Something wasn鈥檛 adding up in . Students were making strong gains in reading in kindergarten and first grade. They were developing foundational skills and, for the most part, reading accurately. But as students moved across second and third grades, growth became stagnant and the end-of-grade reading proficiency began to decline.

After taking a deep dive into the data, district leaders discovered that the challenge wasn鈥檛 necessarily whether students could read the words in front of them. In fact, many could. The concern was fluency and automaticity. Students weren鈥檛 reading at a pace and with the ease needed to devote their attention to understanding what they were reading.

For , Davidson County Schools鈥� director of elementary education and federal programs, the data pointed to a disconnect. The teachers had participated in training to deepen their understanding of how children learn to read, and the district had a core foundational curriculum with aligned support. But Davidson County did not have a comprehensive core reading program that pulled together vocabulary, syntax, knowledge building, fluency, and comprehension.

And the deeper they looked, the more the question shifted from: What are students missing, to what do teachers need to help students get there?

From knowing to doing

Davidson County educators had already invested considerable time in learning about the science of reading. Willard described LETRS as 鈥渟ome of the best professional learning鈥� she had experienced. Instructional coaches studied 鈥溾�� by Nancy Lewis Hennessy. Principals, assistant principals, and coaches examined research together. And most recently, more than 200 teachers were invited to learn from about the role knowledge plays in reading comprehension.

There were plenty of moments when educators could see the connections between what they were learning and what students needed. But seeing those connections was one thing. Translating them into daily instruction was another.

Without a comprehensive curriculum, teachers still had to find and evaluate quality texts, determine how those texts could build knowledge across a topic, plan explicit vocabulary and syntax instruction, incorporate comprehension routines, and connect it all to grade-level standards.

Amber Fitts, an early literacy specialist with the Department of Public Instruction鈥檚 , saw that challenge as she worked alongside instructional coaches. They were developing a deeper understanding of what effective comprehension instruction should include. The harder part was envisioning what all of it looked like when a teacher stood in front of students on Monday morning.

鈥淭here are wonderful things鈥� in LETRS, Fitts said. 鈥淲e know what to do, but teachers don鈥檛 always know how to make it happen in the classroom.鈥�

It wasn鈥檛 that teachers didn鈥檛 want to do the work. They needed a way to make all the pieces fit together.

The more Davidson County learned, the clearer the gap became. Educators were building the knowledge. What they needed was a way to turn that knowledge into practice, and the district had to decide how to help them do it.

What if we build it ourselves?

One option was to purchase a comprehensive core reading program. But for Davidson County, Willard estimated that could cost close to $1 million. District leaders also felt they didn鈥檛 have time to wait for someone else to solve the problem.

鈥淲e couldn鈥檛 wait on money to come for an adoption,鈥� Willard said. 鈥淲e had to do the work ourselves.鈥�

There was urgency behind that decision. Third grade reading proficiency had fallen below the state average, something Willard said was unheard of in a district accustomed to performing at or above the state average in its elementary subjects.

鈥淲e knew there was a disconnect,鈥� she said. 鈥淎nd we had to figure out where that disconnect was.鈥�

So, they did.

Willard approached Fitts with an idea: What if Davidson County Schools created their own knowledge-building units?

The goal wasn鈥檛 simply to create another collection of lessons. They wanted something that could bring together what teachers had learned through LETRS with vocabulary, syntax, fluency, comprehension, and knowledge building, while also giving teachers the texts and instructional structure to make all of it manageable in the classroom. And if teachers were going to be expected to use the units, Willard believed teachers needed to help build them.

The district invited educators to apply for a design team and began with third grade, where the data suggested the need was greatest. Teachers worked through the summer and continued throughout the school year, creating units designed, as Willard described them, 鈥渇or teachers by teachers.鈥�

The team also made an intentional decision to connect the units to science and social studies standards, two subjects that can get squeezed out of the elementary school day when time is limited. Yet those subjects offer something essential to literacy development: opportunities for students to build the background knowledge they need to understand increasingly complex texts. Instead of asking teachers to choose between literacy and content, the team began looking for ways to build both at the same time.

Changing more than the curriculum

Creating the units was one thing. Using them required teachers to rethink some familiar approaches to reading instruction.

A teacher might traditionally spend time teaching main idea with one text, pull another text for more practice, and then move on to the next standard. The new units asked teachers and students to stay with texts longer. Students reread. They examined vocabulary and sentence structure. They built knowledge around a topic. And they encountered multiple reading standards within the same text rather than approaching comprehension as a series of isolated skills.

For Willard, that shift was particularly important because fluency had been part of what the district saw in its third grade data. Students didn鈥檛 necessarily need an endless supply of new passages. They needed opportunities to go deeper into the text already in front of them.

The texts themselves presented another shift. They were intentionally more challenging to stretch learning growth.

The team considered both quantitative and qualitative measures of text complexity, sometimes selecting texts with Lexile measures one or two grade levels above third grade. The expectation wasn鈥檛 that every child should be able to pick up those texts and read them independently. Teachers would provide the scaffolding, particularly early in the year, so students could engage with complex ideas and language while continuing to receive foundational reading instruction based on their individual needs during another part of the school day. Still, teachers noticed.

鈥淭his text, it鈥檚 too hard,鈥� Willard remembers hearing repeatedly during the first quarter.

For veteran third grade teacher Jill Hunt, the adjustment wasn鈥檛 only about the texts. After years in the classroom, she had accumulated favorite books, lessons, and activities. Now she was being asked to use lessons that were much more scripted than what she was accustomed to. There was some hesitation. But there was also a willingness to give it a try and to do it well.

Repeated reading began giving students another way into difficult text. A child who couldn鈥檛 initially read a grade-level passage independently could listen to it, discuss it, build knowledge around it, encounter its vocabulary, and then return to it again. After several readings, that same student might begin reading portions with a partner or more independently.

The text hadn鈥檛 gotten easier. The students鈥� access to it had changed.

Teacher perspectives and practices were changing, too. Rather than introducing multiple instructional strategies in quick succession, the units purposefully slowed the process down.

Teachers might concentrate on sentence parsing throughout one quarter before moving to sentence anagrams during the next. That repetition gave teachers time to become comfortable with a practice and students time to internalize the routine.

Instructional coach Tina Hampton saw that shift among teachers who had completed LETRS. Initially, she heard comments like, 鈥淚 already do this.鈥� But as teachers began using the units, they started to see the difference between incorporating a practice and going deeply enough with it to change what students could do.

Leveling the playing field for teachers, too

As the units moved into classrooms, Davidson County began seeing another effect it hadn鈥檛 necessarily set out to create. Teacher experience across the district varied considerably. Some classrooms were led by veteran teachers like Hunt, who had taught third grade for years. Others were led by beginning teachers, teachers new to the grade level, or educators entering classrooms through alternative licensure pathways. That variation mattered.

A veteran teacher might have years of instructional knowledge and materials to draw upon. A teacher hired in October who had never taught a tested grade might be trying to figure out what strong comprehension instruction looked like while simultaneously learning how to run a classroom. The units provided both teachers with a common foundation.

At , Principal could walk from one third grade classroom into another and recognize the same explicit vocabulary routines and instructional structures. The teachers weren鈥檛 identical. Their experience wasn鈥檛 identical. But students were encountering common language, routines, and expectations. Beasley saw that as a way to create more equitable instruction for students.

Willard began seeing something else in it, too.

鈥淲e talk about leveling the playing field for kids,鈥� she said, 鈥渂ut we forget teachers.鈥�

For newer teachers, the detailed lessons could serve as a scaffold. One newly hired third grade teacher used the units almost as a script, Willard recalled, and the instructional results surprised her. Veteran teachers didn鈥檛 always need the same level of support. But they, too, had access to the common routines, texts, and instructional expectations.

The district had started by trying to address a student learning problem. Along the way, it was also confronting a systems question: How do you make strong instruction less dependent on the experience level of the individual teacher?

Building the plane while flying it

Davidson County Schools didn鈥檛 have a polished curriculum waiting at the end of the process. The district was creating the units while teachers were using them. Willard and Fitts continuously reminded stakeholders that they were 鈥渂uilding the plane as they were flying it.鈥�

Each quarter, teachers used the materials and provided feedback. The design team listened, revised, and released the next round.

At the end of the school year, teachers were asked to look back across the entire experience and provide feedback again. The team reconvened during the summer and made more changes.

That feedback loop became important to teacher buy-in. Teachers weren鈥檛 simply asked what they thought. They could see their feedback reflected in what came next.

School leaders were part of the process, too. Willard had been clear from the beginning that the third grade units weren鈥檛 optional. The data, she believed, showed that the district could not continue doing what it had always done and expect a different result. But a mandate alone wasn鈥檛 going to change classroom practice.

Principals spent time examining the data and understanding why the district was making the shift. They carried that understanding back into their schools, into PLCs (professional learning communities), classroom observations, and conversations with teachers.

And then something began happening that the district hadn鈥檛 mandated. Fourth grade teachers started asking for the units.

鈥淲hy can鈥檛 we have something like that?鈥� Willard remembers them asking.

The work began expanding into fourth grade. At Davis-Townsend, fifth grade teachers wanted in, too.

What had started as a required response to a third grade reading problem was beginning to spread because teachers were asking to be part of it.

And within one year, third grade reading proficiency increased 10 percentage points.

鈥淲e are proud of the progress our third grade students have made,鈥� Willard said. 鈥淭his growth reflects the hard work of our students, the dedication of our teachers, and the continued support of our families.鈥�

But she was quick to add that the gains are not the finish line.

鈥淲hile we are pleased with these gains, we know our work is not done,鈥� Willard said. 鈥淲e remain committed to strengthening literacy instruction through expanding our ELA Knowledge Building Units into other grade levels, providing targeted support, and ensuring that every student develops the reading skills and knowledge needed for continued success.鈥�

Davidson County School鈥檚 story started with declining third grade reading scores. But somewhere along the way, the problem the district was trying to solve became bigger than a test score.

North Carolina has invested heavily in helping teachers understand the science of reading. This district鈥檚 experience raises the question of what comes next: What does it take to move that knowledge from professional learning into daily classroom practice consistently, across teachers, classrooms, and schools?

Davidson County School leaders didn鈥檛 answer that question with another training or wait for a finished solution. They started with the data and brought teachers into the work. They tried something, listened, changed it, and tried again. The plane is still being built. But now, more teachers are asking to get on.

This first appeared on and is republished here under a .

More than 139,000 students ages 10 to 13 from all backgrounds and 3,100 educators from 126 cities in 39 countries have connected via e-classrooms over the past decade. 

I am one of them.

Participating in a global digital exchange program helped foster a deep curiosity about the world and made me realize that it is a bigger, more connected place. It inspired me to serve on the University of Hawai驶i Board of Regents and to seek out programs and opportunities like the , which centers intergenerational collaboration to move toward a sustainable future. I have kept chasing that same feeling of being genuinely changed by someone else’s reality.

As a student at the University of Hawai驶i at M膩noa, I think often about what education is actually for and what it represents. Right now, everywhere I turn, the conversation seems singularly focused on one question: 鈥淲hat do we do about artificial intelligence?鈥� The debates around artificial intelligence in education usually center on whether students are using AI to cheat or as a learning resource. Questions like: Can students use AI on assignments? Will AI replace teachers? How do we design curriculum for a post-ChatGPT world? 

These are real concerns, but in our urgency to respond, we’re neglecting something equally important that AI can’t replicate: human connection. 

Being able to talk with a student across the ocean whose daily life looked nothing like mine, or hearing another student鈥檚 perspectives on climate and the future, created a human connection that AI could never replicate. That connection required me to listen, to challenge my beliefs and to update my thinking in real time 鈥� not because I鈥檓 asking a chatbot, but because a real person is trusting me with their experience. 

I was reminded how valuable this last April when I flew to Madrid to meet Global Scholars alumni from around the world. Seeing everyone in person was a completely different experience from interacting online. Shaking hands, sharing meals and being vulnerable with one another face-to-face strengthened the cross-cultural bonds we started building online. 

AI can expose you to diverse viewpoints. It can summarize them, translate them and even argue them. However, it cannot make you feel empathy for someone else’s world or help you grasp its weight. It cannot hold you accountable to another person across a cultural divide. It cannot recreate a substantive discussion about solutions to urgent global problems.

I remember my first live conference call 12 time zones away, with middle school students in Barcelona. I told them about drought concerns on Kawaihae, where it used to be green. And they told me about water restrictions in Catalonia, a place I’d never heard of. 鈥滵o you really live near volcanoes?鈥� someone asked me. I almost laughed, until I realized how little we actually knew about each other’s worlds. A kid from a small town on Hawai驶i Island had just as much to contribute to the conversation as a student in one of Europe’s great cities. 

In Hawai驶i, human connection is embedded in our culture, in the concept of aloha, in the practice of showing up for your community. We understand that relationships are not just a part of learning; they are the learning itself. Developing cross-cultural empathy comes from building strong relationships and having meaningful conversations that challenge your own beliefs.

I sometimes think about that classmate in Barcelona and whether she remembers the eighth-grader from Hawai驶i who thought volcanoes were just part of the backyard. I hope more kids get the opportunity to be surprised by each other in ways no algorithm or AI chatbot can replicate. We should be building more of those connections. Not less.

Was this problem unique to that particular college? Or perhaps to California?

In with The Collaborative for Student Success, I set out this summer to understand how these issues were playing out at Rutgers-New Brunswick, the flagship public university in New Jersey. Like UC San Diego, Rutgers is a well-regarded academic institution and a in good standing of the Association of American Universities. While we were not able to gather the same level of information that the San Diego faculty senate had access to, we found similar problems.

Rutgers, like colleges in much of the country, is dealing with a bifurcation of student math skills. Some students are doing just fine, which at Rutgers manifests in a slight increase in the share of incoming freshmen who test into higher math classes like calculus II or III. Those students are well-prepared and likely to succeed.

But the bottom end is more troubling, as Rutgers also has an increasing number of freshmen taking lower-level classes like elementary or intermediate algebra and precalculus. Collectively, about 2,500 students were placed in courses below calculus last year.

Officially, New Jersey requires students to pass algebra, geometry and at least one more math class to earn a high school diploma. Yet even as state officials a record-high 91.8% graduation rate, 40% of this year鈥檚 graduates to pass the state鈥檚 high school math exam last year. Again, this is not unique to New Jersey; most states have large gaps between graduation and math proficiency rates.

In the report, I show how New Jersey has spent the last decade lowering K-12 standards, and how those decisions are affecting students and faculty at Rutgers. For example, New Jersey has created alternative ways for students to satisfy its graduation requirements, including substitute exams with passing scores below the benchmarks for college readiness on admissions tests. A student can satisfy New Jersey’s math graduation requirement with a 17 on the ACT, for example, even though ACT sets college readiness at a 22.

That can lead to a rude awakening for some students. Rutgers math professor Steve Safran told me that on the first day of his accelerated precalculus course, a majority of students said they had taken precalculus or calculus in high school. Many had earned As and Bs, and were dismayed at being asked to study the same material again. Another Rutgers instructor told me that some students arrive unable to add fractions without a calculator and become lost as soon as a problem introduces a variable.

Those gaps have consequences. Students may have to spend additional semesters working through prerequisites before reaching the courses required for their majors. Some switch majors or drop out. The grittier ones persist, but it takes them more time, and money, to earn their degree.

And the effects don’t stop there. One longtime instructor told me that if she gave today’s freshmen the exam she used in the past, a large number would fail. That puts faculty in the difficult position of helping students catch up while resisting pressure to lower their own standards.

Some of this disconnect could have been addressed much earlier if students had been held to higher standards throughout their time in K-12 schools. Math is a cumulative subject, and students who haven鈥檛 mastered their times tables are likely to struggle with fractions. If they are shaky on fractions and decimals, they鈥檙e likely to have a hard time with algebra. As I write in the report, early math performance isn’t destiny, but researchers have called it “” that calls for immediate support rather than a wait-and-see approach.

Policymakers could also help by getting test results back to parents and educators quickly, rather than making them endure months-long waits. As one told NJ Spotlight News in response to the state鈥檚 testing delays, 鈥淚t鈥檚 like we have an eye patch over one eye flying a plane 鈥� we don鈥檛 have full 20/20 vision or the full picture.鈥�

New Jersey policymakers can start by giving families an honest accounting of where their children stand. States like Virginia and Ohio to speed up their testing processes. While Ohio now requires districts to share results with parents by June 30 and Virginia says parents must wait no more than 45 days, New Jersey typically makes families wait until October.

But faster test results are useful only if the state is willing to act on what they show. The students arriving at Rutgers did not suddenly become bad at math when they stepped onto a college campus. Many had struggled for years. The failure was that too few adults gave them an honest evaluation of their math skills early enough and clearly enough for them to realize they were behind.

That鈥檚 the larger lesson from Rutgers and UC San Diego. By lowering standards, policymakers have boosted graduation rates. But if math gaps aren鈥檛 addressed early, catching up is harder and costlier, and students pay the price.

A new five-part documentary, , trains its lens on those fights as a way to understand the broader forces pulling American communities apart.

Co-directed by and , the series zeroes in on the many battles surrounding the Central Bucks School District and its tumultuous board. May and producer began talking in late 2021 about making a film on the nation’s political fracturing, determined to avoid taking sides or 鈥減reaching to the choir,鈥� said May. They searched an ordinary-seeming place that illustrated the divide and found it in Bucks County, Pa. 鈥淲e thought that perhaps the school board wars and the school board campaign itself could be the underbelly motor of how we tell the story,鈥� he said. The film soon grew into a five-part series that was screened this week for locals and premieres nationally on Sept. 20 on .

Filmed over four years, it follows more than a dozen key players who live out political polarization in real life. Foremost among them: two best friends, Vanessa Martino and Evi Casey, who are 14 when filming begins. Their parents hold bitterly opposing political views 鈥� actually, Vanessa鈥檚 father, , is a Republican activist and businessman who in 2023 bankrolls a slate of GOP school board candidates that includes his wife, Aarthi.

Yet the girls鈥� friendship seems bulletproof 鈥� it鈥檚 often the only safe space in the entire series 鈥� offering a different perspective that helps explore how community-level political conflict affects families and friendships.

The series frames Bucks County, a prosperous area north of Philly, as a kind of political bellwether 鈥� one documentary subject calls it 鈥渁 purple county in a purple state.鈥� The filmmakers say they want to offer an impartial community portrait that goes beyond politics, even in a deeply divided community.

Located in a key swing state, the district seems a perfect place to explore polarization. In 2022, the U.S. Department of Education Office for Civil Rights the district after the ACLU of Pennsylvania complained that it had created a 鈥渉ostile鈥� learning environment for LGBTQ students. In 2023, a middle school teacher sued the district, alleging he was suspended and involuntarily transferred to a different school in retaliation for advocating on behalf of LGBTQ+ students.听

The same year, members of the board reportedly tried to to a conservative Christian law firm that reviewed a proposed library book review policy. It鈥檚 the legal arm of the statewide branch of the national organization , an anti-LGBTQ group. The book ban took effect in early 2023, but was later .

The series centers largely around the 2023 school board race, which becomes a referendum on the public鈥檚 ability to endure more confrontation and chaos. But the results don鈥檛 necessarily calm the chaos, and community members most often find that the best way to broker compromise is through small-group and one-on-one conversations.

The series producers are hoping Bucks County, USA can help extend those conversations throughout the nation: The public TV station WETA is distributing discussion guides for the series that will allow communities to create their own viewing events and roundtables. It鈥檒l also provide lesson plans for schools. 

鈥淭he idea here is take what we’ve done, let this be the beginning, and try to duplicate it in your own community,鈥� said co-director Robert May. 鈥淯se the series to turn your thinking in a little bit of a different direction, and less worry about what’s happening on the national front. Let’s first worry about the strengths of our communities and bridge that divide that’s been so deep. And once we have communities stronger, I think we can be stronger across the country, frankly, as a nation.鈥� 

Ahead of the series premier, May sat down with 社区黑料鈥檚 Greg Toppo for a wide-ranging conversation about political polarization, the perils of social media and how the series could help change the conversation around our deep divisions. 

Their conversation is edited for length and clarity.

I wanted to start with something Lela Casey, Evi’s mom, says early on about her home: “We’re a purple county in a purple state. We’re kind of divided between Republicans and Democrats, so we’re not peaceful. We’re always going to have some challenge.” As I was watching this documentary, I kept thinking of that line from Casablanca: “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in the world, she walks into mine.” 

Robert May: [Laughs] 

Of all the towns in America in 2022, why Bucks County? Is it that purpleness, that challenge? Something else? What attracted you to this place?

My producing partner, Jason Sosnoff, who also is Barry Levinson’s producing partner 鈥� we all were talking about wanting to do a project about the polarization and division in the country. We actually started talking in late 2021, and we wanted to put together something that would be non-biased, where we could talk to each side and just hear their points of view because no one was listening to anyone. Everyone was just spewing, and we wanted this to be different. 

I like to think we don’t take a side. We’re not those sorts of filmmakers where we’re shoving something in, preaching to the choir. We didn’t want to do that. We thought we would go to one place in the country that is viewed as an idyllic place to be, low-key but sort of a microcosm of the political division. Then we heard The New York Times鈥檚 about school board wars in Bucks County, and that gave us an idea in two ways: First we thought that when you’re telling a story like ours, about political division, if it’s just about political division, it could be anything. But we wanted to know what the air, the narrative skeleton would be like. What would the motor be for telling that story? And we thought that perhaps the school board wars and the school board campaign itself could be the underbelly motor of how we tell the story, so that everything would surround that. We thought that a lot of the national discussion was coming right into the school board rooms, and that that might be interesting.

Who is this documentary for? What’s the audience, and how are you hoping to change their minds?

We’re all angry right now 鈥� whether you’re on the right or you’re the left, we’re angry. And what do we do about it? How do we talk about politics? Well first, if the film can demonstrate that people from opposite sides can come together and talk and still not necessarily agree 鈥� there’s no rosy ending, it’s not all wrapped up in a bow by any means 鈥� but there’s a level of respect that wasn’t there in the beginning. And I believe that the strength in our communities and our country can be improved by people seeing, “Oh, well, if they can do it, I could do it. I could reach out to a family member that I haven’t talked to in God knows how long. I can reach out to a neighbor that I haven’t spoken with. I can reach out to somebody that I never spoke with, but I thought they were from the other side, so I never wanted to speak to them.” And maybe they can actually find some comfort and joy and pride and be able to say, “I did that. I can talk to someone, I can listen generously, I can share my point of view, and I can replicate what they say, so they know I heard them.” 

Your idea of listening respectfully really comes across very powerfully. I love what retired teacher Kitty Semisch says early on: “Both sides have to stop reading about each other, and engage with each other.” It made me think about how an uncredited character in this documentary is social media 鈥�

Oh yes.

鈥� and what a corrosive role it has. There must have been a lot of conversations about that that didn’t actually make it into the film. Can you talk a little bit about how you handled that?

When we first started structuring the film, it was only going to be adults. We were going to talk to adults, and then when we realized, well, they go to the school boards and they’re all arguing over their children, and they all are saying sort of the same thing: They are concerned about the education of their children, the safety of their children, their children getting educated in a way that they will have a prosperous life. They all want that. But they were coming at it from different directions, and they were bringing all the national issues right into the school board meeting.

