Our Best and Our Brightest

I first heard the phrase “in-state retention rate” in a conversation between William Winter and Rowan Taylor. I wasn’t actually part of the conversation. I was there in case anybody needed ice, or booze, or a light, or a coconut, anything really.

One time, I was asked to drive to Pocohontas to pick up barbeque for my dad and Bob Hearin. I have to say, the barbeque was worth it, and I got to keep the change, which was almost forty bucks, so I figure I made out better than I deserved that day. They say there’s a new joint near Pocahontas that’s supposed to be really good. I haven’t tried it yet. It’s a small town, but they do pretty well by barbeque.

“Student Retention Rate” was something I understood. It measured how many Mississippi students were Mississippi students the year before. It’s a measure of how many Mississippi kids didn’t decide to become crack dealers or gang members. Mississippi had been improving on that score due largely to the Mississippi Education Reform Act of 1982, which is why anytime William Winter ever said anything, I paid close attention. A poor student myself, I was acutely aware of what education meant to Mississippi and who was doing what.

The In-State Retention rate measures the number of people who graduated from educational institutions in Mississippi and stayed in the state afterward. It was a measure that came in different stages: high school graduates who remained, community college students who remained, bachelor's degrees that remained, and so on, all the way up to doctorate. In most states, you have about a sixty- to seventy-five percent retention rate; in Mississippi, we almost never hit that number.

A few years ago, I saw Ray Mabus on Twitter talking about Mississippi’s In-State Retention rate. We had a brief conversation about it. Ray once planned on extending the William Winter legacy by eight years. It ended up being just four years. I’ll never understand how Mississippi would vote for Kirk Fordice against Mabus but not for Gil Carmichael against Cliff Finch. You can go broke trying to predict politics in Mississippi.

Ray married the richest, prettiest woman in my sister’s class and vanished from Mississippi. It was his second wife. He liked them pretty, and he liked them rich. You can’t fault a man for that. He’s moved in and out of Mississippi like a ghost his entire life.

Mabus and Mike Espy got choice appointments under Bill Clinton. Still angry about the Nixon thing and the Iran/Contra thing, the GOP spent Bill Clinton’s entire presidency going after him and his staff with anything they could think of. They went after Espy for, among other things, accepting free tickets to football games.

Hearing what Espy was going to court for, I said, “Wait, that’s illegal?”

Mississippi School Supply Company made pretty good money installing the seats in Veterans Memorial Stadium in Jackson. Forever after, we bought an entire section on the visitor’s side to give our customers free tickets. One of the most regular users of these tickets was Bob Fortenberry. Bob never worked for Mississippi School Supply, but he worked in Education in Mississippi his entire life, and he knew the value of being able to spend an entire football game sitting next to somebody who might be convinced to vote for a bill he wanted or get it out of committee. Bob Fortenberry was a giant of a man in every way that matters. Every time I saw him, I knew he was working and he was doing something good for the people of Mississippi.

Between 1950 and 1970, almost fifty people were born into my extended family. Some were born in Memphis, and some were born in Albuquerque, but most were born in Jackson, and most were born in the same hospital. Coming from humble circumstances, everybody in my extended family put a high value on education. I can’t think of anybody in my generation in my family who didn’t get at least a bachelor’s degree, although some of them had to take a few stabs at it.

Some of us aren’t around anymore. Of those of us who are, fourteen still live in Mississippi. That’s a pretty terrible retention number. One of the most remarkable started her own hydroponic produce company in Mississippi. Not willing to wait for Mississippi to produce opportunities worthy of her, she made her own.

I stayed away for quite a long time because I figured I’d given Millsaps College about all I could. I’m back now, and I’ve attended the last few graduation ceremonies. Watching these remarkably bright young people walk down the aisle and pick up their degrees, I find myself thinking, “I knew your grandfather. I knew your aunt. I knew your mom (boy, did I ever know your mom!).” It makes me a little sad because I know that, of the people who graduate from colleges in Mississippi, Millsaps often has the worst in-state retention rate.

