Hollywood actors and wealthy West Coast parents embroiled in college admission scandals, step aside. The Midwest is here to represent.

The latest episode of Parenting of the Rich and Connected takes place in the Missouri Legislature. You might think us simpletons stuck in flyover country, but our power players don’t mess with bribes and lame Photoshop to “help” their kids.

Black Hawk-level helicopter dad and lobbyist Richard McIntosh took it to another level after St. Louis’ Washington University expelled his son last year. He was kicked out after a Title IX investigation found him responsible for sexual misconduct severe enough to warrant expulsion.

Here’s some context on how often a rape allegation leads to expulsion. According to the university’s Clery statistics, 122 rapes were reported on campus from 2013 to 2017. Since 2013, only seven students have been expelled for Title IX violations, according to Lori White, vice chancellor for student affairs.

McIntosh’s son is in rare company indeed.

But back to the real star of our story. After power dad McIntosh’s son was kicked out, he didn’t try to grease hands at the university. That’s so amateur hour. Instead, he began lobbying to change the law for every college and university in the state! He started a dark money group called Kingdom Principles (an ironic flourish for you, Hollywood), dedicated to gutting Title IX protections for those who report sexual misconduct and assault. He got St. Louis billionaire David Steward to help fund his mission. In another made-for-TV-twist, Steward is on the board of trustees for Wash U. The dark money group bought polling and ad time, and hired 29 lobbyists, some of whom passionately framed the agenda as a way to protect the civil liberties of black men.

Nary a word was said about who else the law might help. The Kansas City Star helpfully dug up the hidden personal connection.

There’s another plot twist.

Not only did McIntosh want this law to go into effect immediately, he pushed for it to allow accused students to appeal the results of Title IX hearings to the state Administrative Hearing Commission. Guess who is the presiding and managing commissioner of that commission? McIntosh’s wife, Audrey Hanson McIntosh. His son could appeal his expulsion to his mom’s commission.

A move like that takes more cojones than delivering bags of cash to a lacrosse coach.

The state’s colleges were against these changes, which they said would discourage students from reporting rape and sexual misconduct on campus. Plus, the original language of the legislation seemed more than a bit vindictive. If that legislation had passed, students who were cleared on appeal by the commission (again, a commission led by an expelled student’s mother) could sue their former universities, the campus staff and their accusers for damages. It allowed lawyers to cross-examine sexual assault survivors about their drinking and past sexual history.

Making the law retroactive was an especially nice touch. Those conditions were later stripped.

The fact that paid guns claimed that the law was designed to protect black men -- not the son of a wealthy white lobbyist -- is just Missouri being extra. During the debate, a Democratic legislator challenged fellow lawmakers, who claimed to be awfully concerned about protecting the due process of the accused, to guarantee lawyers for students who couldn’t afford them.

Missouri Republicans essentially said “hell to the naw” on that one.

The Senate version of the bill ran into a filibuster last week from Democrats, and the legislative session is winding down in a few weeks. McIntosh and his army of lobbyists will need to shift into overdrive to make good for his son.

In hindsight, maybe buying the Harvard fencing coach’s house has a better return on investment. Harvard is investigating a possible conflict of interest in that case. Missouri Republicans pushing McIntosh’s pet project seem far less concerned about conflicts of interest.

In some circles, McIntosh may win father of the year.

When I heard that an image of an assistant principal in my child’s school had been labeled with the n-word in a student’s Instagram video, it stung. We know there’s been a spike in hate crimes and bigotry in schools over the past three years.

When it involves someone you know, it becomes personal.

I didn’t hear about the incident through any official school communication. It’s usually the grapevine that spreads this sort of news. I called school officials to ask how it was handled. But due to privacy laws, the district cannot share information about specific punishments.

I get that.

The post was taken down, I was told, and there were consequences given. I wondered why this felt insufficient. What role should schools take in combating a rising tide of bigotry that reflects what we are witnessing in society at large? How should they address issues that more often arise on social media, outside of school buildings?

First, let’s begin by calling it what it is.

In a note that went out to teachers about a racist incident that occurred over spring break, Parkway Superintendent Keith Marty described the situation as “racially charged.” Many other districts across the region that have dealt with similar issues have used this term to describe the behavior in question. I asked Marty about this choice of words.

To him, the phrase denoted the impact felt by those targeted by the behavior.

“I’m not trying to diminish it,” he said. But to me, it sounds like mincing words to avoid calling a spade a spade.

