We were glad to function in that capacity for Virginia as we’ve done for many other states over the years. But it’s also been implied by some that we tried to inject the draft standards with conservative bias, even to “whitewash” history, and that is completely false.
Reviewing academic standards is the work for which our organization, the Thomas B. Fordham Institute, may be best known. In fact, in the first report we published, back in 1997, Sandra Stotsky addressed the quality of states’ English and language arts standards. And we’ve been periodically evaluating state standards in key subjects ever since—including but not limited to math, science, geography, and world history.
Because of our experience in this area, state departments of education and other state officials routinely reach out to us (and the content experts on whose know-how we rely) for input when their standards are up for review. After all, standards have to be periodically updated to reflect new developments in their respective fields—a process that typically occurs every five to ten years.
When its staff contacted us about proposed revisions to state-mandated history and social science standards in July 2022, the Virginia Department of Education had already embarked on this challenging but essential process.
In the ensuing months, multiple news reports have listed us among the organizations that provided feedback on early drafts of the standards. That is true, and we were glad to function in that capacity for Virginia as we’ve done for many other states over the years. But it’s also been implied by some that we tried to inject the draft standards with some form of conservative bias, even to “whitewash” history, and that is completely false.
My purpose here is to clarify our role and key recommendations, and to highlight which suggestions were ultimately integrated into the latest draft (mindful that such changes could have been suggested by multiple experts). Note that I’m comparing our initial feedback against the current (January 2023) draft on which Virginia has scheduled public comment and public hearings in the weeks to come.
Our role
In July 2022, Department staff let us know that they had read our report on The State of State Standards for Civics and U.S. History in 2021, in which our bipartisan group of civics and history experts assigned Virginia’s 2015 standards two B-plus grades (one for each subject). Although Virginia was one of just sixteen states that had received “honors” grades from our reviewers, Department staff wanted to hear more about how they could strengthen student expectations moving forward. So on August 1, my colleague David Griffith and I participated in a phone call with several staff members, during which they asked us for any additional feedback from our content experts not reflected in the published review. We didn’t recall any. They also shared some of the organizational challenges they faced as they contemplated combining the standards and curriculum frameworks. (The latter document is intended to “enrich and clarify the concepts” in the standards through suggested resources and student activities.) The decision to combine the two documents has since been reversed and they are now separate again, as in prior standards adoptions.
Staff were charged with integrating feedback from external experts, so we volunteered to give them input on the latest draft, which at that time was dated July 2022.[i] Subsequently, we asked two of the content experts who had co-authored our 2021 report to evaluate the proposed revisions.
We had another call with the Department’s staff on August 22, most of which again pertained to the organization and internal coherence of the (now separated) curriculum frameworks. Finally, on August 25, we compiled our reviewers’ feedback and sent it to the Department.
Contrary to reports that we submitted additional commentary on the “November” draft, that August 25 email was our last communication with the Department.
Our recommendations
What Fordham sent to the Department included general comments, while also detailing specific strengths and concerns for each early elementary grade (K–3) and each of the six higher-level courses with civics and/or U.S. history content (Virginia Studies, U.S. History to 1865, U.S. History 1865 to Present, Civics and Economics, Virginia and U.S. History, Virginia and U.S. Government).
Altogether, we sent approximately fourteen pages of comments. Because some of the reviewers’ suggestions were admittedly “nitpicky,” David and I bolded the suggestions that we felt were most important.
For example, a key weakness—which had been cited in our 2021 review of Virginia’s existing standards—was the failure to clarify the suggested sequence for U.S. history and civics content, which led our reviewers to complain that there was “no indication of the target age for the courses.” This problem remained in the July 2022 draft, hence our bolded recommendation to “Clearly articulate a suggested content sequence(s) for grades 4–12, as many other ‘local control’ states have done.” The latest January draft now addresses this concern, with pages 11–12 laying out a sensible sequence and progression to guide educators.
On a more specific note, our reviewers observed that the fourth grade Virginia Studies course made no mention of the Bill of Rights (nor had the existing standards), despite Virginia’s critical place in its history. That reference has now been added. We also recommended more coverage of the rule of law and the role of the courts, judges, and juries, all of which now appear in grade seven.
