Electric school buses that were supposed to cut one Maryland county school system's transit costs in half actually cost the system millions of dollars. A report by the Montgomery County Office of the Inspector General found the buses were often delivered late and frequently had mechanical issues that "rendered them inoperable for extended periods." As a result, the school system had to spend more than $14.7 million to buy 90 diesel buses to cover
Electric school buses that were supposed to cut one Maryland county school system's transit costs in half actually cost the system millions of dollars. A report by the Montgomery County Office of the Inspector General found the buses were often delivered late and frequently had mechanical issues that "rendered them inoperable for extended periods." As a result, the school system had to spend more than $14.7 million to buy 90 diesel buses to cover routes. The delays and repair issues entitled the school system to more than $372,000 in penalties from the contractor, but no administrator ever pursued it.
North Carolina is one of the few states to keep detailed statistics on homeschoolers—who are famously resistant to scrutiny, and for good reason—and officials in the state recorded an interesting development this year. After dipping from a pandemic-era high when public schools were closed or generally making a poor job of remote learning, the ranks of homeschoolers have again begun to rise. With census figures showing similar growth elsewhere, we
North Carolina is one of the few states to keep detailed statistics on homeschoolers—who are famously resistant to scrutiny, and for good reason—and officials in the state recorded an interesting development this year. After dipping from a pandemic-era high when public schools were closed or generally making a poor job of remote learning, the ranks of homeschoolers have again begun to rise. With census figures showing similar growth elsewhere, we have further evidence that DIY education is here to stay.
By contrast, traditional public school enrollment is declining.
"Traditional public schools have 1,358,003 students in 2023-24, losing 0.4% of students from last year to this year and down 3.6% overall from before COVID-19," according to Chantal Brown of EducationNC, which covers education issues in the state. "Charter schools have 139,985 students in 209 schools in 2023-24, gaining 4.9% over last year."
North Carolina isn't alone. In May, Carly Flandro of Idaho Education Newsfound, based on Census Bureau Household Pulse Survey data, "about 6% of Idaho students were home-schooled, on average, during the past two school years. And the state data that is available shows increases since the height of the pandemic. At the same time, public school enrollment dipped this year for the first time since the 2020-21 school year."
Newsweek's Suzanne Blake added that Texas also saw a rise in homeschooling in a continuation of a trend that began "even before the pandemic."
A National Taste for DIY Education
In fact, the Census Bureau's Household Pulse Survey, which takes a continuing series of snapshots of data over the course of each year, shows a national increase among the ranks of homeschooled students from roughly 3.6 million in 2022–2023 to about 4 million this past year (there's variation depending on the snapshot you examine, so it's best to look for averages). Meanwhile, public school enrollment declines.
"In the first week (April 23-May 5) of Phase 1 of the Household Pulse Survey, about 5.4% of U.S. households with school-aged children reported homeschooling," the Census Bureau reported of comparing data from the spring of 2020 to the fall of that year. "By fall, 11.1% of households with school-age children reported homeschooling (Sept. 30-Oct. 12)."
But before the pandemic, the folks at the Homeschool Hub remind us, "homeschooled students between the ages of 5 and 17 made up 2.8% of the total student population in the United States in 2019." That means that, while a lot of families that took to homeschooling out of necessity returned to familiar public schools when they could, enough stuck with it to more than double the number of homeschooled kids. With COVID-19 and intrusive public health policies largely a bad memory, homeschooling continues as an increasingly popular practice as a matter of choice.
Fleeing Public Schools…
In a June article about declining public school enrollment in EducationWeek, Mark Lieberman explained that about half of the loss can be attributed to population changes as the number of kids declines, but about 20 percent fled to private alternatives and another 20 percent turned to homeschooling. (Another 10 percent are unaccounted for, though some probably skipped kindergarten and others may be in DIY arrangements such as homeschooling and microschools, but unreported.)
Lieberman delved into the school choice programs that let education funds follow students to the options of their choice rather than being assigned to brick-and-mortar public schools. But he didn't examine what might drive families to abandon the familiar for education alternatives the require greater dedication and commitment.
Disappointment with schools' pandemic responses clearly played a role in driving many families to try educating their own kids—and many liked the experience. But so do endless battles over how kids are taught and, especially, what is incorporated in the lessons presented to them by often deeply politicized schools. To please one faction of parents with spin that they like is to inherently alienate others.
…To Escape Pointless Conflicts
"Schools in many parts of the U.S. have become a battleground and parental involvement is one of the topics at the center," ABC News reported last September. "Fights in school board meetings, including in Chester County, [Pennsylvania] have erupted over how race, sexual orientation, gender and other topics are brought up, or taught, in the classroom."
Families can fight school administrators and other parents in struggles that inevitably leave those on the losing side unhappy with lesson content. It makes sense for those who lose to withdraw their children from the public schools in favor of lesson plans and approaches that meet their standards. For that matter, it's tempting for even those on the winning side to forego the curriculum wars and just pick the education they like for their kids without battling their neighbors. Why argue with your ideological opponents over what should be taught when you can ignore them and teach your kids what you please?
"When parents can choose where and how their children will be educated, they're no longer at the mercy of politicians and bureaucrats," the Cato Institute's Colleen Hroncich wrote in 2022. "That means they don't have to rely on political battles when it comes to education."
That's undoubtedly a big part of the impetusmothe for recent school choice victories that expand options for families, as well as decisions parents and students make to embrace those options. Homeschooling and other education alternatives are on the rise because they're liberating, and they work.
In a win for the separation of church and state, the Oklahoma Supreme Court ruled that Oklahoma’s approval of the nation’s first religious public charter school violates the state constitution and charter-school statute, as well as the U.S. Constitution. The decision affirms what we already knew: A religious school can’t be a public school, and a public school can’t be religious.
