Ron Lankford eulogized

It is an honor to stand before you today as a former commissioner of education for the State of Missouri to celebrate the life and legacy of Dr. Ron Lankford and to reflect on his time as deputy commissioner of financial and administrative services at the Missouri Department of Elementary and Secondary Education.

You can imagine the swirl of text messages that occurred upon the news of Ron’s passing. Messages exchanged with former commissioners Chris Nicastro, Roger Dorson and Karla Eslinger; current interim commissioner Stacy Preis; former State Board of Education presidents Peter Herschend and Charlie Shields; many former and current DESE staff members; association executive directors Melissa Randol and Doug Hayter; Missouri educators; and friends from the Capitol shared remarkably consistent sentiments:

Great mentor. Dear friend. One of the best people I have ever known. Blessed to have known and loved him. The cookie guy. Excellent educator. Wonderful person. Storyteller. Good and decent man. I miss him.

When I spoke with Christina earlier this week, she told me she was looking forward to hearing more about what her father’s time in Jefferson City was like. So, I’ll do my best to paint that picture.

When Ron joined DESE in 2010 as deputy commissioner, he brought with him the perspective of someone who had lived every challenge facing local schools. He understood educators because he had been one. He understood school boards because he had worked alongside them. He understood budgets because he had balanced them. And most importantly, he understood students because they were always at the center of every decision he made. He was their champion.

As deputy commissioner, Ron oversaw the financial and administrative operations responsible for distributing billions of dollars to Missouri schools and supporting the systems that make public education possible. We all know how much he loved spreadsheets, budgets, and data. But what made Ron special was that he never saw those things as numbers on a page.

He understood that every dollar (or, because this is Ron, I should probably say every penny) represented something real.

A classroom.

A teacher’s salary.

A child in a small Missouri town who deserved a great education.

He never lost sight of that.

Ron possessed a rare ability to navigate complex challenges while keeping people united around a common purpose. During a period marked by difficult fiscal realities, changing educational expectations, and significant statewide discussions about education, Ron became a trusted voice for educators across Missouri. He understood that education policy is never simply about regulations or budgets. It is about creating opportunities for young people and strengthening the communities they call home. And he knew the education community was doomed if we didn’t stand together on these issues.

One thing I admired about Ron was that he never lost sight of his “why.” He introduced me to the work of Simon Sinek and the importance of identifying why our work mattered. He believed deeply in public education as the foundation of a strong democracy and a prosperous future. He believed in teachers. He believed in principals. He believed in local communities. And he believed that every child deserved access to a high-quality education, regardless of where they lived.

Ron’s leadership was characterized by steadiness and practicality. His wisdom was sought by commissioners, superintendents, legislators, and educators alike because people knew his advice was grounded in experience, honesty, and genuine concern for students and Missouri’s future.

But what was it REALLY like to work with Dr. Ron Lankford?

For starters, I can’t tell you what time he arrived at work because he was always the first one there. He parked in the same spot every day, and you always knew it was Ron because of his perfectly fitting license plate: “2EDUC8.”

By mid-morning, he would be making his rounds through the Jefferson Building. It’s hard to describe his walk, but you can probably picture it. He would zip around the agency, stopping to talk with people, shaking hands, and calling everyone by name – no matter their role. He knew the cooks, the custodians, and probably the servers’ kids’ names by the time we finished lunch.

And we quickly learned to build extra time into any trip to the Capitol with Ron because he would stop and talk with everyone along the way. Instead of “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon,” we called it “Six Degrees of Ron Lankford.”

Everybody knew Ron. (Although I think he secretly enjoyed being mistaken for Chevy Chase on occasion.)

And Ron knew everybody.

While he could appear stoic, even intimidating at times, some of my favorite memories are of Ron laughing. Really laughing. He knew how to enjoy a good joke. And he knew how to tell a great story.

He had a language all his own that we soon learned to decode.

If we were discussing whether to waive a policy, Ron would say: “Before you take the fence down, you’d better know why it was put up in the first place.”

When I wanted to take on an adversary, he would remind me: “Never wrestle with a pig. You’ll both get dirty, and the pig will enjoy it.”

And when he disagreed with a recommendation, he would simply say: “That dog won’t hunt.”

Remarkably, these and so many other Lankfordisms have stayed with me more than 10 years later.

Ron was incredibly precise. He loved a balanced budget, a well-organized spreadsheet, and a carefully designed process. He was a dream finance guy to work with. And that precision carried over into other areas of his life.

He even taught me how to hang office pictures perfectly straight, using small stick pins.

And once, he told me he had marked his shower knob at exactly the right temperature so he wouldn’t have to spend time figuring it out every morning.

That’s Ron.

Thoughtful. Efficient. Precise.

But, above all, Ron lifted others up.

One time, we attended a ceremony where the speaker shared the story of the turtle on the fencepost, a reminder that turtles don’t get on fenceposts by themselves; someone helps lift them up. The story was about mentorship, and it quickly became a running joke at DESE among the many people he mentored there.

When he retired, we created video clips of staff simply saying: “Ron Lankford, you lift me up.”

And he did.

For so many of us, Ron lifted us up.

I was fortunate to see Ron a little over a month ago, and during that brief visit he told me he was purchasing a brick paver for the MU Legacy Walk for an educator we admired, as he had likely done for a number of you here today. I think he told me he holds the record for the most pavers purchased. Even then, he was thinking about how to recognize someone else’s contributions and remind them of the legacy they were leaving. It struck me that he was still finding ways to lift others up.

No matter how much he loved his work, he couldn’t wait to get home.

Carolyn, he was so proud to be your husband. At the office, he would often pull out a picture of you and refer to you as his rock.

Craig and Christina, we know he loved you deeply. But if we’re being honest, once the grandchildren arrived, you had some serious competition.

You simply could not get him to stop talking about his grandkids.

Grandkids, he was proud of each of you, and we always considered ourselves lucky when he brought you to Jefferson City so we could meet the people he loved most.

I know it was a sacrifice for each of you to have him serving away in Jefferson City, and I thank you for it.

Missouri is stronger because Ron Lankford chose to serve.

Now comes the hardest part of these remarks for me.

At DESE, we always called Ron “the closer.”

I would lead a meeting or speak at a conference and often wander all over the place. Then we would call on Ron to close. He had a remarkable ability to bring everything together, make sense of it all, and leave people feeling good about why they had come.

So today, as I stand here trying to offer closing words for my closer, I want to use Ron’s own words.

In a 2016 news article, Ron said:

“We spend too much time dealing with the negatives. Don’t wallow in them. Turn them loose and get to the positives.”

That sounds exactly like Ron.

And perhaps there is no better way to honor him than to carry that spirit forward: to lift others up, to focus on what matters most, and to B Positive.

Thank you, Ron, for your service, your leadership, your friendship, and your unwavering belief in the promise of Missouri’s children.

May we honor your memory by continuing the work you loved so well.