In the sixth-grade course, U.S. History 1865 to Present, reviewers noted the omission of the two Red Scare periods, in which heightened fears of communist influence led to the violation of Americans’ rights (both also missing in the 2015 standards). The post-World-War I Red Scare is now referenced, but the post-World War II Red Scare—also known as McCarthyism—is not. Similarly, our comments recommended reference to “growing social tensions over religious traditionalism in the 1920’s, as manifested in the Scopes trial,” in which the plaintiffs challenged a Tennessee law forbidding the teaching of evolution. That suggestion went unheeded.
In the grade seven Civics and Economics course, we and our reviewers favored more explicit reference to the Supremacy Clause and recommended that scattered content on the three branches of government “be reordered so all three branches of the federal government are bundled together”—both of which were also issues in the 2015 standards and have now been addressed.
Reviewers identified a significant omission in the eleventh grade Virginia and U.S. History course (also omitted in 2015). In their words: “The Dred Scott decision is not noted by name in any of the U.S. history course standards. Its enormous impact should at the least be mentioned here in what is (presumably) the high school course.” Reference to this Supreme Court case—which held that the Constitution did not extend American citizenship to individuals of Black African descent—has now been added to that course in a standard covering the development and abolition of slavery.
Our content experts also wrote that it was “surprising not to see the Electoral College or the primary system in the otherwise comprehensive Virginia and U.S. Government course” (also missing in 2015). Today’s draft now includes the requirement that students explain “the role of the Electoral College and the impact of reapportionment and redistricting on elections and governance.”
Reviewers thought, too, that parts of the twelfth grade course were “case law–poor” and recommended the addition of particular Supreme Court cases, including Obergefell v. Hodges 2015 (which required states to license and recognize same-sex marriage) and Reed v. Reed 1971 (which addressed discrimination based on gender). The former case is now included in an overarching standard addressing the “development of and changes in domestic policies” due to acts of Congress and Supreme Court decisions, including Brown v. Board of Education, Obergefell v. Hodges, Gideon v. Wainwright, Miranda v. Arizona, as well as Roe v. Wade and Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization (the 2015 standards included only Brown v. Board of Education).
I could go on, but here’s the point: In our 2021 review of Virginia’s 2015 standards, we encouraged state officials to “Preserve the considerable strengths of the current standards in the forthcoming review process” and “Plug the specific gaps in coverage.” Virginia now appears to have done that (despite editorials to the contrary).
Yes, they made missteps and errors along the way. But make no mistake: This latest draft does not suffer from political bias. In fact, the Guiding Principles rightly allude to our nation’s complex history: “The events of our history demonstrate that people have incredible ability to inspire, innovate and improve lives, and this human story also shows that evil exists with the capability of destroying civilizations, communities, and individual lives.”
Nor do we see evidence of “whitewashing.” Virginia, for instance, is now one of only a few states that teaches fourth graders that the institution of slavery was the cause of the Civil War—not one of multiple causes (as was suggested in the 2015 standards). If I had my druthers, they would drop this sentence from the Implementation section of the Principles: “Teachers should engage students in age-appropriate ways that do not suggest students are responsible for historical wrongs based on immutable characteristics, such as race or ethnicity.” Although I certainly agree, in my opinion it unnecessarily douses gas on a partisan fire. But if that is as close as they get to politicization, so be it.
Writing thirteen school-years worth of accurate, balanced, rigorous, and age-appropriate academic standards that are aligned across grade levels isn’t for the faint of heart—especially in today’s outrage-fueled news cycle—which is why most states publish exceptionally vague civics and history standards that omit most content and paper over the sticky issues. That may keep them out of hot water, but it ill-serves their teachers and students.
Take Vermont’s requirement that fifth graders explain “how policies are developed to address public policy problems” or South Dakota’s requirement that eighth graders learn “how government decisions impact people, places and history.” No one could accuse the writers of these standards of bias, much less of omitting essential content: There is none to begin with.