Last year, St. Isidore of Seville Catholic Virtual School applied to the Oklahoma Virtual Charter School Board to bec
In a win for the separation of church and state, the Oklahoma Supreme Court ruled that Oklahoma’s approval of the nation’s first religious public charter school violates the state constitution and charter-school statute, as well as the U.S. Constitution. The decision affirms what we already knew: A religious school can’t be a public school, and a public school can’t be religious.
Last year, St. Isidore of Seville Catholic Virtual School applied to the Oklahoma Virtual Charter School Board to become a public charter school. The school, which would have been managed by the Archdiocese of Oklahoma City, proclaimed in its application that it would carry out “the evangelizing mission of the [Catholic] Church” by fully embracing its religious teachings and incorporating those teachings “into every aspect of the School.” The school also acknowledged that it would discriminate in admissions, student discipline, and employment, as necessary to satisfy the Catholic Church’s religious doctrine, and that it would not accommodate a student’s disability if doing so would violate the school’s Catholic beliefs.
Despite warnings from the Oklahoma attorney general, education groups, and civil rights organizations that public schools—including charter schools—cannot legally teach a religious curriculum or discriminate against students and employees, the Virtual Charter School Board approved St. Isidore’s application and entered into an agreement allowing the school to begin operating for the upcoming school year. Today, in ordering the state board to rescind its contract with St. Isidore, the Oklahoma Supreme Court sent a pointed message: Our public schools are for education, not evangelizing.
"Our public schools are for education, not evangelizing."
The court held that charter schools, which are funded by the state, created as government entities, and expressly characterized in state law as “public schools,” are, of course, just that – public schools. As a result, the court explained, a religious public charter school violates not only the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment, but also Oklahoma’s charter school law and constitution, which forbid public schools from imposing religious teachings on students. “Enforcing the St. Isidore contract would create a slippery slope and what the [state constitution’s] framers warned against—the destruction of Oklahomans’ freedom to practice religion without fear of governmental intervention,” the court stated.
The ruling comes in response to a petition filed with the Oklahoma Supreme Court by the Oklahoma attorney general, who sought to rescind the Charter School Board’s contract with St. Isidore. Although some people may be surprised that a Republican attorney general would object to the nation’s first religious public charter school, safeguarding the separation of church and state is not, and never should be, a partisan issue.
That’s why the ACLU, along with Americans United for Separation of Church and State, Education Law Center, and the Freedom From Religion Foundation, filed a friend-of-the-court brief in the case supporting the attorney general. Even before the attorney general filed his petition, we brought suit in Oklahoma state court on behalf of parents, faith leaders, and public-school advocates who don’t want their tax dollars used to fund a religious public school that discriminates against students and staff and promotes religious doctrine.
Church-state separation is a cornerstone of our democracy. It’s critical to preserving the right of every person to decide for themselves—without pressure from the government—which religious beliefs, if any, to hold and practice. It also ensures that the government doesn’t undermine religion either by co-opting it for political purposes or rendering religious institutions dependent on the state to spread their faith. Indeed, the U.S. Supreme Court has repeatedly emphasized that the separation between religion and government is particularly crucial in our public schools, which, by design, freely serve all students equally regardless of religious background or preference.
St. Isidore is, and has always been, free to open as a private religious school that taxpayers would not be forced to support. It is not free, however, to assume the mantle of a public school—including all the associated legal and financial benefits—while flouting the Oklahoma and U.S. Constitutions. The Oklahoma Supreme Court recognized as much, explaining, “What St. Isidore requests from this court is beyond the fair treatment of a private religious institution receiving a generally available benefit…It is about the state’s creation and funding of a new religious institution violating the Establishment Clause.”
In California, Cajon Valley Union Superintendent David Miyashiro ran up nearly $400,000 in charges on his school district credit card between May 2022 and March 2024. Miyashiro spent thousands of dollars for professional conferences and memberships in education associations, while also spending $76,000 on hotels, $30,000 on airfare, $10,000 on rideshares, and $50,000 on food plus another $115,700 on catering; his average purchase during that peri
In California, Cajon Valley Union Superintendent David Miyashiro ran up nearly $400,000 in charges on his school district credit card between May 2022 and March 2024. Miyashiro spent thousands of dollars for professional conferences and memberships in education associations, while also spending $76,000 on hotels, $30,000 on airfare, $10,000 on rideshares, and $50,000 on food plus another $115,700 on catering; his average purchase during that period was $19,000. Miyashiro is one of the highest-paid superintendents in the state, receiving a $408,000 annual salary, an $800 monthly car allowance, and a $300 monthly stipend for business expenses.
Pastor Joshua Robertson didn't set out to become a leader in the educational freedom movement, but when his community called, he answered. It was several calls, in fact. In spring 2020, Robertson's phone wouldn't stop ringing. "I was receiving 40–50 calls from parents every single day," says Robertson, the senior pastor of The Rock Church in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. These were the early days of the COVID-19 lockdowns. The move to remote learning
Pastor Joshua Robertson didn't set out to become a leader in the educational freedom movement, but when his community called, he answered.
It was several calls, in fact. In spring 2020, Robertson's phone wouldn't stop ringing. "I was receiving 40–50 calls from parents every single day," says Robertson, the senior pastor of The Rock Church in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.
These were the early days of the COVID-19 lockdowns. The move to remote learning gave parents a closer look at their children's schooling—and they didn't like what they saw.
"All these parents were venting about the school system," Robertson recalls. "They would say to me, 'My kid is smart. I can't understand why they're not doing well academically.' Then throw in the violence in our schools. You're talking about kids who are in fistfights every other day."
Feeling hopeless, the parents turned to a different kind of teacher.
Turning Point
Our education system has significant problems, and Robertson knows it is especially tough on children in under-resourced communities like the one he serves. He had experienced the system's failures firsthand: Robertson graduated from high school without knowing how to read properly.
Robertson went to college to play football but flunked out his freshman year.
Before failing out, Robertson befriended a bishop while playing organ at a local church. But without school or sports to occupy him, he fell into a dangerous lifestyle, surrounding himself with unsavory characters and illicit behavior. As if he sensed the need to intervene from hundreds of miles away, the bishop called Robertson in the middle of one such indiscretion.
