The child care closure at UNO is reflective of a concerning trend: Across the country, universities, school districts and hospitals are shutting down affiliated child care programs at an alarming rate as the cracks in America鈥檚 child care system begin to widen into fissures.

Since the beginning of 2025, a growing number of institutions have closed or put forth plans to close on-site child care programs that serve employees and, in the case of universities, student parents. These include universities such as , , and the , along in Washington, Arizona, and Kentucky. During the same time, public K-12 districts 鈥� including in Michigan, in Missouri and in Colorado 鈥� have announced similar closures, as have hospital systems in , and .

In almost every case, administrators are pointing to rising costs as a key culprit. Indeed, absent public funding, large institutions cannot run a sustainable child care business, particularly as most institutionally-affiliated programs offer tuition discounts to employees. In the case of Baptist Health, a nonprofit health care organization in Arkansas, the system said it $2 million a year operating two of its child care centers.

While there may have been a time when such losses were manageable, these institutions are being buffeted by other headwinds. Many colleges, universities and school districts are dealing with declining enrollment numbers that have . A key federal funding program that helps colleges and universities subsidize child care for student parents 鈥� Child Care Access Means Parents in School (CCAMPIS) 鈥� has been held flat, which is a functional decrease in the face of inflation and rapidly rising child care costs.

Meanwhile, hospital systems are struggling with Medicaid cuts, rising labor costs, and tariffs increasing the costs of imported medicines and supplies; The American Hospital Association a 鈥減erfect storm of financial pressures.鈥� 

The rash of institutional closures should be a stark warning about the future of employer-sponsored child care. That term usually conjures the concept of private companies offering on-site centers or subsidies for child care as a workplace perk. But in practice, these institutions function similarly: They operate on-site child care for their community members, such as staff, students or patients 鈥� and in many cases, the programs have been around for decades. In a sense, we might consider institutionally-affiliated child care programs the best-case version of employer-supported care. The institutions are often anchored in public missions, subject to greater accountability and backed by generally reliable funding streams. Yet, even these programs are disappearing.

If institutions designed to serve the public can鈥檛 sustain employer-linked child care, it raises a larger question about how realistic it is to . 

It seems clear that, reluctant as the decision may be, child care quickly finds itself on the chopping block when budgets tighten. Often, it is viewed as a nice-to-have for institutions, even while it鈥檚 a must-have for families. When programs close and families lose subsidized care, they鈥檙e often forced into a wild scramble for a spot among scarce options. With the aforementioned headwinds only projected to worsen, more closures are, unfortunately, likely on the way. 

To be clear, the closures don鈥檛 signal that on-site child care is inherently flawed. In fact, the passionate reaction of families and providers show just how valued these programs are. The question is, how should such programs be funded? A model that relies on institutions themselves bearing the cost seems to be breaking down. Similarly, depending on a single funding stream, like CCAMPIS, is clearly risky, as it keeps programs in a constant state of vulnerability 鈥� just one unfavorable grant cycle away from collapse.

What鈥檚 needed, instead, is a way to wrap institutionally-affiliated child care into a broader publicly-funded system, as is done in nations like and . 

The child care sector may well be entering a phase where Band-Aids like incentivizing employers to offer child care benefits like on-site programs or stipends can no longer hold back the bleeding. If universities and hospital systems 鈥� to say nothing of Fortune 500 companies like and 鈥� are increasingly unable or unwilling to maintain their child care programs despite evidence of their positive impacts, then a course correction is needed. 

Policymakers are rushing to incentivize employer-sponsored child care at a moment when the American economy is slowing down and financial headwinds are picking up. If there鈥檚 any good news, it鈥檚 that about five thousand years ago humans invented a way to pool individual resources and redistribute them for collective benefit. In other words, the antidote to institutional child care closures is the same as the antidote to mom and pop child care closures: tax dollars. 

Traditional high-impact tutoring can cost upward of $2,000 per student a year, and staffing is the single biggest constraint. At the same time, shortages of qualified teachers persist, with districts struggling to recruit and retain the educators students need most.

These two crises, a tutoring access gap and a teacher pipeline shortage, are usually treated as separate problems, but they shouldn鈥檛 be. Among the full landscape of education interventions, high-impact tutoring is one of the most consistently effective, evidence-based strategies for accelerating student learning. The results are replicable, offering up a solution to both crises that is currently hiding in plain sight.

Each year, more than 600,000 aspiring teachers are enrolled in educator-preparation programs across the country. Another 600,000 college students are employed through as well as state programs, such as . We can, and must, activate these people as tutors for the students who need them most. To do that, policymakers should act on two fronts.

First, unlock Federal Work-Study dollars for tutoring. The infrastructure already exists. Work-Study employs 600,000 college students annually in federally subsidized campus jobs. Redirecting even a fraction of these positions toward high-quality tutoring would create one of the largest, most cost-effective tutoring workforces in the country without requiring new appropriations.

This is already happening. Step Up Tutoring engages college students paid through Federal Work-Study or College Corps at 40 colleges and universities across 15 states, making it one of the fastest-growing Work-Study鈥損owered tutoring programs in the country. Step Up delivers one-on-one virtual tutoring and mentorship to over 5,000 underserved students annually in more than 40 districts across four states. Its students are outperforming peers by wide margins; an independent evaluation found that students receiving tutoring with Step Up gained two to four additional months of learning in math compared to a control group.

Critically, this model both expands the tutoring workforce and strengthens the educator pipeline. This year, 73% of Step Up’s college and high school-aged tutors reported that they are somewhat to strongly interested in pursuing a career in education, and 82% said their Step Up experience increased that interest. As one tutor shared: “Step Up confirmed my desire to go into teaching. I wasn’t sure before, but working with my student has been the most fulfilling part of my week.”

Second, require tutoring experience as a core component of teacher preparation. Many aspiring teachers enrolled in prep programs don鈥檛 have an opportunity to regularly practice what they learn until a culminating student teaching experience or a year-long residency near the end of their program. Tutoring can be the lab where theory meets practice earlier in their preparation, allowing candidates to begin working directly with students to practice instructional skills and identify and use high-quality instructional materials in real time.

Deans for Impact’s partnerships with nearly 300 prep programs demonstrate that aspiring teachers grow more skilled, confident and effective when they have structured opportunities to engage in on-the-job learning early and often. Through a pilot designed to prepare aspiring-teacher tutors to identify and effectively use high quality materials, there was an average 20-plus percentage-point growth in instructional skills and knowledge among participants. Findings also showed an average overall increase of over 49% in tutors鈥� feelings of preparedness to teach.

When tutoring is embedded into preparation, and not treated as an add-on, aspiring educators build instructional skills earlier, with support, before stepping into the complexity of full-classroom teaching. Districts gain a steadier, stronger pipeline. And states produce teachers who know how to accelerate learning from day one.

There is another reason to be optimistic about the effectiveness of these novice tutors. Increasingly, AI-powered tools can provide real-time instructional guidance, helping tutors decide what to teach, how to explain concepts and how to respond when students struggle. This is not about replacing the human relationship at the center of effective tutoring; it is about ensuring that every willing tutor, regardless of prior experience, can deliver consistent, high-quality instruction.

If we act on these two priorities 鈥� unlocking Work-Study funding and embedding tutoring in teacher preparation 鈥� we can solve two critical problems at once. Students gain the academic support and human relationships they desperately need. And more young adults can build their confidence and skills in teaching from the start. In the process, they establish a habit of service that will shape the rest of their careers.

Despite the sunset of ESSER funds, the federal government has continued to foster momentum by elevating tutoring as a priority in existing and future grant competitions. In December 2025, the U.S. Department of Education awarded $256 million via the to scale tutoring and improve literacy. Also in December, a growing bipartisan, bicameral coalition of Congressional leaders re-introduced the PATHS to Tutor Act to scale local partnerships working to embed tutoring into teacher training. 

But the next step must be bolder: we need a comprehensive, national strategy that integrates tutoring into the fabric of teacher preparation and channels federal dollars toward improving academic outcomes while simultaneously cultivating the next generation of educators. 

Frederick Douglass鈥� advice is a blueprint for a brighter future for men in America. Unfortunately, fewer and fewer men are volunteering in the lives of young men, and the number of male educators has been dropping consistently over the past 30 years. According to the American Institute for Boys and Men, only 27% of men volunteered in 2023, five points lower than women. At the same time, the share of male teachers has dropped from 30% in 1988 to 23% in 2022. 

According to professor and author Scott Galloway, 鈥淭he single greatest point of failure when a young boy comes off the tracks is when he loses a male role model.鈥� With boys falling behind in schools while struggling with anxiety and depression at home, we are reaping the effects of the lack of male volunteers in our communities and schools. 

April is National Volunteer Month, an opportunity to celebrate the men and women who sacrifice their time to support a worthy cause. And as the world celebrates the 50th Anniversary of National Volunteer Month, we not only recognize the impact volunteers have on others, but we also appreciate the lasting benefit giving one鈥檚 time has on the volunteer. 

Americans increasingly support mandatory national service, with more than two-thirds of Americans backing it for 18-22 year-olds. Surprisingly, that support is even higher among young people ages 18-24, three-quarters of whom back mandatory national service. Parents support requiring their children to serve with such programs as the Big Brothers Big Brothers of America, AmeriCorps, Teacher For America, City Year or the United States Peace Corps. The largest group of parents with children expected to serve (ages 38 to 44) endorse mandatory national service at a rate of 62%. 

Volunteering also benefits the volunteers, especially for men who are reporting to be more lonely and less connected to their communities. The data is clear, volunteering will give men more social connection, positive health outcomes, and better mental health. The irony is that while young boys need male mentors and teachers, programs that offer volunteer opportunities are reporting less and less participation by men. 

In March, I celebrated Peace Corps Week and my time as an education volunteer in South Africa. Peace Corps Week honors how the service opportunity fosters connections and contributes to meaningful change 鈥� in the United States and around the world. Since 1961, over 240,000 American men and women have dedicated over two years of their life to serving in more than 60 developing countries around the world. Today more than 3,000 Peace Corps volunteers are serving: 56% of them are female, while about 44% are male. 

The shortage of men volunteering is not limited to international work; women are outpacing men at home too. Big Brother Big Sisters of America reports that more than 70% of children on their waitlist are boys because of a lack of Big Brothers. Similarly, only 32% of AmeriCorps volunteers, 34% of Teach For America members, and 39% of City Year volunteers are men. 

My time as a Peace Corps volunteer over 25 years ago sparked my career in education. My own experience makes me believe that targeting male volunteers could be the answer to closing the gap of male teachers in America. Nearly 40% of all Peace Corps volunteers are focused on the education sector in their host country, the largest group among all the programs. Men who serve as education volunteers are trained to teach subjects like English as a foreign language , math, science and special education in a foreign country. 

The experience these men gain serving in their host communities is often brought home and applied locally when they return. Nearly two-thirds of volunteers who serve as teachers in the Peace Corps work in the education section in America upon completion of their service. Similarly, more than half of the men and women who complete their City Year service work in education. 

States are already leading. Maryland requires 75 hours of community service for students to qualify for graduation and has just launched a “Young Men and Boys Initiative” to increase mentor recruitment and create pathways for young men. 

Other states have worked to promote volunteering as well, including: 

• California launched a statewide initiative seeking 10,000 men to serve as mentors, tutors and coaches to combat rising suicide rates, social disconnection and declining college attendance among young men.聽
• Washington enacted a National Mentoring Month campaign to address the need for male mentors.
• Virginia created a Boys to Men Mentoring Network with local chapters focusing on young men.
• Arizona partnered with Big Brothers Big Sisters of America to launch a statewide campaign to recruit male mentors.
• Wisconsin organized events to help recruit Black male mentors for young boys.

Nonprofits and male membership organizations have begun taking the lead as well. Big Brothers Big Sisters of America are partnering with greek letter membership organizations like Alpha Phi Alpha, Kappa Alpha Psi and Omega Psi Phi to increase the number of African-American male mentors.

In Georgia, the National Parents Union celebrates their NPU Parent Week of Action by encouraging men to volunteer in local schools. Through NPU and Black Male Educators, fathers and father-figures serve as bus monitors and crossing guards. The program has been a tremendous success leading to volunteers even becoming bus drivers. In other instances, these organizations are connecting fathers with opportunities to volunteer in classrooms reading to students. Introducing fathers into their children鈥檚 schools as volunteers could be the first step to them becoming teachers. 

We can do this, we can connect men with volunteer opportunities that give them meaning and purpose. For men who volunteer and find passion in mentoring young men and boys, opportunities to transition into teaching should be easier and less expensive. We need more male teachers; being laser focused on partnering with volunteer programs could be a silver bullet.

What gets discussed far less often is that this pattern rarely begins in third or fifth grade, when participation gaps become easier to see. It begins in children鈥檚 first classroom experiences, where they learn whether speaking feels safe, whether mistakes are survivable and whether the classroom has room for the way they enter language.

