after laments the death of entry-level hiring, and according to the World Economic Forum, the they鈥檙e building will be out of date by the end of the decade. 

As both a mother of two teenagers and the head of one of the nation鈥檚 largest education , I鈥檓 asked a version of the very same question from both parents and policymakers: How can we ensure that today鈥檚 students are learning things that are actually going to matter?

I found part of the answer in an unexpected place: a high school theater.

My daughter recently performed in her school鈥檚 production of “Legally Blonde: The Musical.” She played Pilar, a scene-stealing member of Elle Woods鈥� sorority. After the show, she cried 鈥� not from exhaustion or stress but from pride. And not pride in the accomplishment, but the learning that came with it.

Of course, what she learned from that play won鈥檛 show up on a standardized test. Colleges won鈥檛 find it on her transcript, either. But like thousands of other theater kids, she鈥檚 building exactly the sort of skills that the labor market is demanding.

In the weeks leading up to the performance, she had to collaborate with a diverse cast, manage her time across competing priorities, take direction and feedback, recover from mistakes in real time and perform under pressure. She built confidence, resilience and the ability to communicate with clarity and presence. We used to call these 鈥渟oft鈥� skills. In the age of AI, they鈥檙e the hard currency of economic mobility. 

Perhaps it should come as no surprise that some kids who participated in the performing arts have landed themselves in positions of significant power and influence, including former Disney CEO and U.S. Supreme Court Justice .

As AI accelerates the automation of routine tasks, a suggests that the uniquely human capabilities are becoming even more valuable, not less. More often than not, these 鈥渄urable skills鈥� are cultivated in places we don鈥檛 traditionally count: theater productions, debate teams, student government, part-time jobs and community-based experiences. 

This raises an urgent question: If the skills that matter most for success in the world of work 鈥� and the world at large 鈥� are developed in unconventional ways, why do we continue to treat those experiences as peripheral?

The simple answer is that our education system is largely oriented around what is easiest to measure over what matters most. If we can鈥檛 measure it, we can鈥檛 evaluate it. And if we can鈥檛 evaluate it, why teach it? But when it comes to high school, what we measure is beginning to change.

In recent months, a growing number of states are changing high school graduation requirements and replacing traditional diplomas with 鈥�,鈥� designed to provide a broader understanding of what students have learned that more holistically captures the skills necessary for success in life. 

The Carnegie Foundation recently a new set of skills progressions designed to complement 鈥渄ecode鈥� the 鈥渟kills genome鈥� by transforming skills like collaboration and critical thinking into their component parts 鈥� a significant step toward developing new forms of assessment, curricula and ultimately teaching methods that bring 鈥渢heater鈥� skills to center stage.

As business leaders begin to question the value of longstanding skills-proxies 鈥� including even the college degree 鈥� they are signaling to young people that skills honed outside the academic context are not optional; they are essential. That includes designing hiring and interview processes that explicitly take human skills into account; assessing those skills as workers progress in their careers; and adopting training programs that focus on those skills alongside technical competencies.

 More and more businesses are recognizing that if the pace of technological advancement isn鈥檛 slowing down, the best way to keep up is to ensure that their employees have the resilience and agility to navigate a world of work defined by change.

And for parents, perhaps most importantly of all, it may mean recognizing that the path to opportunity is not always linear or confined to the classroom. It鈥檚 time to stop thinking of theater, sports and volunteering as ways of burnishing a resume for college. Those activities have always been the places where students learn to work together, navigate uncertainty and step up in scary situations. Reading and math will never stop being important, but without the skills to put academic accomplishments to work, too many of our young people will find those dire headlines starting to come true.

My daughter didn鈥檛 just perform in a musical. She practiced the very skills that will help her navigate a world where change is constant and careers are nonlinear. If we are serious about preparing young people for the future of work, we need to expand our definition of what counts as learning 鈥� and where it happens.

Then someone picks up a guitar.

From the first notes, his face transforms, and just like that, he is with us. He sways to the rhythm, eyes alive with an emotion we almost never see in him. In those moments, music gives him something the rest of the world rarely does: the chance to participate and enjoy the moment equally.

I grew up watching this and wondering why. The science, it turns out, is unambiguous. nearly every region of the brain simultaneously. Singing, moving to a beat, even passive listening engages the brain’s centers for emotion, memory and motor function.听

For people with disabilities, this makes music an unusually powerful tool capable of regulating emotions, rewiring neural pathways and opening channels of communication that language cannot reach.

A of intellectually disabled youth in Senegal found that music therapy improved both fine and gross motor skills and reduced social discrimination by fostering inclusion. Healthcare professionals routinely prescribe it for neurological conditions. The evidence is settled. Not uncertain. 

This begs the question of why it is so hard for people with disabilities to access it. And the answer, the honest answer, is that this is a policy failure, not a scientific one. 

are the professionals assigned to work most closely with disabled students, but are trained in behavior management, not in how rhythm and movement support motor development. Music teachers, meanwhile, receive virtually no instruction in adaptive or inclusive techniques. A found a severe lack of resources and training specifically for inclusive music education. In practice, that means music teachers are rarely trained to adapt lessons for students with motor, cognitive, or communication challenges, and paraeducators are not equipped to use music as part of developmental support. 

The result is a cruel paradox: Even when programs exist, the students who stand to gain the most from music are the least likely to receive it.

Fifty years after the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act promised students with disabilities access to a free and appropriate public education, access still depends on local resources, staffing and training. When budgets are stretched, programs like music and the arts can be treated as optional. But for students with disabilities, music is not enrichment. It can be a pathway to confidence, movement, memory and community.听

I saw what that access can look like through in New York City. I first encountered DMF when I performed with the Dalton Chorus at the in 2024. During George Dennehy鈥檚 song 鈥淭he Moment,鈥� I was so focused on his voice that only when the song ended did I fully register that he had been playing the guitar with his feet. What stayed with me was not difference, but sameness: the same joy, nerves, pride and hunger for expression that I feel when I sing.听

DMF is built on the belief that music is a right, not a privilege, and its free online and in-person classes show what that belief looks like in practice. With my family, I later organized Harmony Without Borders, a cross-cultural benefit concert supporting DMF. We brought together Indian and Western music and invited students, teachers, and community members so that more people could see inclusive music not as charity, but as a shared space where everyone can belong equally.

I understood that even more clearly when I volunteered at the DMF in-person classes, sharing Indian and Western solf猫ge and Bollywood dance steps. The response was immediate: Rhythm turned into movement, repetition into confidence, and high-energy music into a room full of attention and connection. Watching that happen made the research feel real. Music engages movement, emotion, memory, and learned patterns all at once. Students with disabilities deserve the same chance to participate in music.

Organizations like DMF have been quietly expanding that access for years. But they were never meant to replace public systems. Their work matters because it shows what is possible. It also shows what is still missing.

This is what brings me back to my uncle. He never received music therapy. He never had adaptive music education. His response to a song is entirely instinctual. I think often about what structured musical support might have unlocked for him or others with cerebral palsy over a lifetime.

That question carries a specific kind of grief, because the support he needed existed. It just never reached him. For my uncle, music is the closest thing he has to a common language with the rest of us. Protecting that connection for my uncle, and making it possible for every student with disabilities in America, requires two things: training teachers to deliver inclusive music education, and defending the funding and oversight that make any of this possible.

Although Connecticut鈥檚 charter school sector has produced, per-pupil funding has not increased in years, and the pipeline for new charter schools was effectively closed without a clear opening in sight for schools and families.听

But something incredible happened in this year鈥檚 legislative session: Four new schools won approval, lawmakers provided a special fund specifically for charters, and charter paraprofessionals gained new benefits.  

To accomplish this, it took a coalition of education advocacy organizations showing up together, sharing strategy, coordinating closely with school leaders and families, and trusting each other through the hard moments. 

Currently, Connecticut has 23 operating charter schools serving roughly 12,000 students. Massachusetts, with a similar demographic profile and only modestly larger population, has more than 80 charter schools serving close to 50,000 students. The gap reflects, in part, a system that has made opening new schools unusually difficult, even as waitlists continue to grow. This session began to change that.

and the Alliance for Connecticut Charter Schools, both built specifically to grow and strengthen the state鈥檚 charter sector, came into this session as close partners. and the , with their deep statewide education-policy expertise and relationships across the broader public education landscape, were essential allies, bringing their own statehouse relationships and credibility to bear on behalf of charter families when it mattered.听

That kind of multi-organization coordination is harder than it sounds in a policy environment where groups often compete for credit or diverge on strategy. This year, these groups didn鈥檛. The result was the most consequential legislative session for Connecticut charter schools in decades.

Now four new schools are on the path to opening, a significant achievement in a state where new launches have been stalled for some time. 

cleared its final legislative hurdle and is fully funded to open. This marks the culmination of years of community organizing, including more than 3,000 letters of support from New Haven families. , already serving students in Stamford, secured full funding, cementing its long-term footing. And three more schools, , in Stamford, and in Ansonia, received planning grants that formally launch their path to opening in the coming years.

PROUD Academy is incubating through the , a joint initiative of The Mind Trust Connecticut and Leaders for Educational Advocacy and Diversity that backs leaders building new charter schools across the state.

The legislature also passed an $8.7 million supplemental grant for charter schools, the largest single-session funding gain the sector has ever seen, adding approximately $685 per student. 

Charter paraprofessionals had been wrongly excluded from a state healthcare subsidy available to their traditional district peers. Legislators adjusted this so that these educators may finally gain access. It鈥檚 the kind of fix that sounds technical until you talk to the people it affects. 

There is still work to do. Two schools with approved charters in hand 鈥� one in Danbury, one in Middletown 鈥� still have no clear path to open. The Mind Trust Connecticut and ACCS will keep showing up for those communities until that changes. Charter schools also still need a long-term structural funding fix, not just supplemental grants, to ensure real financial stability. 

Supplemental grants prove the political will exists to fund charter schools. A permanent change to the funding formula turns a good year into a durable system that fairly funds high-quality charter schools across Connecticut.

But the trajectory is unmistakable. Governor Ned Lamont has convened targeting a school finance overhaul in 2027. State education leaders have committed to releasing a formal charter application process later this year after several years of pausing applications. The pipeline behind it is packed with talented operators who have been waiting a long time for exactly this opening. 

Connecticut has no cap on charter schools, which means the ceiling on growth is set by political will and quality execution, not by statute. The demand is real: thousands of families on waitlists, communities ready to organize, school leaders ready to build.

More importantly, these wins reflect a broader commitment to expanding educational opportunity for students and families who need stronger public school options.

None of this was inevitable. It was built by The Mind Trust Connecticut and ACCS, alongside partners ConnCAN and the School and State Finance Project, and the families and school communities who never stopped showing up. The coalition is still standing. Connecticut’s charter sector is just getting started on its next chapter.

Charters are built on the premise that all kids can learn when a culture of high expectations, great teaching and deep relationships with students and families works together to help each child in the school learn and grow.

This year alone, over 30,000 high school seniors in hundreds of high schools across the country that our fund invests in earned over a billion dollars in college scholarships. And close to 100% of them have been accepted and are going to college.

For individual students, this is an extraordinary outcome.鈥淔or my family, this scholarship means that all of their support and sacrifice over the years has truly paid off,鈥� said Laythan Davis, who is graduating from Uncommon Schools in Rochester, New York, this year, and headed to Cornell University on a QuestBridge Scholarship.

But it is surprisingly ordinary in a subset of public schools that have created an approach that works year after year. Our hope is that this becomes ordinary in all communities across the country. 