When they would leave the meeting, they would jump on social media and attack each other. Some people would come to the meetings and attack. Some people would just do it on social media. Some people would do it both ways, and no one could let it go. By the way, the kids are watching all of this, which is why we wanted to start talking with students 鈥� which is why there was that student roundtable. It’s how we got to Evi and Vanessa, who were best friends with different political views, and their parents really don’t like each other. Their parents were going after each other right and left. 

In fact, in the broadcast version of this, some of the social media is blurred. We’re doing a pre-release screening in Bucks County [on Sept. 15], and we’re playing it back for the whole community, and that will be the uncensored version. But the blurs will say a lot even in the broadcast version, because you’ll see what’s not there. And it’s astonishing what people were saying about one another. We saw that social media was another character, as you put it, then we had to determine, 鈥淲ell, how are we going to present that?鈥� because there are many ways to do it. So we did it in two ways. We had the icon of every person, what they say, and then the scatter text is [social media] conversation from the community. The scatter text was the community’s craziness: This is what everybody’s saying and the actual social media attacks then were handled as they were back and forth, back and forth.

I wanted to talk about Vanessa and Evi. To me, one of the most powerful moments was near the end when Vanessa, who really hasn’t said a whole lot of substance until now, is talking about politics. She says, “I kind of hate it. It makes me feel depressed.” I thought that was really moving, considering that her parents are these movers and shakers who bankroll a lot of what happens in the community. I mean, she seems to speak for all of us, honestly.

Yes, she does.

What did you think of that moment?

I feel so lucky 鈥� we all do 鈥� that we were able to spend four years with those two girls, and really everyone that’s in the series. But the adults were all adults. They’re who they are. They were already grown up. But to spend so much time with Evi and Vanessa and the other students as well was remarkable 鈥� because we saw them grow before our eyes. We saw them become more articulate. Vanessa is a self-proclaimed introvert, and Evi is a self-proclaimed extrovert. It shows how two opposites can get along, and so over the course of time, Vanessa became much more open. As a matter of fact, her parents have said she’s just become a blossomed person as a result of participating in the project because she has gained confidence, and because we all had such respect for her. So seeing her grow like that and share what her concerns were and what her thoughts were was remarkable.

To me, what she said about being depressed by politics just felt like a rebuke of everything the adults were at each other’s throats about. And I think it took a lot of bravery for her to say that. 

I completely agree. She’s someone that observes. She’s a good listener too. That’s her reaction to everything she’s seen. There’s this whole piece: The kids are watching, so be careful. What will your story be, adults? Because kids are watching you.

And there was another moment too with Vanna deArmond, the third-grade teacher. I remember listening to her talk very near the beginning, and it was very clear to me that she was just reacting to a lot of trauma in her life. And I thought, “O.K., why are you visiting this on everybody?” Then at the very end, she basically says, “Listen, I gotta admit: I had a lot of trauma, and it affected what I said and what I did.” I thought that was another powerful moment. 

Vanna, in the community, was viewed as this right-winger who had no regard for anybody else. But the thing is, back to your first question, is that when you see someone like Vanna, be careful of the judgment you make because you don’t know what their life was like. When Vanna allows us to go there with what her life was like, we have a better understanding for her as an adult today. 

And the thing is: Look, we all have some level of dysfunction within our families, within us. We’ve all had traumas of some sort, and I feel like when we say we haven’t and we can’t give grace for anyone who has, then we’re lacking something society really needs, especially right now. One of the things that we’re trying to encourage people to do is to watch the entire series before making judgments, because there’s a buildup of all of these little pieces that will come together in the end for thoughtful consideration. And that’s one of them.

Tulsa, Oklahoma

With her long, wavy hair pulled back in a ponytail, the young mom sat alone outside courtroom 6 at the Tulsa County Family Center for Juvenile Justic, checking her phone and anxiously waiting for a court official to call her name for an eviction hearing.

鈥淚鈥檝e never been through this,鈥� Courtney said in early May. Her two kids, ages 5 and 6, were staying with her mother out of town while she tried to catch up on rent or find another place to live. It was the best for the children, she said, but 鈥渢hey want to be with me.鈥�

Between losing one job and starting another, she feared she鈥檇 still come up short of the  $1,004 she owed.

She didn鈥檛 have much time.

In Oklahoma, the eviction process moves faster than the ability of most renters to respond. State law gives tenants five days to pay their debt or move out. A tenant has to appear in court just three days after a summons arrives. 

Tulsa has one of the worst eviction rates in the country 鈥� the as of a decade ago. Since then, the rate has grown from 8% to . Last school year, landlords filed evictions affecting more than 600 children in the state鈥檚 largest district, the Tulsa Public Schools. 

Her kids鈥� schools, Courtney said, didn鈥檛 ask why she withdrew them with a month left in the school year.

That鈥檚 hardly surprising, experts say.

鈥淸Parents are] looking for, 鈥楬ow do I find a place where my kids are going to sleep?鈥� 鈥� said Eric Hallett, a staff attorney at Legal Aid Services of Oklahoma. 鈥淭hey’re not thinking 鈥榃hat can a lawyer do for me?’ or even 鈥榃hat can Tulsa Public Schools do for me?鈥� 鈥�

But in a state with one of the in the nation, that鈥檚 something the district is trying to change. Since 2020, leaders have worked with ImpactTulsa, a nonprofit, to prevent disruption in kids鈥� education and quickly direct parents under threat of eviction to resources like legal aid and rental assistance. When a student鈥檚 address appears in an eviction filing, the parent receives an email from the district offering help.

The alert is a promising example of schools being 鈥渇irst responders鈥� in a housing emergency, said Barbara Duffield, executive director of SchoolHouse Connection, a national advocacy organization focused on students experiencing homelessness. Tulsa鈥檚 system has caught the attention of organizations doing similar work from Dallas to Dayton, Ohio. But the resources available to families fall far short of the demand, and the threat of eviction itself can be so traumatic that parents are often too overwhelmed to respond.

鈥淭here is a culture of defeat,鈥� said Ana Barros, the director of collaboration and partnerships for ImpactTulsa. If the eviction seems like a 鈥渄one deal, why would I reach out for help?鈥� 

Roughly nationally are caught up in evictions each year, with households headed by single Black mothers . Housing instability lands the heaviest on families with young from a Stanford University survey shows that nearly 30% of parents with children under 6 were worried about being evicted in the next month and 8% had already received an eviction notice. A federal program provides homeless students with educational and transportation services. But families who are evicted don鈥檛 immediately qualify for the same support, and the damage to students鈥� learning is clear.

“The gaps in children’s education are huge,” said Emily Turner, an attorney who is part of ImpactTulsa鈥檚 eviction prevention team. Missing days and weeks of school because of an eviction raises concerns about kids鈥� safety, she said, and the more they miss, the harder it is to come back. 鈥淭hey feel behind or they feel scared or they feel like this isn’t my space anymore.”

In the Oklahoma City schools, 65% of students whose families received were chronically absent, almost as many as those who were actually evicted, according to , part of Mental Health Association Oklahoma. On state assessments, students with an eviction notice or judgment had 25% lower proficiency rates in math compared to their peers. In reading, the academic impact was more than twice as much 鈥� 56% lower. 

鈥淲e have slipped to the bottom in education rankings,鈥� said state Rep. Amanda Clinton, a Democrat who this year to give tenants facing eviction access to free mediation before a judge heard their case. The bill passed the House, but died in the Senate. She agrees with Republicans that the state should focus on turning around its dismal performance in . 鈥淏ut we cannot be serious about improving student outcomes unless we get serious about keeping kids in the classroom to start with.鈥�

At Kerr Elementary, on the east side of Tulsa, Principal Jennifer Thomas sees the academic impact of evictions every morning. Students with unstable housing are frequently absent, and when they do come to school, they often arrive at least an hour late and hungry. 

鈥淲e have students who have been at four different schools within a month,鈥� she said. As with Courtney鈥檚 kids, Thomas said it鈥檚 not unusual for grandparents to provide backup, but that adds to the learning disruption. 鈥淕randma doesn’t know where the school is, or Grandma’s not used to having to get the kids up at 7:30.鈥� 

Lawmakers took up the issue last year and worked to pass a bipartisan bill that would have given tenants a few more days to show up in court 鈥� a rare development in such a deep red state. But Gov. Kevin Stitt, a Republican, . With a background in , including rental homes in Florida, he argued that the extension would be too 鈥渂urdensome鈥� for landlords. This year, a died in committee. 

鈥淭his is a very, very landlord-friendly state,鈥� said Delia Kimbrel, the director of research and policy at ImpactTulsa. 鈥淭he scales are really stacked up against the family.鈥�

鈥楬uman realities鈥�

landlords are the most likely to evict, . Those include Vesta Realty, which owned Barcelona Apartments, the Spanish-style complex at a busy intersection in southeast Tulsa that filed the case against Courtney.

Hannah Remick, a former administrative assistant for the company, who herself from one of its 40 complexes, estimates that Vesta filed about 25 evictions a week. Whether tenants have kids doesn鈥檛 make landlords any less likely to force them out, she said.

鈥淭hey would just say 鈥榰nits.鈥� They wouldn’t think about who is living in that unit,鈥� she said. The process, she said, is 鈥渧ery separated from the human realities of what’s going on there.鈥�

When ImpactTulsa identified management companies evicting families with school-aged kids, some of the affected properties had and code violations that had gone for months. In 2024, one mom of a kindergartner told reporters she was to the media about a lack of hot water and cockroaches in her apartment. 

Poor living conditions for renters are not unique to Tulsa. A showed that 13% of renters moved in the past two years because their home needed repairs. Five percent said they were either evicted or trying to avoid eviction.

Remick described as 鈥渙ne of the worst,鈥� with workers instructed to layer coats of Kilz primer over walls with mold. Courtney told 社区黑料 she had six work orders pending, including one for a leaky water heater, when she was evicted. Because an eviction can prevent a tenant from getting another lease and affect future employment, she asked 社区黑料 not to use her last name. 

The company鈥檚 financial condition was likely one reason for the backlog of repairs. Vesta鈥檚 owner, Marc Kulick, is facing . In February, Fannie Mae, the mortgage lender, against the company, and in July, as a result of litigation, a , YSA Investments, took ownership of multiple Vesta properties, including Barcelona. Vesta was also among the Tulsa landlords that fell months behind on .

鈥淲e all got letters on our doors saying they were going to charge for water,鈥� Courtney said, even though that cost is supposed to be part of the rent. 

According to a city official, the company caught up with water bills, and Vesta issued a statement saying that because of a pending 鈥渙wnership dispute,鈥� all questions about conditions, staffing or maintenance at Barcelona should go to the current operator. 

YSA spokesman Parker Detweiler said his company is 鈥渄oing everything humanly possible within the law to get living conditions where they should be.鈥�

Sherri Daley, executive director of the Tulsa Apartment Association, said while it鈥檚 important to address the 鈥渦nderlying causes of housing instability,鈥� landlords have to worry about their bottom line.

鈥淧roperty owners and managers typically focus on the lease obligations, payment history, and compliance with the rental agreement rather than whether a household includes school-aged children,鈥� she said. One of the arguments against extending the eviction timeline was that it would hurt small, independent landlords. 鈥淓ven one missed payment can create a ripple effect, leading to deferred maintenance and other financial pressures for the owner.鈥�

Tenants falling behind on rent can sometimes avoid an eviction if they communicate with their landlords, said Amy Coldren, who launched Shelterwell in Oklahoma City in 2023.  As part of its eviction prevention work, the organization provides nonprofits and schools with a free, tenant education program called . It covers topics like how to understand a lease and manage a budget.

Coldren said one of the first women she met after starting Shelterwell was facing eviction because her children, who had previously been in foster care, were considered unauthorized occupants.

鈥淚鈥檓 a former foster parent, so I know the work that she did to get her children back,鈥� she said. 鈥淎 simple solution would have been for her to have a conversation with her landlord and put her kids on the lease.鈥�

鈥楢 sensitive manner鈥�

ImpactTulsa鈥檚 work began with a disturbing realization.

Property owners  are also concentrated in the same neighborhoods as schools with the highest . That鈥檚 what the organization found when it began scraping the eviction court docket six years ago for addresses that match those of district students.

Between 2020 and 2023, Kimbrel identified eviction filings affecting roughly 4,400 Tulsa students. The disruption wasn鈥檛 brief. A year after a district family鈥檚 eviction showed up on their radar, nearly three-fourths of those students were still chronically absent. 

鈥淭hat just slapped everybody in the face,鈥� she said. 

But even the most sophisticated of district data systems can鈥檛 stop families from being displaced. The district鈥檚 homeless education staff last school year emailed all 621 families identified through the alert system, said BreAnna Shine, director of student engagement. Less than 100 ultimately received support through the district. Most didn鈥檛 respond. They might have landed somewhere else, ignored the message or resolved the issue with their landlord.

The other half of the system is a resource hub in one of the district鈥檚 most heavily impacted clusters of schools, East Central. The schools on that side of town draw from apartments like Eastgate, which filed eviction notices during that 2020-23 period affecting 47 students at Cooper Elementary and 26 students at East Central High School, Kimbrel鈥檚 analysis showed.

The hub at East Central Middle is two offices near the front entrance where Angeles Gonzalez, a family 鈥渘avigator鈥� with Tulsa Responds, and Turner, an attorney for the YWCA, meet privately with parents to triage their immediate needs 鈥� items like rental assistance, a free hotspot or food stamps. But district staff initially wrestled with whether they even wanted to know which families had been evicted. 

鈥淚t’s a sensitive matter,鈥� said Stephanie Andrews, executive director of student and family support services. It鈥檚 uncomfortable to contact a parent who might not want anyone to know they鈥檝e hit such a low point. 鈥淚t’s not been without some bumps.鈥� 

The district can guide a family to a nonprofit offering short-term rental assistance or temporary housing, but that often means they end up on a waiting list for services. Restore Hope, a nonprofit, spends about $100,000 a month in rental assistance, but those funds only cover about 30% of the eviction cases, said Josh Geppelt, executive director. Plus, to qualify, applicants have to show they have 鈥渕eans to maintain the rent after we do the assist.鈥�

Living in limbo during that application process, while also bouncing from one living situation to the next, is draining, said Aspen Allen, a mother of three.

鈥淵ou鈥檙e waiting for them to call you, and if nobody answers, they move to the next person,鈥� she said. 

She leaned on the district last fall for clothes and backpacks for her kids in between leaving a rental home with plumbing problems, spending time in a run by a local church and moving into Parkview Terrace on the west side of town, a public housing development known for . It鈥檚 the same complex where she鈥檚 currently waiting for a subsidized apartment. 

鈥淚 haven’t been able to have my own spot for my kids to be happy, go to school, go on vacation and just have a good life,鈥� said Allen, who works as a DoorDasher and was waiting to hear back about a part-time FedEx position. 鈥淚’m trying to keep them in school, not missing any days, which is very difficult at times.鈥�

鈥楾hey grab what they can鈥�

Inspired by Tulsa鈥檚 example, nonprofit leaders in other cities nonetheless face the same obstacles in trying to serve families with scarce resources. 

鈥淭here is no system,鈥� said Aqua Porter, executive director of the Rochester-Monroe Anti-Poverty Initiative in New York. 鈥淭here are just things that people have to navigate through, and they are not connected.鈥�

Most of those other nonprofits have something Oklahoma does not 鈥� a longer timeline between eviction notices and court appearances.  In New York, for example, nonprofits have roughly 30 days from an eviction filing to help families find legal aid, point them toward sources of financial support and encourage them to attend their first court appearance.

Because Oklahoma鈥檚 system is designed to get renters with delinquent payments out as soon as possible, it鈥檚 often too late to prevent eviction. Those with nowhere to go may stay in the apartment after they鈥檙e evicted until they鈥檙e forced out by the sheriff鈥檚 department, said Melissa Vowell, a homeless education program specialist for the Tulsa Public Schools.

They usually have about an hour to collect belongings. 

鈥淚f it鈥檚 a sheriff鈥檚 eviction, they grab what they can in the time a sheriff will allow,鈥� she said.

Their next stop might be Vowell鈥檚 office, which connects to a storeroom packed with school uniforms, socks and underwear, and personal hygiene products.

She also maintains a detailed spreadsheet filled with organizations offering food, transportation and housing. One nonprofit on the list is , tucked into a serene, wooded area west of downtown. Out of a small white cottage, Executive Director Tina Massey runs an eviction diversion program that provides one-time payments of up to $1,000 for those who have fallen behind on rent. Massey estimates that the program reached close to 90 district families last school year.  For those who lose their housing, a shelter on the same property offers fully furnished apartments for up to three months.

Brooklyn Cloud found Family Promise on Facebook last year while living in a Mazda SUV with two daughters, one in preschool and another in second grade. After an eviction from Harmony Glen, a 74-unit complex owned by a , they spent six months sleeping under the lights in Walmart and QuikTrip parking lots. 

鈥淚 didn’t even know a 7-year-old could get depressed,鈥� Cloud said. 鈥淗er grades started to slip, lack of appetite. She wanted to sleep all the time.鈥�

While staying in one of the apartments, Cloud and her husband paid off the eviction and saved for a new home. Their oldest now 鈥渉as her own space.鈥� 

鈥淪he’s more bubbly and her personality is back,鈥� she said. 鈥淪he’s not so down-in-the-dumps and snappy.鈥�

鈥楲egal first aid鈥�

Most parents in a crisis like Cloud鈥檚 don鈥檛 even show up to court. 

鈥淭hey can鈥檛 get time off work or child care,鈥� said Hallett, the legal aid attorney.

That was clear the day Courtney鈥檚 case appeared on the docket. Of the 89 eviction filings before Judge Tammy Bruce, who hears about 13,000 eviction cases a year, less than half of the tenants showed up. 

If they do appear, they鈥檙e unlikely to have . In nearly every case, Judge Bruce told them they could either meet with their landlord鈥檚 representative or see if they qualified for legal aid. Court documents show Courtney represented herself, while a Vesta employee appeared for the company.

Courtney was evicted two weeks later. Attempts to reach her by phone and text since then were unsuccessful.

Last year, Hallett began asking tenants if they have children in the Tulsa schools. It鈥檚 his contribution to the district鈥檚 effort to identify more families. 

On the district side, about 40 teachers at East Central MIddle learned how to offer 鈥渓egal first aid,鈥� like helping parents construct timelines of the events that led up to eviction. Missed or partial payments, maintenance issues reported, and messages to landlords and property managers are important to document because when apartments change ownership, new managers don鈥檛 always honor previous attempts to pay. 

Barros, with ImpactTulsa, expected some resistance from staff to the training. She鈥檚 a former social studies teacher at East Central Middle.

鈥淭eachers are like 鈥榃hoa, that’s not my job. You’re adding something else to my plate,鈥� 鈥� she said. But schools play a unique role in eviction prevention, she said. 鈥淜ids are legally required to be here. So let鈥檚 take advantage of that.鈥�

Unfortunately, student newspapers are increasingly rare. A national found that fewer than half of high schools had student newspapers in 2021, down from almost two-thirds a decade earlier. The situation is even worse in New York City, the so-called media capital of the world, which must fully implement its “Portrait of a Graduate” framework by the 2029-30 school year. A found only 27% of the city’s 400-plus public high schools had a student newspaper 鈥� and that number was even lower among schools serving high-poverty communities and those with the lowest graduation rates. 

For five years, the nonprofit I lead, Press Pass NYC, has been addressing this gap by training teachers to advise student-led news teams, both online and in print. We鈥檝e partnered with more than 40 schools across the city, launching brand-new news teams or revitalizing those that may have closed or had trouble getting off the ground. 

Because newspapers are no longer so visible or easily obtained as they were when New Yorkers used to leave them on buses and subways, many teens have never seen one until joining a news team. I realized this when I visited schools to watch how the teachers and students are working together. I got a few bewildered looks when I asked some students what kind of artwork or photo they thought should go with their articles. But as a former reporter, I was thrilled to see how much they love journalism when they realize what they can do with it.

Middle and high school students spent last year writing about controversial new policies like the city’s school phone ban. At one school in Chinatown, an editorial against the ban revealed that for students to use during class. A student at a Queens high school told me how interviewing people for an article on immigration taught him that writing a news article is different from an opinion piece. 鈥溾�奣his is this person’s life, this is their story and you’re listening and you’re resonating,鈥� he explained, with reverence. 

A Bronx River High School student, Lathania Williams, won a for teen journalism for her report on the impact of immigration enforcement on her community. 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 know my voice could reach that far, or that I had power in my writing,鈥� she said. The news team at a school in Brooklyn that a school lockdown had been caused by immigration enforcement agents (it wasn鈥檛). One student who works on the publication said the article, 鈥渓et people know what actually really happened instead of the lie or the rumor.鈥�

At a time when 84% of U.S. teens have a of journalism, student newsrooms create a source of accurate local news, showing the whole school community the difference between journalism and the unvetted information kids get from social media. In the process, students learn through a collaborative workplace driven by a shared mission with deadlines and standards 鈥� the same type of skills “Portrait of a Graduate” standards will be looking for.

St is far more complicated than simply finding a teacher willing to advise one. An effective adviser must understand journalistic ethics, interview skills, audience engagement, newsroom management and the legal and editorial responsibilities that come with student journalism. Those professional skills cannot be acquired through a weekend workshop. And while artificial intelligence can help a student brainstorm questions or polish a headline, it can鈥檛 substitute for an adviser who knows when a source needs to be corroborated, when publishing could put a student at risk or when an administrator is improperly trying to influence editorial decisions.

Building those skills requires sustained professional development, practice and support. My colleague Lara Bergen, who founded Press Pass NYC five years ago, learned this the hard way. A former teacher, she had started a student newspaper at her New York City public high school and was thrilled to see how well it engaged her students. But she had zero training in journalism, and that limited what she could accomplish. Her solution was to create a three-year, in-depth Journalism Adviser Fellowship for teachers, a cohort model where teachers learn together from experienced journalism educators. 

This type of training is essential for a school-based newsroom to last. Unlike core subjects, very few states license teachers specifically to teach journalism. In most places, including New York, the subject is folded into the English Language Arts curriculum, which means an ELA teacher can get handed a newspaper or yearbook to advise with no real journalism training. Because requirements differ widely by location, the Journalism Education Association offers a designation for teachers to prove they are highly qualified.

For student journalism to help prepare the next generation of citizens, schools have to stop treating the person running the newsroom as just another teacher with room in his or her schedule. Journalism advising deserves professional preparation and ongoing support, and schools must treat advisers with the same respect as any other educator. That means building journalism into teacher credentialing, funding the sustained training that advising requires and counting the work of a student newsroom as evidence that a graduate can think critically, communicate clearly and engage as a citizen.

Across the country, elementary schools employ an estimated 67,000 speech language pathologists 鈥� experts on the front lines of diagnosing early language and reading struggles. 

The problem? To meet , schools of them. 

It鈥檚 the same for reading specialists, highly trained educators who have made literacy their professional calling card. There are simply out there with that expertise. 

These shortfalls are part of the reason that students’ reading proficiency is . Today, 40% of fourth graders can鈥檛 do things like provide support for ideas related to a story鈥檚 plot or characters. That鈥檚 up from 33% in 2022. A third of eighth graders can鈥檛 pick out the main idea of an informational text. 

