Many DMC readers choose to begin their weekly local news ritual on the editorial page. I know this because they have told me and explained why they do it. However, I ask that before getting into this week’s editorial that you read the article about the grievance filed with Rotan ISD first, so we can all, informationally, literally, and metaphorically be on the same page.
In late December, as both a news editor and school district resident, I filed a grievance with Rotan ISD. I did so knowing full well that the word “grievance” is one equated with controversy and often has the potential of making people as uncomfortable as dropping the F-bomb at a Baptism.
I have always found that reaction part concerning and part amusing... kind of like hearing the F-bomb at a Baptism.
The right to file a grievance is not some bureaucratic loophole or act of hostility. It is explicitly protected in the First Amendment of the Bill of Rights — the right of the people to petition their government for the redress of grievances. That clause exists because the Founders understood something essential about power: It does not naturally invite challenge, and it rarely corrects itself without one.
Grievances are not a failure of the system. The listing of them and the listening to them are one of the ways the system is designed to work.
I’m also aware that by filing one, I have placed myself in familiar territory — squarely across the table from attorneys. I don’t condemn lawyers. They serve a purpose. But I also don’t lose sleep tangling with them, especially when legal maneuvering starts hardening into policy that quietly narrows public rights and hides the invitation that the First Amendment offers.
That is what this grievance is about. In 2019, the Texas Legislature passed House Bill 2840, adding Section 551.007 to the Texas Open Meetings Act. That section now requires a governmental body to allow members of the public who wish to speak on an agenda item to do so “before or during the body’s consideration of the item.” That language was deliberate. It tied public testimony to relevance and timing — not to convenience.
It is plainly written with the County Affairs Committee Report’s bill analysis, which states: “H.B. 2840 seeks to give the public increased access to the decision making process by providing for public comment before or during the consideration of each item on the meeting agenda.”
This law was not drafted for the governing body’s convenience, but for encouraging public participation in the governmental process, at the moment decisions are being made.
Senate Bill 12 expanded parental engagement, requiring districts to create an online comment portal and to prioritize those comments at the beginning of board meetings. That’s fine, reasonable even, if not outright helpful… quite unlike the government.
Fast forward to today, and we find ourselves wading through a swamp of legal guidance that somewhere between legislative intent, the hedged wording of an Attorney General opinion, and TASB’s model policy language, that prioritization has somehow morphed into prohibition.
“Prioritize” has been read as “only.” “Or” is defined as “as the government chooses.” And “may” is considered as “if you can get away with it.”
That is not what the Legislature wrote in 2019, and it is certainly not what the Open Meetings Act promises neither in its spirit nor its letter.
As a citizen of this district and this state, I take responsibility for pushing back when I believe rights are being slowly squeezed through risk-averse interpretation. As an editor, I could have written about this from a distance. As a participant in local government, I chose instead to engage the system directly, using the very mechanism it provides.
I filed the grievance because I wanted the issue addressed where it belongs — in front of the elected officials. Not whispered about. Not deferred indefinitely. Not buried under, “Well, our lawyers say it’s legal.”
The irony here is that the system is actually working.
The grievance forces a written response. It builds a public record. It places responsibility where it belongs — with the board, not the administration and not the attorneys who advise them. That process is slow by design, and that’s a feature, not a bug.
What I am arguing for is not chaos or unlimited microphone time. My proposed policy revision keeps time limits, sign-up requirements, decorum rules, and the SB 12 parental comment block intact. I am simply requesting the board restore alignment between agenda items and public comment, allowing citizens to be heard when the item they care about is actually being discussed.
That should not be controversial. It should be common sense.
What should concern people is how easily rights narrow without anyone voting to narrow them, and worse, without anyone noticing until it was almost too late. A cautious legal interpretation becomes habit. Habit becomes policy. And before long, a right that was explicitly strengthened by the Legislature become mostly theoretical.
This is not about whether boards can legally get away with limiting public comment to the beginning of meetings. It’s about whether officials want to govern in a way that treats public participation as an inconvenience or as an essential part of the process.
I filed the grievance because that choice matters. And because rights that are never exercised don’t usually disappear in a dramatic crash. They simply dilapidate under the comforting assurance that everyone must be following the rules, and when you don’t take the time to read them, you will never know when they’re being broken.