Before the Concrete Dried

Why approving a school-based health clinic without defined boundaries was a failure of governance, not compassion

Stock image used symbolically to reflect structural work and permanence. It does not depict the Park Center project, any specific school, or a board meeting.

I’ve been reading through the Park Center renovation discussion, and I want to name something plainly. A school-based health clinic is not a small add-on. It is a structural decision. It is a permanent door. Before anything else, this needs to be said clearly: students do need support. Nurses are stretched thin. Vision, dental, and mental health access matter. I am not dismissing any of that. I’ve lived close enough to lack to understand what happens when families wait too long for help. I understand urgency. I understand compassion. But compassion does not replace governance. And urgency does not excuse sequence. What concerns me is not the idea of a clinic. It is the order in which this board chose to act.

The board approved the clinic structurally. That matters more than most people realize. This was not a vote on a finalized scope of services. It was not a vote on a clearly articulated consent framework. It was not a vote on written boundaries, enforceable limits, or oversight mechanisms. It was a vote to embed a permanent facility into a public school before those questions were settled. Once a structure is approved, it does not remain neutral. It becomes policy by default. It creates access. It shifts authority. It constrains future boards and future parents who may raise concerns after the door is already built.

That is not paranoia. That is how systems work.

This district has lived through this before. Families were told not to worry. They were told intentions were limited. They were told concerns were exaggerated. And later, they discovered that policies around access changed, symbolism entered school spaces, and decisions with moral weight were made without meaningful parental consent.

That history is not baggage. It is context. Which is why approving structure before boundaries is not a small procedural detail. It is a governance failure. Families deserve clear, written answers before concrete is poured. They deserve to know what services will and will not be offered. They deserve clarity on what requires parental consent every time. They deserve to understand what a minor can consent to without a parent present. They deserve policies that protect parents from being cut out of life-altering decisions. They deserve transparency about who the partner is, what values govern the lease, and what oversight exists when trust is tested, because it always is.

The real concern in the community is not health care. It is pathway. Proximity creates permission. Normalization creates momentum. Expansion rarely happens through one dramatic vote. It happens quietly, through accumulation, through access, through silence. Intent is not the same as outcome. Compassion is not the same as restraint. This is where the board deserves critique. Board members who ran on caution, parental trust, and measured governance chose reassurance over definition. They deferred the hard work of drawing lines. They approved permanence while postponing clarity. That is not neutrality. That is delegation without limits. When leaders refuse to define boundaries, they do not preserve balance. They hand the field to bureaucracy. And bureaucracy does not stop at “basic” simply because that was the original intention. Public schools exist to educate. They exist to provide safe environments for learning and to support general student well-being. They do not exist to replace parents. They do not exist to resolve questions of identity, values, or moral formation.

That line matters. If this clinic is truly about basic care, mental health support, and reducing absenteeism, then saying so in writing should be easy. Those boundaries should be public. Auditable. Enforceable. Established before construction, not after concerns arise. I ran for school board in 2024 because I believed someone needed to say this out loud. I didn’t win. But losing an election does not relieve a citizen of responsibility. I stayed close. I listened. I watched. And what I have learned is simple: Trust is not built by speed. It is built by restraint. I don’t speak because I escaped. I speak because I stayed awake long enough to understand what escape costs. I stay present because light doesn’t withdraw. It stands.