Ensuring that every child has foundational literacy skills is going to be a Herculean task. Based on my work with researchers and technologists, I see enormous potential in automatic speech recognition as a tool for helping to make up for the shortage of specialists. After listening to children read aloud, this artificial intelligence-powered technology can help assess their progress by identifying weaknesses, provide them with feedback and give teachers and parents recommendations for interventions. The promise of this technology is substantial 鈥� if platform developers and their funders can get it right.

This is particularly true in K-2, when students are learning skills that for lifelong reading and success. By assisting speech pathologists and teachers, automatic speech recognition could make sophisticated early literacy screening more accessible and affordable 鈥� and it should only get better as AI advances.

Speech recognition technology has a , and it has been used to support literacy development in young readers since 1990. That鈥檚 when Carnegie Mellon University launched , a computer program that displayed stories on a screen and listened to children as they read the text. The program intervened when the student made a mistake, got stuck or asked for help. It also gave teachers feedback and advice on the child鈥檚 progress and struggles.

The approach worked. A compared the literacy skills of students in grades 1 to 4 who used the program with those of classmates who engaged in sustained silent reading. Those who used the technology-powered intervention, especially in first grade, outpaced their peers in word identification, comprehension, fluency, spelling and understanding of individual sounds.

Some modern versions of automatic speech recognition serve primarily as a screener, like Amplify鈥檚 , which provides teachers with immediate feedback on students鈥� reading fluency and specific areas where they need extra support. Other innovations use the technology to not only assess, but intervene in real time, like 鈥檚 AI reading tutor. An , the tool works in English and Spanish and serves 5 million students in all 50 states. Amira is also collaborating with the Children鈥檚 Hospital of Philadelphia and the University of Pennsylvania Data Center to develop an for neurodiverse students. 

Automatic speech recognition is particularly strong at helping students decode words, as it improves their ability to match written letters to the spoken sounds they make 鈥� a key skill in literacy development.

This spring, Renaissance Philanthropy launched with one moonshot goal: develop AI-powered tools that, over the next five years, will reduce the number of struggling young readers by half. 

Short for Learning Engineering Virtual Institute, LEVI provides five years of funding to researchers and developers who share their knowledge and learnings while tackling big challenges. We recently the teams selected to work toward the literacy moonshot: Reads Labs at Harvard University, OxEd, LitLab.ai and Project Read with the University of Florida Literacy Institute.

Of course, there are challenges to deploying automatic speech recognition in classrooms if it is to reach its full potential. Developers, companies and researchers need to invest in the that are needed to train the AI behind these tools. Importantly, these must include a range of children 鈥� English learners, special education students, etc. 鈥� so the apps and platforms can assist kids with diverse needs. Finally, developers must ground their tools in cognitive science on how the human brain learns, then validate their platforms through rigorous classroom testing.

Automatic speech recognition can never replace a skilled and caring teacher, but it can serve as a patient, non-judgmental expert companion for every educator trying to better understand who is struggling to read, and why. With thoughtfully designed, research-backed screeners and tutors, the nation can have a powerful new tool to tackle its literacy challenge, and give all students more of the personalized reading help they deserve. 

That decision won鈥檛 come until next April when the Ohio Department of Education and Workforce chooses between competing visions of how math should be taught and names textbooks and other learning materials low-scoring schools will be forced to use.

In the meantime, schools will be in a holding pattern of what lessons to use while advocates and state education officials duel behind closed doors over which approaches win out.

With Ohio鈥檚 math scores still below pre-pandemic levels, the Ohio legislature and Gov. Mike DeWine passed a law this summer that mirrors Ohio鈥檚 2023 law mandating the use of the science of reading in classrooms by requiring schools to better track math skills and give students extra help. 

The new law also requires elementary school teachers to show they are proficient in math skills before they can teach math.

But unlike the science of reading law which sets a clear path for how schools should teach, there is no consensus 鈥� both nationally and in Ohio 鈥� on how students can best learn math, with ongoing debate nationally between a self-proclaimed science of math movement and more holistic approaches favored by many educators.

The differences in math approaches are nuanced 鈥� simplified by some as focusing on teaching concepts versus teaching procedures 鈥� and have not become a full public debate in Ohio, at least not yet.

But educators are watching cautiously as the Ohio Department of Education and Workforce follows the model of the reading law and creates a list of 鈥渉igh quality鈥� math textbooks and other learning materials by April 2027.

Most schools can still pick their own textbooks, but an estimated 450 schools with low test scores will have to use only books from that list. 

The department won鈥檛 clear up concerns by saying which studies or resources will guide its evaluation of materials. Asked by 社区黑料, if the science of math was under consideration, the department did not respond, only saying it is still in the planning stages.

鈥淚t would be premature to speculate on those details,鈥� the department told 社区黑料.

Both the state superintendents association and the Ohio Federation of Teachers union said during debate over the law they oppose letting the state, not each local district, decide what to use.

Ohio鈥檚 math teachers also object to the state taking that control.

鈥淚 don’t like the state telling me I have to use a certain textbook,鈥� said Mike Lipnos, president of the Ohio Council of Teachers of Mathematics. 

Lipnos wants the state to follow a state math learning plan he helped create last year that prioritizes teaching math concepts and making sure students develop problem-solving and reasoning skills. But he sensed some opposition within the department to the plan and worries the state will instead approve science of math books he believes teach math as a set of procedures to memorize.

His organization has criticized the science of math as trying to 鈥渃apitalize鈥� off of the science of reading.

鈥淲e want to say clearly to all mathematics stakeholders that OCTM rejects the outdated and inappropriate instructional practices that are being repackaged and promoted as some sort of new 鈥榮cientific鈥� ideology,鈥� the group

The science of math wasn鈥檛 an issue in debate over the bill: Backers did not testify and have not made any public comment. University of Texas professor Sarah Powell, leader of the movement, also told 社区黑料 she is not talking with Ohio officials to promote her approach.

The movement鈥檚 While backers favor teacher-led lessons with explicit instruction on how to solve math problems 鈥� prioritizing them over lessons on concepts that Powell has said can 鈥� waste students鈥� time鈥� 鈥� they say schools need a balance.

How schools teach reading has become a major issue nationally in the last several years, with the majority of states passing laws mandating use of phonics-heavy science of reading lessons. Low math scores on the 2022 National Assessment of Educational Progress then focused states鈥� attention on math. 

Ten states have passed policies to change math instruction just this year, said Lindsey Henderson, the senior policy director for math of the ExcelinEd nonprofit education advocacy group.

, such as having math coaches, teaching math at least 60 minutes a day, or making sure students can take advanced math classes. Alabama, an early adopter of some of the policies, leads the way with eight of the 11 approved and Ohio, as one of the ten states setting math policies this year, is also a leader in the effort, Henderson said.

But Henderson and other experts concede that math research is a few years behind where reading was when the science of reading caught on.

鈥淢ath doesn鈥檛 have a nice short term like the science of reading, and everybody knows what it means and everybody knows where to look for the research,鈥� Henderson said.

The Center for Reinventing Public Education, another nonprofit research and advocacy group, characterized the two sides of the 鈥渕ath wars鈥� as favoring 鈥渢raditional鈥� teacher-led classes as opposed to 鈥渞eform-oriented鈥� classes in which student exploration takes priority. 

In a recent survey of states, CRPE found that as of late last year 18 states and Washington, D.C., have passed math policies, 鈥渕any of which emphasized priorities associated with the science of math.鈥�

But the report notes that both sides claim to be 鈥渆vidence-based,鈥� which makes it hard to decide what鈥檚 best.

鈥淭he Science of Math has not achieved the academic and professional consensus that the Science of Reading eventually did, and the gap matters,鈥� the report states. 鈥淲hether the field will eventually reach comparable agreement, remains unclear.鈥�

In Ohio, the bill enacted this summer by the Ohio legislature and Gov. Mike DeWine comes as just 55 percent of students across all grades scored as proficient or better in math in 2025, while more than one in four scored at the lowest level, the state equivalent of F grades on state tests.

鈥淭his problem has not developed overnight, but its severity grows ever more prevalent as students who were knocked off track by the impact of the pandemic, or who were already struggling academically, continue to be promoted to the next grade despite showing very clear signs of needing significant intervention,鈥� said State Sen. Andrew Brenner, the law鈥檚 author and chair of the Senate Education Committee.

The law passed this summer has drawn praise for several changes, including requiring tutoring of students who struggle, schools where fewer than 51% of third graders score proficient in math to develop a plan to improve and letting high-scoring middle school students combine seventh and eighth grade math into one year and start algebra in eighth grade.

The bill has been praised widely for calling attention to math and for taking steps to help improve math skills.

The law falls far short of Ohio鈥檚 2023 science of reading bill in a few important ways, however. The reading bill budgeted over $160 million to pay for new teaching materials and teacher training, while the math bill provides no new money.

The reading bill also mandated that teachers learn the basics of the science of reading, while the math law only requires the Department of Education and Workforce to develop training by December.

Good training in how to teach math is considered crucial by wide-ranging advocates, including ExcelinEd, Lipnos鈥� math teachers association and its national organization.

The portion of the law that could lead to debate going forward 鈥� the requirement that the Ohio Department of Education and Workforce approve a list of 鈥渉igh quality instructional materials鈥� in math 鈥� did not spark much discussion during hearings for the law.

In the end, the final law calls for all schools required to set math improvement plans 鈥� the 450 schools with fewer than 51% of students testing as proficient in math on state tests 鈥� to use only state-approved books and other materials.

And unlike with the reading law, which specifically banned some discredited teaching approaches and mandated phonics-heavy lessons, the law offers no definition of 鈥渉igh-quality.鈥� The new Ohio law only requires that books help students build their math skills toward mastery.

The department declined to answer questions from 社区黑料 about whether schools are using bad textbooks, whether bad books are leading to bad scores or which methods of math teaching need to be added or cut.

鈥淭hat鈥檚 precisely the gap,鈥� Steve Dackin, the department鈥檚 director told 社区黑料 by email.

鈥淗istorically, the Department has not been able to collect data on math materials, and there is currently no approved list to compare materials against in Ohio,鈥� Dackin said. 鈥淎s a result, we are not in a position to characterize what districts are using.鈥�

Dackin and the department declined to say what it would base its 鈥渉igh quality鈥� judgment on, saying only that books should have 鈥渃oherent learning progressions, strong alignment with standards, embedded assessments that inform instruction and help teachers identify student needs, and evidence-based strategies that create more opportunities for students to engage deeply with core concepts.鈥�

鈥淚t’s not about stopping certain materials,鈥� he said. 鈥淚t’s about ensuring classrooms use resources that truly support strong instruction.鈥�

The program has served in every state in the nation, ensuring kids not only receive access to early learning opportunities, but have what they need to learn 鈥� nutritious food, health supports, developmental screenings, and the like. It also supports their families to become healthy, well, socioeconomically stable, and skilled advocates for their children鈥檚 education. 

The impacts have been short-term, long-term, and even intergenerational, reaching the children of Head Start graduates, improving their  , employment, , and . Meanwhile, research indicates that linguistically diverse kids 鈥� Head Start calls them dual language learners 鈥� have been . 

That鈥檚 why the Trump administration鈥檚 recent proposal to enact a national English-only mandate in Head Start classrooms is so mistaken. This idea undermines the administration鈥檚 own objectives by for parents and giving local Head Start providers less regulatory flexibility while imposing a greater compliance burden. 

Today, about a third of Head Start鈥檚 enrollees are dual language learners. These children have long been a focus for the program. In 1975, President Gerald Ford鈥檚 administration launched regulations that . For decades since, Republican and Democratic administrations (including the first Trump administration) have sustained that requirement. 

Fifty-one years later, it鈥檚 clear that Head Start鈥檚 architects were ahead of their time. Bilingual early learning centers and schools are 鈥� with both English-dominant families and with families speaking other languages at home. that these programs are highly effective for English learners and English-dominant students alike. 

The Trump administration鈥檚 English-only proposal is not only misaligned with science, law, and the administration鈥檚 own stated goals, it will also cost taxpayers. Given that roughly speak a non-English language proficiently, implementing English-only instruction would force providers to spend considerably on restaffing and purchasing new learning materials. Specifically, implementation costs would be between $73 million and $124 million. 

That鈥檚 a lot to pay, particularly to abandon a half-century of bipartisan consensus that Head Start works best when it鈥檚 responsive to the needs of the particular communities it serves. Indeed, this when it exempted tribal communities from the proposal鈥檚 English-only mandate so that tribes could build stronger connections between children and their heritage. Why would this be any different for children who speak other, non-tribal languages at home and in their neighborhoods? 

The proposed English-only mandate is also a resoundingly bad idea on the merits. : for the nearly one-third of Head Start attendees that speak a non-English language at home, bilingual learning is the educational gold standard. When these children have opportunities to strengthen their abilities in their first languages 鈥� while also being exposed to English 鈥� they are more likely to become fully proficient in English and succeed academically. 

Maybe this seems . Why wouldn鈥檛 English-only instruction help linguistically diverse kids learn more English? It appears that bilingual early care and education programs help these children become stronger language learners in general. That is, by developing their first languages more deeply, they become more confident language users, more able to understand complex elements of grammar, syntax, and the like. Over time, these stronger language competencies help them to more thoroughly and rapidly acquire English. What鈥檚 more, bilingual programs absolutely still provide young, linguistically diverse kids with English-language instruction. 

Bilingual learning models work for early education and K鈥�12 programs alike. Over half a century ago, Texas launched one of the country鈥檚 most ambitious commitments to bilingual education. Since that time, the state has grown its investments in these programs to a point where it is now, perhaps, the country鈥檚 best school system for English-learning students. On the Nation鈥檚 Report Card, better in math and English language arts than their peers in almost every other state. 

Finally, in a more general 鈥� and a more urgent 鈥� sense, anyone who cares about kids鈥� well-being should also be concerned whether it鈥檚 a good idea to trade in safety and quality for more seats. Even if 鈥� after spending around $100 million on a national English-only mandate for local Head Start providers 鈥� the administration鈥檚 proposal lowered costs enough to expand the number of available seats, those seats wouldn鈥檛 be of high enough quality to keep kids healthy, safe, and learning, let alone deliver the results that have made Head Start so effective for so many decades. 

And at some point, once safety, quality, and the high standard of care that has made Head Start the national guidepost are dissolved 鈥� we need to ask ourselves what exactly are we expanding access to? 

In February, on orders from the U.S. Department of Government Efficiency, Medicaid officials created a first-of-its-kind online portal containing hundreds of millions of billing records that supposedly would allow everyday people to crowdsource investigations into healthcare fraud.

“DOGE is not a department,鈥� Elon Musk . 鈥淚t’s a state of mind.”

At the time, thousands of heavily armed federal agents were smashing into cars and battering their way into homes throughout Minnesota鈥檚 Twin Cities, under the guise of investigating what the Trump administration insisted was unchecked fraud in autism therapy committed by Somali immigrants.

There was a grain of truth: Fraud is indeed widespread in autism therapy, something a series of federal audits begun during the Biden administration found in red states and blue. In the wake of the audits鈥� release, the Trump administration raided autism centers, blaming lawless immigrants, welfare cheats and 鈥渨oke ideology鈥� for the scandals unfolding nationwide. 

But a 74 investigation found another problem entirely: a massive influx of private equity players capitalizing on the autism therapy industry to the tune of $7 billion in taxpayer-funded Medicaid payments over the course of six years. And much of this explosive growth has come at the expense of children.

The explosive growth of applied behavior analysis

社区黑料 downloaded the 275 million-record DOGE dataset and analyzed Medicaid claims for autism therapy from 2019 to 2024. Our analysis reveals how an unproven, even harmful, behavior modification system called applied behavior analysis, or ABA, is crowding out more effective 鈥� and humane 鈥� treatments for children with autism.

And it shows how a well-intentioned campaign by parents desperate to find a “cure” for their autistic kids has mushroomed into a poorly implemented but extremely lucrative mechanism for providing ABA 鈥� a system of rewards and punishments designed to eliminate certain behaviors 鈥� to as many autistic children as possible, regardless of their age or actual needs. 

Pediatricians, psychologists and other professionals who diagnose autism reflexively prescribe ABA to parents, typically unaware that there is mounting disagreement about the therapy鈥檚 effectiveness and the associated trauma that can follow an autistic individual into adulthood. Told this is the child鈥檚 best chance at a decent life, few caregivers question the guidance until harmful effects start to show.

Experts consulted by 社区黑料 weren鈥檛 surprised by our findings. Health officials turned on the fiscal taps before instituting meaningful legal oversight 鈥� creating the exact kind of loosely regulated environment that draws the opaque investment strategy employed by private equity. 

A secretive corner of the financial sector not held to the same standards as exchange-traded stocks, bank loans and other publicly monitored investments, private equity has acquired businesses in numerous industries over the last decade, hoovering up billions of dollars. 

Private equity typically acquires privately held companies that have access to steady streams of revenue, extracting as much cash as possible in the short term and leaving debt when investors move on. To maximize profits, they often deliver the easiest, most lucrative services, rather than the personalized treatments Medicaid and other public funds were supposed to pay for.

From 2019 to 2024, 社区黑料 found, Medicaid claims for the six most common autism therapy billing codes shot up some 381%, from $400 million a year to nearly $2 billion 鈥� with private equity-backed providers leading the billing pack.

Indeed, federal begun in 2022 鈥� two of them in blue states and two in red 鈥� reveal a very purple problem. They detail how bad actors in the for-profit business sector, whether greedy or merely inept, push autistic children toward ABA therapy at the expense of other, more effective supports at school that students with disabilities are guaranteed by law. 

Families whose children are referred to ABA by pediatricians and other providers are typically urged by private therapy centers to sign them up for as many hours as possible 鈥� up to 40 hours a week 鈥� and to keep them there for years. That is a prescription ripe for exploitation, says Ari Ne鈥橢man, an assistant professor of health policy and management at Harvard’s T.H. Chan School of Public Health and former director of the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network.  

鈥淧rivate equity was attracted to ABA because the industry as a whole had set up a very tidy financial arrangement for itself,鈥� says Ne鈥橢man. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not that private equity is corrupting a previously fine field. Private equity entered the field because of the flaws that were already there.鈥� 

For fiscal year 2026, federal spending on special education . If the $2 billion now being spent every year on ABA for children with publicly subsidized health insurance were added to schools鈥� annual budgets, every district in the country could add one full-time and one half-time occupational therapist 鈥� specialists in desperate short supply who have proven success in addressing many issues facing autistic children.

DOGE鈥檚 intentions notwithstanding, many in the autism community have hoped the crisis posed by runaway Medicaid spending might present an opportunity to take a hard look at how ABA has grown into an industry with the fiscal might to stave off even basic state and federal oversight. And how it is crowding out more effective, humane alternatives, and even preventing children from going to school.

Instead, now they fear that politics will further overshadow needed autism therapy reforms. The second Trump administration has withheld some $3 billion in Medicaid funding from California and Minnesota, insisting that their governors 鈥� whom the president views as foes 鈥� are not attending to fraud. As a consequence, people with disabilities have already lost services. 

As the Medicaid cuts in Trump鈥檚 One Big Beautiful Bill go into effect, and as he and Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. continue to promote disproven and dangerous 鈥�cures鈥� for autism 鈥� at the cost of research into better treatments 鈥� disability advocates fear the future will look a lot like a dark past.   

ABA claims vastly outpace spending on autistic people鈥檚 quality of life

In addition to the financial boondoggles, there鈥檚 a human cost. 

During the six years of records we analyzed, Medicaid billing for ABA therapy totaled nearly $7 billion. That鈥檚 $1 billion more than the United States has spent in 20 years on research and programs under the Autism CARES Act, which pays for services to better autistic people鈥檚 lives.   

As disproportionately small as the CARES Act funding is, even after two decades of lobbying by autists and advocates, very little of it is spent on . Of the $2 billion appropriated last year, to be spent over five years, $30 million will go to creating support for caregivers, $13 million to job training and $19 million to safety and well-being.    

Now, even that modest pot of funding is imperiled, as Kennedy is redirecting federal resources toward new research on vaccines and other long-discredited 鈥渃auses鈥� of autism and dangerous, ineffective treatment strategies. 

Meanwhile, is that the most widely used therapy, ABA, is frequently ineffective and . The therapy was pioneered in the 1960s by Norwegian-born UCLA researcher Ole Ivar Lovaas, who used the same regime of rewards and punishments to develop LGBTQ conversion therapy 鈥� now widely acknowledged as abusive.

Independent researchers and autistic adults who went through ABA say its focus on 鈥渆xtinguishing鈥� natural and frequently beneficial autistic traits and in their place demanding compliance with 鈥渘ormal鈥� behaviors is traumatizing. Much as conversion therapy can鈥檛 change a person鈥檚 identity but can instead instill shame, behavior conditioning will not make autists nondisabled and sends the message their strengths are unimportant.

Lovaas is one of two early autism researchers whose histories are now known to include ties to Nazi Germany. In interviews, Lovaas said that during the five-year German occupation of Norway, he and his family were forced to labor on farms. But a 2025 report in the journal History of the Human Sciences documents his role as a local of Norway鈥檚 Nazi youth movement. The Third Reich sought to 鈥�euthanize鈥� autistic people, who were seen as a financial and genetic burden to society.  

The other autism researcher who played a role in the Nazis’ eugenics campaigns was Dr. Hans Asperger, who reported of 鈥渕alformed children鈥� to be targeted for sterilization or death. 

Proponents are quick to assert that today鈥檚 ABA is a far cry from the slaps and electric shocks of what was known as the Lovaas Method early on. Yet the goal 鈥� to 鈥渆xtinguish鈥� autistic traits in children鈥� typically remains. Kids as young as 2 are routinely subjected to as many as 40 hours a week of repetitive behavior modification drills.   

A past 74 investigation found that for years, the evidence used to legitimize ABA was produced by the industry itself, was rife with undisclosed conflicts of interest and neglected basic guardrails such as documentation of harmful 鈥渁dverse events.鈥� By contrast, independent research into ABA by the and academic scholars found little to no evidence of effectiveness.

A of 460 autistic adults and caregivers of autistic children found that nearly half of those who went through ABA showed symptoms of post-traumatic stress, while 72% of those who did not participate in the therapy were asymptomatic.   

, researchers at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, Ohio State University and the University of Texas at Austin found that people who had participated in ABA before age 18 were 30% more likely to experience a mental health hospitalization than autistic people who had not. Autistic people who had been treated with ABA and hospitalized were also admitted with 32% greater frequency than those who had not.   

Again, says Ne鈥橢man, the industry is predicated on a flawed, but very profitable, model. ABA industry recommendations call for every child, regardless of how young they are or what their needs are, to receive the same intensity of treatment.     

鈥淚 would argue that ABA is potentially harmful in any situation because we haven鈥檛 really addressed the ethical concerns of the potential mental health consequences,鈥� says Ne鈥橢man. 鈥淏ut even if we were to set that aside, the idea that there is an evidence base for applying ABA in all instances without regard to any consideration for age or the types of challenges that someone has, it鈥檚 just ludicrous.鈥�

鈥淔orty hours a week of therapy is a full-time job for a 3-year-old,鈥� says Ne鈥橢man. 鈥淚t鈥檚 harmful for kids and families first and foremost, but I also think it鈥檚 a poor use of public funds.鈥� 

When therapy supplants school

The four federal audits of state Medicaid spending show what advocates have long decried: ABA service providers are allowed to keep children in lucrative standalone treatment centers where they are barred by Medicaid law from receiving academic instruction 鈥� often for years after they should begin attending school.