I’ve had this same difficult conversation in my own newsroom. Recently, the Associated Press offered clarity on the issue. The AP Stylebook now advises journalists not to use euphemisms for “racist,” like “racially charged” or “racially tinged.”

You can’t confront a problem until you recognize it for what it is. This is especially true when trying to educate students on how to thrive in a diverse society. It’s also important for schools to communicate with parents when hateful incidents are reported and investigated because the impact is felt by minority students collectively. A reluctance to talk publicly about these issues suggests a reluctance to admit bigotry is a serious problem.

A parent in Missouri’s Webster Groves School District shared her frustration over how anti-Semitic incidents that happened last year were handled. Yael Shomroni, who is Jewish, criticized school officials who referred to swastikas as “graffiti.” She said the stories from students who witnessed anti-Semitic or racist acts were brushed under the rug with an unwillingness to confront them publicly.

“The parents don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “It’s uncomfortable to talk about.”

The district brought in the Anti-Defamation League for training, developed lessons on hate speech and discrimination, and created groups for students to discuss issues related to equity and inclusion.

“We’ve tried to create venues and opportunities both in structured and unstructured ways,” said John Simpson, Webster Groves superintendent. “We are talking about it because we are not there yet. Like our peer districts and the rest of the world, we have a long way to go.”

But they are making a systematic effort going forward, he said. School officials in several St. Louis-area districts have committed to hearing the concerns of students sharing what they have experienced and seen.

A way to heal and reduce future such incidents is by turning that listening into action. It’s by helping the rest of the student body understand why racist and bigoted language, symbols and acts are hurtful and unacceptable.

Young people have a way of reflecting the same messages they hear at home, in the media, from politicians, in the culture.

Schools need to be braver in pushing back.

In the fall of his senior year, Rico Beuford wasn’t sure if he was going to go to college at all.

His mom had died in a car accident when he was in grade school, and the deep sense of loss was hitting him again. He was filled with anger. He had moved out of his father’s house and was living with his aunt. Though he was taking all Advanced Placement classes at Parkway North High School in the St. Louis area, he was lashing out at his teachers. His life felt chaotic.

Then, a good friend’s mom intervened. Carla Feuer recognized what a promising student he was. She asked if he wanted a mentor to help him through the application process. He did.

She made sure he took his ACT on time. She kept him on track with application deadlines and suggested colleges for him to consider. She helped him navigate the financial aid quagmire. She read his essays for scholarship applications. She guided him in following up on emails with college officials when he wasn’t getting a response to his questions.

Next year, Beuford, now 24, will graduate from the University of Missouri at Kansas City. He was accepted into the accelerated medical school program right out of high school.

“His success is his success,” Feuer said. “I was just fortunate enough to be there to give him the support he needed.”

While the news headlines are dominated by wealthy parents cheating and bribing to get their kids into selective colleges, many low- and middle-income students don’t even have access to basic college counseling. High school counselors typically juggle hundreds of students and can’t provide the type of one-on-one counseling students need, especially those coming from families who have not been through the gantlet of college admissions.

David and Lois Zuckerman, founders of Mentors 4 College, saw this gap in 2011 when they started an all-volunteer corps of mentors to guide students in the Parkway School District, where their three children graduated. They trained other volunteers to mentor families with the aim of building college-savvy communities. The organization’s service to students is completely free to those within the district who ask for help.

The college admissions system is set up to favor those with resources, connections and know-how. A bunch of very rich families abusing the system is not surprising in the least, David Zuckerman said.

“It’s really about everyone else who is not getting any help,” he said. “There’s a much bigger problem that we are busy ignoring.” Finding the best post-high-school fit for a student, in terms of future goals and affordability, requires a few years of planning.

“Sixteen- and 17-year-olds are not the best planners,” he said. This major life decision is often fraught with emotions, which may override a student’s best long-term interests.

How remarkable would it be if parents in districts throughout the country took a similar approach to the students in their communities? Imagine if parents with recent experience adopted a student unfamiliar with the process and offered to support them through it.

Feuer said when she offered to help Beuford, her main thought was that he should have the same opportunities to succeed that her son had. She now laughs about how she wanted him to accept a full-ride scholarship that a different state school had offered him.

He was dead-set on becoming a doctor, and chose the program at UMKC.

“I was willing to gamble on myself,” he said.

Next year, he will walk across the stage with his medical degree.

Feuer plans to be there, cheering him on.