I had a chance to ask four great leaders of these extraordinary charter school networks about their 鈥渟ecret sauce,鈥� and this is what I learned:

At Friendship Public Charter School in the heart of Southeast Washington, D.C., CEO Pat Brantley and her veteran team of educators are not only graduating 100% of their senior class, but also helping students earn more than and acceptance to four-year colleges and universities across the country. Friendship leaders credit their success to creating a school environment where students are exposed early to college coursework, career pathways, internships and real-world experiences that help them see new possibilities for their future.听

From NASA partnerships and architecture mentoring programs to dual-enrollment classes and study abroad opportunities, Friendship students are encouraged to see themselves not only as college students, but as future leaders, engineers, designers and innovators. For many, those pathways are already paying off: Students are leveraging their career training to earn real income while in college, taking on work in their chosen fields that goes well beyond what a fast food job or work-study position might offer. Educators at Friendship often describe the school community as a “village,” one where students are deeply known, challenged and supported long before graduation day.听

Across the country, public charter schools like Friendship are helping students achieve outcomes that often go unnoticed and therefore uninterrogated. We should be looking to these schools for strategies that work, not only in the charter sector but in public schools across the country with similar needs and student populations. 

For example, at DSST Public Schools in Colorado, seniors have earned more than $48 million in scholarships this year alone, while maintaining a 100% postsecondary placement rate for every graduating class since 2008. Each student averaged more than six college acceptances while earning highly competitive national scholarships, such as QuestBridge, Daniels Fund and Posse Foundation scholarships. This success comes from a that begins long before senior year. Students receive individualized advising, support in navigating financial aid and scholarships and access to counselors and educators who help students see college and career success as attainable and expected.

In Chicago, Noble Schools, which serves roughly 10% of Chicago鈥檚 public school population, consistently account for over $500 million in scholarships, more than 30% of the district’s annual scholarship dollars. More than two-thirds of Noble seniors are first-generation college students, and the network has built a college-going culture where students are surrounded by counselors, mentors and alumni who help make higher education feel attainable rather than out of reach. More than 1,000 Noble seniors enroll in college each year, many the first in their family to navigate the process. Noble to rigorous academics, mentorship and a strong college persistence model that helps students succeed after high school graduation. 

At Uncommon Schools 鈥� a charter network operating in five Northeastern communities 鈥� graduating seniors earned more than $29 million in scholarships, while 95% of students were accepted to four-year colleges, continuing a long-standing culture of academic excellence and college persistence for first-generation students. Overall, Uncommon students graduate from college at nearly four times the national rate of their peers. Leaders to long-term alumni support systems that help first-generation students navigate the challenges of college enrollment, persistence, and completion. 

Students like Laythan represent what becomes possible when schools combine high expectations with real support. During high school, Laythan helped build an AI-powered litter detection program, volunteered in his community and launched an eco-friendly clothing business 鈥� all while preparing for college as the first student from his school to attend Cornell.

Through dedicated coaching and continued engagement after graduation, Uncommon works to ensure students not only get into college but also earn their degrees.

These stories aren’t just about scholarships and college acceptance letters; they are a call to action. These schools prove every day that excellence is possible and that potential isn’t in short supply: opportunity is.

The divide also shows up in who actually uses school choice. Charter schools 鈥� the most widespread form of publicly funded options 鈥� serve black, Hispanic and lower-income students, especially in urban areas. In many cities, the number of kids on charter school waitlists reaches into the thousands, reflecting intense demand among families seeking alternatives to the schools they are assigned.

, author of , coined the term “” to describe ideas that cost their holders nothing while imposing real burdens on others 鈥� positions that are easiest to maintain when one is insulated from their consequences. Debates over policing have often followed this pattern, with calls to enforcement carrying far in high-crime neighborhoods than in more affluent ones.听

Opposition to school choice is another clear example of this pattern. Many of the most vocal critics oppose school choice politically while enjoying it privately. Widespread school choice already exists for families with means.

Affluent parents have long exercised school choice by paying a premium to buy homes in desirable school districts or by sending their children to private schools. They have already secured the outcome that families with fewer resources are still fighting for. For them, the debate is shaped more by ideology than by the realities faced by parents without the same educational options.

For lower-income families, access to better schools through the housing market is often out of reach. Policies that expand school choice 鈥� charter schools, vouchers or open enrollment 鈥� are among the few mechanisms that allow these parents to exercise the kind of educational agency that affluent families already enjoy. The real debate over school choice is not whether it should exist, but who gets access to it.

Choice critics that the should instead be on traditional public schools. For students assigned to underperforming schools, this means waiting indefinitely for reforms that may never arrive, while viable alternatives are blocked. It also assumes that equalizing school quality is both feasible and sufficient 鈥� a concept at odds with decades of uneven reform and a large body of showing that peers and community environments shape long-term outcomes.

Another common concern is that school choice from traditional public schools. But this argument confuses institutional interests with student welfare. When a child leaves a traditional public school, the district is responsible for educating one fewer child. Funding that follows students to schools that are serving them better is not a loss to education 鈥� it is education working.

Importantly, find that expanding school choice actually leads to improvements in nearby public schools. When families have options, traditional public schools have stronger incentives to respond. 

None of this is to suggest that school choice policies are without trade-offs. Program design matters, and poorly designed systems can create real problems. But broad opposition to school choice, especially from those who have already secured educational options for their own children, rests on a position that carries little personal cost while limiting opportunities for others. 

Opposing school choice while overlooking who bears the consequences is a luxury belief that many families cannot afford to hold.

Both these goals could be scuttled by an alarming increase in the number of young children who lack access to healthcare. Our new shows that nearly 1.2 million children under age 6 were uninsured in 2024, and that number has been on the rise, with about 220,000 of them losing coverage between 2022 and 2024. That鈥檚 a 23% hike, larger than the increase seen for older children. It brings the rate of uninsured youngsters to its highest level in nearly a decade.听

Drawn from U.S. Census Bureau data, the numbers are a harbinger of what鈥檚 to come, given the nearly $1 trillion in Medicaid cuts that Congress approved in 2025. Some under age 19 have been disenrolled since January 2025, signaling real potential for these trends to grow worse.  

The children under age 6 include newborn babies, toddlers, preschoolers and kindergartners 鈥� all going through key stages of brain development that require regular well-child visits and follow-up appointments to assess their physical and social-emotional health. The American Academy of Pediatrics’ evidence-based recommend 12 check-ups by age 3 to help ensure that children are developing properly and receiving necessary preventive care.

links expanding Medicaid eligibility to improved fourth and eighth grade reading scores on the National Assessment of Educational Progress. That likely means that health providers are identifying the sort of developmental delays and disabilities that can keep young children from learning to read 鈥� and that youngsters are receiving early interventions that can help to turn these problems around before kindergarten. These issues become harder and more expensive to address when children are older. 

Access to medical care can also ensure that children miss fewer days of school. 鈥� even in preschool and kindergarten 鈥� add up to weaker reading skills and math skills later. National trends show that young students miss the most school days in these early grades.

Our analysis found that more than half of states saw in the number or rate of uninsured young children between 2022 and 2024. Connecticut actually saw its rate drop during that period. But 16 states saw significant increases. More than 73,000 children under age 6 joined the ranks of the uninsured in Texas, where 253,000 youngsters 鈥� 1 in 10 鈥�  lack coverage. In Florida, 27,000 young children became uninsured, bringing the state鈥檚 total to nearly 104,000. In North Dakota, the number of young children is far smaller, but the rate of those uninsured jumped from 5.3% to 9.8% in just two years.

Much of the change can be attributed to the end of pandemic-era protections that kept children enrolled in Medicaid and the Children鈥檚 Health Insurance Program. When the federal requirement for continuous coverage expired, hundreds of thousands of children lost their insurance. 

In some cases, their families no longer qualified for the healthcare programs offered for lower-income children. But in far more instances, children lost coverage because of administrative hurdles, red tape or even .听

Most of those who lost coverage are U.S. citizens. While we do not yet have data to show trends in 2025 and 2026, we are concerned about the ways stricter immigration enforcement is creating a on Medicaid enrollment. In some places, families with children who are citizens declined to enroll them for fear that their participation could endanger family members. The Trump administration鈥檚 aggressive seem likely to exacerbate that trend. 

So will a new requirement that all low-income adults on Medicaid prove that they are looking for work. It may seem counterintuitive that a provision aimed at adults would affect health access for children, but past show that when parents lose access to Medicaid, their kids as well.

So what can states do to turn these trends around?

The first step is to ensure more young children don鈥檛 lose their health coverage. That means paying careful attention to Medicaid and CHIP, which currently cover nearly three-fourths of all low-income children under age 6. of the nation’s uninsured children were likely eligible but not enrolled in these programs in 2019, the most recent year for which data is available. Historically, that number is closer to two-thirds.

Keeping kids enrolled in Medicaid helps parents afford and needed interventions for physical and emotional health concerns in the early years. These steps pay dividends later on by preventing children from needing special education services and other costly support when they鈥檙e older.  

State leaders should review their rules to ensure new enrollment and renewal requirements for adults don鈥檛 affect their children鈥檚 coverage. They and their community partners can help families understand that changes to parents鈥� coverage need not affect children. 

Unlike adults, children in every state are entitled to 12 months of uninterrupted coverage. State lawmakers can take that a step further by monitoring children鈥檚 enrollment to ensure the state is correctly implementing for all children covered by Medicaid, and by investing in community-based outreach and enrollment assistance. 

allow continuous eligibility for young children for up to five years, keeping them covered from birth to kindergarten; many cite school readiness among their objectives. Unfortunately, the Trump administration has said it will not policies, effectively taking this promising tool off the table. 

that young children with access to health coverage are more likely than those without to graduate from high school and college, and even grow up to earn more money and pay more in taxes. Medicaid is a smart investment that can keep young children on track to learn and succeed in life, providing long-term benefits for families and society as well. States should take every possible step to protect coverage for infants, toddlers and preschoolers to maximize this investment.

It鈥檚 the social capital gap 鈥� the yawning differences between rich and poor in access to the relationships, networks and institutions that are key to successfully navigating through life. Indeed, a landmark 2022 led by the Harvard economist Raj Chetty demonstrated that a form of social capital 鈥� what he called 鈥渆conomic connectedness鈥� 鈥� is the single strongest predictor of a child鈥檚 ability to rise out of poverty. 

My 35 years of experience as CEO of a nonprofit education organization working with schools across New York City, most serving students from high-poverty neighborhoods, underscored just how profound is the social capital gap they face and how significant a barrier it poses to their success. 

I will never forget, for example, how a bright and capable young woman 鈥� the valedictorian of her Bronx high school 鈥� could not find her way to Manhattan by subway to meet with me about a scholarship to a summer preparatory program at an Ivy League college. After several attempts, I eventually had to go get her. When I did, I learned that her travel difficulties stemmed from the fact that she had never been to Manhattan. She had almost never even ventured out of her immediate neighborhood. Nor had she ever been to a restaurant, like the one where we met, that required placing orders with a waiter.  

What makes this story noteworthy is that it is hardly unique. This student is one of millions of young people who live in social capital deserts, where opportunities to engage with the wider world are extremely limited. This stands in sharp contrast to the experience of wealthier students, whose circumstances give them a deep reservoir of social capital to draw from and provide significant advantages.

What is perhaps the most critical takeaway from this young woman鈥檚 story is that it is not preordained. It is possible to change the narrative for future students who grow up in circumstances similar to hers, so they can possess the social capital they will need to succeed in the workplace and in other aspects of their lives.

Accomplishing that would require some reimagining of the school experience to make sure that the building of social capital is seen as an essential element of a formal education. Schools would be held accountable for ensuring that their students have access to a range of people, resources and experiences aimed at broadening their horizons and opening them up to new possibilities.

For high school-aged students, this would include participation in internships that would expose them to potential career paths, along with the norms and rhythms of work. It would also include visits to a variety of colleges, so they can see firsthand what each has to offer and how good a fit each would be. And wherever possible, it would include mentorship programs that would connect them with people who could offer support and guidance, as well as to networks that would otherwise be unavailable to them. 

