An odd mix of bedfellows gather in a stuffy, second-floor classroom of Patrick Henry Elementary School on Richmond’s South Side. Policy makers and parents of all stripes — Republican and Democrat, liberal and conservative — assemble on this muggy June afternoon.

The occasion is Gov. Bob McDonnell’s signing of legislation that represents his administration’s first foray into public education reform; the laws he would sign pave the way for more charter schools by improving the application and review process.

McDonnell is flanked by predictable allies, among them Republican state Del. Scott Lingamfelter and Republican state Sen. Steve Martin. But there are also the unpredictable — Richmond-area Democrats including delegates Joe Morrissey and Rosalyn Dance.

Although the classroom is uncomfortably warm, it is fitting that the bills become laws here because, McDonnell says, they will provide “new and expanded access to the American Dream.”

Jay Paul photo

His political fortunes — at least to the extent that they’re influenced by his performance on public education — have been inexorably tied to Patrick Henry, a decaying, 80-year-old Richmond school that once anchored this neighborhood of Victorian houses surrounding Forest Hill Park.

More specifically, his fortunes are tied to the new Patrick Henry School of Science and Arts; when it opens its doors on Aug. 11, it will become Virginia’s first elementary charter school. 

In many ways, supporting the new Patrick Henry has made political sense for McDonnell. It’s the result of a grass-roots school-choice campaign at its best.

But backing Patrick Henry is also a political risk for the conservative McDonnell — in fact, for any politician hoping to avoid the quagmire of the state’s racist past.

Funded with public dollars, Patrick Henry, like all charter schools, will be open to all students, and it will be subject to the usual standardized tests. Still, Patrick Henry, simply because it’s a charter school, stirs 60-year-old memories of the state government’s efforts to resist a federal order to desegregate and a school-choice movement that allowed white students to attend private schools with public money.

As a result, Patrick Henry’s board has struggled to overcome preconceptions, prove itself to black parents and deflect accusations leveled by some of Richmond’s black leaders.

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In February — after Patrick Henry’s leaders discovered that the per-pupil funding used by charter schools wasn’t yet included in the School Board’s proposed budget — the governor’s senior policy adviser Eric Finkbeiner laid out the stakes. “Failure is not an option. … We’re committed to supporting Patrick Henry and making it succeed.”

That kind of backing is the reason that Patrick Henry’s leaders aligned themselves with McDonnell, whose political allies include the religious right. Teaming up with McDonnell presented a struggle for Patrick Henry’s supporters, composed of largely liberal, middle class urbanites. Even the school’s educational premise — ecology-based outdoor classrooms — reflects philosophies unlikely to be found under the GOP’s tent. Some balked when McDonnell’s campaign approached them in the months leading up to the November election. But Patrick Henry’s leaders viewed alliance with McDonnell as their best hope for success.

“Last September, you know, we were at a point where we needed all the help we could get,” says Patrick Henry board member Antione Green; his ties with members of McDonnell’s campaign staff — as well as his visibility in the city’s black political circles — helped cement the relationship.

The school already has weathered a yearlong delay and faced a new Richmond School Board. Green said that some of Patrick Henry’s board members objected to the alliance with McDonnell, “but I had to frame it in practical terms.”