"You're about to ruin your life, aren't you?" the bishop asked. He pleaded with Robertson to come to see him. Robertson went, and the bishop enrolled them both in the local community college. The two sat side by side doing schoolwork together.
"In less than a week, he saw that I couldn't read," Robertson says. "It's amazing—you can attend twelve years of school, and no one notices that you can't read. But, because the bishop took the time to sit with me, he saw it right away. And over the next year, he sat with me day after day and taught me to read."
The man who flunked out of college because he couldn't read went on to earn both a bachelor's and a master's degree.
When the System Fails Children
"I was failed by a system, not just by a teacher," Robertson explains. "I had a few teachers who cared. But every system has gaps. And I fell into a gap."
Many educators assumed he had behavioral issues. "I was kicked out of every elementary school I ever went to," Robertson says. "What people didn't realize was that my behavior covered up my reading problems. In fifth grade, I got in trouble for hitting a kid in class. I hit him to create a diversion. The teacher was having students read aloud, and I had a feeling she was about to call on me to read."
This behavior is common among students who are left behind by the system. "They'll do something mischievous because they'd rather take the disciplinary consequence than be embarrassed in front of the whole class." Robertson says students who aren't learning well enough at school often lack any support at home, which leads to them getting into worse situations.
"They have an industry right outside their door where they can make money—the drug industry," says Robertson. "It's right on their block. I knew where people were cooking crack when I was 10 or 11 years old."
Robertson says this is where the school-to-prison pipeline begins. So he has given himself a mission: "We're trying to cut off that pipeline."
From Failure to Flourishing
Parent after parent asked him the same question: "Can my kids come to the church?"
The pastor's first thought was, "Come here for what?" Then Robertson remembered what the bishop had done for him years earlier.
"He inconvenienced his entire life in order to help me," Robertson says.
One church member had lost her job because of the pandemic, and Robertson realized she could help students with homework and provide other programming. "We took a risk and hired her," he says. "We had the facilities already with our Sunday school classrooms."
Six students from the local school district began coming to the church to do their online learning. The newly hired learning guide helped them with their homework and ensured the students sat at their computers with the cameras on when they had live lessons.
Word spread in the community. Demand continued to grow, even after schools returned to in-person classes. And so, in 2021, the Rock City Learning Center (RCLC) was born.
During the 2021–22 school year, the RCLC served 30 students—29of whom were failing academically. By the end of the school year, 10 students finished with an average of 90 or higher across all subjects, 12 achieved an average of 80 or higher, and six finished at 70 or higher.
The following year, RCLC students saw even more significant gains. About 90 percent of the students finished with an average of at least 70, and more than half scored 90 or better.
The learning center filled in the gaps left by the system, and students who were failing are now flourishing.
A Model for Others
"These kids need an intervention—a disruption to the aspects of our schools that limit their ability to offer effective education for all students," says Robertson.
The RCLC prioritizes the student. Students receive their instruction and curriculum from an accredited public cyber charter school. They work in small pods and receive coaching from trained learning guides.
Robertson believes that the RCLC's real innovation lies in the "convergence of the academic community and the community at large." The learning guides are not educators; they are "members of the community who love our children." They provide support that extends beyond academics, customizing the experience for for each student.
When students get the support they need, they thrive. "It's incredible the confidence you see in a kid when they're loved, supported, and disciplined," Robertson says. "They understand…they're in a place that cares about them and their specific needs, challenges, and talents."
Robertson founded Black Pastors United for Education (BPUE) to help others replicate the RCLC model. Harrisburg now has three learning centers, and another opened in nearby York. BPUE was a Yass Prize finalist—a prize that honors organizations delivering "Sustainable, Transformational, Outstanding, and Permissionless education"—and received a $500,000 grant to continue advancing its work.
Fighting for Educational Freedom
In June, Pennsylvania's Democrat-controlled House of Representatives passed a bill that would cut funding to charter schools. Robertson is fighting against this effort and notes that Pennsylvania's charter schools "serve a higher percentage of low-income and nonwhite students than traditional school districts." If the bill becomes law, the hardest-hit schools would be the cyber charter schools where the RCLC students enroll.
Another goal of Roberston's political fight is a proposal for Lifeline Scholarships. This program would award restricted-use scholarship accounts to students attending Pennsylvania's lowest-performing schools. In 2023, Pennsylvania Democratic Gov. Josh Shapiro backed out of a budget deal that would have provided $100 million for Lifeline Scholarships.
On June 10, Robertson and nearly 60 other pastors and educators signed an open letter to Shapiro and the state's legislative leadership. The letter called on the leaders to oppose cuts to cyber charter schools and enact Lifeline Scholarships.
The next day, Roberston led a rally for educational freedom in the state Capitol. He also published an op-ed pleading with Shapiro to invest in educational freedom. "Today, a child's zip code determines whether she can read or perform basic math," wrote Robertson. "And this is simply unacceptable."
It has been a long journey for the pastor—from flunking out of college to leading this fight for educational freedom. Looking back on his experience, he says, "The bishop started with one person: me. And that one person he made an investment in is now making this investment in others. That's how it's supposed to work, right?"
A group of Burlington, Vermont, high school students were touring a local police department as part of a forensics class this week. In the middle of a presentation from a detective, the unthinkable happened: a masked gunman burst into the room and seemed to open fire. The students were terrified. One says she dove on the ground, hurting her knee. Another says she reached for her phone to text her mother. But soon, the students realized that they
A group of Burlington, Vermont, high school students were touring a local police department as part of a forensics class this week. In the middle of a presentation from a detective, the unthinkable happened: a masked gunman burst into the room and seemed to open fire.
The students were terrified. One says she dove on the ground, hurting her knee. Another says she reached for her phone to text her mother.
But soon, the students realized that they weren't actually being shot at. Instead, they were the victims of a bizarre "demonstration" from the local police.
