Category: Opinion

  • How We Outperformed National Reading Scores – And Kept Students at Grade Level – The 74

    How We Outperformed National Reading Scores – And Kept Students at Grade Level – The 74


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    As reading scores remain a top concern for schools nationwide, many districts are experimenting with ability-based grouping in the early grades. The idea is to group students in multiple grade levels by their current reading level — not their grade level. A classroom could have seven kindergartners, 10 first graders, and three second graders grouped together for reading because they all read at the same level.

    While this may work for some schools, in our district, Rockwood School District in Missouri, we’ve chosen a different path. We keep students together in their class during whole-class instruction — regardless of ability level — and provide support or enrichment by creating flexible groups based on instructional needs within their grade level.

    We’re building skilled, confident readers not by separating them, but by growing them together.

    Children, like adults, learn and grow in diverse groups. In a Rockwood classroom, every student contributes to the shared learning environment — and every student benefits from being part of it.

    Our approach starts with whole-class instruction. All students, including English multilingual learners and those working toward grade-level benchmarks, participate in daily, grade-level phonics and comprehension lessons. We believe these shared experiences are foundational — not just for building literacy, but for fostering community and academic confidence.

    After our explicit, whole-group lessons, students move into flexible, needs-based small groups informed by real-time data and observations. Some students receive reteaching, while others take on enrichment activities. During these blocks, differentiation is fluid: A student may need decoding help one day and vocabulary enrichment the next. No one is locked into a static tier. Every day is a new opportunity.

    Students also engage in daily independent and partner reading. In addition, reading specialists provide targeted, research-based interventions for striving readers who need additional instruction.

    We build movement into our instruction, as well — not as a brain break, but as a learning tool. We use gestures for phonemes, tapping for spelling and jumping to count syllables. These are “brain boosts,” helping young learners stay focused and engaged.

    We challenge all students, regardless of skill level. During phonics and word work, advanced readers work with more complex texts and tasks. Emerging readers receive the time and scaffolded support they need — such as visual cues and pre-teaching or exposing students to a concept or skill before it’s formally taught during a whole-class lesson. That can help them fully participate in every class. A student might not yet be able to decode or encode every word, but they are exposed to the grade-level standards and are challenged to meet the high expectations we have for all students.

    During shared and interactive reading lessons, all students are able to practice fluency and build their comprehension skills and vocabulary knowledge. Through these shared experiences, every child experiences success.

    There’s a common misconception that mixed-ability classrooms hold back high achievers or overwhelm striving readers. But in practice, engagement depends more on how we teach rather than who is in the room. With well-paced, multimodal lessons grounded in grade-level content, every learner finds an entry point.

    You’ll see joy, movement, and mutual respect in our classrooms — because when we treat students as capable, they rise. And when we give them the right tools, not labels, they use them.

    While ability grouping may seem like a practical solution, research suggests it can have a lasting downside. A Northwestern University study of nearly 12,000 students found that those placed in the lowest kindergarten reading groups rarely caught up to their peers. For example, when you group a third grader with first graders, when does the older child get caught up? Even if he learns and progresses with his ability group, he’s still two grade levels behind his third-grade peers.

    This study echoes what researchers refer to as the Matthew Effect in reading: The rich get richer, and the poor get poorer. Lower-track students are exposed to less complex vocabulary and fewer comprehension strategies. Once placed on that path, it’s hard to catch up. Once a student is assigned a label, it’s difficult to change it — for both the student and educators.

    In Rockwood, we’re confident in what we’re doing. We have effective, evidence-based curricula for Tier I phonics and comprehension, and every student receives the same whole-class instruction as every other student in their grade. Then, students receive intervention or enrichment as needed.

    At the end of the 2024–25 school year, our data affirmed what we see every day. Our kindergarteners outperformed national proficiency averages in every skill group — in some cases by more than 17 percentage points, according to our Reading Horizons data. Our first and second graders outpaced national averages across nearly every domain. We don’t claim to have solved the literacy crisis — or know that our model will work for every district, school, classroom or student — but we’re building readers before gaps emerge.