For students of all ages, this focus on the cultivation of social capital would involve placing a premium on real-world experiences that extend beyond the classroom, utilizing cultural institutions, parks and other community assets as sources of learning. Students would have a chance to engage with the world around them and, in the process, acquire knowledge and learn valuable skills that can鈥檛 be imparted only through the classroom. 

About 10 years ago, a colleague and I were invited to one of New York City鈥檚 most prestigious private schools to see a new virtual reality program developed for a sixth-grade unit on ancient Egypt. The program was quite impressive, and when it was completed, its developer turned to us expectantly for our reaction. My colleague’s response: It was really well done, but it would be so much better if the students were actually able to go to Egypt.

That comment was partially tongue-in-cheek, but it speaks to a powerful truth: There is no substitute for direct experience. This feels especially relevant right now, when so much of young people鈥檚 time is spent engaged with their phones or computer screens, divorced from real life. While not all students can visit Egypt, it is possible to provide them with an education that is filled with experiences 鈥� in and out of the classroom 鈥� that allow them to learn about, connect to and successfully make their way through the world in which they live.

To be sure, even a guarantee of such an experience-rich education would probably not entirely eliminate the social capital gap. But schools can play an important role in narrowing it and making it possible for rich, poor and everyone in-between to find a place on the ladder of opportunity that is part and parcel of the American dream. That鈥檚 a role that everyone who seeks a fairer, more equitable society should insist they take on. 

A from Leanlab Education, a nonprofit research organization, examined publicly available LAUSD assessment data over several years.

found that schools using IM Math grew faster than similar schools that did not, even as math outcomes improved across LAUSD overall. The difference was equivalent to roughly three to four additional months of math learning each year. It also found that schools receiving curriculum-aligned implementation support saw math scores improve after that support began, with gains increasing over time.

What drove these results was not a single program, but an instructional vision that connected curriculum, professional learning and implementation support.

IM Math provided the instructional foundation, with lessons designed to build on one another from day to day and year to year. But adopting the curriculum was not the end of the story. The PartnershipLA worked alongside teachers and leaders in bringing that design into day-to-day practice through professional learning, planning support, coaching and classroom observations.  A coach-the-coaches model strengthened the partnership鈥檚 capacity to support schools over time.

Building on that foundation and with an investment from the Gates Foundation, the PartnershipLA and LAUSD worked together to roll out these practices across the district. LAUSD led the expansion, establishing the guidance, funding and leadership structures to bring high-quality math materials to schools systemwide, while the PartnershipLA contributed tools, lessons and coaching capacity to the district at large.

That combination mattered because teachers are the ones who bring the curriculum to life. With strong materials and aligned support, teachers guided students to reason, explain, question, practice and revise their thinking. That helped build understanding and fluency over time instead of memorizing disconnected steps. As lessons built on one another, students could connect what they learned yesterday to the work in front of them today.

Even well-designed materials lose impact when the rest of the system points in different directions. Professional learning drifts if it is not anchored to the curriculum that students use every day. Tutoring and intervention can give students more time without giving them a clearer path. None of this happens because educators or district leaders lack commitment. It happens because aligning a large system is hard, especially when leaders are being asked to show progress quickly.

Educators are already doing the hard work. The challenge for district leaders is to ensure the many supports around teachers work together in ways that are easier to sustain and more likely to reach students. If approved, California鈥檚 next round of investments will give districts a chance to turn this lesson into action.

Students who have been denied strong math instruction cannot afford further fragmentation in reform. They deserve access to grade-level mathematics that helps them see patterns, solve problems, and develop confidence in their own ability to do math. Educators deserve materials, time, and support that are all working toward the same goal.

The new findings offer a playbook, but not a shortcut: Start with a shared instructional vision, choose strong materials, align professional learning and implementation support around them and keep improving over time.

That is hard work. It is also how districts turn smart investments into lasting gains in student learning.

Disclosure: Gates Foundation provides financial support to 社区黑料.

The heart of New York City鈥檚 initiative are the caring adults in schools who check in with students living in temporary housing, build relationships with families and help connect them to support during difficult moments.

Every public school and Department of Homeless Services shelter in NYC has access to the , a planning, case-management and interagency operations platform. It鈥檚 built to let school teams, shelters and partner organizations do the daily work of moving individual students toward promotion, graduation and postsecondary outcomes.

The success of this initiative has reinforced for me how relationships need infrastructure behind them to translate into system-wide change. That’s now at risk as the city considers cutting funding for the portal.

The Portal integrates student data from NYC Public Schools with families鈥� shelter information from DHS, helping school staff better understand how to support students living in temporary housing conditions. The ECFIK initiative builds additional features and functionality into the Portal by supporting the day-to-day work of caring adults 鈥� social workers, teachers and other school staff who volunteer to serve as the primary point of contact for a student in temporary housing. This allows these adults to document check-ins, coordinate referrals and access key information in one centralized place.

Families experiencing housing instability are often already carrying enormous burdens. The last thing they need is to repeatedly retell painful situations to different people because systems are disconnected. Having one caring adult serve as a single point of contact solves part of the problem, freeing families from having to navigate a rich but labyrinthine system of available resources across nonprofits and agencies throughout NYC. 

Technology addresses the other part of the problem. Better coordination helps preserve a family鈥檚 dignity. It allows schools and support staff to meet families with greater care and continuity, giving families the sense that people are really working together on their behalf and are coming to each interaction prepared to meet their needs. School staff cannot support students and families effectively 鈥� and thereby maintain trust and strong relationships 鈥� if critical information is fragmented across systems, buried in email attachments or dependent on staff chasing down phone numbers and updates from multiple places.

Importantly, the initiative鈥檚 integration with the Portal ensures that students鈥� needs and plans for support do not live in separate systems disconnected from the rest of the educational experience. A student needing clean laundry should rise to the same level of importance as a failed state exam, and the initiative makes that visibility happen.

Within the portal, caring adults and school staff see student support information alongside attendance patterns, academic performance and other school data, all following strict data privacy protocols and permission rules that respect students鈥� privacy and limit information to the adults who are supporting them. Having plans and outcome data living together allows schools to respond in real time instead of reacting too late and to pivot if an intervention doesn鈥檛 work. 

Caring adults all using a common platform designed with and for them also allows central program leaders to identify patterns, such as how families鈥� needs change in the last 10 days of the month or how the resources families seek differ across neighborhoods and boroughs. Instead of information living in scattered, static spreadsheets on individual computers, the data becomes a real-time tool to support deeper system-level understanding and action. 

An of the initiative鈥檚 first year found that the students involved experienced stronger academic performance and fewer mid-year transfers when compared to similar students who weren鈥檛 in the program. In elementary school that translated into a 8.8 percentage point gain in math. In surveys and focus groups, caring adults reported stronger relationships with families and a shift in school culture toward more empathy and support for students experiencing homelessness.

Beyond the data, the initiative has seen caring adults respond to needs both large and small, making life-changing impacts for their students鈥� families. One caring adult helped a family experiencing domestic violence secure relocation support after hours during a moment of crisis. Another helped a mother get haircuts for her two sons so they could return to school feeling confident. Many others have been the sole reason a student showed up to school that day: Because someone cared about them, was expecting them, was ready to listen if they needed anything. Because they felt known. 

The Portal didn’t get those boys their haircuts. It didn’t take the midnight phone call. It didn’t sit with a mother and figure out what comes next.

What the portal did was make sure that when someone was ready to do those things, they weren’t starting from zero.

That’s the part I care about. Not the software itself, but what it makes possible: that caring adults got to spend their attention on a family instead of on a spreadsheet.

That is what this initiative represents to me: technology that works behind the scenes, so the relationships front and center can hold and transform the trajectory of a family鈥檚 outcomes, one check-in at a time.

Principals, superintendents and other school leaders are being subjected to sleek demos from presenters who know all the right buzzwords. Salespeople are showcasing technologies and hinting that, should administrators choose not to buy their product, students will be left behind. That the digital divide will grow 鈥� on their watch. 

This intense pressure will cause some school leaders to sign agreements that will not serve their students well. While most mistakes won鈥檛 rise to the level of prominent school districts supporting a failed startup, some administrators will nonetheless let anxiety rule the day. They will spend money on tried-and-true methods that could do more good than the shiny new thing. 

What can prevent this? Asking the right questions. 

I have spent years on both sides of the table. As a teacher, I used both good and bad ed tech, so I have seen what actually works in the classroom. As an employee of an ed tech startup I designed technologies that were sold to schools, so I know when promises are inflated to help the bottom line. As a professor of educational technologies and leader of the University of Southern California鈥檚 Center for Generative AI and Society, I study these technologies to know what works 鈥� and what doesn鈥檛 鈥� when it comes to AI鈥檚 influence on education.

That is why, with the support from my colleagues, I have written a titled “Beyond the Salespitch: A Practical Guide to Questioning EdTech Vendors.” Below are some key questions every school leader must consider before signing on the dotted line and committing limited resources to AI-powered ed tech.

Does the Tool Really Help Teachers in the Classroom?

• What specific cognitive skills does the product aim to develop (e.g., argument construction, data interpretation, metacognitive reflection)?
  
• How does it supplement learning rather than replace it? Ask for a step-by-step walk-through showing where student input is required and how feedback loops are built in.
  
• What evidence exists that students improve on the targeted skills? Request pilot study results, raw performance data or an independent evaluation report 鈥� nothing less rigorous will do. 
  
  

Does One Size Really Fit All?

• Which student populations were included in testing the product? Look for data on age, language proficiency, special education status and socioeconomic background. Biased data means biased performance.
  
• How does the system adapt to individual students’ profiles? Ask for a live demo of the personalization engine that shows adjustments based on prior performance and teacher input. 
  
• What safeguards are there for students who might become over-reliant on the tool? Ask how the product detects and flags excessive automation, prompting teacher intervention.

Who Owns the Content?

• Where is student data stored and processed? Identify the physical location of servers (domestic versus overseas) and any third-party processors involved. Ask how data breaches are handled and communicated.
  
• Who owns the text or media students generate using the tool? Ideally, the contract must state that all user-created content remains the property of the school district. Otherwise, your school becomes another content generator for a company. 

• Will our data be used to train future versions of the AI? If yes, require an opt-out clause and a clear explanation of how opting out affects service quality.听
  
• What happens if protected information (FERPA/HIPAA) is entered by mistake? Insist on a documented protocol for immediate deletion and breach notification. Consider clauses that allow you to exit agreements when large enough mistakes occur. 

Are Students Protected From Bias and Misinformation?

• What filters prevent misinformation or harmful content from reaching children? Get access to a live example of the system handling ambiguous queries that could lead to falsehoods. Stress-test it!
  
• Who is responsible when the AI produces inappropriate output? The contract should assign liability to the vendor for any harm caused by the tool鈥檚 autonomous decisions.

Can You Walk Away From the Contract?

• What are the cancellation terms? Look for a no-penalty opt-out clause that allows the district to discontinue use if outcomes aren鈥檛 met. 
  
• Is there an outcomes-based pricing model? Vendors that are willing to tie fees to measurable learning gains demonstrate confidence in their product.
  
• What support and training are included? Clarify the depth of professional development, response time for technical issues and availability of on-site experts.  

While AI has the potential to be a powerful tutor, a strong assistant and an equalizer in under-resourced classrooms, it can do so only if educators adopt tools with full information. School administrators should demand transparency, evidence and ethical safeguards from the companies that build them. 

District leaders should take these questions back to their board, curriculum team and legal counsel. Let them, not the slickness of a demo, drive the conversation. This can turn AI from a tempting shortcut into a responsible ally in education.

That promise hasn鈥檛 disappeared. But it鈥檚 weakened.

Students and working adults still want postsecondary credentials that signal to employers and the wider world that they’re ready for the workforce. What they don鈥檛 accept so easily is that this signal must come in the form of a single, expensive, time-consuming college degree. 