Auditors raised similar concerns in Indiana, flagging the case of a child who was referred to ABA in January 2014 at the age of 2 and was still receiving more than seven hours of therapy a day, five days a week, at age 8 鈥� years after they should have been in school. Medicaid payments for this child increased from $52,000 a year in 2017 to more than $185,000 in 2022, when the child was 11, for a total of $677,448. 

(For perspective, state spending on school-based special education services varies wildly and is poorly reported. One often-used estimate is that an average of $26,000 is spent annually on each student with a disability, versus $9,000 per non-disabled pupil.)     

Special education teachers say that when these students show up in a classroom, it鈥檚 after years of lost academic instruction. In practice, often this means they will be denied the chance to learn alongside their typically developing peers 鈥� a right enshrined in federal law. 

Advocates say the exact number of children in this position is probably unknowable. As a youngster approaches kindergarten age, families are often warned by their ABA provider that taking their child out of private therapy and enrolling them in school will cause regression. Much as homeschoolers often do, these families can sign official documents saying they are taking responsibility for their child鈥檚 education.    

In the case of the Indiana youngster, now 11, auditors noted that the treatment plan did not say whether the child attended school, 鈥渂ut had a standardized statement: 鈥楾he patient鈥檚 family [has] taken on responsibility for meeting the educational needs of this patient.鈥� 鈥� 

After the audit, Indiana lawmakers on how much therapy centers could bill per child, and for how much time. Many children have reached or are near reaching the cap.  

A state task force appointed to address issues likely to follow the changes repeatedly heard from parents and advocates concerned about older children who, no longer eligible for Medicaid-funded ABA, would attend school for the first time. As a result, a new law allows private ABA therapists to accompany children to class for a transition period. 

How did the ABA industry get so big?

For the first 20 years after Lovaas announced he had 鈥渞ecovered鈥� 鈥� his term for cured 鈥� nine of 19 autistic children on whom he had developed ABA, the supposed miracle cure was inaccessible to almost all families. Insurers were not required to cover the diagnosis or treatment of autism.

Then, in 2005, the mother of a 4-year-old autistic boy sat down at her kitchen table and drafted a bill to require health insurers in South Carolina to cover the 鈥済old standard鈥� therapy being touted as a child鈥檚 best shot at a 鈥渘ormal鈥� life. Then she enlisted hundreds of parents of autistic children to lobby state lawmakers to pass it. 

was compelling. To afford ABA, then costing $70,000 a year, she and her husband had downsized their house and spent their home equity 鈥� plus her entire salary as a law professor 鈥� on therapy for their son, Ryan. 

The grassroots push paid off. In 2007, despite ferocious insurance industry opposition, the South Carolina legislature approved the bill 鈥� only to have the governor veto it, with just one day left in the session. 

Unumb put out another call. Accompanied by a CNN camera crew, an army of parents flooded the statehouse, demanding a veto override. 

When the vote was cast, Unumb , the lawmakers on the floor turned toward the families in the gallery and gave them a standing ovation.    

Weeks later, Unumb held a summit to teach other parents, who flew in from around the country, how she had succeeded in getting what鈥檚 known as Ryan鈥檚 Law passed. She spent the next decade working with Autism Speaks, helping to organize families in other states.

The parents had potent lobbying partners. To convince insurers that ABA was not experimental, a growing community of practitioners created an organization, the Behavior Analyst Certification Board, that set standards, bestowed credentials and promoted research. 

The board did not respond to a request for comment.  

Few questioned whether there was an inherent conflict of interest in an industry creating its own proof points. Most people were more focused on the plight of families 鈥� and the promise heralded by a miraculous, if frightfully expensive, cure. By 2019, every state required most private insurers to pay for autism services, though with wildly differing benefit levels. 

The bigger turning point occurred in 2014, when the Obama administration clarified that the Affordable Care Act required publicly subsidized care plans, including Medicaid, to pay for autism treatment. 

At the same time, the rate at which children were identified as autistic began rising dramatically. The ACA for the first time required insurers to pay for autism assessments, and improvements to diagnostic criteria helped to identify autistic children whose traits were previously missed. 

An analysis of special education Child Count data shows that between 2011 and 2022, autism鈥檚 prevalence rose from 2.3 to 6.3 per 1,000 children, with the greatest increases among those aged 5 to 8 years.

Today, Unumb is the CEO of the Council of Autism Service Providers. The organization, she wrote in an email to 社区黑料, 鈥渂elieves ABA providers must continuously earn the public鈥檚 trust in caring for children with autism. Genuine fraud, waste and abuse must be called out and punished to uphold accountability and patient safety.鈥�

鈥淏ad actors exist in every healthcare profession, including ABA, but that doesn鈥檛 mean they are prevalent,鈥� she added. 鈥淭housands of qualified, ethical ABA providers are at work every day, doing the right thing and making a difference in children鈥檚 lives.鈥�

Private equity enters the picture 

Private equity funds are groups of investors who pool their money to buy ownership stakes in privately held companies or real estate. These firms and their deals are subject to far less government oversight than public companies that trade on the stock market. They rarely disclose information about their activity. 

They typically have managers, who make decisions about the businesses they acquire but don鈥檛 put much of their own money into the investments. Frequently, the goal is to simultaneously cut costs and increase revenue to create a cash flow for the investors. The businesses are usually resold within three to five years. 

Over the last two decades, private equity has become increasingly common in healthcare, even though the acquisition of doctor鈥檚 practices, hospitals, medical equipment manufacturers and nursing homes can . In terms of public oversight, though, all those industries are tightly regulated compared to ABA. 

The mandates for insurance coverage of autism were instituted with very little initial oversight of the quality of services being provided. States that did require providers to be licensed often simply decided to recognize the ABA industry鈥檚 internal credentials.

While these standards are often stricter than a provider鈥檚 hiring requirements, the practice of adopting industry credentials leaves behavior analysts in charge of overseeing their own members. When, in the wake of a scathing federal audit of its Medicaid billing practices, Colorado recently moved to license therapists, it rejected a suggestion that a newly created oversight board contain outside professionals such as psychologists. Instead, the board will be composed of four therapists and one public member, who can also have industry ties. 

The combination of lax standards and ready cash proved irresistible to private equity firms, which began buying ABA practices and consolidating them into large, multi-state chains. From 2015 to 2024, private equity firms acquired 574 sites run by 147 providers, according to researchers from the Brown University School of Public Health.

Of the 50 largest providers by Medicaid billing in 社区黑料鈥檚 dataset, 23 are (or, in two cases, were) owned by private equity. From 2019 to 2024, their claims totaled $2 billion. 

Private equity firms own 11 of the top 15, with claims totaling more than $1.5 billion between 2019 and 2024. 

The process has dramatically reshaped an industry already in need of reform 鈥� in the wrong direction. 

鈥淭hey have created massive national chains with the primary purpose of extracting high returns in a short period of time,鈥� write the authors of 鈥�,鈥� a report from the Center for Economic and Policy Research. 鈥淐onsolidation gives private equity-owned provider organizations a large competitive advantage over other for-profit and nonprofit providers, as well those offering other approaches to [autism] services.鈥�

鈥淚t also gives them more bargaining power to negotiate higher rates for themselves vis-脿-vis state agencies, regulators and insurance payers. Some PE firms have used this leverage to extract higher reimbursements under threat of closing down sites in states in which they do not get the rates they prefer.鈥�

Many of the large networks also advertise immediate openings for autism assessments, which they tout as a quick path to enrolling in therapy. Otherwise, according to the National Institutes for Health, the median time a family spends on a wait list for an independent evaluation is a year and a half. 

How private equity works

Some private equity funds take a partial ownership stake in a business that needs cash to expand or improve. But most of those investing in autism therapy are typically buyout funds, which acquire and consolidate existing businesses.

These funds’ managers invest very little of their own money, maybe 1% or 2% of the total. Investors, which often include pension funds and other institutions, put in another 30% to 50%. The rest of the cost of the acquisition is borrowed 鈥� what鈥檚 referred to as a leveraged buyout.

To make these transactions, a fund sets up a series of companies. Responsibility for the debt is transferred to the company being acquired. 

As the purchased company struggles to make the loan payments, a share of the cash coming in is returned to the investors. Sometimes, the fund managers take out loans on the already indebted business and give the cash to their investors as a dividend.   

Meanwhile, the leaders of the investment fund 鈥� whose expertise is typically in maximizing profits 鈥� are allowed to make decisions about staffing, levels of patient care, who they will serve and where. 

ABA is supposed to be highly individualized, with therapists continually collecting data on children鈥檚 responses to repeated efforts to get them to stop behaviors deemed undesirable, such as hand-flapping or rocking, or to perform actions the therapist wants, like making eye contact. 

This information, gathered by the lowest-rung member of the ABA team, a behavior technician, is supposed to be reviewed by a credentialed provider known as a board-certified behavior analyst, who uses it to modify the child鈥檚 treatment plan on a regular basis.       

But in state audits, federal investigators found repeated instances where the therapists鈥� notes submitted as claims documentation had been copied and pasted, often day after day, bearing the names of numerous different children working with different therapists.

Notes were often signed off by therapists before they had finished the session in question, and Medicaid was frequently billed for unallowable activities, such as naps and lunch.   

For their 2023 report on private equity鈥檚 influence on ABA, investigators at the Center for Economic and Policy Research interviewed former employees of one of the oldest therapy center networks, the Centers for Autism and Related Disorders, or CARD. Founded by one of Lovaas鈥� graduate students, the chain was sold to the private equity group Blackstone in 2018 for a reported $700 million.  

The former employees said that under Blackstone鈥檚 management, they were told to prioritize younger children. Not only can smaller kids remain enrolled for several years before reaching school age, they are most likely to be referred for additional hours of therapy per week under the guise of early intervention. 

鈥淭hey would literally terminate patients in our programs who required lower hours and replace them with those requiring at least 30 to 40,鈥� the researchers quoted one former employee as saying.

CARD did not respond to requests for comment. In a statement to 社区黑料, Blackstone said the network of centers was hit by a 鈥減erfect storm鈥� of COVID-19-era lockdowns, labor shortages and low insurance reimbursement rates that led to a Chapter 11 restructuring. 

鈥淲hen it became clear that a restructuring was necessary to put the company on the best long-term path to deliver on its mission, we worked day and night 鈥� to keep its existing facilities open so the company could continue serving patients,鈥� the statement says.

The statement adds that Blackstone was never involved in specific clinical treatment decisions and had sought to increase pay, reduce caseloads and improve training and operations. 

If an individual center or an entire network is accused of fraud or found to have abused patients, the investment managers who made decisions to maximize profit can鈥檛 be held accountable. Just like the debt, liability accrues to the 鈥減ortfolio company鈥� that owns the actual centers.  

By 2022, CARD had in states with lower Medicaid reimbursement rates and made that put others out of business, shrinking from 250 centers to 100. In June 2023, it filed for bankruptcy and was bought by a group of private investors recruited by its founder.

According to 社区黑料鈥檚 dataset, in 2019, CARD billed Medicaid more than $13 million. In 2024, its Medicaid receipts were slightly less than $2 million.

Private equity鈥檚 structure shields investors and ABA network owners from liability

With corporate headquarters in Farmington, Michigan, Centria Healthcare was founded in 2009 as a pediatric nursing provider. When one of its early patients needed ABA, the company created an autism-focused division. Today, it owns centers in 11 states. 

Because the company is privately owned, its finances are largely shrouded in secrecy. But, according to the investor intelligence service Pitchbook and data gathered for the Center for Economic and Policy Research, Centria was purchased in 2016 by Martis Capital, a private equity firm specializing in acquiring North American healthcare providers. Over the next three years, Centria expanded to nine states. 

As part of a 2018 , the Detroit Free Press reported that Michigan鈥檚 attorney general was looking into claims that Centria had engaged in improper billing and service provision. The story was based on interviews with former company executives, documents obtained by reporters and allegations detailed in a defamation lawsuit the company filed against some of the past employees. 

The paper also reported that two Michigan counties had after local mental health officials cited the company for billing and care issues and an employee was abusing a child. 

Martis Capital did not respond to a request for comment.  

In a statement to the newspaper, Centria CEO Scott Barry vigorously denied the claims: “Whatever these allegations are, yes, they’re very outrageous, but they’re not true. And we’re trying to do a good job to help kids and help families and help our community.”

At the time, the company was in line for an $8 million job-creation grant secured with the backing of the state鈥檚 lieutenant governor, described by the Free Press as a longtime advocate of autism therapy. Five weeks after then-Lt. Gov. Brian Calley made the recommendation, a key company investor hosted a party kicking off Calley鈥檚 gubernatorial bid. Guests donated more than $100,000 to his campaign, the paper reported.      

The grant was put on hold while the state investigation unfolded. In March 2019, the state closed the probe, saying that while it had noted potential billing irregularities, there wasn鈥檛 enough evidence to merit criminal complaints. The grant was not reissued. 

Three former executives later sued Centria, resurfacing their allegations. Both lawsuits were eventually dismissed by the parties.

In a statement to 社区黑料, Centria CEO David Harbour said the company focuses on quality and access.

鈥淥ur work is grounded in a commitment to ethical care, clinical quality and supporting children with complex needs 鈥� including families who may have struggled to find services elsewhere,鈥� Harbour wrote. 鈥淲e strive to identify the needs of children, families and the broader healthcare system as it continues to evolve 鈥� delivering ethical, individualized care that supports the unique needs of each child and family we serve.”

But Centria doesn鈥檛 have to report whether the scandals had any impact on its bottom line. 

鈥淸Private equity firms] have nothing to lose if something goes bankrupt,鈥� says Rosemary Batt, one of the authors of the Center for Economic and Policy Research report and a professor emeritus at the Industrial and Labor Relations School at Cornell University. 鈥淚f a company gets caught in fraud, it鈥檚 just the cost of doing business.鈥�

In 2019, Centria was sold to a different private equity fund, Thomas H. Lee Partners, for $415 million. Since then, according to 社区黑料鈥檚 analysis, the company has been the country鈥檚 largest Medicaid biller, bringing in more than $440 million during our six-year window. That鈥檚 more than twice as much as the second-largest ABA company by Medicaid revenue, Lighthouse.

Thomas H. Lee did not respond to a request for comment. 

Ryan Leitner, a researcher at the Private Equity Stakeholder Project and the author of a on the ABA industry, worries that states鈥� efforts to crack down on Medicaid abuses won鈥檛 address the underlying cycle that allows investment funds to pass off a business that they鈥檝e saddled with problems.      

鈥淎 great place to start is the concept of joint liability between these [investment] firms and the company that they own and operate,鈥� says Leitner. 鈥淵ou need to have assurances that the care is going to meet some kind of benchmark, that there’s going to be some kind of joint liability if there is a problem.鈥�   

Some states, he adds, are trying to give their attorney general or another regulator the ability to stop the sale of a healthcare facility if they determine the company won鈥檛 run it properly or if a private equity firm has problems elsewhere. 

Private equity providers gravitate toward high-reimbursement states 

Writing in the January 2026 issue of the American Medical Association journal JAMA Pediatrics, a group of researchers , one showing the prevalence of children with autism diagnoses and the other assigning states 鈥済enerosity scores鈥� assessing their insurance rules regarding autism. 

Using a commercial deal tracker, they identified 574 autism service delivery sites acquired by private equity between 2015 and 2024, which they overlaid on the maps. The upshot: The states with the highest rates of diagnosis and the most generous benefits have the largest concentration of private equity-owned ABA centers. 

Home to some of the first acquisitions, Colorado, with 6 million residents, had 38 private equity-owned centers, the third-largest concentration in the country and a likely undercount, the researchers noted. Only California, home to more than 39 million people, and Texas, which has 32 million residents, had more private equity-owned ABA centers 鈥� 97 and 81, respectively. 

In February, the Department of Health and Human Services’ Office of the Inspector General released the fourth of eight state audits, finding that Colorado鈥檚 Medicaid spending on ABA mushroomed from $60 million in 2019 to $163.5 million in 2023. 

The auditors examined claims made in 2022 and 2023, finding at least $78 million in improper payments, plus an estimated $207 million in 鈥減otentially inappropriate鈥� claims. 

In Wisconsin, they found $18 million in improper payments in 2021 and 2022, plus $94 million more in potentially inappropriate payments. In Maine in 2023, $45 million in claims were improper and $22 million potentially so. In Indiana, a total of $56 million were improper in 2019 and 2020, with another $76 million potentially improper.

In Colorado, the investigators examined monthly billing records for 100 children, finding improper and potentially improper claims in every case. Seven facilities could not supply individual patients鈥� diagnoses or referrals.

Two providers 鈥� including one that auditors said 鈥渨as purchased by a nationwide ABA company that subsequently closed all of its ABA facilities in Colorado鈥� 鈥� did not respond to requests for records from state and local investigators. 

In the 96 months auditors examined, providers didn鈥檛 describe the services in some claims; four providers didn鈥檛 submit any treatment notes at all. One facility routinely said a child had engaged with peers even though the therapy was delivered at home with no other children present.          

Numerous bills described unallowed 鈥渃ustodial care,鈥� such as bathing, dressing and eating. In 67 months, facilities billed for one-to-one therapy but described group activities. 

ABA companies in Colorado

In May, the Colorado General Assembly took up legislation aimed at . At an , state officials testified that they believed there were between 410 and 500 clinics but could not say with precision because, unlike day cares, summer camps and similar facilities, autism therapy centers are not required to register with the state.  

In 2025 alone, officials received 35 reports of endangerment, including physical abuse by staff, medication mistakes, inappropriate restraint and a registered sex offender working at one center. But because ABA providers and facilities are unregulated, the state lacked jurisdiction to investigate. 

It might be the tip of the iceberg, the state officials warned lawmakers, because many participants can鈥檛 tell their families when something is wrong. At least a third of Colorado children in ABA are nonverbal, and more than 18% are age 3 or younger. 

The bill would create a behavior analyst licensing board and require the state Department of Human Services to craft standards for clinics. The board would consist of three credentialed behavior analysts, one assistant 鈥� or technician 鈥� and one member of the public. It would grant licenses to people who have been given credentials by organizations created by the ABA therapists associations.

To proponents of ABA, many of whom have nursed concerns that private equity is sullying the public profile of their industry, the bill was a huge win. But to many in the disability community, it was one more step in the wrong direction. They feared that new standards would enshrine a treatment they oppose, crowding out public support for alternatives that may be more effective and humane.       

Two parents submitted imploring legislators to oppose or amend the bill. Both cited ABA’s eugenicist roots and research on its harms.  

鈥淎utistic adults often compare ABA to gay conversion therapy, because the goal is often to make autistics appear less autistic, rather than helping them live safely and comfortably as themselves,鈥� wrote Boulder parent Jenny Thamer. 鈥淚n fact, both practices were developed by the same founder.鈥�

Among other changes, she asked lawmakers to appoint a licensed mental health professional and an autistic adult 鈥渨ho provides lived experience鈥� in place of two of the three analysts on the board; to require discipline for practitioners who engage in harmful punishments, including physical restraint and seclusion 鈥� mostly outlawed in Colorado schools 鈥� and to remove references in the bill to ABA as 鈥渂ased on scientific research.鈥�

鈥淭his bill will have lasting consequences for autistics for decades,鈥� Thamer concluded. 鈥淚 respectfully urge you not to expand this system without strong protections, independent oversight and meaningful representation from the autistic people most often harmed by these practices.鈥�

On June 2, Gov. Jared Polis signed the bill without her recommended changes. 

Graphic design by Eamonn Fitzmaurice

This investigation was produced with support from the Education Writers Association Reporting Fellowship program.

Jenny Thamer had low hopes for the meeting called by the superintendent of the Boulder Valley School District to hear from families of autistic students.

From her experience, such so-called listening sessions are often pro forma events, staged more to assuage parents than to actually brainstorm change. 

This one had been called hastily, after a handful of caregivers had complained about persistent problems in their children’s classrooms. 

The meeting was scheduled for the day after Memorial Day, after the end of the Colorado district’s 2022-23 school year. Many families would likely have already left town for summer vacation. 

Worried no one would show up, Thamer and a couple other parents put together an anonymous online survey they could present if attendance was low. 

They need not have feared. Some 50 district parents came, cautiously optimistic that Superintendent Rob Anderson would hear their pain. 

鈥淚 have to give him credit,鈥� says Thamer. 鈥淗e listened to every single caregiver story without interrupting, without rushing people. Like, he was there for it.鈥�

The meeting was scheduled to last an hour, but went on for more than four, as families described repeated phone calls from school staffers demanding they pick up their child midday, kids too anxious to go to school, trauma caused by punishments 鈥� and, in nearly every case, schools鈥� lack of interest in parents鈥� ideas.

As it happened, Anderson鈥檚 own child received special education services. 鈥淚 could understand not just in a way a superintendent could understand,鈥� he recalls, 鈥渂ut as a parent could.鈥� 

While people talked, administrators and the school board president took notes on poster-sized pads stuck to the walls. At the end of the meeting, the parents presented the leaders with the results of their survey, which drew 65 responses.

Anderson listened. And then he promised to create an autism advisory team made up of parents, community members and staff with a goal of using feedback from autistic people 鈥� who usually are not consulted about their own conditions 鈥� to change the district鈥檚 approaches. Thamer, whose child received special education services, was asked to co-chair the team. 

A year later, Boulder Valley implemented what is likely the nation’s first 鈥� and only 鈥� neurodiversity policy. Adopted by the school board in 2024, it commits district schools to using 鈥渟trategies to affirm a student’s identity, rather than trying to 鈥榝ix鈥� or 鈥榗ure鈥� them.鈥� The policy applies to all kids, not just autists. 

It鈥檚 a work in progress 鈥� in part because the policy calls for a sea change in how Boulder schools have approached educating autistic students. Intending to provide good services, the district 鈥� like a handful of mostly affluent school systems across the country 鈥� had invested heavily in hiring practitioners of an intervention called applied behavior analysis. 

Commonly referred to as ABA, the therapy was pioneered in the 1960s by Ole Ivar Lovaas, the UCLA psychologist who created LGBTQ conversion therapy. Both use a system of rewards and punishments to condition a person to act and appear 鈥渘ormal.鈥� Lovaas’ approach was quickly recognized as a human rights violation when applied to LGBTQ people, but not to autistic kids.

Lovaas did not see autistic children as fully human, which he believed justified using electric shocks, slaps and the withholding of food, among other 鈥渁versives,鈥� to 鈥渆xtinguish鈥� atypical behaviors. In a trial now regarded as dangerously flawed, he claimed to have 鈥渞ecovered鈥� 鈥� cured 鈥� nine of 19 children by subjecting them to repeated 1-on-1 drills for up to 40 hours a week.

The Lovaas Method, as ABA was originally known, is now considered the gold-standard autism intervention. Parents are typically urged to enroll their children as quickly as possible after diagnosis, as young as 2, to give them their best shot at a 鈥渘ormal鈥� life.  

