The Supreme Court agreed on Friday afternoon to hear a landmark religious charter schools case out of Oklahoma, and it’s a much bigger deal than you might imagine.
The Supreme Court agreed on Friday afternoon to hear a landmark religious charter schools case out of Oklahoma, and it’s a much bigger deal than you might imagine.
Many of the headlines refer to whether states “can” or “may” allow religious charter schools. But that’s not the question at all; not a single state has enacted legislation allowing religious charter schools (and the Court does not like to deal in hypotheticals). Despite the efforts of a few policy wonks (among them my colleague Checker Finn and my friend Andy Smarick), not even Oklahoma has amended its charter law to greenlight religious charters.
No, the question for the Court is whether states that allow secular charter schools must allow religious charter schools, too. And given a recent string of decisions, it seems very likely that SCOTUS will say yes.
I won’t get deep into the legalities here; excellent backgrounders are available from Education Next’s Joshua Dunn and Notre Dame’s Nicole Stelle Garnett. But in lay terms: The Court might view charter schools as essentially government contractors, rather than parts of the government itself. And it might also rule that denying charters to otherwise qualified nonprofits merely because of their religious nature amounts to anti-religious discrimination and thus violates the First Amendment’s Free Exercise Clause.
The impact that such a ruling could have on America’s educational landscape is massive. Religious charter schools will be legal overnight in every one of the forty-six states with charter school laws on the books. Religious private schools nationwide will surely take a close look at applying for charters. Becoming a charter school would unlock thousands of dollars per pupil for their operations and free their families from needing to pay tuition. That will be hugely attractive, especially with private schools struggling to stay afloat financially and those that predominantly serve low-income or working-class families.
However, becoming a charter school wouldn’t necessarily come without a cost. Charter schools must give their students federally-required assessments and face extensive auditing and transparency requirements. These “costs” are foreseeable, but there are some unknowns, as well.
The main one is whether religious charter schools will be allowed to prioritize members of their faith when admitting students. (Charter schools generally have to take all comers, and hold a lottery if oversubscribed.) Also, will they be allowed to exclude children or families that don’t abide by their values, including LGBTQ students or families? Could they hire only adherents to their religion as teachers and other staff? The Court—if it finds that states must allow religious schools—will need to spell all this out. If not, these questions are likely to be litigated for years to come.
I suspect we’ll see thousands of Catholic and other religious schools turn into charter schools in every corner of the country in the next year or two. But that’s not a foregone conclusion, for a few reasons. For one, some state charter laws make it hard for private schools (even non-religious ones) to “convert” to charter status, though those challenges can probably be overcome. More importantly, states, districts, and authorizers that don’t want religious charter schools might decide to stop approving new charters altogether. Unless the Court rules that such a move itself amounts to religious discrimination, it would be a disaster for the charter school sector—and is what has charter advocacy leaders, who oppose religious charters, understandably worried.
Policymakers and authorizers in red states would likely make their peace with religious charters—if not embrace them outright. Granted, many of those states already provide publicly-funded scholarships or education savings accounts; their religious schools will have to decide whether the extra funding that would come from “going charter” would be worth the hassle in terms of the additional red tape—and fair bit of uncertainty—that would surely follow.
But it would be easy to imagine blue states and their districts and authorizers clamping down on new charter schools altogether, especially given the political left’s antipathy to anything that blurs the line between church and state.
Ironically, then, the Supreme Court might be about to answer the teachers unions’ prayers by critically wounding the most successful education reform initiative in a generation.
Editor’s note: This was first published on the author’s Substack, Governing Right.
The Supreme Court of the United States has agreed to decide whether faith-based charter schools are constitutional.
Please forgive my brief self-focus, but this is an exciting turn of events for me. I first wrote about this issue almost fifteen years ago, hypothesizing why this then-nearly inconceivable concept might be possible. Since then, I’ve returned to the topic from time to time as state-level action and court decisions gradually made the idea seem less inconceivable.
Today, some folks want to frame this case (reviewing a decision of the Oklahoma Supreme Court) in culture-war terms: the collapse of the church-state wall, the social impact of the conservative Court, and so on.
I want to convince you of something else. Yes, the case involves the collision of the First Amendment’s two religion clauses. And yes, a series of Roberts-Court precedents all but guaranteed that SCOTUS would eventually need to consider charters.