Increasingly, they鈥檙e looking for credentials that cost less, take less time, fit around work and family, and lead more directly to labor-market value. The question is no longer whether higher education is changing. It鈥檚 whether colleges can adapt before students adapt without them.

Consider a recent Washington Post headlined, 鈥淪tudents are speeding through their online degree programs in weeks, alarming educators.鈥� It profiles a human resources executive who completed a bachelor鈥檚 degree in about three months and, later, a master鈥檚 in five weeks for just over $4,000.

While the details are unusual, the impulse behind them isn鈥檛. For many students, postsecondary education is no longer a four-year journey, in one stretch, on one campus, in one format. It鈥檚 a practical issue of getting useful learning, a meaningful credential and a better opportunity at a price and pace that make sense for them.

Still, if college becomes a sprint, it risks weakening essential skills that higher education should develop, such as sustained effort, reflection, conversation and mentorship, as well as the assurance that the credential represents real learning. 

The best approach is to see the situation as a warning and a signal. The demand for lower-cost, faster pathways is real. And data suggest that this isn鈥檛 some fringe development. 

The National Student Clearinghouse Research Center that more than 3.4 million students earned college-awarded non-degree certificates and two- and four-year degrees in the 2024-25 academic year, up 3.2% from the prior year. What鈥檚 revealing is the pattern within it. 

The number of college certificates awarded in fields such as medical assistant, early childhood education, health care, information technology and cybersecurity reached 579,400, a decade high. And 892,300 students who achieved a college-level certificate or degree already held a prior postsecondary credential. For many, higher education operates less like a single, continuous ladder and more like a set of credentials earned in stages. 

That rise in certificate attainment suggests that students are redefining what a credential must do for them. Many aren鈥檛 willing to wait years for one large, all-or-nothing payoff. They want credentials earned step by step. These stacked credentials help individuals get a job, earn a raise, transfer credits or move into the next level of study. 

Moreover, the clearinghouse reports that students ages 18 to 20 now surpass those ages 21 to 24 as the largest share of first-time associate degree earners. Finally, 52,500 students under 18 earned college certificates or associate degrees, likely through dual enrollment and other early pathways. 

Postsecondary education is becoming more varied, starting earlier and unfolding in shorter, more flexible sequences. Students are comparing and weighing certificates against majors, online programs against residential ones, work-based routes against classroom-only pathways and local low-cost colleges against high-price prestige universities.

They鈥檙e asking colleges direct questions like how much will this cost, how long will it take and what will I be able to do with it?

This pressure is driving interest in community colleges, career-focused bachelor鈥檚 degrees, competency-based education, apprenticeship degrees and other work-connected pathways. 

While these models differ from one another, they share the common premise that valuable learning doesn鈥檛 occur only in one place, on one timetable or in one institutional format. 

Still, the answer isn鈥檛 simply acceleration. A cheaper credential with weak labor-market value, poor transferability or uncertain quality isn鈥檛 a bargain. That鈥檚 why this moment shouldn鈥檛 be framed as a victory of disruption over tradition. 

The legacy degree model has strengths, including broad learning, academic depth and social formation. What it often lacks is affordability, flexibility and transparency. 

The newer alternatives address those weaknesses. But they introduce new ones, including thin content, uneven quality, weak transferability and uncertainty in students’ knowledge of their real value in the workforce.

The task, then, isn鈥檛 to defend the legacy degree at all costs or embrace every faster and cheaper substitute. It鈥檚 to build a better credential system that shows which options move careers forward and pay off in better earnings. 

For example, the American Enterprise Institute and Burning Glass Institute developed the , a first-of-its-kind index and navigation tool that reports on the real-world outcomes of virtually every certification in America, as well as more than 20,000 other non-degree credentials. 

These faster, cheaper and different credentials should preserve rigor while allowing students to move in shorter steps, making educational progress more understandable to employers and more manageable for students. They accept the reality that postsecondary education鈥檚 future will be more modular, work-connected and varied than the past.

That suggests four priorities for policymakers and employers.

First, create credentials that build toward each other. Shorter credentials should not be dead ends. They should lead somewhere, like to a better job and more advanced learning. The education and training system should make that easier, not harder. 

Second, transfers and credit recognition should become more routine. If students bundle education from multiple sources, they shouldn’t be penalized for moving between schools or formats. Pathways should be clear, so students can see where a certificate, associate degree, apprenticeship or online course takes them next.

Third, connect credentials to work. That doesn鈥檛 mean reducing higher education to narrow job training. It means recognizing that work-based learning, demonstrated competence and employer partnerships can make education relevant without making it thinner. The strongest approaches aren鈥檛 just shorter, but are better aligned with how individuals build knowledge and skills.  

Fourth, create report cards that publish outcomes. Students need good information about completion, earnings, transfer success and further study if they鈥檙e going to make wise decisions in a crowded and confusing market. The need is for clearer, more widely available evidence about which credentials actually open doors. 

Bachelor鈥檚 degrees will remain important. But students now live in a world where they increasingly expect credentials to be quicker, cheaper, clearer and connected to work. Colleges can resist that world for a while. Or they can help shape it. If they don鈥檛, students will keep building it on their own.

Parents and educators are now asking reasonable questions: Have the tools supported teachers in helping students learn? Or have they added distraction, cost and complexity into the school day? 

The next phase of educational technology should be defined less by adoption and more by how carefully districts choose what stays. 

As district and school leaders revisit technology policies, reconsider tools and respond to growing pressure from parents, educators and policymakers, they have an opportunity to replace reaction with rigor. Five questions should guide their decisions. 

First: What problem are we trying to solve?

Technology should not be a given in classrooms. It should earn its place by demonstrating that it can improve teaching and learning.

Too often, technology decisions begin with a product rather than a problem. A district hears about a new tool, responds to an incoming vendor pitch or feels pressure to 鈥渋nnovate鈥� to keep up with its neighbors. 

But the starting point when picking technology, or any tool, should always be instructional vision. Is the goal to help kids who are behind in math? Provide faster feedback on student writing? Expand access to tutoring in schools that lack staff? Reduce administrative burden so teachers have more time for instruction? 

A tool should be considered only if it鈥檚 tied to a clearly defined challenge, adds value and aligns with the district鈥檚 goals. Without that, districts risk adding technology on top of existing problems rather than solving them. 

Second: Is there credible evidence this tool works? 

Not all screen time is equal. There is an important difference between consumer technologies designed to maximize engagement and created to improve teaching and learning. 

Districts can start by reviewing testimonials, usage and satisfaction data, but they shouldn’t stop there. It鈥檚 important to understand whether a tool has demonstrated impact on student outcomes, in what context and for which children. This evidence should initially come through small-scale, rapid-cycle studies and then build up to more rigorous third-party research that has been .听

Artificial intelligence illustrates both the promise and peril of ed tech, and the importance of evidence. Tools that shortcut critical thinking, automate student writing or encourage dependence rather than learning should raise concerns. Technology that helps teachers personalize instruction, provide better feedback and reduce administrative burden deserve careful consideration.

The question isn鈥檛 whether a tool uses AI. It鈥檚 whether it鈥檚 proven to strengthen teaching and learning. 

Third: Does the tool support teachers or substitute for them? 

Human relationships are central to how students learn and are likely to become even more valuable in an AI-enabled world. No technology should replace the role of a skilled teacher, the value of peer debate or the importance of productive struggle.

But if technology is well designed and implemented, it can strengthen great teaching.  

aligned with classroom curricula can . High-dosage tutoring delivered in a can provide struggling students with that many districts cannot otherwise offer. can help teachers provide more timely feedback while for instruction and relationship-building. Translation and accessibility tools can expand access for multilingual learners and students with disabilities. 

These uses of technology strengthen teaching rather than replace it. That distinction should be central to every district’s decision. If a tool weakens the relationship between teachers and students, districts should be skeptical. If it helps educators better understand student needs, target instruction and free up time for interaction and connection, there may be a place for it in the classroom. 

Fourth: How will we know if the tool delivers the desired outcomes?

Districts have developed sophisticated processes for procuring technology. They need equally rigorous processes for removing tools that fail to improve outcomes. 

Before adopting a tool, school and district leaders should define what success would look like. What student outcomes do they expect will improve? Over what period of time? How will educators know whether the tool is helping? Who is responsible for reviewing the data, and how often? What happens if the expected impact does not materialize? 

This last question matters. Schools should be willing to walk away from tools that do not demonstrate value in the expected time frame. If a tool does not improve learning, help teachers or advance a clear instructional goal, it should not remain in the classroom.听

Fifth: Can we explain it clearly to families? 

At a time of rising concern about technology, transparency and specificity matter.

Families deserve to know which technologies are being used, why they were selected, what evidence justifies them, what they will and will not be used for, and how they are supporting their child鈥檚 progress. This is especially important for AI-enabled tools, as parents may reasonably worry about privacy, academic integrity and overreliance. 

A district should be able to explain in plain language how a tool accelerates learning. If this cannot be clearly communicated to families, that鈥檚 a warning sign. 

Words like 鈥減ersonalized,鈥� 鈥渋nnovative鈥� or 鈥淎I-powered鈥� raise more questions than they answer. Ultimately, parents want to know how a tool helps teachers teach and students learn. They want to understand how their children spend their day and what progress they鈥檝e made. 

The backlash against technology in schools has identified real harms. Parents are right to be concerned about tools that undermine attention, replace human interaction or encourage passive use. These don鈥檛 belong in the classroom.  

But the lesson of the past decade is not that technology is bad. It鈥檚 that schools need to be far more disciplined about what they adopt, why they adopt it, how they measure success and how they communicate those decisions. 

The future of learning should not be defined by how much technology schools use, but by how carefully they choose it and how quickly they let go of things that do not deliver.

In the midst of all the noise, one thing is clear: Americans, across party lines, want in public education. But most do not want it dismantled. Their top priorities are straightforward: teach students real-world skills, keep schools safe and make learning more engaging. Parents want more say in their children’s education, and they want schools to prepare young people to be active, participating citizens.

Anaheim Union High School District in California offers a for changing districts and communities, not just individual schools: reimagining what counts as knowledge, redesigning how educators are utilized and rethinking the boundaries of learning in high school, college and the workplace. The district serves 26,000 students in 20 junior and senior high schools, more than 80% of them high-needs. Its journey shows the pedagogical and political power of building shared purpose around deeper, more personalized learning tied to real-world skills.

The district made three big moves. It built the Anaheim Collaborative, a partnership that brings together colleges, social and health agencies, businesses and local organizations. It invested in community schooling that brings parent and student voice into teaching and learning. And it placed a premium on learning academic content through the 5Cs: collaboration, creativity, critical thinking, communication and compassion.

Anaheim began by loosening the grip of test-based curriculum and investing in teachers, many in hybrid roles, to lead bold innovations with their students. For example, biology teacher Sabina Giakoumis led the development of the Magnolia Agriculture Community Center, which fueled interdisciplinary teaching and service learning as students applied math and science to address Anaheim’s food deserts and develop entrepreneurial skills. Jason Collar, a social studies teacher, leveraged a Minecraft elective to engage students in solving neighborhood problems and soon established an e-sports career pathway in partnership with Fullerton College.

With the , the district offers an early glimpse of how AI can customize learning with whole-child supports, such as an AI-driven tutor that can help guide students’ thinking, and measure academic and so-called soft skills. Its Cambridge Virtual Academy has broken from the factory model of schooling by organizing teachers into interdisciplinary teams, blending live instruction with flexible independent study, and using peer mentoring and AI tools to strengthen relationships among teachers and students. Since the school opened in 2021, full-time enrollment has grown from 100 to 315 students.

District graduation rates have significantly since 2016, from 86% to 94%, and Anaheim Orange County counterparts serving fewer high-needs students in college admission and persistence rates. It is also California鈥檚 first Democracy District, integrating civic learning across schools and disciplines.