The problem is not simply that some children talk more than others. It is that schools often mistake fast, public participation for understanding and then build opportunity around that mistake. A child who speaks quickly and often is usually read as engaged, confident and capable. A child who hesitates, watches or offers little is more likely to be read as uncertain, underprepared or less able.

Yet speaking in front of others is not a simple measure of understanding. It requires children to process a question, organize language quickly, tolerate public attention and respond while everyone is listening. For multilingual learners, it may also mean searching across languages while monitoring pronunciation and trying not to make a visible mistake.

What can look like 鈥渏ust talking鈥� is often thinking under pressure.

When schools confuse reduced public response with reduced competence, they begin shaping a trajectory. That trajectory is rarely built through cruelty or obvious exclusion. More often, it emerges through small instructional decisions that seem reasonable on the surface. When participation in whole-group discussion decreases, teachers鈥攐ften out of care鈥攎ay call on certain students less, simplify questions or stop asking for elaboration. Meanwhile, other students are invited to explain, justify, extend and defend their thinking.

Each decision appears minor, but over time they accumulate. Opportunities to demonstrate complexity expand for some students and quietly contract for others. This is how underestimation takes root in schools 鈥� not through overt exclusion, but through a subtle redistribution of opportunity.

The problem deepens when educators collapse many different experiences into the single category of 鈥渜uiet.鈥� From the outside, quiet students can look similar, but the reasons beneath the silence are not. Some are fluent and expressive in low-pressure settings but constricted in public ones. Others understand directions in two languages and still shut down the moment speaking becomes public.

In everyday classroom moments 鈥� during snack, in play, or beside one trusted peer 鈥� these same children often become animated and engaged. Expression can expand quickly when pressure is lowered, home language is welcomed, or an adult creates space for response.

In one kindergarten classroom, a child who rarely spoke during group instruction began, almost invisibly, by moving his chair a few inches closer to the circle each day. The teacher noticed and named the shift without demanding more than he was ready to offer. 鈥淵ou came closer today,鈥� she told him, and later, 鈥淚 see you鈥檙e staying with us.鈥�

Within days, he began whispering answers to a partner, and within weeks he was participating in small-group discussion. His language had not suddenly changed. The environment had. That is the point schools too often miss: Participation begins before speech.

In early classrooms, many children participate long before they do so in polished verbal form. They move closer to the group, track the teacher鈥檚 face, point instead of answering, imitate actions, sort materials, whisper to peers or respond through gesture and gaze. These are not lesser forms of participation. They are participation in its earliest form.

Yet schools often reward only the most visible and verbally fluent version of engagement, while everything that comes before it is treated as secondary. For multilingual learners and other cautious children, this creates a profound mismatch: their bodies are already engaged while the classroom waits for a kind of public speech they are not yet ready to produce.

If schools want to turn this around, they do not need an expensive new program. They need to stop treating the fastest and most exposed form of response as the clearest proof of understanding.

That shift begins with classroom routines. Before asking for a public answer, teachers can build in real 鈥渢hink time鈥� 鈥�10 or 15 seconds that give students a chance to process before the quickest voices take over. They can let students rehearse with a partner before whole-group discussion, so the first public response is not also the first act of language formation.

They can ask students to point to evidence, sketch an idea, jot a sentence or sort materials before speaking aloud. They can return to a child after another voice has entered the conversation, instead of treating one missed moment as closure. And they can widen what counts as participation so that gesture, writing, peer explanation, and home-language processing are recognized as evidence of thought.

Teachers can also lower the social risk built into participation by slowing the pace when questions become more demanding, avoiding rapid-fire questioning that rewards only the quickest responders, and making hesitation less punishing. 鈥淭ake a second and think鈥� invites participation differently than 鈥淐ome on, you know this.鈥� 鈥淪how me first鈥� opens a door that 鈥淯se your words鈥� can close.

Just as important, teachers can look for patterns instead of drawing conclusions from isolated moments. A student who is silent in whole-group discussion but expressive in play, writing, small groups or in another language is not showing an absence of understanding. That variability is information: It shows that expression is conditional, not fixed, and that classroom conditions shape what becomes visible.

These moves do not lower rigor 鈥� they make it more accurate. Rigor is not how fast a child can speak in front of others. It is whether a classroom can recognize thought before it arrives in its most polished, public form.

When silence is misinterpreted early, the consequences extend far beyond one discussion. Expectations drift downward. Opportunities narrow. Referrals increase. Children acquire identities they did not choose: hesitant, low, disengaged, behind. What begins as a participation gap becomes an opportunity gap, and over time the system names what it helped create.

The student who lowers her hand is not always unsure, unmotivated or disengaged. She may be calculating whether the room is safe enough for the way she speaks, whether there is time to find language without being rushed, and whether what she is about to say will be met with patience or correction. If schools want more students to participate, they should stop treating voice as something children either have or do not.

Participation is not a trait 鈥� it is a condition. Quiet students do not need louder prompts. They need safer entry points. If schools understood that earlier, they might stop asking why some students do not raise their hands and start asking the more important question: What have we taught them participation will cost?

Once a month at Impact Puget Sound Elementary, I break it on purpose.

We call it Hallway Holler. About once a month, teachers nominate scholars who have embodied our school’s Core Values and Commitments in meaningful ways. Those students get to sprint down the hallway 鈥� full speed, arms pumping, sneakers squeaking 鈥� while their classmates line the walls, arms outstretched to form a tunnel, cheering as loud as they possibly can. Teachers run right alongside their kids. The noise is glorious. The joy is real.

I know how that sounds. But I’d argue it’s one of the most direct things I do to address one of American education’s most stubborn problems: getting kids to show up.

Hallway Holler started at our Tukwila campus, in a single ground-floor hallway, almost as a small experiment. The idea was simple: Take something we care deeply about 鈥� our core values 鈥� and make the recognition of it feel like the biggest deal in the building. It worked so well, so fast, that we expanded it to all four of our schools and moved it to monthly. Now it’s a founding pillar of who we are as a charter school network.

What I didn’t fully anticipate was what it would mean to the kids. One first grader told me: “My favorite part is that we get to run. When I am chosen to run, and people are cheering for me, it makes me feel proud of myself.” A fourth grader put it even more plainly: “I always want to be at school to see if I am running again. I want to work even harder.”

When we surveyed families about what they wanted as we expanded to middle school, Hallway Holler came up unprompted. Not from parents. From kids. Students told their families about it. That feedback loop 鈥� from a child’s excitement to a family’s sense of belonging 鈥� is not something I could have manufactured with a policy memo.

I want to be honest about what Hallway Holler is not. It is not a reward for perfect behavior or a prize for the most popular kids in class. Teachers nominate scholars who have embodied our values in meaningful ways: spreading kindness in the classroom, in common spaces, at recess and beyond. Recognition rotates, so that every child gets seen across the year for something real. 

 I think about one of our fourth graders who, just a year ago, struggled to find his footing. Third grade had been difficult: academically, socially and in how he experienced school. This year, he set a goal: to show up each day as his best self. He knew Hallway Holler wasn鈥檛 about perfection, but about growth. 

Over time, through small consistent choices like choosing kindness in the classroom, supporting peers at recess, and taking responsibility when things went wrong, he grew! He even stepped up as a buddy to a younger class. When his name was finally called for Hallway Holler, it wasn鈥檛 for being the loudest or the most polished. It was for that steady, daily effort.

Since then, he has grown more than 15 points in both reading and math, a reflection of what can happen when a student feels seen, valued and motivated to keep showing up.

The kids who aren’t running this month are forming the tunnel, dancing and cheering and sending love as their peers sprint past. They are part of it too. And they know their moment is coming.

That deliberateness matters. This isn’t about performance or perfection. It’s about the ongoing, daily work of noticing kids 鈥� and then making that noticing feel like the biggest deal in the building.

The joy work and the academic work are not in competition. They are the same work,and the field doesn’t talk about that enough.

Chronic absenteeism is one of the most stubborn problems in American public education, and the conversation around it tends to focus almost entirely on removing obstacles 鈥� calling families, connecting them to resources, offering transportation. All of that matters and we do all of that. But that framing treats attendance as a problem to be solved rather than a behavior to be motivated. What gets talked about far less is the other side of the equation: making school a place kids are genuinely, viscerally excited to return to. 

And when kids are in school, they’re learning. At Impact Puget Sound Elementary, 65.3% of our students meet grade-level standards in ELA and 65.8% in math 鈥� outpacing our local district, Tukwila School District, by 13.9 percentage points in ELA and 25.8 points in math. I don’t think that’s a coincidence. 

A child cannot learn on a day they are not here 鈥� and a child who wants to be here shows up. At Impact Puget Sound, we have over 90% average daily attendance which places us on pace with and slightly above the national average for all students. Nationally, schools where 75% or more of students qualify for Free and Reduced Lunch average attendance rates of 80% to 85%. At Impact Puget Sound, where 79% of our students qualify, we’re at 90.8% 鈥� a gap our team and families have earned.

But it requires knowing your community well enough to find the specific version of joy that lands for your specific kids. For us, it turned out to be something as elemental as permission to run in the hallways while your whole school cheers your name.

Some of my students don’t fully understand the data behind attendance yet. They don’t know what chronic absenteeism costs them in the long run. But they know the feeling of rounding a corner at full speed. They know their teacher is running beside them. They know that this 鈥� this specific, loud, joyful moment 鈥� only happens because they showed up and lived our values.

That’s enough. For now, that’s everything.

Pacheco is one of approximately 15,000 residents in what is known as America鈥檚 first solar-powered town, defined by its environmental vision, hurricane and strong sense of community. Since welcoming its first residents in January 2018, Babcock Ranch鈥檚 population has soared, with plans to reach 50,000 in the years ahead.

As this future-focused community grows, its K-12 education landscape is expanding alongside it, shaped by the same spirit of innovation. With a rising assortment of public schooling, homeschooling and micro-schooling options, Babcock Ranch offers a distinct snapshot of today鈥檚 evolving education offerings and the families who choose them.

鈥淚t鈥檚 kind of like choose your own education adventure,鈥� said Laura Felker, who moved to Babcock Ranch from Colorado last spring. She enrolled her son in kindergarten at the Babcock Neighborhood School, a public charter school that opened in 2017, just a few months ahead of the community鈥檚 first residents. Babcock High School, also a public charter school, launched in 2022.

Felker was attracted to the school鈥檚 commitment to project-based learning, which is embedded into the curriculum. Her son has excelled at Babcock Neighborhood School, but when she heard about a new school opening in Babcock Ranch this fall, she was intrigued. Her son is academically advanced and in need of a more challenging learning environment, while also thriving with project-based learning. 鈥淚 wanted some kind of meet-in-the-middle microschool,鈥� said Felker, explaining that she was looking for a school that would blend the flexibility of homeschooling with the structure of traditional schooling, while prioritizing hands-on, project-based learning.

鈥淧rimer is able to do that,鈥� said Felker, referring to the venture-backed K-8 private school network that is opening a Babcock Ranch location this fall. Founded in 2019 by Ryan Delk, expects to have 19 teacher-led campuses across Alabama, Arizona, Florida and Texas in the upcoming school year 鈥� including Babcock Ranch. The company did not disclose its network-wide enrollment numbers or current registration figures for Babcock Ranch, but Felker says that many of her neighbors are excited about this new model.

鈥淗ands-on learning is going to become incrementally more and more important,鈥� said Felker, who leads data and AI strategy for a Silicon Valley-based company. She sees first-hand how emerging technologies are impacting the workplace and shaping the jobs of the future, and she wants a schooling environment for her son, and his two younger siblings, that mixes core academics with ample time for creative, community-based projects. 鈥淚 want that to be part of his schooling, so when Primer came, I think I was one of the first people to reach out because this is the exact thing that I’m looking for,鈥� she said.

Emerging schooling models like Primer are taking root in communities across the country, as families look for more personalized education options. In states such as Florida, expanding school choice policies make these models financially accessible to more families. Felker expects most of Primer鈥檚 tuition to be covered by the state鈥檚 education savings account programs.

While some parents like Felker use ESA funding toward private school tuition, today鈥檚 programs often enable much greater customization of learning. In Florida, for example, families are eligible for funding through the state鈥檚 Personalized Education Program, an ESA enabling them to tailor their children鈥檚 education in myriad ways, including covering homeschooling expenses, tutoring services, curriculum resources, online learning and part-time school fees.

This flexible funding, averaging about $8,000 per student per year, is what Pacheco uses to educate her 13-year-old daughter, Bella. When the family moved to Babcock Ranch in the summer of 2024 following that enchanting Friday night visit, Pacheco began homeschooling Bella, who had previously attended a public elementary school from kindergarten through fifth grade. 

Pacheco liked the school, but she wanted something more for Bella as she entered her middle school years. 鈥淚 always felt like the public school wasn’t the best fit,鈥� said Pacheco, a nurse practitioner who helped to co-found a family medicine practice with three Florida locations, including a new one opening soon in Babcock Ranch. 鈥淚t’s like a one size fits all, but that’s not how people are,鈥� said Pacheco, who was particularly concerned about the frequent focus on standardized testing in the public schools and the anxiety it created for her daughter.  