To its credit, the Old Dominion took the road less traveled in 2015 and is doing so again in 2023. And when it comes to preparing the next generation of Virginians for thoughtful and informed citizenship, that will make all the difference.
[i] I suspect that the July 2022 draft was not substantively different from the “coupled” August draft—both of which combined the standards and curriculum frameworks prior to their subsequent “decoupling.” So it’s possible that our written comments on the July draft could just as easily have applied to the August draft, although we can’t say for certain.
Last week, as we celebrated the life of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., we recalled his civil rights activism as an admirable example of creating what John Lewis called “good trouble.” Dr. King is an American icon precisely because he possessed the wisdom and courage to hold America up to her own high standards: that all men are created equal and must be treated equally before the law. Educators will teach their students about the activism of Dr. King, in the hope that students will be inspired to continue to work for the cause of justice. This practice is salutary. But we do not pause often enough to consider Dr. King’s own education and its connection to his activism.
We should not lose sight of the fact that Dr. King was liberally educated, and early in his studies—he entered Morehouse College as a freshman at the age of fifteen—he was convinced that a true education involved moral formation and a concern for the cultivation of interior freedom. It was at Morehouse that he was first introduced to the writings of Thoreau, whose essay “On Civil Disobedience” would become so influential in King’s own self-conception as an activist. It was also at Morehouse that King wrote a short piece in the school newspaper titled, “The Purpose of Education.” In that fiery article, he argued that education’s concern with intellectual virtue and critical thinking must be married to concern for moral virtue. “Intelligence plus character—that is the true goal of education,” he wrote. Even as a young man, King believed that knowledge and virtue must not he held apart. After all, he argues, “the most dangerous criminal may be the man gifted with reason, but with no morals.”
After Morehouse, King matriculated at Crozer Theological Seminary in Chester, Pennsylvania, where he earned his bachelor of divinity in systematic theology through study of the classics of philosophy and the Christian tradition. At Crozer, he underwent serious study of the Western philosophical tradition, from Plato up to Hegel and Thoreau, which he writes about movingly in his autobiography. In his spare time, King was reading Marx solely to understand the appeal of communism. Although convinced that communism was “basically evil,” he wrote that it challenged him to see some problems in need of reform within the capitalist system, and how the profit motive could be an engine of inequality. It was also at Crozer that he was introduced to the writings of Mahatma Gandhi, whose philosophy of nonviolent resistance became central to King’s own political activism.
In his autobiography, he describes his “intellectual quest” for “a method” to help him to think about how to eliminate social evils like racism and poverty. It was in Gandhi that he found the method he was seeking. He writes, “The intellectual and moral satisfaction that I failed to gain from the utilitarianism of Bentham and Mill, the revolutionary methods of Marx and Lenin, the social contract theory of Hobbes, the ‘back to nature’ optimism of Rousseau, the superman philosophy of Nietzsche, I found in the nonviolent resistance philosophy of Gandhi.” His liberal study of the classical western canon led him to seek wisdom from South Asia.
Nor did King’s extensive study of philosophy cause him to lose his faith. If anything, it strengthened it, and led him to pursue a Ph.D. in theology. For the more he studied history, and the more he contemplated the twin evils of racism and poverty in America, the more King was inclined to believe in the reality of sin and man’s essential fallenness. He writes that “reason, devoid of the purifying power of faith, can never free itself from distortions and rationalizations.”
After Crozer, King pursued his Ph.D. at Boston University’s School of Theology, where he continued to study both philosophy and theology. That period of study solidified his two most important convictions: (1) the reality of a personal God and (2) the dignity and worth of all humans. What liberal education helped him to discover were the metaphysical underpinnings of these beliefs, and the arguments that he would need to defend them.
During his early years as a pastor, as King was deciding whether to support the Montgomery bus boycotts, he had to ask himself whether the means were in line with his moral principles. For he had studied his Machiavelli and Aquinas, and he believed with the latter against the former that good ends did not justify immoral means. Drawing on his study of Thoreau, he decided that the boycott was right and just because it was best understood as a refusal to cooperate with evil. Drawing on his study of Gandhi, he decided that nonviolent protest was the best means to express the power of Christian charity.