But Anaheim also teaches a humbling lesson: What got the district this far will not get it all the way to system transformation. Too many of its middle and high schools still operate with traditional bell schedules and isolated classrooms. Too few teachers have the time to learn from colleagues. The district’s collective bargaining agreement and salary schedule remain rooted in an archaic, one-teacher/one-classroom model that discourages educators from pushing one another to improve and sharing responsibility for student success. And the district office still needs a clearer mechanism to identify and spread teaching talent across schools.

These are not criticisms. They are mile markers on the roadmap to transformation. Drawing on the lessons learned, three major steps stand out.

First, build a community infrastructure for deeper, purposeful, real-world learning. Districts should formalize partnerships among colleges, health and social service agencies, nonprofits, business and industry into advisory boards and learning exchanges. They should establish a shared data system that combines traditional metrics with measures of student voice and parent engagement, civic participation and readiness for careers in the age of AI.

Second, redesign time, staffing and the job of teaching around shared accountability for results. Teaching teams, not isolated educators, must become the default unit of secondary school redesign. These teams should include academic teachers, career and technical educators, counselors, community school staff, college faculty and industry or community mentors who share responsibility for a common group of students. This will require new ways of thinking about human capital, including joint appointments and boundary-spanning roles for educators who work across schools, colleges, workplaces and community organizations.

Third, leverage AI to spur human-connected learning. Used poorly, AI will deepen the factory model: more screen time and more depersonalization. Used well, it can help teachers and students see what traditional schooling and current metrics miss: how young people are thinking, collaborating and creating. Districts should focus AI investments on helping students and teachers apply and reflect on what they are learning.

Not possible?

It is already happening across the country, albeit in bits and pieces. A window for transformation is opening. Growing in career education, apprenticeships and credentials suggests the field is ready to transcend political divides. The is leading a national effort in red and blue states to rethink the high school experience, coupled with efforts to overhaul what counts for college and career readiness. and the are working with innovative school districts to develop talent pipelines at scale.

Public education has a good future if educators, parents, students and business leaders work together locally to make the big changes Americans, Democrats and Republicans alike, say they want 鈥� and that every student deserves in this rapidly changing world.

It’s a structural problem that explains why community engagement efforts in schools so often fall short. School staffs are already stretched thin. Teachers and principals do not have time to manage unpredictable volunteers, coordinate one-off partnerships or repeatedly onboard outside groups that disappear after a single event. Even well-intentioned community support can become a burden if schools are forced to organize it themselves.

In 2017, leaders in the Dallas Independent School District and a local nonprofit, , began approaching this challenge differently. Instead of treating community engagement as outreach, they treated it as infrastructure.

The idea was straightforward: If communities wanted to help schools, someone needed to build the operational systems that would make that help useful, consistent and geared to what educators actually wanted.

That meant creating processes that sound more logistical than inspirational. Principals identified specific school needs. Philanthropies filled funding gaps. Volunteer roles were clearly defined. Literacy tutors followed the district curriculum and were scheduled regularly during class time. Schools did not have to invent partnerships from scratch every semester.

Eight years later, in the 2024-25 school year, 2,064 volunteers gave more than 13,200 hours across 103 United to Learn partner schools in Dallas. These included 140 educators-in-training who collectively delivered 15,000 hours of tutoring to 800 students across 23 Title I schools. Other volunteers, donors and corporate partners have supported projects identified by school leaders, including gardens, community pantries, refreshed libraries with hands-on learning and makerspaces, STEM labs and outdoor areas. This coordination matters because it helps ensure that community support strengthens the work schools were already doing, rather than creating additional layers for educators to navigate.

Here’s what this model looks like in practice:

On a Tuesday morning, college student Oscar Ya帽ez arrived before the first bell at Bethune Elementary, six minutes from his house, to work with second graders on phonics. As an education major working in United to Learn’s Aspiring Teachers program, he is paid, has a regular schedule and was trained in the district’s reading curriculum before he ever sat down with a child. Because Oscar visits the school three times a week, the kids at Bethune know him. When he graduates in December, he hopes to apply for a full-time teaching position at the school. According to fall-to-spring i-Ready assessment data, 91% of participating students improved their overall reading scores, and 62% advanced at least one full grade level in reading proficiency.

Clinton P. Russell Elementary had a state accountability rating of D two years ago. After the district promoted Chara Pace to principal, she led efforts to strengthen school culture, build camaraderie among colleagues and help teachers deliver high-quality curriculum more effectively. This built greater confidence, collaboration and trust. With intensive support from United to Learn, Russell has climbed to an A. Pace credits the partnership and its volunteers, along with a leadership development program that addresses leaders’ mental health and helps to avoid burnout.

At Esperanza “Hope” Medrano Elementary, more than 100 volunteers came together to set up a community pantry and outdoor garden, a project conceived by fifth-grade teacher Karina Solis 鈥� the great-granddaughter of the woman the school is named after. The school was able to shape a project that meant something to its own history.

The district鈥檚 role in all this matters enormously. Many districts struggle to translate community interest into support that is actually useful to schools. In Dallas, district leaders made a deliberate choice to open doors rather than keep people out. Early conversations between the district and the team that would later form United to Learn centered on a few simple questions: What did schools need and how could the community help? Together, they created a clear path for ongoing sustainable support aligned with school priorities. This approach is particularly important for historically underinvested schools whose leaders often hear promises from outside organizations that fail to materialize. School leaders in Dallas say this consistency matters as much as the individual projects themselves.

Maintaining it across what are now more than 124 schools is ongoing work. Schools’ needs differ, resources are finite and sustaining trained volunteers and long-term relationships across so many schools and communities requires constant coordination and adjustment. Dallas鈥檚 experience does not offer a simple formula, and it cannot be replicated through a single volunteer day or short-term initiative. 

Aldeman’s piece concludes by asking whether anyone is willing to build the infrastructure to convert the care communities feel for their local schools into something sustained and measurable. 

Dallas suggests one possible answer. Community engagement becomes more effective when schools are not asked to carry it alone. Like curriculum, transportation or staffing, partnership itself requires infrastructure. Without it, community support can remain episodic and symbolic. With it, schools may gain something more durable: consistent capacity serving what students, educators and school communities actually need. It is possible to break the pattern. The question is whether other districts are ready to try.

That assumption is not always true. Until very recently, it was not required to be.

On August 29, 2023, 12-year-old Yahushua Robinson went to Canyon Lake Middle School in Lake Elsinore. The high temperature that day reached 107 degrees. According to accounts from the day, Yahushua and other students were sent outside during physical education class and ordered to run laps as punishment for not suiting up in time. Yahushua told the school staff he was not feeling well, said he could not breathe and asked for water.

He was made to keep running.

Yahushua never came home from school that day. The Riverside County Coroner determined his cause of death was a heart defect, with extreme heat and physical exertion listed as contributing factors. His mother, Janee Robinson, is herself a P.E. teacher in the same district. That same afternoon, she kept her own students inside because of the heat. She later said, 鈥淭hese students should not have been outside, and to think that my child died while my students were in.鈥�

That sentence should stop every parent in their tracks.

What Yahushua鈥檚 death exposed was a gap most families had no reason to know existed. In California and across the country, most heat safety policies were written specifically for organized high school athletics: football practice, cross-country and track. A high school football coach may be legally required to follow heat protocols. A middle school P.E. teacher had no comparable legal requirement.

Yahushua was not a high school athlete. He was a 12-year-old in P.E. class, and the system had no uniform standard designed to protect him.

That is what I set out to change.

Less than two weeks after Yahushua鈥檚 death, I prepared a formal advocacy brief on behalf of his family and began building the case for legislation. As a parent and family advocate, I understood that what was missing was not medical knowledge or parental love. What was missing was a legal standard that did not leave child safety to individual judgment during dangerous heat.

State Sen. Melissa Hurtado, a Central Valley Democrat, championed the cause and introduced Senate Bill 1248, with Assemblymember Akilah Weber, a doctor and Democrat representing the San Diego area, as principal co-author. The bill passed unanimously, and Gov. Gavin Newsom signed it into law in September 2024.

That law is known as Yahushua鈥檚 Law.

Here is what it does, and why every California parent needs to know about it before this summer.

聽now requires every school district, county office of education, and charter school in the state to develop, adopt and implement a weather safety policy. The compliance deadline is July 1 鈥� weeks away.

This is not guidance. It is the law.

Every policy must include clear criteria for modifying or suspending outdoor physical activities when conditions become dangerous, procedures for monitoring weather forecasts and alerts, communication plans for staff, students, and parents, access to indoor alternative activities, and staff training to recognize weather-related distress. These policies must be reviewed and updated annually, and the California Department of Education must identify schools that are not in compliance and provide technical assistance.

California now has one of the strongest and broadest student heat safety laws in the country because it covers all students across all grades in school-supervised physical activities, including P.E. class, recess and field trips.

This matters for your child specifically if they have asthma, a heart condition, sickle cell trait, obesity or a medication that affects heat tolerance. It matters if your child has an IEP or a 504 plan. It鈥檚 important because many children are too young, too scared or too overwhelmed to explain clearly and quickly when something is physically wrong.

The American Academy of Pediatrics has  that exertional heat illness in children is preventable when evidence-based protocols are followed by supervising adults. The science behind heat safety laws is not disputed. What has been missing is a requirement to act on medical guidance.

Now, California has that requirement.

But parents still have to ask whether their school is ready. If you live in California, call your district and ask: What is your weather safety policy under SB 1248, and when will staff be trained? If you do not get a clear answer, keep asking. The law says your child鈥檚 school must have this in place, and you have every right to know whether it does.

If you live elsewhere, connect with your own state lawmakers about passing similar legislation. The California law can serve as a model for other states.

Yahushua used to say, 鈥淚 AM HIM.鈥� His family carried those words into legislative hearings, conversations with lawmakers, and every act of advocacy that turned grief into law.

Every child who walks onto a school campus is someone鈥檚 Yahushua. This summer, the adults in California responsible for your children are required to follow a standard designed to bring every student home.

Make sure your school is ready to keep that promise.

Of course, if students don鈥檛 fully master the content in a given class, they may struggle to succeed in the next one. And once they graduate, they could go out into the labor market knowing just a little bit less than they would have otherwise.

Educators across grade have been the about students who aren鈥檛 adequately prepared to succeed in their class. They鈥檝e been forced to adjust their assignments and lower their standards.

But it can be hard to quantify the longer-term impacts of grade inflation.

Now, a from Texas economist Jeffrey Denning makes that connection: His team found that grade inflation actually does lead students to learn a little bit less in school. And, when students who face lower grading standards go out into the labor market, they really do earn a little bit less money than their peers who had to deal with tougher graders.

For a long time, all anyone has known about grade inflation is that it was . Denning鈥檚 paper cites survey evidence from the National Center for Education Statistics showing that high school grade-point averages have risen by 0.48 points since the mid-1980s. College GPAs have risen by almost as much.

To look at both the short- and long-term effects of grade inflation, Denning鈥檚 team used data from the Los Angeles Unified School District and from all public high schools in Maryland. They started by breaking grade inflation into two components. The first is what they call passing-grade inflation, which occurs when a teacher has a low bar for what level of work should receive a D or better, as opposed to an F. The second type is mean grade inflation, which measures how much a teacher raises students鈥� grades, on average, in relation to their objective performance on standardized tests.

It turns out that the two have opposite effects. Passing-grade inflation can benefit students because, with a reduced risk of flunking out, they鈥檙e more likely to stay in school, less likely to be held back and more likely to graduate from high school. Importantly, this type of grade inflation did not seem to harm academic achievement.

However, when teachers inflate the average grade they give out, it has negative effects that begin playing out almost immediately. Students who were taught by a teacher with lower grading standards had observably lower test scores in the following year than their peers whose teachers were tougher graders. This type of grade inflation also reduced high school graduation rates and led to fewer students taking the SAT in preparation for college.

