Running for any political office, let alone Scranton School Board, isn’t pleasant.  That’s why I always tip my cap to anybody willing to get into the public arena.  There’s a special bond, I found, that comes with running: only other candidates know the countless hours of door-knocking, party-going, spaghetti and pierogi eating, glad-handing, and utter abuse that comes with the territory.  It can get you down and make you lose sight of why you even bothered in the first place.

Not Carol Oleski.

Being a West Sider, I knew who Carol was and so did my wife’s family.  But I actually had my first real conversation with her at the Victor Alfieri Club after I’d given a speech.  So far as I knew, Carol was my opponent.  She was one of many attempting to make sure I lost, from my perspective.  After I’d spoken, she told me I was an excellent speaker who really understood education.  Carol did not have to do that, and because she did, I had to rethink what “opponent” really means.  I don’t think I’m anything special, lots of people who run are qualified and better than me at speaking.  But to hear that during the intense emotional ride that is a campaign gave me a sense that maybe other people aren’t the boogeymen we sometimes assume.  Maybe most of us are just good people doing the right things.

It’s hard to see.  But Carol saw.

I got to know her through politics more than anything.  We’ve spoken on the phone and at community functions often over the years.  She gave me a phenomenal recipe for apple squares that were loaded with an insane amount of butter.  When she made them, they were glorious.  Me, not so much.  I’m not a good baker.

I applied for more than one board seat over the years, as many know.  And when I saw Carol, I’d tell her my plans and she’s say one thing to me: “Everything you do has to be kids first.  Before anything else, it’s kids.”  She’d explained to me her philosophy many a time.  Even bad decisions, like the layoffs, were better than a state takeover, for example.  If something bad was going to happen, at least make it the least bad.  There’s a lot of wisdom in there despite the public ire she and other board members have endured.

It broke my heart to hear she was losing her battle, and broke my heart further when the news finally came that she’d lost.

Scranton lost a public servant, a servant of the kids.  It played out in Carol’s life, and it played out in her tenure on the Board.

I always try to reflect and learn from my experiences, the good, the bad, and the ugly.  And a lot of lessons came from my time running for office, my time navigating the storm that is Scranton politics.

Carol taught me that I don’t have to assume the worse, that people in politics could be good.