When she moved into Babcock Ranch, Pacheco discovered a large and vibrant homeschooling community. 鈥淭here are so many homeschooling groups,鈥� she said, often gathering for park meet-ups, enrichment activities and field trips to the aquarium and similar spots. Parents also take turns hosting lessons at their homes, which supplements the online curriculum that Bella uses for her core academics. 鈥淚t鈥檚 like a little homeschool village here. I love it,鈥� said Pacheco, adding that Bella is much happier than she was in a conventional classroom.

Babcock Ranch was designed to be a modern-day village, where community life is intentionally built. That same intentionality is shaping how Babcock Ranch families choose to educate their children. From project-based charter schools to homeschooling to emerging models like Primer, families have a growing array of learning options to consider.  

In Babcock Ranch, this variety isn鈥檛 only reserved for K-12 education. options are sprouting, and the community recently a partnership with Florida Gulf Coast University to create a new sustainability-focused campus center at Babcock Ranch.

鈥淭here is a lot of educational opportunity here, and it just keeps evolving for every layer of education,鈥� said Felker. 鈥淚t’s cool to see that type of vibrancy.鈥�

This feeling of frustration is one that leaders at New York’s know well. Situated between Rochester and Syracuse, this rural district of 750 students is often seen as a stepping stone by educators. Many new teachers get a few years under their belt, then take off for higher-paying suburban schools. 

Even before the pandemic hit, Clyde-Savannah experienced a districtwide employee turnover rate of 25%. This churn, particularly among teachers and support staff, disrupted the continuity and quality of students鈥� learning. At the elementary level alone, six to seven teachers out of 21 would leave in any given year.

Experienced educators carry institutional knowledge about curriculum implementation, assessment practices, and effective strategies for meeting student needs. When a large portion of staff leaves each year, districts must repeatedly rebuild this expertise. While new teachers often bring enthusiasm and fresh ideas, their learning curve can affect the consistency of instruction and student outcomes, at least temporarily.

As superintendent for Clyde-Savannah, I knew the district could not compete on salary. Instead, school leaders and board members focused on what we were able to control: the district culture. Could we build a better workplace, where people felt genuinely supported? Could we reduce teachers’ stress, both inside and outside the classroom? Most importantly, could we create an environment where educators were excited to come to school each day?

By reimagining its approach to recruitment, the district increased its overall employee retention rate to 98% from 2023 to 2025 and made Clyde-Savannah a top choice for prospective teachers. Finalists who were speaking with neighboring districts or had received offers told our interviewers they had withdrawn those applications in order to accept positions at Clyde-Savannah. In addition, I have seen first-year teachers choose to relocate to the Clyde-Savannah community, which is key, as early-career educators typically move only when they view a district as a place to build both a career and a lasting home.

The district’s approach to changing its culture took several forms. First, through conversations with staff and teachers, district leaders discovered that a lack of accessible and affordable child care was often the biggest deterrent to employment. Many talented educators were leaving the classroom because the high cost of child care made working full time financially impractical.

To ease the burden on working families, the district opened a for all employees in 2023. Rather than contract services to outside caregivers, Clyde-Savannah became the first school system approved by the New York Office of Family and Child Services to operate a district-run child care center. Today, 18 children between the ages of 6 weeks and 4 years attend the program each day, providing families with much-needed support while ensuring their little ones will be ready for kindergarten.

For many employees, but especially support staff and teacher鈥檚 aides earning minimum wage, the program has been life-changing. For one, being relieved of the cost of child care means she was able to purchase a car for her family. Another teacher chose Clyde-Savannah because the availability of care made it possible for him and his wife to both pursue the careers they wanted.

For Clyde-Savannah teachers and staff, the cost savings and peace of mind of knowing their children are well cared for outweigh the lure of a modest salary bump a district away.

The second initiative involved filling a longstanding gap in what had been a coffee shop desert. As a small town, Clyde lacked a spot for teachers, staff and students to grab their daily caffeine fix. So the district turned a high school classroom into a caf茅 that rivals popular coffee chains. 

The coffee shop is staffed by trained student volunteers who earn community service hours toward graduation. In the process, these young baristas gain hands-on experience in food preparation, customer service and promotion, equipping them with marketable skills.

Students prepare drinks using standard coffee shop equipment, such as brewers, syrups and espresso-style machines. The cafe serves walk-in customers, makes deliveries to all district buildings during designated times of the day and stays open after school hours to accommodate staff, visitors, teachers and community members attending meetings or activities after 3 p.m.

Because many school bus drivers are on the road during the shop’s regular hours, the district created a drive-through option just for them. Drivers can pull up their bus outside the school doors, and students will bring out their coffee order 鈥� a small but meaningful way to include transportation staff.

When the caf茅 first launched, the district lacked the budget for paid staff. So, I stepped in as store manager, working at 6 in the morning to help get everything prepped for the day ahead. Eventually, because of the caf茅鈥檚 popularity, it earned enough money to pay for a full-time manager to run the shop. 

By creatively addressing a community need, Clyde-Savannah demonstrated that the district is actively listening and responding to its staff. Teachers value having a place in which to connect, collaborate and recharge. At the same time, prospective hires see this investment in staff well-being as an advantage when comparing offers from other districts. As competition intensifies for a shrinking applicant pool of qualified teachers, small districts must think creatively to set themselves apart. Higher salaries are important, but compensation does not always guarantee fulfillment. For many educators, job satisfaction comes from feeling happy, supported and genuinely appreciated 鈥� benefits that cannot be measured in dollars alone.

Every few years, education seems to discover something new that will finally fix schools 鈥� a new framework, a new approach, a new way of thinking about teaching and learning. It arrives with urgency and conviction, spreads quickly, reshapes professional development and classroom practice and then fades away, either replaced by the shiny new thing or layered on top of it. Twenty-first century skills, trauma-informed pedagogy, flipped classrooms, 1:1 devices 鈥� all promised to succeed where the last one fell short.

Ask veteran teachers to list the major instructional initiatives they鈥檝e been trained on over the past decade, and you鈥檙e likely to get a weary laugh before you get an answer. Discipline systems cycle from zero tolerance to restorative practices; 鈥渄ata-driven instruction鈥� yields to 鈥減ersonalized learning,鈥� which is now being rebranded yet again in the age of artificial intelligence. Each shift arrives with urgency and moral clarity. Each requires retraining, new materials and a reorientation of practice. Spend enough time in schools, and the pattern becomes impossible to ignore. Which raises an uncomfortable question:

Why is education so damn fad-prone?

The easy answer is also the most insulting 鈥� that educators are uniquely susceptible to trends, quick to abandon what works and too eager to embrace whatever comes next. But that answer is wrong. Classroom teachers are typically the least enthusiastic participants in these cycles, having learned through experience how quickly today鈥檚 鈥渢ransformational鈥� idea becomes tomorrow鈥檚 abandoned initiative.

Education isn鈥檛 fad-driven because the people in it lack judgment. It鈥檚 fad-driven because the system they work in makes churn not just common, but rational. Four structural forces, in particular, push schools toward constant reinvention:

Weak feedback loops. In most sectors, failure reveals itself quickly. Customers leave, revenue falls and performance problems become unmistakable. In education, by contrast, the signal is slow and noisy. Instructional changes may take years to show results. Student cohorts turn over annually. Outcomes depend on factors well beyond the classroom, such as attendance, family circumstances and peer effects. Even when results improve or decline, attribution is murky. There are too many moving parts to say with reasonable certainty that any single input was determinative. Under these conditions, it鈥檚 impossible to offer decisive proof that a given approach is or isn鈥檛 working. This makes education unusually vulnerable not just to bad ideas, but to the premature abandonment of good ones.

Leadership legitimacy requires visible change. School systems churn through leaders with striking regularity. The onus is on each new superintendent, principal and state chief to demonstrate that he or she is, in fact, leading. Many will come to the unfortunate conclusion that leadership is signaled not through stewardship, but through action: launching initiatives, unveiling strategic plans, introducing new frameworks, reorganizing priorities. Anyone who has spent time around school systems has seen the pattern: A new leader arrives, announces a bold vision, rebrands existing efforts and introduces a new set of priorities. Three years later, often before results are fully visible, that leader departs (school superintendents tend to a single contract cycle) and the wheel turns another revolution. A leader who says, 鈥淲e鈥檙e going to keep doing what we鈥檙e doing, but do it better,鈥� risks appearing passive or directionless, even if the system is performing well. It is a structural expectation. In education, visible change is how leadership signals its worth.

Low barriers to new ideas. In fields like medicine or engineering, new approaches must pass through layers of validation before they reach widespread adoption. Education has far fewer guardrails. A new framework can be published, marketed and adopted by districts in rapid succession. Professional development cycles spread new ideas quickly, consultants package innovations into turnkey programs and procurement systems often treat instructional approaches as interchangeable. The result is a highly permeable system 鈥� one in which ideas can enter and scale rapidly, often long before their effectiveness is firmly established.

Moral urgency. Education is not a typical service sector. It concerns children鈥檚 lives and futures, and that reality creates a constant sense of moral urgency. If a proposal claims it might help struggling students succeed 鈥� especially disadvantaged children 鈥� the pressure to act is immense. Waiting for perfect evidence can feel ethically unacceptable; trying something new, even with incomplete proof, feels compassionate. This isn鈥檛 foolish or irresponsible. It鈥檚 what happens when moral responsibility collides with uncertainty. But it creates a powerful bias toward action 鈥� and, by extension, toward constant change.

Taken together, these forces produce a system in which reform cycles are not accidental but predictable. Slow, ambiguous evidence makes it hard to know what is working. Leadership incentives reward visible change. New ideas face little resistance to adoption. Moral urgency pushes systems to act rather than wait. Under those conditions, stability is not the natural condition. Change is. Indeed, stability can easily be mistaken 鈥� and often is 鈥� for complacency or indifference.

The problem is not that education experiments with new ideas. Some experimentation is necessary and healthy. The problem is that the system struggles to sustain success once it finds it. Schools that improve often do so through unglamorous means: adopting a coherent curriculum, building teacher expertise, reinforcing consistent instructional routines and maintaining focus over time. None of this is flashy. None of it lends itself to prizes or glowing media profiles. And all of it is fragile.

Recent reforms in offer a useful contrast. Rather than chasing novelty, the district has focused on something far less glamorous: tightly specified lessons, routine checks for understanding and instructional systems designed for the teachers schools actually have 鈥� not the ones reformers wish they had. Whatever one thinks of the model (and its critics are many and voluble), its premise goes against the grain of the broader system.

Elsewhere, I鈥檝e that the real miracle in education is not that some schools succeed. It鈥檚 that any manage to keep succeeding. The four factors enumerated above help explain why.

The solution for breaking the cycle is not to scold educators for chasing new ideas. It is to realign incentives so stability and execution are valued as forms of leadership. That means treating implementation fidelity as an achievement, not an afterthought, and creating political and institutional cover for leaders who choose continuity over novelty. It means building systems that measure and reward long-term improvement, not short-term activity, and elevating professional norms that prize mastery over constant reinvention.

In short, we need to make competence visible. Because until we do, the system will continue to reward the appearance of change over the reality of improvement. So, yes, education is fad-prone, just not for the reasons we usually assume. We don鈥檛 chase reform because we forget what works, but because the system makes standing still look irresponsible 鈥� even when standing still is exactly what success requires.

Student demographics are shifting so that in just six years, districts have lost nearly 2 million students nationwide. Meanwhile, charter schools gained about half a million, private schools added thousands more, and homeschooling rates remain higher than pre-pandemic levels. These shifts look different depending on where you live, but almost no district is immune. The result: Traditional district schools are serving a shrinking share of a shrinking market. 

In many states, options that used to be considered fringe alternatives are now much more accessible. Policy shifts favor charter schools and open enrollment across district lines; and education savings accounts and tax credit scholarships incentivize alternative school options. 

This means the traditional assumption that most students in a district鈥檚 boundaries will attend its schools no longer holds. It also means districts need to rethink how they can continue to successfully serve their students and communities. And it means that it is more important than ever to think about how districts and states serve students with disabilities so they don鈥檛 fall through the cracks. 

Enrollment declines create immediate pressure. Districts still have to maintain buildings, transportation systems and central office functions even as student numbers fall. Political realities often make it difficult to close under-enrolled schools. And districts must continue to meet legal obligations, especially for students with disabilities.

Over time, this leads to hard tradeoffs. Resources shift away from classrooms just to keep systems running. Meanwhile, are often the first to leave. That can concentrate marginalized students and students with disabilities in the schools with the fewest resources and the least capacity to adapt. Staffing becomes harder. Financial strain grows. Academic outcomes can suffer.

Left unchecked, this becomes a downward spiral that, in some places, ends in state intervention or financial insolvency. States will increasingly face a choice: develop a new playbook for districts or manage the consequences of decline. 

Two paths districts must pursue at the same time

For decades, districts operated as vertically integrated systems: They ran the schools, delivered the services and served nearly every student in their area.