But faith-based chartering is among the most interesting school-policy issues of the last half-century. It forces us to reckon with peculiar but foundational education choices made by officials 150 years ago. It goes to the heart of American pluralism, localism, and civil society. And perhaps most importantly, it requires that we define “public” education, which is way harder than you probably thought.
I want you to end this column knowing two things. First, the Court is going to find that states generally cannot prohibit faith-based nonprofits from operating faith-based schools under state charter-school laws. Second, that Court decision is sensible, good for schooling, and good for America.
One sector of public education: Government monopoly
The most important thing to understand about this issue is that once states adopted charter-school laws more than thirty years ago, eventually courts would have to deal with faith-based applicants. The second most important thing to understand is this day would have never come had states not adopted charter-school laws.
Here’s what I mean.
When our “common school” movement got started (this is the beginning of public education in America) in the middle of the nineteenth century, we made a decision that other nations did not make. We chose to have the government, and only the government, run public schools. School boards, which control school districts, are local-government entities. We decided that these public bodies would own and operate all public schools in a particular geographic area. So districts were established as public monopolies.[1]
Eventually, due to changes in state constitutions and a mountain of court cases, school boards ended up as unquestionably subsidiary to state governments. State governments now have ultimate control over public K–12 education. But as a matter of practice, state governments don’t really run schools; they instead delegate their K–12 authority to these local units.[2]
But the point is that from the mid 1800s until 1990, “public education” meant “government-operated schools.” We didn’t have to do this. There’s certainly a logic to it. But it wasn’t inevitable. We simply chose, for 150 years, to have all public schools be government-run schools. If you like Venn diagrams, think of the “public education” circle being a perfect overlap of the “government-run schools” circle.
That means that, in K–12 education, when we thought “public,” we thought “government-operated.” So when we thought of public-education policy, we thought of policy related to government-operated entities. And when courts thought of the powers and limits of public schools, they though in terms of the powers and limits of government-operated entities.
You can now see why we had to have secular public schools: Because they were government-operated. Government entities cannot be faith-based (per the Establishment Clause). There’s no such thing as a religious U.S. Post Office or a religious state department of housing. But even beyond the fact that public schools were government operated, they also had certain characteristics that would’ve required their secular nature. For instance, kids were required by compulsory-education laws to go to school, and if they didn’t go to private schools or homeschools, they were assigned to public schools based on their home addresses. There were no choices in the public-education space. And there was one school-provider per district (the local school board). To be clear: We couldn’t have kids assigned to religious schools.
But everything changed with chartering.
The second public education sector
State governments are required by their constitutions to ensure that public schools are provided. But the state government doesn’t have to run public schools. It doesn’t even have to delegate school operations solely to local government entities. State governments are allowed to develop other ways to ensure public schools are provided. That’s what chartering is: State laws allowed the state government to authorize nonprofits to run public schools. Importantly, these nonprofit-run public schools would be choice-based schools—no one would be required to attend a charter school. District-run schools would still exist; charters would be a supplement.
So post-chartering, we could no longer say that “public school” was synonymous with “government-run school.” Instead, we had two types of public schools. First were the government-run schools that were enrolled via residence-based assignment and whose employees were employees of the government and whose policies were dictated by state and local rules. Second were chartered public schools that are run by private nonprofits, are enrolled based on the choices of parents, and that are given explicit freedom from many state and local rules.
Because we have two very different sectors of public education now, we can no longer talk about the rules related to public schools in the way we did prior to chartering. And this is where those opposed to faith-based chartering end up in a pickle.
It was absolutely true prior to 1990 that public schools were government-owned, government-run, assignment-based entities. So saying “Public schools must be entirely secular” was accurate, even indisputable. We knew exactly what defined a public school: It was entirely possessed and controlled by the government, its employees were government employees, its students were assigned based on where they lived, and so on.
But now that we have chartering, it is far harder to define a public school. What exactly makes it a public school? Well, we know that charters are considered public under state and federal law. But charters are run by nonprofits. They are choice-based. Their employees are not government employees.[3] They are free from many state and local laws. In fact, I wrote a report twenty years ago pointing out that the preambles of state charter laws are very, very clear about how different these public schools are supposed to be from traditional, government-run public schools.
So in what sense are charters public?
