Summer | 2026
The Long View
"The main thing is the main thing — and that's the student."

Her name came from her father.
His name was Alan. When Alsandra Lewis was born in Cairo, Illinois, her mother took the Al from Alan and the Sandra she'd already chosen, and pressed them together into something new. It's a small story — the kind of origin detail that gets passed down and treasured — and it says something about where Alsandra Lewis has always drawn her sense of place and purpose: from family, from this ground, from the people who shaped her before she ever shaped anyone else.
She has lived in Mounds her entire life. She attended Cairo High School, graduated from Howard University in 1966, and then came home and spent the next forty-two years teaching — thirty-two of them at Meridian. French and English, generation after generation. She retired in 2009.
Sort of.
"I retired," she said. "But I'm not really retired."
She's back at the table now as part of Meridian's ongoing strategic planning process — this time not as a teacher but as a community member, bringing a perspective that spans more than half a century of watching this district grow.
"I've been on strategic planning committees before, as a teacher," she said. "Now I'm on the community side of it."
The goal of the current process, as she describes it, is practical and purposeful: build a plan that is actually workable, not a document that lives on a shelf. Mission, vision, goals, objectives — and underneath all of it, the same priority she named in the classroom for four decades.
"The main thing is the main thing — and that's the student," she said. "It's all hands on deck. Community, staff, parents, everybody in the district."
To understand why Alsandra Lewis speaks about education with this kind of grounded conviction, it helps to know where she stood when she was nineteen years old.
Howard University in the early 1960s was not a quiet place to study. Stokely Carmichael and the SNCC were on campus. The Civil Rights Movement was not something happening elsewhere — it was happening there, and students felt the pull of it constantly. "We were torn between being activists and being students," she recalled.
She missed the March on Washington by a matter of days. She had stayed home in Mounds to finish some things with family and arrived back in Washington just after the speech. But before she graduated, Martin Luther King Jr. came to campus and spoke in Cramton Auditorium.
"He was lights out," she said. "Charismatic. Just — he is a very special person."
She still speaks of him in the present tense.
She also speaks of the current moment with the measured alarm of someone who recognizes what she's seeing. She admires Jasmine Crockett and met Justin Pearson in person last year, moved by his courage in Tennessee. She references Reverend William Barber II's framing of a third reconstruction and nods at it without hesitation.
"Pivotal times," she said. "I never thought we would be here."
But she does not linger in despair. What she circles back to — always — is students. The social media, the guns, the noise, the pressure bearing down on young people who are simply trying to grow up.
"It's hard today," she said. "I really feel sorry for them."
Then she says something that cuts to the bone of why any of this — the planning, the community engagement, the institution itself — matters at all.
"It's not about anything except do we believe in human dignity? Do we believe in inalienable rights? Do we really believe in our founding documents?"
She does. And she has spent her life acting accordingly.
When she left teaching, she told her final senior class why. "I think it's time for me to go home," she told them, "because I can do more for you just staying and praying for you than being here one-on-one with you."
She said it was praying times.
She still believes that. And she still shows up anyway — at the planning table, in the hallways, in the conversation. Because for Alsandra Lewis, the long view and the present moment have always been the same thing.
The student. Always the student.
"That's why we're here," she said simply. "Yes. That's why we're here."