That model no longer reflects reality. Today鈥檚 districts face two distinct but connected challenges:

First, they must compete for students by offering schools and programs that families will actively choose. That means understanding what families want and building options that respond to those preferences.

Second, they must support a broader ecosystem of public education,finding ways to serve students, families and schools beyond those they directly operate. 

Districts that succeed will do both.

Competing today isn鈥檛 about marketing existing schools more effectively. It鈥檚 about rethinking what schools look like.

Some districts are already moving in this direction. Orange County, Florida, is facing enrollment declines for the first time in decades. To meet new demands, they鈥檙e exploring screen-free microschools and other specialized programs. Elsewhere, districts have launched classical education schools modeled on approaches gaining traction in the private sector. In Houston, a district-run virtual academy now serves more than 11,000 students, helping offset losses elsewhere.

The most effective efforts share a common thread: They start with understanding what families want and build new models from the ground up.

Other cities like Denver, New York City, Indianapolis and New Orleans have expanded school options while maintaining common enrollment processes, accountability frameworks and access to services like transportation and special education.

States can accelerate this work by removing barriers. Creating more flexibility around staffing, seat-time requirements and program rules can make it easier for districts to launch microschools, hybrid programs and career pathways that reflect how families want their students to learn.

At the same time, districts can no longer afford to disengage from families who choose other options.

In many places, families are piecing together education across multiple providers: a few district classes, an online program, tutoring or homeschooling. In Florida, more than half of districts now offer classes or services to students using scholarships or education savings accounts, often on a fee-for-service basis. This keeps districts connected to students and creates new revenue streams.

But doing this well requires clearer rules. Questions about pricing, accountability and safety are often unresolved. States can help by setting expectations for part-time enrollment and unbundled services, making it easier for districts to participate while protecting students.

There鈥檚 also an opportunity to simplify choice. Many families just want an education that works; they don鈥檛 want to have to navigate a complex marketplace of options.

Even as student enrollment declines, districts will continue to control significant assets: buildings, buses, food services and specialized expertise,especially in areas like special education. 

Those assets don鈥檛 have to sit underutilized. Districts that partner with charter schools offer a template for how to use these assets in new and novel ways. In places like Miami, Indianapolis, Camden and San Antonio, charter schools have been able to lease space, opt into transportation or food service or purchase maintenance and security services. This lowers barriers for new providers, improves use of taxpayer-funded infrastructure and creates revenue streams for districts. 

Districts can also play a larger role in delivering specialized services, particularly special education. Smaller schools often lack the capacity to provide comprehensive support for students with disabilities. With the right funding and flexibility, districts can offer these services across multiple schools and providers. 

States set the conditions for success

Districts didn鈥檛 become rigid by accident. State policies that impact funding formulas, staffing rules, accountability systems have shaped the current model. Now those policies need to evolve.

States can help districts adapt by:

• Funding students, not systems, while maintaining strong accountability
  
• Removing barriers that limit innovation and flexibility, such as seat time requirements or teacher certification rules
  
• Clarifying rules for part-time enrollment and shared services
  
• Ensuring districts are compensated for serving non-enrolled students
  
• Modernizing facilities policies to support shared use
  
• Stepping in when districts cannot or will not adapt

The era of school districts as monopolies is over. But their core mission remains: ensuring every student has access to a high-quality education.

The question is not whether districts will change. It鈥檚 whether they will change fast enough, in ways that strengthen, rather than weaken, public education.

Districts that embrace both being a competitor and a connector have a path forward. With the right support from states, they can remain central, trusted institutions in a more dynamic and diverse education landscape. 

Disclosure: Travis Pillow wrote this commentary while working as the director of thought leadership and growth at Step Up For Students. He has since taken on a new role as a spokesperson for the Texas Education Freedom Accounts program at the Texas Comptroller鈥檚 Office.

Instead of being asked to score at least a on tests of English Language Arts, mathematics, social studies, science and one optional exam, New York students will be assessed using standards. 

It is yet unclear as to who will be evaluating whether they can be considered:

• academically prepared
• creative innovators
• critical thinkers
• effective communicators
• global citizens
• reflective and future-focused

It is also unclear what the criteria for succeeding in each category will be.

When I asked parent subscribers to my mailing list how they felt about the shift, the answers split starkly into two camps.

There were those who cheered. Josh Kross, father of two high schoolers and one graduate, wrote, 鈥淩egents are outdated. Good riddance.鈥� Moria Herbst added, 鈥淥ther states don’t have them. Certainly not in Massachusetts, where I grew up. And Massachusetts does just fine!鈥�

鈥淚 am deeply in favor of moving away from a standardized testing model,鈥� said E.J., the Washington Heights parent of a first grader. 鈥淲hile Portrait of a Graduate is still being worked on as to how it will actually function, I’m encouraged by the idea and the possibility of it being a more complete picture of the human we’re sending out into the world.鈥�

Other parents, however, were less enthused.

鈥�Portrait of a Graduate is so fuzzy as to be meaningless,” wrote Rachel Fremmer, dismissively. “I didn鈥檛 think standards could be lowered any further, but they have been.鈥� 

鈥淚t seems like a process that will make things more subjective for teachers, and thus less fair for many students,鈥� opined Marina. 鈥淭his seems like a vague requirement that will allow parents with resources even more leverage.鈥�

Yiatin Chu, mom of a ninth grader, went even further, saying, 鈥淔or those who criticize the Regents as a low bar/waste of time, why aren’t we improving it and making it more rigorous instead? Portrait of a Graduate is aspirational 鈥� over 40% of eighth grade students are entering high school not reading at grade level. I see the change to these graduation metrics for HS graduation as a way for the system to push kids out the door.鈥�

New York City already faces the issues of straight A students being unable to perform equally well 鈥� or even pass 鈥� state elementary and middle school tests, not to mention high school Regents exams.

鈥淲ithout objective tests, there is no way to gauge what kids are actually learning,鈥� Diane Rubenstein predicted. 鈥淭his will allow the (Department of Education) to give kids nothing in the classroom. This will give (them) cover to not teach.鈥�

鈥淩emoving this requirement dilutes education standards even further,鈥� agreed AW. 鈥淚t plays very well into the current administration鈥檚 program of ‘equity,’ aka ‘mediocrity for all.’ It disincentivizes kids from learning and teaches them that if something is hard, just protest and it will be removed from your path, even to your detriment.鈥�

For many parents, the perceived lowering of standards will hurt city students when it comes to competing not just nationally, but internationally.

鈥淚f USA high schools become less competitive, that鈥檚 not good for the next generation,鈥� Jenny worried, while Ella added, 鈥淥ur kids will fall behind other countries. We are already falling behind in the world. My kids cannot compete with foreign students.鈥�

Of the that currently have high-school exit exams in place, New Jersey ranked No. 2 in the country for educational achievement for 2025, Virginia was No. 13, Ohio was No. 15, Florida was No. 19, Texas No. 31 and Louisiana No. 35. (Massachusetts, which got rid of its exit exams in 2025, is, as noted above, ranked No. 1. However, that ranking was achieved while the state still had its exit exam up through last year.)

In New York, while students will no longer be required to sit for Regents exams in order to graduate, they will still have the option of taking them in order to earn a .

This could have the effect of widening the gaps between students, rather than improving equity. Colleges and employers will be able to see who earned a Regents diploma and who opted to bypass established standards via a more subjective metric, which could imply less academic rigor.

Like those rejected from colleges that went SAT/ACT scores because they realized those were a reliable predictor of applicants鈥� capabilities, students who choose not to take the Regents exams could find themselves negatively perceived and penalized.

鈥淚 understand the growing pressure to move away from standardized testing, but we still need a meaningful way to measure student progress and evaluate our schools,鈥� ventured Stephanie Cuba, the mother of children in seventh and ninth grades. 鈥淓ducation policy should be deliberate and comprehensive, not a series of reactive decisions. If you鈥檙e going to dismantle the old system, you need a clear, credible plan to replace it. Without that, we鈥檙e operating without a compass.鈥�

Right now, with Profile of a Graduate details vague and , New York risks graduating multiple cohorts whose achievements will not be properly valued. The repercussions might follow them for years.

Within weeks of ChatGPT鈥檚 release, hard rules appeared almost overnight. AI tools were banned throughout departments. Teachers watched what seemed like an existential threat materialize in real time, and they responded the way institutions usually do under pressure: They drew a line and told everyone not to cross it.

Three years later, that line is still there. And at many places, nobody ever asked whether it should be, at least not the people most affected by it.

When I looked into how my Austin, Texas, high school鈥檚 AI policy was developed, I found that my administrators made the decision internally. There was no student committee, no open forum, no campuswide survey. The rulebook was simply handed down. In K鈥�12 education, require districts to develop and publish AI policies; when they are published, they鈥檙e often developed without proper consideration of all stakeholders, including students themselves.

It鈥檚 reasonable to counter that students are minors, that institutions need coherent governance and that not all decisions can go to a committee. But AI policy isn鈥檛 a routine curriculum adjustment. It governs what tools students are allowed to use to think, draft, research and communicate 鈥� tools that increasingly shape how knowledge is produced and evaluated outside school. Getting those rules wrong produces consequences for students.

Brittany Carr鈥檚 situation is a well-known example. In early 2023, the had three assignments flagged by an AI detector. She provided her revision history and explained her process writing deeply personal essays about her cancer diagnosis, her depression and her personal recovery. It wasn鈥檛 enough. Fearing that a second accusation could cost her financial aid, she began running every essay through an AI detector herself, rewriting any sentence it marked until her writing voice felt flattened and unfamiliar. By the end of the semester, she left the university.

Carr is not alone. The same NBC News investigation found that students across the country deliberately simplified their vocabulary and avoided complex sentence patterns 鈥� not to write better, but to write less like themselves. Creative writing assignments exist to help students find their voice, which they can鈥檛 do in fear of an algorithm. Carr鈥檚 case shows a student reshaping her writing, and ultimately her education, around a software system she had no role in approving, in a policy she had no voice in developing.

Student involvement would not necessarily have guaranteed a different outcome in Carr鈥檚 case. But it might have changed the structure that enabled it. Students could have brought up concerns about relying on automated detectors without corroborating evidence. They could have described how fear of false accusations pushes students toward simpler vocabulary, safer syntax and less intellectual risk. They could have asked what procedural protections exist before a software flag becomes an academic charge.

Instead, at many institutions, enforcement architecture was built first. Conversation came later, if at all.

It doesn鈥檛 have to work this way. In Los Altos, California, did more than sit in on policy meetings 鈥� they designed and ran community workshops, facilitated discussions between sixth graders and administrators, and built an AI chatbot to help other districts draft policies. 

A found that students overwhelmingly want to be part of decisions about how AI is used in their education 鈥� and that many already hold sophisticated views on its risks and potential. The fact that Los Altos made national news tells you how rarely that invitation is extended.

But there is a deeper reason students belong in these conversations: We know something policymakers don鈥檛.

At my high school, I鈥檝e witnessed 鈥� and experienced 鈥� a secret loop in the learning process: we use  large language model tools like ChatGPT and Claude to genuinely improve learning by unraveling concepts, studying for tests and brainstorming ideas. 

A few days ago, a student asked a question about a formula in my AP Physics C class 鈥� and nobody knew the answer. Another student opened his laptop and asked Claude, and after a few minutes of back-and-forth, we had completely straightened out our question, improving everyone鈥檚 understanding of how circuits worked. I used an LLM to compile notes from my Multivariable Calculus class, which helped me study and earn a near-perfect score on my test. My friend used ChatGPT to learn Java syntax for a project 鈥� not to write code, but to understand the language.

A found that 54% of U.S. teens now use AI chatbots for schoolwork, with the most common uses being research and brainstorming 鈥� not copying and pasting answers. But that message hasn鈥檛 reached the people writing the rules. This secret loop goes completely disregarded by schools, simply because it鈥檚 easier to blanket-ban the technology altogether. The generation that grew up with these tools understands their texture in a way no outside committee can replicate.

These AI policies directly affect students鈥� outcomes and futures. To exclude them from the conversation is simply undemocratic.

If educational institutions are serious about preparing students for democratic citizenship, that commitment must go beyond coursework and into policy-making. The time to invite students into these critical conversations is now. Will schools treat students as subjects of policy, or as participants in it?

Experts have raised a variety of factors contributing to this reality: learning loss due to the pandemic, increased screen time, the dissolution of long-form reading and teacher burnout. While each of these points are critical, there鈥檚 an even deeper, more fundamental issue facing students that a flurry of educational reforms haven鈥檛 fixed and may have worsened:

They are simply not spending enough time actually reading in school.

Practice makes perfect, but without the reps, there鈥檚 no room for growth. Research kids should have at least 15 to 30 minutes of uninterrupted reading time a day. The reality? Much worse. On average, middle school and high school kids are getting about, if that.

This poses an even greater challenge for students in poverty. Kids who have little to no reading opportunities at home depend on school to fill the gaps. When reading minutes are reduced, they’re hit the hardest.

So how do educators fix it?

It turns out, they already have the answers. Here鈥檚 what the research tells us.