Over the last decade, as laws were enacted requiring insurance coverage of autism diagnosis and therapy, the rate at which children have been identified as autistic has tripled. To serve them, a very profitable and largely unregulated treatment industry has mushroomed, pulling in nearly $2 billion a year from Medicaid alone.     

For-profit ABA is particularly strong in Colorado, in large part because of the state鈥檚 history of offering relatively generous benefits for people with disabilities. Because of ABA’s dominance 鈥� and the accompanying perception that it is the most effective way of treating autistic children 鈥� school districts are increasingly turning to practitioners to staff their special education programs, whether or not it is the proper approach for a particular child.      

Modern practitioners defend the intervention, saying ABA no longer subjects children to physical punishment. Yet documentation of its harms is mounting, as researchers 鈥� including autistic adults who underwent ABA as youngsters 鈥� gather evidence that the therapy has caused widespread PTSD. Autistic children may no longer be subjected to electric shocks or slaps to the face 鈥� and the word “aversive” may sound kinder than “punishment” 鈥� but they are routinely denied food, toys and comfort items, as well as adult attention, a strategy practitioners industrywide call 鈥�.鈥� ABA providers still frequently restrain children or confine them in isolation 鈥� practices recognized as so dangerous and traumatic as to be illegal in most circumstances in Colorado schools.

At the listening session, Thamer presented the superintendent with the results of the survey, which echoed what he had heard from parents in person. One-fourth felt the need to shorten their child鈥檚 school day because teachers could not provide a full day鈥檚 support, and nearly half had unenrolled or considered withdrawing their children. 

One-third of respondents said they had been asked to pick their kids up early from school for behavioral reasons 鈥� some frequently. A fourth said their children had been excluded from field trips and other activities. And 13% had out-of-school suspensions and 9% in-school suspensions.

Some 16% were aware their child had been subject to physical restraint or seclusion 鈥� likely a wild undercount, given the number of parents at the in-person meeting who said their kids were restrained several times a week. Historically, Colorado did not require schools to report restraint until two years ago, and still doesn鈥檛 mandate data collection on seclusion. 

More than 40% said schools focused on fixing behavior rather than uncovering the reasons for it; paid more attention to students’ 鈥渓agging neurotypical skills鈥� than to their capabilities; and used inappropriate instruction strategies. 

The families鈥� experiences were common, but the opportunity to share and be believed was novel, says Thamer. Many of the caregivers at the listening session were meeting one another for the first time. Many had assumed they were alone in rejecting guidance from the district鈥檚 supposed experts, or that no one would believe the 鈥済old standard鈥� in treatment was actually making things worse for their children. 

Just sitting in a room with so many other people sharing the same experiences was cathartic. 鈥淚 had tears hearing other people’s stories,鈥� Thamer says. 鈥淧arents carry a lot of trauma from advocating for their kids.鈥�

‘Daddy, help! Daddyyyy!’ 

One of the parents present was Sarah Piril盲. In 2019, she had come home from work to hear her 5-year-old screaming in the basement. He was working with two technicians from a local private ABA center who, in an effort to stop a meltdown, had barricaded him in a room and turned their backs on him.  

This was not a new experience for P, who is being referred to by his first initial to protect his privacy. He had been through this rewards-and-aversives cycle at home, in private childcare centers 鈥� which were quick to show the family the door 鈥� and even public school-based early childhood education. As he got bigger, so did his meltdowns.          

But on this day, Piril盲 says, she heard something very different in P鈥檚 screams. 

鈥淒addy, help,鈥� he shrieked. 鈥淒addyyyy!鈥� 

She bolted down the stairs and instantly recognized that her son wasn鈥檛 being stubborn. He was terrified.

A series of realizations crystalized in an instant, she recalls. P was being punished, over and over, for not understanding what was expected of him.

In the process, he had learned to fear interactions where he could become overwhelmed and lose control. And his parents, whom he needed to keep him safe, had invited the people meting out the punishment into his life.

In schools, isolating or confining children is known as seclusion and restraint. The psychological and physical harms are . Most states have laws limiting the practices to rare episodes in which students pose an immediate threat to themselves or others.  

Yet P鈥檚 therapists were using the tactic on purpose, in the belief that after enough repetitions 鈥� delivered under the guise of benign therapy 鈥� it would 鈥渆xtinguish鈥� some of the boy鈥檚 autistic traits.

On the surface, the goal seems perfectly rational: Grownups were trying to teach P that following instructions brings rewards. But when he didn鈥檛 comply, they鈥檇 double down, sensing defiance. The stricter the adult, the more dysregulated the child鈥檚 response. 

Piril盲 knew ABA practitioners often describe the moment she was witnessing as an 鈥渆xtinguishment burst鈥� 鈥� a last willful attempt by children to get their way by ratcheting up negative behavior. If she went to P鈥檚 aid, in the therapists鈥� eyes, she would be guilty of setting back their hard work.   

She faced a horrible dilemma: follow the therapists’ advice and let the moment play out, or listen to her gut and defy experts who could document her poor judgment in a file with P鈥檚 name on it.  

In the moment, she chose her son, scooping him up and letting him cry.

She had no way of knowing how hard it would be, even after telling the boy鈥檚 private therapists she would no longer tolerate ABA鈥檚 strategies, to keep P out of the therapy. 

Over the next seven years, the district would move him to five schools, not counting distance learning during COVID and a year when P was so traumatized that Piril盲 homeschooled him. In all but one of the schools, he was subjected to ABA.

But she had an unlikely ally. The behavior technician who had stood nose-to-nose with Piril盲 in her basement is a man named Blake Ross. And that confrontation marked a watershed moment for him, too.

The core epiphany Piril盲 had during the episode was that P鈥檚 meltdown had been perceived by the adults as a choice, when in fact it was an involuntary stress response 鈥� the fight-or-flight instinct that鈥檚 a normal part of the human nervous system. Everyone has it, but it鈥檚 especially easy to trigger in a child with an acutely sensitive neurotype. 

Ross adored P. He was devastated to realize the boy was scared of him. 鈥淭here are protocols for stuff like this,鈥� he recalls. 鈥淲e were following them, and it was making things worse.鈥�

In the ensuing weeks, Ross and Piril盲 came to an understanding. The family couldn鈥檛 meet the boy鈥檚 needs alone, and Ross was committed to finding a better way to help. Together, they started trying to understand how entrenched P鈥檚 fight-or-flight responses were, and what would happen if they developed strategies to help his nervous system avoid that traumatic response. 

Things really clicked during third grade when, with help from Ross, Piril盲 started homeschooling P mid-year. With their strategies finally working, the following year Piril盲 searched for a classroom where the adults would try what she called 鈥渘euro-informed accommodations.鈥�   

In the meantime, seeking the flexibility to use their new approach with other kids, Ross and his wife, Jenn Snow, also an ABA provider, had started their own autism therapy practice. They met with Piril盲 and the members of P鈥檚 prospective school special educators to talk about their work.  

鈥淟uckily, we found a team that would actually try it,鈥� says Snow. 鈥淎nd to magnificent effect.鈥�

A data-minded mom literally charts a new course

Before she quit her job to manage P鈥檚 needs, Piril盲 was an engineer and data strategist. Both ABA and special education are supposed to be data-driven. The theory behind ABA 鈥� the analysis being applied, as it were 鈥� is that therapists record a child鈥檚 responses to behavioral drills, routines and tasks, and then use the information to refine their tactics.

An individualized education program, the legal document that spells out how special education will meet a child’s needs, is also supposed to contain quantifiable goals and measures of progress, as well as information on behavior, adult time spent delivering services and the amount of time the student spends in a segregated classroom rather than integrated with typically developing peers. 

All special education parents quickly accumulate boxes of IEP-related documents, but Piril盲 had more: reports P鈥檚 schools sent home when he was physically restrained or isolated, forms announcing he had been suspended and messages asking her to come pick him up early. 

Because P, like many autistic kids, often refused to go to school, Piril盲 tracked his attendance. She also recorded how often he met the school鈥檚 behavior goals, his reading and writing achievement, how much time he spent in different classrooms and how many special ed services he received. 

In January 2025, after P had been enrolled in a new district school willing to work with her ideas, Piril盲 put 340 pages of IEPs and other documents 鈥� 4,000 data points collected over eight years 鈥� into a database. The results were striking.

When P was being treated with ABA, he achieved the school鈥檚 behavioral goals 25% to 50% of the time. When he was in a classroom where the adults were willing to try Piril盲鈥檚 neuro-informed strategies, his success rate was 75% to 100%.

When he was allowed to spend fewer hours and days in the school environment, his attendance actually stabilized 鈥� and his reading and writing scores shot up. As P鈥檚 fight-or-flight episodes subsided, he grew more willing to work on his least-favored tasks. As adults listened to him when he advocated for himself, he spoke more frequently.  

Piril盲 created a presentation for P鈥檚 teachers and aides, with two dozen charts showing how his IEP and ABA interventions fluctuated in effectiveness. There was a one-year window 鈥� labeled 鈥渁utistic burnout鈥� 鈥� when P was restrained 20 times, sent home another 20 times and suspended three times. 

But there were also slides listing which specific, neuro-informed strategies were in place when things were going really well: 鈥淧hysical management is to be avoided entirely鈥�; 鈥淧roactive is better than reactive鈥�; 鈥淧鈥檚 words must work or he will stop using them鈥�; 鈥淔lexibility from you = flexibility from P.鈥�

At the start of the last school year, the boy鈥檚 teachers stopped pushing ABA, Piril盲 says. But when she gave them a draft IEP written from a nervous system response lens, the educators in charge of the planning process rejected it.

Everybody on the IEP team agreed with the support plan, she says. But one team member, an ABA practitioner employed by the district, said they needed to rework it to conform with ABA鈥檚 structure. 

In Boulder Valley classrooms, what that has historically meant is that when a student exhibits a problematic behavior, educators must create a hypothesis for why it鈥檚 occurring. These hypotheses assume the child is choosing to misbehave, e.g., to get attention or to avoid an activity they don鈥檛 like. Then the therapists and teachers create goals that outline the steps of an ABA strategy for addressing the student’s actions.

鈥淭he [lead therapist] said the way I wrote it from a nervous system response perspective was much more helpful,鈥� says Piril盲. 鈥淏ut then [she] also said that she can鈥檛 use that structure, that she wasn鈥檛 able to structure an alternative path for families like mine that specifically request non-ABA approaches.鈥�  

The format of a support plan may seem like a small thing to someone who has not struggled to get their child an atypical IEP, Piril盲 says. But to her, it suggests the adults in the district are not ready to step away from something that鈥檚 not working.  

A shaky substitute for real special ed       

In 2022, the Colorado General Assembly took up a bill to allow families to request an ABA therapist of their choosing be allowed to accompany their child to school. Legislators ended up passing a dramatically amended law requiring districts to have a policy addressing the question. 

The debate, however, revealed that much of the time, schools and families were using private ABA therapy to make up for gaps in special education, childcare and disability services writ large 鈥� something also highlighted in federal audits of Medicaid spending in Colorado and several other states.   

Many of the therapists and industry representatives testified that their clients didn鈥檛 have time for both ABA and school, attended schools that had declared students鈥� needs too profound to manage or said that because they were understaffed, they could support autistic students for only a few hours a day. 

The parents who urged passage of the bill said they needed ABA to close a caregiving gap. Several said schools and preschools were quick to demand they pick their kids up midday 鈥� sometimes threatening to call the police if they didn鈥檛.

鈥淪chools are happy to abbreviate their day and make this someone else鈥檚 problem,鈥� said one. 鈥淎nd I just don鈥檛 think that鈥檚 right.鈥� 

Other parents said their kids were behind academically because they split their time between a therapy center and school. 

A lack of school staff with autism expertise and of out-of-school caregiving options for families are real problems, says Julie Reiskin, co-executive director of the Colorado Cross-Disability Coalition. But behavioral therapy is not intended to address those problems. 

鈥淲e need to have childcare and schools that are not calling parents, that can keep their kid through the whole day,鈥� she says. 鈥淏ut if that’s the need, then that’s what we should be funding, not one specific kind of therapy. 

鈥淲e could do it for a lot less money than this,鈥� adds Reiskin. 鈥淎nd maybe the kids will also be having more fun.鈥� 

Lindsey Trott told lawmakers there are more effective methods for helping students than ABA, but that schools lack the resources to use them. She鈥檚 now an occupational therapist, but as a teenager in the late 1990s, she was hired by a family that was implementing the Lovaas Method in their home with their nonverbal 4-year-old.

For 10 months, three days a week after school, Trott said in an interview with 社区黑料, she would sit with the boy and perform what are known in ABA as 鈥渄iscrete trials鈥� 鈥� repetitive drills of tasks like making eye contact or copying a structure made of blocks. She rewarded his compliance with a fruit snack or a cartoon break.

鈥淎fter a couple of months of working with me, when I would show up at the door, he would cry and run away,鈥� says Trott. 鈥淗e made no progress.鈥� 

In hindsight, what she thinks the family really needed was respite care. 鈥淎t the end, I felt more like I was there supporting the mom,鈥�  she recalls. 鈥淚 would stay and she would tell me things. She was sad and frustrated.鈥�        

That experience was a catalyst. In search of solutions, Trott went on to earn a master’s degree in special education and then two degrees in occupational therapy. When she was training, she shadowed a veteran OT, as the specialists are typically referred to in schools. 

They drove to several small gyms, where the experienced OT stood alongside kids doing simple gymnastics, talking to them about what they were doing. 

鈥淔or the first time, I saw nonverbal kids having fun,鈥� says Trott. 鈥淎nd I felt something about what I was seeing.鈥� 

All people regulate their emotions or nervous systems by what鈥檚 known as 鈥渟timming鈥� 鈥� making repetitive motions or noises. In contrast to things neurotypical people do unconsciously, like twisting a strand of hair, autistic peoples鈥� stims can be dramatic, such as pacing or rocking. Schools and therapists often attempt to stop stims.  

Occupational therapy鈥檚 descriptions of this are much closer to Piril盲鈥檚 ideas about the nervous system than to ABA鈥檚 concepts. Proprioceptive input 鈥� what OT refers to as 鈥渉eavy work,鈥� like jumping or other activities that engage muscles 鈥�  calms nerves and enables self-regulation. Vestibular input 鈥� sensory information the brain receives from the inner ear when a person swings or spins, among other motions 鈥� facilitates balance and movement.

If schools taught children about their nervous systems, lots of students鈥� needs would be met, not just the autistic kids鈥�, Trott believes: 鈥淚f we had a special ed teacher for every grade level and we had an OT for every campus, schools could look very different.鈥�

A 74 analysis of Medicaid billing claims revealed that spending on ABA just for children with this public, safety net healthcare now totals $2 billion a year. If that money were added to schools鈥� annual budgets, every district in the country could add one full time and one half-time occupational therapist. 

Neurodiversity training goes only so far

One of the first things Boulder Valley leaders did with the input from its Autism Advisory Team was to put together mandatory neurodiversity training for every staff member in the district. 

In a departure from typical practice, a training video was created using input from community members, says Michelle Brenner, director of special education for the district. Two of the four presenters in the video are autistic. Trainers emphasize that understanding what it means to be neurodiversity-affirming is good for everyone. 

The with a discussion of fight-or-flight and other autistic behaviors, which appear when a student feels physically unsafe or 鈥� something that is much harder for a neurotypical person to anticipate 鈥� socially unsafe.

鈥淲hen a student engages in those behaviors, often they are trying to tell us, 鈥業 feel unsafe all the time,鈥� 鈥� explains a speech-language pathologist. 鈥淭hat is the autistic experience.鈥� 

Then, an autistic high school teacher, Wren Roberts, describes what it is like to go through life in a state of hyperarousal. Indeed, she confesses that she feels unsafe talking on camera. 

鈥淚 have spent my entire life learning to hide it,鈥� she explains. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 called masking.鈥� 

Just as existing with a continually activated nervous system causes mental health issues, she notes that autistic people who mask experience high rates of depression, anxiety, insomnia and suicidal ideation.  

Up next in the video, an autistic man who volunteers in a district afterschool program outlines how a neurotypical person can figure out whether a student is feeling unsafe, and why. Finally, a high school teacher reminds the audience that while this cycle is often pronounced for autists, 鈥淥ther students are likely feeling the same way.鈥� 

As progressive as this seems compared with most other districts鈥� approaches, the mandatory training was relatively simple, says Shannon Gamble, Boulder Valley鈥檚 director of multi-tiered systems of support. Her specialty is differing strategies that are used to help students struggling with literacy or other skills.  

District leaders have created an internal data dashboard tracking how often students are restrained, how many are restrained repeatedly, whether teachers and therapists have looked for the 鈥渞oot causes鈥� of repeated problems and other indications that changes are being implemented and whether they are working. 

The training is a start, Gamble says. 鈥淎 big part of what needs to shift is mindset and understanding, and the way that we view each other and our students.鈥� 

Some families want their children to continue to receive ABA in school. But to others, who continue to push against it, the pace of change can feel glacial, they say.

鈥淥ur families come in and they’re like, ‘All right, why don’t you just go tell people to do this thing?’ ” says Gamble. “There’s things we can do right away. We can change [the language on] a form, right?鈥�  

Altering mindsets is a longer-term proposition, she continues: 鈥淚t’s going to take more than us just telling people what to do 鈥� especially things like neurodiversity, where many of our educators were taught in a way that maybe is not what our neurodiversity philosophy is telling them we believe.鈥�

Because district leaders had invested in what they thought was the best intervention for students, a number of the people leading its special education efforts hold some of ABA鈥檚 highest credentials. The persistence of their beliefs is visible in district materials.  

For example, families point to an educator training created more than a year after adoption of the neurodiversity policy that makes numerous rewards-and-consequences recommendations even as it acknowledges trauma鈥檚 role in children鈥檚 behavior. Forms distributed to classroom aides have grids for charting ABA interventions.    

A outlining the neurodiversity policy and resources also links to that outlines Boulder Valley’s ABA strategies: 鈥淭he behavior analyst is responsible for the implementation of skill acquisition and behavior support strategies aligned with current best practices from the field of applied behavior analysis (ABA) as well as responsibilities and duties within the school special education collaborative team.鈥�

Restraint and seclusion

In 2022, the U.S. Department of Education to avoid restraining and isolating students with disabilities unless a child鈥檚 behavior poses 鈥渋mminent danger of serious physical harm to themselves or others.鈥� Not only are the practices dangerous and abusive, it said, but there is no evidence they help modify disability-related behaviors. 

They are also discriminatory, the agency warned. Students with disabilities are three times more likely to be physically restrained or confined than their non-disabled classmates. Often, they face discipline because they lack proper services. 

In practice, however, it is devilishly difficult to get schools to move away from restraint and seclusion. Over the last couple of years, in several states that of even just preschoolers and early elementary age children, education administrators have lobbied statehouses to repeal the bans.  

Disability advocates push back, saying schools need to do more to support educators who are left without effective alternatives. As a result, when seclusion is prohibited, schools often simply rebrand the spaces where children are confined as time-out rooms. 

How does Boulder Valley stack up? 

Brenner and Gamble say the district鈥檚 internal data shows small improvements since the adoption of the neurodiversity policy, including a 鈥渟light reduction鈥� in the number of autistic students who are repeatedly restrained and secluded and a dramatic drop in the number subjected to formal threat evaluations under Colorado鈥檚 school safety protocol.

But in terms of collecting data on restraint, Colorado鈥檚 history is tangled. The state鈥檚 first restrictions on when a child could be physically controlled were intended to address solitary confinement and punishment in juvenile detention centers. 

The practices were supposed to be rare in schools, but the state didn鈥檛 collect any data that would allow it to measure compliance. In 2022, the Colorado General Assembly passed a law requiring districts to begin reporting by the end of the 2024 school year. 

It did not, however, address seclusion as a specific form of restraint 鈥� which all but a handful of districts interpreted as a mandate to report only episodes when a child was physically or mechanically controlled. Legislators rejected a 2025 attempt to clarify the law.

For the 2024-25 academic year, Boulder Valley told the state it physically restrained just 42 students. It did, however, of 鈥渄etrimental behavior鈥� 鈥� conduct that has a negative impact on the welfare or safety of other students or staff 鈥斕齛mong children with disabilities. Students with IEPs make up 15% of the district鈥檚 student body, but comprise one-third of those disciplined.听

While ABA practitioners鈥� stances vary, they often don鈥檛 think they are restraining a child but rather 鈥� much as took place in Piril盲鈥檚 basement 鈥� believe they are engaging in a therapeutic strategy that is to the child鈥檚 benefit.   

In 2010, the Association for Behavior Analysis International opposing 鈥渋nappropriate鈥� restraint and seclusion but supporting the interventions when used by practitioners as part of a formal plan: 鈥淲hen used in the context of a behavior intervention plan, restraint in some cases serves both a protective and a therapeutic function. These procedures can reduce risks of injury and can facilitate learning opportunities that support appropriate behavior.鈥�

In May 2025, 社区黑料 reported that the Arizona Autism Charter Schools 鈥� a network of ABA schools whose founder was chosen by President Donald Trump to oversee special education 鈥� restrained and secluded students at unusually high rates even though state law restricted the practice to emergencies.    

Often, when autistic children are sent to 鈥渂lue zones鈥� or 鈥渃ool-down corners,鈥� schools fail to see and report it as seclusion. The distinction that鈥檚 lost: a space students can retreat to of their own volition when overwhelmed 鈥� and leave when calmer 鈥� is different from seclusion.

The fact that the district has adopted a neurodiversity policy but also proclaims ABA will remain in place infuriates Piril盲. If you ask her, there鈥檚 no reason state and local officials can鈥檛 do their own version of her analysis of which strategies contributed to P鈥檚 dysregulation and which enabled him to stay calm and engaged. They鈥檙e just choosing not to.  

‘The most important message’

One of the first things Jenny Thamer did as co-chair of the Autism Advisory Team 鈥� a role she played for two years before moving on 鈥� was to send out a second survey, consisting of a single, open-ended question: 鈥淧lease tell us the most important message(s) you or your child want educators to know.鈥�

The replies were consistent: 

鈥淚t is our job as adults to figure out why [kids] are not doing well. Children should never be left to figure it out on their own.鈥�

鈥淢y child does not need to make eye contact to be listening. He is not avoiding instruction by not making eye contact.鈥�

鈥淢y child may look fine on the outside to you, but inside they are almost paralyzed with anxiety.鈥� 

鈥淢y child may communicate differently, but that doesn鈥檛 mean he doesn鈥檛 want to be involved.鈥�

Anderson, the superintendent, says he鈥檚 committed to fully implementing the district’s neurodiversity policy. True recognition of the array of ways in which people experience Boulder Valley鈥檚 schools will benefit every student and educator, he says, autistic or not.   

鈥淭he idea that we understand the challenge and the needs of a neurodiverse community, and that we are locking arms to meet those needs, that鈥檚 good for all kids,鈥� he says.    

鈥淭his is really hard work. I鈥檓 not here to tell you we鈥檝e solved the problems. But these things aren鈥檛 hidden anymore. They鈥檙e not whispered.鈥�

After publication, the district provided data showing 42 students were physically restrained during the 2024-25 school year.

This investigation was produced with support from the Education Writers Association Reporting Fellowship program.

The coverage mandates these parents helped secure have driven hundreds- and even thousands-fold increases in Medicaid spending on ABA 鈥� an unproven, even harmful, behavior modification system that uses rewards and punishments to try to eliminate certain behaviors.