After the success of the Montgomery bus boycotts, King became an internationally recognized political figure. He returned to Morehouse College in 1962 to teach philosophy (see his syllabus and his final exam). It was a course in political philosophy, and if you study the syllabus carefully, you will see the sources of some of his most famous political statements, including his “I have a dream” speech and his “Letter from a Birmingham Jail.” In that letter, he calls on the figure of Socrates—a “nonviolent gadfly”—as someone who well understood that it is better to suffer injustice than to commit it. He also addresses the movement’s willingness to break the Jim Crow laws in Alabama. Drawing on St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas, King notes that there is a distinction between a just law (one that accords with the moral law and eternal law of God) and an unjust law that merely expresses the will to dominate and subdue others. He also draws on the Protestant theologian Paul Tillich and the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber to argue that the laws of segregation are unjust. The letter is powerful—the work of a scholar-activist who genuinely wants to convince others of the righteousness of his cause and the legitimacy of his tactics.
Dr. King’s mastery of the Western canon deeply formed his intellect, which is the ultimate source of his activism. His liberal education helped him understand what justice is and how to fight for it within the limits of his deeply Christian commitments. As calls to “decolonize” the curriculum grow louder in today’s education circles, we should look to Dr. King as an eminent case for teaching the canon. The study of the classics helped Martin Luther King Jr. understand what is a good human being and a good citizen, and we should not forget, neglect, or downplay that aspect of his legacy for future generations.
For the vast majority of America’s children, going to school has changed little from their parents’ generation, even their grandparents’: Where you live is where you learn, in a school run by your local public school district. But last year, Arizona functionally declared its school-aged students free agents, putting parents, not real estate agents, in control of directing where and how their children are educated. In time, the effect could be as disruptive to K–12 public education as the transfer portal and “name, image, and likeness” deals have been to college athletics.
More than a decade ago, Arizona passed a first-in-the-nation education savings account (ESA) law with eligibility restricted mostly to families of children with special needs. Last September, Arizona expanded the program, adding $1 billion in funding for public education and giving every parent the power of the purse—putting in their hands 90 percent of the state’s share of education spending, an average of $7,000 per child, which parents can use to pay for tutoring, online education, or other authorized educational expenses—including private school tuition.
If lawmakers assumed that setting families free with a backpack full of cash would create a market for quality private school operators to open or expand, their faith is about to be rewarded. Arizona’s most successful charter school operator, Great Hearts Academies, which operates forty-two charter schools in Arizona and Texas, has quietly been courting churches and pastors to partner in a network of private Christian academies aimed at low- and middle-income families, with tuition paid almost entirely with ESA funds. Great Hearts officials confirm they will shortly begin recruiting families to schools in the network, dubbed Great Hearts Christos. Plans call for three church-based schools to be opened in the Phoenix area this August.
“This is our response to the legislation,” said Great Hearts Chairman and CEO Jay Heiler, who compared Arizona’s ESA expansion to the law authorizing charter schools nearly thirty years ago. “Parents may now directly receive and direct funds to support their child’s education. And that directs us to the creation of private schools in response to that policy.”
By expanding the state’s ESA to permit universal eligibility, Arizona becomes the most interesting public education state in the nation and an emerging laboratory for innovative school choice policies and programs. The state has long shown a stronger appetite for choice than nearly every other U.S. state. Much of this has to do with who avails themselves of choice options in Arizona.
Nationally, the best-known charter schools tend to serve mostly low-income families of color in inner cities long beset by educational failure. In Arizona, however, Great Hearts, BASIS, and other charter schools are popular choices among relatively affluent suburban families. This dynamic has tended to insulate Arizona charter schools from the partisan political fights common to other states, creating a more hospitable political climate for school choice policies at large.
