, educators, and community leaders.

At the heart of his work and writing is a simple philosophy: Students first. Relationships matter. Strong schools are built in partnership with families and communities.

A Bit of Reflection: Relationships Over Transactions

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Running for office teaches you a lot about the people within your sphere of influence, and perhaps even more about relationships. Over the past several weeks, I’ve had a lot of time to think about the difference between transactional relationships and relational relationships. Before I get into my reflection, let me explain what I mean by those two terms.

A transactional relationship is largely based on an exchange: I do something for you, and you do something for me. There is often an understood responsibility, expectation, or benefit for each person. Transactional relationships aren’t necessarily bad. We all participate in them, but the relationship often exists primarily because each person expects something from the other.

A relational relationship is different. It’s built around care, trust, authenticity, and growing together. It shows you who values the connection, not simply the convenience. Transactions can certainly happen within relational connections. We help each other, advocate for each other, show up for each other, and sometimes ask each other for favors. The difference is that the transaction isn’t the foundation of the relationship. We do those things because we genuinely care about the other person’s well-being, not because we’re keeping score or expecting something in return.

If you know me, you know I value relationships. My wife, Marissa, reminded me once that I trust people way too much. But in my defense, throughout my life and career, I’ve tried to take the long view when it comes to people. I believe in winning hearts and minds, listening to people, building trust, and creating relationships that last beyond whatever project, position, or circumstance originally brought us together. That philosophy is at the heart of my work in Family and Community Engagement. Good family engagement is deeply relational work. It humanizes us. It requires us to listen, build trust, be vulnerable, and invest something of ourselves in the people we serve.

Yes, relational work can be taxing. It requires time, patience, openness, and sometimes a little grace. But over the long haul, it leads to something far more meaningful and impactful. When we work in genuine relationship with one another, we create belonging. We develop accountability to one another. Even through brief interactions, we communicate something incredibly powerful. I see you. I hear you. You matter. Relationships built through listening, trust, openness, and longevity will almost always have deeper roots than interactions that are one-sided or based solely on what someone can do for us. I value relationships over transactions.

In a split second, my normal changed tremendously

For the past 36 days, many of you know I’ve been dealing with a severely broken ankle that landed me on what I’ve jokingly called the “injured reserve list.” Being forced to slow down has given me more time than I ever expected to sit, observe, think, and reflect. And I’ve had the opportunity to witness something incredible: my village.

People have stepped up to walk neighborhoods for my campaign because I physically can’t. Friends and neighbors have cut my yard. People have brought us dinners, visited me at home, called, texted, checked on Marissa and me, and stepped into responsibilities when I couldn’t be there myself. Some have simply sent a message saying, “How are you doing?” Others have said, “What do you need?” And some didn’t even ask. They just showed up. Those moments have meant more to me than people probably realize. Most of these relationships weren’t created during the past 36 days. They were built over years, sometimes decades, through shared experiences, conversations, service, laughter, challenges, disagreements, trust, and simply being there for one another. There wasn’t a transaction involved. Nobody was keeping score. They simply cared.

And Then There’s Politics

Politics gives you a very interesting lens through which to examine relationships. I’ve learned that many of the relationships we develop while serving as elected officials can naturally become transactional. That’s part of the political environment, and I’ve learned to recognize it for what it is. For example, candidates often receive contributions or support from organizations. Sometimes that support comes from shared values and a long-standing relationship. Other times, an organization may support a candidate because it believes that person will be receptive to its priorities in the future.

That doesn’t automatically make the interaction wrong. It simply means we should understand the difference between a transaction and a relationship. And campaigns have a way of bringing that distinction into focus. Sometimes people you thought would be standing beside you through thick and thin decide to stay quiet. Some may support you privately but aren’t comfortable doing so publicly. Some have professional relationships, personal circumstances, or other considerations that influence how involved they want to become. And yes, there are those ride-or-die people who don’t hesitate. They simply show up.