    We’ve learned that when every student receives strong Tier I instruction, no one gets left behind. The key isn’t separating kids by ability. It’s designing instruction that’s universally strong and strategically supported.

    We recognize that every community faces distinct challenges. If you’re a district leader weighing the trade-offs of ability grouping, consider this: When you pull students out of the room during critical learning moments, the rich vocabulary, the shared texts and the academic conversation, you are not closing the learning gap, but creating a bigger one. Those critical moments build more than skills; they build readers.

    In Rockwood, our data confirms what we see every day: students growing not only in skills, but also in confidence, stamina and joy. We’re proving that inclusive, grade-level-first instruction can work — and work well — for all learners.


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  • Learning to debate is an important facet of education, but too often public school students are left out 

    Learning to debate is an important facet of education, but too often public school students are left out 

    Ever since I first stepped onto the debate stage, I have been passionate about speech and debate. For the last three of my high school years, I have competed and placed nationally at major tournaments in Dallas, Los Angeles, Chicago, Atlanta and Las Vegas, among many others. Debate demands an incredible amount of research, preparation and practice, but those aren’t the biggest challenges for me.  

    I attend a public high school in California that lacks a formal debate program or coach, which has forced me to choose between quitting an activity I love and competing independently without any school support.  

    I chose the latter. And that means I prepare alone in the dark, navigate complex registration processes and, most importantly, pay hefty fees. 

    As many of us know, debate is an effective way to strengthen students’ comprehension, critical thinking and presentation skills. Debate allows students to explore ideas in a myriad of topics, from biotechnology to nuclear proliferation​​​​, and find their unique passions and interests. 

    Yet for many students, a lack of school support is a major entry barrier. It has turned debate into another private-school-dominated space, where private-school students receive access to higher quality research and on-the-spot coaching on argument structure and prose, like a football coach adjusting strategy on the sidelines. Additionally, most prestigious tournaments in the U.S. prohibit non-school-affiliated debaters like me from competing altogether.  

    Related: A lot goes on in classrooms from kindergarten to high school. Keep up with our free weekly newsletter on K-12 education.  

    These circumstances de facto prevent lower-income debaters from becoming successful in the activity. And that is why I believe that all schools should incorporate speech and debate classes into their core curriculums. Existing history and English teachers could act as debate coaches, as they do in many private schools. School districts could even combine programs across high schools to save resources while expanding access (Mountain View High School and Los Altos High School in California have pursued this strategy).  

    Over the past two decades, the debate community has engaged in efforts to democratize access to speech and debate through the creation of new formats (for example, public forum), local debate associations and urban debate leagues, among others.  

    However, many of these initiatives haven’t been successful. These newer formats, initially intended to lessen the research burden on debaters, have shifted toward emphasizing strict evidence standards and complex debate jargon. This shift has made debate less, not more, accessible, and led to more students from private schools — who were quickly able to ​​​​out-prepare those from public​​ schools — entering and dominating the competition.  

    Local debate associations and​​​​ competitive leagues for neighboring schools have provided more students with opportunities to participate. Still, debate via these organizations is limited, as they don’t provide direct coaching to member schools or rigorous opportunities for students, and prohibit certain students and programs from competing.  

    Similarly, urban debate leagues (for example, the Los Angeles Metropolitan ​​​​Debate League) have been incredibly successful in expanding debate access to lower-income and minority students; however, these programs are concentrated in major metropolitan cities, face opposition from some school districts and rely on donor funding, which can be uncertain.  

    In my debate rounds, I have analyzed pressing social problems such as global warming and economic inequality through a policymaking lens; in some rounds I defended increased wealth taxes, and in others I argued against bans on fossil fuels. Without debate, I wouldn’t be so conscious of the issues in my community. Now, as I enter college, I’m looking forward to continuing debate and leveraging my skills to fight for change.  

    Related: High school students find common ground on the debate stage 

    Speaking of college, in the competition for admission to the most selective colleges, extracurricular involvement can be a deciding factor, and debate is an excellent way to stand out, at least for those students with proper support.  