That said, challenges to the hegemony of traditional public schools are never without controversy, even in the deepest red states. Or in Arizona, which has earned a reputation as education’s policy’s “Wild West,” a label often invoked derisively, but one that has been embraced affectionately by choice and charter school proponents. An attempt by teachers and public-school advocates to block implementation of the expanded ESA program through a referendum initiative failed to garner enough signatures to get on the statewide ballot last November.
Still, Great Heart’s rush to open the first Christos academies less than eight months from now suggests at least some concern that Arizona’s universal ESA is likely to remain in political jeopardy under new Democratic Gov. Katie Hobbs, and in the state legislature, where Republicans, who backed the expansion, maintain a slim one-seat majority in both houses. Great Hearts declined to say if its leaders are concerned about shifting political winds, but it’s politically harder to close existing schools than to stop new ones from opening. “So far as Caesar allows, we will organize to serve parents and families,” Heiler tells me.
Jason Bedrick, a research fellow at the Heritage Foundation’s Center for Education Policy and an Arizona resident, suggests Great Hearts and other would-be private school operators are wise not to be complacent, but notes that “no private school choice program in this country—no tax credit, ESA, or voucher program—has ever been legislatively repealed” once it goes into effect. That does not mean, however, that there will not be court challenges or attempts to limit funding.
Indeed, Hobbs claims the expanded ESA “will likely bankrupt the state.” Her budget proposal released earlier this month would functionally repeal the universal ESA expansion by eliminating funding for it. Bedrick, a former New Hampshire state lawmaker, notes the original, more limited program has already withstood more than a decade of lawsuits; he thinks there is “nearly no chance” the legislature will go along with gutting the program. Arizona Speaker of the House Ben Toma was the Republican majority leader last year and the prime sponsor of the bill. “It’s his baby,” Bedrick said. “The speaker of the House is not letting the governor undo his signature achievement.”
While Arizona is positioned to become the first state to see significant numbers of students attending religious K–12 schools at public expense owing to Great Hearts move into the market, the pieces are falling into place to spread rapidly to other states. A U.S. Supreme Court decision last summer ruled that Maine cannot exclude religious schools from public funding that allows rural students to attend private schools. A legal opinion from Oklahoma’s attorney general recently cleared the way for religious charter schools. Courts in West Virginia have refused to block a school choice program nearly identical to Arizona’s. Iowa Governor Kim Reynolds introduced school choice legislation this month, and it is widely expected to pass the Republican-controlled legislature. It would make universal choice a feature of that state’s education system within three years.
The entry into the private school market of high-quality operators such as Great Hearts is a best-case scenario for school choice proponents. Critics including teachers’ unions have long pilloried vouchers, ESAs, and similar mechanisms as bids meant merely to siphon public dollars to the private sector without accountability or transparency. Great Hearts, however, enjoys a sterling reputation in the Grand Canyon State, with eighteen of its twenty-one schools earning an A rating on Arizona’s accountability system. There is also strong evidence to suggest church-based schools will be effective for the disadvantaged families Great Hearts Christos hopes to recruit. William Jeynes, a professor of education at Cal State-Long Beach and one of the nation’s leading researchers on the influence of religious schools, estimates that “just attending a faith-based school, whether a student is religious or not reduces the achievement gap [between white students and students of color] by 25 percent. Just as a matter of objectivity, shouldn’t we be doing more of this if we want the achievement gap to go down?” he said.
Following the launch of the first Christos schools this fall, plans are to open “four or five new schools a year” according to Great Hearts’ co-founder Daniel Scoggin, “and then from there to Florida, West Virginia, and other states” where ESA adoptions and expansions make the model attractive to parents and financially feasible for them. Heiler also tells me that Great Hearts’ classical school model could spawn any number of faith-based academies, not just Christian schools. “We could also open schools, for example, with Jewish communities that want a private school,” he said. “We can place schools wherever there’s a funding mechanism.”
The vast majority of students still attend a zoned, district-run public school and likely will for the foreseeable future, even with a rapid expansion of ESA programs and similar school choice funding mechanisms. Cobbling together a child’s education from a menu of providers is fair game under an ESA, but it requires a high degree of parental engagement and bandwidth; it would likely be an option only for the most committed and motivated families. Busy parents with jobs, daily routines, and obligations will always need a safe place for their children to spend their days. Low-cost private schools based in families’ church communities could pose a significant challenge to traditional public schools. Great Hearts and Arizona bear watching carefully.
