The details vary, but one theme emerges repeatedly: Obtaining support often depends less on a child’s needs than on a parent’s ability to understand and navigate complex education laws and systems, ask the right questions and persist when answers are unclear.

Last winter, NCLD convened a focus group of Family Leadership Council members representing families across the country. Despite differences in geography and school systems, parents described remarkably similar experiences, including opaque processes, inconsistent communication and a system that left them feeling responsible for navigating special education on behalf of their children. One participant described it as “playing a game I didn’t have the rules to.”

Parents shouldn鈥檛 be required to act as case managers

Nearly every parent described being handed forms to sign with little explanation. One mother recalled sitting in meetings 鈥渨ith people who had language I didn鈥檛 understand so I couldn鈥檛 respond in an educated way.鈥� Another parent spent hours building her own data presentations to prove her child wasn鈥檛 making progress 鈥� work that felt necessary to ensure someone was monitoring it. 

In special education, families cannot be true partners when they do not understand the rules, processes or terminology shaping decisions about their child鈥檚 education. Collaboration requires transparency. Families cannot participate as equal partners when they lack clear information about how and why decisions are being made.  

When schools rely on parents to push for services using sophisticated advocacy skills, that widens inequities for children whose caregivers lack time, resources or English proficiency. has consistently documented disparities in special education access and parent participation based on socioeconomic resources, language proficiency and knowledge of school systems.

Many children in the focus group had more than one disability. Yet parents repeatedly described schools treating a single diagnosis as a catch-all explanation for every challenge a child faced. One mother shared that her district insisted her son鈥檚 autism accounted for all his learning needs, despite clear signs of dyslexia. Another parent鈥檚 child was initially labeled with a 鈥減rocessing disorder,鈥� only to later receive diagnoses of dyslexia, ADHD and anxiety after an outside evaluation. Their experiences reflect a broader reality: Learning disabilities with conditions such as ADHD, autism spectrum disorder and anxiety disorders 鈥� making comprehensive evaluation essential.聽

Relying on a single diagnosis delays identification, intervention and learning. Meanwhile, the child continues to struggle academically, emotionally and socially.

Outside evaluations and parent advocacy shouldn鈥檛 be the only path to clarity

Five of the 14 children discussed in the focus group received outside evaluations because parents felt their concerns were not being fully heard or addressed. These evaluations were expensive, time-consuming and often the only way families could get answers. Parents described the relief of finally understanding what was going on 鈥� and the frustration that it took so much effort to get there.

When schools resist diagnoses or updating evaluations, families with resources find workarounds, while families without resources have no choice but to wait. And waiting has consequences, including widening skill gaps, increased anxiety, and a growing sense of failure in children who are trying their hardest. They are not lazy or unintelligent; they鈥檙e struggling with needs that have not yet been adequately identified or addressed.聽

One of the most powerful themes was how many parents grew into advocates not just for their own children, but for others. Several now work in organizations supporting families navigating the special education system. They do this because they know “what happens when children don’t get the services they need.” They have witnessed the consequences firsthand.

But their stories raise an important question: Why should families have to become advocates simply to secure appropriate support? Parent advocacy is valuable, but it should be a safeguard when systems fail, not the force that makes them work.

What schools can do differently starting now: 

The stories parents shared point to clear, actionable steps schools can take to make early learning disability identification more transparent, equitable and respectful of families鈥� experiences. 

• Communicating in plain language. Parents need to understand evaluations, timelines, and their rights before making decisions.

• Evaluating the whole child. One diagnosis should not prevent further assessment when concerns remain.

• Make progress transparent. Families should receive regular, understandable updates about goals, growth and next steps.

The parents in NCLD’s focus group were persistent, resourceful and determined. Many eventually secured the services their children needed. But children should not receive different opportunities simply because one family knows how to navigate special education while another does not. 

Advocacy matters. Yet it should function as a safeguard, not a requirement. Schools cannot eliminate every obstacle families face, but they can ensure that access to services depends on student needs rather than parental advocacy skills. That’s not just good practice. It’s a matter of educational equity.

It is a fair question, and often the right one. But before we look at home, I have learned to look at the ride. 

Transportation is usually treated as logistics. A bus shows up, a student gets on, and then the day begins. For most students, that is close enough to true. For students with special needs, experiencing homelessness, in foster care or needing a vehicle outside the standard bus route, the ride means much more than that. It is the first structured interaction of their day, and it sets the tone for everything that follows. 

Recent backs up what I see in my district every morning. Sixty-nine percent of caregivers say a reliable ride leaves their child noticeably calmer. Students who arrive after a smooth transportation morning are far more likely to be calm and ready to learn than students who arrive after a difficult one. 

Behind those numbers are real students who often are unable to manage anxiety about how they get to school. Inconsistent transportation can have a huge impact on academic and social-emotional well-being for these students every day. 

In our Illinois district, we schedule alternative transportation 鈥� typically vans and cars sent out on regular routes 鈥� to arrive at least 20 minutes ahead of the bell, because we do not know whether a student had breakfast at home. Maybe they did not have time, or the food was not available for them. That 20-minute cushion is one less barrier for a student who already has enough to manage, and it means they get a warm meal and a few minutes to settle before class starts. 

The other piece is the driver. Students on alternative transportation do not always have consistency anywhere else in their day. We cannot always know what happens before they get into the vehicle or after it drops them off. What we can control is whether the same driver shows up at the same time in the same vehicle. That predictability becomes something a student and a family can count on. What鈥檚 more, consistency gives the driver a chance to notice when something is off and pass it along before it becomes a bigger problem. 

Transportation can also quickly become a compliance issue for districts that serve certain vulnerable student populations. The federal McKinney-Vento law requires districts to provide a ride to school to students experiencing homelessness, and other federal laws require that foster children and students with individualized education programs or 504 plans receive transportation help as needed.  Two thirds of administrators nationally have seen transportation issues affect their McKinney-Vento or foster care obligations, and 54% report falling short of services they are legally required to provide. 

In my experience, the biggest gap is under-identification. If a student is not flagged as experiencing homelessness under McKinney-Vento鈥檚 definitions, transportation never gets triggered, and the compliance clock starts working against the district before anyone even realizes it. That is why our McKinney-Vento parent liaisons build relationships early, so families understand what they qualify for and what the timeline looks like, rather than discovering it weeks into the school year. 

I also want to push back on one instinct I see in districts who are watching every dollar, which is pretty much everyone these days. When a neighboring district asked me what our alternative transportation partnership costs, my honest answer was that it is not the cheapest option available. It is also not the same value as the cheapest option available. 

A day-and-night taxi will get a student from one address to another, but that is a ride, not a service. A service means cameras and GPS tracking on every vehicle, background-checked drivers, and a partner who tells you within 24 hours whether they can meet a student’s needs and holds to it. These are still our students. I would not put anything less in a vehicle with my own children, and I am not willing to put anything less in a vehicle with someone else’s. 

None of this is complicated, and none of it requires a bigger budget than most districts already have. It requires treating the ride to school as part of the school day rather than a separate problem to be solved. When we do that, attendance 鈥� and the attendance-based funding many districts rely on 鈥� follows. So does trust, from families who have too often been told to wait five days for a solution that should take one conversation. Consistency is the structural piece that makes every other investment in a student’s education stick.

The discussion on NY Inspires, the state鈥檚 ambitious plan to overhaul secondary education, centered on the decision to decouple the state鈥檚 Regents exams as a graduation requirement, beginning in the 2027-28 school year. Students will still take the exams, administered , to meet federal accountability rules. But graduation will no longer be tied to scores.

While EdTrust-New York supports additional flexibility for graduation requirements, we are deeply concerned the state is moving forward with this change without putting an alternative system in place to measure whether students are ready for success after high school. 

Now is not the time for New York to weaken the state鈥檚 only objective measure of high school readiness. Doing so could mask the deep challenges facing our schools and students while making it even harder for parents, employers and colleges to determine whether students have the skills they need to succeed after graduation. 

State, national and international data show that New York students continue to struggle with reading and math. In 2025, the state鈥檚 graduation rate reached 85%, yet only 56% of students passed the Algebra 1 Regents Exam. And on the 2024 NAEP, only 31% of 8th graders entering high school were proficient in reading. Just this week, the that U.S. 15-year-olds scored near their lowest levels in reading and math since 2000. 

These numbers reveal a clear disconnect between the assessment data showing a math and literacy crisis, and what the New York State Education Department (NYSED) considers college and career readiness.  

Standardized assessments such as Regents exams are far from perfect. But they are not responsible for New York鈥檚 poor reading and math outcomes. Simply changing graduation requirements will not solve the underlying problem: New York is failing to prepare its students 鈥� particularly Black and Latinx students, students from low-income households, students with disabilities and multilingual learners 鈥� with the foundational skills they need for post-secondary success.  

Even more alarming than the policy itself is the poor roll out of NY Inspires. As the new school year gets underway, schools still face significant confusion and a lack of guidance about how they will measure proficiency in core high school subjects instead of Regents exams for current high school students in less than a year. 

