The only student on this embattled school board is determined to be the adult in the room

James “Trae” McVicker III listened in disbelief as his colleagues on the Harford County school board once again bickered over the same young adult novel about a gay teen.

“Flamer” by Mike Curato was a manual for suicide, then-member Mark Korn declared at the November meeting where the board decided to challenge a state ruling that would allow the book in school libraries.

McVicker, the sole student member, would much rather have been talking about something else.

“We had months where we wouldn’t even talk about student achievement in the boardroom,” the 17-year-old said. “It was just drama and drama and drama and drama.”

The adults, it seemed to the teenager, had lost the plot.

Maryland school boards are supposed to be nonpartisan, but politics increasingly take center stage during Harford’s twice-monthly board meetings that can stretch as long as three hours. Concerns about pool closings and aging playgrounds have been replaced by arguments over books and gender identity. On occasion it devolves into name-calling.

Through it all, McVicker strives to be the adult in the room, serving his yearlong term with a professionalism that earned him the family nickname “the 65-year-old man.” The recent Harford Technical High School graduate represents the district’s 37,000 students, yet his board vote is mostly symbolic, something he’s pushed to change.

Sometimes his investment seems to show little return. His fight for voting rights and his position on keeping “Flamer” in libraries fell on deaf ears. But the wins, such as approval of programs that help students with disabilities thrive, remind him why the work is so important.

The ambitious public servant

McVicker, who was accepted to all six of the colleges where he applied, calls winning the school board election one of the most exciting moments of his life. His board business card hangs on the kitchen fridge next to his dad’s, and he revels in his designated parking spot at district headquarters.

Like his schoolwork, he takes his board duties seriously.

The straight-A student is visiting all 55 Harford schools before the school year ends — juggling that with his internship at the county’s Office of Information and Communication Technology. Some schools have never seen a board member inside, he said. As of Friday, he had 12 left to go.

He shares the latest school system updates with students through his “Monthly Minute” videos on the school system’s YouTube page.

But McVicker happened to serve during the board’s most “interesting, theatrical” and political year, said Aaron Poynton, who was board president until February. He said he and former superintendent Sean Bulson wanted to prioritize academics and added an achievement-related topic to the board agenda each meeting.

“Unfortunately, we had what I call the ‘Fire of the Day,’” said Poynton. “Every week … there was some sort of community outcry about some issue, which was often dramatized and amplified by social media, which would take us off course.”

The controversies came fast and furious. The public critiqued leadership about hiring an employee with gun charges and debated whether a superintendent should keep his job after he was accused of infidelity on a work trip. Bulson was fired and Poynton resigned in the fallout.

McVicker said he knew the board was divided with “tense dynamics” from his work on the student council.

“It made me nervous to come in and have to … deal with that and figure out how to navigate some tough situations with other members and the community,” he said. “I’ve had to learn quickly, my emotions have to stay out of it.”

All worth it

McVicker initially wanted full voting rights, not just a “preferential vote” that doesn’t count toward the final decision. A vote from someone who represents Harford’s 37,000 students is crucial, he said. He worked with state legislators this school year on a bill that would grant his successors that power, but it didn’t get far.

Some adults firmly pushed back, too.

“We think that you should have zero voting rights and zero say in anything,” he recalled someone telling him. “You should just sit there and watch.”

Unsolicited advice has been common. During a February meeting, another adult cautioned the teen not to take credentials and job titles too seriously when weighing the opinion of others.

“Remember, it’s PhDs that don’t know what a woman is,” the man said.

McVicker, in his signature button-up shirt and suit jacket, listened quietly from the dais.

His parents often worried for his safety. They didn’t want their son hanging around headquarters too long when there were protesters. McVicker begged his dad not to engage with people online who called the teenager a pedophile because he supported keeping “Flamer” on school library shelves.

“Sometimes I just wanted to say, ‘If this was your child who was on the platform, would you still be making the same comments?’” his dad, James McVicker Jr., said.

Despite the concerns, his parents are proud of the work he does.

Link Sweeney said his stepson is doing work that’s bigger than himself. McVicker’s mom, Adrienne Eckley, said “there’s so many things that he’s able to take with him from this experience.”

The role is taxing “mentally, emotionally, physically,” the student said. Friends tell him he looks tired and he’s willing to sacrifice a Friday night to catch up on sleep.

“While it has been difficult, my love and passion for the position has not faltered at all,” said McVicker, who will study cybersecurity at Purdue University this fall.

The positive impact board decisions can have on students’ lives makes it all worth it, he said.