Even worse, Denning鈥檚 team documented that the harmful effects of this type of grade inflation trickle into early adulthood. Compared with students taught by educators with more honest grading standards, students whose teachers inflated their grades were less likely to enroll in any form of postsecondary education and to be employed up to six years after high school graduation (when their study stops). The differences were not that large for any individual, but as a whole, the students with the more lenient teachers earned $56 less one year after graduation and $145 less six years later. Those results were statistically significant and grew over time. Moreover, these estimates are for one student taught by one teacher. A typical high school teacher reducing standards for 90 to 100 students reduced their collective lifetime earnings by $213,872 per year of teaching. 

Denning鈥檚 team did not find that grade inflation was any more or less harmful to certain student groups. But evidence from Virginia suggests that it may be more prevalent in classes with historically underserved students. Matt Hurt, the director of a of public school districts in Virginia, high school test scores in the state and found that, in 2025, 5.5% of white students earned an A in a high school course in the same year they failed the state exam in the same subject. For non-white students, the rate was 12.2%. For students with disabilities, it was 27.2%.听

In other words, Virginia schools tend to be relatively accurate about the chances a white student will pass the state test, while grades are more misleading for kids of color and those with disabilities. Other research has found that lenient grading standards are most harmful to students who are the furthest behind. 

To analyze these disparities in Virginia, Hurt created an index that compared high school course grades against the state鈥檚 end-of-year exams. Because Virginia has tests for a wide variety of grades and subjects, he ended up with a sample of almost 400,000 grades and tests. He found that comparing these was highly predictive of a district鈥檚 overall scores and concluded that 鈥淗igh expectations appear to be one of the major factors which differentiates highly successful divisions, schools and teachers from those less successful.鈥�

The goal for teachers and policymakers should not be harsher grading for its own sake. But as more students appear exceptional on paper, the signaling value of grades has diminished over time. While parents may value course grades, they are, in many instances, being misled about their child鈥檚 true achievement level. Over time, grade inflation risks weakening one of the core purposes of grading: providing honest feedback about where students stand and what they still need to learn.

The Nation’s Report Card released Long-Term Trend assessment data this morning, and the findings are mixed. While 9-year-olds are making progress in math and reading, 13-year-olds have stagnant scores. Across the board, students are largely working below levels seen during the pandemic and around 2012 when achievement was at a high point.

In math, where the declines are sharpest, average scores for 13-year-olds are down roughly 10 points from just before the pandemic and around 15 points from 2012. Average math scores for 9-year-olds are still down too, though they’re now moving in the right direction.

The new report shows trends dating to the 1970s. In reading, 13-year-olds are still working at the same levels as their counterparts then. The report also includes survey questions about student experiences in and outside of school. The share of 9- and 13-year-olds who report they read for fun most days is stuck at historic lows. For example, just 14% of adolescents say they generally read on their own daily. That’s the same as in 2023, but it’s down significantly from 35% in 1985, when the question was first asked. Among 9-year-olds, 37% read almost every day, down from 53% in 1984.

In addition, the share of 9- and 13-year-olds who say they talk about the things they’re learning in school with their family nearly every day is low. Only 1 in 5 13-year-olds report having these regular conversations. Among 9-year-olds, about a third have these talks just about daily. As a book lover, and mom to two school-aged boys, all that hits hard.

I hear all the time from parents who have been told their child is fine but have started to suspect that story is not the whole picture. These new NAEP results confirm something the country has been slow to address: Average scores for students peaked a decade and a half ago.

It’s important to look at what’s changed in schools if parents, policymakers and educators want to improve them. Around the time these declines began, after decades of progress, there was a loosening of policies around the country that brought attention and focus to achievement and made schools more accountable for learning gains.

As accountability loosened, distractions expanded.

The iPhone launched in 2007, when the 13-year-olds working at the 2012 high water mark were 8 years old. Instagram launched when they were 11. They were likely aware of these products and platforms during their adolescent years but not immersed in them. This 2012 cohort may be the last whose childhood happened mostly off a personal screen. It’s notable that students in subsequent grades did worse academically.

The country has spent the last year or so debating phones and artificial intelligence in schools, and confidence in education technology is low. In a recent , half of students said using AI in class makes them feel less connected to their teachers. But the cost of letting that collective distrust harden into blanket rejection is high.

When I taught special education students in New York City, the children in my classroom were the ones a ban on technology would have hurt most. I’ve seen the value of tech tools that help identify learning gaps and support accessibility. It’s imperative for teachers and school and system leaders to be able to tell the difference between research-based learning resources and distraction engines, and be clear in articulating that distinction to parents and teachers.

It is possible to return to an era of progress across subjects and grades if state, district and school leaders focus on creating strong, coherent teaching and learning strategies, taking responsibility for what is and isn’t happening in schools, and building lasting trust with students, families and teachers. Here are ways to help make that happen.

Tell parents the truth, clearly. Schools can send families regular updates on individual student performance and outline how they are addressing areas of concern. States like Arkansas, Texas and Louisiana are starting to promote these practices, and Mississippi provides reports to parents when students need extra help with literacy. But many state and school systems are not being transparent with parents, and are doing much of the hiding.

Make the school-to-home conversation easier. My family gets regular emails home from school with updates and questions that can spark face-to-face conversations with our children. On busy and chaotic days, it’s so helpful to have a prepared question to ask a student, like, “Today in math, children estimated the circumference of a pumpkin or apple by cutting a string and comparing it to their fruit. Ask your child which fruit they chose, and whether their string came out longer or shorter.”

Make AI governance a discipline, not a slogan. AI guidelines must actually be used in schools, not just filed away. They must be clear so they enable school and system leaders to make decisions quickly, learn from what’s happening and adjust as evidence comes in. States and districts should name outcomes before naming tools, audit what they already pay for and design for safety before scale. And, of course, parents and educators should be included at every stage of this work.

Teach every child how to decide. The Alliance for Decision Education and the Burning Glass Institute reviewed 6.8 million U.S. job postings and found 41% required decision- making skills. Educators must help young people understand information they encounter by teaching strong analytical, critical thinking and other skills that will always be in demand. Ensuring that students read broadly, are exposed to a range of perspectives and debate ideas across subjects is a good start.

Put real books back in children’s hands. Schools and libraries should make space and time for kids to pick books they actually want. Let their curiosity be the spark and their choice be the fun. Adults can put reading time on the family calendar. Educators and leaders can offer support for parents who haven’t read aloud since they were kids.

Today, 13-year-olds in the U.S. read at roughly the same achievement level as the federal government assessed more than 50 years ago 鈥� a worrisome sign that education isn’t progressing over time as it should. I don’t believe the solution can be bought or banned. It requires real books, engaging learning opportunities, evidence-based approaches and meaningful data accompanied by the will to act on it. 

Unfortunately, conventional wisdom in American education is that until third grade, students learn to read by building foundational literacy skills, and from fourth grade on they read to learn, mastering subject matter without the need for basic literacy support. This means that after third grade, there鈥檚 no time in the schedule for literacy instruction or intervention, and most secondary school educators aren’t trained to teach it. If you’re a sixth-grade English teacher, you’re expected to focus on literary analysis, not literacy. 

Given that the most recent found that only 31% of fourth graders and 30% of eighth graders read proficiently, it鈥檚 fair to say that this approach is not serving students well. Literacy is a continuum, not a finish line that kids cross at the end of third grade. The two-thirds of students who can鈥檛 read proficiently still need to practice key literacy skills. But that’s not what they’re getting.

A solution is to provide educators and students with a core curriculum that includes supports for students who struggle with reading. For example, eighth graders might be reading To Kill a Mockingbird, with an assignment to discuss the role of racism in the story. Students who can’t read To Kill a Mockingbird can absolutely practice that same grade-level skill with a book that has a slightly more accessible text. The same applies to background knowledge: Students who read about civil rights at a more accessible level than their classmates are able to join the discussion even though they aren鈥檛 yet able to read To Kill a Mockingbird independently. 

Several dozen schools and districts across the country have adopted this approach of embedding grade-level standards into foundational literacy skill instruction, and it has proven effective. In a 2025 conducted by Johns Hopkins University, students at five middle schools showed both increased NWEA MAP scores and a more positive attitude toward reading. In my conversations with middle and high school teachers around the country, I鈥檝e found that they are eager 鈥� even desperate 鈥� for a curriculum that allows their entire class to practice grade-level skills together, regardless of their differences in literacy ability.

Closing the gap between knowledge and practice also requires interdisciplinary communication. When middle and high school teachers collaborate with the reading interventionist, multilingual learners鈥� coordinator or special education teacher about what works for their struggling readers, they can identify strategies to reinforce literacy growth across subject areas.

Students must read to succeed in science, social studies and even math, so all educators must become teachers of literacy who connect the dots among subjects. If students are learning about the water cycle in science, their teacher can introduce the unit with a morphology lesson where students learn the Greek prefix hydr– and the Latin base aqua. They may learn about the Hydra (a serpentine lake monster) when studying Greek mythology in English class and aqueducts when studying Ancient Rome in social studies. Then, they can apply their knowledge of the Greek prefix to understand what it means when a character is dehydrated.

Reinforcing these interconnected threads across subject areas enables students to simultaneously learn grade-level subject matter and strengthen their understanding of how words are formed and meaning changes, based on their structure. For this approach to succeed, secondary school educators in all disciplines need professional development focused on how they can engage and support students with varied literacy skills.  

Engagement is essential because kids who struggle with reading often become discouraged. But when they read about subjects that spark their interest, in a format that feels comfortable, the opposite happens. I believe that when it comes to struggling or reluctant readers, all reading is good reading, whether it鈥檚 in a book or on a tablet, in an audiobook or a graphic novel. 

Students who can’t sound out words but can understand concepts can listen to an audiobook and deepen their knowledge without the barrier of decoding. They can also read an accessible text that uses simplified grammar or defines challenging vocabulary words by offering strong context clues. Once they鈥檙e engaged, students can make amazing leaps quickly, just like my fifth-grade student who was obsessed with the Jonas Brothers. From there, teachers can gradually increase the rigor of the language, enabling students to progress toward the literacy outcomes they need to succeed in school and life.

While teaching literacy can be more challenging in the upper grades, a coherent curriculum that marries engagement with rigorous instruction can not only teach older students how to read, but also inspire them to love reading.

I have an unusual window into what鈥檚 happening in classrooms as CEO of DonorsChoose, which provides resources in 90% of U.S. public schools. Each year, 200,000 teachers post requests on our site.

Since the 2022鈥�23 school year, requests for AI-related tools have surged more than 200%. But what鈥檚 interesting isn鈥檛 the growth. It鈥檚 the purpose.

Teachers are asking, overwhelmingly, for AI-enabled tools to reach students who have been left behind for decades: kids with disabilities as well as those learning English. In fact, 86% of requests are aimed at meeting the needs of students who have historically been underserved. In other words, teachers are turning to AI not only to save themselves time (although it can do that); nearly 9 in 10 are using it to get essential tools to the students who need them most.

For example, a middle school teacher near Atlanta requested AI-powered translation pens. With a simple scan, students can hear text read aloud or translated into more than 100 languages. For children who are learning English, or who struggle with reading comprehension, a $90 pen transforms their school day from frustrating to fulfilling. DonorsChoose has provided hundreds of these pens to teachers, along with more than 1,500 translation devices of other types.

In Chicago, an elementary school STEM teacher looked to AI to modify classroom materials when a child isn鈥檛 understanding a lesson.

In Miami, a middle school math teacher requested software that responds to students鈥� answers with immediate feedback that builds confidence rather than deflating it. Meanwhile, at another Miami middle school, a computer science teacher helps students get under the hood of machine learning by training robots to recognize and react to images. The project opens up discussions about ethics, real-world applications and how AI depends on what humans feed it.

In Detroit, high school educator Carrie Russell uses AI tools to effectively give every student a personalized tutor, expanding her capacity to teach each learner. She鈥檚 also mentoring other teachers about how to ethically and confidently incorporate AI tools into student learning.