First, schools must protect uninterrupted reading time 鈥� and make it non-negotiable.

Right now in school, kids are bombarded with interruptions: digital devices, announcements, visual distractions, visitors. In fact, a recent of the Providence Public School District revealed that classrooms are interrupted more than 2,000 times a year, resulting in the loss of between 10 and 20 days of instructional time. What鈥檚 more, administrators often underestimate or misperceive how these interruptions might be disrupting the learning process.

Students need to be given the space to focus. If educators want to make changes, they need to get intentional about providing stronger opportunities for kids to focus in school: rethink the physical environment to reduce visual noise, streamline communications for students and build in time for cognitive processing.

That means giving students the time and space to get their reading reps in.

Second, teachers must make the time kids are spending in school worthwhile.

Giving kids the time and space they need to read, requires that they know how to do it. And there needs to be accountability and checks that tell us the practice is worthwhile. That鈥檚 where a strong curriculum comes in.

Educators need to be asking ourselves whether the work we鈥檙e asking students to do is worthy of their time and intelligence. If our kids are spending 15,000 hours in school across K-12, it鈥檚 on us to ensure they鈥檙e getting out what they鈥檙e putting in. It starts with providing high-quality instructional materials that are comprehensive, coherent, evidence-based, knowledge-rich, and grade-appropriate.

shows students learning under a coherent curriculum gain an average of 1.3 months of additional learning 鈥� 1.8 months for struggling students. With the right instruction, kids who are hit the hardest finally have the opportunity to catch up.

Unfortunately, TNTP鈥檚 2018 multi-system study,, and its subsequent study revealed that students are rarely taught grade-level work, and they鈥檝e often seen the materials that are being covered in a previous class. As a result, while kids are getting As and Bs, they鈥檙e demonstrating mastery of grade-level standards just 17% of the time.

Bottom line? Kids are doing the work, but they aren鈥檛 being appropriately challenged. They鈥檙e caught in an incoherent moshpit of disconnected academic programming. Schools are underestimating students鈥� potential, and it鈥檚 backfiring on their ability to learn to read.

Schools need to prioritize a curriculum that is cohesive, knowledge-rich, and grade-appropriate to support true learning. If we鈥檙e going to ask kids for their time, let鈥檚 make it count.

Finally, schools need to be clear-eyed about how they are measuring success.

Today, the domain of English Language Arts is made up of three key areas that are interconnected: reading, writing and oral language. these areas work hand in hand to help students build their skills; writing improves reading comprehension, while oral language supports both reading and writing.

The problem? Most testing tools that are used for instructional decision-making focus on a small slice of what it means to be proficient in the higher order skills of ELA. They rely on limited data sets like from to draw conclusions around proficiency across the whole domain, sometimes with big consequences for kids and teachers and instructional programming. Often, these tests don鈥檛 measure grade-level proficiency, they measure recall. That鈥檚 why our children can get As and still not be proficient readers.

If schools want our kids to succeed in literacy 鈥� an imperative in the age of AI 鈥� there has to be a more advanced discussion about assessment. Schools need to adopt an assessment system that aligns with the domain of English Language Arts. That means moving away from single-point-in-time multiple choice testing strategies and adopting assessment practices that hold the bar for higher order reading, critical analysis, writing, speaking, communicating and collaborating.

Solving the literacy gap doesn鈥檛 require an overhaul of our education system or an innovation that is smarter than all humans combined. As educators, we can teach children to read who attend school for 15,000 hours. We need a collaborative, aligned effort to challenge the status quo. We need leaders who are willing to pull on the right levers for change: protect reading time, provide high-quality, grade-level materials and measure what actually matters

Since then, many school districts have indeed announced closures, including in the communities of and, where we live and work. More, unfortunately, are on their way.

School closure announcements can elicit the worst kind of deja vu. These feelings are well-founded. Atlanta plans to shutter schools in the south and west parts of the city, which is also where overwhelmingly live and where previous closures left several buildings vacant or underutilized for years. In Philadelphia, found that achievement gains occurred only when displaced students were moved into significantly stronger schools, while peers sent to schools of similar or lower quality did not benefit and, in some cases, saw setbacks.

It doesn鈥檛 have to be like this. Districts may have to close schools for financial or performance reasons, but they don鈥檛 need to exacerbate inequities along the way. By learning from past examples, we believe it鈥檚 possible 鈥� with thoughtful, comprehensive planning and deep and broad community engagement 鈥� for school closures to serve as a new opportunity for students, families and educators. 

The first of four steps to a more constructive, less harmful closure is about stabilization. The time between when a closure is announced and when students move out of the school can produce learning loss, staff instability and family stress. 

These in-between periods are not trivial lengths of time. Students at one Philadelphia school included in the district鈥檚 January announcement will . In other words, the students who are currently in kindergarten at this school are poised to spend their entire elementary years 鈥� through fifth-grade 鈥� in a school the district has said should close due to its low enrollment and poor facilities.聽

That鈥檚 a long time, especially considering students are impacted as soon as the closure is announced. found that the largest negative achievement effect occurred between the time when the closure was announced and when students actually moved to new schools. Students in schools that were being closed had scores that were lower than expected in the year of the closure: roughly in math.

To avoid this drop-off, districts can commit to maintaining through the school鈥檚 final year. They can also help reduce staff turnover by providing early clarity on placement processes, minimizing uncertainty about job security and offering retention support. 

The second step has to do with the building itself. Again, found that neighborhoods that experienced school closures led to and lower shared sense of capacity for neighbors to act together for the common good. Schools often serve as community anchors, and closing a school can make a community feel unmoored. Countering this outcome involves smart, collaborative planning to ensure buildings are invested in, not abandoned. By this measure, Philadelphia and Atlanta are off to a positive start; their closure plans include repurposing buildings for other uses, such as in Philadelphia and in Atlanta.聽

The third step is about student learning, particularly ensuring students leaving a closing school can attend a higher-quality alternative. This focus shifts the conversation from the non-academic factors that often drive closure decisions 鈥� like building utilization rates and the cost to repair aging facilities 鈥� and instead centers on student learning. Administrators must ask: Which local public schools could take in displaced students without reducing the quality of their education? 

This is not a quixotic exercise. Studies from multiple cities have when students are able to transfer to demonstrably stronger schools with higher achievement levels, more experienced teachers, richer course offerings and better facilities.聽

The fourth and final step is about the schools receiving new students. Especially with the months and, in many cases, years between when a closure is announced and when it takes place, there is no reason receiving schools should be caught flat-footed. These schools should have both academic and social-emotional support available for students, and districts should cap how many new students each school receives. The odds of giving individuals the support they need decrease with each additional student an institution takes in.

What we are calling for is a paradigm shift. District leaders need to begin shifting from announcing 鈥渨e鈥檝e decided to close schools鈥� to 鈥渨e鈥檝e decided to close schools and for preventing harm and maximizing student opportunity at every stage.鈥�

District leaders in Atlanta, Philadelphia, and elsewhere deserve credit for recognizing the trends and taking action. What鈥檚 important for these and other leaders to recognize, however, is that their work is just beginning. 

This social capital 鈥� the knowledge of how to forge connections that make opportunities visible and attainable 鈥� is the missing curriculum in American K-12 and postsecondary education. And it’s a shortcoming with consequences.

Young people from well-connected families absorb social capital almost by osmosis when it comes to learning things like how to ask for help, follow up and signal ambition without arrogance. Others, equally capable but from less-connected families, must figure this out alone. The result is unequal starting lines and unequal outcomes 鈥� a yawning between social wealth and social poverty. 

Social wealth means having not only knowledge and credentials, but relationships that open doors, including mentors who give advice, supervisors who challenge us when we need to grow and networks that surface opportunities. Social poverty is the absence of those assets. It is being a talented individual without advocates.

Research finds that students from higher-income families are far more likely to report having mentors who help them consider careers, internships and next steps than students from lower-income backgrounds, first-generation college-goers and young women, especially those without college-educated parents. They report thinner networks and fewer trusted adults to guide them through critical transitions.

One of the most schools and colleges can counter social poverty is through mentorship. It’s not just a “nice to have” experience; young people with mentors are more likely to persist in education and transition successfully into work than those who lack such guidance.

But schools treat mentorship as an optional add-on, something that happens only if a motivated teacher, counselor or employer goes above and beyond.

Psychologist David Yeager what young people need is not generic encouragement, but relationships combining high expectations and genuine support. Effective mentors don鈥檛 simply reassure students that they belong. They communicate that growth is expected and that effort will be taken seriously.

This builds trust and reinforces agency. Young people are more likely to persist when they believe that adults see their potential and are invested in helping them meet it.

Yeager suggests these dynamics can be designed and structured rather than left to chance. This doesn鈥檛 mean turning schools and colleges into networking factories or diluting academic rigor. It means recognizing that social development is educational development. 

Just as literacy requires instruction and practice, so does learning how to form professional relationships and networks, seek mentorship and navigate institutions.

What would it look like for schools and colleges to design a system that takes this responsibility seriously? Here are six principles to guide this effort.

1. Make mentorship universal, not exceptional. Mentorship shouldn鈥檛 depend on self-selection or teacher heroics. Schools and colleges should assign mentors, integrate advisory systems and partner with local organizations to ensure every student has sustained contact with at least one non-family adult mentor. 

2. Start early. Students should encounter mentors beginning in middle school, when identities and aspirations are still forming. These relationships should become more formal and structured as students progress through school and college. Mentorship should be framed as normal, not remedial.

3. Teach the skills of relationship-building. Social capital isn鈥檛 only about access 鈥� it鈥檚 about competence. Students need instruction and practice in how to ask for help, follow up after meetings, give and receive feedback, and navigate professional norms. These skills can be taught, rehearsed and assessed, just like writing or public speaking.

4. Connect learning to people and places. Career exploration should include visits to workplaces, not just abstract classroom discussions about careers. Opportunities to shadow professionals on the job, internships, project-based learning and alumni networks help students see how knowledge travels into the world, and who helps move it along.

5. Signal high expectations with high support. Mentorship programs should avoid coddling or coldness. Adults should communicate clearly that they expect students to grow, stretch and persist, and that they鈥檒l provide the guidance that makes growth possible.

6. Measure what matters. Schools and colleges track test scores and graduation rates but rarely monitor whether students graduate with mentors, references or professional networks. Simple measures, like verifying whether students can name adults who would help them find a job or write a recommendation, should serve as leading indicators of social wealth.

The remedy for this missing curriculum isn鈥檛 a mystery. It鈥檚 the will to treat social development as a core educational outcome rather than a byproduct. Reframing education around social wealth doesn鈥檛 diminish the importance of academic knowledge. It completes it. 

In a world where opportunity increasingly flows through relationships, schools and colleges that ignore social capital risk graduating students who are credentialed but stranded. Those that build it provide young people with the relationships and networks they need so they know that they are seen, supported and connected to a realistic future they can pursue.

That is the curriculum students need. And it鈥檚 one that schools and colleges can no longer afford to leave unwritten.

While students don鈥檛 typically attend these meetings, this one was different: students were present and at the center of the conversation. Scholars spoke candidly about their experiences with the school鈥檚 evolving model for clubs and internships 鈥� what was working, what could be improved and what they hoped would come next. The students were reflecting on a program called 鈥淲orldview Wednesday,鈥� which allows them to explore academic and career interests during the school day. The goal of the staff meeting was to identify implementation trends, including those raised by students, and improve structures for the following school year鈥檚 programming.  

What鈥榮 remarkable about CHEC鈥檚 approach to staff meetings is not just the clarity of the students鈥� insights or their sincerity in wanting to help improve programming; it鈥榮 the way the adults lean in, quite literally. Teachers nod, take notes and ask follow-up questions, resembling a co-design session more than a traditional staff meeting.聽

That was the CHEC leadership team鈥檚 goal. During school year 2024-2025, Principal Maria Tukeva and her staff had set the ambitious target to engage 20% of their learners in traditional adult decision-making spaces. They exceeded that aim, with 30% of their scholars participating over the course of the school year. That also led to student sense of belonging increasing by 7%, according to a school climate survey. 

I see members of the CHEC team modeling a monumental shift in power as staff members center student voice and revamp school culture. Across the country, pockets of school innovation and improvement have historically gained traction in one classroom or school, but their impact is often isolated. Innovative teachers and school leaders are busy people. Districts rarely have the resources, capacity, and system-level enablers to codify and diffuse promising school-level practice widely.  

Codifying and scaling school-level practice can look like curating resource libraries, developing blueprints or playbooks, or even establishing demonstration sites and hosting visits from other school teams so they can see promising practices in action. Districts play a key role in this process, from monitoring and elevating bright spots to providing added capacity and resources to invest in codification. 

They can also create enabling conditions for school innovation through flexible policies and infrastructure that allow promising practices to take root and grow. The , in partnership with the , has implemented some of these strategies to overcome challenges that districts have faced nationwide. The district  is fortunate to have dedicated Design Lab staff members who work with schools to design and evaluate programs, facilitate cohort-based development initiatives, and shape infrastructure and policy through collaboration with other district leaders. 