If the state Education Department truly wants to create a new graduation standard and position New York as a national leader preparing students to become 21st Century learners, it should not eliminate Regents exams as a graduation requirement without first establishing a credible alternative. State leaders should provide schools with clear expectations, reliable measures and the resources they need before they weaken an existing statewide standard.  

When state leaders roll out poorly thought-out policies, the students most likely to suffer are those whom our school system already serves least well. New York should also learn from the experiences of states such as Maine, New Hampshire and Vermont, which attempted similar competency-based graduation reforms before scaling them back or abandoning them amid concerns about equity, inconsistent definitions of proficiency and an inadequate educator capacity and training. 

The state should pause the implementation of NY Inspires, including the elimination of Regents exams as a graduation requirement. Before moving forward, the department should make a concerted effort to provide schools with the guidance, rubrics, and statewide calibrations they need to implement NY Inspires effectively, equitably and transparently. 

New York can and should rethink how it measures student readiness. But it should not remove the measuring stick before it has built a better one.

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

I am one of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The problem? To meet , schools of them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Teachers face mounting, intersecting challenges

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

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

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

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

Helping teachers scale what they鈥檝e always done instinctively 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what if our students didn鈥檛 have to choose between the two? Imagine a student who excels in AP English discovering, through an internship at a tech company, how their passion for the written word can lead to a lucrative career in technical writing. Or a student earning a welding certification who enrolls in business classes that challenge them to think beyond employment to entrepreneurship.

As district leaders, we have to ask ourselves: Despite our best intentions, have we unknowingly limited students鈥� potential by creating rigid pathways that separate academic achievement from career exploration? 

For , it鈥檚 a question we needed to answer for our own students. What we discovered in talking with other innovative schools across the country changed our entire approach to career-connected learning . Today, DPS is considered by members of the a model to be studied on a national level; and as its superintendent, I have been named to the to speak on the district鈥檚 approach to career-connected learning.

Today, have CTE programs, and each looks completely different. In some cases, CTE is designed as , giving struggling students an 鈥渙ut鈥� from college preparation. In others, tech-focused, dual-credit courses are reserved for top-performing students.

As home to Connecticut鈥檚 largest high school, DPS understood this divide all too well. The district offered a CTE program, including a successful Certified Nursing Assistant pathway. Despite overwhelming interest, only 60 students could be accepted each year, closing opportunities for many qualified and motivated students. 

Meanwhile, graduation rates and student engagement were on a downward spiral. Recognizing that career  opportunities aligned with students鈥� interests for the future, DPS sought to create an equitable learning experience for all students, not just high achievers.

Building on best practices from National Career Academy Coalition nationwide, DPS launched , the Northeast鈥檚 first wall-to-wall career academy model. With eight academies 鈥� including Clean Energy, Green Design, Information Technology and Cybersecurity 鈥� students can explore 21 career pathways.

The academies are challenging the misconception that career pathways are only for those students heading directly to work after high school. Durable skills built through real-world, hands-on experiences 鈥� like critical thinking, adaptability and conflict management 鈥� are at every level of industry. Employers report that many young workers, including, are missing the critical skills essential for professional success. By equipping students with workplace competencies now, we can give them a meaningful advantage whenever they enter the job market.

Unlike traditional career programs that layer electives into a traditional classroom structure, the new generation of public school academies are built around exploration. There鈥檚 no 鈥済eneral track鈥� here 鈥� every student follows a career-connected pathway that allows for job shadowing, project-based learning, certifications and internships. The model ensures opportunities once reserved for a select group of students are available to everyone, including those who thrive in areas often overlooked by CTE programs, such as the arts and humanities.

Just as important, students are not sorted into pathways by a transcript or test score. They are empowered to discover their own path. In Danbury, freshmen are embedded in a year-long exploration of their interests, career goals and available opportunities. Through a variety of activities, including career fairs and industry field trips, they gain the insights needed to rank the pathways they plan to pursue in grades 10 to 12 based on their passions instead of their GPA. That freedom gives students a sense of ownership over their education, which becomes a powerful catalyst for engagement.

Finally, career exploration should open doors, not lock students into a single pathway. Educators must work with students to switch pathways if needed and adjust electives to meet their evolving interests. 

For example, a student pursuing a CNA certification may discover a hospital setting is not the right fit for them. However, through their Academy pathway, they may uncover aligned opportunities in fields such as social work or biomedical research. By adjusting their plans in high school, students avoid costly major changes in college and the debt that comes with them.

One of the most significant deterrents to building a robust CTE program is the . Investing in advanced instructional technologies, hiring additional staff and retrofitting existing buildings is often out of bounds for districts on tight budgets. 

Ensuring that a highly-trained workforce is ready to solve the requires businesses and trade associations to play a bigger role in preparing tomorrow鈥檚 talent. That includes opening their doors to students and offering mentorships, internships and hands-on learning that bring high school lessons to life.

At the same time, federal and state leaders must invest in the programs that prepare students for the jobs of tomorrow. Despite being one of the lowest-funded districts in Connecticut, DPS has scaled our program with intention, securing grant funding that has enabled us to invest in a new cybersecurity lab, advanced CAD equipment and drafting tables.

Since the launch of The Academies of Danbury High School in 2024, the district is already seeing its impact firsthand. While it will be four years before DPS has a complete picture of graduation trends, the early results are promising. The overall graduation rate rose 6.4 percentage points in one year, from 76.6% in 2024 to 83% in 2025. Among English learners, the increase was even greater: 17.9 percentage points, from 52.8% to 70.7%.

Rates increased by 10.2 percentage points among Hispanic students and male students, 7.1 points among high-needs students, 5.9 points among Black students and 5.4 points among Asian students. These results, alongside improved attendance and engagement, reflect students鈥� stronger connection to school and greater investment in their learning. Student focus groups also report high satisfaction with opportunities to choose and complete meaningful, hands-on work that builds toward a potential career.

As districts across the country grapple with student disengagement and declining test scores, we have to realize no superhero is coming to save the day. We have to put on our own capes 鈥� to be bold enough to reimagine the traditional learning model as a system that centers on every student鈥檚 career aspiration and unlimited potential. When learning is connected to purpose, students don’t just perform better; they become empowered to thrive in both the classroom and their future careers.

The clearest evidence is teen employment, which alone has been for nearly 50 years. 

The , “A Digital Divide in American Adolescence,” by Daniel Cox of the American Enterprise Institute’s Survey Center on American Life, was published in mid-August. It draws on the results of the , whose interviews were conducted in January and February with teens aged 13 to 17.聽

The study’s first key finding is that the bottom rung of the career ladder is disappearing. A generation ago, a summer job or an afterschool shift was a routine rite of passage. It was a place where teenagers learned to show up on time, take direction from someone who wasn’t a parent or teacher and get paid for reliability rather than talent. But today, only 15% of teens in the survey reported having a part-time job, and just 28% even among 16- and 17-year-olds 鈥� the group most likely to work. Bureau of Labor Statistics show teen labor force participation peaked at nearly 58% in the late 1970s and has been falling ever since. 

The survey also shows that even within adolescence itself, opportunities for growth become rarer as students age. Travel sports participation among boys falls from 52% in early adolescence to 35% by age 16 or 17; choir and band participation among girls falls from 30% to 17%; and only 7% of teens are in student government or debate.

None of these activities is glamorous. But they鈥檙e the low-stakes, repeatable settings where teenagers practice commitment, teamwork and how to lose gracefully. They鈥檙e the soft infrastructure that makes a first real job, internship or semester of college survivable rather than disorienting.

When that infrastructure thins out, an shows up later. Employers often young workers lack basic job skills. The real problem is many never had the chance to practice them.

The AEI survey’s second finding is that this erosion isn’t evenly distributed. Teens with college-educated parents participate in extracurriculars at roughly double the rate of peers whose parents didn’t attend college. Nearly 1 in 4 are in an academic club, compared with 13% of teens whose parents didn’t attend college. And they’re three times as likely to be in student government or debate.

Screen time follows the same pattern in reverse. Teens spend, on average, close to three hours a day on social media. But neither is that time evenly distributed. Girls raised in households without a college-educated parent spend more time on more apps and are less likely to have tried cutting back than girls of parents with a degree. Boys in the same households log substantially more hours gaming.

Third, teens’ plans for what happens after high school are shifting, and shifting unevenly. Only 48% now plan to attend a four-year college, far short of being the near-default path for high school graduates. A separate the share of teens planning on any college 鈥� two- or four-year 鈥� fell from 73% in 2018 to 45% by 2024. The AEI survey reports 17% plan on a two-year or vocational program, 10% a full-time job and nearly 1 in 5 aren’t sure what’s next.

Those plans split sharply by gender and socioeconomic class, with 74% of girls with college-educated parents planning to attend a four-year school, versus 46% whose parents didn’t. 

