Page One

A poster to promote Berkeley’s libraries shows Michele Lawrence smiling in a white turtleneck and red blazer, pearls in her ears and an open novel in her hands. She looks kind and composed, every bit the spokesperson for a wholesome public service announcement—but for the novel.  

The novel she cradles—a novel she holds dear, a novel she herself selected for the photo shoot—is D.H. Lawrence’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover. 

“It was the first book I received from my English teacher [ex] husband,” she explained earlier this month. “When I read the book I realized he was not after my mind.” 

Lawrence is not best known, at least not publicly, for innuendo. 

The 59-year-old superintendent of Berkeley schools is better recognized as an unyielding administrator—as respected for restoring stability to the district as she is criticized for exercising a top-down management style. 

On July 16, she marked five years as the chief of the Berkeley Unified School District (BUSD)—no small feat given that the position has been, by her own admission, the hardest job she’s ever held.  

Lawrence entered the district in 2001 on the eve of a multimillion-dollar deficit and a crisis in central administration. The school board, whose members were known, on occasion, to take opposing viewpoints simply to contradict one another, was in need of leadership. The high school was in shambles. 

Prior to moving to Berkeley, she had never lived outside a 25-mile radius in Southern California. After a decade as superintendent of the Paramount Unified School District in Southern California, Lawrence, a former art teacher, counselor and principal, was prepared for new challenges, but not to this extent, she said. 

“I knew the district had financial problems, but I never imagined they were as serious and as tenuous as when I walked in,” she said. “Berkeley, as a community, has always had such a reputation and a cachet for public education that I made the assumption that the district was stable and had good infrastructure. I discovered that was not the case.” 

Lawrence, BUSD’s first Latina superintendent who, began chipping away at the budget deficit with a three-year fiscal recovery plan. She reorganized departmental offices to repair the district’s tattered internal structure, and filled top administrative positions with people she trusted, including Jim Slemp, whom she hired as principal of Berkeley High. Lawrence credits Slemp, now entering his fourth year at the school, with anchoring the school. 

By 2004, BUSD had slashed more than $14 million from the budget. To compensate, Lawrence and the board pushed for the emergency ballot Measure B of 2004, which passed--and was the only local tax to do so that year. 

This year, for the first time since before Lawrence assumed control of the district, the county Office of Education considers the district solvent. By several accounts, central offices are running smoothly, the high school is at a lull and the school board gets along (so well, in fact, detractors label it a “rubber-stamp board.”) 

“We needed someone who said, ‘This is what we need to do and we’re going to do it,’” said school board Director John Selawsky. “Michele at the helm steered us out of trouble.” 

There is still work to be done, though, Lawrence says: passing a new measure, ironing out details of the district’s school lunch initiative and shoring up curricula at the middle school level, among other plans. Lawrence’s contract, under which she earns about $195,000, is up in 2008, but she plans to stick around “’till they bury me,” she said. 

That is not great news for the district’s employee unions. Both the Berkeley Federation of Teachers (BFT) and the Berkeley Council of Classified Employees characterize relations with Lawrence as “not … what I consider to be positive,” said BFT President Barry Fike. Employee layoffs during budget cuts and a bitter labor battle last year between the teachers’ union and the district heightened animosity toward Lawrence. 

“The superintendent has by and large chosen to not take the approach that we [BFT] would prefer, an approach that calls on teachers to work together with administration in a partnership towards the vital education goals before us,” said Fike, in an e-mail. “Instead, her approach has been largely top-down.” 

Of late, Lawrence has fielded criticism for the district’s failure to narrow the achievement gap—disparities in academic performance between Berkeley’s white and African-American students are larger than in any school district in Alameda County, according to state Department of Education data. 

Lawrence said she “absolutely and resolutely denies” ignoring the achievement gap. Still, organizations like United In Action, a local, minority student advocacy group, and Parents of Children of African Descent have said the district, under Lawrence’s guidance, hasn’t done enough to address inequity. 

“I think she sees what needs to be done, and she will try to get from Point A to Point B to do that. I think that has a lot of effectiveness. But I think it’s less effective when you’re dealing with softer issues, more complex issues … like addressing why students are failing,” said Karen Hemphill, a candidate for school board, whose children attend Berkeley schools. “These are the types of things where that style is not going to work, especially in Berkeley.” 

Lawrence has taken additional heat from the wider Berkeley community, particularly in cases where the district path crosses with city interests. District officials have repeatedly grumbled about the lengthy city review processes that hold up important projects, like the BUSD bus yard, which remains unused while the city processes permit applications. Meanwhile, the district begrudgingly leases temporary facilities at $400,000 a year.  

At a neighborhood meeting in May, Lawrence submitted to verbal volley with resident John McBride, who challenged her to send West Campus development plans to a city design committee. When McBride’s comments sufficiently grated on her patience, Lawrence shot back: “Why is it every time I see you, I want to slap you?” 

The comment was playful—mostly. (McBride said he found it “comic but unnecessary.”) Lawrence is anxious to relocate district headquarters, currently housed in the seismically unsafe Old City Hall building, to West Campus posthaste, and won’t capitulate to any protractions--a stance often at odds with the democratic ways Berkeley citizens so highly regard. (A recent construction estimate came in well over initial projections, calling into question the very viability of the project.) 

“The participation, the democratic process is both magnificent and cumbersome,” Lawrence said. “We tend to want to have all voices heard … (and) it completely slows down the process. I’ve come to understand and appreciate that, but it still slows down the process.” 

Retired BUSD teacher Rick Ayers, who said he has “had his differences” with Lawrence when Berkeley High School was first broken up into small schools, sympathized. 

“Berkeley is so split and divided. She’s got to live the political compromises of the culture,” he said. “It’s a job I wouldn’t want.” 

Lawrence conceded she hasn’t had an easy ride. “Berkeley is the toughest place I’ve ever worked,” she said. “I feel very proud that I’m upright and happy.”