At CHEC, the student-centered, decision-making model during the school鈥檚 meeting in their cafeteria has become an exemplar for youth voice across the district. It has shaped district guidance for key planning processes 鈥� such as how stakeholders are engaged in the development of annual comprehensive school plans. I have even heard high schoolers from across DCPS present their own solutions to address chronic absenteeism at our Student Design Days. Some of our schools adopted these student-led ideas, resulting in an increase in-seat attendance by as much as 20%.鈥� 

Not far from CHEC is Paul Laurence Dunbar High School 鈥� America鈥檚 first public high school for Black students 鈥� where every eligible senior participates in an off-campus internship with a local nonprofit, government agency or business. The school鈥檚 鈥淐ity as Classroom鈥� model has contributed to an 18% increase in students on track for promotion and graduation. Driven by Dunbar鈥檚 pioneering efforts, DCPS codified processes for off-campus learning 鈥� clarifying site approvals and attendance tracking 鈥� making it easier for other schools to replicate the model. 

Just down the road at Cardozo Education Campus 鈥� every ninth grader engages in structured career exploration before selecting a pathway during a celebratory 鈥淒eclaration Day.鈥� Since launching this model, Career and Technical Education pass rates for the first course in chosen pathways have climbed to 93%. Encouraged, DCPS is expanding support for exploratory CTE opportunities districtwide. 

If we want innovation to scale beyond isolated stories of success, districts can invest in the infrastructure to help support and amplify promising innovations. That can mean creating dedicated roles and teams to provide capacity for codifying and disseminating best practices or building systems to capture and share these practices across campuses.  

But first, it means fundamentally recognizing school-level innovators as leaders for the future of learning. Treating local brilliance as the starting point for system-wide change unlocks the full potential of our schools and the communities they serve. The future of learning is already unfolding in our schools, and I am proud of our young people and our staff for leading the way. 

Disclosure: is a financial supporter of 社区黑料.

We are developmental cognitive neuroscientists who study how children鈥檚 daily interactions with parents, caregivers, teachers and peers shape , and development. We are not anti-AI, but we are extremely concerned about corporate efforts to market AI toys to parents and educators of young children. We do not yet know how many young children are already engaging with generative AI bots, but if are any indicator, this is a rapidly growing market. 

Some companies say their toys and devices are 鈥渁ge-appropriate鈥� and will support children鈥檚 learning and development, but that鈥檚 not always the case. For instance, the makers of Kumma, a plush teddy bear, promised to build conversational skills for children from ages 3 to 5. But the toy was pulled from the market last year after it was caught encouraging researchers testing it . 

Beyond these physical safety risks, we have essentially no data on how interacting with generative AI 鈥渇riends鈥� will shape very young children鈥檚 foundational brain, socioemotional and language development. Rather, the preponderance of evidence about how brain development works in the earliest years of life suggests that families should proceed with caution before letting their littlest children play with these new technologies in the form of toys.

We are not alone in this concern. Together with scientists around the world who study the exquisite, human-to-human interactions that shape early brain and cognitive development, we recently released an about the risks of direct infant-AI interaction. 

Decades of scientific studies paint a clear picture of optimal development in the first few years of life. Babies and toddlers grow and learn through daily, moment-to-moment interactions with their close caregivers. Indeed, humans cannot develop fully without these foundational interactions. Present, responsive, real-time interactions shape children鈥檚 language, sculpting their growing understanding of new words, grammar, pronunciation and social intentions. 

These real-time interactions shape children emotionally, helping them map their inner experiences to their outer perceptions. There is evidence that when a caregiver and a young child interact, 鈥� from eye contact to to heart rates, oxytocin levels, and even . 

Unlike AI models, which can parrot human-to-human interactions, caregivers pair their words with touch, eye contact and facial expressions that signal their love and attention. Real conversations include inside jokes, local dialects, family lore, and the distinct conversational patterns that make a family a family and a community a community. 

Development is about real-time rhythm, and every unique caregiver-child dyad develops their own. It鈥檚 not about perfection. It鈥檚 about presence, something an AI model can never and will never be able to provide. 

In fact, toys that imitate social responsiveness may interfere with an infant鈥檚 developing sense of how people relate to one another. The better these toys get at mimicking a parent, a child care provider, a grandparent or other adult caregiver, the more concerned we should be, particularly in the earliest years when infants and toddlers are developing a distinction between self and other  鈥� a growing awareness that the other humans who surround them each have inner worlds of their own. 

From a policy perspective, . There is much more to learn about these new technologies before parents let their babies play with them. 

Without these policy protections, parents and educators must take the lead, that simulate social reciprocity, replace face-to-face caregiving, or are designed to replace soothing behaviors that infants and toddlers need from caregivers in order to build attachment, trust and human connection.

The earliest recorded scientific experiments with electricity happened 3,000 years ago. Today, access to electricity has raised the standard of living for nearly the entire world. Still 鈥� after more than a hundred years of widespread use, safety standards and engineering to wield electricity for the common good 鈥� no responsible adult would let a child anywhere near it in raw form. 

AI has the power to improve human lives, but these are early days. We take for granted that we cover our light sockets to protect all our community鈥檚 children. We must take the same protective stance with AI.

That鈥檚 the finding of a from the Hoover Institution, based on its 鈥溾�� project. Hoover researchers held nine in-person focus groups across seven states 鈥� Colorado, West Virginia, Minnesota, Pennsylvania, Indiana, New Mexico and New York 鈥� and talked with 82 participants, from parents and teachers to leaders of nonprofit organizations and elected officials. The format combined short surveys with open-ended discussions, which allowed the researchers to gather a wide variety of information and hear the nuance behind it.

Of course, 82 participants across nine sites is a small sample, so the findings should be seen as qualitative and exploratory rather than nationally representative. Still, the responses identify some consistent patterns and offer some potential solutions. 

People don鈥檛 know how bad things are

The authors deliberately focused on communities where academic proficiency scores were low, in the bottom fifth of all schools statewide. Yet more than half of the participants weren鈥檛 familiar with how their local schools actually performed.

Focus group participants reported that they rarely heard news about student reading and math scores. Instead, they described district communications  as occasionally misleading. For example, one expressed concern that the local district was celebrating growth metrics that obscured persistently low performance. As another participant put it: 鈥淧arents can鈥檛 be involved if they aren鈥檛 informed. They can鈥檛 be informed if they aren鈥檛 invited.鈥�

Those who do know the ratings think their schools are failing

Among respondents familiar with the performance data, more than half rated their local district schools as needing improvement, or worse. When asked about the quality of different types of schools in their communities, participants gave district schools the lowest average rating, below charter and private schools and vocational programs. They described teachers ill-prepared for diverse classrooms, inadequate special education services and a striking absence of practical preparation for students in things like financial literacy or vocational and technical skills.

Communities want to help but feel shut out

A majority of participants said they want to be real partners in improving their schools, but fewer than a quarter said they think their districts actually want that. School boards, in particular, were rated as particularly unreceptive to community input.

The anecdotes reveal a repeating pattern: People show up to meetings, join committees, raise concerns 鈥� and are ignored, dismissed or labeled as troublemakers. In some communities, language barriers and unreliable translation services make things harder. In others, parents hold back out of fear that speaking up could affect how their children are treated in school. Overall, only about a quarter said they felt they could personally drive change. 

And yet, people are still willing to get involved. Nearly 90% of participants said they would join a community task force to improve their local schools. More than half said they鈥檇 take on an active or leadership role, and nearly two-thirds were optimistic about what a coordinated community group could accomplish. People may not think they can drive change on their own, but they still hold out hope for collective improvement efforts.

So what would actually help?

Participants had concrete suggestions like flexible meeting times, reliable translation services, transportation, modest stipends to recognize parents鈥� time commitments and protections against retaliation. Procedurally, they wanted to feel like they are being included early, not handed decisions after they have already been made.

None of this will be especially surprising to people who鈥檝e followed education debates over the years. This is not the first report to find that families are often excluded from decision-making.

Still, the Hoover research adds nuance and urgency. It offers a portrait of communities that are ready and willing to be involved, but are often blocked from doing so 鈥� and provides a set of suggestions for what changing that would take.

Written in response to the fatal shootings of Alex Pretti and Renee Good during federal immigration operations, the song offered more than commentary. It interpreted a national crisis, asking listeners to confront what state power looks like when it arrives in neighborhoods, on sidewalks and in the lives of ordinary families. 

That is precisely why this moment belongs not only on playlists and opinion pages, but in civic education.

Since then, the political terrain has shifted, but not in ways that make the issue less urgent for schools. President Donald Trump Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem after months of political fallout surrounding the administration鈥檚 immigration crackdown. 

Around the same time, reporting showed that the administration had scaled back the most visible ICE tactics in Minneapolis, there from roughly 3,000 agents to about 650, and shifted toward more targeted operations after the public backlash. Arrests declined in February, but ICE remains active, and the economic and civic damage in Minneapolis continues.

The retreat matters. It suggests that public protest, documentation by witnesses, investigative reporting and political pressure forced a tactical recalibration. But it also underscores a deeper lesson for educators: Students are living through a period in which official narratives, video evidence, journalism, protest and art are colliding in real time. 

Schools cannot pretend these are merely political controversies happening somewhere else. They are contemporary case studies in how democracy works, how it fails and how citizens push back.

The arrest earlier this month of , a Nashville-based reporter for a Spanish-language news outlet, makes that lesson even harder to ignore. Rodriguez Florez had been covering immigration arrests in Tennessee. Then ICE detained her, despite her pending asylum case, valid work permit and marriage to a U.S. citizen. 

Moments like this one shed light on why protest music is produced in response to government actions to silence individuals, raising essential civic questions for students to consider: Who gets to document state power? What happens when the people telling a community鈥檚 story become vulnerable themselves? And how should a democracy respond when journalism, immigration status, and political retaliation appear to converge?

Springsteen鈥檚 song is not a lone artistic response. Recent in Rolling Stone traces a broader wave of anti-ICE protest music released in the wake of the Minneapolis operations. Billy Bragg wrote 鈥淐ity of Heroes.鈥� NOFX released 鈥淢innesota Nazis.鈥� My Morning Jacket put out a benefit project, Peacelands, in solidarity with communities affected by ICE brutality. Bon Iver shared a live track to raise money for immigrant legal defense. Low Cut Connie and Dropkick Murphys have added their own contributions to this growing soundtrack of dissent.

Another Rolling Stone  places Springsteen鈥檚 song in a longer tradition of 鈥渋nstant protest songs,鈥� linking it to works such as Woody Guthrie鈥檚 鈥�,鈥� written in response to a 1948 plane crash that killed 28 Mexican migrant farmworkers being deported; Nina Simone鈥檚 鈥溾�� and Bob Dylan鈥檚 鈥�,鈥� written after the 1963 assassination of civil rights leader Medgar Evers; and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young鈥檚 鈥�,鈥� about the Ohio National Guard鈥檚 killing of four Kent State University students protesting the Vietnam War.

This history is what makes this such a consequential educational moment. Protest songs are not simply cultural accessories to political events. They are historical artifacts, rhetorical arguments and emotional archives. They help listeners name what has happened, assign meaning to it and imagine what moral response is required. In classrooms, they can help students examine competing claims about law, order, belonging and dissent without reducing complex issues to partisan slogans. 

Analyzing protest music asks students to interpret voice, perspective, evidence, omission and historical context. These are not ideological activities designed to indoctrinate youth. They are learning opportunities to build critical thinking and civic literacy skills.

The question is not whether teachers should tell students what to think about Bruce Springsteen, ICE, Kristi Noem or the Trump administration. The question is whether students should have the chance to grapple with how democracies narrate force, how communities contest official accounts, and how music, journalism, and protest shape public understanding. 

In elementary school, that might mean introducing age-appropriate examples of peaceful protest and the role of songs in movements for fairness. In middle school, it could mean comparing lyrics with speeches or media accounts and asking what each includes, emphasizes, or leaves out. In high school, it could mean examining how protest music enters political life as argument, memory, and civic witness.

The broader lesson is that protest is not alien to American history; it is one of the ways people have always argued about freedom. From abolitionist songs to civil-rights anthems to Springsteen鈥檚 Minneapolis lament, music has carried democratic conflict across generations. 

It has helped individuals feel the stakes of policies they might otherwise encounter only as abstractions. It has translated public tragedy into public argument. And that argument, however uncomfortable, is not something schools should avoid. It is something students should be prepared to enter with the skills of engaging in productive and divergent thinking on complex civic issues.

At a moment when federal officials are trying to soften the optics of immigration enforcement without abandoning its underlying machinery, and when a journalist covering immigration can herself be detained, schools should resist the temptation to retreat into silence. Young people need more opportunities, not fewer, to interpret the music, reporting, speeches and images shaping public life around them.

A democracy worthy of the next generation depends on an informed citizenry capable of productive disagreement. Protest songs do not threaten that project. They give students one of the essential ways to practice it.