    However, when students from rural and low-income communities lack access to the same opportunities as students from more metropolitan and higher-income communities, we risk exacerbating the educational achievement gap to our collective detriment.  

    In the meantime, debate tournaments should reduce entry barriers for nontraditional debaters and for students from public schools without coaches and extra support.  

    Without these initiatives, too many rural and low-income students will be excluded from an amazing activity, one that is especially important in today’s polarizing and divisive climate.  

    Aayush Gandhi is a student at Dublin High School. He is an avid writer and nationally ranked Lincoln-Douglas debater.  

    Contact the opinion editor at [email protected].  

    This story about debate programs was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for Hechinger’s weekly newsletter.  

    The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.

    Join us today.

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  • We cannot afford to dismantle Head Start, a program that builds futures, strengthens families and delivers proven returns

    We cannot afford to dismantle Head Start, a program that builds futures, strengthens families and delivers proven returns

    The first words I uttered after successfully defending my dissertation were, “Wow, what a ride. From Head Start to Ph.D.!” Saying them reminded me where it all began: sitting cross-legged with a picture book at the Westside Head Start Center, just a few blocks from my childhood home in Jackson, Mississippi. 

    I don’t remember every detail from those early years, but I remember the feeling: I was happy at Head Start. I remember the books, the music, the joy. That five-minute bus ride from our house to the Westside Center turned out to be the shortest distance between potential and achievement. 

    And my story is not unique. Every year, hundreds of thousands of children — kids whose names we may never know, though our futures depend on them — walk through Head Start’s doors. Like me, they find structure, literacy, curiosity and belonging.  

    For many families, Head Start is the first place outside the home where a child’s potential is nurtured and celebrated. Yet, this program that builds futures and strengthens families is now under threat, and it’s imperative that we protect it. 

    Years later, while training for high school cross-country meets, I’d run past the park next to the center and pause, flooded with memories. Head Start laid the foundation for everything that followed. It gave me structure, sparked my curiosity and built my early literacy skills. It even fed my short-lived obsession with chocolate milk.  

    More than that, Head Start made me feel seen and valued. 

    Related: A lot goes on in classrooms from kindergarten to high school. Keep up with our free weekly newsletter on K-12 education. 

    There’s a clear, unbroken line between the early lessons I learned at Head Start and the doctoral dissertation I defended decades later. Head Start didn’t just teach me my ABCs — it taught me that learning could be joyful, that I was capable and that I belonged in a classroom.  

    That belief carried me through elementary school, Yale and George Washington University and to a Ph.D. in public policy and public administration. Now, as part of my research at the Urban Institute, I’m working to expand access to high-quality early learning, because I know firsthand what a difference it makes.  

    Research backs up what my story shows: Investments in Head Start and high-quality early childhood education change lives by improving health and educational achievement in later years, and benefit the economy. Yet today there is growing skepticism about the value of Head Start, reflecting an ongoing reluctance to give early childhood education the respect it deserves.  

    If Head Start funding is cut, thousands of children — especially from communities like mine in Jackson, where families worked hard but opportunities were limited — could lose access to a program that helps level the playing field. These are the children of young parents and single parents, of working families who may not have many other options but still dare to dream big for their kids.  

    And that is why I am worried. Funding for Head Start has been under threat. Although President Donald Trump’s proposed fiscal 2026 budget would maintain Head Start funding at its current $12.3 billion, Project 2025, the influential conservative policy document, calls for eliminating the program. The administration recently announced that Head Start would no longer enroll undocumented children, which a group of Democratic attorneys general say will force some programs to close.  

    Related: Head Start is in turmoil 

    I feel compelled to speak out because, for our family, Head Start wasn’t just a preschool — it was the beginning of everything. For me, it meant a future I never could have imagined. For my mother, Head Start meant peace of mind — knowing her son was in a nurturing, educational environment during the critical developmental years. My mother, Nicole, brought character, heart and an unwavering belief in my potential — and Head Start helped carry that forward. 