The Theater Department at Millsaps went into abeyance for a while for reasons too complicated to get into here. We put paddles on its chest and revived it a few years ago, bringing my boy, Sam, back home. Last May we graduated our first new Theater Students in ages. I keep track of all the theater kids, but it made me particularly sad when our first new theater kid disappeared from Mississippi almost immediately. I think she’s happy, and I get it’s hard to find opportunities in theatre in Mississippi, but it still makes me sad.

Two of my sister’s kids absconded from Mississippi. One is taking photographs of surfers and bikini models in Australia and Bora Bora. Poor kid. I can’t imagine how he stomachs it. She has one child left here. She starts working on her medical therapy degree next year. I’m hoping we can keep her, but there are no promises, and it’s not fair to ask.

In-state retention is starting to be a political conversation. Shad White has an idea that we should get our children two-year degrees in trades rather than four-year degrees in academic fields. White also likes to say who is and who isn’t a real Republican and threatens to audit schools that don’t remove the word “diversity” from their charter. Heaven forbid, Mississippi (yes, THAT Mississippi) should be held accountable for diversity in education. You can probably tell we’re not friends. Shad White keeps trying to pick a fight with Delbert Hoseman. White is about 5’5”. Hoesmean is almost seven feet tall. Part of me would just love to see Delbert squish him like a bug, but he’s too much of a gentleman.

When I see old friends, I more often than not start the conversation with “How’s your folks?” and then “How’s your kids?” You’d be surprised how often the answer is that neither live in Mississippi anymore. Sometimes, their parents do, out at the Orchard or St. Catherines, where it’s a struggle to get the grandchildren to come in from California, Spain, or England and kiss their grandma once a year.

Sometimes, I think about William Winter, Rowan Taylor, Bob Fortenberry, Bob Hearin, and my dad. I think about the world they tried to make for us and the world they left for us. Then I think about the Mississippi my generation made, and how few of their grandchildren and great-grandchildren live here.

I don’t think the answer is to dumb down your kids and expect less of them academically. That’s a terrible idea actually—but I can’t really say I have a better one.

We built the University of Mississippi Medical Center so that people with medical degrees in Mississippi could do their residency and nursing education here. Given its growth, it was obviously a good idea. Something nobody expected was how many people from other countries would be attracted to a degree from the University of Mississippi Medical Center and associated colleges. In particular, we get tons of students from South Asia and Africa.

I’ve noticed that the in-state retention rate for people born in Mississippi who graduate from UMMC programs is pretty low, but the in-state retention rate for people born in South Asia and Africa who graduate from UMMC is really high.

If you haven’t noticed, Central Mississippi is filling up with super-educated brown and black people. I’m thrilled to see it, but some people (Shad White) make a gas face whenever you mention it. For years now, I’ve been watching with great admiration and genuine fascination how the Indian Community in Central Mississippi grew.

One of my doctors is from Africa. They treat him like a prince out at St. Dominics. He’s a super nice guy and a very effective physician. His specialty is infectious diseases. I’m really grateful to be his patient. I’m grateful for him choosing St. Dominics as his hospital. I’m grateful he chose UMMC for his education. I’m really very, very grateful to have him and his family as part of our community here in Mississippi, but I can’t help but wonder how they feel about it in Africa.

I talk about how poor Mississippi is and how crappy things can be, and all that is true, but it’s also true of many parts of Africa and many parts of India, and here we are in Mississippi, taking some of the brightest people I’ve ever met away from them. While I’m grateful for these people who chose Mississippi, I can’t help but wonder what the people they left behind think. Do they monitor in-state retention numbers like I do?

This isn’t one of those times when I have any answers. As smart as they were, I don’t think Rowan Taylor or William Winter had any, either. This is one of those metrics you just have to monitor and be aware of and promise to do better on, once you figure out how.