Editor’s note: This was first published by The Dispatch.
Reversing decades of economic struggle in America’s former manufacturing centers is a high priority for leaders in cities and regions across the nation. Many would like to see technology-focused industries lead such a resurgence, but do they have enough qualified workers? And if not, how can they increase those numbers? A new RAND study uses quantitative and qualitative data to investigate the state of play in Pittsburgh, including comparisons with Nashville and Boston, and highlights a few important implications for the K–12 and postsecondary education sectors.
In brief, the research team finds that the seven-county Pittsburgh metro area is decently positioned to capitalize on the anticipated growth of science- and technology-focused (STF) employment sectors, with some important caveats. Approximately 18 percent of Pittsburgh’s workforce is currently employed in STF occupations, ahead of both the national share and the share in the Nashville metro area (16 percent), but lagging the Boston metro area (21 percent). Additionally, a large proportion of Pittsburgh’s STF workers are in the health sector, which requires somewhat different skills than what analysts term “technician and production-related” industries, where the most job and wage growth is expected to occur. And while Pittsburgh’s STF workforce grew as a share of the overall labor force between 2015 and 2019, the pace of growth was too slow to fill all STF positions in that period, let alone new ones expected/hoped for in the future.
For any region to capitalize on future STF growth, such trends must change. The authors discount the long-term future of remote work as a solution, noting that the most desirable STF jobs are place-based (think robotics, autonomous vehicles, and other tech-related R & D work). Instead, one set of recommendations focuses on drawing new talent into the region. Suggestions include boosting wages in STF fields, investing in civic amenities and affordable housing (a fairly easy lift for Pittsburgh since its cost of living is relatively low already), and “addressing the racial disparities in public-facing systems (such as health care and lending) to demonstrate the region’s commitment to equity.” Analysts recommend that colleges and career training academies in the region—described as having plenty of potential to train the next generation—create scholarship programs for students and especially for learners of color. Interestingly, remote learning is highly valued by the analysts, even if remote working is seen as less likely in the future. Having employers committed to these efforts—and to hiring the folks who respond to the incentives—is also deemed important.
Another set of recommendations focuses on attracting existing workers and current students toward STF employment. Two barriers in this area are a lack of understanding of STF jobs and a lack of transparent data to illustrate how education and employment connect. The first barrier appears to be a legacy of Pittsburgh’s manufacturing past. That is, focus groups indicate that STF work is seen by many as a “dirty job” with limited future potential, akin to steel-working and coal mining. Recommendations to overcome such misinformation include STF-focused career counseling in high schools and targeted recruitment efforts by undergraduate programs and employers. Public information campaigns run by regional authorities explaining and extoling the jobs and their potential benefits could also be part of the solution.
The second barrier is exemplified by the fact that the state’s longitudinal data system collects only limited information on postsecondary education, does not connect to workforce data, and is difficult to access for both researchers and practitioners. It is also separated from important data collected on outcomes for participants in programs on Pennsylvania’s Eligible Training Provider List. As a result, officials in the Pittsburgh metro area are unable to assess the effectiveness of local education and training programs, describe actual STF career pathways for students, and demonstrate the real-world value of training programs.
Some of these changes are easier than others to implement. Employers are freer than municipal or county executives to allocate money and staff to recruitment efforts and internal culture changes. And attracting new residents of any stripe depends as much on the reception of the beckoning message as the form of the message itself. The report’s call for better data alignment and transparency between K–12, postsecondary education, and the workforce is important and should be among the easier recommendations to enact. For the most part, these are state-centered data systems—one entity with a lot of pull; there are plenty of roadmaps and examples for how to achieve the final product; and the benefits of a successful effort would transcend one industry and extend into any desired workforce pathway. Pittsburgh, of course, isn’t the only region struggling to align employer needs with workers’ skills. For community leaders working on these types of efforts, this report offers an important grounding in where to start.