A separate released in late August 2026, Gallup and the Walton Family Foundation’s fourth annual “Voices of Gen Z” poll, makes essentially the same point from inside the school building. Its sample of 14- to 18-year-olds is close to the age range AEI surveyed, and its findings closely track AEI’s.

No more than 20% of students feel “very prepared” for any specific path after high school, college, trade school, an apprenticeship or the job they want. Even among students planning to attend college, only 19% feel very prepared to do so.

When adults talk with students about their futures, those conversations are overwhelmingly about one path, with 52% of students saying adults have talked to them a lot about going to college. That鈥檚 compared with 17% discussing apprenticeships and 14% talking about jobs that don’t require a degree. This gap holds even among students who’ve already said they don’t plan to go to college.

Put together, the two surveys describe the same experience gap from two directions. AEI shows that fewer informal, out-of-school experiences that build real-world readiness are happening. Gallup/Walton shows that inside school, the guidance students receive is aimed almost entirely at one route, regardless of which one they’re headed toward.

Neither survey is describing a generation that’s lost interest in a good future. But both paint a picture of a generation that’s been given a narrower set of tools to reach it than it needs.

Here’s what school leaders and policymakers can do.

• Treat work-based learning as core infrastructure, not as an elective add-on. States and districts should expand youth and paid internship pipelines that give students structured work experience during the school year.
• Protect and expand school-based extracurriculars. This is especially important for teenagers whose families can’t supply the equivalent privately. The disparity in sports and club participation is a resource gap schools can partly close by keeping programs funded and accessible.
• Focus on transportation and scheduling. The problem isn鈥檛 only motivation; much of the falloff in extracurricular participation among lower-income teens is logistical. Afterschool jobs and activities require rides and flexible hours many working families can’t provide.
• Use state Workforce Pell and career-navigation funding to reach younger teens. Don鈥檛 just focus on juniors and seniors, and extend information beyond college advising. Guidance concentrated almost entirely on college leaves the majority of teens who won’t take it with less support.

None of this calls for panic, but it does call for attention. The teenagers in these surveys aren’t disengaged or unhappy in any dramatic sense. Most report being satisfied with their lives, their friendships, even their relationships with their parents. What they’re missing is practice and preparation for adulthood.

The back-to-school season is usually treated as a fresh start for academics. This survey data suggests it’s worth treating it as a fresh start for something schools have quietly let slide: the ordinary, unglamorous work of learning how to show up, and helping every teenager, not just those who are college-bound, see a clear path toward what comes next.

But unlike most 10-year-olds, a year ago this child left her family and her home, walking for days with little to eat. To protect her from the violence against women that is pervasive in rural Guatemala, and with the hope that she could have a better life, her mother sent her to the United States. Abiding by our immigration policy at the time, the young girl crossed the border and presented herself to immigration authorities to request asylum here. Yet now, due to policy changes, she is considered to be undocumented, part of a group that is being targeted politically. 

As a bilingual social worker, I have spent the past six years working closely with immigrants in southeast Tennessee. I鈥檝e heard many variations of this story. I鈥檓 not using names in this story to protect the immigrants I know. So many children and families have endured trauma in their country of origin and come here abiding by our rules; they work hard and contribute by supporting our schools, boosting local economies, and paying taxes to fund our government. 

And yet, common misconceptions persist and drive our immigration policy. Misconceptions like being undocumented means that an immigrant broke the law when they arrived, or that somehow simultaneously new arrivals are coming here to live off the government while also stealing American jobs. As someone who works daily with immigrants, I can assure you that those I know give much more to our country and to our communities than they could ever take. Their contributions are enormous 鈥� cultural, educational, economic and more.

For instance, a father immigrated from Venezuela through legal pathways years ago. When his children began attending school, he was shocked to see school staff members volunteering their free time to maintain and improve the campus. In the father鈥檚 home country, this was something parents did. He organized a parent committee to take the burden off of teachers, a contribution that has increased family engagement and improved teacher morale. And yet this father鈥� who has given so much to his community 鈥� is now considered undocumented due to policy reversals and is at risk of being targeted by immigration enforcement. 

Anti-immigrant politicians often portray immigrants as criminals who drain public resources and weaken American communities. And yet, the experiences of families I encounter tell a different story. The truth is that many undocumented immigrants have not violated the law, that immigrants contribute more to our economy than they receive in public benefits, and that they strengthen the communities they join through service, hard work and civic engagement. 

As an undocumented immigrant, the 10-year-old girl is not eligible for any public assistance: not food stamps, nor Medicaid, and she does not qualify for any type of subsidized housing. If she wants to attend college some day, to fulfill her dream of becoming a police officer and keeping others safe, she would not be eligible for any type of government grants or student loans. The only government support she receives is a free, public school education, a benefit she takes full advantage of every morning when she wakes herself up, makes her breakfast, dresses and eagerly waits for the school bus to arrive. 

However, even this benefit has been threatened. In both the 2025 and 2026 legislative sessions, Tennessee lawmakers sponsored bills that would deny undocumented students the right to a free public education. This legislation, a direct challenge to the United States Supreme Court鈥檚 1982 decision in Plyler v. Doe, could make it harder, or impossible, for many immigrant students to go to public school. Although the young girl followed our immigration policy and continues to attend her check-ins and court dates, she remains among those who many lawmakers believe are undeserving of the basic right to education. 

When attempting to deny a free public education to undocumented students, Tennessee state legislators have pointed to the high cost of educating undocumented children. While the economic burden of immigrants is often cited by those opposing immigration, a 30-year published by the Cato Institute, a libertarian think tank, found that immigrants pay more in taxes than they consume in public services. Over the course of the study, there was a net positive contribution of more than $14.5 trillion. These are tax dollars that help reduce our national deficit. 

Immigrants also contribute by sustaining our population growth amid declining birth rates. Recent Congressional revealed that the Social Security program is now projected to be depleted in 2032, a year earlier than the estimate given in 2025, due in part to declining immigration. 

Many immigrants have not broken any laws, yet remain undocumented and legally vulnerable. They are portrayed as a drain on society, yet they help sustain programs like Social Security through their tax contributions, even though many will never receive those benefits. 

As we watch our neighbors being detained and deported, we see that we are not losing the “worst of the worst,” but people who embody some of the best American ideals: hard work, selfless contribution, and a desire to build a better future for their families and communities. 

Adults design policies for her future 鈥� the classes she takes, the programs available in her neighborhood, the career training offered at her school 鈥� but very few of us have ever asked her what she actually needs.

In New Orleans, we asked. And what we heard changed the way we design support for young people. Your city should, too.

For the past seven years, the Education Research Alliance for New Orleans at Tulane University has led the 鈥� a collaborative effort with a steering committee of community organizations, government agencies and school leaders to ask students directly about their lives inside and outside of school. Our , conducted with about 2,000 sixth through 11th graders across 16 public schools last spring, added new questions about mental health. The findings are hard to sit with.

About one in three New Orleans youth is struggling with their mental health. About 41% report feeling sad or hopeless almost every day. These are not just New Orleans numbers. show similar rates of adolescent depression and anxiety. 

What is distinctive about New Orleans is that we asked why they are not getting needed help. Twenty-six percent of students said they needed counseling at some point in the past year but didn鈥檛 get it. And more than half 鈥� 55% 鈥� have avoided seeking mental health help at some point because of what others might think. Among Black youth, the numbers are starker: Nearly twice as many reported needing counseling and not receiving it compared to white youth.

Perhaps most telling is whom young people turn to when they鈥檙e struggling. The majority said they鈥檇 reach out to a friend. Fewer than one in 10 would go to a school counselor. Almost one in five said they wouldn鈥檛 reach out to anyone. New Orleans youth told us why they are struggling. And knowing changes things.

When we released earlier surveys showing that students were leaving home before dawn to catch school buses, the district changed its busing policy. When a charter management organization noticed that its students鈥� sense of belonging lagged that of similar schools, they redesigned their social-emotional learning approach. When community leaders learned that New Orleans middle schoolers had far fewer career-preparation opportunities than students nationwide, local workforce organizations began rethinking what support looks like before high school. 

None of those changes would have happened if adults had continued making decisions based on assumptions about what young people need.

The mental health findings from this year are already moving conversations. At our public release event, a high school student who helped design the survey described watching classmates struggle in silence 鈥� afraid to ask for help, unsure where to turn, not trusting that anyone would understand. She was describing data she had helped collect from students who looked like her. 

The superintendent of New Orleans Public Schools, Fateama Fulmore, said 鈥淭his report provides encouragement and a sober reminder of the responsibilities we carry as a school system and as a city for our children.鈥� Meshawn Siddiq, deputy director of the city鈥檚 Department of Health, echoed, 鈥淎s a system, I feel like in order for it all to work, every aspect of it needs to work together.鈥� That is the point of this work.

Other cities can do this. The model is not complicated, but it requires intentionality: a commitment to collaborating with local stakeholders to know what information they need, to asking young people real questions, to sharing what you hear even when it鈥檚 uncomfortable, and to letting their answers actually drive decisions.

