Pearland ISD trustee resigns over treatment center contract

Losing a vote to nix a $300,000 contract with a controversial special needs facility was the beginning of the end for Mike Floyd’s tenure as a Pearland ISD trustee.

The 21-year-old first made headlines three-and-a-half years ago when he was elected to the Pearland ISD school board as a senior at the district’s Dawson High School. His principal and staff cheered for him the day after the votes were tallied.

Few, however, cheered after a tense board meeting on Aug. 10 led to the approval of a partnership with the Shiloh Treatment Center and a potential $2.5 million budget shortfall, which precipitated Floyd’s resignation on Friday.

In a letter to Board President Charles Gooden Jr., Floyd said he wanted to cut his extended term short due to “recent board decisions that I cannot support.” His term was set to expire in May, but due to the COVID-19 pandemic, the election was pushed back to November.

While he had already told his fellow trustees he would not seek reelection so he could attend law school, Floyd said the board voting 5-2 to approve the contract with the Shiloh Treatment Center was “the straw that broke the camel’s back” and led him to resign.

“In a way I’m not just resigning because of this contract, which is abhorrent in and of itself,” Floyd said. “It’s a warning sign to people who care about what’s going on for this district.”

But other trustees paint a different picture. They said their approval of the Shiloh contract came with a demand for the district’s special programs department to send a staff member to check on their students every day. And after that vote was cast, they said they were blindsided when Floyd was the sole vote against an additional $2.5 million in guaranteed state funding — a vote that had to be unanimous.

Trustee Jeff Barry said at the meeting that Floyd was holding the additional state funding hostage in order to get the board to go

“a whole new story,” she said.

Naked defiance

“Spirit” looks more defiant in its new setting than it did at the park, and not just because of its size. With its firm stance, intensely fixed eyes and crossed arms that rest on a sword nearly as high as the figure, this is no serene angel but a warrior. A large palm frond covers its genitals.

Guess opted to take “Spirit” rather than a homeless statue of Confederate Gen. Dick Dowling because it conveys more than a narrative about an individual, he said.

“I wanted it because the religiosity of it is clear. There’s so many conversations that can come out of this. One is about the evangelical Christian movement that supports racism and preaches white supremacy.” (To Guess, the sword implies a Godgiven right. The palm frond references

Jesus’ walk into Jerusalem, and the wings and nakedness arrogantly suggest righteousness protected by God.)

Sculpted by Louis Amateis, an American from Italy, “Spirit” was erected in 1908 by a Houston chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy. Brooks places it within a large category of monuments depicting heroic figures who were on the losing side of the Civil War. “These symbols were erected to assert their narrative, and they often gave them to cities where they procured in-perpetuity clauses,” she said.

According to the Texas State Historical Association, the Daughters organization developed from local aid societies that operated throughout the South during the Civil War. The Texas division came along somewhat later, organized in 1896 and incorporated in 1905.

The Daughters’ website describes the group now as historical, educational, benevolent, memorial and patriotic. A statement

posted on its national website denounces persons who are “militant, unpatriotic, racist or subversive to the United States of America and its flag,” also asserting that Confederate memorials are part of a shared American history “and should remain in place.”

During the early 20th century, the Daughters placed about 450 Confederate symbols across the U.S., and it has filed lawsuits in recent years against several cities that have removed them. The group’s Texas and national leaders could not be reached for comment.

Shift in energy

Since the killing of George Floyd in May, 59 Confederate symbols have been removed across the U.S., more than the previous three years combined. With this latest wave Brooks senses a shift in energy and understanding. “It’s really encouraging,” she said. “When people in these numbers are beginning to question these symbols,

change can and will happen.”

She cited NASCAR and the Armed Services Committee as stellar examples of organizations that have recently pivoted. “It really speaks to people understanding that the narrative we’ve been taught is false and undergirds white supremacist culture,” Brooks said.

While some monuments have been destroyed by protesters, most have been put into storage, Brooks said. “Our recommendation is to send them to archives and museums, but they’re so big, most places don’t have space for them.”

Guess has worked with Mayor Turner’s administration since last year to bring “Spirit” to HMAAC. First, he had to raise funds to install a base and a fence. With help from the Houston Endowment, the museum also established a series of scholarly talks, “Lest We Forget,” and a fellowship program for a resident artist who will create projects that involve the statue.

The museum is currently open on weekends by appointment, although “Spirit” cannot yet be viewed in person. For the near term, it will be seen only on a new HMAAC website that debuts soon. Guess plans for it to be somewhat interactive, with a feature that allows viewers to post their own video reactions to the monument. The COVID-19 has made some of that necessary, but Guess said he also wanted to give the concept time to breathe.

“This isn’t about the monument. It’s about having a multicultural conversation on race,” he said. “We have an opportunity here that nobody else has around the country.”

“Spirit” looks just as it did the day it left downtown, embedded with cobwebs and leaf debris that might have been a birds’ nest at some point. A turquoise patina washes over its feet like paint splatters.

Guess declined to shine it up. “We’re letting it be seen for what it is,” he said.