Justin Scott is a longtime advocate for secular government, public education, and civil rights. A passionate watchdog for church-state separation, he has spent years holding elected officials accountable for their policies and rhetoric. When he’s not engaging in activism, Justin is an involved parent, dedicated community member, and unapologetic smart-ass when the situation calls for it.

For around ten years now, Sandy Salmon has been serving in the Iowa legislature.

Okay, wait, sorry. That’s not right.

Present.

She’s been present. Yes, “present” seems like a better word to describe what a lot of us feel her time in Des Moines—and back home—has been.

For those of you who have ever been her constituents, her tenure as an elected official feels a whole lot like Weekend at Bernie’s.

Too often, Sandy acts like the cold, lifeless Bernie, while the rest of the Iowa GOP drags her along to keep the charade going. But in this version, Bernie is actually a nearly 70-year-old, uber-conservative Christian theocrat who rejects science, embraces Christian Nationalism, and spends more time waging culture wars than working to improve the lives of her constituents. Her focus? Railing against anything that isn’t white, straight, or Christian. And worse, she doesn’t just support bills that target marginalized groups—she drafts them.

First, it was queer people in general. Now, she’s zeroed in on trans folks.

This legislative session, she and her far-right peers have worked overtime to make life unbearable for our transgender neighbors, pushing a slate of cruel, unnecessary bills aimed at an already vulnerable population. And wouldn’t you know it—Sandy, ever the dutiful puppet, not only goes along with them but often leads the charge.

That’s why what happened this month at one of her regular town halls in Denver, Iowa (about 10 minutes north of Waterloo), was such a breath of fresh air.

Constituents confronted Sandy about attacks on public education—both state and federal—and asked for her stance on specialized learning plans for students with disabilities. Did this Senate Education Committee member sound like a champion for public education? A defender of vulnerable students? Did she present a well-articulated defense of the very system she claims to care about?

No. No. And hell no.

She went full Weekend at Bernie’s.

“What kind of a host invites you to his house for the weekend and dies on you?” – actual line from Weekend at Bernie’s … too fitting for a Senator Salmon townhall.

We’ve seen this script before. Ask her about the details of education policy, and she flops over like someone just cut the strings off a marionette. But mention ripping money away from public schools to fund Governor Kim Reynolds’ private school voucher scam—I mean, plan—and suddenly, she comes to life.

This time, she wasn’t given an easy out.

Enter Amy Lockhart—Denver parent, longtime (35+ years) education professional, and absolute star of the town hall.

Amy came to the forum on February 15 prepared with pointed, specific questions, expecting that someone on the Education Committee might have a working knowledge of specialized learning plans. And she wasn’t here for Weekend at Bernie’s cosplay.

She didn’t just vaguely ask about education—she was laser-focused and unrelenting. She made it impossible for someone on the Education Committee to fumble.

“I’m a 35-year educator and a professor of future teachers, and I am interested in your position on what we have been hearing lately on the dismantling of 504 plans because of your fear of a subgroup of those individuals who could be on a 504 plan,” Lockhart said. “What kind of impact does that have on other students who are receiving services through a 504 plan? And what is your understanding of a 504 plan versus an IEP for a student?”

This was Sandy’s moment.

If she actually understood these issues, she could have reassured the room that she wasn’t legislating away crucial student support systems.

Instead, we got stammering, confusion, and a crash course in how little she knows. And it was all caught on tape. (Sorry, young folks—another ’80s reference. That means I recorded it on my phone, not an actual tape.)

So there Amy sat, patiently explaining—alongside a Waterloo teacher and Denver’s own superintendent, Brad Laures—what 504 plans are, how they differ from IEPs, and how students will suffer if these protections disappear.

And I jumped in—not to educate Sandy, but to make sure she didn’t use this long exchange as a convenient deflection. Because if there’s one thing politicians like her excel at, it’s letting other people do the talking so they can avoid answering tough questions. (I see you, Chuck Grassley!) So while Amy provided the knowledge, I played referee, keeping the focus on getting a real response out of Sandy.

Yet despite coming from different worldviews, political affiliations, and perspectives on public education, all of us—teachers, parents, community members—had more knowledge and passion for these programs than the very person elected to support them.

America’s great, isn’t it?

Amy didn’t let Sandy off the hook, and I was there for all of it.

“Well, then you need to be the voice,” Lockhart said, her voice fueled by three-plus decades of watching Iowa’s public schools be underfunded and trans kids targeted. “You need to be that voice. Not just to protect that for all students who are serviced by the 504 program. So just because of one subgroup that may be a fear of some people, you’re taking a whole collective group of students who could be impacted by that.”

I may be an unabashed atheist, but if a god exists, I hope she would speak with the same clarity and force as Amy did when demanding that Sandy use her platform to actually protect students—including, and especially, trans kids.

“So, speak up,” Lockhart implored. Her final plea struck like a hammer, reverberating through the room with undeniable force.

Sandy just sat there.

Are we even surprised?

Sandy’s focus in Des Moines hasn’t been on public schools. Despite coming from an area with strong public schools—Janesville, Denver, and Waverly-Shell Rock—she keeps stringing them along while setting her sights on her real passion: homeschooling, private schools, and funnelling over $1 billion in taxpayer money to prop them up.

So the real question is: Is Sandy wildly incompetent, or is this all an act?

Because let’s be real—when it comes to injecting her brand of Christianity into government, into public schools, into taxpayer-funded initiatives, she’s loud, confident, and on point. If there’s a prayer breakfast, a Moms for Liberty event, or a Right to Life rally at the Capitol, she’s not only there but front and center, spreading her far-right rhetoric.

But the moment she’s asked to explain actual education policy?

Weekend at Bernie’s mode: engaged.

So, in closing, I hope Sandy sees this. I’ve emailed her multiple times this session and attended her town hall, but of course—no response.

Sandy, if you’re going to keep pretending to be a legislator, I have one request: at least learn about the topics you’re voting on.

We don’t expect a car mechanic to know everything, but we do expect them to know the basics—like not telling us our blinker fluid needs changing. Likewise, we should expect an Education Committee member to understand, at a minimum, how education actually works.

And if that’s too much to ask, Sandy?

Then get the hell out of our secular government.

Our statehouse is not a church, and none of us need to repent to you or anyone for simply existing. You are there to represent all Iowans, not just the ones who fit into your narrow ideological box.

So either step up and do the job, or step aside and let someone who values public education—and actually takes the time to understand the issues they’ve been elected to address—take the reins.