When Gov. John Baldacci suggested in his recent re-inaugural address that he aims to eliminate most of the state’s school superintendents and put the substantial savings toward the education of students, it wasn’t difficult to imagine that public reaction was likely pretty much the same from Eliot to Allagash: Rosta ruck on that one, Big Guy, especially on its first run up the flagpole.

Baldacci said his plan to reduce Maine’s 152 school administrative districts and central offices to 26 regional centers would save taxpayers some $250 million over the first three years. Resources would be shifted from

administration to the classroom to achieve, as Department of Education Commissioner Susan Gendron explained to reporters later, “excellence in education for every student in every classroom in every local school.” Laptop computer programs could be extended to high school, scholarship funds for low-income high school graduates could be created, and the like.

If the proposal is approved by the Legislature, each regional center would have its own regional school board of five to 15 members, as well as an advisory council made up of representatives of each member community.

In addition to the 126 superintendents who would be turned out to pasture, the plan would eliminate multitudes of local school board members. And therein lies the obvious rub for an independent citizenry that doesn’t much take to schemes it perceives would result in loss of local control in education matters.

Anyone who remembers the heated legislative debate preceding enactment of the Sinclair Act of 1957

that consolidated many of the state’s small schools – or creation of the “super-university”‘ system some years later – knows that the phrase “loss of local control” represents a legislative minefield not easily tiptoed through, even by pros.

The reaction of Dale Douglass, director of the Maine School Management Association and spokesman for the state’s school boards and superintendents, gives fair warning of the land mines that lie waiting to ambush the Baldacci plan, and of the pressures that will be brought to bear on legislators.

“I know it is politically popular to want to do away with administrative positions, but it’s not as simple as it appears,” Douglass said of the governor’s proposition. “We hope that people will examine this proposal more closely, because it’s going to wipe out every school district in Maine [in favor of] 26 school administrative

districts with super-school boards. Who will govern local schools? Who makes the decisions?”

Who, indeed. Will the debate over super-school boards be as hot as the debate of the super-university plan of another era, creating unrest amongst the natives in a “deja-vu-all over-again” scenario that the great philosopher, Yogi Berra, was fond of invoking? Even a scriptwriter of modest talent could probably write the plot for this

baby without breaking a sweat. Before the debate concludes on Baldacci v. Maine School Superintendents

Association, et al, I’m guessing that lawmakers will be reminded that all politics is local.

On the other hand, I suppose they could find that it’s just so much applesauce, as Will Rogers always insisted. Either way, it should make for good copy, as we in the news biz say.

The governor’s commendable impulse to save money is not unlike that of a predecessor, the late independent Gov. Jim Longley. During Longley’s term of office in the mid-1970s word came from the Legislature that 25 of its members planned to attend a conference in Seattle at a cost of $2,000 per head.

That didn’t sound like such a great deal for taxpayers, who were picking up the $50,000 tab for the junket, Longley fumed. Why couldn’t just six of them go, and make notes to bring back to brief the rest of the gang? That would save $38,000, right there.

And speaking of impeccable logic, I recently discovered a state government Web site posting that details the careers of past education commissioners and associates. It carries a great story about Richard J. Libby, a popular agent for rural education in the 1960s. Libby, generous with his time but not a man to be unduly imposed upon, was once asked to speak at a local gathering. The meeting started late. When it came time for Libby to speak, he

told the audience he had been invited to speak at a certain hour. According to the clock, his speech was over, he

said, and because he had other engagements for the remainder of the evening, he was leaving. Which he did.

Sounds like my kind of guy.

BDN columnist Kent Ward lives in Limestone. Readers may reach him via e-mail at olddawg@bangordailynews.net.