According to Seven Days, a Vermont independent newspaper, the students had no idea that the presentation would involve a mock shooting. Students were watching a detective speak at the front of a room when they heard screams. Two women ran in, followed by a man wearing a ski mask, who—it seemed—began firing.
"I'm shaking and crying because I'm like, 'Oh my god, I'm gonna get shot,'" one student told Seven Days. "It felt so real."
The students eventually realized that the shooting was fake after police officers in the room failed to do anything to stop the apparent gunman.
While performing a fake mass shooting with high schoolers was obviously a terrible idea, it's unclear whether high school staff also share some blame for needlessly terrifying the students.
The teachers told Seven Days that, while they knew officers would possibly demonstrate a "gunshot-related crime," they had no idea they wouldn't be warned first. However, in an email obtained by Seven Days, "teachers said officers told them that they'd previously used the lesson with college students and adults, and that they wanted the event to be 'as realistic as possible.'"
In a statement, police claimed that school staff had agreed to the content of the demonstration and that it would include "fake firearms in a mock shooting."
"Do you think that sort of incident would be ok for your group of students?" police asked school employees on May 23. "It is about as real life as you can get, and is certainly exactly the sort of thing we deal with most frequently."
"I think these students will be fine with this simulation," school employees replied, according to a statement from police. "We will give a heads up to parents and students."
No matter how you slice it, there's not much educational utility to having a fake gunman commit a "mock shooting" in a room full of unaware high school students. However, it's far from the first time that police have gone overboard with educational demonstrations like this. In 2019, police in Indiana shot elementary school teachers with airsoft guns during an active shooter training drill. Those teachers filed a lawsuit.
Joanna Andreasson/DALL-E4 Will AI kill the five-paragraph essay? To find out, I asked my ninth grade English teacher. The five-paragraph essay is a mainstay of high school writing instruction, designed to teach students how to compose a simple thesis and defend it in a methodical, easily graded package. It's literature analysis at its most basic, and most rigid, level. A typical five-paragraph essay asks students to pick a simple thesis, usually
Will AI kill the five-paragraph essay? To find out, I asked my ninth grade English teacher.
The five-paragraph essay is a mainstay of high school writing instruction, designed to teach students how to compose a simple thesis and defend it in a methodical, easily graded package. It's literature analysis at its most basic, and most rigid, level.
A typical five-paragraph essay asks students to pick a simple thesis, usually from a list of prompts, and compose a short introductory paragraph, followed by three paragraphs each laying out a different piece of supporting evidence, followed by a final paragraph—usually beginning, "In conclusion…."
Criticsargue this assignment kills student creativity and turns writing into an exercise in pure drudgery. I tend to agree, remembering my time spent composing five-paragraph essays as soul-rending—forcing me to focus on sticking to a formula and a restrictive prompt rather than actually analyzing the books I was reading.
But the sudden ubiquity of large language models such as ChatGPT threatens to upend this status quo.
"I am *shocked* by how good OpenAI's new chat" is, University of Toronto professor Kevin Bryan tweeted after the first release of ChatGPT. "You can no longer give take-home exams/homework."
To test this hypothesis, I sat down in front of ChatGPT and gave it a classic freshman-year English prompt: "Please write me an approximately 500-word, five-paragraph essay discussing the role of Newspeak in controlling the people of Oceania in George Orwell's novel, 1984. Please use MLA formatting and include 1–2 quotes per paragraph."
"In George Orwell's dystopian novel '1984,' the ruling Party of Oceania employs Newspeak as a potent tool for controlling the thoughts and behaviors of its citizens," the essay begins. "Newspeak, a language designed to limit freedom of expression and thought, serves as a mechanism for the Party to maintain its authoritarian rule and suppress dissent. Through the manipulation of language, the Party effectively restricts the ability of individuals to articulate dissenting ideas, ultimately consolidating its power over the population."
And then I sent it to my ninth grade English teacher.
Corey Craft taught English at the Alabama School of Fine Arts for nine years and now serves as an instructor in the school's creative writing department. A decade ago, I first read 1984 for his class.
"I'd give this essay a mid-level B—an 85," he told me. "Is the content OK? Sure. It's a little surface-level…but it gets the major points right."
Yet he also noted the essay's impressive vocabulary—phrases such as "linguistic manipulation" and "reshape historical narratives"—would sound some alarm bells. "There are words and concepts used in this paper that I would find suspicious coming from the average ninth grader," Craft added.
ChatGPT also made another glaring fumble—producing a six-paragraph essay, despite my multiple attempts to rephrase the prompt so it would stick to just five paragraphs.
While the typical ninth grade cheater might not be clever enough to fix these mistakes—Craft says he sometimes sees plagiarism where students have copy-pasted text without changing the font or text color—it's only a matter of time before tools such as ChatGPT work out these kinks.
Much to the chagrin of the five-paragraph essay's harshest critics, myself included, it doesn't look like ChatGPT will spell the end of the assignment. While five-paragraph essays are achingly dull, they do serve a simple purpose—they match the median student's ability level, even if it means leaving behind the significant minority of kids who can barely read by eighth grade and infuriating a small cohort of nerds who end up getting degrees in Renaissance literature.
There simply isn't an obvious alternative to the five-paragraph essay—and certainly not one that is somehow immune from inevitable AI mimicry. In a ChatGPT-saturated world, teachers will likely resort to giving students handwritten, in-class five-paragraph essays instead of ditching the assignment entirely—even if this is "more of a pain for the student to complete and more of a pain for the teacher to grade," Craft notes.
In short, rather than reshape writing instruction, educators will find new, less technology-dependent ways to keep doing the same thing.
"That may take trial and error," Craft says, "but that's part of the fun of the job."
A mom recently went to her daughter's Maryland elementary school to ask why the kids aren't allowed to play tag at recess—or even to close their eyes. "We'd recently transferred from another district and my daughter was taken aback by how many rules there were," said the mom, whose name is being kept private to protect her identity. There are indeed a lot of rules at the girl's new school—four typed pages of them. The mom found this out after the
A mom recently went to her daughter's Maryland elementary school to ask why the kids aren't allowed to play tag at recess—or even to close their eyes.