Over the last decade, the ready flow of cash has attracted private equity, a type of investment that purchases large shares of companies that are not publicly traded. Through cost cutting and other restructuring methods, these short-term investors try to boost revenue before selling the businesses for a profit. With scant state or federal oversight, they have also acquired nursing homes, facilities for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities, medical equipment providers and other healthcare industries that rely on taxpayer dollars to profit.      

Now, states 鈥� which put few regulatory guardrails on the ABA industry, on private equity鈥檚 role in healthcare in general or on Medicaid reimbursement 鈥� are cracking down. Even before a series of damning federal commissioned by the Biden administration were released in recent months, lawmakers and health officials have proposed capping the amount of ABA an individual child can receive and how much providers can bill, as well as imposing standards on clinics and therapists. 

As states have revisited Medicaid reimbursement rates and other policies that impact providers鈥� financial bottom lines, two types of ABA-related debates have played out in statehouses. One involves the ABA industry鈥檚 entrance into state-level political spending; the other, efforts by providers and caregivers to require public schools to allow the therapist of a family鈥檚 choosing to accompany their student to class.  

The start of statehouse spending 

Individual state legislative races are relatively cheap to influence. While parents have long packed hearing rooms to testify against threatened cuts to autism services, in recent years some of the industry鈥檚 largest, private equity-owned ABA providers have begun making campaign donations to candidates for state-level office who could sway legislation on ABA oversight, Medicaid reimbursement rates, whether private autism therapists should be allowed in schools and other laws that impact providers鈥� profits.  

Lobbying and campaign finance reporting requirements vary widely from state to state. Using records compiled by the political spending watchdog group Open Secrets, 社区黑料 was able to identify instances when ABA lobbyists donated to state-level campaigns around the country at consequential moments, to benefit the companies the lobbyists represented. 

In 2022, Florida lawmakers passed a law allowing behavior technicians from private, for-profit ABA centers to accompany kids to school 鈥� opening a new and potentially lucrative market. While reimbursement rates vary by state, private ABA centers typically bill insurers for behavior technicians鈥� time at $50 to $100 an hour. Special education classroom aides employed by public schools, in comparison, frequently make about $25 an hour.  

Campaign contributions made that year by two of ABA鈥檚 largest private equity-owned concerns, Hopebridge Autism Therapy Centers and Acorn Health, would barely cover a lobbyist鈥檚 bar tab at a Washington, D.C., watering hole. 

Hopebridge Autism Therapy gave a total of $10,000 to nine incumbent lawmakers and one challenger. Acorn Health gave $7,500 to the state House Republican Campaign Committee and $3,333 to the Florida Republican Party. 

It was a small expense for two of the country’s largest autism therapy companies, which between 2019 and 2024 brought in almost $200 million 鈥� nearly $134 million for Hopebridge and more than $63 million for Acorn, according to a 74 analysis of Medicaid ABA billing records. 

The largest company by Medicaid revenue, Centria Healthcare, was paid more than $400 million between 2019 and 2024, according to 社区黑料鈥檚 analysis. The company spent almost $200,000 in Oregon and Indiana in three election cycles: 2020, 2022 and 2024. 

In 2024 in Indiana, where a federal audit would soon find up to $133 million in improper Medicaid ABA claims from multiple providers, sparking caps and cuts, Centria gave $25,000 to gubernatorial candidate Michael Braun.

As governor, Braun created a state applied behavior analysis to consider ways to rein in costs while continuing to serve autistic children. The group鈥檚 membership is dominated by ABA practitioners.

In Oregon, the company gave former Rep. Dan Rayfield $55,000 during his last two terms as House speaker, followed by $25,000 for his successful 2024 run for attorney general. The state House Democratic Campaign committee received $50,000, while 13 other lawmakers got contributions of $1,000 to $10,000.

On the table: A to expand the state鈥檚 private insurance autism therapy mandate until 2030 and a to extend Oregon鈥檚 ABA mandate to conditions other than autism, such as intellectual and developmental disabilities 鈥� potentially opening significant new markets. The law mandating continued coverage of autism treatment was enacted.

The bill to expand the disability categories for which ABA practitioners can be reimbursed faced significant pushback. Testimony submitted to lawmakers included of research on the therapy鈥檚 effectiveness for conditions other than autism, such as Down syndrome, cerebral palsy and epilepsy. It concluded the evidence is thin. The measure is still pending in the state House. 

Facing Medicaid rate cuts, Utah Behavior Services (now known as Bridgeway Integrated Healthcare Services) 鈥� with Medicaid revenue of some $196 million, according to 社区黑料鈥檚 dataset 鈥� spent some $41,000 to influence 21 contests, including state auditor. Action Behavior Centers, which collected $1.7 million in reimbursements between 2021 and 2024, spent $2,500 .  

Must schools allow private ABA in classrooms?

Special education law requires schools to provide 鈥渕edically necessary鈥� services to children whose ability to attend school and learn depends on them. For the most part, school districts can pass these costs along to Medicaid or another public healthcare plan, or to a family鈥檚 private insurer.   

Commonly cited examples are children who need a nurse to manage their airway or feeding tube, or have a condition that requires physical therapy. Historically, ABA has not been recognized as a medically necessary service. Schools typically try to meet students鈥� behavioral and communications needs in other ways.    

In 2022, two Colorado lawmakers introduced a bill to require school districts to enshrine autism therapy as medically necessary. Administrators from the Colorado Consortium of Directors of Special Education, the Englewood and Cherry Creek school districts and others expressed concern with the bill. 

They would be liable for the in-school conduct of a technician they don鈥檛 employ, several of those commenting said. And, most practically problematic, schools would be legally responsible for figuring out how to make up the academic instruction that students would miss while engaging in therapy during the school day.

The General Assembly eventually passed a version of the bill not specifically addressing ABA. Instead, it requires districts to have policies outlining how they will address medically necessary services.  

Louisiana and Pennsylvania recently enacted laws saying schools must accept autism therapy technicians. The requirements are too new to assess results.

This investigation was produced with support from the Education Writers Association Reporting Fellowship program.

A blank document had become intimidating, not because she had nothing to say, but because she forgot how to say it alone. 

That scene from one of our classes underscores the unique challenge our generation faces as the first to grow up with artificial intelligence being a part of everyday life. High school students across the country share the struggle of navigating education with this new technology. 

According to a , the vast majority of teens who use AI for schoolwork do so without clear guidelines from their teachers, turning generative tools into an easy shortcut rather than an educational aid simply because no one ever taught us how to use them properly. 

This isn鈥檛 the first time a young generation has grappled with new technology in everyday life. During the rise of the internet in the late 1990s, the original digital divide was a battle of infrastructure and wealth. It split our parents鈥� generation into those who had computers and dial-up at home, and those who were left completely offline. 

Decades later, proved that this original physical gap directly fueled a deeply polarized labor market. This divide compounded existing socioeconomic inequalities, leaving those who lacked technology access with restricted career and wage prospects. The difference between the rise of the internet and AI is that the AI divide is defined by agency 鈥� who is taught to command systems and who is left to navigate them in the dark 鈥� not access.

Some school districts have acknowledged this and have taught students how to use AI tools by practicing prompt engineering, learning to verify AI-generated facts and enhancing the skills that the workforce will demand. For instance, partnered with higher education and industry leaders to launch a district-wide AI literacy initiative. The district integrated specific frameworks into high schools to ensure students graduate with the critical thinking and ethical skills necessary to navigate an AI-driven economy.

However, in other schools, students are banned from using AI entirely and are not taught how to spot bias, talk to AI, or to use it ethically. For instance, has adopted strict frameworks that restrict major AI platforms, except Microsoft Copilot and Canva AI, across school networks 鈥� treating any unapproved use as an academic integrity violation. 

Simply warning students against using AI without teaching them how the technology works or how to question its outputs doesn’t stop them from using it. It only leaves them to use it passively, without developing critical thinking skills to optimize it. 

According to the Lumina Foundation, over half of high school students regularly use AI tools for schoolwork, even though . When policy ignores this reality, schools fail to eliminate AI use 鈥� they only succeed in eliminating AI literacy.

In addition to students, many teachers and administrators are also being left behind simply from the lack of guidance and necessary digital infrastructure. In fact, as of 2026, lack the time to develop an AI training curriculum, and 75% lack the knowledge to do so. Without a standard curriculum that simultaneously educates our teachers and students, schools risk creating a future workforce where those unfamiliar with AI tools are systematically left behind. 

Although AI currently poses challenges in schools, it can transform learning if integrated deliberately. As students from Virginia and Wisconsin, we call on state legislators and school boards to pass legislation mandating AI literacy standards tied to industry benchmarks as a graduation requirement. 

To enforce this, state boards of education must tie direct funding to AI-resilient curriculum compliance, while also allocating funds for teacher professional development so educators across all subjects 鈥� not just technology fields 鈥� are trained to teach ethical AI usage.

Educational communities do not need to start from scratch: Successful models already exist. recently implemented an initiative that involves its members working with high school teachers to develop a curriculum 鈥� based on Google鈥檚 AI Essentials online course 鈥� designed to teach high schoolers how to safely use AI.  

If we as a society don’t teach all students how to interact with AI, young people will not only be given a weaker education, they will be locked  out of the new AI-integrated economic ecosystem. Legislators, school boards and educators have a responsibility to ensure that young generations are able to use AI. 

What鈥檚 left unsaid in this bill is what any Mainer has experienced recently: The weather is changing drastically. 鈥淢y daughter鈥檚 classroom was 96 degrees鈥� a few years ago, said Jeremy Ray, the superintendent of both the Biddeford and Dayton school departments in Maine. 鈥淭hirty-five years ago, no one had heard of a heat day,鈥� he added. 

Maine is far from alone. A quick glance at a map of weather-related school closures from shows that since the 2020-21 school year, all but two states have faced school closures due to extreme weather. In fact, the nonprofit organization estimates that weather disrupted school for 9 million students in 10,000 schools during the 2024-25 school year. In California alone, students lost about a half-million hours of instructional time in the last school year, says Jonathan Klein, the organization鈥檚 co-founder and CEO. 

And these issues aren鈥檛 stopping. As of Sept. 2, before school even opened for some districts, there have already been at least 30 school closures or disruptions in 14 states, ranging from floods in Indiana to wildfire smoke in California to power outages caused by severe storms in Tennessee.

鈥淭his is happening all over the country,鈥� said Klein, adding that the nonprofit鈥檚 site likely undercounts the extent of the problem. 鈥淭his phenomenon is happening everyday.鈥� 

Add these closures to the stubborn chronic absenteeism trend that hasn鈥檛 faded much since the pandemic, and it becomes obvious that school has become more disrupted for more students. Today, will miss 18 school days each year, hitting the mark to be classified as chronically absent. 

Even though weather-related school closures don鈥檛 count as absences and can be rescheduled, they represent missed time in the classroom. And missing a week of school can compound student learning loss for up to three weeks, according to a from NWEA. The effects don鈥檛 stop only when schools are closed; a report shows that for schools without air conditioning, a one degree rise in temperature can decrease student learning by 1%.

That data backs up a study in New York state that linked academic achievement increases to schools which improved their building鈥檚 heating, ventilation and air conditioning, said Lucy Sorensen, an associate research professor at the University of Albany. Sorensen and two other researchers examined 3,000 schools over 14 years and found that schools making HVAC improvements saw attendance gains, fewer suspensions and 鈥渕odest鈥� increases in student math and reading scores. 

That鈥檚 the good news. The bad news is that at a time when education funding is tight, schools are older than ever, and fixes can be expensive. The average age of public schools is 49 years old, with more than half of those buildings needing, at a minimum, significant repairs. 

Nationwide, the American Society of Civil Engineers has given school infrastructure a D+ for three consecutive years, while noting that the country鈥檚 infrastructure had improved during that period. A 2021 report estimated that 13,700 schools still need air conditioning at a cost of $40 billion. 

Take Ann Arbor, Michigan, for example. In a district with more than 16,000 students and 32 schools, the average building age is 70, with five of its historic buildings more than 100 years old. While those buildings 鈥渁re well loved by the neighborhood,鈥� making improvements to keep up with weather challenges are difficult, said Jason Bing, the director of capital programs for Ann Arbor Public Schools. 

The classroom temperature inside the top floors of schools has topped 90 degrees, he said, while schools also closed during last January鈥檚 polar vortex when wind chill temperatures plunged to well below zero. 鈥淲e鈥檝e definitely seen greater extremes,鈥� Bing added. 

Work in Philadelphia shows how expensive it can be to update old school buildings. Pre-pandemic more than half the city鈥檚 218 schools didn鈥檛 have air conditioning; the city used COVID relief funds and a $200,000 donation from Eagles quarterback Jalen Hurts to address the problem. But four years into the work, still lack air conditioning, and 52 schools closed early last week because of hot classrooms. 

In California, nearly 20% of a $1 billion account created to fund school HVAC and plumbing repairs went and will be returned to the utility companies that originally funded the work. More than 4,500 schools used the fund to assess HVAC systems, but only 172 schools made significant upgrades using the money. 

While Sorensen鈥檚 study showed that academic achievement can improve when building infrastructure is upgraded, it also showed that low-income students and students of color are more likely to attend schools with poor HVAC systems, a factor that she said contributes to the lagging academic achievement for those student populations. 

In New York state, not counting New York City, about 18% of Black or Hispanic students attend schools with inadequate ventilation systems compared to 13% of White or Asian students, the study reported. Digging deeper on this issue, a that Sorensen helped write shows that 鈥渟chools serving more students of color are significantly more likely to have poor overall conditions, inadequate ventilation [and] mold exposure.鈥�

Klein points out that while more than 700,000 students were affected by the Los Angeles wildfires in 2025, 75% of those students were socioeconomically disadvantaged, 60% were Latino, and 40% multilingual learners. 

Up to 5% of the racial achievement gap between test scores for Black students and their white peers can be explained by excessively hot classrooms, Klein added, citing the UCLA Luskin Center report. 鈥淔or schools with air conditioning, the negative effects virtually disappear,鈥� he added. 

One of UndauntedK12鈥檚 goals is to help schools leverage federal energy tax credits to install ground-source heat pumps. 

Back in Maine, Ray says two new elementaries are slated to open in 2028 and both will employ geothermal heat pumps. But until then, he鈥檒l continue to cobble together methods to keep his schools comfortable. 

Of course, extreme heat isn鈥檛 the only weather-related problem Maine schools face. Most of the state expects to close school about five times a year for snow, but lately power outages, floods and ice have been affecting when schools are in session, Ray said. 

The state is warming faster than the global average, and the estimates that in 60 years the climate of the most northeastern state in the contiguous United States could resemble current conditions in New Jersey. 

Ray leaned on OSHA guidelines to set his district鈥檚 temperature standards as requiring action if classrooms are below 40 degrees or above 99 degrees, both of which could become pretty uncomfortable for students. But his concerns don鈥檛 end when the final bell rings because 鈥渙nce these buildings heat up, they just don鈥檛 cool down,鈥� he said. The district has used industrial fans at night to try to lower building temperatures, but even that has limited effectiveness. 鈥淚n the first week, it鈥檚 very challenging for educators to do academics,鈥� he admitted. 

That鈥檚 progress. But at this rate, it would take over 30 years for schools to reach the the American School Counselor Association鈥檚 (and still overwhelming) 1:250 ratio.

Students and schools aren’t waiting for human help to arrive. Nearly of students are already turning to artificial intelligence chatbots for college and career guidance, and schools are starting to use AI to answer students鈥� frequently asked questions to free up counselors鈥� time.

Turning to tech is rational when human resources are scarce. But swapping chatbots for overworked counselors masks a more fundamental problem: For decades, schools have tried to make a one-to-many advising model work.

AI could be a tool to help schools create something different: a many-to-one model in which each young person is surrounded by a strong network of teachers, alumni, family, mentors, employers, coaches and counselors working together to help students make progress.

That model is fundamentally grounded in a proven driver of student success: relationships. Research has long shown that relationships lead to success in , increase and , and ultimately unlock . 

That was the vision behind a pilot project my colleague Anna Arsenault and I led with 10 college and career guidance technology platforms, exploring how to build tools that didn鈥檛 just give AI-generated advice, but made it easier to find, reach and rely on their broader human networks. We worked with the designers of each platform to create and test features that would help students recognize their existing connections, practice reaching out and find new ones who assist them in achieving their goals.

Our new report, “,” describes three trends that highlight what schools and tools can do to move toward a many-to-one model of college and career support.

First, students need help recognizing the network they already have. This includes not only the many assets around them, but also the relationships students overlook entirely.

ESAI, a college admissions platform, piloted a network-mapping feature where students organized extracurricular activities and identified the “people in their corner” who could help them pursue their out-of-school interests. Family and teacher connections together accounted for 40% of selections; counselors made up just 10%, peers only 4%. Another platform, iCouldBe, analyzed student network maps from the past school year and found 54% of relationships were family members, 30% school-based and but just 1% came from work, internships or volunteering, school alumni, neighbors or faith communities.

Data like these don’t just diagnose a gap; they hand students and counselors a starting point to act on it, surfacing potential guides and mentors in students’ lives who would otherwise stay invisible.

Second, connection has to feel authentic. Even after students identify who鈥檚 in their corner (and who they might be missing), it’s often hard to get them to engage with those connections. The thing that mattered most: authenticity. Students didn鈥檛 want outreach to feel transactional or one-sided. 

Overcoming that involved creating content in which students talk about the benefits of networking in their own words, rather than adults explaining it to them. For example, Reach Pathways recorded videos of students describing how their relationships helped them accomplish their goals. Other platforms found it was critical not to force students to make an ask before they feel ready. For example, ESAI ‘s team discovered that after identifying “people in their corner,” over half (53%) of students first wanted to express gratitude to those supporters before asking them for something. Only 14% made an outright request for help. 

In other words, students are more likely to turn toward their networks if they see their peers doing so, and if they can start real gratitude 鈥� not with a premature request.    

Third, students need help turning relationships into sources of support. Even with more emphasis on authenticity, many students still reported that connecting with people and asking for help is daunting. Students wanted more assistance in reaching out and meeting the right people to support their college and career aspirations. 

To address that, some platforms, like Climb Together, Roadtrip Nation and FutureFit AI, built chatbots to coach students in seeking help, offering the chance to draft emails and even rehearse conversations with industry professionals. (Unlike most college and career chatbots, these tools weren’t meant to provide postsecondary advice 鈥� they were designed to build the confidence to reach a real person.) Across the board, students in the pilots using these chatbots reported modest increases in awareness of the networks around them and confidence in reaching out for help.

Other tools sought to curb anxiety by helping adults, like counselors and educators, step in to offer warm introductions. For example, Overgrad, a college and career planning platform, piloted an alumni directory to help counselors connect students with recent graduates in the colleges or industries they hoped to pursue. 

Taken together, the three trends show that a many-to-one advising model isn’t just a nice idea 鈥� it’s already taking shape with AI tools specifically designed to foster, rather than shortcut, connection. Platforms can help students see their networks, engage them without it feeling transactional and get the coaching or introduction that turns a contact into a helpful connection.

What’s possible, however, isn’t inevitable. To date, no state-level request for proposals 鈥� the documents that steer what ed tech companies actually build 鈥� lists stronger student networks as a desired outcome for college and career advising tools. Even states and districts that require postsecondary plans rarely ask whether a student can name who will help carry that plan out.

That needs to change. States and districts should demand that advising technology help students identify, strengthen and expand the human networks around them and measure whether those networks actually grow.

We could wait 30 years for the counselor ratio to reach 250:1. Or we could start building toward a different ratio altogether: many people, supporting every one student.

Now, Illinois providers aren鈥檛 getting written up by the state for failing to carry quarters, but the fact that they could be because this outdated regulation has remained in the state鈥檚 licensing manual is problematic.

Childcare regulation is an active topic across many state legislatures and now, with the newly proposed Head Start rule, at the federal level as well. Every state has its , and stakeholders increasingly see streamlining regulations 鈥� while preserving health and safety standards 鈥� as one key to a healthier childcare system. As policymakers take steps to reform childcare regulation, they need to not only get rid of outdated rules, but also consider that interpretation and implementation drive how a regulation plays out in practice. 

Take fire code regulations, for example, which are set at the state and local level, and are core to child safety. To become licensed in any state, a childcare program must be compliant with these regulations, but that can be a complicated process, or even a barrier to entry. A 2025 about California鈥檚 childcare sector published by the Goldman School of Public Policy at University of California, Berkeley found that inconsistency in messaging and interpretation were widespread. 

Madeline Bradshaw, the report鈥檚 author, noted that 鈥淧roviders participating in this research consistently reported receiving conflicting information from fire officials and licensing agencies about what fire safety requirements apply to their specific childcare settings鈥� and that many 鈥渞eferenced receiving inconsistent messaging or inconsistent information, whether between fire officials at the state and local levels or even among fire officials within the same department.鈥� California also ran into issues in 2023, when a lack of communication about a statewide building code update created confusion between what fire marshals and state licensors required. That and left some on the hook for costly renovations in order to become compliant.

This is not a problem endemic to one specific state, though. This year, Colorado childcare owner RB Fast her Kafka-esque experience trying to expand her program by opening a new center. Confusion and conflicting directions from the city鈥檚 planning, zoning and fire departments have led to significant delays, financial hardship for her and her staff, and has prevented her from serving more families, she shared. 

In April, a report published by Opportunities Exchange, a nonprofit consulting group focused on early care and education, of a Massachusetts provider who 鈥渋dentified a classroom space that met the 35 square foot of usable space per child required by their childcare licensing authority.鈥� The report went on to explain that the provider 鈥� later learned that the local building occupancy code required 35 square feet per person, including adults. The discrepancy was not identified until renovations were well underway, ultimately forcing the provider to reduce enrollment capacity and absorb lost time and income.鈥� 

Beyond fire and building codes, which apply to many industries, there are unique regulatory interpretations that come into play specifically for childcare programs 鈥� and perhaps none have been in the news this year more than one about bananas. Rep. Marie Gluesenkamp Perez, a Democrat from Washington state, raised the issue when she introduced the Cutting Red Tape on Child Care Providers Act. Colloquially known as the 鈥渂anana bill,鈥� the measure would prohibit states from creating barriers to preparing fresh fruit and vegetables, including washing, peeling and cutting produce. On April 30, the U.S. House passed a large agricultural 鈥溾�� that incorporated provisions of the banana bill.

The banana kerfuffle stemmed from a Washington state requiring childcare programs to have multiple sinks if providers prepare and serve food and to have at least eight feet between that food preparation area and the sink used for handwashing after diaper changes. The rule was intended to avoid cross-contamination, but it鈥檚 been for being interpreted by certain state inspectors as requiring the equivalent of a commercial kitchen in order to peel and slice bananas. Even though a spokesperson from the state鈥檚 Department of Children, Youth, and Families the Department 鈥渉as never penalized a childcare provider for incorrectly serving fruit,鈥� the example has become an avatar .

Even when the scope of a regulation is clear, the capacity of a given governing agency to play their part can create bottlenecks. Consider the fingerprint background check requirement for new childcare employees, a step that is not particularly open to interpretation. A that requires background checks be processed through two state agencies 鈥� Georgia鈥檚 Department of Early Care and Learning and the Georgia Bureau of Investigation 鈥� is in some cases causing weeks-long delays in getting new hires through the process. One provider having four new hires stuck waiting for their background check forms to be processed. 