Private entities, public work
Your answer might be something like, “They are carrying out a task that the government wants done, and they get lots of government money.” But according to lots and lots of court cases—and lots and lots of state and federal programs—private nonprofits often get funded by the government to do things the government wants done. Think clinics, libraries, social services, etc. This does not suddenly turn the nonprofit into a government entity. It simply makes it a private entity involved in public work. Such nonprofits generally retain their rights as private organizations.
And because of three major Roberts-Court decisions (Trinity Lutheran, Espinoza, Carson) over the last decade, SCOTUS has made abundantly clear that once a government opens the door to the participation of nongovernmental bodies, that government cannot single our faith-based groups for exclusion. That violates the Free Exercise portion of the First Amendment.
I’ve gone on too long. But I could go on for thousands of more words about how chartering fits America’s commitment to localism, pluralism, and an active civil society. I could discuss how faith-based schools already get loads of public funding via scholarship programs, ESAs, and so on. I could discuss other relevant court cases or the powers enjoyed by state governments under state-constitutional educational provisions. All of that is important.
But the key point here is that, since 1990, we’ve had two sectors of public education, and those two sectors are very different. The pre-1990 definition of public education no longer obtains (i.e., government owned and operated, entirely beholden to uniform state and local rules, enrolled by assignment), and as a result the legal rules that were obvious pre-1990 are no longer obvious.
For as long as there are government-run public schools, those schools will be secular. But chartered public schools are private entities engaged in public work. Since the government opened up the operation of public schools (via chartering) to a wide array of private nonprofits, it cannot single out faith-based entities for exclusion.
I’m not sure if Justice Barrett will participate in the decision, but I suspect her vote won’t matter. It will be 5-3, with Chief Justice Roberts writing. The opinion will vacate the Oklahoma decision. I bet it will say something along the lines of:
Oklahoma did not have to adopt charter schooling. It could have continued to have only one sector of public education: a government-run sector. But once Oklahoma (and other states for that matter) allowed independent private entities to operate public schools under contract with an authorizer, all nonprofits became eligible to participate. It is a violation of the First Amendment for Oklahoma’s state government or any government entity to single out a religious group for exclusion. Bear in mind: Social-justice nonprofits can run social-justice charters, expeditionary-learning nonprofits can run expeditionary-learning charters, Montessori nonprofits can run Montessori charters. Therefore faith-based nonprofits can run faith-based charters. It would be obvious, unconstitutional religious discrimination to permit social-justice, expeditionary-learning, and Montessori charters while categorically banning faith-based charters.
[1] In rare instances, a public school could be run by a local entity other than a traditional district, for instance a county government.
[2] Some state governments have occasionally run some schools. For instance, states have had “schools for the blind” and “schools for the deaf,” and some states run magnet/gifted schools. But these are rare compared to district run schools.
[3] This is almost always the case. It’s a long story related to the differences of state charter laws. But it can be the case that a charter is run by a nonprofit while its teachers are technically employed by the district and covered by the local CBA.
The data are out, and as everybody now knows—and as Mike Petrilli foresaw—they’re pretty grim. Here’s the short version, straight from the National Center for Education Statistics:
Grade 4 mathematics scores improved between 2022 and 2024, a two-point gain that follows a 5-point decline from 2019 to 2022.... Eighth-grade scores in mathematics showed no significant change.
The most notable challenges evident in the 2024 data are in reading comprehension. Reading scores dropped in both fourth and eighth grades since 2022, continuing declines first reported in 2019, before the pandemic.... In 2024, the percentage of eighth-graders’ reading below NAEP Basic was the largest in the assessment’s history, and the percentage of fourth-graders who scored below NAEP Basic was the largest in twenty years.
In eighth grade, the data also show widening gaps since 2022 between higher- and lower-performing students as higher performers regained ground lost and their lower-performing peers continued to decline or show no notable progress.
In eighth-grade mathematics, this widening gap is most pronounced. Lower-performing students declined, while higher-performing students improved. As a result of this divergence in performance, the average score in 2024 was not significantly different than in 2022.
In fourth-grade mathematics, the gap also grew as the scores of the lowest performing students did not change significantly from 2022, while the highest performing students’ scores increased.
In reading, lower-performing students struggled the most. At both fourth and eighth grades, the scores of students at the 10th and 25th percentiles in 2024 were lower than the first NAEP reading assessment in 1992.