SOURCE: Melanie A. Zaber et al., “Assessing Pittsburgh's Science- and Technology-Focused Workforce Ecosystem,” RAND Corporation (January 2023).
Many experts have lauded community schools as a means of mitigating the impact of pandemic-era challenges facing students, but does the evidence support substantial investment? Building on the RAND Corporation’s previous research, a new working paper by researchers from Vanderbilt and RAND examines how community schools affect attendance and academic performance.
In broad terms, community schools leverage partnerships with local organizations to enhance academic and non-academic supports for students and their families. Programs can include such varied components as physical and mental health services, cultural heritage celebrations, and instruction in practical life skills from computer classes to food preparation. Previous research has suggested generally positive effects of community schools on factors like family engagement and student attendance, but these studies have been limited in their sample sizes and capacity to indicate causation.
This new research makes two key improvements. Though not necessarily nationally representative, the sample is nonetheless the largest yet, including all New York City Community Schools (NYC-CS) serving elementary and middle school students. In addition, the data run from 2014 to 2019, making the study longer-term than most of its predecessors. The study’s second noteworthy contribution lies in its statistical method, a novel amalgamation of existing methods: what researchers call a multiple rating regression discontinuity design and an additional technique known as ridge regression. This particular combination, the authors explain, compensates for potential imprecisions in the data and allows their study to imply causation, whereas other community schools studies only indicate correlation. The strategy therefore not only deepens our understanding of community schools, but also proposes a new method for evaluating other programs.
Here, analysts measured attendance using average daily attendance and chronic absenteeism, and they measured academic achievement with third through eighth graders’ scores on end-of-year math and English language arts state assessments. They also accounted for student demographics of race and ethnicity, economic disadvantage, temporary housing status, English language learner status, and disability status.
The findings were positive and statistically significant for attendance and achievement alike. Overall, daily attendance rates were 1–2 percent higher in NYC-CS compared to control schools, and chronic absenteeism rates—the percentage of students absent at least 10% of a school year—were 7–8 percent lower in NYC-CS. The reduction in chronic absenteeism occurred almost immediately, and the impact on attendance was greatest for students in the lowest and highest grades studied (K–2 and 8). On statewide assessments, NYC-CS ELA scores were about 0.08 SD higher than those of control schools, and math scores saw almost twice that level of growth, clocking in at a 0.15 SD difference. The effects for both math and ELA were largest for fourth graders and were still significant for fifth and sixth graders. For both attendance and achievement, the effect was largest in the third year of the program, which could be, as the authors note, either because students benefit from greater exposure over time to community schools services or because the programming itself improves over time.
One caveat is that the study does not parse the role of New York City’s Renewal Schools (RS) program, which aimed to support failing schools during the same time period. Many of the city’s community schools were also Renewal Schools, meaning that they also received specialized professional development, superintendent oversight, and academic interventions. The authors hold that the RS program was merely “one of the ways in which NYC implemented their community school program.” Still, given that the RS program came from a separate city initiative (and one generally considered a failure), future studies ought to consider the impact of the RS program on New York’s community schools—and perhaps whether community schools led to improvements either because or in spite of RS status.
Regardless, that NYC-CS programming bolstered both attendance and academic achievement is encouraging. Since the attendance gains occurred sooner than the academic gains, as the authors observe, the higher attendance may have led to the academic growth. If that was the case, the greater effect on math performance could have been because attendance tends to have a larger effect on performance in math than in reading. The details of the mechanism here could offer an area for future study, but until then, these promising results still advance the evidence that New York City has made a worthy investment in its community schools.
SOURCE: Lauren Covelli, John Engberg, and Isaac M. Opper, “Leading Indicators of Long-Term Success in Community Schools: Evidence from New York City,” Annenberg Institute at Brown University (November 2022).
On this week’s Education Gadfly Show podcast, Tim Daly of EdNavigator tells Mike Petrilli and David Griffith how districts should prepare for looming school closures. Then, on the Research Minute, Amber explains the effect of worker displacement on college enrollment.
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