These teachers aren鈥檛 asking for anti-cheating software or ways to monitor screen time, which is where much of the public debate is focused. They are experimenting and adapting tools that work for themselves and their students, without waiting for top-down guidance.

It shouldn鈥檛 be surprising that teachers are forging ahead and deploying AI in practical ways without directives from their schools and districts. Teachers have always been first responders to children鈥檚 needs.

In 2011, when American education underwent a seismic shift with states鈥� introduction of new academic standards, classroom teachers sounded the alarm on poor curriculum quality and misalignment to the new standards. Instead of waiting for the market or policy to catch up, they created materials that met the higher bar 鈥� and shared them with peers. 

More recently, on DonorsChoose, educators flagged the COVID pandemic鈥檚 effects on student mental health long before they became a national concern. We saw teachers request food for hungry students when SNAP benefits were disrupted last fall. And we routinely see teachers mobilize following natural disasters to replace what鈥檚 suddenly gone from their classrooms and restore some normalcy in their communities.

AI is the latest disrupter in education. It’s an opportunity to move toward a future when technology expands human potential rather than replaces it, where fairness is built into the design and where every student can experience moments of joy, discovery and magic. Teachers are showing what that can look like 鈥� one classroom at a time.

Early this month, The Center for Reinventing Public Education convened a group of current and former superintendents and experts to help shape questions for a national survey on how district leaders are coping with the financial pressures created by declining enrollment and federal funding cuts. The survey results will come out this fall, but our informants flagged several important considerations that district and state leaders need to grapple with right now, before the next budget cycle, before the next round of collective bargaining.

The financial challenges districts face today are just the beginning. In many districts, the kindergarten and first-grade classes coming through the door are smaller than the ones before. Low birth rates, sharp reductions in immigration, continued family migration away from cities and growing enrollment in charter and private schools of choice are all pushing in the same direction. District leaders who believe they are managing a temporary dip are likely wrong. This is a long-term shift, and the numbers will keep declining as long as newer classes of students are smaller than those they succeed. 

District costs keep rising, so doing nothing is not an option. Even a district that adds no new programs, hires no new staff and signs no new contracts will see its costs rise. Teacher step increases escalate pay automatically without any new collective bargaining agreement. Benefits and energy costs track inflation. Deferred maintenance on buildings and equipment eventually becomes unavoidable. A district can do everything to keep costs steady and still watch its budget deteriorate year by year. As one superintendent put it during our discussion: 鈥淵ou start with the painless solutions… And after a year or two鈥ow you’re into painful cuts.鈥澛�

Parents and voters don’t know how bad it is, and district leaders are keeping them in the dark. The gap between public perception and fiscal reality is wide and growing. Superintendents habitually project confidence and avoid talking through budgetary tradeoffs and hard decisions; explaining what things actually cost often creates confusion, anger and confrontation. Newer leaders often lack the background to understand and explain the complexities of their districts鈥� financial crises. As a result, most people hold significant misconceptions about basic facts, from the real cost of special education services to what teachers take home in pay; they attribute budget shortfalls to mismanagement. As one advisor told us: 鈥淔amilies don’t know this stuff is going on鈥� but they know that their kids are not where they need to be.鈥澛�

This lack of understanding undermines public support when it鈥檚 needed most. Local groups 鈥� including teacher unions, parents protecting schools and programs, social service advocates and others 鈥� fear losing resources they rely on. Since they don鈥檛 have the full picture, they naturally assume that districts can make ends meet if they tighten belts. At a time when teachers and families are facing rising costs in their private lives, many people think of taxpayer-funded schools as flush with resources and able to fill gaps. The lack of clarity from the districts guarantees pushback, and the result is political gridlock, not thoughtful fiscal strategy. This is where many districts across the country are stuck right now.听

States are not coming to the rescue. Federal cuts to domestic programs under the Trump Administration are setting off intense competition for state dollars. Schools will not be alone in that fight. Healthcare, transportation, housing and other civic necessities will be pressing state legislatures at the same time. The idea that states will ride to the rescue of districts facing structural deficits is not realistic in this environment. And it is disingenuous for district leaders to suggest this is a solution.

Our advisors were honest that they do not have a full set of answers. But they were clear that superintendents cannot afford to wait for the survey results, or for clearer signals from Washington or for the next school board election. CRPE has been studying and the for more than 30 years, and we have seen what works 鈥� and what doesn鈥檛 鈥� for struggling districts. Here are some ways districts can act now to start telling the truth and prepare for what鈥檚 to come. 

First, calculate and forecast honest numbers. Not optimistic enrollment projections or revenue figures that assume federal dollars that may not arrive. Real numbers, with real ranges of uncertainty, shared internally first and then publicly with enough context so people understand how the situation got so bad, and what鈥檚 at stake. 

Then, go public with what you know and ask for help. Community members cannot engage in a meaningful way if they don’t understand the situation. The instinct to project confidence by withholding bad news almost always backfires, and it precludes the public conversation that might actually generate support for difficult decisions. Asking for help will generate new ideas and also build trust.

That means no longer pretending that extreme measures are off the table. If teacher layoffs and school closures are genuinely avoidable right now, say so, but don鈥檛 rule anything out entirely. Setting clear and realistic expectations will build trust and credibility that can help if the situation worsens. 

And it requires building real relationships with state officials and legislators, not just formal contacts. District leaders who have honest, ongoing conversations with their state counterparts will be better positioned to make their case when state budgets are being divided up. For their part, state education associations should be ready to step in with more accurate forecasts, financial expertise and support to superintendents and school boards stuck in gridlock.

Telling the truth isn鈥檛 a complete solution for climbing out of budget crises that are years in the making, but it is a starting point for thousands of local efforts to preserve children’s opportunities under conditions that our institutions were never designed to handle. 

The survey we are fielding this fall may reveal examples of districts that have found better answers. We hope it will. But the place to start is not with waiting for more data. Instead, leaders who have a stake in their public schools must gear up for tough conversations and tell the truth about where things stand.

Fair enough, perhaps. But in many ways, the episode serves as a case study in how political turf battles and institutional considerations can take precedence over even the most widely supported, logical measures, an outcome that鈥檚 particularly frustrating when benefits for students are on the line.听

The governor鈥檚 decision is disappointing, particularly because this bill represented one of the most cost-neutral, evidence-based opportunities available to improve children鈥檚 health. But in many ways, the veto was also a reminder of just how politically complicated school legislation can become, even when the underlying ideas enjoy broad bipartisan support. 

As it turns out, the recess and fitness provisions in Kansas had already been through the wringer, with competing political, institutional and industry interests swirling around them. They had already survived an unusually turbulent legislative journey 鈥� one deeply entangled with a separate and far more contentious debate 鈥� over pesticides, of all things. 

I should know. In late March, I spent three days on the ground in Kansas, moving between legislative offices, committee rooms and hallway conversations, speaking with lawmakers about improving health outcomes for the state鈥檚 students. At the center of those conversations was a school lunch bill, , originally designed to remove harmful additives from school meals. This was a policy that, on its face, seemed like a clear, bipartisan win.

But by the time I arrived, that bill had been amended to protecting pesticide manufacturers. Suddenly, a straightforward conversation about children鈥檚 health had become entangled in a much larger fight over industry protections and regulatory authority.

Specifically, the amendment introduced provisions shielding pesticide manufacturers from having to comply with state warning or labeling requirements that go beyond federal standards, which many deem to be insufficient. Some pesticides, such as paraquat, have been linked with chronic-disease pathology in epidemiological research 鈥� evidence compelling enough that Vermont lawmakers passed the on paraquat last month, citing growing concerns about neurological harm. Recent  has shown a strong association between paraquat exposure and Parkinson鈥檚 disease risk, for example.

The newly amended bill advanced out of the House Agriculture Committee, and suddenly, a straightforward public-health measure had become something far more complicated.

Over the next several days, I met with lawmakers across both chambers, including legislative leadership, to walk through what had happened and what was at stake. With the help of Republican Senate President Ty Masterson, I talked about the risks of chronic disease 鈥� not as an abstract issue, but as something increasingly affecting children. I connected the dots between food environments, physical activity and long-term health outcomes. And I made the case that the pesticide provisions not only undermined the original intent of the bill but risked derailing it entirely.

Those conversations had an impact. After our chats, lawmakers decided not to continue advancing the bill in its amended form. Instead, they looked for a way to preserve policy concepts that can meaningfully support student health. The solution emerged from negotiations in conference committee: creating a new legislative vehicle that included school lunch reform, daily recess for students and restoration of the Presidential Fitness Test.

conducted on behalf of my organization, End Chronic Disease, 88% of voters support increasing physical activity in schools. And no wonder: It鈥檚 one of the most evidence-based ways to improve children鈥檚 lives.

Regular movement supports cardiovascular health, reduces the risk of obesity and Type 2 diabetes, and has been shown to improve focus, behavior and academic performance. For many children, especially those without access to safe outdoor spaces or structured activities, school may be the only place they consistently get that opportunity.

Yet even with the bill鈥檚 new emphasis, the politics surrounding it never fully disappeared.

As negotiations continued, the school lunch provisions were removed amid pushback tied to the broader pesticide debate. In the final hours before the last legislative deadline of the year, the bill with its focus on recess and physical fitness passed both chambers, only to be rejected in late April by Gov. Kelly鈥檚 veto.

It鈥檚 important to acknowledge what this process revealed. A bill focused on removing harmful additives from school meals, something that should have been a 鈥渘o-brainer,鈥� was effectively derailed once it became entangled with the interests of another industry.

The speed with which unrelated pesticide provisions were inserted and the ripple effects that followed underscore how difficult it can be to advance even widely supported educational policies. Too often, such measures with broad public backing become secondary to institutional turf battles, procedural maneuvering and competing political incentives. 

Luckily, the medical establishment is starting to weigh in more forcefully. Just this month, the American Academy of Pediatrics issued describing recess as essential to children鈥檚 health and development and warning against withholding it for disciplinary or academic reasons. In other words, pediatricians increasingly understand movement not as a luxury, but as preventive medicine. It will be interesting to see how K-12 schools adjust to this guidance. 

Kansas ultimately did not follow suit this year. But if the legislative conversations I witnessed firsthand are any indication 鈥� as well as the new, encouraging guidance from the AAP 鈥� the broader direction of the conversation is changing. Someday, our schools will catch up, and students everywhere will benefit mentally, physically and academically.听聽

I knew I wanted to be one of the engineers building this future. But at the end of middle school, the time I spent in class felt stale and unambitious, like just another obstacle separating me from my goals. I wanted to take my education more seriously.

So I transferred to the Academy of Seminole, a charter school in Seminole, Oklahoma that offers more opportunities to move forward faster. 

The new environment took some getting used to, but I thoroughly enjoyed the challenging classes, engaging teachers and new friends during my first two years of high school. The real turning point came at the end of sophomore year, when we all began finalizing our upperclassman plans.

TAOS challenges us to start our postsecondary education early through college or vocational dual enrollment or Vo-Tech. With the contrast of a traditional high school timeline fresh in my mind, I wanted to squeeze as much utility out of the next two years as possible.

I decided to take college courses at Seminole State College to graduate with an associate鈥檚 degree like many other students at TAOS. At the same time, I enrolled in Gordon Cooper Technology Center鈥檚 machining program. 

Machining is the most precise form of mechanical manufacturing, so the trade appealed to my love of mechanical systems. For me as an engineer, it offered a better understanding of how projects are made, giving me a unique perspective to design for manufacturability. 

I also wanted a way to pay for my education to avoid student loans, so developing a valuable technical skill alongside college coursework made perfect sense. Even better, TAOS covered the remaining tuition and fees not paid by the state, removing any financial worry.