Our students are not getting the mental health support they need. They told us that because we asked. The least we can do is listen.

Education finance could learn a thing or two.

Policymakers intent on providing high-quality schools for everyone typically face a familiar problem: Variability in property taxes allows wealthier communities to send much more money to their local schools than those in poorer communities. That extra investment translates into opportunities that lower-wealth schools simply cannot afford. Education leaders across the country have tried to fix this by filling holes with state dollars. But they are faced with a common challenge: If local spending on education in high-wealth communities keeps rising, the bar for state contributions to poorer communities moves with it.

Many professional sports leagues grappling with similar issues of inequality have found a solution in salary caps that curb wealth hoarding and reward competitiveness. In the National Basketball Association, the salary cap is a set dollar amount that all teams must stay under to avoid a financial penalty. If my beloved Atlanta Hawks spent $100,000 above the threshold, for instance, they would pay an additional $100,000 as a luxury tax. These extra dollars would then be distributed to teams that have not spent as much, helping to level the playing field.

What could this policy look like in education? Vermont already has one in place. 

Like many states, Vermont calculates and guarantees a baseline amount of funding required to educate a standard student (which is adjusted by increasing funding for disadvantaged kids). But beginning in 1997, Vermont lawmakers adopted an additional process called the excess spending adjustment. If a town votes to spend more than the baseline per-pupil funding amount, it triggers the state’s version of the NBA鈥檚 luxury tax. Wealthy towns can still raise more money for their schools, but are then required to pay higher rates created in the funding formula. In Fiscal Year 2026, exceeded the $15,926 spending threshold.

The additional tax revenue raised by property-rich towns is distributed to property-poor, rural school districts to ensure their students get a more equitable education. Three years into implementation, that legislative provisions including the excess spending adjustment had significantly reduced the relationship among property wealth, student resources and taxpayer burden.聽

What stops other states from following in Vermont鈥檚 footsteps? Policies like this do not come easily, and may require a shock to the status quo. The NBA salary cap and luxury tax were the result of difficult negotiations between the league and players. Vermont’s school funding mechanism was passed in response to a state Supreme Court ruling that the state’s previous education finance law was unconstitutional. Many wealthier residents expressed outrage at the new law 鈥� one going so far as to buy a car previously owned by one of the bill鈥檚 chief sponsors, bringing it to the state capitol and urging passers-by to to vent their frustration with the new law.

Interestingly, several of the financially affected by the excess spending threshold are not eligible to vote in Vermont: Many of its property-rich communities are ski resorts filled with second homes of out-of-state residents. This politically advantageous fact, paired with provisions that provided 229 of the state鈥檚 school districts with additional funding and only 23 districts with less, might help explain why the pushback was not strong enough to undo the law’s sweeping changes. Howard Dean, the incumbent governor, faced an opponent who tried to center the law as her chief campaign issue. Dean handily won reelection.

Vermont is not alone in structurally tackling this issue. Texas has , a state policy that requires wealthy school districts to send a portion of their local property tax revenue back to the state. In the 2024-25 school year, nearly was returned to the state under the program.

Policy advocates interested in finance equity policies should study these two states, and consider how private giving might circumvent any progress. 

In my work for , housed in the Southern Education Foundation, I regularly meet with education stakeholders across the country to imagine school funding and enrollment policies that undo the harm of intense segregation, specifically between districts. Income segregation leaves students in high-poverty schools with and few resources to meet them. Some state leaders treat the school district lines as impenetrable, for both students and dollars, leaving kids to the education provided by local property tax wealth. But every American has an affirmative right to public education, written into the state constitutions. Like the NBA power brokers of the 1980s and the Vermont lawmakers of the late 1990s, state legislators can work across lines of difference to devise a system where wealth hoarding is challenged. The ball is in their court.

Yet too many students lack the guidance they need to benefit from these growing opportunities. remain persistently severe, while career navigation is often a back-burner priority. High schools remain wedded to 鈥渃ollege for all,鈥� despite in alternative pathways. Consequently, too many young people are unaware of the careers they could pursue, the availability of jobs locally, and the skills required. A 2024 found that 66% of young adults ages 16 to 24 鈥渄o not know exactly what career they want to pursue.鈥�

This lack of guidance hinders students鈥� economic prospects and undermines employers鈥� efforts to get the workforce they need. But new approaches to career navigation could narrow this gap. 

As we found in researching a new FutureEd , innovations in curriculum design, service delivery and technology could broaden access to high-quality career guidance for students, and without massive staff hiring sprees few districts can afford.

One such emerging strategy is to integrate career navigation into curriculum. In California鈥檚 Cajon Valley Union School District, for instance, career exploration is part of the classwork, not shunted off to counselors. As part of the district鈥檚 鈥溾�� , students participate in 鈥渄eep career exposure鈥� with hands-on activities and real-life experiences. 

Students start learning about various careers as early as kindergarten, and by high school, they spend up to 40% of their time in job experiences or internships.

Enlisting teachers reduces the burden on counselors and encourages educators to develop academic content relevant to students鈥� postsecondary lives. Instead of learning about geometry in the abstract, for example, students apply geometric concepts to a construction project, making schoolwork more relevant and engaging.

Real-world career exposure especially benefits students without adequate guidance at home or in their communities. In Cajon Valley鈥檚 public schools, about 20 miles outside San Diego, nearly of students are economically disadvantaged. Research shows that low-income households and communities have less access than their wealthier counterparts to the professional networks and that enable upward mobility. 

A second emerging strategy leverages nonprofit intermediaries specializing in college and career navigation. A growing cohort of organizations 鈥� including Jobs for the Future鈥檚 and grantees of Strada Education鈥檚 initiative 鈥� are helping to expand schools鈥� counseling capacity by providing coaching, advising and access to work-based learning.

In Chicago Public Schools, for example, the nonprofit trains teachers as advisers to work with student 鈥渇ellows鈥� at 36 high-poverty high schools who receive college and career guidance for three years, including one year after graduation. Beyond job exploration, this includes social-emotional skills development, test prep, college admissions, financial aid applications and, in their final year, emergency financial aid, if needed. The University of Chicago鈥檚 Inclusive Economy Lab found that OneGoal fellows were more likely to graduate from high school than nonparticipants, and with higher GPAs. 

While administrators say Chicago public schools have made enormous progress in hiring more counselors, the average ratio still exceeds the recommended proportion of 250 to 1. Intermediaries like OneGoal compensate for that gap.

A third innovation broadening access to career navigation is the use of artificial intelligence-powered tools and platforms. Multiple platforms have recently come on the market, as ed tech entrepreneurs seek to address the demand for career navigation and credentialing. While some platforms offer little more than a chatbot, others provide useful, up-to-date information that could complement a human counselor鈥檚 guidance. 

One such promising platform is , developed by Diane Tavenner, former CEO of charter school provider Summit Public Schools. Its database features more than 800 careers that offer a living wage, half of which don鈥檛 require a four-year degree. The site also provides details about the day-to-day tasks involved in various jobs, along with data on expected pay and required credentials 鈥� information that counselors may not otherwise have readily available.

Of course, none of these new approaches is a cure for the overall crisis in postsecondary navigation. No career navigation curriculum, regardless of how well designed, can compensate for a lack of reliable data on credentials of value or on careers that can insulate young workers from the coming impacts of AI. Even with the aid of nonprofit intermediaries, many districts won’t have the resources to reach every student who could benefit from guidance. And while technological solutions can serve as powerful tools for career navigation, they cannot fully substitute for human counselors.

Nevertheless, the consequences of inadequate guidance are dire. Many high school graduates are toiling in jobs that do not lead to economic advancement, especially if they opt out of college. Less than of young employees without college degrees work in what one study called launchpad jobs, which have a clear trajectory for career growth. Meanwhile, nearly of recent college graduates are stuck in jobs that underutilize their credentials. Worse still, as many as young people ages 16 to 24 鈥� more than 1 in 10 鈥� are 鈥渄isconnected鈥� from both work and school.

Leaders of K-12 schools may prefer to focus on academics and college prep, even as they increase the availability of career and technical education and encourage early college access through strategies like dual enrollment. Yet the realities of today鈥檚 economy and the rising cost of college demand that quality postsecondary navigation become central to K-12鈥檚 mission. The stakes couldn鈥檛 be higher. 

To put these results in perspective, four years ago, the third grade ELA proficiency rate was 40% 鈥� nearly 30 points below its pre-pandemic highs. Moreover, according to a Universal Reading Screener, our kindergarten to second grade students were demonstrating mastery at levels far below prior cohorts. 

As executive director of the charter school, I recognized that the problem was not a lack of effort. When our staff observed classrooms, we saw teachers and leaders working incredibly hard. However, we also saw many ineffective practices, especially in our youngest grades: centers where students colored without purpose or attention, letter sounds introduced without sufficient practice, and Youtube videos replacing the joy of books read-aloud. It was no surprise so many third and fourth grade students struggled to read fluently, write complete sentences or access complex texts. 

