I'm Sam Phelps — a father, not a politician. Our kids deserve a board that answers to them. Livermore graduates 97% of its students, but the state's own numbers show our most vulnerable kids sliding backward — and almost nobody is talking about it. I intend to.
97% of our kids graduate. Barely half finish the courses UC and CSU require. Let's talk about that.
I have a teenager at Livermore High right now. I have two little ones who will walk into these same schools in a few years. Whatever this board decides, my family lives inside the result of it — not for one election cycle, but for the next fifteen years.
That's my stake in this. Every decision this board makes, my family lives with — same as yours.
These are the state's own figures, most recent year available. Not opinions, not spin — the same reports the board reads and files away.
Share of Livermore graduates who finished the courses UC and CSU require for admission.
Livermore English learners meeting the state math standard — barely half the county rate.
Points our low-income students' scores have dropped in both reading and math since 2019, while the district-wide average held steady.
Sources: CDE DataQuest 2024–25 cohort graduation & UC/CSU course completion; CAASPP 2019 and 2025 district results, California Department of Education.
Not twelve. Three. A board member who promises everything delivers nothing.
Livermore graduates 97% of its students. That's real and I'll say so. But barely half of those graduates — 52.9% — finished the courses UC and CSU require. In Dublin and Pleasanton it's about 81%. A diploma should open doors — for too many of our kids, it doesn't.
Underneath that, our low-income and Latino students have lost about four points on state tests since 2019 while the district average held flat. And here's the one that keeps me up: our English learners score worse in math than in reading. Everywhere else in this county it's the other way around — math is less language-loaded. That is not a poverty problem you can shrug at. That is an instruction problem, and it is fixable.
I want every board meeting to open with the same question: what did we do this month for the kids furthest behind?
On February 6, this board agreed to pay a departing superintendent $364,000 — a full year's salary — in a separation agreement. Eighteen days later, it approved $14.8 million in cuts.
Livermore is now on its fourth superintendent in four years, and the district went from a positive budget certification to a qualified one inside a single year. Whatever the reasons — and some were outside anyone's control — the pattern is the same: churn at the top, cuts closest to the kids.
I'm not going to pretend a school board can conjure money. I am going to ask, out loud, at every single meeting: does this dollar reach a classroom? If the answer is no, it needs a very good reason.
On January 13, families learned two elementary schools might close from a PDF attached to a board agenda, with about a month to respond. Three weeks later a superintendent separation was announced by press release on a Saturday morning — and to this day no one has said how the board voted, or whether it voted at all.
Board President Steven Drouin acknowledged it himself that January — "we've had trust issues with the community" — and to his credit, the board moved its meetings to the evening so working parents could actually attend. That was the right call. The next step is making that openness the habit, not the exception.
Parents here aren't asking to run the district. They're asking to find out before it's decided. Real notice. Plain-English numbers posted before the vote, not after. And a roll call on every consequential decision, every time.
I graduated from Amador Valley High, gave college a shot, and figured out fast it wasn't for me — so I went to work. Fifteen years in construction later, I'm a project manager for a mid-size general contractor: tight, budget-conscious work where a quarter inch and a few thousand dollars both matter, and somebody is accountable when either goes wrong. That somebody is usually me. I also run RSVP, a direct-mail company serving contractors, restaurants, and small businesses around this valley — the people who actually hire this district's graduates. And I've had a teacher at my kitchen table for seven years: my fiancée taught fifth grade before stepping out of the classroom to raise our two youngest.
I've got a daughter at Livermore High right now and two little ones who'll be walking into these schools before I know it. I want a hand on the wheel while they're in it. And to be clear about where I stand: I'm not saying every kid belongs in college — I came up in the trades, and I'll take a good framer over a lot of degrees. I'm saying every kid should get to choose — and right now we're closing that door on nearly half of them before they ever walk out of it.
Both of my opponents are sitting trustees. I'm the only candidate for Seat 5 who isn't already on this board — and what I bring instead is fifteen years of pricing jobs. When a number comes across the table, I know whether it's real, whether it's padded, and whether it buys what it says it buys. Every budget has fluff and every budget has foundation; the job is cutting one without touching the other. And when the bids come in, I'd rather walk the site than sit through the presentation about it.
I'm not running against two people. I'm running against the idea that a 97% graduation rate means the job is done.
A class your kid can't get into. A board decision that made no sense. Something this district gets right that nobody says out loud. Whatever it is — that's exactly what I want to hear before November, not after.
sam@seat5sam.com — same inbox, same guy.
Not sure if Seat 5 covers your address? It's "Trustee Area 5" on the district's official map, on the elections page.
Election Day is Tuesday, November 3, 2026. Register at registertovote.ca.gov.