It's 4:54 p.m. on July 31, and I'm standing outside the Arkansas Secretary of State's office with a clipboard wondering what to do next. It has been a whirlwind of a day, preceded by a whirlwind of a weekend, collecting signatures for CAPES (Citizens for Arkansas Public Education and Students) to force a referendum on the LEARNS Act.
Suddenly a young man is standing in front of me, seemingly out of nowhere. "Is it too late to sign?"
"No!" I say, and hand him the clipboard while reciting the brief instructions for signing that I've been repeating for the past six weeks. He signs. I sprint to the notary I have been using all day because she's already seen my ID. I get the signature notarized so this young man, who popped out of his office just before quitting time, can have his signature count, his voice heard.
The notarized petition is handed over to volunteers inside at 4:57. They find the correct box, put the signature packet inside as I get out of everyone's way. Then Steve Grappe, executive director of CAPES, is saying, "Step away from the boxes." The noise and activity is such that he has to say it more than once. And then everyone is quiet, to listen to the process of turning these petitions over to the Secretary of State.
My husband Tom and I first learned of CAPES shortly after the 2023 legislative session. The LEARNS Act had been passed with almost no discussion by the supermajority of Republicans in the Legislature. Citizens, teachers, administrators, and education advocates who tried to have their voices heard were dismissed.
This bill would do many things, but the alarming thing was that it would take taxpayer money out of public schools and give it to private and charter schools. This same model has been tried in other states, and all evidence to date shows that not only is this not the education panacea Gov. Sarah Sanders makes it out to be.
It's not my aim to make arguments against LEARNS. Instead I want to commend the immense effort by CAPES, this "rag-tag army" of volunteers composed of people who have one thing in common: They care.
Tom and I started our personal efforts on a very warm Saturday in front of the Stone County Courthouse with a handful of other volunteers. We subsequently collected signatures at a Fourth of July event in Heber Springs, at concerts in Meadow Creek, at the Van Buren County Library, at our church in Little Rock, in downtown North Little Rock, and from the staff at the nursing home in West Memphis where Tom's mother was staying.
Why were we rushing all over the state? Because of a new (probably unconstitutional) requirement for ballot initiatives: We must get signatures from at least 3 percent of the people who voted in the last gubernatorial election in 50 of the 75 counties in Arkansas. Instead of being able to focus our canvassing on population centers, we had to develop and nurture volunteer teams around the state.
We don't know the results of the count as of this writing, but I can tell you the results, almost certainly unintended, for those of us who have been giving our hearts and free time to this effort:
We developed a statewide network of people who will stand up for the rights of "the least of these" and speak out for the people who will be most hurt by this legislation: the poor, the physically disabled and learning disabled, the marginalized, and the rural people who have been fighting for their schools ever since Sarah's daddy was governor.
We identified leaders who are willing to step up and serve. Some have already announced their intention to run for office.
We discovered a "litmus test" issue that unites Arkansans both rural and urban. Public schools are important in areas distant from urban centers, in a way that those of us in the "city" often fail to understand. They unite communities and create local pride.
We had to create an entirely new system of canvassing, and did it on the fly. The fact that we collected more than 50,000 signatures is a testament to the passion of our team and the passion of Arkansans about this issue.
We formed friendships and relationships with people who care as much as we do. We met people across the political spectrum who are passionate about this issue. We heard from teachers, administrators, homeschoolers, parents of special-needs kids, and even people who educated their children in private school (I am one). All of these people, after giving thought to this legislation, or after already experiencing the fallout, believe that it is a really bad idea.
Last Monday we collected thousands of signatures, on a workday, in a last push to meet the minimum number. We know that not everyone who wanted to sign had the opportunity. At 4 p.m., I still had friends contacting me asking for someone to come by their workplace so everyone could sign. I took petitions everywhere with me, and went door-to-door between my errands. So many people were extremely, almost in tears, grateful for the opportunity to sign.
I truly believe that if we could have had the full 90 days that we were supposed to have by law, we would have had twice the required number of signatures or more. Instead, Attorney General Tim Griffin needlessly delayed the process by twice rejecting our proposed referendum. In spite of all of the efforts to thwart our petition drive, we did amazing things, historic things, things that definitely qualify this rag-tag army as Arkansas superheroes.
And I promise you, when I look at the people we have met, the people who worked alongside us, the people united by this historic effort to defeat an unjust law, and the passion and determination of these people ... I know that this is just the beginning.
Regnat Populus, y'all.
Michelle Posey Nowlin is a photographer in Little Rock.