Over the next four years, we changed almost everything about our K-5 literacy program. Today, our Title I school ranks in the state鈥檚 top 3% for 3rd Grade ELA achievement, outscoring every district in the state of Tennessee, including districts with far less diversity and far greater resources. While these results are extraordinary, the work we did was anything but. In fact, I am confident it can be replicated by any school or district. 

Here are six practices that moved the needle most. 

The Science of Reading is the tip of the iceberg. Starting in 2022, Tennessee began to implement training and curricula rooted in the Science of Reading, which we embraced and incorporated. Along the way, we learned that this evidence-based approach rests upon a broader foundation of cognitive and social science. This research has not reached most American teachers and school districts. Over the past two years 鈥� thanks to organizations like , , and 鈥� we explored the science of learning. 

Based on what we learned, we overhauled our approach to coaching and development. Today, every teacher at Nashville Classical is trained on basic concepts like the importance of securing and harnessing attention, the difference between working and long-term memory, the importance of background knowledge and the need to support encoding and retrieval. If you walk into a third grade classroom today, you might see students with a knowledge organizer on ancient Rome, quietly self-quizzing themselves on terms like patricians and plebeians. These simple daily practices are supported by science, but implementing them is not rocket science. Very few schools or districts have shared these practices with their teachers, which is a tragedy because anyone can learn them and every teacher deserves to know them. 

Don鈥檛 teach skills 鈥� build knowledge. features a listening comprehension strand, which we use to build background knowledge. In younger grades, we reinforce key terms, timelines and vocabulary through daily oral drills, content-focused songs and frequent opportunities to repeat ideas through 鈥渢urn and talks.鈥� As students move into tested grades, they practice reading short passages and answering multiple choice questions. But we avoid teaching test tricks like 鈥渃rossing out wrong answers鈥� or lessons on 鈥渉ow to find the main idea.鈥� Instead, our teachers ask themselves 鈥淲hat background knowledge or vocabulary might prevent students from understanding this passage?鈥� and 鈥淗ow can I build their knowledge to increase their comprehension?.鈥� By eliminating time spent trying to teach abstract 鈥渃ritical thinking,鈥� we have more time to build knowledge and vocabulary, which are the actual building blocks of comprehension.

Fluency 鈥� in all its forms 鈥� unlocks growth. Our benchmark assessment system measures fluency across grade levels, including for letter sounds, word reading, oral reading and silent reading. Our team took time to deeply understand the importance of each of these domains and unpacked what a fluent reader could think and do at each stage of their development, from kindergarten to middle school. Unfortunately, , prioritizing sound or word reading fluency at the expense of fluent reading in context. Our team worked to align vision of reading excellence across grades, which meant teachers were working toward a shared picture of what proficient young readers and successful adults readers can do down to the tiniest details of exactly how many words per minute a third grader should be able to read silently and what sorts of affixes, word roots, and phrases made passages appropriate for each grade. This level of granular detail meant teachers could identify students at risk early and clearly, intervening to provide the right support to the right students. 

Writing is thinking. We invested significant time in teaching students to write, starting in kindergarten. Our approach is rooted in with a focus on three areas. First, students write about complex topics directly connected to the knowledge and content they are reading about. So, our kindergarteners learn to speak in complete sentences while explaining what happens in nursery rhymes, our first graders learn to write sentences about Aesop鈥檚 Fables, and our second graders learn to write their first paragraphs about Greek myths. Next, our teaching focuses on sentence-level activities. By third grade, students have learned to expand, distill and express their ideas in complex and complete sentences. Finally, we teach students to revise. Teachers frequently display student work on document cameras, analyze it and then prompt students to apply concepts to their own work. 

Books belong in classrooms. Across the country, and many curricula emphasize short passages or excerpts. We believe books belong in classrooms and have selected curricula 鈥� Core Knowledge, Fishtank and Reading Reconsidered 鈥� built on this belief. Great books expose children to beautiful stories that have or will stand the test of time. When a classroom of second graders reaches the end of Charlotte鈥檚 Web, there is not a dry eye in sight and they are joining a cultural conversation that stretches across grades and generations. We鈥檝e found that the experience of reading great literature has grown our children鈥檚 attention and shaped their identity in the best way possible. There is a tradition of literacy and reading at our school, which we hope students carry with them long after they graduate. 

Play the long game. We are fortunate to have an incredible team of teachers and leaders who work with our elementary students. They deserve all of the credit for these achievements and many of them stayed at our schools through a period of significant change, where we implemented new curricula, changed schedules and raised expectations. We made many mistakes along the way, but always tried to balance the pain of changing too fast with the cost of changing too slowly. While we knew that we would not see gains happen overnight, we always believed positive habits would compound each day. For our curriculum and coaching to make a difference, we needed to stop implementation of any number of distracting, shiny objects: digital tutors, complex intervention programs, AI-everything, etc. We learned that investments in the practice and delivery of instruction may not pay off the fastest, but they take you the farthest. 

Today, I鈥檓 not just the leader of our school:  I鈥檓 a parent. And something else happened around the same time our third graders took their state test 鈥� my son, a kindergartener, learned to read. This summer, while I spent a late night hunched over a laptop to analyze results, he was upstairs reading Dog Man under his covers. 

Every kid deserves the type of teaching my son got in kindergarten and will get in the years to come. The only way to make that happen is for more schools to implement the ordinary practices that create extraordinary classrooms and outcomes. 

Youth mental health is no exception. As parents and former elected officials, we know there is no silver bullet to solve the mental health challenges young people experience today. What they鈥檙e facing is complex and shaped by a range of influences, including family dynamics, school environments, economic security, social isolation, overuse of devices and so much more.

Many Americans understand that the complexity of this challenge requires balanced solutions that meet families and children where they are. New polling from the , where we both serve on the board of directors, found that roughly three-quarters of voters and parents favor comprehensive approaches to youth mental health over narrow ones, such as technology bans.聽

Seven-in-10 voters and three-quarters of parents also believe sweeping restrictions on phones and social media can create unintended negative consequences while failing to address the underlying drivers of mental health challenges.

Take a look at how restrictions are currently unfolding in Australia. Its nationwide social media ban was intended to help young people navigate the online world more safely. Instead, early evidence suggests that these restrictions may be producing outcomes very different from those policymakers intended. 

Research conducted in April 2026 by the found that many teenagers simply shifted their online activity elsewhere. Forty-three percent reported spending more time on gaming platforms, while 39% increased their use of messaging applications that fell outside the ban’s scope. One in five said they turned more frequently to unregulated social media platforms. Rather than disappearing, online activity became harder for parents to see and guide.

Encouragingly, Americans are pointing toward a more constructive path. In our survey, parents and voters overwhelmingly support equipping young people with the skills to navigate today’s digital world instead of isolating them from it. The vast majority of voters and parents believe young people should be taught digital literacy skills, including how to use artificial intelligence safely, and that parents also need those same tools. They also strongly support media literacy education in classrooms, digital wellness resources for families and professional training that equips educators to teach responsible technology use.

Examples of this work are already emerging across the country. In Washington state鈥檚 , each school has a full-time teacher librarian who provides media literacy lessons and helps students develop the skills to assess information and navigate online spaces responsibly.聽

In Miami-Dade County, The Children鈥檚 Trust, a nonprofit dedicated to improving the lives of children and families in the county, launched a 鈥溾�� offering free, countywide workshops that give families practical support on issues affecting their children, including strategies for building healthy digital habits. 

The goal should not be to raise a generation sheltered from technology until adulthood. Technology is woven into nearly every aspect of modern life, and young people will need the skills and judgment to navigate it successfully. Our focus should be on helping them use technology wisely, critically and responsibly while addressing the broader factors that shape their mental health and wellbeing.

New research from the shows scientists agree. Noting that social media is a piece of a larger interconnected societal system, researchers warn 鈥渞estrictions may not simply remove harms; they may also shift, reshape or redistribute them.鈥� Specifically, they warn against young people moving to harder-to-monitor spaces that bring new risks of 鈥渆motional dependence, manipulation, commercial exploitation or reduced adult oversight,鈥� just as early Australian evidence suggests.聽

Solutions work best when they prepare people for the world as it is, not the world we wish existed. The United States can learn from Australia鈥檚 well-intentioned but misguided efforts and the concerns of leading scientists. The lesson is not that we should stop searching for solutions, but that we should be wary of solutions that promise more than they can deliver.聽

A more promising path lies in comprehensive approaches that bring together parents, educators, healthcare providers and communities while expanding digital literacy, mentoring, family support and access to mental health care.聽

For example, the American Academy of Pediatrics鈥� 鈥溾�� gives pediatricians and parents a practical framework for discussing screens and healthy habits in the context of a child鈥檚 development and overall wellbeing. , a member of the Coalition to Empower our Future, is also helping K-12 health educators access evidence-based, classroom-ready resources on digital wellness, online safety, self-regulation and media literacy.聽

These strategies are already being put in place and help build resilience, address underlying challenges and better equip young people to thrive in both the digital and offline worlds. If we truly want to improve outcomes for the next generation, we must focus less on policies that simply signal action and more on those that prepare young people and their parents with the support they need and are asking for.