As usual, the Nation’s Report Card contains a vast trove of information, both national and state-level, that analysts will pore over for years to come, and like the blind men’s elephant, one comes away with different impressions of what’s going on depending on what part of the report one focuses on and what one is comparing, especially what previous years are chosen for comparison.
Meanwhile, though, the University of Washington’s Dan Goldhaber, not known for overstatement, told the Washington Post that “I don’t think this is the canary in the coal mine. This is a flock of dead birds in the coal mine.”
Others, perhaps especially state leaders, feel the need to put a cheerier spin on their NAEP results. In Maryland, where I live, the State Board of Education took satisfaction from how the Old Line State has improved its rankings vis-à -vis other states. In eighth grade reading, for example, it rose from twenty-fifth to twenty-first, while admitting that “results have not yet returned to pre-pandemic levels.” (To me, what’s more consequential is that one full third of Maryland eighth graders remain “below basic” in reading and only one third are “proficient”. What does that portend for a state’s future?)
Much of this week’s NAEP talk is about widening gaps between high and low achievers—and there’s no denying that a flat average can (and does) mask gains in the upper levels and losses down below. We see a lot of that in the new results and of course it’s worrisome. So, too, is the overall failure—so far—of America’s obsession with “science of reading” in the early grades to arrest the decline in fourth grade reading scores. (The Maryland average is up from 2022 but far below all prior years—as 41 percent of the state’s fourth graders remain “below basic,” which is to say basically illiterate.)
Also getting much jabber—of course—is how weakly the country as a whole has “recovered” from the dire effects of pandemic school closures—especially considering how much extra money was poured into schools to counteract those effects.
Yet journalists, analysts, and politicians alike will remain frustrated by NAEP’s inability to explain why scores are where they are and have or have not changed. Like most report cards, this one describes the patient’s present condition. It supplies no diagnosis, much less a comprehensive discussion of causation. Which leaves everyone free to speculate, theorize, and pontificate. A favorite explanatory candidate for 2024’s dire performance is chronic absenteeism, perhaps combined with phones and screens and the fact that few kids today can be spotted just “reading a book” in their spare time.
Personally, I ascribe much of the mess to America losing interest in standards and accountability—and our national leaders’ neglect of educational achievement as a national priority. After four consecutive presidents for whom this was a priority, for example, we’ve now had two in a row—and likely now commencing a third—who were (to my knowledge) never heard to utter the words “academic achievement."
But maybe that’s just me.
The head-scratching, soul-searching, gut-spilling, and blame-casting will surely continue for many months to come—and it’s a fine thing at least to have this great big problem back in focus. Yet I don’t expect it to prove a “Sputnik moment.” We won’t find a consensus, we probably won’t do much more about it than we’ve been doing, and everyone’s attention will gradually shift back to their private issues, the craziness in Washington, and the menacing world outside.
N.B.: All of this is about grades four and eight. This Report Card tells us nothing about what’s happening in the high-school years. We last saw those scores in 2019, at which point 30 percent of twelfth graders were reading below basic and just 37 percent were at least proficient.
From its founding, the lodestone of the Knowledge Matters Campaign has been evidence-based, content-rich English language arts (ELA) curricula. A possible unintended consequence of the success of this movement has been reduced instruction in science and social studies.
I love reading and discussing books, and my broad understanding of history, geography, economics, and human behavior—all of which are taught under the banner of social studies—makes reading more enjoyable. These knowledge domains are fundamental to literacy.
This past November, I traveled to Boston to learn more about Massachusetts’s Investigating History Curriculum. The visit underscored how much good history instruction contributes to kids’ reading skills. I talked with a fifth grader whose class was learning about people who lived in North America in the 1750s. His task was to determine which values informed their identities.
Describing Theyanoguin, a Mohawk clan leader, the boy said, “He was a Christian.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“See here,” he responded, pointing to the text. “It says he was baptized by a Dutch missionary.”
He wouldn’t have described it this way, but the boy was making an inference. The clan leader’s religion wasn’t stated explicitly, but the student could make a reasonable guess from the facts he had.
Writers assume we bring knowledge to a story. If they had to explain everything, their tales would be long and boring. They know that “baptism” implies a set of values that inform that character’s life and behavior.
