Taylor says he would restore academic basics, but his religious writings and sweeping COVID claims raise questions about the judgment he would bring to Oklahoma’s public schools.
By Tim Allen, Managing Editor
Oklahoma Republicans will choose their nominee for state superintendent Tuesday. The office does not need another crusader. It needs someone prepared to rebuild a struggling public-school system.
Oklahoma ranks near the bottom nationally in reading and mathematics. Schools face teacher shortages, classroom disruptions and the difficult work of helping students recover academically.
James Taylor says he would emphasize reading, writing, math, discipline and teacher support. Those are worthy priorities. But Taylor’s public record raises a larger question: Would academics remain his focus if he led the state Education Department?
Taylor is a classroom teacher, but he is also a senior pastor whose most thoroughly developed public philosophy concerns religion and the moral direction of society.
In a self-published book intended to guide Christians in politics, Taylor presents a deeply paternalistic view of women and family life. He argues that women need male supervision, should remain under male authority and should be protected from making major decisions on their own. He describes husbands as controlling the family, writes that divorce communicates something bad about God and calls homosexuality an “outbreak” arising from moral decline.
Taylor first published the book in 2015, reissued it this year and stood by its passages when questioned publicly.
He is entitled to those beliefs. Oklahoma’s state superintendent, however, does not lead a congregation. The office oversees a public-school system serving more than 600,000 students and families whose beliefs and circumstances vary widely.
Taylor has not adequately explained where his personal theology would end and public education policy would begin.
He blurred that line further in a recent television interview.
“Whether I’m teaching the Bible or whether I’m teaching the First Amendment, teaching is teaching,” Taylor said.
But they are not the same assignment. A pastor teaches religious doctrine to people who have chosen to attend a church. A public-school teacher—and especially a state superintendent—serves families of many faiths and no faith at all under constitutional limits that apply to government.
Skepticism is not evidence
Taylor’s public comments about COVID-19 raise a different but related concern.
Oklahoma City Public Schools fired Taylor and five other teachers in 2021 after they refused to comply with the district’s employee mask requirement. Taylor maintained that the district was ordering him to violate state law, and he has continued to defend his decision.
The legality and wisdom of pandemic mandates remain fair subjects for debate. Public-health guidance changed as scientists learned more about a new virus, and officials sometimes spoke with more certainty than the available evidence justified.
But during Monday’s televised runoff debate, Taylor went much further.
“Pretty much everything they told us about COVID turned out to be a lie,” he said.
That is not a measured criticism of a particular mandate or mistaken prediction. It is a sweeping rejection of an enormous body of evidence.
COVID was a real and deadly disease. Vaccines did not prevent every infection, but they substantially reduced severe illness and hospitalization, particularly during the most dangerous stages of the pandemic. Masks were imperfect and their effectiveness varied by type, fit and circumstance, but the evidence does not support Taylor’s claim that nearly everything the public was told amounted to a lie.
The state superintendent is not a public-health official. But the office requires the same basic discipline: examine evidence, distinguish uncertainty from deception and resist turning complicated questions into declarations of absolute certainty.
Taylor’s statement reflects something more troubling than pandemic-era disagreement. It reflects a willingness to replace nuance with a conclusion so broad that no evidence could reasonably support it.
Oklahoma has seen this before
That matters because Oklahoma has just lived through a state superintendent’s tenure dominated by Bible mandates, national television appearances and culture-war disputes.
Ryan Walters entered office promising to improve education. Instead, controversy repeatedly consumed attention while Oklahoma’s academic performance remained near the bottom.
Taylor says he is not Walters and points to differences in temperament. But the concern is not whether the two men have identical personalities. It is whether Oklahoma would again place its schools under someone whose ideological battles could overwhelm the ordinary, demanding work of education.
Prayer is important to many Oklahoma families. It is not a reading intervention. Sweeping claims about COVID are not a teacher-retention strategy. A worldview is not an administrative plan.
Robert Franklin offers more than four decades of experience as a special education teacher, principal and school administrator. His campaign emphasizes academic basics, management, collaboration and the fundamental responsibilities of public education.
Taylor’s views on women, homosexuality and COVID fall well outside the mainstream. Holding those views is his right. Asking Oklahoma voters to entrust him with a public-school system serving more than 600,000 children makes them relevant.
Franklin offers something less dramatic but more useful: experience, restraint and an understanding of how school systems actually work.
Oklahoma needs a superintendent prepared to lead its schools, not another officeholder looking for a platform from which to fight the culture war.