"We'd recently transferred from another district and my daughter was taken aback by how many rules there were," said the mom, whose name is being kept private to protect her identity.
There are indeed a lot of rules at the girl's new school—four typed pages of them. The mom found this out after the school administrator handed her a copy of the "Montgomery County Public Schools Playground Supervision Recess Procedures for Playground Aides." It states, among other things:
Baseball and football games are not permitted at any time.
Haphazard running, chasing and tag games on the blacktop are not permitted.
A student may not begin to swing on rings and bars until the student ahead of him/her has finished.
Once they do swing or climb, they must use an "opposed thumb grip." (As opposed to their teeth?)
The rules also instruct playground aides to "caution children if it appears that emotions and excitement are mounting to a point where incorrect actions may soon result."
After the mom sent me the rules, I contacted the Montgomery County office in charge of recess safety. They did not respond.
"It really feels as though maybe we've lost touch with what's developmentally appropriate," the mom told me.
An administrator who met with the mom explained that the school's primary job is to keep children safe at all times. The mom disagrees; a school's primary job is to teach children and avoid interfering with their development.
Boston College Psychology Professor Peter Gray feels similarly.
"These rules demonstrate no trust at all of the children, nor even of the playground supervisors,"says Gray, a co-founder of my non-profit, Let Grow. "When we treat people as irresponsible, they become irresponsible."
The mom said she felt a bit sorry for the administrator, who had no say in these rules. (Just like the kids.) And she added that today's children really do seem a little rough when they play tag—probably because they've had so little practice at it.
I have heard this from other people who work with children, especially occupational therapist Angela Hanscom, who notes that when kids don't move enough, they fail to develop proprioception, the ability to know where their body is in space and how much force it needs to do something physical.
All the more reason to let kids start adjusting to each other in the easiest, most natural way possible: through play.
In his new book,The Anxious Generation, Jonathan Haidt recommends bringing more play into kids' lives by keeping Friday afternoons free so kids can play in the neighborhood. He also recommends that schools stay open before or after school for mixed-age free play in a no-phone zone: what we call a "Let Grow Play Club." (Haidt is another co-founder of Let Grow. Our Play Club materials are here, for free.)
Depriving kids of play in the name of safety is dangerous. Even more dangerous than two kids using the climbing rings at once.
One of the most persistent myths in K-12 education is the idea that high-poverty schools are near-universally, significantly underfunded. However, the truth is much more complicated. As it turns out, poor districts get more money in almost every state—and school spending has an incredibly weak relationship with school quality in the first place. This week, USA Today published another example of fearmongering, giving a Thursday article the inexpli
One of the most persistent myths in K-12 education is the idea that high-poverty schools are near-universally, significantly underfunded. However, the truth is much more complicated. As it turns out, poor districts get more money in almost every state—and school spending has an incredibly weak relationship with school quality in the first place.
This week, USA Today published another example of fearmongering, giving a Thursday article the inexplicable headline, "Enrichment only for the rich? How school segregation continues to divide students by income." However, the research the article presents doesn't exactly show the apocalyptic outcomes implied by the headline. In fact, the research it cites concluded that "poverty rates do not have a clear relationship" with local and state funding.
Reporter Alia Wong's article is filled with heartwrenching stories of schools with "regular lockdowns and the sound of gunfire in the lobby," where "classrooms lacked basic supplies and teachers didn't notice how often [a student] skipped class. Desks tended to be broken and textbooks decades old."
While these situations are tragic, the reality is a bit more complex. Not only is the funding gap between wealthier and poorer schools found by the researchers smaller than you might think—it disappeared when dividing schools based on their poverty rates. Further, other research shows that school funding, and thus the chaotic, neglectful state of many failing schools, has basically no relationship with school quality.
The study, from education think tank Bellwether, examined schools in 123 metropolitan areas and classified districts into lower, middle, and wealthy based on how much local income and property values differed from the average in their metro area. The researchers did this in order to study funding differences between schools in the same area—meaning that some districts in the lowest category (what they called Opportunity Outsiders) are not actually high-poverty schools.
In all, researchers found that wealthy districts received the most total funding in their metro area just 39 percent of the time. However, they did find a modest, but significant funding gap between wealthier and poorer schools. The median Opportunity Outsider school spent $14,287 per pupil, while the median wealthy school (called Economic Elite) spent $16,702.
However, this gap all but vanished when the researchers reclassified schools not based on relative wealth but on their actual poverty rates. The study concluded that "poverty rates do not have a clear relationship with the amount of state and local revenue that districts receive."
So do the schools poor kids actually go to receive less funding? Not according to this study. Only the schools that are among the poorest in their metro area—which includes plenty of schools in wealthy areas, where the relatively poorest school has only average poverty—that face a funding gap.
And that's only accounting for local and state funding. When you include federal funding, the situation becomes even better for high-poverty schools. According to research from the Urban Institute, when considering "federal, state, and local funding, almost all states allocate more per-student funding to poor kids than to nonpoor kids." Just three states, Nevada, Wyoming, and Illinois have a "weakly" regressive funding structure.
If so many states allocate more money to poor districts, why do low-income schools have worse results? As it turns out, per-pupil spending doesn't seem to impact school quality all that much. One 2012 report by Harvard and Stanford researchers, found that, on average, an extra "$1000 in per-pupil spending is associated with an annual gain in achievement of one-tenth of 1 percent of a standard deviation," an increase the researchers say is "of no statistical or substantive significance."
This isn't to say that funding doesn't matter at all. Rather, low-income school districts tend to spend their funding less responsibly.
"More money can help schools succeed, but not if they fritter those extra resources in unproductive ways," Jay Greene, a senior research fellow at the Heritage Foundation, toldReason last year. "There are many common ways that schools blow resources. Wasteful schools tend to hire more non-instructional staff while raising the pay and benefit costs for all staff regardless of their contribution to student outcomes."
