Tim Swarens

tim.swarens@indystar.com

Tony Bennett has always been blunt. With teachers, with students, with voters. With his family. And these days, finally, with himself.

Bennett confessed, in a 90-minute conversation this week, that for four years as Indiana's top educator he didn't listen enough, didn't communicate effectively, insulated himself from political reality and ran a tone-deaf re-election campaign.

"I was really bad at messaging," he said over chili and salad at Harry & Izzy's. "Awful."

Then, perhaps thinking he hadn't been clear enough: "I was a shitty candidate."

To which, many teachers in Indiana heartily say, "Amen."

These days, Bennett seems to understand the animosity he fostered. After two years in the wilderness — years of disappointment, embarrassment, reflection — he's ready to acknowledge that his hard and fast push to improve Indiana's schools was perceived by many teachers as an indictment of their commitment and professionalism.

It got so bad that he even had to clarify his message close to home.

"My daughter Trish is a public school teacher. She asked me — this was near the end — if I thought she was a good teacher," Bennett said. "I told her, 'Of course. You're a wonderful teacher,' and she said, 'When I hear you say the things you say about teacher quality, I wonder if you're talking about me.'''

Thousands of other teachers thought Bennett was talking about them every time he insisted on the need to move mediocre educators out of Indiana's classrooms. And they pushed back hard.

Teachers, generally well-respected and well-connected in their communities, make, when activated, a powerful grassroots network; and that network was fully activated in 2012 to halt Bennett's political career, and to jump start Glenda Ritz's ascension as superintendent of public instruction.

So why bring up Tony Bennett now, two years after his political collapse? Why not let him reflect, and toil, in obscurity back in New Albany?

Three reasons: One, many of the reform policies Bennett championed — the A-F school grading system, private school vouchers, charter school expansion, more clear-cut teacher accountability, tougher academic standards, alternative routes to teaching — still shape Indiana's schools. Knowing the architect can help us better understand the design.

Two, much of the education debate in Indiana still is flavored by Bennett's tenure; witness the impassioned discussion this week about whether the state superintendent should be appointed by the governor rather than elected. Before Bennett, the role tended to be low key; now the job is at the center of numerous political and policy debates.

Three, many other education reform leaders have made the same blunders as Bennett. The tendency inside the movement is to make enemies of educators when allies are needed.

So there are lessons to be learned from a humbled Tony Bennett, and one of them is to think hard about what you communicate.

Bennett has been a lot of things in life — teacher, principal, superintendent, politician, consultant. But it was his time as a high school basketball coach — his teams won four sectional titles at Scottsburg High — that shaped him the most.

On the sidelines, cold honesty can be a strength. So is a relentless drive to push for more, to coax and even to heckle a team to reach beyond its perceived limits.

But those traits often don't play well in other arenas, and that's a lesson Bennett was slow to learn. To illustrate the point, Bennett tells another story, involving the same daughter who is now a teacher.

"Years ago, Trish's team was in an AAU tournament in Florida," Bennett said "She wasn't playing much, and after one game, she was crying in the car about not getting off the bench. I told her, 'You're not playing, because you're not good enough.' "

Bennett then explained to his daughter, about 12 at the time, what she needed to do to become a better player. She eventually became a Division I college player. The coach got results, whatever the cost as a dad.

In 2009, Bennett entered office determined to apply the same forcefully honest approach to pushing for higher student achievement in Indiana. The motivation, if not the tactics, was warranted.

The education gap in Indiana — the state's workforce ranks 42nd in the nation in college degree attainment — is enormously expensive in terms of lower wages, a smaller tax base and a reduced quality of life for millions of Hoosiers. Far too many workers, including a huge number of post-high school young adults, simply aren't well prepared for the demands of the modern economy. Our state and our people suffer tremendously as a result.

With the blessing of Gov. Mitch Daniels — Bennett says they were in complete alignment on policy — the new superintendent moved aggressively to shake up the Department of Education and to rattle the complacency of the education establishment.

