Lisa Davis was a teacher. Somewhere. We think. Probably. Maybe. Perhaps.

Just don't ask the Capo Unified School Board president about the details. Because it's none of your dang beeswax.

So obviously I’ve been fascinated of late by the Capo Unified School Board, what with its four-member Trumpie majority and its secret embracing of the Gays Against Groomers hate dude and the whole n-word thingie-thing-thing and just the absolutely bonkers levels of MAGA-infused Christian nationalism encroaching what is supposed to be a non-partisan, secular, let’s-look-out-for-the-kids entity.

Also, not for nothing, these people never use the bathroom. I’m certain of it.

I digress.

As the days pass, it just gets more and more fascinating. In particular, I am drawn to Lisa Davis, the board president and a woman who hugs every child at graduation ceremonies as if she’s Remmick aspiring to drain Michael B. Jordan’s life blood.

During the last election cycle, Davis ran as a former teacher. That was a chunky part of her campaign. Literally, on her website, she writes: “Lisa is passionate about education, having spent 14 years as an elementary and middle school teacher.” And, to be clear, I doubt she’s lying. Like, it’d be a strange thing to make up. If you’re gonna lie, say you played halfback for the Houston Roughnecks. Or co-starred in one of Halle Berry’s early films. Say you fought fires, climbed mountains, had sex with Brad Pitt, performed brain surgery on a hippo while touring Uganda with Sha Na Na. There are tons of amazing lies to be told—being a teacher, not one of them.

What’s off, however, is Davis never identifies where, when and what she taught. Like, never, ever, ever, ever. Given ample opportunities.

I bring this up because a district parent shared this 2024 e-mail exchange with Lisa, and I find it particularly bewildering and deliberately evasive …

Like, if one becomes a fire chief, and someone asks, “So, where were you a firefighter?”—it’s not a controversial question. It’s a reasonable one. If one becomes manager of the Twins, and someone asks, “Where’d you play your college ball?”—also not controversial. Backgrounds matter. They provide context. Detail. History. A roadmap.

But Lisa Davis, for some reason, avoids this inquiry like a batch of moldy cottage cheese. Last year, for example, she appeared on the very friendly The RAAD Life, where she was asked about her history.

Her response …

Um.¹

What troubles me most—what has long troubled me most about the board’s Stepford barbershop quartet—is the glaring lack of transparency. The women all ran on this we’re-just-soccer-moms platform, largely failing to mention their collective religious zealotry; their desire to have Christianity enter the scholastic discussion; their acceptance of hefty assistance from local right-wing churches; their willingness to replace kindness and empathy with culture wars and homophobia/transphobia/arachibutyrophobia². But instead of being straight shooters who preside in the open, they sneak around, keep shit quiet, meet on side zooms with fringe nuts who provide let’s-mess-with-the-libs marching orders (We’re looking at you, Frank Rodriguez! Thug life!). It’s exasperating and infuriating and, mostly, depressing. Wouldn’t you want to do the right thing on a school board? Especially if you deem yourselves servers of Christ? Like, doesn’t decency matter? Doesn’t accountability matter?

And, even if this is a small issue, why in Allah’s name does Lisa Davis refuse to say, “This is where I taught. These are the schools. These are the years”?

Why is she hiding her history?

What are we missing?

1. This dude’s tangent about where he attended college violates one of the biggest rules of journalism: Don’t kill an interview with your own meandering spewings.

2. Arachibutyrophobia is the fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of the mouth. I sorta just tossed that one into the mix.