Despite the headlines pointing to the contrary, high-poverty school districts aren't generally underfunded and funding gaps aren't responsible for lackluster academic performance. That's not to say we shouldn't be concerned when poorer schools receive lower funding, but rather that the issues in underperforming schools almost certainly won't be fixed by throwing more cash at the problem.
Modern public-education history is littered with novel education theories that have failed so spectacularly that the terms are now used as pejoratives. For instance, when I was in elementary school in the 1960s, the "New Math" focused on teaching abstractions rather than fundamentals. You can find reams of research documenting its failure decades later, but the evidence was recognized almost immediately. That then-new approach "ignored completely
Modern public-education history is littered with novel education theories that have failed so spectacularly that the terms are now used as pejoratives. For instance, when I was in elementary school in the 1960s, the "New Math" focused on teaching abstractions rather than fundamentals. You can find reams of research documenting its failure decades later, but the evidence was recognized almost immediately.
That then-new approach "ignored completely the fact that mathematics is a cumulative development and that it is practically impossible to learn the newer creations if one does not know the older ones," according to Morris Kline's 1973 "Common Core," a set of educational standards embraced by California and 39 other states in 2010. On hindsight, it also deserves a failing grade.
"Despite the theory's intuitive appeal, standards-based reform does not work very well in reality," read a 2021 Brookings Institution report. "The illusion of a coherent, well-coordinated system is gained at the expense of teachers' flexibility in tailoring instruction to serve their students." Don't get me started on some of the loopier ones: pass-fail grading, the replacement of phonics with whole-language learning, and Social Emotional Learning (SEL).
"Education in the United States has lurched from fad to fad for the better part of a century, finding ever-ingenious ways to underperform preceding generations," explained investigative reporter Joe Herring in a 2022 piece reviewing some of them. Apparently, there isn't enough productive employment for education PhDs, so they spend their time dreaming up big experiments to improve education rather than focusing on the obvious ones.
The process gains life as evidence pours in about the latest underperformance. And the latest data certainly is impressive, albeit in a depressing way. Following COVID-19 stay-at-home orders, traditional public schools (and California's in particular) couldn't rise to the occasion. Teachers' unions slowed re-openings. Test scores plummeted, especially for poor and minority students. Many students checked out permanently, as soaring chronic absentee rates prove.
Always eager to embrace easy-button solutions rather than, say, ideas that promote competitiveness and excellence, our school bureaucracies are on to some "innovative" ideas that have a ballpark-zero chance of improving educational outcomes. The new ones are based around the concept of equity. As with every education reform fad, they sound OK in the elevator pitch. Who doesn't support equity? But they will create a mess that further impedes student progress.
For instance, some Bay Area schools have approved "equity grading." It's strange to focus on grading rather than teaching, but the details are even stranger. The Mercury Newsreports that one district removed "the practice of awarding zero points for assignments as long as they were 'reasonably attempted.'" It also eliminated extra credit for class participation. EG offers students "multiple chances to make up missed or failed assignments and minimize homework's impact on a student's grade." Now it will be almost impossible to get an A or an F.
It brings to mind Garrison Keilor's Lake Wobegon, the fictional Minnesota town "where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking and all the children are above average." Parents rightly worry that the new grading system will promote slacking. Why work extra hard when you won't be able to get an A? Why try to improve when you won't get worse than a C? It will create a false sense of equity—and make it tougher for colleges to recognize the best students.
Education theorists and consultants who promote this nonsense claim that it will encourage students and teachers to focus entirely on the mastery of material rather than surrounding fluff. They say it will better prepare students for the work world. Yet a lot of that so-called fluff—class participation, completing homework, handing in assignments on time—contribute mightily to such mastery.
Regarding the work world, ask my editor what he thinks if I miss my deadlines and still expect a paycheck. "Supporters of mastery-based grading say it could promote equity," notes an Education Nextarticle. But will it improve learning and test scores? One needn't be a math whiz to know the answer.
State education officials also have jumped on the equity bandwagon. The California State Board of Education last year approved a new 1,000-page math framework that, as Education Weekreported, "aims to put meaning-making at the center of the math classroom" and "encourages teachers to make math culturally relevant and accessible for all students." The framework isn't binding on districts, but it will influence everything from textbooks to teaching standards.
I'm not sure how to make mathematical computations more meaningful and relevant, but I suppose someone will write a book about its failures in a few years. Meanwhile, many parents know what succeeds: competition. But providing additional schooling options would pressure school bureaucracies and jobs-protecting teachers' unions to improve, and to them that's not a tolerable outcome.
This column was first published in The Orange County Register.
When COVID-19 shuttered virtually everything in 2020 and forced public schools to begin distance learning, those schools responded with the agility one would expect from a decrepit battleship forced to make a quick change of course in the face of an unexpected enemy. In other words, the state's hulking K-12 system barely responded at all, even as small and nimble private and charter schools quickly adapted to the new reality. I remember news stor
When COVID-19 shuttered virtually everything in 2020 and forced public schools to begin distance learning, those schools responded with the agility one would expect from a decrepit battleship forced to make a quick change of course in the face of an unexpected enemy. In other words, the state's hulking K-12 system barely responded at all, even as small and nimble private and charter schools quickly adapted to the new reality.
I remember news stories about public schools unable to set up even the most basic Zoom classes, of teachers who had no idea what they were supposed to do—and then of unions and administrators resisting efforts to re-start classroom teaching even after the rest of society was getting back to normal. Instead of re-ordering procedures to help kids stay current on their schoolwork, the school establishment mainly whined about not having enough money.
Anyone who needs a reminder about why government bureaucracies are incapable of providing quality public services need only look at the resulting disaster. A Stanford University study found, "a substantial decline in student learning in both English language arts/literacy (ELA) and mathematics between the 2018–19 and 2021–22 academic years." Those are the general figures, but the results for poor and minority students were a travesty.