As a result, today鈥檚 parents understandably seek to maintain a constant connection with their children. With FaceTime and Life360 at their fingertips, there is a real temptation to hover 鈥� even after college drop-off. But despite the best of intentions, this level of engagement can have detrimental effects on a new freshman鈥檚 adjustment to college and to navigating the world as an adult.

In my work in student affairs, I have watched thousands of young people make the leap from nervous first-years to confident graduates. I serve as a point of contact for families as well, which has taught me a lot about which parent behaviors set students up for success and which might unwittingly hold them back. While it can be challenging for parents to learn to let go, empowering children to discover their own community and thrive on their own will pay dividends down the line. 

Here are some steps to take for helping your child thrive in college and beyond: 

Start early. Preparing children to live independently goes much more smoothly if they have gradually taken on more responsibility before college. Too often, I鈥檝e encountered first-years who have never cooked a meal or done their own laundry. Practicing independent-living skills while still at home ensures that kids arrive at school ready to manage their own affairs. Let them book their own doctor鈥檚 appointments and complete school forms 鈥� you can help them problem-solve, if needed. My 8th- and 11th-graders have managed their morning routines since they were old enough to stay home alone, as my husband and I left for work before they left for school. They got themselves ready: packing lunch, walking the dog and getting themselves off to class. If you鈥檝e watched your children figure out how to perform these kinds of tasks in the past, you can drop them off on campus confident that they鈥檒l be able to do them again. 

Be a good listener. By the time a child is in college, the parent鈥檚 role shifts to the back seat.聽 The child becomes the driver, and the parent is there to help them make decisions and find solutions to life鈥檚 problems. When children share a challenge or struggle, let them find their own answers by asking them questions to help them consider options and alternatives, without offering a solution of your own. The inclination to step in is understandable, given today’s academic pressures, social challenges and competitive job market. But young adults have always had to navigate these minefields. Making mistakes early, in a supportive environment like college, helps young adults find their own motivations. With emotional support instead of direction, students can make mistakes and forge a path forward, honing the critical life skill of resilience.聽聽

Your role is changing, not ending. Maybe your child is struggling with a difficult courseload or did poorly on an exam. Some parents wonder if they should contact a professor directly. The answer is no. Parents should never reach out to faculty on behalf of their child. Instead, they can provide support; consider helping your child practice a conversation with the professor. Encourage your child to seek extra help if needed, to take advantage of available academic resources and, of course, to talk to professors to manage their workload and opportunities for extra credit. Then let your student handle it.

Give them space. There鈥檚 a reason parents鈥� weekends aren鈥檛 scheduled until several weeks into the semester. The first few weeks after orientation provide the biggest social opportunities of the year, as new students explore the campus and local community together and make connections with their peers. Offering to visit or 鈥� worse 鈥� bringing students home during those first critical weeks will disrupt this important chance for bonding with classmates and creating a support network. Some homesickness is to be expected. The best way for students to stop feeling homesick is to get engaged at school 鈥� with clubs, sports and other activities. 

Trust the process. College administrators and faculty want nothing more than to see graduates succeed. We don鈥檛 and can鈥檛 offer special treatment the way a parent might, but it is important for families to realize that our only agenda is to see young people thrive. Even in challenging moments, when students are being held accountable or told “no,” the overarching strategy is to set them up for success. My college, Stevens Institute of Technology, has a required First-Year Experience course to help new students navigate the transition to campus life. They are taught to manage their time, start planning for a career and to overcome traditional obstacles of early adulthood. The goal is to equip them with the skills they need to live a fulfilling life 鈥� just as a parent does.聽

Most missteps on the path to adulthood aren鈥檛 emergencies. Parents do the hard work of helping their children make it to college, where they can begin the work of preparing for adult life. The relationship they build doesn鈥檛 disappear at the campus gates; it evolves. Allowing for some emotional and physical distance between you and your college-aged child may seem harsh, but it can be the most thoughtful and supportive approach to parenting a young adult.聽聽聽

The intention is good. But it鈥檚 not good enough.

A strong state policy can create urgency, define expectations and keep attention on what matters. But policies typically don鈥檛 recommend new schedules, establish guidelines for community partnerships, incentivize effective teacher training or help organize limited resources to achieve results.

That work happens in districts and in schools. And if we ignore that work, even the strongest policy will produce uneven results.

from Louisiana shows that states can improve outcomes at scale when they provide clear direction, aligned incentives and sustained attention over time. In other words, states can鈥檛 simply pass better rules and wait for results. States must also provide districts with the nuts and bolts that translate policy into day-to-day practice.

If districts would just 鈥渄o the thing,鈥� so the logic goes, results would follow. My decades of experience helping districts implement ambitious change suggest a different reality: District leaders want more meaningful pathways to college and career. But they lack a workable blueprint to make these changes feasible.

Consider literacy. A state can adopt strong standards aligned with the science of reading, a high-quality curriculum and early screening. But a district still has hard questions to answer: Where will uninterrupted literacy time fit in the day? How will schools know which students need extra help, and when will they get it? Who provides intervention and how will reading specialists, tutors and classroom teachers work together instead of operating in isolation? What professional learning is essential? And 鈥� perhaps most challenging 鈥� what current work has to stop so that teachers aren鈥檛 buried under one more add-on initiative?

Those questions may sound mundane. But they are the difference between a reading policy that changes lives and one that produces new paperwork.

The same challenge is even more visible in high school, where states are increasingly promoting stronger college and career pathways. They鈥檙e asking for industry credentials, work-based learning and dual enrollment. These ideas have real promise. But they鈥檙e as complicated as literacy programs 鈥� maybe even more complicated 鈥� to design well.

In one district my nonprofit organization worked with, scheduling logistics meant that some students couldn鈥檛 participate in a pathway without sacrificing graduation requirements. In another district, the schools were simply too small and too remote to offer the range of pathways their students wanted. In another, it turned out that students鈥� lack of proficiency in reading, writing and math was preventing them from succeeding in career pathways. And in many districts, students must choose between a focus on academics and technical learning.

If states want these reforms to reach more students, especially students who have historically been furthest from opportunity, they need to treat implementation as a design challenge, not a compliance exercise. They must go beyond setting direction to enabling transformation.

That means doing a few things differently.

• State guidance should include frameworks that explicitly address the district-level choices that matter the most. For literacy, there are tough decisions around scheduling, staffing, curriculum, teacher training and progress monitoring. For career pathways, district leaders have to consider course sequences, scheduling, partnerships, transportation, staffing, labor market alignment and an equal focus on strengthening foundational skills.

• States should collect and share work being done in districts that are making progress. Leaders need to see the schedules, staffing models, course sequences, funding strategies and partnership agreements that prove it鈥檚 possible and that can be adapted to each leader鈥檚 unique context.

• States should invest real dollars to support districts in redesigning existing systems 鈥� rather than layering a new initiative on top of old structures. They should provide technical assistance, tools or incentives that reward coherence rather than mere adoption.

• States and districts need a clearer division of labor. States should focus on coherence and establishing guardrails. Districts should take the lead on making it work for their students, their teachers, and their local context.

Researchers have made progress in identifying what works. They know that when high school connects academic learning to life after graduation. They know that a focus on reading, writing and math proficiency in ninth grade . They know that simple credentialing requirements . And we know there鈥檚 still more to learn.

But the next challenge is not just discovering what works. It鈥檚 making what works feasible at scale.

If states and districts want career-pathway investments to change students鈥� lives, they have to pay as much attention to the machinery of implementation as they do to the promise of policy. That machinery may not make for a flashy press conference. But that鈥檚 where reform either becomes real for students鈥攐r doesn鈥檛.

It鈥檚 time to start talking about what we鈥檙e prepared to give them instead, especially as courts begin holding tech companies accountable. 

With news of Meta鈥檚 $17.1 billion settlement with 47 states and Washington, D.C., communities are beginning to see the scale of initial payouts. They now have the opportunity to move the conversation from accountability to repairs. 

This and other lawsuits moving through the legal system 鈥� brought by state attorneys general, school districts and families 鈥� focus on how much the social media company executives knew, whether they created a public nuisance and whether the companies should be held liable for rising rates of anxiety, depression and other mental health challenges among young people. 

The settlement agreement explicitly mentions funding for solutions, from youth programs to sports and dance, but not at the scale or scope of the harm that social media platforms have done. The work moving forward is to pay close attention to where the money actually goes, and .

So where should the funds go?

That question deserves as much public attention as the lawsuits themselves, because this isn鈥檛 simply about accountability. It鈥檚 about what comes next, and what to learn from past missteps.

The answer is simple: Fund real life.