However, this kind of regulation isn鈥檛 always harmful to providers: of new background check requirements in Minnesota that went into effect in 2017 found that those requirements were not associated with increased closures among licensed family childcare providers and in fact appear correlated with fewer closures, suggesting that the implementation of those regulations has gone far smoother.

The disparate experiences of providers 鈥� often shaped by their geographic location or which inspector shows up 鈥� points to the need for local, state, and federal leaders to focus not only on the content of the regulation book, but how regulations are playing out in practice. If the goal of childcare regulation is to shape a system that promotes health, safety and quality with abundant supply, then policymakers must think beyond the words on the page and consider how rules and regulations are being implemented in everyday programs. 

Ensuring that relevant departments have consistent guidance, are adequately staffed, , and have updated technology in order to process forms in a timely manner is core to effective rollout. State policies should also be reviewed regularly, with an eye toward outdated or out-of-touch requirements that may hinder providers鈥� ability to best serve children and families. And when a new regulation is put into play, clarity and coordination should be the watchwords. 

The urban system, just off one of Los Angeles鈥� major freeways, was headed for state takeover and had a 58% graduation rate. When the opening was posted, 鈥淚 thought, 鈥楥ompton, I don’t want to be in Compton,鈥� 鈥� Brawley said.

But Brawley saw a 鈥減ocket of success鈥� at some elementary schools that he could build on. Accepting the job in 2012, he instituted a set of routines, like in-school tutoring and frequent multiplication practice. Weekly quizzes let teachers know precisely which students need extra help.

Fourteen years later, the district, with a 91% poverty rate, is one of the nation鈥檚 .

鈥淚f you go back 15, 20 years ago, Compton was not the place where most parents would have kept their kids,鈥� he said. In fact, it was the first district in California where families tried to convert a low-performing elementary school into a charter under a . 鈥淣ow, we see a reversal.鈥�

The district is also one of only 78, out of the nation鈥檚 500 largest, that has maintained consistent leadership at the top since the pandemic, according to a from ILO Group, a consulting firm. At the state level, all but seven have changed education chiefs at least once, with more turnover coming once new governors take office next year.

As in Compton, ILO鈥檚 data shows, students are better off when district leaders stay longer.

In those with no leadership changes between 2019 and 2025, kids performed better in reading and math 鈥� showing at least a month of extra learning 鈥� than those in districts with turnover. In women-led districts, the advantage was nearly two extra months of learning in math, based on the Stanford Education Data Archive, a comparable measure of student learning across states. 

鈥淪tability really matters within a community,鈥� said Julia Rafal-Baer, the ILO Group鈥檚 CEO. In those with high turnover, the kids who were in kindergarten at the start of the pandemic have likely seen multiple reading programs 鈥渙r their parents were asked to start one more strategic planning process. It gets old.鈥�

Other districts in the top 500, sometimes embroiled in controversy, have experienced multiple leadership changes since the pandemic. , for example, is on its fourth chief since 2020. Former Superintendent Devon Horton was on charges that he assaulted his wife in front of his two children. 

The East Baton Rouge district in Louisiana is also on its fourth superintendent since 2020, with current leader Lamont Cole facing charges for bribery and money laundering stemming from his time as a . He denies the accusations, and board members say they support him. But they鈥檝e also tightened up . 

Overall, ILO鈥檚 latest review shows that churn is down for the first time since the pandemic. Last year, it appeared that districts had reached a 鈥渘ew normal,鈥� with turnover ranging from 20% to 23% for five years straight. But this year, among the top 500, it has dropped to 17%, which is closer to the typical pre-COVID levels of reported by AASA, the School Superintendents Association.

Rafal-Baer cautioned that while the 鈥渃arousel of leadership seems to have slowed down,鈥� the results are just a snapshot. 鈥淭his isn’t a return to normal so much as the system finally catching its breath.鈥�

The decline in turnover, she added, could point to the current financial constraints on districts as they adjust to the end of federal relief funds and ongoing declines in enrollment.

鈥淭hese searches are very expensive,鈥� she said. A recently spent about $48,000 to find a new leader, while the Clark County district鈥檚 search in 2024 . 鈥淭here may be less of a desire to tell your community, when you’re cutting assistant principals, that you’re now going to spend money on a search firm.鈥� 

A 鈥榝lashpoint鈥�

Rachel White, an associate professor at the University of Texas at Austin, and founder of a on school superintendents, suggested the pandemic years were an anomaly. School board fights over COVID-related closures, masks and culture war issues 鈥渨ere obviously quite volatile,鈥� she said, and in multiple districts, led to superintendents being abruptly dismissed. 

That was 鈥渉opefully a once-in-a-lifetime flashpoint,鈥� she said. 鈥淢aybe school boards 鈥� are less likely to do away with the superintendent who they disagree with ideologically on one thing.鈥� 

Her own research on superintendent turnover echoes connections ILO made between student learning and consistent leadership. While studies prior to the pandemic showed of turnover on student outcomes, 鈥渃hronic instability鈥� can hit neediest students the hardest, White said. 

According to a new , she found that students in high-poverty districts with repeated leadership turnover were about two months of learning behind in math and six weeks behind in reading compared with those in systems with the same leader since 2019.

Leaders who stay in a district longer are more likely to transfer knowledge throughout the organization, she said, and often build up trust with the public.

鈥淭he longer a superintendent stays, the more people believe they are committed to that community,鈥� she said. 鈥淵ou can take some risks. It鈥檚 really important to be able to say, 鈥楬ey, this might not work out, but I think there’s potentially some return on investment here.鈥� 鈥� 

Policy experts like to talk about 鈥渄urable鈥� learning and success for schools. , a senior fellow at the conservative American Enterprise Institute, says that not only is leadership churn 鈥渙ne of the greatest threats to durability,鈥� but that school boards need superintendents who view instruction as the chief priority, not just one of many initiatives.

Brawley, who was a science teacher and principal in other districts before moving into leadership, has such a 鈥渟trong convictions鈥� about improving math and reading, White said, that he鈥檚 been able to keep the district moving forward despite other political issues that superintendents often navigate. 

鈥淭here鈥檚 a real belief that these students are brilliant and they just need the right resources and a stable teacher workforce,鈥� she said. 

His methods aren鈥檛 popular with everyone. The Compton teachers union president has on testing. But Cecilia McDuffie, principal of Foster Elementary, said the emphasis on data, combined with practices implemented at all schools, has helped her students rise from the bottom.

On a recent morning, a week after school started, Foster students spent time responding to the writing prompt: What do you like about your teacher? Leaders increased their focus on writing 鈥� and significantly cut back on screen time 鈥�  after observing that students couldn鈥檛 recall what had been taught. 

鈥淲e know that writing elicits a connection,鈥� Brawley said. 鈥淚f you don’t write it down, you’re not really learning it.鈥� 

Foster was not a 鈥減ocket of success鈥� when Brawley arrived in Compton. In 2014, less than a quarter of students met or exceeded state standards in reading and math. Last school year, 77% of students scored that high in those subjects, and 73% reached that level in science, nearly hitting the goal of 75%.

McDuffie said that Brawley has created systems that will outlast him.

鈥淚f he were to leave tomorrow, I would know that I always need to have a plan. I need to always refine my plan based on data,鈥� she said. 鈥淎nd I need to start all my interventions early. You can’t wait until March.鈥�

While ILO鈥檚 data captures the pandemic period, some districts, like Bridgeport, Connecticut, have experienced frequent turnover across a much longer period. Since 2005, the district has had eight superintendents, and former leader Carmela Levy-David left in late 2024 after a near-unanimous from the teachers union. Each transition 鈥渃arries some costs,鈥� said Joseph Sokolovic, vice-chair of the board. 

鈥淣ew leaders often bring new priorities, and different approaches to implement those priorities,鈥� he said. 鈥淐ommunity and board relationships must be rebuilt. Trust must be earned again.鈥�

But he said it鈥檚 important to put the instability in context. Two turnovers occurred while the district was . The district also has one of the highest-poverty rates in the state, and spends than wealthier districts like Greenwich, which has seen even in the past 20 years. 

鈥淣o superintendent, regardless of talent, can eliminate concentrated poverty or erase decades of economic neglect,鈥� Sokolovic said. With the district currently conducting another search, he said the district needs 鈥渁 leader willing to commit for the long term, someone who understands the complexities of an urban district and is willing to confront difficult issues directly.鈥�

鈥楻oute to the superintendency鈥�

School boards should also look for instructional expertise, said Rafal-Baer.

A women-owned organization, ILO Group keeps close track of where women are becoming district chiefs and their routes to the position. shows that women are twice as likely as men to have an academic post, like curriculum specialist, on their resume. But just a handful of current superintendents came from a position leading curriculum and instruction.

“Given where student outcomes stand right now, you would expect the academics seat to be the surest route to the superintendency. It turns out to be one of the rarest,鈥� she said. 鈥淏oards keep saying instruction is the priority. Their hiring says otherwise.”

Overall, 34% of superintendents in the top 500 districts are women, a 1 percentage point increase since last year and a 6-point jump since 2019. Fifty-one of the nation鈥檚 women superintendents are also a first of some kind in their districts 鈥� first woman superintendent, first Black woman or first Latina superintendent. California has the most, with 11 leaders who fit one of those descriptions, while Texas has six.

In 2018, when the Aldine Independent School District, near Houston, was looking for a new superintendent, two of the board members wanted a Hispanic leader. With a 73% Hispanic population, Superintendent LaTonya Goffney, who is Black, understood why. 

鈥淚 didn鈥檛 take it personally,鈥� she said. 鈥淏ut I鈥檝e been intentional about building relationships and connecting with the community.鈥�

As another one of the 78 districts that has kept the same leader since the pandemic, more than neighboring districts to bounce back from academic declines. Too many inexperienced teachers was one reason, an . But the board gave Goffney more time and in 2022 through next year.

The district in state accountability rankings, but the number of F-rated schools has fallen from 21 since 2023, and the district鈥檚 overall score increased this year from .

Still, in a state where districts with low-performing schools are increasingly , Goffney feels constant pressure to show steady progress. As enrollment begins to decline in the state, the district sees competition not just from charter schools and a new private school choice program, but from neighboring districts trying to 鈥渃herry pick鈥� Aldine鈥檚 students, she said.

鈥淢y focus, she said, 鈥渋s on making sure that Aldine is the best choice.鈥�

All summer, Dr. Marvia Jones worried over the data.

Jones, director of the Kansas City Health Department in Missouri, read reports showing that not enough public school students were up-to-date with their vaccinations in time for back to school. She knew kids risked being sent home when classes resumed in late August 鈥� a scenario that would disrupt not just their learning but create a logistical nightmare for working families.

So Jones scheduled more vaccine clinics, which she brought to church picnics and community events, saving residents a trip to the health department. She extended clinic hours to welcome parents with non-traditional work hours.

But by mid-August, traffic for back-to-school vaccinations was still down between 20 and 30 percent, according to Jones. She scheduled a last-minute news conference with nursing staff from Kansas City Public Schools to plead with parents to immunize their children. The speakers also clarified from President Donald Trump aimed at reducing the number of recommended childhood vaccines had not actually changed school mandates in Missouri.

鈥淚 understand having a deluge of information from many sources and just being confused and having concerns,鈥� Jones said at the news conference. 鈥淭here鈥檚 no judgment in that.鈥�

Within days, the department saw a spike in vaccinations. Jones felt relieved.

鈥淚 was happy and just really elated to know that some aspects of our public health work 鈥� despite all the stuff about lack of trust and disintegration of faith in the government 鈥� that we can do some things that still speak to people,鈥� she told The 19th.

As children around the country return to the classroom for a back-to-school season that typically runs , public health officials like Jones are helping families navigate how best to prepare for the surge of back-to-school illnesses. But they鈥檙e doing so while countering misinformation from the Trump administration about the safety and effectiveness of vaccines, which medical groups worry is contributing to declining vaccination rates among school-aged children.

鈥淩ight now, local health departments are literally standing in the gap as our state health departments are taking on roles usually led by the federal government, and especially [the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention],鈥� said Dr. Michelle Taylor, commissioner of health for the Baltimore City Health Department and chair of the , a national organization that coordinates with officials from major metropolitan health departments.

from the CDC shows that vaccination rates for routine vaccines continue to decline among kindergartners 鈥� including rates for the measles-mumps-rubella (MMR) vaccine, which remain below those needed for herd immunity. Requests for vaccine exemptions are also rising, with 4.2 percent of kindergartners receiving them compared with 3.6 percent the previous year.

鈥淥verall we鈥檙e not seeing what we want to see,鈥� Jones said. 鈥淲e are not going in the right direction.鈥�

The respiratory virus season 鈥� which starts in the fall and ends in early spring 鈥� is expected to include the circulation of flu, COVID-19 and RSV. Nearly 200 children died last season from flu-related complications, and most cases involved unvaccinated children.

Already, some school districts are on high alert. Last month, one in South Texas as its reason for canceling classes for two days. In Louisiana, a middle school after dozens of teachers and students reported having COVID. 

Lynn Nelson is president of the National Association of School Nurses, an organization that provides guidance, resources and professional development to nearly 20,000 school nurses across the country. She said it鈥檚 not unusual for students to get sick within the first few weeks of school after a summer or spring break that often involves travel.

鈥淭he difference now is with the reduced vaccination rates 鈥� and they鈥檙e significantly reduced for almost everything now, to below what we call herd immunity level 鈥� we鈥檙e going to be seeing more vaccine-preventable illnesses come back to school as kids come back,鈥� she said.  

The number of confirmed in the United States has reached more than 3,100 this year. That figure toppled the number of cases reported in all of 2025, and some public health experts believe it may be an undercount.

鈥淔or some diseases like measles, even a small decrease in vaccination rates can lead to more outbreaks of disease because community immunity requires over 95 percent of susceptible individuals to be immunized,鈥� said Dr. Andrew D. Racine, president of the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP), after the CDC data release. 鈥淭his risk is real: The United States is experiencing a 35-year high for measles cases as federal officials continue to elevate misleading and disproven information about vaccines, inserting unnecessary fear and confusion into families鈥� decision making.鈥�

Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr., who co-founded an anti-vaccine organization before being appointed by Trump, announced plans in January to recategorize some childhood vaccines. Shots used to protect against flu, COVID and RSV 鈥� previously recommended for all children 鈥� would now be recommended only for high-risk children or after extra consultation with doctors. An ongoing lawsuit brought by AAP and other medical groups challenged the changes, which did not go into effect. AAP still recommends all of those vaccines.

Kennedy has recommended the MMR vaccine, but also shared misleading information about its safety. with Pennsylvania officials, including Democratic Gov. Josh Shapiro, after the state health department reported two measles-associated deaths involving infants. Kennedy cases, which are the first deaths involving measles reported in the country this year.

Dr. David Margolius, director of the Cleveland Department of Public Health, said public health officials are 鈥渟wimming against a strong current鈥� of misinformation from the White House and the back-and-forth headlines around vaccines and measles that ensue. During an executive order signing last month, Trump and expressed interest in splitting the typically two-shot series 鈥� a proposal that is not logistically possible anytime soon.

鈥淭he current against us is strong, and we鈥檙e paddling as hard as we can,鈥� Margolius said. 鈥淚t would just be a heck of a lot easier to make progress if the White House started speaking the truth and helping to be part of the solution instead of being part of the problem.鈥�

While vaccination rates in Ohio have fallen, Cleveland is making improvements 鈥� rates for children entering kindergarten there have jumped from 68 percent a few years ago to 76 percent this past school year. The rate for the MMR vaccines for children entering kindergarten is in the low 80s, still below herd immunity. Margolius credits building community trust and bolstering federally qualified health centers for expanding access to vaccines. There are also more embedded .

鈥淲e鈥檝e improved, but obviously have a long way to go to where we want to be,鈥� he said.

Public health officials and major medical groups recommend that parents continue to consult with their pediatrician or family physician about vaccines, including about their plans for flu and COVID shots as the respiratory virus season begins in earnest in a few weeks. New polling data released in August indicated that .

Nelson, who is also a nurse administrator in Washington state, said most parents vaccinate their children in the end, once they get solid information from their healthcare provider or school nurse. But the lag time is having a real impact on public health, especially in rural communities with reduced urgent care services.

鈥淭here鈥檚 just so much misinformation about [vaccines] out there, that it slows everything down and people wait longer,鈥� she said. 鈥淎nd when influenza or COVID hits your community, or RSV or pertussis, it might be too late.鈥�

Illness or the threat of disease exposure can be disruptive to schooling and working families. Quarantine rules can send a child home for days or weeks, causing a ripple effect on childcare responsibilities for parents in a country that does not have federally mandated paid sick time. Jones in Kansas City worries about the fragility of a system that relies on children never getting sick.

鈥淲hat happens when your child is sick for four days?鈥� she said. 鈥淒oes another older kid have to stay home and care for them? Does someone have to miss work? Does someone lose pay? Does someone else get sick? Does an older relative that鈥檚 living with them now have to be the childcare provider? And how does that put them at risk, particularly for families that are already unstable in some way 鈥� whether it鈥檚 due to health or socioeconomic status. So all of these things are interplaying together.鈥�

was originally reported by Barbara Rodriguez of . .

I was an assistant principal at the time, popping into dozens of classes each month, and I remember thinking: This is both the hardest and most important part of teaching. It鈥檚 almost like watching Olympic athletes; they make their sport look easy, and great teachers do the same.

The instinct Mrs. Johnson displayed 鈥� noticing what a student needs and responding in the learning moment 鈥� is a practice called responsive teaching. It isn’t new, as teachers have always adapted on the fly. We reteach a concept when someone looks confused, pull a small group together mid-lesson, catch a student who鈥檚 uncharacteristically quiet and check in before it becomes a pattern. In short, teacher judgment is the engine behind responsive instruction. 

But that judgment is now being asked to cover more ground, with less support to draw on. If schools want to address the issues facing education today, they need to empower teachers to see and respond to every individual in real time 鈥� without adding to their workload or stress. 

Teachers face mounting, intersecting challenges

Classrooms today hold a wider range of needs than ever. from this year shows that even before the pandemic, elementary classrooms were academically diverse: In a typical fifth-grade class, only about a quarter of students were on track for grade-level proficiency. After the pandemic, that overall proficiency level hasn’t changed dramatically, but the depth of the gap has. Lower-achieving students are now further behind and need accelerated growth just to catch up by year鈥檚 end.听

Practically, that means teachers are managing abilities that are further apart than they used to be in classes that, especially in upper grades, might contain 30 or 40 students.

At the same time, teachers are being asked to cover more than academics. Kids walk in carrying social and emotional weight that shapes their ability to learn, and it鈥檚 up to the teacher to make sure they succeed. In fact, when TPT (a marketplace for classroom resources, thousands of educators this summer, meeting emotional and behavioral needs was their top concern, even above academics.

There鈥檚 no question over whether educators are capable of helping every student thrive. Teachers like Mrs. Johnson don鈥檛 need to dig through yet another data system to know their classes. But they do need the time and support to act on their judgment, for every student, all day, without sacrificing their own happiness or passion for the job.

Helping teachers scale what they鈥檝e always done instinctively 

Enabling responsive teaching in today鈥檚 landscape doesn鈥檛 have to be complicated. 

It can start with something straightforward and often overlooked: encouraging teachers to build routines that create space for judgment to work. The best teachers I鈥檝e seen add intentional structure into the day, to help kids stay in the learning mindset. 

I visited a public school in New York City where every student wrote a personal goal on a sticky note each morning, something like 鈥淚’m going to be kind today鈥� or 鈥淚鈥檒l do well on my math test,鈥� and circled back to it before dismissal with their teachers. Another simple practice is pairing students with different classmates for a few minutes of guided conversation before class or between topics.

Neither takes more than five or 10 minutes or requires a new program. The value is in giving teachers a read on their students throughout the school day, while also giving students practice naming what they need.

Technology has a role here too, if done right. It鈥檚 important to remember data points don鈥檛 capture everything. An assessment score won鈥檛 convey that a student did poorly on a quiz because he was distracted about a field trip that afternoon, or that a tough week had more to do with what鈥檚 going on at home than the material. Teachers are able to bring those insights because they know their students.  

What technology can do when it鈥檚 thoughtfully designed is sharpen the teachers鈥� hunches by providing immediate insight into which skill students understand. It can flag issues even before they鈥檙e visible, then help teachers respond right away by offering personalized next steps to deepen learning for every student. In other words, tech doesn鈥檛 override judgment, but it should make exercising that judgment faster, more precise and scalable.

With any new tech, rolling it out correctly is the most important piece. I鈥檝e seen effective tools and smart initiatives fail because teachers were trained once and left to figure out the actual usage alone. Instead, schools should build in ongoing support: a dedicated tech leader who can answer a quick question, regular time for teachers to explore resources and compare notes, and leadership that rigorously assesses what鈥檚 working and actually drops what isn鈥檛. 

None of this is complex, but it鈥檚 not going to happen without effort. It requires administrators to protect teachers鈥� expertise as fiercely as they protect instructional minutes, to resist piling on disparate tools that lead to fatigue more than results, and to treat teacher judgment as the thing worth building systems around rather than a variable to be managed by those systems.

If we focus on making responsive teaching easily achievable in every classroom, we have a real opportunity to improve outcomes for our students while making life better for teachers 鈥� and that benefits everyone.

In an effort to keep the Austin school district independent, Mayor Kirk Watson is pushing to close two chronically-failing middle schools that triggered the state鈥檚 takeover law. He鈥檒l need parents鈥� help to do it.

Watson鈥檚 plan, released in his newsletter Wednesday morning, cites a little-known state rule that would give weight to a parent petition asking for the schools鈥� closure.

Last month, both Webb and Burnet middle schools received preliminary fifth failing accountability ratings from the Texas Education Agency for the 2025-26 school year, triggering state intervention that could close the schools or see a board of managers replace the elected school board. Austin ISD has until Sept. 11 to appeal the preliminary ratings, but if either rating becomes final the state is mandated under law to intervene. The manner of intervention is up to Education Commissioner Mike Morath.

However, Watson cites a caveat in the state education code which mandates Morath follow the will of a parent petition submitted to TEA if the parents of a majority of enrolled students request closure of the schools instead of a district-wide takeover. The plan comes at a high-stakes moment for Austin ISD. TEA declined the district鈥檚 plan to avoid takeover by surrendering control of three failing schools to an external operator earlier this year. Watson told Austin Current he remained optimistic that takeover was not the only option left for Austin ISD and was in frequent talks with Austin ISD leadership over potential outcomes.

鈥淭exas law gives the parents at Webb and Burnet a powerful voice,鈥� Watson鈥檚 statement said Wednesday. 鈥淭hat gives this community a path to act instead of simply waiting for something to happen to us. It gives families most impacted a say in what comes next.鈥�

A to close the schools instead of taking over the district would have to be signed by the parents of the majority of students enrolled at each failing school and submitted to Superintendent Matias Segura for validation by Oct. 15. Segura would then have to submit a validated copy to Morath no later than Dec. 1. Morath would be obligated to order the action requested by the parents.

