Lorraine Price: A Santa Fe education legend
Lorraine Price was a Santa Fe education legend. As a teacher, principal and District 5 representative on the Santa Fe Public Schools Board of Education, she spent years teaching children and setting policy — giving the best of herself.
Her death earlier this month leaves former students, friends and colleagues mourning her passing, but also celebrating a life well lived.
She brought the grit and guts of her hometown of Brooklyn, N.Y., with her to Santa Fe, making sure the students in her class learned their lessons but also found out about the realities of life in America for Black people. She fought for equity and justice both as a teacher and on the school board.
When she ran for her first term, Price said, “I care about our community. I want to make a difference on a policymaking level that I wasn’t able to when I was a teacher, an assistant principal and a principal.”
On the board, she was known for her love of brevity — no need to talk on and on. Even as a candidate, she pointed out that a master plan with 193 points was “outrageous,” pointing out “a strategic plan should be a plan — giving a sense of direction.”
She advocated for policies that were best for students and teachers, drawing on her years of experience in the classroom. She understood why Advanced Placement classes were essential for student success because she had taught them successfully. She knew what it was like to face down an angry student or inspire another to aim for a doctorate.
She didn’t just have opinions about education; she had actual experience that formed her positions on the board.
Accountability for teachers is a commendable goal, Price said in a 2013 interview. But that only works when teachers are afforded training, support and guidance.
“Teachers are getting too much flak and being asked to do things they have not been prepared for,” she said.
She did not mind taking contrary stances when she deemed it necessary, casting the lone vote against partially opening high school campuses in 2017. Short and to the point, as always, she said, “I don’t think this is worth the death of students,” recalling the policy was formed after a crash involving students late back to campus after lunch.
She also was one of two board members who voted against an Educational Technology Bond back in 2014 — not because she didn’t want the district to buy laptops for students, but because she thought voters should have a say.
Her students, in a recent Facebook discussion, remembered her as both tough and fair, once telling a student in a history class that no, he would not be allowed to disrupt her lessons. Her students learned about Miles Davis and social justice, heard her stories about surviving polio and saw her walking through the halls singing “Pants On The Ground” so people would pull their pants up.
Those who knew her had one common memory: her laugh.
It was infectious, the sort that filled a room to embrace all within hearing. In poor health for some time, she was laughing at the last Board of Education meeting she attended, joking about breakfast burritos with a fellow board member.
As a legacy, perhaps there is no better one than these heartfelt words from a former student: “I just loved her. That’s all.”