But perhaps the biggest surprise has been the people I never expected. People I barely knew have volunteered to knock on doors. Others have shared posts, put up signs, made phone calls, sent encouraging texts, or simply asked: “How can I help?” Acquaintances have become friends. Existing friendships have grown stronger. And some relationships I once viewed one way have caused me to reconsider what they actually are. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s perspective.

One of the Harder Lessons

I’ve also learned that political support shouldn’t automatically become the measuring stick for friendship. But I’d be less than truthful if I said campaigns haven’t changed the way I view some relationships. There is something enlightening about watching someone you considered a friend actively support someone running against you. I respect everyone’s right to support the candidate of their choice, that comes with public service and with democracy. But I’m also human. Sometimes those moments cause you to reevaluate a relationship you thought was something more.

Maybe that’s part of understanding the difference between relational and transactional connections. Not every person who enters your life is meant to occupy the same space forever. Some relationships are deep, personal, and enduring. Others exist because of a particular job, role, organization, or season of life. A campaign has helped me recognize the difference. That doesn’t mean there has to be anger or resentment. It simply means adjusting expectations and allowing some relationships to exist for what they are rather than what I thought they were. And yes, occasionally that may include a little Facebook housekeeping. 😂

At the same time, I must hold myself accountable to the principle I’m writing about. If I believe in relationships over transactions, I can’t reduce every friendship to “I supported you, therefore you should support me.” People have the right to make their own choices. What I can do is pay attention to what those choices teach me about the nature of our relationship. No bitterness. No scorekeeping. Just clarity. And sometimes clarity is a gift.

Someone choosing not to put up my sign, endorse me, contribute to my campaign, or share one of my posts doesn’t necessarily mean that person doesn’t care about me. I’ve had to remind myself of that. Because if I truly believe in relationships over transactions, then that principle must work both ways. I can’t say that I value people relationally and then reduce the relationship to: I supported you, so you should support me. That would make the very relationship I claim to value transactional. And maybe that’s one of the most important lessons this campaign has reinforced for me.

A campaign can give a person perspective. It teaches you to appreciate the people who willingly walk alongside you while still respecting those who choose not to. It teaches you to recognize the people who show up when there’s nothing obvious in it for them. It reminds you to be grateful for your village. And it challenges you to examine your own relationships and ask whether you’re investing in people because of what they can do for you, or simply because they matter to you. Most importantly, I’ve been reminded that relationships shouldn’t be defined by an election. Campaigns eventually end. Titles eventually change. Election Day will soon be gone (37 more days). But the way we treat people along the journey, and the relationships we build, nurture, and preserve, can last much longer than any position we hold.

36 days on the injured reserve list has given me more time to think than I probably wanted. But it has also given me the opportunity to see my village from a different perspective. Some people surprised me. Some relationships became stronger. Some caused me to reflect. And some people simply showed up. For all of it – the support, the surprises, the perspective, and even the lessons, I’m grateful. I will continue to hold relationships over transactions as my foundation.

About the Writer

Marcelino “Mars” Serna is an educator, community leader, engaged father, proud “Big Papa,” and husband with more than 40 years of experience serving children, families, and communities. His career has spanned education, human services, recreation, prevention and intervention, and family and community engagement. He currently serves as a Program Manager with the San Bernardino County Superintendent of Schools and as Vice President of the Fontana Unified School District Board of Education.

Throughout his career, Mars has worked to strengthen the connection between schools, families, and communities, with a particular emphasis on family engagement, leadership development, prevention and intervention, and creating opportunities for young people to thrive. But some of his most important roles exist outside of his professional titles—as a husband, an engaged father, a Big Papa, and a community member who believes deeply in giving back and serving others.

His reflections are shaped by both his professional experiences and the lessons he has learned from family, community, and more than four decades of working alongside students, parents, educators, and community leaders.

At the heart of his work and writing is a simple philosophy: Students first. Relationships matter. Strong schools are built in partnership with families and communities.