The meaningful manner in which we connect ideas is what cognitive psychologists call “inferential comprehension.” It’s one of the powerful ways we learn. And research shows that narrative texts—stories—have incredible power for making knowledge stick. A research review led by Canadian professor Raymond Mar, looking at 33,000 participants across 150 different reading studies, concluded, “People have an easier time comprehending and recalling information presented in a story compared to that presented in an essay.”
In one sense, this should come as no surprise. The stories that Homer codified as the Odyssey, or that the Rabbis collected as the Bible, feature compelling characters struggling with powerful forces. Love and hate. Greed and kindness. One-eyed monsters, prophets swallowed by giant fish, rocks that crush ships. Great stories stick in our minds.
But not all great stories are fictional. Daniel James Brown’s The Boys in the Boat tells the gripping saga of nine athletes who came from rural Washington to triumph at the Berlin Olympics in 1936. Ron Chernow’s Hamilton is the basis for a wildly successful musical about a Caribbean immigrant who arrived in New York with nothing and charted the course of a new nation. A man with God-given gifts who, like a Greek hero, was laid low by hubris.
For decades, we’ve bemoaned how remarkably little our students know about history. There are many reasons for this, but a critical one is that we rarely take advantage of their first years in school to provide structured and consistent social studies instruction. This is compounded by our failure to provide elementary teachers much, if any, history training during their preparation classes. The result is that teachers are often uncomfortable teaching it.
Lacking a coherent curriculum, students get history by the month. In October, it’s a lesson on DĂa de los Muertos for Hispanic heritage. In February, they decorate bulletin boards for Black history. March? Women’s history projects. These celebrations are an understandable reaction to a collective ignorance or minimization of the roles of marginalized people, and students should learn about the impact of people like Abigail Adams, Frederick Douglass, and Fred Korematsu. But how much stronger it would be if they did so in the natural course of studying the period in which they lived? Our Balkanized approach, consisting of names, dates, and places unanchored in time and devoid of context, ignores the interconnected nature of history and powerful “stickiness” of stories.
A comprehensive, content-rich history curriculum offers a superior approach, one that distinguishes between truths and myths, primary sources and secondary ones. Exposed consistently to coherent, compelling stories, students would build a cohesive understanding of our history that prepares them much more effectively to carry on the civic work of perfecting our imperfect Union.
Of course, history is written in many ways. It can reinforce social expectations and national narratives, or it can challenge them. From facts, students gain an understanding of the time and space in which history occurs; from myths like George Washington and the cherry tree, they learn how a nation wants to see itself. But absent a high-quality history curriculum, accompanied by well-integrated professional learning, few students will develop the civic sensibility and judgment essential to keeping our republic.
In the coming months, the Knowledge Matters Campaign plans to visit schools and districts to chronicle the journey of principals, teachers, and administrators who have recognized history curriculum’s power. One feature we expect to see in these materials, like I saw in Boston, is the use of well-crafted, age-appropriate stories.
We do our nation and our children a grave disservice by failing to take advantage of elementary school to lay a historical foundation. Students should know that Abigail Adams’s advice for her husband about how a new nation should govern itself was “action civics,” long before the term was fashionable. Frederick Douglass shows us what individual initiative can accomplish in the face of incredible barriers. And well before it was popular to chant “no justice, no peace,” Fred Korematsu opposed prejudice, even as it alienated him from his own community. Stories like theirs deserve to be told more than once a year as superficial nods to their gender or ethnic origin.
Author’s note: To learn more about the connection between strong social studies instruction and literacy, check out Can Social Studies Benefit from Lessons Learned in ELA? and History Lesson for the Future of Social Studies, Courtesy of the High Quality Curriculum Movement.
Editor’s note: This was first published by the Knowledge Matters Campaign.
Ignite Reading is one of many tutoring interventions unleashed upon America’s schools to try to mitigate learning loss experienced by students in the wake of pandemic-era school closures. The program is advertised as a one-to-one virtual tutoring service that leverages science-of-reading principles as well as individually-targeted, data-driven instruction to help boost the literacy development of young readers. The Center for Research and Reform in Education at Johns Hopkins University conducted a comprehensive mixed-methods evaluation to assess Ignite Reading’s impact on student outcomes and its integration into districts’ instructional frameworks in Massachusetts. Their report was released in December.