The late Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes urged 鈥渘ot free thought for those who agree with us, but freedom for the thought that we hate.鈥� Abraham Lincoln mused, 鈥淚 don鈥檛 like that man; I must get to know him better.鈥�

These days, many Americans not only lack respect for those with different views, but actually think they are worse people. Opinions of one鈥檚 opposing party are . A found that large majorities of both Republicans and Democrats considered members of the other party immoral, dishonest and closed-minded.

Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, such dislike for and dehumanizing of people with different views has taken root among young people. According to , half of college sophomores would not room with someone who voted differently than they did, most wouldn鈥檛 date such a person, and almost two-thirds did not think they would marry one.

Saddest of all: Researcher has found that young people are as polarized as adults by , and the roots of pernicious us-and-them thinking emerge as early as .

Some observers believe increased division if anger at 鈥渢he other side鈥� drives civic participation or clarifies people鈥檚 positions. However, animosity also fuels hatred and violence, and leads some people to withdraw from shared decision-making and public conversation. At an October , a high school senior reported that many young people simply won鈥檛 voice their thoughts for fear of backlash.

How can adults ask Gen Z, Gen Alpha and those who come after them to engage thoughtfully across differences when grownups themselves do not work across divides? Here are five strategies for adult mentors:

• Give young people opportunities to explore ideas. Classrooms and school hallways have become high-risk places for disagreement. Students fear being judged in ways that cost relationships and permanently mark them on social media. But conversations may also be difficult with family members, who may be unavailable or unprepared for tough discussions. Young people need forums where they can test ideas without consequences, with trusted, well-prepared adults who won’t treat them like children.聽

Youth organizations and community centers can offer those forums. Leaders 鈥� mentors, clergy, coaches and program directors 鈥� must create thoughtfully designed discussion opportunities. Afterschool or weekend programs can be especially valuable in helping socioeconomically disadvantaged young people explore ideas when family, school or social resources are less available.

• Be vigilant when airing perspectives and creating space for discussion. Even when teachers, mentors and clergy try to frame things benignly, there is almost no neutral discussion of sociopolitical issues right now. Being well-intentioned is not enough. Leaders who engage with young people must recognize the difficulty, be clear about their own biases, sharpen their own preparation to navigate difficult conversations, show courage and signal and model openness. National initiatives such as ,, and can give adult leaders their own opportunities to observe, practice and model open discussion.
• Talk to young people directly about your own changes of heart. While vulnerability takes courage, it is important for leaders and mentors to admit to young people that they were once firmly convinced of something that later seemed like the dumbest thing they ever heard. They can tell the story of how they developed opinions, checked sources and learned from others. Young people say it is daunting to approach mentors who are firm and eloquent in their convictions. Help them understand how perspectives evolve and model building confidence in a viewpoint that starts from uncertainty.
• Begin with a low-stakes topic. Start by discussing issues that are not so charged: the best candy, the coolest game, the worst TikTok challenge. If the young people are ready, move on to more complex approaches that still allow non-threatening progress 鈥� like , in which participants assess different values, needs and options rather than quickly seeking one right solution to a thorny issue. This gives them a trial run at thinking about stakeholders and perspectives. Building this muscle in a group when the stakes are low can make more complicated conversations 鈥� like discussions of climate change and politics 鈥� possible.
• Dispel zero-sum thinking. Being certain that 鈥渙ur鈥� side winning is best for everyone while 鈥渢heir鈥� side winning is bad for everyone is a terrible binary habit of mind to pass along. Leaders, mentors, teachers and family members who engage with young people can help them develop the 鈥測es and鈥� approach as opposed to the constant 鈥渂ut鈥� response. This models empathy, a willingness to explore common ground and an openness to hearing varied perspectives.

It’s the leaders of today who created the situation young people are now struggling to deal with. It is the responsibility of all adults to help tomorrow’s leaders find a better path.

Unacceptably high numbers of students are testing below state standards, 50% in reading and more than 60% in math, according to state assessment data from the California Department of Education. Chronic absenteeism, while improving from pandemic peaks, remains well above pre-2020 levels in many districts. At the same time, school systems continue to teacher shortages and high early-career attrition.

Federal relief funds temporarily expanded tutoring and student support programs. But those dollars have largely expired. District leaders are now tasked with advancing academic recovery while operating in a far more constrained fiscal environment.

The question facing policymakers and superintendents is not whether students need more support. It is how to provide that support sustainably, without further overburdening teachers and budgets.

One statewide model offers an effective answer: the .

The network is a coalition of 14 AmeriCorps programs operating in more than 30 communities, from Sacramento to San Diego and Fresno to El Centro, with a presence at more than 200 schools and youth programs. The network recruits, trains and places full- and part-time student success coaches directly in K鈥�12 public schools.

These coaches are near-peer mentors and tutors. They鈥檙e typically recent high school or college graduates between the ages of 18 and 25 exploring careers in education and youth development or simply looking for what鈥檚 next in their lives.

Applicants are recruited locally and through higher education collaborations such as California Community Colleges. They undergo screening, interviews and background checks consistent with AmeriCorps requirements. Before entering schools, they receive training in tutoring strategies, relationship-building and student engagement.

Unlike short-term volunteers, the coaches are embedded on campus to become a part of the school community, not just a periodic guest. During their time of service, typically a full school year, they provide targeted, evidence-based support aligned with school priorities directly in the classroom. That can include one-on-one and small-group tutoring,. attendance support and family communication support, academic mentoring and goal setting and social-emotional skill reinforcement.

Coaches can be directed to provide priority support to students who are identified by school staff based on academic performance, attendance patterns or other indicators.

This model is built upon a strong body of research demonstrating that high-impact tutoring and consistent mentoring relationships can improve engagement and accelerate academic gains. A landmark meta-analysis of found that tutoring is one of the 鈥渕ost versatile and potentially transformative educational tools鈥� for substantial learning gains across grade levels.

Of course, coaches do not replace teachers, but they vitally extend classroom capacity, augment the learning environment and allow teachers to focus on core instruction. 

While AmeriCorps programs like this have existed for decades, the Student Success Coach Learning Network was created with intent to make a larger impact through the power of collaboration, information and resource sharing, and advocacy. The metrics support the efficacy of the efforts.

Across participating SSCLN programs in the 2023 and 2024 school years:

• 73% of students supported by Student Success Coaches improved their semester grades.
• 77% improved their grades over the full academic year.
• 95% of students served graduated from high school, compared with California鈥檚 statewide graduation rate of 87%.

Additionally, organizations within the network reported positive improvements in strengthening attendance efforts including reduced absenteeism and increased days attended, with two specific organizations showing an average 56% improvement in attendance-related measures. 

These results are consistent with national findings. A nationally representative survey of K鈥�12 principals conducted by the at Johns Hopkins University found that schools providing people-powered, evidence-based supports such as tutoring report measurable improvements in attendance and academic engagement.

For district leaders, the takeaway is straightforward: Additional trained adults embedded daily in schools help students stay on track.

Roughly 36% of student success coaches through this network pursue careers in education following their service year. A year spent working alongside teachers, students and families provides hands-on experience, professional mentorship and a bridge into teaching with a realistic view of classroom life.

This matters in a state where teacher shortages remain particularly acute in some communities.

The workforce implications extend beyond education. Research from , analyzing millions of job postings, found that seven of the 10 most in-demand skills are 鈥渄urable skills,鈥� including communication, teamwork, empathy and adaptability. Coaches practice these competencies daily as they collaborate with educators, communicate with families, and navigate complex student needs. In that sense, the model addresses two policy priorities simultaneously: student recovery and American workforce development overall.

Because AmeriCorps members receive a living allowance and a help paying off student loans or graduate school tuition through state and federal investment, districts can expand student support capacity with modest local contributions.

This structure offers flexibility as districts add educator capacity without committing to permanent staff positions that may be difficult to sustain during budget downturns. That can extend classroom capacity for students and strengthen a pipeline of future educators.

The impact is people helping people. Young adults are choosing to serve in support of students who might have looked a lot like them just a few short years earlier. They are supporting a teacher who may just need that extra hand and energy they gain through teamwork. And students gain access to a personal mentor whose support may just change their education trajectory. 

As California looks ahead to future budget cycles and leadership transitions, the question is not whether the state can afford to invest in coordinated, people-powered student supports.

It is whether it can afford not to.

Iowa鈥檚 governor said the approval would result in less time spent on administrative duties, allowing educators to put more resources and time back into the classroom.

Other states have pointed to the of having flexible accountability and assessment systems that reflect local priorities, foster innovation and empower local decision-making, rather than adhering strictly to federal mandates. But some education leaders, such as the , worry that if states ultimately establish 50 distinct accountability and improvement models, students鈥� access to learning accommodations and opportunities will vary based on where they live and learn. Academic outcomes can depend on the availability of tutoring, advanced coursework and enrichment, special education services, assistive technology and other supports.

As states consider the opportunities that waivers present for greater flexibility in using federal funds, they should consider lessons from the recent past. The pandemic-era Elementary and Secondary School Emergency Relief (ESSER) funds were a lifeline for schools, but they also exposed critical gaps in states’ approaches to innovation and evaluation. While ESSER funds enabled rapid response and recovery, the program lacked robust provisions for evaluating which strategies worked and why. As a result, there is limited evidence about which interventions 鈥� such as summer school, tutoring or targeted supports 鈥� were the most effective. 

For the department and states, the lesson is clear: Rigorous evaluation and continuous improvement must be embedded in the waiver and experimentation process from the start. States should clearly show how their plans connect to better student outcomes, and the department should assist them in these efforts. With more flexible financial strategies in place, states could find new ways to combine funds to reach their goals and learn from one another as they develop innovative approaches. Most importantly, however, states should ensure their investments include research and evaluation components, so they know what works and what does not.

Even as it cedes some control, the department has an important role to play in ensuring the following elements are in place: 

1. Purposeful Experimentation: States should be empowered to innovate, but with the expectation that they will rigorously evaluate new approaches and share what they learn. This will help ensure that successful strategies can be replicated and adapted elsewhere. Existing investments can be used toward these goals. For example, the Regional Educational Laboratories, the Comprehensive Center Network and the Educational Innovation and Research program help schools build their data-using skills and provide guidance on evidence-based practices.
2. Capacity Building: Many states will need expert guidance to design and implement effective reforms. Federal investment should focus on making lasting improvements, not just short-term fixes. The comprehensive network, for example, is a government-funded organization of regional centers that help states design, test and strengthen new ideas and strategies, and guide policymakers, state education agencies and educators in building the skills needed to improve teaching and learning.
3. Collaboration Over Isolation: The government should continue to facilitate collaboration among states, ensuring that innovations and lessons learned are shared widely. This may be done by providing insight on how to launch and sustain new programs and develop continuous improvement strategies, or by strengthening ongoing cross-state work through grants, technical assistance, conferences and national networks that help align standards, share data and improve student outcomes.

States have always been constitutionally responsible for providing public education, though federal policy 鈥� since the Elementary and Secondary Education Act (ESEA) was enacted in 1965 鈥� has incentivized states to serve disadvantaged students and promoted greater consistency in educational quality nationwide. 

Now, the department is signaling a willingness to let states experiment. But to avoid repeating the missed opportunities of ESSER, federal and state leaders must prioritize evaluation, capacity building and collaboration. Only then can the flexibility presented through these waivers lead to lasting improvements in educational excellence. 

That moment carried more than joy. It carried years of waiting lists, missed explanations, language barriers and advocacy in systems that were never designed with her family in mind.

Sof铆a鈥檚 story is not unique. Across the country, Latino families navigating special education often encounter structural barriers that make access more complicated than federal law intends. Under the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, schools are required to provide timely evaluations and ensure meaningful parent participation. Yet the lived experiences of many multilingual families suggest that implementation is uneven.

In 2022, launched , a community-based research initiative that trains Latino parents to document and analyze the realities facing families like their own. Parents are not research subjects in this model; they are the researchers. Two years later, ISLA 鈥� working within its parent-led research model, Padres Investigadores, and supported by research consultants 鈥� trained a new team of Latino parent researchers to design and conduct a statewide study examining how families in North Carolina navigate special education.

highlight important gaps in communication and access.

For many Latino families, entering special education means navigating two unfamiliar systems at once: disability services and English. Parents in our study described four stages in their journey: recognizing developmental differences, securing evaluations and diagnoses, accessing services and navigating schools, and managing communication challenges that created delays, confusion and stress.

More than half of parents were the first to notice developmental concerns in their children, not teachers or doctors. Yet many said those concerns were initially dismissed. While IDEA establishes timelines for evaluations, over 40% of families in our study reported waiting six months or longer. Nearly half identified language as their biggest barrier to accessing quality services.

In early childhood, time matters. Delays in evaluation and intervention can shape long-term educational trajectories. When families do not fully understand what services exist, what documents they are signing or what rights they hold, special education becomes harder to access equitably.

Language access is not simply a courtesy; it is essential for meaningful participation. Families described inconsistent interpretation, incomplete translations and meetings that moved forward without ensuring comprehension. One father told us, 鈥淭hey talked about my child鈥檚 future in a language I couldn鈥檛 speak.鈥�

Importantly, families were not disengaged. They attended meetings. They asked questions. They took notes. What they sought was clarity and partnership.