If Austin ISD鈥檚 board of trustees presents a written request to the commissioner opposing the parent petition, the commissioner could choose to side with the board.

Watson said if the state takes over Austin ISD, Burnet and Webb, as well as other unspecified district campuses, would likely be closed. He said, under his proposed plan, he trusts Segura and the board to create a new school in the $158 million building being built at the site of Burnet Middle School to serve the communities of the closed schools.

As proof of Austin鈥檚 progress, Watson cited the district鈥檚 rise to a B overall rating, its highest in years, in this year鈥檚 accountability ratings, as well as a 42% increase in A and B rated campuses since 2024.

It is not immediately known if Austin ISD leaders were involved in developing the mayor鈥檚 proposal, or whether the Texas Education Agency is aware of it. Austin ISD and the Texas Education Agency did not immediately respond to a request for comment at the time of publication.

Last week, Austin ISD spokesperson Cristina Nguyen told Austin Current that Austin ISD leaders maintain regular communication with the city鈥檚 leadership to keep them apprised of what is happening in the Austin school district.

This first appeared on .

She created the program in 1995, inspired in part by her father, who could not read or write. What began as an effort to put books into the hands of children in her Tennessee community became an international program that has distributed millions of free books.

Her idea was simple: introduce youngsters to good books. But its simplicity should not obscure its significance. A book in a child鈥檚 mailbox is more than a book. It can become a conversation between parent and child, a bedtime ritual, a story read repeatedly. It can open hearts and minds and change a child鈥檚 understanding of what books and reading are for.

That distinction has shaped my life and work. As a professor at the Warner School of Education and Human Development at the University of Rochester, where I focus on reading and literacy, I have spent my career thinking about how children learn to read. Through my work with Rochester children and families 鈥� including , Project READ and other literacy initiatives 鈥� I have also learned that teaching reading is only part of the work.

Helping children grow up to love books and enjoy reading is equally important. 

I have watched reluctant readers become increasingly enthusiastic when they are given meaningful choices about what they read. I have seen confidence grow as their skills develop, and I have seen the joy that comes when children find books that reflect their own lives, questions, and experiences. Those moments remind me that motivation and joy are part of how literacy grows.

Our public conversation about reading can become overly focused on scores, reading levels and achievement gaps. Those measures matter. Children deserve excellent reading instruction, and schools must be accountable for providing it. However, a reading score cannot tell whether a child thinks of books as something they want to return to 鈥� or whether reading has become a source of curiosity rather than simply another school task. A child can learn how to read without yet knowing why reading matters. 

Literacy is foundational because it gives children access to knowledge, information and opportunities in a world increasingly saturated with text. Reading also gives children something less easily measured: language to express their experiences and access to worlds beyond their own. Books can help children recognize themselves, encounter people unlike themselves, ask better questions and imagine new possibilities.

That is why access to books is not a sentimental issue. It is an issue of opportunity.

It鈥檚 distressing that legislators in four states 鈥� Indiana, Missouri, Maine and Washington 鈥� are looking to cut public funding for Parton鈥檚 program.

For those who work in literacy, the lesson Parton imparted with her program is both simple and demanding. We need strong reading instruction, skilled teachers, accessible libraries and community programs that reach families where they are. But we also need to create the conditions in which children can discover the pleasure of reading and recognize themselves as readers. The goal is not simply to produce children who can read. It is to help children become readers. 

Parton gave millions of children a place to begin that journey. Our responsibility is to ensure every child discovers the gifts of becoming a reader.

OKLAHOMA CITY 鈥� A federal appeals court has upheld and limited the interpretation of a controversial Oklahoma law impacting public school teaching on race and gender.

In a split Wednesday, the Tenth Circuit Court of Appeals decided House Bill 1775 appropriately bars Oklahoma public schools from teaching certain discriminatory concepts as if they are facts. The decision overturned a from a U.S. district judge in Oklahoma City federal court, who had blocked a few portions of the law for vagueness.

A group of Oklahoma students, teachers, college professors and activists who sued to overturn the 2021 law contended HB 1775 is overly vague and unconstitutionally censors classroom discussions. 

The law prohibits schools from requiring or making part of a course concepts such as one race being superior to another race, that individuals bear responsibility for past actions by others of their race or sex, and that students should feel discomfort or guilt over their race or sex.

Schools face a downgrade to their accreditation and teachers risk a certification penalty for violating HB 1775.

To violate the law, a teacher would have to present the banned concepts as fact, Tenth Circuit judges Gregory A. Phillips and Harris L. Hartz decided in their majority opinion.

鈥淎part from any prohibited racist or sexist editorializing, teachers remain free to instruct about historical or popular issues, and students remain free to draw their own conclusions,鈥� Phillips wrote.

The third member of the three-judge appellate panel, Nancy L. Moritz, said the law should have been struck down 鈥渋n full.鈥� The majority opinion 鈥渋mpermissibly rewrites the statute鈥� to clarify an unconstitutionally vague law, she wrote in her dissenting opinion.

The text of HB 1775 doesn鈥檛 specify that to violate the law educators must endorse a prohibited statement, Moritz wrote. Teachers could unintentionally make a banned concept part of a course 鈥渢hrough discussion, by responding to questions, and in myriad other ways, any of which could violate the law,鈥� she wrote.

Attorneys on both sides of the case celebrated the Tenth Circuit鈥檚 majority opinion.

The American Civil Liberties Union, representing the plaintiffs, said the judges鈥� narrow interpretation of the law means HB 1775 no longer impedes inclusive classroom discussions on race and gender.

鈥淥klahoma students deserve a nuanced education of race, gender, and American history,鈥� ACLU of Oklahoma legal director Megan Lambert said. 鈥淭his ruling narrowed Oklahoma鈥檚 censorship law out of existence by interpreting it to only prohibit educators from affirmatively encouraging discrimination.鈥�

Attorney General Gentner Drummond, whose office defended the law, called the decision a first-in-the-nation appellate victory.

鈥淭his is a significant win for Oklahoma and affirms a simple principle: every Oklahoma student deserves to be treated as an individual, not defined or divided by race or sex,鈥� he said. 鈥淥klahoma teachers do important work every day, and the court has given them clarity to keep doing it well.鈥�

With the Tenth Circuit decision on the preliminary injunction entered, the case now returns to Oklahoma City federal court.

is part of States Newsroom, a nonprofit news network supported by grants and a coalition of donors as a 501c(3) public charity. Oklahoma Voice maintains editorial independence. Contact Editor Janelle Stecklein for questions: info@oklahomavoice.com.

鈥淚 don鈥檛 really think most of my classes that I took in high school I have in my brain anymore,鈥� she told researchers who authored the , an annual report conducted by Gallup and the Walton Family Foundation about Gen-Z鈥檚 attitude toward school and life after high school.

What stuck with her, however, were the teachers that 鈥渕ade an impact,鈥� and who she maintains relationships with years later. 

Her response mirrors the feelings of many of the students in her age group 鈥� one of thousands of Gen-Z students and young adults who were recently polled by Gallup in late May and early June of this year.

The poll included nearly 3,200 people between the ages of 14 and 29, with more than 1,700 of respondents currently enrolled in middle or high school.  

The survey found student engagement, enjoyment toward school and hopefulness for the future strongly correlated with a child鈥檚 relationship with their teachers and whether they felt they belonged at school.

But, 鈥渦nfortunately, we found that in that respect,鈥� said Zach Hrynowski, a senior educator researcher at Gallup, 鈥渢here are a lot of students who are reporting that they don鈥檛 have that experience.鈥欌��

Since 2023, engagement has steadily increased, with 51% of Gen-Z students likely to agree or strongly agree that school allows them to do their best, a 14 percentage point increase over the last four years. Students in 2026 are 10 percentage points more likely to feel challenged by schoolwork (from 50% in 2023 to 60%) and six points (57% vs 63%) more likely to say teachers communicate the importance of what they鈥檙e learning. 

But even with several engagement trends upward, there was no 鈥渕eaningful change in the percentage of students who agree they have learned something interesting in the past week,鈥� the report said.

While the majority of students reported positive school experiences, including reports of having good relationships with teachers, a large number of kids are still being left behind 鈥� with 40% of students saying their classwork is not interesting and that they did not agree that they feel prepared for the future.

鈥淭his year鈥檚 findings reiterate that many students continue to struggle with their enjoyment of and engagement at school,鈥� the report said. 鈥淔or these students, the problem is not that some of their courses are tedious or irrelevant to their future; rather, they say that nothing at school interests them, and they struggle to find outlets to do what they are naturally good at.鈥�

Forty-eight percent of students said they didn鈥檛 enjoy going to school most or all days and nearly half of Gen-Z students (49%) said school doesn鈥檛 鈥渁llow them to do what they do best every day鈥� 鈥� which is an improvement from 63% in survey results in 2023, the report said, but still high. 

Researchers found student engagement was connected to 鈥渟everal larger outcomes,鈥� including reporting higher satisfaction with their quality of life and what鈥檚 to come in the future. Gen-Z students who felt more connected at school were five times more likely to look forward to school most days and feel prepared for the future compared to their peers who reported a lack of belonging.

This year’s survey further explored the teacher-student relationship and its impact deeper than previous reports  鈥� asking students about whether teachers knew about their interests, whether their classwork was tailored to their strengths, and 鈥渁t the most basic level, if you鈥檙e having a bad day in the classroom, do you have a teacher who would recognize that and check in on you?鈥� Hrynowski said.

鈥淲e knew from previous reports that what was happening in the classroom obviously is really important, and whether students feel interested and engaged in what they’re learning,鈥� he added. 鈥淲hat we also found this year, 鈥� [was] the statistical connection between the relationship that students have with their teachers and the extent they鈥檙e engaged in the classroom.鈥�

And many Gen-Z students reported struggling with building connections with the people around them.

About three in 10 said they didn鈥檛 belong at school, didn鈥檛 have an adult who regularly checked in on them and didn’t feel like they had someone at school who understood their interests or strengths. The gap also extended to peer relationships, with just 30% of children reporting they had things in common with most of their classmates, and even less (26%) saying they trusted most of their classmates.

鈥淚f you don鈥檛 feel like you belong in a classroom, you don鈥檛 feel comfortable speaking up, you don鈥檛 chat with your friends about something that you learned that was interesting to you, 鈥� then you鈥檙e really missing a critical aspect of the school experience,鈥� Hrynowski said.

Students who lack connection with their peers, educators and school work 鈥渁re notably less likely to feel prepared for their postgraduation future,鈥� the report said.

鈥淥ptimism about the future doesn’t always translate into preparedness. While 80% of Gen Z K-12 students say they have a great future ahead of them, only six in 10 feel prepared for it,鈥� the report found, adding that while the results from 2026 are a 17% increase from 2023, the gap continues to 鈥渨idens sharply along engagement lines.鈥�

Children who reported not having plans to go to college also had 鈥渟ignificantly fewer engaging experiences鈥� compared to their peers to plan to pursue a two or four year degree, the report said.

For kids pursuing higher education, 67% reported their teacher made classwork feel important, compared to only 56% of students who said they do not want to go to college. College-bound students were also at least 10 percentage points more likely to feel they belonged at school, feel as if they had an adult who recognized their talents and also felt encouraged to pursue their goals compared to their peers who did not plan to pursue higher education.

鈥淪ometimes when I bring [these] numbers up, folks say 鈥楾hat鈥檚 just the way school is. Some kids don鈥檛 belong. Some kids don鈥檛 feel like they fit in. 鈥� Some kids are good at school and some aren鈥檛. Some kids enjoy school and some don鈥檛, that鈥檚 just the way it is,鈥� 鈥� and I came at this report rejecting that notion,鈥� Hrynowski said. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 the way it is, but it definitely isn鈥檛 how it has to be.鈥�

He argued the student responses point to what kids need, what they鈥檙e asking for and what works for them, and that it鈥檚 up for districts and states to take the next steps to meet students where they are.

鈥淚 think the recipe is there. The roadmap is clear. If we want more students to be having [better] experiences, it starts with the teacher,鈥� Hrynowski said. 鈥淭he next question is: What do we need to do to help more teachers do that work? 鈥� How do we get more teachers doing the things that only teachers can do that reaches students, cultivates their interest, helps them feel balanced in a positive way and see why what they’re doing in the classroom today is relevant to something they want to do outside of it?鈥�

Disclosure: Walton Family Foundation provides financial support to 社区黑料.

Nationwide, nearly 40,000 Head Start jobs could be cut, affecting the program鈥檚 teachers, home visitors, child development specialists, family service workers and many other positions, according to an from Together for Head Start, a coalition of national, state and local organizations that formed in 2025 to protect and strengthen Head Start amid growing threats from the Trump administration. 

The analysis draws from projections made by the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services in its proposed rule, 鈥�,鈥� which was published on Aug. 7 and is now in a 60-day public comment period, set to end on Oct. 6.

Other impacts, the analysis found, include a 6% to 9% pay cut among some staff, including directors, fiscal officers and staff who oversee health services, as well as stagnant wages for teachers, even as they are expected to care for up to 32% more children. 

The proposed rule would also reduce healthcare services for children and families by up to , which could result in many families seeking out medical, dental and mental healthcare elsewhere, with some having to travel to access that care or, in some cases, going without it altogether.

To come up with these numbers, Together for Head Start analyzed projections detailed in the proposed rule change, which included a evaluating the potential costs, benefits and outcomes of the regulation if it were to be implemented. 

The proposed rule would give individual programs more discretion, but it鈥檚 hard to predict the precise impact, since some programs may make more changes to their operations than others. For that reason, HHS offers three scenario-based models for each regulation change over a five-year horizon: a low, primary and high estimate based on how many programs take advantage of the change. Together for Head Start used the high estimate scenario throughout its analysis. The group also used from Child Care Aware of America about the price and affordability of childcare to draw some conclusions. 

The administration mentions the word 鈥渇lexibility鈥� 160 times in its proposed rule, suggesting that fewer regulations and performance standards will give Head Start operators greater freedom in how they run their programs. Leaders at HHS are also quick to tout the they estimate would follow these changes by 2031. (The Head Start program is currently at about $12.4 billion annually.)

Staff involved in the leadership and operations of Head Start programs, however, have a much more bleak interpretation of the proposed overhaul. 

鈥淚t鈥檚 not a $2.2 billion savings. It鈥檚 a $2.2 billion cut in workforce and services,鈥� said Rhett Cecil, executive director of the Indiana Head Start Association, which is part of the Together for Head Start coalition.

In the analysis from Together for Head Start, which includes state-by-state impacts, Indiana is projected to lose nearly 600 jobs. That amounts to about 15% of the state鈥檚 Head Start workforce, Cecil said. The analysis also estimates that Indiana would face a $2.6 million decline in funding for healthcare services under the rule, and that each family accessing Head Start services could face an average annual increase of $622 in childcare costs per child. 

These changes, Cecil said, would 鈥渉andcuff鈥� families, particularly in rural areas. Half of Indiana鈥檚 Head Start programs operate in rural areas, he said, where Head Start is often the only provider of health screenings, disability screenings and mental health services for young children. 

鈥淚f we take that away,鈥� he asked, 鈥渨hat does that do to half our state?鈥�

Cecil is in favor of a comprehensive review of the , he said. He believes there is room for improvement. 

鈥淏ut you can鈥檛 do that without looking at the six decades of research and data that have been built around Head Start, then going out into the field and talking to seasoned leaders and practitioners in classrooms,鈥� he said. 鈥淭hey鈥檒l really tell us where changes could get made.鈥�

The changes being proposed now, he said, seem to have come from people sitting in an 鈥渋vory tower somewhere in Washington, D.C.,鈥� without the involvement or consultation of people on the ground. 

Kara McFalls, executive director of the Pennsylvania Head Start Association, doesn鈥檛 buy the narrative the administration has put forward either. 

鈥淚t鈥檚 false flexibility,鈥� she said. 鈥淚t will only increase stress and burden dramatically.鈥�

Together for Head Start estimated that Pennsylvania would lose more than 1,300 jobs and almost $6 million in funding for health services, and that each family would face an average annual increase of $635 in childcare costs per child. The latter estimate comes from in which children receive 99 fewer hours of Head Start annually 鈥� a cost-saving mechanism for the government, but one that would place the burden on families to find alternative care arrangements for their children while they work.

That additional financial strain on families with children in Head Start 鈥� who are, by definition, living in poverty 鈥� would be enormous, McFalls said. To be for Head Start, a family of four must earn less than $33,000 per year, which equals 100% of the federal poverty level. For a family of two, such as a single parent and a child, it鈥檚 around $22,000. 

鈥淚t would be devastating for them,鈥� McFalls said of the projected $635 increase in annual childcare costs. 鈥淭hat could be their ability to stay in their housing. 鈥� That could be the difference of food on their table, food for all the people in their family for months. That could be the difference in their ability to fix their car to be able to go to work.鈥�

That鈥檚 to say nothing of the nearly 8% of children currently enrolled in Head Start who could lose access to the program altogether because their eligibility is based on family self-attestation. (The HHS proposal would as a way to satisfy eligibility requirements.) Many of these families are experiencing housing instability or homelessness and cannot provide the documentation needed to prove eligibility, said Yvette Sanchez Fuentes, senior vice president of government relations and federal policy at Start Early, a nonprofit advocacy organization that launched Together for Head Start and provided support for the recent analysis. 

鈥淭his whole [proposed rule],鈥� she said, 鈥渋s reducing access 鈥� and reducing equitable access 鈥� to families we know could use Head Start, deserve Head Start and for whom Head Start could actually make a huge difference in their lives.鈥� 

Sanchez Fuentes is not alone in worrying about what will happen to the Head Start workforce once teachers are asked to care for increasing numbers of children. The proposed rule change would remove Head Start鈥檚 notably low adult-to-child ratio requirements and ask that programs defer to state licensing guidelines. 

Currently, only two states align with Head Start ratio standards for 2-year-olds, and five states align with ratios for 3-year-olds, according to from the Children鈥檚 Equity Project at Arizona State University. That means a Head Start teacher working with 3-year-olds in the 45 other states could see their classroom size balloon. Rather than two teachers caring for 16 children, as is currently required in Head Start classrooms, that same pair of educators could end up serving up to 30 children in some states, including Florida, Georgia, North Carolina and Texas.

鈥淭hat is not education,鈥� said Cecil. 鈥淭hat is simply crowd control.鈥�

Increased class sizes, on top of reductions in support staff and essential services, could eventually lead qualified staff to leave Head Start, said Sanchez Fuentes.

鈥淚t鈥檚 only going to compound the pressure on people who are there every day,鈥� she said. 

When Sanchez Fuentes thinks about the legacy of Head Start over its past 60 years as a federal antipoverty program, she sees it as a leader in the field of early care and education, 鈥渁t the forefront of innovation,鈥� using science and data to inform its programming. Head Start expanded to serve infants and toddlers under Early Head Start in the 1990s, when 鈥渘obody was paying attention to babies,鈥� she said, offering an example. 

鈥淭o suddenly be at this point where 90% of those things are going to go away? It鈥檚 heartbreaking,鈥� Sanchez Fuentes said, referring to the fact that the administration is proposing Head Start standards be reduced from 133 pages to about a dozen. 

鈥淲e will no longer have this foundational piece of quality that鈥檚 good for kids,鈥� she added. 鈥淲hat does that say about how we care about our kids?鈥�

For school districts, as in any industry, accountability can鈥檛 end when a contract is signed, it must begin there. 

That is why outcomes-based contracting has emerged as one of the most promising shifts in K鈥�12 procurement in decades. Essentially, this approach ties a portion of an education technology provider’s payment to whether agreed-upon student outcomes are achieved when educators implement the program as recommended. Rather than paying solely for products or services, outcomes-based contracting aligns districts and providers around a shared goal: improving student outcomes. Done well, it transforms the relationship from a traditional vendor agreement into a true partnership centered on student success.

Early evidence suggests the model has real promise. A from WestEd found that districts implementing outcomes-based contracts saw positive impacts on student performance. Further, it improved implementation through more frequent communication between districts and technology providers, and led to better leveraging of data to help improve outcomes.

The has helped establish a national framework and brought together districts and providers committed to rethink how educational services are purchased and evaluated. Since 2024, my organization, Curriculum Associates, has grown its partnership with the center, and most recently engaged with its Provider Learning Series in the spring. 

But as more districts move this model from theory to implementation, we’re learning something important: The conversation is no longer just whether to adopt outcomes-based contracting, it’s how to implement it well. Based on our experience, there are several principles that can help make outcomes-based contracting more meaningful, practical, and ultimately, more beneficial for students.

First, districts and providers need to measure outcomes in ways that are both ambitious and realistic. Student growth depends on many factors, and accountability should reflect the portion of the instructional experience a provider can reasonably influence. Rather than expecting every enrolled student to achieve the same outcome, districts and providers should consider overall class or school-level growth, such as the median percentage of progress toward each growth target. This approach reflects the holistic picture of how much each student progresses, rather than reducing outcomes to a simple and incomplete yes/no of whether a student met a target.

Second, accountability is bolstered by robust discussions about implementation. One of our earliest partnerships with Fresno Unified School District reinforced this lesson. The strongest outcomes did not come from payment terms. They came from regular governance meetings, shared data reviews and continuous course correction throughout the school year. The contract created accountability, but the partnership created improvement.

Third, professional learning should be viewed as essential, not optional. Every district begins from a different place, with different priorities, staffing models, and levels of readiness. Successful implementation requires more than purchasing the product. It requires ongoing coaching, customized support, and a shared understanding of how instructional practices connect to student outcomes. Meeting the unique needs of a district is not something that can be baked into a one-sized fits all model. 

We have seen, first-hand, the benefits of this strategy. In Fresno, implementation extended well beyond the product itself to include professional learning, implementation support and alignment with the district’s broader literacy strategy. Like any major decision, the district leaders in Fresno thought through how to best apply these tools and work them into the district’s broader strategy before application.

Fourth, incentives should strengthen partnerships, not simply reward or punish performance. Outcomes-based contracting works best when both sides have something to gain from student success. Districts should have meaningful protections if agreed-upon outcomes are not achieved. At the same time, when partnerships exceed expectations, providers should look for ways to reinvest that success, whether through additional professional learning, implementation support, or future service credits. Accountability should encourage continuous improvement, not create winners and losers.

Finally, educators should evaluate instructional systems, not just software. Student outcomes are the product of multiple factors. They reflect the use of the tool, as well as systems and structures that ensure all resources work together.

Perhaps the most valuable lesson from Fresno was that the partnership improved both organizations. The district strengthened its approach to accountability, while as partners we new insights into what drives successful implementation in real classrooms. The results were significant. According to district data, 70% of Fresno Unified鈥檚 kindergarteners achieved mastery in foundational literacy skills, exceeding the 62.5% target the district set for June 2026. That’s exactly what a strong partnership should do: create learning on both sides all in service of students.

Outcomes-based contracting is still evolving, and that’s a good thing. As more districts gain implementation experience, the education community has an opportunity to refine what works, share best practices and build on the strong foundation the Center for Outcomes Based Contracting has established.

The future of education procurement shouldn’t be about shifting risk from one party to another. It should be about aligning everyone around the same goal: helping students succeed.

When districts and providers share responsibility, invest in implementation and continuously learn from one another, everyone benefits. Districts gain stronger partners, providers become more accountable, and most importantly, students receive the support they deserve.