California's lowest-income students already fared second to last in the nation in 2018, before anyone had even heard of coronavirus. After the pandemic closures, the study found that only 16 percent of Black students met or exceeded state math standards—a number that was below 10 percent for English learners. And then there are the appalling truancy numbers: Nearly a third of the state's K-12 students were chronically absent during the ruckus.
We heard rumblings of a "parent revolt," which manifested itself in some high-profile school board elections. But, again, it's hard to turn around a giant ship—especially one that for years has been taking in water. In the private sector, unhappy customers take their business elsewhere. With government agencies, the process for making change is daunting. Booting bad school board members is a start, but there are so many obstacles to improving matters at the classroom level.
A recent settlement has been touted as a way to force the state to enact meaningful reforms that might improve achievement after several parents had filed a lawsuit against the state. "The change in the delivery of education left many already-underserved students functionally unable to attend school," they noted in their complaint. "The state continues to refuse to step up and meet its constitutional obligation to ensure basic educational equality or indeed any education at all."
The agreement earmarks $2 billion in remaining COVID funds to pay for tutoring, counseling, and after-school activities, CalMattersreported. I applaud the agreement, but have limited expectations. Mainly, as the publication noted, "the case has drawn attention to the magnitude of the learning loss during the pandemic." How much more drawing attention do we need? And more than 40 percent of the state budget goes to K-14 education, so a little more money won't institute the change we need.
I also take issue with CalMatter's description of the "herculean efforts by school staff to keep students engaged." I'm sure many teachers and administrators tried their best, but Herculessucceeded at completing his nearly impossible 12 labors—and most public schools failed to complete even the most elementary educational tasks.
Meanwhile, Gov. Gavin Newsom and the Democratic-dominated Legislature have been taking aim at one reform that has enabled many ill-served students get a quality education. At the behest of teachers' unions, they restricted the growth of charter schools. Empowered by the new laws, Los Angeles Unified School District this month "passed a sweeping policy that will limit when charters can operate on district-owned campuses," the Los Angeles Timesreported.
That above-mentioned Stanford study noted that dismal test scores "should sound a loudly screaming alarm: The task of transforming our schools can no longer be delayed." Yet warning sirens have been sounding for years and the public-school establishment continues in the wrong union-dictated direction.
The latest lawsuit echoes the Vergaradecision, a 2014 Los Angeles case that initially tossed teacher-employment protections including tenure. The court found that these firing restrictions leave "grossly ineffective teachers" in the classroom. The impact, which disproportionately harms lower-income students, "shocks the conscience," it added. Higher courts eventually overturned the ruling. The state didn't heed the alarm bells. They mainly energized teachers' unions, which feared the impact on their protected employment.
So here we are again. How much more evidence do we need? California's poorly served public school students need more than a few more dollars diverted to tutoring programs. We need to airlift them off a sinking ship and into competitive educational vessels. Quite frankly, with the money the state spends on education, every student could have a room on a luxury cruise liner.
This column was first published in The Orange County Register.
Before the start of the state legislative session in January, Arizona Gov. Katie Hobbs, a Democrat, proposed a plan to heavily regulate the state's universal education savings account (ESA) program. Her proposal aims to make private schools comply with some of the same standards adhered to by public schools, including requiring that private school teachers meet "minimum education requirements" before teaching ESA students and that private schools
Before the start of the state legislative session in January, Arizona Gov. Katie Hobbs, a Democrat, proposed a plan to heavily regulate the state's universal education savings account (ESA) program. Her proposal aims to make private schools comply with some of the same standards adhered to by public schools, including requiring that private school teachers meet "minimum education requirements" before teaching ESA students and that private schools provide special education students the same services they had received in public schools. Additionally, she wants to require that students attend public schools for 100 days before receiving an ESA and for the state to audit expenditures at choice-participating private schools.
Hobbs's plan is an attempt to stifle Arizona's booming ESA program and bureaucratize private schools into operating much like the public schools that ESA students already opted out of. It also comes on the heels of a failed attempt to repeal the state's ESA program last year. Like last year, the state's Republican-controlled legislature is unlikely to go along with her measures and already killed one of the bills sponsored by Hobbs allies before it made it to committee in February.
Hobbs will find it difficult to rein in school choice in Arizona—not just because so many families are benefiting from it, but students also made impressive academic improvements while choice expanded over the past two decades.
National and state level trends in student achievement, public school staffing, and education funding for all 50 states are detailed in Public Education at a Crossroads, a new study by the Reason Foundation (the nonprofit that publishes this magazine). Because of lags in when the federal data are published, the paper only covers trends prior to the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic.
In 2003–2019, Arizona students made substantial gains across the board on student achievement as measured by the National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP), better known as the Nation's Report Card. Across fourth- and eighth-grade NAEP scores for reading and math, Arizona ranks in the top ten in achievement growth when compared to other states, except for fourth-grade math scores for low-income students, where it ranks 14th. Fourth-grade scores for reading and math grew by 7 and 9 points, respectively. Eighth-grade scores on reading and math improved by 4 and 9 points.
The NAEP improvements are even more pronounced for low-income students. For Arizona students eligible for free and reduced-price lunches, fourth-grade reading and math scores grew by 8 and 9 points, respectively, and eighth-grade reading and math scores grew by 7 and 12 points.
Arizona also managed to improve student achievement while eschewing the conventional demands for more money and smaller class sizes in public schools. In 2002–2020, per-student revenues for public education only grew in inflation-adjusted terms from $10,353 to $10,790, a 4.2 percent increase that ranks the state 47th nationally in per-student revenue growth. Nor has the state prioritized reducing class sizes or adding support staff: Despite enrollment growth of 25 percent in 2002–2020, Arizona's public school staff only grew by 13.7 percent over the same timeframe. By comparison, public schools nationwide added staff at more than twice the rate of student enrollment growth.