The parents in our study consistently named three priorities: clear multilingual information, culturally responsive communication and timely access to evaluations and services with reliable interpretation. These requests align closely with on effective special education practices.

One of the most powerful findings from this work is that when parents are included as partners in research and problem-solving, trust grows. Padres Investigadores shifts the dynamic from extraction to collaboration. Parents design questions, gather stories and interpret findings within their own communities. In doing so, they reveal insights that might otherwise remain invisible.

Natalia, who once felt overwhelmed when she heard the word 鈥渁utism鈥� connected to her son, is now one of those parent researchers. She supports other Spanish-speaking families navigating the same systems she once struggled to understand. Her leadership did not emerge from policy alone; it emerged from access to information and genuine inclusion.

Sof铆a鈥檚 first word through a device represents possibility. But possibility should not depend on a family鈥檚 fluency in English or familiarity with educational terminology.

Equity in special education is not only about compliance. It is about ensuring that families understand the process, feel respected in it and are able to participate meaningfully in decisions affecting their children.

When language access, cultural understanding and parent partnership are treated as foundational, not supplemental, special education systems move closer to fulfilling the promise embedded in federal law.

Listening to families like Sof铆a鈥檚 is not an act of charity. It is a necessary step toward building systems that work as intended 鈥� for every child.

States including Alabama, Louisiana and Mississippi have garnered attention in the media for offering lessons other states can learn from 鈥� a February New York Times opinion piece heralded the trio as 鈥�.鈥�

Yet the Southern surge narrative has, so far, largely ignored another commonality among those states: tremendous improvements in early childhood education.

The most commonly cited reasons behind the trend relate to , specifically a commitment to phonics-based pedagogy, and a willingness to who are not reading on grade level. Importantly, this did not happen overnight, and it didn鈥檛 occur in isolation: Rachel Canter, who led a Mississippi education policy and advocacy group that was instrumental in shaping the state鈥檚 approach, the New York Times that the 鈥淪cience of reading is really important 鈥� it was a key piece of what we did,鈥� but added that 鈥減eople are missing the forest for the trees if they are only looking at that.鈥�

Indeed, in the same 2013 legislative session in which Mississippi passed the , which codified many of its reforms, the legislature also passed its first state pre-K bill, the (ELCA). The ELCA was a state-funded initiative that established voluntary, free or low-cost, high-quality pre-K programs that operated through partnerships between private pre-K providers, school districts and, in some cases, Head Start programs. These collaboratives had to meet all put forth by the National Institute for Early Education Research (NIEER). Over the years, enrollment in the Collaboratives has : When they were launched in 2014, the Collaboratives served 1,774 children and by the 2022-23 school year, student enrollment in pre-K had reached 6,800.

In on how the ELCA came about, Canter explained that with major early childhood and K-3 reforms both passing at the same time, the policies were designed to align. For instance, the pre-K legislation required participating providers to administer a school readiness assessment that lined up with the one students would be asked to take in Kindergarten. Substantial funds were invested in instructional coaches for pre-K teachers, and in providing pre-K teachers with access to literacy professional development opportunities comparable to what the state鈥檚 K-3 teachers were being offered.

Around the same time, neighboring states were engaged in their own reform efforts. In 2012, the , commonly referred to as Act 3. This unified early childhood governance within the Louisiana Department of Education and set the stage for broad reforms. Over the next few years, Louisiana required every child care program that received a dollar of public money to participate in the state鈥檚 accountability system, which included getting a minimum of two quality-focused inspections per year. The bar was also raised for teacher qualifications, requiring all lead teachers in publicly funded early learning settings to have at least an , a state-based professional credential.

The efforts paid off. Researchers that from 2016 to 2019, the percentage of publicly funded early childhood education programs in Louisiana that scored proficient or above on the Classroom Assessment Scoring System (CLASS) rating scale 鈥� a commonly-used measure of teacher-child interactions 鈥� rose from 62% to 85%. For child care programs specifically, excluding state pre-K and Head Start classrooms, the percentage of programs scoring proficient or above increased even more impressively, from 40% in 2016 to 73% in 2019. The kids in those classrooms, of course, are many of the same kids who later on the National Assessment of Educational Progress鈥� fourth grade literacy exam.

Alabama, meanwhile, has long been a leader in pre-K. In 2001, the state launched First Class Pre-K, an initiative that funds full-day pre-K across a variety of school- and community-based settings. With a focus on quality, the system has been since 2006 as part of the organization鈥檚 . However, funding constraints kept the program small. In the mid-2010s, though, First Class Pre-K began to scale. Between 2012 and 2024, the number of participating 4-year-olds from about 3,600 to more than 24,000. Around the same time, the state made a major investment in coaching for pre-K teachers, and its coaching model grew from serving around 200 teachers in 2012 to nearly 1,500 as of 2024. When Alabama began leaning fully into the science of reading with its , pre-K teachers in public schools also started getting on the subject.

Connecting early care and education reform to the Southern surge is, of course, an exercise in correlation and not causation. As Canter pointed out with regard to the science of reading, this is a multifaceted story and assigning too much credit to any one factor is unwise. Moreover, other states that have made major investments to their early childhood education systems 鈥� such as California and its universal transitional kindergarten program 鈥� have not to date seen the same types of literacy gains. What does seem fair is speculating that in a counterfactual world where Mississippi, Louisiana and Alabama make the same reforms to K-3 but ignore early education entirely, the Southern surge would have been blunted. 

These states, then, offer important lessons for both early childhood and K-12 stakeholders around the importance of tightly and thoughtfully aligning both systems 鈥� in both directions 鈥� and ensuring there are enough resources present to support educators. Leaders don鈥檛 have to look far: groups like the have been developing alignment frameworks and tools for years. What鈥檚 needed is a renewed commitment, particularly among state and district leaders, to seeing early care and education not as a nice-to-have, a wholly separate enterprise, or even worse, a competitor 鈥� but as a core part of ensuring all children are reading on grade level. That might not be a miracle, but it would sure be an accomplishment.

In February, the organization I lead, , brought these two camps together when it became the new home for the program. The program is a system for whole-student learning that integrates high-quality instructional materials from leading curriculum providers, key life skills, real-time data and monitoring tools, with dedicated coaching. It has reached more than 250,000 students across 46 states. 

Some may wonder: “Why would an organization known for school design and innovation become the home for one of the most comprehensive high-quality instructional materials platforms in the country?” But the fact that we found our way to each other shouldn鈥檛 be surprising. It should feel overdue. 

I spent the first chapter of my career in education certain I had figured out the equation: Great teachers. Rigorous materials. High expectations. If you gave students access to challenging content and put skilled educators in front of them, outcomes would follow. I trained teachers on that logic. I watched it work often enough to trust it.

It wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t the whole story.

Over the years, visiting thousands of classrooms and talking with young people and their families, I kept seeing the same thing. Teachers were getting stronger. Curriculum was getting more aligned and rigorous. The field’s investment at the instructional core was raising the floor for millions of students. Yet, the experience around all of it was still mired in century-old assumptions about how learning actually happens. The daily interactions and activities through which young people build knowledge, skills, and identity had barely changed.

Young people can feel it. About 75% of elementary students say they love school. By high school, that number flips. Only one in four teenagers reports being truly engaged in learning, a crisis Jenny Anderson and Rebecca Winthrop lay bare in The Disengaged Teen. Students are simultaneously bored and overwhelmed. 

Families are voting with their feet, too. Public school enrollment has fallen by nearly two million students since 2020, with in some states and private school enrollment surging. In New York City alone, sits 11% below pre-pandemic levels, and 41% of departing families cited a desire for more rigorous, engaging instruction.

This is what led me to co-found Transcend. For the past decade, we’ve been helping communities design learning environments where strong instruction meets intentional experience design, where the learning itself is engaging, relevant, relationship-rich and connected to who students are and who they’re becoming.

Consider what this looks like in practice. At Intrinsic Schools in Chicago, strong academic content lives inside a learning environment where even the physical design of the building is responsive to the learning experience. Multiple teachers work with students across different learning modalities in a single large classroom, adjusting instruction in real time based on individual goals and needs. 

On Choice Days, students build their own schedules, selecting academic supports like writing labs alongside enrichment they care about. Three times a year, students lead their own conferences with advisors and families, reflecting on their growth and mapping their path forward. The instructional core is rigorous. The experience is intentional.

At the same time, Gradient Learning鈥檚 movement to strengthen the instructional core has accomplished something that needed doing. I would never want us to stop investing there. When I visit schools with strong teaching and learning systems, I see students doing more meaningful work. The kind of work necessary for thriving in the world they are about to inherit.

That hard infrastructure, though, operates inside a learning environment. If that environment hasn’t been intentionally shaped, even the strongest instructional elements hit a ceiling. The science of learning and development tells us why. The brain does not process content in isolation from context. 

Learning is shaped by relationships, by whether students feel safe and known, by whether the work connects to something that matters to them, by whether they have agency in the process. Belonging activates the neural architecture that makes deep learning possible. Students actively construct knowledge , and no amount of well-sequenced information changes that fact.

We take for granted everywhere, except school, that experience matters. When we choose a restaurant, book a hotel or pick a doctor, we want to know how it felt to be there. In education, we’ve largely measured only outcomes while leaving the daily experience of learning itself unexamined. That is a gap we must close.

Community-based design, which I discussed in a recent , is how we close it. Students, families, educators, and learning experts must come together to rethink how we do school. 

This work builds the environment that strong instruction requires. The Gradient Learning program finding its home at Transcend is the bridge. Rigorous, aligned instructional materials now sit inside an organization designing the learning environments where those materials can do their best work.

AI, economic disruption and civic fracture are reshaping the world our students are entering. School is one of the few institutions positioned to help young people navigate all of it. But we won鈥檛 meet this moment through one-size-fits-all mandates handed down from above, nor by asking exhausted educators to innovate on nights and weekends. 

The path forward is a third way: communities redesigning schools together 鈥� drawing on research, proven models, and local wisdom to build learning environments where rigor and meaning reinforce each other, where young people are held to high expectations and supported as whole human beings, and where the daily experience of learning is as intentional as the curriculum itself.

The false choice between rigorous instruction and bold design has held the field back long enough. The schools that figure this out will be the ones young people actually want to attend. Our field has all the pieces. It’s time to put them together.

With Congress engaged in broader debates about education, technology and data privacy, this is a moment when FERPA modernization is no longer an abstract policy discussion. Congress should update FERPA so it can do what its original authors intended: safeguard student privacy and serve families.

FERPA was enacted in 1974 鈥� over 50 years ago 鈥� to codify with whom and under what circumstances schools could share students鈥� personally identifiable information. But since then, the ways in which student data is handled have seismically shifted. 

Today, districts and schools store and share data digitally 鈥� not on paper stored in filing cabinets. Yet FERPA remains rooted in a paper-record era that predates real-time dashboards and digital tools. The law does not yet account for the rapidly evolving technology-driven practices that affect student privacy.

Parents are rightly wary of how their children鈥檚 data is collected, stored and used 鈥� especially as data breaches continue to make headlines. A FERPA that reflects America’s current digital landscape is long overdue. 

Because FERPA has never been statutorily updated, states and school systems are left to navigate a murky and complicated legal landscape as they work to both protect students and share data in smart ways. This ambiguity can result in states, school districts or colleges and universities from responsible data-sharing practices out of fear of violating FERPA鈥檚 convoluted provisions.

All this ultimately denies families access to the very insights and information they need to advocate for their children. Heightened concern about student data privacy should be met with clearer rules designed to modernize security protections and build trust with families, not used as an excuse to prevent action or to cease sharing useful information with parents.

This is not what student data privacy should look like. And it鈥檚 certainly not what families deserve. The nation can 鈥� and must 鈥� do better.

A modernized FERPA must ensure that student information is safeguarded with the highest standards of security and ethical use, while empowering families with the information they need to make informed decisions. Parents are clear that they want access to this information: say they support requiring schools to provide access to transparent data on student achievement, discipline and enrollment for families and policymakers. And say easier access to information would help them feel more confident about their ability to help their child make decisions about life after high school. 

It鈥檚 time for Congress to modernize FERPA so it works for today鈥檚 families. That means setting strong, enforceable privacy standards to ensure student data is protected. It also means affirming families鈥� rights to access information that empowers them: data on academic progress, school quality and services available to help students thrive.

An updated FERPA should also unlock the potential of state data systems that securely connect longitudinal information across early childhood, K-12, postsecondary and workforce programs 鈥� systems that can enable parents, students, educators, policymakers and the public to understand what鈥檚 working for students and what鈥檚 not. Today, FERPA鈥檚 framework does not reflect how cross-agency data can be used to, for example, connect high school students with college scholarship programs or assess return on investment for a district鈥檚 tutoring programs.

Student privacy and parent empowerment are not competing goals. With the right legal framework, congressional leaders can achieve both. Parents shouldn鈥檛 have to choose between protecting their children鈥檚 information and knowing how to help them succeed.