The biggest challenge was simply fitting everything into the day. My physics class ran until 1:35 p.m., but my Vo-Tech work started at 1. My college classes stretched into the late afternoon. I missed more class time than I liked and weathered quite a few late nights to make it work. But with the support of all three schools and my family, I graduated high school already four years into my postsecondary education.

For a long time, my post-graduation plan was simple: attend a local university close to home and earn my engineering degree while using my machine training to keep me debt-free. Then, while filling out scholarships in senior year, I discovered the QuestBridge National College Match and applied on a whim. To my surprise, I became a finalist. For the first time, I realized I was a nationally competitive student who could attend an elite university.

While I didn’t match through QuestBridge, I still applied to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and after a few weeks of anxious waiting, I was admitted with financial aid that completely covers my cost of attendance. Without even realizing it, I had been studying under the exact educational philosophy laid out by the MIT motto: 鈥淢ens et Manus鈥� or 鈥淢ind and Hand鈥� by applying myself both academically and technically. 

Looking back, I鈥檝e grown so much since I was that pessimistic eighth grader. I found an ocean of opportunity at my three schools. More importantly, I found a community of people who believed in me and helped me become capable of far more than I once imagined.

Now, I look forward to pursuing a bachelor鈥檚 degree, and hopefully a PhD, in nuclear engineering at MIT. I plan to use my education to help pioneer new methods of producing abundant, safe and clean energy. I鈥檝e already come farther than I once imagined, but I鈥檓 nowhere close to done yet. I can鈥檛 wait to see what challenge my ambition drags me into next and to meet the great people who will help me overcome it.

Schools have responded with attendance campaigns, tutoring and family outreach. These strategies matter. But they often treat absenteeism primarily as a logistical problem, when for many students it is fundamentally an engagement problem.

Many young people who miss school are struggling with anxiety, social disconnection, academic frustration or a lack of belonging. In other words, they are disengaged long before they become absent.

One overlooked contributor to this disengagement is how young people spend their time outside of school and the kind of boredom they experience there.

Today鈥檚 young people are spending an alarming amount of time in passive, solitary screen use. American teenagers average more than scrolling social feeds, watching videos or gaming alone for hours on end. has heavy passive screen use among adolescents to increased anxiety, sleep disruption and lower well-being.

What young people need more of is the opposite: active, unstructured , time spent walking in and .

Afternoons that once included neighborhood play, outdoor exploration or community activities are increasingly being replaced by solitary time spent on digital devices. Meanwhile, many schools have reduced recess, arts and experiential learning in favor of more instructional time to improve academic performance.

Ironically, that combination may make it harder for some students to stay engaged with school.

This is where afterschool programs, youth organizations and camps can make a meaningful difference. shows that these and other types of out-of-school-time programs can help students develop social and emotional foundations that support school engagement.

Programs run by organizations such as Boys and Girls Clubs of America, YMCA, 4-H, Camp Fire and thousands of local community organizations share several characteristics that appear to matter most.

First, they provide hands-on learning opportunities that differ from the traditional classroom. Whether building a robotics project, cooking together, being exposed to outdoor skills or working on creative arts, these activities allow students to experience curiosity and a sense of accomplishment in low-pressure environments.

Second, they foster meaningful relationships with peers and mentors, including adults who are not grading their academic assignments but supporting their growth. These connections help students build confidence, navigate social challenges and develop a stronger sense of belonging. has found that strong developmental relationships with adults are closely associated with higher school engagement and motivation.

Third, these programs often combine academic support with recreation. Homework help, literacy activities or STEM projects are embedded within collaborative and social settings. This balance allows students to rebuild academic confidence while still experiencing autonomy and enjoyment. For students who feel overwhelmed in traditional academic environments, these programs can provide an important bridge back to engagement.

Yet access to these programs remains uneven. According to the , about 22 million children in the United States would enroll in an afterschool program if one were available to them. Cost, transportation barriers and limited program capacity often prevent participation, particularly in lower-income communities.

If policymakers are serious about addressing chronic absenteeism, expanding access to high-quality youth programs should be .

That means several things. States and districts should treat afterschool and summer programs as a core component of their chronic absenteeism strategies, not an afterthought. Federal Title IV funding under the can be directed toward community-based youth programs, and more districts should use it that way.

Schools can also build formal partnerships with organizations such as Camp Fire, Boys and Girls Clubs and local YMCAs, to help students connect with them rather than relying on parents and guardians to find these programs on their own. Transportation, one of the most stubborn barriers to participation, can be addressed through late bus routes or coordinated ride-sharing arrangements. And in communities where demand far outpaces capacity, philanthropic and corporate investment in program expansion can help close the gap.

These programs should not be treated as simply another academic intervention. Their value lies in offering something different from the classroom. They create environments where young people can explore, collaborate, take healthy risks and experience the kind of unstructured, active time that fuels creativity and resilience.

In a world saturated with digital distractions and constant pressure, students may not need more stimulation. They may need more opportunities to reconnect with curiosity, community and purpose.

Those experiences may happen after school, in a community center, in a makerspace or around a campfire. But they can help students rediscover a reason to show up in the classroom.

More than 40 years later, students are still fighting to have a voice in their education. But they’re not quietly accepting being silenced or disengaging. When young people feel their voices don’t matter in school decisions, they’re taking their concerns elsewhere: to newspaper editorials, sidewalks and courtrooms that challenge the adults in charge. This generation expects to be heard.

In , after families and students raised attendance and budget concerns through official district channels and were met with silence, they organized a mass sick-out to protest district policies. After the Apalachee High School shooting in Georgia, students from more than 30 schools , demanding action on gun safety after their calls for policy changes through normal school channels went unanswered.

When , were informed the principal would have final say over what could be published in their newspaper, they spent months working through official channels on a policy proposal. But the school board’s proposed update included none of the students’ requested protections. They published a scathing editorial, forcing a delay and, ultimately, a policy revision.

Some students have gone even further to make their voices heard. In Newark, 16- and 17-year-olds successfully advocated for school board elections, arguing that students should have a say in decisions that directly affect their education. And students in Kentucky , arguing that inadequate education funding violates their rights.

These stories represent a fundamental shift in how students view their relationship with educational institutions and what happens when districts fail to create meaningful channels for young people’s input. 

Research confirms the benefits of asking students for their perspectives and listening to what they have to say. The Quaglia Institute鈥檚 of more than 100,000 students in grades 6 to 12 found that those who believe they have a voice in school are 48% more likely to report being academically motivated and 41% more likely to report being engaged in learning. Notably, the sense of having a voice declines steadily as students age鈥攆rom 59% of sixth graders to just 46% of 12th graders 鈥� meaning districts are losing students precisely when the stakes are highest. These outcomes are undermined when students lack an authentic voice in decisions affecting them.

This gap between consultation and genuine engagement is what’s driving students to seek alternative channels for their concerns. But here’s what can happen when districts create authentic engagement opportunities.

At a high school in when students complained that social-emotional learning felt scripted and meaningless, administrators handed the redesign process over to them. Students surveyed their peers, identified what each grade level needed and created a program where seniors mentor younger students through workshops on everything from time management to conflict resolution. The resulting programming resonated with students because it emerged from student experiences, not adult assumptions. In fact, that students given genuine roles in school reform 鈥� reviewing curriculum, advising on instruction, bridging teacher and student perspectives 鈥� helps measurably improve teacher-student relationships.

In , students spent two years rewriting district policy, creating Mental Health Week and organizing community forums with school board candidates. The Student Voice Council operates as a genuine partner in district governance.

In Grandville, Michigan, a meets monthly, and students have shaped everything from classroom furniture to the district鈥檚 artificial intelligence policy and new course offerings including an aeronautics program. In Medford Township, New Jersey, a has students presenting at staff meetings and driving solutions to real policy questions, including the school鈥檚 smartphone policy. 

One of the great shapers of modern K-12 education, John Dewey, saw public school as the key to preparing . But a found that while 68% of students want to help others, only 44% feel confident they can make a difference and just 30% take civic action. That confidence gap closes when students get to shape their environment.

Empowering students with voice doesn鈥檛 mean handing over the keys to the school. It means inviting meaningful input while keeping adult leadership and accountability in place. Schools that provide genuine ways for students to advocate, organize and create change are preparing the next generation for participatory democracy.

This evolution in student voice represents both a challenge and an opportunity for districts. Schools can continue to treat student input as a public relations exercise while making decisions in closed-door meetings, which increasingly leads to external conflicts that damage trust and disrupt learning 鈥� or they can recognize that true student engagement requires genuine power-sharing. This means giving students real roles in policy development, creating transparent processes for addressing their concerns and accepting that this sometimes brings uncomfortable feedback.

Students are finding their voices with or without permission. The question is whether districts will listen before they’re forced to respond.

I grew up hearing that line. However bad things were in Oklahoma 鈥� from teacher pay to life expectancy 鈥� our nation鈥檚 poorest state, Mississippi, was presumed to have it worse. It was a cruel quip, but also a comforting one. At least somebody was behind us.

In education, however, that old prayer of gratitude has become obsolete. Mississippi, for one, has posted impressive gains in student learning, especially in the early grades. Oklahoma has been moving in the opposite direction. According to I conducted of National Assessment of Educational Progress data, the Sooner State now ranks 48th in the nation when fourth and eighth grade math and reading results are combined. Among the dozen states in the region, Oklahoma ranks dead last.

That is bad news for Oklahoma, but it is also a warning to every state that assumes lasting decline can鈥檛 happen there. 

In the 1990s, Oklahoma was not a superstar, but neither was it an educational basketcase. The state generally hovered around the national average and occasionally beat the average. And for years, Oklahoma outperformed Louisiana, Mississippi and Tennessee on the Nation鈥檚 Report Card. What I found when examining the NAEP scores over time is not just that Oklahoma ranks near the bottom today, but that Oklahoma experienced a generational erosion of performance that unfolded over decades and accelerated after 2015. 

Oklahoma鈥檚 math scores were on the rise until around 2015, when math scores plateaued before steep declines during the COVID-19 era. Because most states鈥� math in the era following the passage of No Child Left Behind, Oklahoma鈥檚 score increases did not translate into rankings increases, and the state fell from 30th to 40th in the nation in math scores from 2000 to 2015. Since then, Oklahoma鈥檚 math scores have dropped sharply, with declines larger than many other states, even as the entire .

In reading, the story is simpler: Oklahoma has experienced both relative and absolute decline over the last decade. In 2024, Oklahoma posted its worst reading scores on record in both fourth grade and eighth grade. In the years since 2015, the state鈥檚 reading rank fell from 34th to 48th.听

These shifts are sobering, but they are also confounding. Oklahoma has not experienced a unique economic shock or demographic shift that obviously accounts for the scale of its educational decline. Indeed, all but one major student group in Oklahoma performs poorly relative to comparable students in other states. 

White students, Hispanic students, Black students, wealthier students and poorer students all significantly underperform the national average. Only Native American students stand out positively, ranking first nationally among the 14 states with sufficient data to report scores. It is common to explain away weak test scores with demographics. But when a state鈥檚 relatively advantaged students also post dismal results compared with their peers elsewhere, demographics are probably not the main story.

The regional picture looks even worse. Oklahoma now ranks last among the 12 states in the region in combined math and reading achievement. Oklahoma鈥檚 current regional ranking is attributable not only to Oklahoma鈥檚 decline, but also to experiencing noteworthy change. Tennessee was the first state in the region to pull ahead of Oklahoma, overtaking it in 2013. Mississippi surpassed Oklahoma in 2019, followed by Louisiana, which passed Oklahoma in 2022. 

It鈥檚 a depressing state of affairs for Oklahoma, but Oklahomans are unlikely to accept this story as final. Public frustration with the state鈥檚 education system is rising, according to . The state鈥檚 schools are , and policymakers are increasingly looking to for ideas. 

The larger lesson is not just for Oklahoma. Educational decline can happen slowly, almost invisibly, until it becomes impossible to ignore. Other states should take note before they find themselves becoming someone else鈥檚 punchline.