Tumult in Long Prairie: A superintendent dismissed. Students walking out. A school board under fire.

LONG PRAIRIE, MINN. – The school district superintendent dressed up as the school mascot, Thor, on football nights. He read the graduation address in both English and Spanish. He set up office hours in the cafeteria, granting easier access for students.

But now, two months into the school year, Daniel Ludvigson is gone. Or rather, "on special assignment," according to the terminology of the Long Prairie-Grey Eagle School Board, which voted 4-3 earlier this month to remove him as superintendent. The move came weeks after voting to not renew his contract, which expires at the end of the school year in June.

Four board members — two of whom voted to oust Ludvigson, including Board Chair Kelly Lemke — are up for re-election next week.

The dismissal is the latest blow in this central Minnesota community on the edge of the prairie. Over the last nine months, the town of 3,400 residents and seat of Todd County has lost its mayor, a city manager, two school board members, and now its superintendent.

Students walked out earlier this month in support of Ludvigson. Signs in support of Ludvigson can be seen across town on the lawns of apparent Democrats and Republicans alike. And last week, hundreds packed the American Legion off Hwy. 71 to eat beef sandwiches and sign support letters for Ludvigson, who only swung by to pick up his child for hockey practice.

In a time of great divide in America, this fight has nothing to do with politics.

"You've got Harris buttons and Trump hats side by side, arm in arm," said Amanda Hinson, a former local newspaper reporter who is concerned the board is not being upfront about why they placed Ludvigson on special assignment. "We want transparency in our government."

School board members say Ludvigson has repeatedly shown he is not ready for the prime time of a school district bigger than the one in central North Dakota he arrived from two years ago. They have twice disciplined Ludvigson, but did not state the reason for placing him on "special assignment," beyond insinuating that staff are afraid to raise official complaints.

Erin Jager, a newly appointed member of the school board, said recent behavior necessitating the board's actions are "honestly worse" than the dispute that led to his suspension in April.

"People are so scared to come forward," Jager said. "This is not a leader who should be in charge of any kind of school district."

But Jerry Von Korff, an attorney representing Ludvigson, points out that the board has not told anyone, including his client, why they moved him to "special assignment," calling the board's actions illegal. A school cannot hire two superintendents and must properly charge the current one of wrongdoing in a private meeting, which hasn't happened.

"It's not how you do it," Von Korff said.

Tensions came to a head after board members approached him about tawdry photos circling from a trailer park-themed social mixer in March with school staff, including Ludvigson, dressing up for a murder-mystery party in stereotypical "hillbilly" clothing. At a private meeting, the superintendent crumpled up a printout of one photo handed to him by a board member. So the board suspended him with pay for three days.

According to an April 2 letter Lemke wrote to Ludvigson, she said board members felt "uncomfortable, fearful, and intimidated by your behavior," adding that his behavior was "inappropriate."

Lemke, in an email to the Minnesota Star Tribune, added: "Mr. Ludvigson became enraged, yelling, cursing. [H]e grabbed the paper from the school board member and tore it in half."

It was Ludvigson's second documented offense. A year earlier, the board issued a written reprimand alleging that he broke data privacy rules by sharing unredacted job applications to a public website.

"While the data breach is concerning," the board's letter continued, "the greater concern is the way this was handled."

The letter alleged that Ludvigson, when approached with the data breach violation, asked the board to name the person who "told on him," suggesting he was interested in retaliation.

Ludvigson declined to speak with the Star Tribune for this story but shared a letter he wrote to the community last week, released in both English and Spanish, in which he said, "This is a difficult situation, but it is our choice how we respond to it." He asked residents to respond with "connection over division."

Earlier this month, the board hired an interim superintendent to fill out Ludvigson's term until June 2025. The move further angered many residents. Board meetings have become contentious, and signs for school board races dot lawns across the community.

"We're the second-poorest county in the state, but the board has no issues spending [another salary] on an interim superintendent," said Randy Mechels, a local businessman, farmer and school alumni. "Nothing's been told to the community."

'Just crazy business'

Long Prairie is a meat-packing town surrounded by woods and pastureland, not far from the tourist lakes to the north. While rural communities in Minnesota have struggled with population decline over the last decade, Long Prairie has been a bright spot — largely because of local meat-processing plants that are providing steady employment.

The school counts nearly 1,000 students from kindergarten to high school. Roughly 60% of students are Latino. Downtown, Hispanic restaurants and shops interlace the main street with a veteran's park, pharmacy, and the county courthouse.

Earlier this year, the town drew attention for a fight over a proposed employer-backed housing complex for workers — many of them immigrants — at the local beef packing plant. When the dust cleared, the mayor and city manager had resigned.

When Ludvigson arrived two years ago, moving to town with his wife and three children, it was his openness to this community that endeared him to teachers and parents alike. He worked to read Spanish with students still learning English whose parents spent long days out at the slaughterhouse or lived in the mobile home park.

Many in town welcomed the easygoing demeanor. The local teacher's union has also supported Ludvigson.

"We don't really know why the board feels the need to remove him," said Jennifer Olson, an English teacher at the high school. "I've been here for 30 years, and he shows up more than any other super[intendent]."

But Ludvigson, a former art teacher, drew scrutiny from some in town, including a few board members. He routinely wears his distinctive three-piece suits and peppers his remarks with humor. He shares to his YouTube account social-emotional learning tips. In one post, he is seen cracking a joke about cowboy hats being "church attire in North Dakota."

Former Mayor Jodi Dixon, speaking last week at at the American Legion dinner in support of Ludvigson, said she approached the new superintendent at a town festival parade in the summer of 2022.

"I went to introduce myself and welcome him to the community, and then he goes, 'How do you deal with the haters?'" Dixon recalled.

Beginning in 2023, the board began scrutinizing Ludvigson more closely.

"We did a $10,000 investigation with a court judge" a year ago, said Linda Gohman, a school board member. "He came back and said, 'There's nothing here. I find nothing.'"

Months later, animosity came to a head after the trailer park-themed staff murder-mystery party in March.

In clips shared with the Star Tribune, staff members attending the Saturday night social mixer dressed up in flannel and cut-off denim. In one photo (not with Ludvigson), three attendees pose next to a makeshift trailer. A toilet seat is visible next to a cardboard sign reading "Lot 69."

In a post to his Facebook page, Ludvigson shared a photo of him holding up a "Suspect" sign in the "Trailer Park Tragedy" and wrote, "Fun for all who participated. Spoiler - I wasn't the murder [sic]."

Board members say they received complaints over the photos, especially for a district where many children live in a mobile home park across the road from the slaughterhouse. When board members asked Ludvigson to remove the image from his page, he complied. Still, the board suspended him.

In the ensuing months, two members of the Long Prairie-Grey Eagle school board — both supporting Ludvigson — left the board. At the August board meeting, two newly appointed members to the board voted with the 4-3 majority to not renew Ludvigson's contract beyond 2025.

Those in the minority on the board fume, saying there's long been a vendetta against him.

"It's bizarre and to have it happen here is just crazy business," said Gohman.

Locals say filling administration roles in Long Prairie, like many small towns, is already a difficult task.

Jeremiah Zahnow, who is running for the school board, said he didn't enter the race to fight about the superintendent. During the dinner held at the Legion in support of Ludvigson, he said he believes there are "some big holes" in how the board has processed his ouster.

"It's been a rough year for our community," Zahnow said, over a paper plate of barbecues and a pickle. "I mean, normally, nobody wants to run for school boards."