When our nonprofit organization has done focus groups with young people, they鈥檝e told us exactly what they hope those investments will look like. More places to gather with friends and caring adults to talk to. More mentors, leadership opportunities and access to youth programs. In fact, an of more than 87,000 Crisis Text Line conversations found that, during moments of crisis, young people consistently pointed to sources of relief that had little to do with technology: relationships, sports, music, books, movement, nature, counseling and places where they felt connected.

In short, they want more real life experiences and opportunities. So, if we鈥檙e serious about helping young people thrive, then we have to do more than reduce screen time.

As social media companies are required to pay for the harm their platforms have caused to young people, communities can鈥檛 let those dollars disappear into state budgets or unrelated priorities. There are critical decisions to make now.

History tells us that large-scale lawsuit payouts can either create lasting change or get lost in the political and economic shuffle. Following tobacco settlements, many states diverted funds away from prevention and public health. More recently, opioid settlements have prompted ongoing debates over whether resources are reaching the communities most affected.

State attorneys general, the courts and state legislative bodies have an opportunity to write a different story and ensure these dollars do more than compensate for harm, but infuse new support and opportunities 鈥� offline 鈥� that young people are craving and calling for.

As we speak, the courts and Congress are deciding how to regulate social media: limiting harm, focusing on less screen time, better age verification, more parental controls and safer platform design. 

While those measures are crucial, they only answer one question: How does society reduce exposure to what hurts young people?

They leave an equally important question unanswered: What should young people experience instead? The answer is: funding real life.

That means investing in the afterschool programs where students discover new passions and community organizations where they find trusted adults. It means supporting the recreation centers where friendships are built and the arts programs where confidence grows. Opening doors to libraries that spark curiosity and summer learning programs that keep kids engaged. Helping youth explore employment and apprenticeship opportunities that give them purpose. 

It also means addressing limiting factors, from transportation to funding, that reduce access to parks, sports leagues, community organizations, employment and mentoring programs that create connections long before a social media feed ever can. And it means doing the important work of creating forums for safe digital engagement, as well as mental health services and support.

This isn鈥檛 wishful thinking. It is supported by decades of research showing that these experiences strengthen mental health, increase belonging, build resilience and help young people develop the confidence and relationships that protect them long after they put down their phones. Yet, these are often the investments communities struggle to sustain. With an estimated annual revenue of $422 billion across Meta, YouTube, TikTok and Snap, Inc., the irony couldn鈥檛 be more clear.

While leaders debate the effects of digital platforms on childhood, our communities continue to underinvest in the very experiences that bolster youth health and wellbeing.

That鈥檚 why the launched , bringing together a growing coalition of leading youth development, mental health and community organizations around a shared vision. We believe that if social media companies are required to compensate communities for the harms associated with their products, those resources should strengthen the very experiences that help young people flourish offline.

Lawsuits will determine whether social media companies bear legal responsibility for the harms alleged against them. State leaders will determine something equally important: whether these settlements become another missed opportunity 鈥� or a once-in-a-generation investment in childhood itself.

With the state of Michigan enacting a that restricts students from using their phones during instructional time, lawmakers have left it up to school districts to create their own policies on how to enforce this ban.

A team of University of Michigan researchers parsed through and compiled nearly 800 schools across the state, some of them already in place, to examine the different approaches they are taking to enforce this statewide ban. While many schools have enacted their own approaches to limiting cellphone use in recent years, the data reveals that schools believe there are a number of different ways to keep students off their phones after the bell rings.

In fact, U-M鈥檚 research collected on policies enacted as of the 2025-26 school year reveal an even 50-50 split on when these bans are put in place. Half of the state鈥檚 schools have implemented 鈥渂ell-to-bell鈥� restrictions that don鈥檛 allow students to use their phones at any point during the day, while the other half have 鈥渟chedule-based鈥� restrictions that allow them to use their phones at designated times, including during lunch and between class periods.

U-M Education Policy Professor Brian Jacob said the research is intended to provide guidance on the trade-offs of different approaches as the state law goes into place this fall.

鈥淲e want to make sure state leaders and district leaders were cognizant of this as they were imposing mandates on their individual schools because I have a feeling restricting cellphone use in schools is going to be a nuanced, challenging, multi-year process,鈥� Jacob said. 鈥淭his is one big genie that is out of the bottle, and figuring out the best way to get it back in the bottle and stay in the bottle, I think, is going to take a little practice and iteration on the part of schools.鈥�

Two years ago, Novi Community School District took a nuanced approach to putting its cellphone restrictions in place.聽

In grades K-4, students aren鈥檛 allowed to have them in the building. In fifth through eighth grades, students can bring their phones to school, but they are locked up in at the beginning of the day and kept there until school lets out.  Phones are placed in pouches by staff and sealed shut, with a designated magnetic device used to unlock them when appropriate. While high school students also are issued their own pouches, the phones are locked up during instructional time, with students being able to unlock and access them between classes and during lunch.

Superintendent Ben Mainka said the different approaches are intended to give high school students more autonomy that mirrors how they might experience using a cellphone in the workplace.

鈥淎s students go through school, they’re learning and they’re maturing, and so we know that as they grow and mature, we want to be able to open up more freedom and responsibilities,鈥� he said. 鈥淭he other part is, as they get to high school, we’re really helping them understand what it is like in a workplace, and we know that they’re going to have their phones on them, but they also need to know how to manage that. So, basically, giving them the autonomy to know that there are certain times that the phone needs to be off limits and put away, and then there are times when you can check it.鈥�

U-M鈥檚 research found that just 2% of schools in the state have taken this approach. The most common type of enforcement of cellphone restriction is described as 鈥渘o-show,鈥� with 62% of schools requiring students to keep their phones in their backpacks or pockets.聽

Another 17% of schools allow students to bring cellphones to school, but keep them in their lockers throughout the day, while 9% of schools collect students鈥� phones and keep them in a designated place. Some schools (8%) have taken the approach of keeping cellphones out of schools completely, while another 3% have a centralized collection of phones with an administrator when they enter the building.

The research also showed that the type of school and its location impacted the type of policy the school enacted, with charter (79%) and urban schools (76%) substantially more likely to require bell-to-bell policies than suburban (49%) and rural (41%). 

Jacob said charters and urban schools might be more attracted to having complete control over when students can have access to their phones with options like centralized collection or lockable pouches, he said, because they might believe phones are more 鈥減roblematic鈥� in schools than suburban or rural schools do.

鈥淣ow, whether they actually are, I think many suburban schools might be fooling themselves by thinking, 鈥極h, the phones aren’t really much of a problem,鈥欌�� Jacob said. 鈥淏ut I think there’s a perception in urban school districts where there might be more chaos and more distraction that there’s something attractive about these more restrictive policies.鈥�

While Pellston Public Schools in Northern Michigan only enrolls around 500 students, the district has taken a more restrictive approach to enforcing its cellphone policy, which was enacted at the suggestion of middle and high school Principal Chris Schlappi in 2024.

Superintendent Stephen Seelye had initial concerns that Schlappi鈥檚 suggestion to have students lock their cellphones in Yondr pouches would be met with opposition from parents who were concerned about being able to contact their children in the event of an emergency.聽

With several other avenues for students to contact their parents, Seelye said it made sense for the school to spend $15,000 to purchase the pouches for students in grades 6 to 12, with a complete cellphone ban in place at the elementary level.

Students aren鈥檛 able to access their cellphones throughout the day after locking them in their pouches and leaving them with their home room teacher; Seelye said enforcement of the policy has gone better than he ever could have expected.

鈥淚 really think it’s one of the best decisions, if not the best decision I’ve made in education,鈥� Seelye said.

Rather than relying on teachers to keep an eye on whether students are taking phones out of their backpacks or pockets as 鈥渘o show鈥� policies do, locking cellphones into pouches has greatly reduced the burden on teachers to enforce the ban, he said, with the occasional 鈥渂ad actors鈥� quickly being discovered.

鈥淭eachers have got a lot of things to juggle and they’ve been given their time back,鈥� he said. 鈥淭hey no longer have to worry about if (a) kid has their cellphone and is seeking it. I would say I probably have 5% of my kids on a daily basis that are trying to hide their cellphones, and we catch most of them.

鈥淏efore, when every kid had a cellphone and there were seven of them out in class and one might buzz or beep, it was hard for my teachers to figure out where that came from, but now it’s not hard. Now everybody else has their phone locked up, and you know they can pinpoint who it was.鈥�

U-M鈥檚 research lays out three considerations for districts still working through enacting policies: Phone policies present difficult trade-offs for educators and policymakers; establishing and communicating a clear cellphone policy likely enhances adherence; and unintended consequences may occur in classrooms and broader school settings.

While no-show policies remain popular among Michigan schools, Jacob said teachers told him that the most effective approaches take them out of the role of being the 鈥渂ad guy.鈥�

鈥淚 think there’s a lot of pressure among teachers in that regard,鈥� he said. 鈥淭eachers that I’ve talked to really do like school-wide policies where some of the burden of enforcement is taken off of their shoulders.鈥�

The physical school environment is usually treated as an operational concern: square footage, maintenance, compliance, safety and cost. Those matters are real. But they are incomplete.