Instead, Arizona spent the past few decades extending a breadth of education options to families. It was an early adopter of charter schools and public school open enrollment in 1994. The state also established the nation's first tax credit scholarship program in 1997 and the nation's first ESA program in 2011. Beginning in 2022, Arizona's ESA program, which was initially only available for students with disabilities, expanded to universal student eligibility and now serves over 75,000 students. Charter schools currently serve more than 20 percent of the state's public school population, a larger proportion than any other state.
Over this period, educational approaches that would be considered experimental in other states have matured and found comfortable niches in Arizona. Arizona Autism Charter Schools, currently with four campuses, specialize in serving kids with autism spectrum disorder and have been operating since 2013. Many of the state's other well-established charters have diverse instructional approaches including Montessori, STEM-focused, and classical education. There's even an environmental sustainability focused charter school for Navajo children in rural Arizona. Prenda, the popular microschool management platform, supports 149 private and charter-partnered microschools in Arizona. In Phoenix, the Black Mothers Forum adapted Prenda's model to better fit the needs of black families early in the pandemic.
To be sure, Arizona students don't fare as well in absolute NAEP rankings. For instance, the state's fourth-graders rank 44th and 36th nationally in overall reading and math scores. But it's hard to know the extent to which greater investments in public education would have led to better outcome growth in Arizona. Consider New York, which led the nation in per-student revenue growth in 2002–2020—increasing from $18,054 to $30,723, or 70.2 percent. Despite those massive funding increases, New York students made almost no NAEP gains over that period. In fact, Arizona's low-income students outscore New York's low-income students in fourth- and eighth-grade math.
The fact that students have gained academic ground in Arizona's choice-rich, fiscally conservative context cuts against Hobbs's attempt to hamper the state's ESA program. Parents in the Grand Canyon state have already proven themselves capable of holding schools accountable without her help.
Public schools have a mental health crisis and only thousands of new support staff can save them. That's the narrative being pushed nationwide at a time when enrollment has crashed by nearly 1.3 million students and $190 billion in federal K-12 COVID-19 relief aid is set to expire later this year. "It would take 77,000 more school counselors, 63,000 more school psychologists and probably tens of thousands of school social workers to reach levels
Public schools have a mental health crisis and only thousands of new support staff can save them. That's the narrative being pushed nationwide at a time when enrollment has crashed by nearly 1.3 million students and $190 billion in federal K-12 COVID-19 relief aid is set to expire later this year.
"It would take 77,000 more school counselors, 63,000 more school psychologists and probably tens of thousands of school social workers to reach levels recommended by professional groups before the pandemic hit," reportsThe Washington Post.
Now legislators in states such as Minnesota, New York, and Virginia are introducing bills aimed at getting schools closer to meeting the 250-to-1 student-to-counselor ratio recommended by the American School Counselor Association (ASCA). "We want our children to live in a state where they know they'll be able to access the mental health services they need," says Minnesota State Rep. Kaela Berg (D–Burnsville). According to ASCA, school counselor duties range from helping students manage emotions to planning for postsecondary options, but they don't help with long-term psychological disorders.
Public schools were slow to open during the pandemic and students' mental health deteriorated as a result. But even before COVID-19, schools were staffed at record levels, and policymakers have good reason to be skeptical of ASCA's guidance.
Between 2002 and 2020, public school staff grew by 13.2 percent nationwide while student enrollment increased by just 6.6%, according to a new report published by Reason Foundation. In many states—including New Hampshire, Illinois, and New York—public schools maintained or increased staffing levels despite large enrollment losses. For example, Connecticut lost 8.2 percent of its students but public school staff shot up by 14.1 percent.
But the bulk of new hires weren't teachers, which saw a 6.6-percent increase nationwide. Instead, non-teachers fueled the growth, increasing by 20 percent. For every five new students, about one non-teacher was added to public school payrolls. While a rise in central-office bureaucrats contributed to this trend, school-level personnel such as guidance counselors (up 19.5 percent), instructional aides (up 30.9 percent), and student support staff such as health and social services personnel (up 113.5 percent) were a significant driver.
One reason is that groups such as ASCA, National Association of School Psychologists (NASP), and National Association of Social Workers (NASW) all recommend staffing ratios that are used to sound alarm bells to state legislators about public school resources. While it's unclear how NASP (500-to-1) and NASW (250-to-1 or 50-to-1 for high-need schools) derived their ratios, ASCA's figure (250-to-1) doesn't hold up to the slightest amount of scrutiny.
According to ASCA, it stems from 1955 when researcher Kenneth B. Hoyt "concluded that school counselors should have no more than 400 pupils in their caseload." They adjusted Hoyt's ratio down to its current level in 1965 "as the role of the school counselor became clarified further."
But this figure was called out by a Harvard graduate student for having no empirical basis at all, despite being cited "in almost every piece that you read about school counselors." It turns out, Hoyt's original number was just a back-of-the-envelope calculation he did in a short column, which walks through some basic assumptions about what counseling might look like. At the end, Hoyt even warned against using his example to set policy:
This article has presented one person's point of view regarding the counseling load of the high school counselor. It is not represented as the answer for any particular school system nor as a generalized answer for any combination of the school system. We would not expect to find total agreement on the part of either experts or non-experts on all of the assumptions involved in the point of view presented here.
Notice that Hoyt's article was aimed at high school counselors specifically. This is important because ASCA's ratio lumps together school counselors at all levels (elementary, middle school, and high school). The national average reported by ASCA (385-to-1) exceeds its recommendation, but only because it's inflated by schools serving lower grade levels. When high schools are isolated, the national average falls to an estimated 232-to-1 ratio—well below ASCA's recommendation.
The real problem isn't that there aren't enough school counselors, but that many states already have laws on the books advancing ASCA's flawed recommendation. Then there's the question of mission creep and whether public schools should be delivering mental health services at all. Regardless, public schools have more staff than ever and with enrollment projected to continue declining for years to come, the last thing they need is 77,000 more counselors. Using a baseless metric to further this aim only undermines ASCA's credibility and those pushing their narrative.
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