It didn't take long for Bennett to spark anger. District superintendents, his former colleagues, warned that he was crippling traditional public education by diverting tax dollars to private schools and public charters. Teachers objected both to the tone and the substance of his efforts to raise expectations in the classroom. And his feud with Indiana State Teachers Association President Nate Schellenberger — a forerunner of the current ugliness between Glenda Ritz and the State Board of Education — was particularly fierce and personal.

Bennett now admits he saw enemies where he should have made friends.

"I made the mistake of not remembering what Ronald Reagan said, 'My 80-percent friend is not my 20-percent enemy,' " Bennett said. "I saw anyone who disagreed with me on an issue like vouchers as a defender of the status quo."

People close to him, including his wife, pleaded with Bennett to temper his rhetoric. Daniels, who Bennett still praises effusively, would shake his head behind the scenes at the antics of the leader he called "Coach."

But Bennett ignored the advice. The coach had no patience for anyone who lacked his sense of urgency. To him, the clock was ticking and the game was on the line.

Then came the 2012 election, and Bennett was tossed from the game.

Bennett said he knew three weeks out from Election Day that defeat was imminent. School visits weren't going well and the internal poll numbers were weak.

Although the rejection by voters was painful and humbling, Bennett quickly found a place to land. Florida Gov. Rick Scott called soon after the election to offer a promotion — run the education system in the nation's fourth largest state.

Despite the turmoil at home, Bennett had built a reputation as a national leader in education reform. His name had even been whispered as a potential U.S. secretary of education if Mitt Romney had won the White House in 2012. The storyline inside the reform movement was that Bennett was just another victim of the teacher unions — a badge of honor, not a fatal flaw.

But the rebound wouldn't last.

Throughout most of our conversation, Bennett was open and reflective. He laughed a lot, including at his own foibles. "Ask me anything," he said more than once. But he became more reticent when I asked about his time as Florida's education chief.

Bennett describes himself as naive when he arrived in Tallahassee. In Indiana, politics tends to be two-hand touch. In Florida, it's as brutal as NFL game days. Bennett was pancaked on the opening kick-off, and he still seems to be trying to figure out what hit him.

"I loved the work every day in Indiana," he said. "I didn't love it in Florida."

But his past in Indiana also came back to clobber him. A story broke in July 2013 that Bennett had intervened to get a charter school's state grade changed. Christel DeHaan, a major Republican donor, had founded the school, and the appearance was that a man who had preached high standards and tough accountability was willing to bend the rules behind the scenes for his friends.

Bennett denied that accusation, then and now. The formula for grading schools is complex, he said, although he acknowledges he often made it sound simple. Adjustments on grades are routine.

Although a state investigation eventually cleared of him wrongdoing, Bennett resigned as Florida's top educator shortly after the Christel House story was published. For the second time in less than a year, Bennett was without a job.

Even worse he was now toxic in political circles.

Another blow landed a few weeks later. A database from his re-election campaign had been found on a Department of Education server, and he also was accused of instructing state employees to critique a speech by then candidate Ritz. Both charges, if proven true, would be violations of state ethics rules. Bennett eventually settled the case by agreeing to pay a $5,000 fine.

Bloodied at home, and bruised in Florida, the one-time face of education reform in Indiana quietly returned to New Albany to heal.

Today, Bennett insists that he doesn't miss his high-profile past. He's happy, he says, spending time with his wife and four children, playing golf with friends, babysitting the grandchildren on weekends. He trained for a marathon this year with Trish, the teacher and basketball-playing daughter. He still picks up work as an education consultant, but at age 54, he said he's ready for a slower pace.

Still, amid all the reflection, a sense of regret emerges.

As we talked, Bennett brought up the names of a few heroes — Duke basketball coach Mike Krzyzewski, Gen. George S. Patton, and Teddy Roosevelt, the progressive president who drove change with a "bully pulpit."

I mention Candice Millard's, "The River of Doubt," the story of Roosevelt's dark days exploring the Amazon river basin after losing the 1912 presidential election.

Tony Bennett laughs and nods.

And then quietly says, "I've been on the river of doubt for two years."

Contact Swarens at tim.swarens@indystar.com. Follow him on Twitter @tswarens.