Funding for the Ignite Reading intervention came from Boston’s One8 Foundation, which offered grants to districts wishing to access tutoring resources for the 2023–24 school year. In order to apply, districts had to be using a science of reading-aligned ELA curriculum, have provided appropriate professional development to all K–2 teachers, had to commit to literacy screenings for first graders, and had to identify a single staff member to be responsible for all aspects of the rollout. Grants were awarded based on the projected number of first graders with foundational reading needs (up to 300 individuals per district), and participating districts committed to maintaining an average tutoring attendance rate of at least 75 percent of eligible students.
A total of thirteen public school districts across the state received awards, each serving high-concentrations of students living in poverty. Researchers Amanda Neitzel and Joseph Reilly examined the program’s impact on 1,872 first-grade students who received tutoring in those districts, comparing their outcomes on the Dynamic Indicators of Basic Early Literacy Skills (DIBELS) assessment to national norms, as well as a comparison group of 518 first graders who did not receive tutoring but were similar in all other respects. Tests were administered at the start of the school year before tutoring began, and again at the end of the year, once tutoring was completed.
The majority of students receiving tutoring were Hispanic (45 percent) or White (39 percent), with 40 percent classified as English learners and 14 percent receiving special education services. The vast majority of students (74 percent) exhibited kindergarten-level skills in start-of-year testing; the rest were mainly at a first-grade level, with a tiny fraction at second grade.
Tutored students showed significant gains in literacy outcomes, with an average improvement of 5.4 additional months of learning. The expected test score gain from start-of-year to end-of-year based on national norms was 80 points, but the tutoring group registered a much larger gain of 127.89 points. All subgroups of students experienced substantial growth, with only small differences between them. Additionally, far more students exhibited first-grade-level skills (64 percent) or second-grade-level skills (28 percent) on the end-of-year test, a huge improvement over the start-of-year data.
In the other comparison, against the non-treatment students in Massachusetts, the tutoring group also showed significantly higher literacy gains, with an effect size of 0.21 standard deviations. Interestingly however, the proportion of students exhibiting kindergarten-, first-grade- and second-grade-level skills at pre- and post-test were not significantly different between the two groups, although the reason for this is unclear.
The report also includes ample qualitative data gathered via surveys administered to participating educators, literacy specialists, principals, and district leaders. Among other findings, teachers were impressed with the ability of Ignite Reading to serve many students efficiently and reported seeing improvement in their students’ abilities, despite some lingering issues over technology access and reliability.
While it would be interesting to know what non-Ignite supports the comparison students in Massachusetts schools may have received above business-as-usual instruction, it nonetheless seems clear that the strong design and rigorous implementation of Ignite Reading had a positive impact on the students who could access it. Neitzel and Reilly are effusive in their conclusion, saying that the intervention “has demonstrated substantial promise as a scalable, virtual tutoring solution for improving early literacy outcomes.” But that only holds true if there are a lot of new dollars available—from philanthropic organizations or elsewhere—ready to expand the program widely. Massachusetts does seem bullish on funding tutoring, but unless Ignite Reading can lower its cost (approximately $2,500 per student annually), even the $38 million state lawmakers have pledged over the next five years will only scratch the surface of the need.
SOURCE: Amanda J. Neitzel and Joseph Reilly, “An Evaluation of Ignite Reading Virtual Literacy Tutoring in Massachusetts,” The Center for Research and Reform in Education at Johns Hopkins University (December 2024).
On this week’s Education Gadfly Show podcast, Tim Daly, CEO of EdNavigator, joins Mike and David to discuss whether America should refocus its efforts on helping our lowest-performing students and explore the best ways to address this challenge. Then, on the Research Minute, Amber shares a study on how students prepare for tests and the effectiveness of their strategies.
Recommended content:
Tim Daly, “We’re living through an education depression,” Thomas B. Fordham Institute (November 1, 2024).
Michael J. Petrilli, “Get ready for more bad news from NAEP 2024” Thomas B. Fordham Institute  (January 16, 2025)
Robert Pondiscio, “After a “lost decade,” let’s restore high expectations for students,” Thomas B. Fordham Institute (December 12, 2024).
Fatema Sultana, Richard C. Watkins, Tarek Al Baghal and John Carl Hughes, An Evaluation of Secondary School Students’ Use and Understanding of Learning Strategies to Study and Revise for Science Examinations, Education Sciences (2025)
Feedback Welcome: Have ideas for improving our podcast? Send them to Stephanie Distler at [email protected].
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