A school building is also an instructional system.

In my rural Midwestern school district, we drew on research in learning environments and early literacy development to create a new 108,000-square-foot elementary school that serves 900 pupils across 932 square miles.

We used the Framework, which connects physical design to instructional capacity, student experience, measurable outcomes, and equity impact.

Designed by CMBA Architects, our new campus serves many students facing poverty, geographic isolation and limited preschool access that has affected their readiness for school. 

Since opening our new campus in 2024, we have seen mixed results, but the strongest gains appeared among students most likely to benefit, especially those from low-socioeconomic households and groups affected by access gaps.

Architecture alone doesn鈥檛 drive these achievement gains. Instead, the findings suggest a stronger and more defensible claim: Intentional school design can improve the daily conditions that shape instruction, intervention, belonging, regulation, enrichment and student opportunity.

Students enter school with unequal early-learning access. In rural communities with limited or distant preschool options, many begin kindergarten without the vocabulary, routines, stamina, executive-function practice, and early-literacy exposure some peers already have. 

For low-income students, these gaps can be deeper. Poverty does not define potential, but it can limit enrichment, health care, transportation, routines, academic language, and early childhood access.

Schools designed for access, flexibility, belonging, movement, regulation and intervention can reduce barriers, save time, and make the building part of the learning infrastructure.

In our former four-story building, kindergarten transitions to recess, special events, services, and other activities required going up and down stairs multiple times a day. The daily minutes lost were small but cumulative. After the move, kindergarten teachers reported gaining two or more weeks of instructional time because students no longer navigated multiple stairways each day. 

This illustrates design as an instructional variable: Removing a physical barrier increased instructional time without changing curriculum or assessment. For early literacy, recovered minutes matter because repetition, oral language, small-group support, and predictable routines create opportunity.

Classrooms and shared spaces included mobile furniture, flexible seating, and layouts that let students sit, stand, move, collaborate, and reconfigure spaces with little disruption. The goal was not novelty, but access.

Because students learn differently across tasks and developmental stages, adaptable rooms allow instruction to shift quickly 鈥� from direct teaching to small groups, collaboration, independent practice or intervention 鈥� without the space becoming a barrier.

Flexible seating and movement-friendly spaces align with research linking classroom movement to attention and engagement. For students who need support with regulation, stamina, or focus, appropriate movement is not a luxury; it is part of access.

The facility includes murals that incorporate South Dakota history, geography, wildlife, agriculture, and phrases in the Dakota language. In a district serving a significant Native American student population, this decision matters.

Cultural representation in the physical environment signals that students are not merely accommodated, they are recognized.

When students see local language, landscapes, and identity embedded into the school, the building communicates belonging before a single lesson begins.

Murals and visual learning elements also expand background knowledge. They turn hallways into instructional spaces. A student walking past a mural of the Missouri River, the Black Hills, bison, prairie animals, crops, or Dakota vocabulary is repeatedly exposed to content, language, and place.

In that sense, the school becomes an environmental text. Students read the building long before they read the day鈥檚 lesson.

The results from the first two years in the new building include improved benchmark rates on the K鈥�2 Dynamic Indicators of Basic Early Literacy Skills or DIBELS, a smaller gap for low-income students and fewer of them scoring Well Below Benchmark. The share At or Above Benchmark rose from 61.8% before the new facility to 67.9%. Scores for other students remained relatively stable, increasing from 70.7% to 71.2%.

Grades 3鈥�5 Smarter Balanced results showed similar equity-aligned gains, particularly for students eligible for free and reduced price meals and American Indian/Alaskan Native students in English language arts.

In other words, the largest movement occurred among students from low-socioeconomic households.

The district鈥檚 K-2 DIBELS data adds an important early-literacy lens to the Opportunity-by-Design Framework, since it provides multiple checkpoints within the year. The Smarter Balanced Assessment measures achievement at the end of the school year.

The data alone does not prove that a building, by itself, caused the achievement to rise. It does not show that every grade, every subject and every student group improved. The data does not erase the importance of the curriculum, teachers, intervention systems, leadership, attendance, family engagement, or student mobility. But it does suggest that intentional school design can positively impact students and educators and, in turn, produce better educational outcomes.

Yet one of the most consequential variables receives far less attention: what parents expect from their children and what happens when those expectations weaken.

The issue is not whether parents attend every school function or sit beside their children for every homework assignment. The research suggests that a more powerful form of involvement is often less visible: communicating that school matters, establishing expectations for effort and achievement, monitoring whether those expectations are being met and connecting present academic work to future goals.

That distinction matters because schools do not operate apart from families. When parents consistently reinforce academic and behavioral standards, schools have an ally in maintaining them. When families increasingly expect schools to accommodate failure rather than correct it, the pressure can gradually shift from helping students meet a standard to changing the standard students are required to meet.

Research on parental involvement is remarkably consistent on this point. A found that parental aspirations and expectations showed the strongest relationship with student achievement among the forms of involvement they examined. A of middle-school students similarly found that 鈥渁cademic socialization鈥� 鈥� communicating expectations, discussing goals, and linking schoolwork to future plans 鈥� was especially strongly associated with achievement, while direct homework help was not consistently beneficial. 

A 2024 has likewise found positive relationships between parental involvement, expectations, and academic outcomes across racial, socioeconomic and other demographic groups.

The conclusion should not be overstated. Parental expectations do not erase poverty, disability, family instability or differences in school quality. But the research does show that expectations remain consequential across those differences. Risk is not destiny, and disadvantage does not make standards irrelevant.

A single parent working long hours may have fewer opportunities to volunteer at school than an affluent parent with a flexible schedule. Yet  both parents can still communicate that homework must be completed, that a poor grade requires a response, that effort is expected, that teachers deserve respect and that education is connected to the child鈥檚 future. Those messages cost little financially, but they create a powerful psychological framework for how a child understands school.

Children learn what adults consider normal. They learn whether a C is a signal to improve or something simply accepted. They learn whether unfinished work has consequences. They learn whether a teacher鈥檚 criticism should first provoke self-examination or an angry call from a parent. 

A family that responds to a poor grade by asking, 鈥淲hat went wrong, and how are we going to fix it?鈥� communicates something fundamentally different from one whose first response is, 鈥淲hat did the teacher do wrong?鈥� One response reinforces accountability; the other can unintentionally teach that standards are negotiable whenever they create discomfort.

The consequences do not remain inside the home. They eventually shape schools. Teachers operate in an environment influenced by families as well as administrators. When failing a student routinely produces complaints, demands for extra credit, repeated retesting, deadline extensions, or pressure to change grades, the cost of enforcing a standard rises. When discipline is treated primarily as evidence that the school mishandled the child rather than as a response to the child鈥檚 conduct, behavioral expectations become harder to sustain.

None of these practices is inherently wrong. Retesting can be educationally useful. Extensions may be appropriate. Accommodations are essential for some students. The problem begins when individualized supports become the default response to ordinary failure. Institutions respond to incentives. 

Teachers learn that failing grades create conflict. Administrators learn that retention and low graduation rates attract scrutiny. Students learn that deadlines and standards are flexible. Over time, the system can become more concerned with preventing the appearance of failure than with correcting the learning deficit that produced it.

The national achievement data make this harder to ignore. In 2024, 45% of American 12th graders performed below NAEP Basic in mathematics and 32% fell below Basic in reading 鈥� sobering evidence that large numbers of students are reaching the end of high school without demonstrating even basic levels of academic mastery.

Those results cannot be attributed to parental involvement alone, but they should sharpen the discussion about expectations. One of the most damaging mistakes in education is confusing an explanation for poor performance with a justification for lower standards. Poverty creates real obstacles. Students with disabilities need appropriate accommodations. Children dealing with family instability may require flexibility and support. But support and standards are not opposites.

The distinction is simple. Compassion says: 鈥淵ou are struggling, so we are going to give you more help.鈥� Lowered expectations say: 鈥淵ou are struggling, so we are going to require less.鈥� The first approach treats the student as capable of growth. The second can quietly turn a temporary disadvantage into a permanent ceiling.

Parents therefore have a role that schools cannot replace. They need not become teachers or supervise every assignment. Their more important responsibility is cultural: to establish what is expected, to reinforce effort, to support reasonable academic and behavioral standards and to resist the impulse to remove every consequence when a child falls short.

Parents should also demand honesty from schools. If grades indicate success while objective measures show serious weakness, parents should ask why. If a student is being promoted without prerequisite skills, parents should insist on remediation. Accountability should run in both directions.

America will continue debating curriculum, funding, testing, technology, school choice and federal policy. Those debates matter. But decades of research on parental involvement point toward a more basic truth: Children tend to do better when the adults raising them communicate that education matters and expect them to meet a meaningful standard.

Schools cannot indefinitely substitute for standards that are no longer reinforced at home. Restoring academic achievement therefore requires more than asking what schools should do differently. It also requires asking what parents should once again expect.