    My mother was just 18 when she enrolled me in Head Start. “A young mother with big dreams and limited resources,” she recounted to me recently, adding that she had “showed up to an open house with a baby in my arms and hope in my heart.” 

    Soon afterward, Mrs. Helen Robinson, who was in charge of the Head Start in Jackson, entered our lives. She visited our home regularly, bringing books, activities and reassurance. A little yellow school bus picked me up each morning. 

    Head Start didn’t just support me, though. It also supported my mother and gave her tips and confidence. She took me to the library regularly and made sure I was always surrounded by books and learning materials that would challenge and inspire me. 

    It helped my mother and countless others like her gain insight into child development, early learning and what it means to advocate for their children’s future.  

    Twenty-five years after those early mornings when I climbed onto the Head Start bus, we both still think about how different our lives might have been without that opportunity. Head Start stood beside us, and that support changed our lives. 

    As we debate national priorities, we must ask ourselves: Can we afford to dismantle a program that builds futures, strengthens families and delivers proven returns? 

    My family provides living proof of Head Start’s power.  

    This isn’t just our story. It is the story of millions of others and could be the story of millions more if we choose to protect and invest in what works. 

    Travis Reginal holds a doctorate in public policy and public administration and is a graduate of the Head Start program, Yale University and George Washington University. He is a former Urban Institute researcher. 

    Contact the opinion editor at [email protected]. 

    This story about the Head Start funding was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for Hechinger’s weekly newsletter. 

    The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.

    Join us today.

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  • The push to expand school choice should not diminish civic education

    The push to expand school choice should not diminish civic education

    From Texas to Florida to Arizona, school voucher policies are reshaping the landscape of American education. The Trump administration champions federal support for voucher expansion, and many state-level leaders are advancing school choice programs. Billions of public dollars are now flowing to private schools, church networks and microeducation platforms.  

    The push to expand school choice is not just reallocating public funds to private institutions. It is reorganizing the very purpose of schooling. And in that shift, something essential is being lost — the public mission of education as a foundation of democracy. 

    Civic education is becoming fragmented, underfunded and institutionally weak.  

    In this moment of sweeping change, as public dollars shift from common institutions to private and alternative schools, the shared civic entities that once supported democratic learning are being diminished or lost entirely — traditional structures like public schools, libraries and community colleges are no longer guaranteed common spaces. 

    The result is a disjointed system in which students may gain academic content or career preparation but receive little support in learning how to lead with integrity, think across differences or sustain democratic institutions. The very idea of public life is at risk, especially in places where shared experience has been replaced by polarization. We need civic education more than ever. 

    Related: A lot goes on in classrooms from kindergarten to high school. Keep up with our free weekly newsletter on K-12 education.  

    If we want students who can lead a multiracial democracy, we need schools of every type to take civic formation seriously. That includes religious schools, charter schools and homeschooling networks. The responsibility cannot fall on public schools alone. Civic formation is not an ideological project. It is a democratic one, involving the long-term work of building the skills, habits and values that prepare people to work across differences and take responsibility for shared democratic life. 

    What we need now is a civic education strategy that matches the scale of the changes reshaping American schooling. This will mean fostering coordinated investment, institutional partnerships and recognition that the stakes are not just academic, they are also democratic. 

    Americans overwhelmingly support civic instruction. According to a 2020 survey in Texas by the Center of Women in Politics and Public Policy and iCivics, just 49 percent of teachers statewide believed that enough time was being devoted to teaching civics knowledge, and just 23 percent said the same about participatory-democracy skills. This gap is not unique to Texas, but there is little agreement on how civics should be taught, and even less structural support for the schools trying to do it. 

    Without serious investment, civic formation will remain an afterthought — a patchwork effort disconnected from the design of most educational systems. 

    This is not an argument against vouchers in principle. Families should have options. But in the move to decentralize education, we risk hollowing out its civic core. A democratic society cannot survive on academic content alone. It requires citizens — not just in the legal sense, but in the civic one. 

    A democratic society needs people who can deliberate, organize, collaborate and build a shared future with others who do not think or live like they do. 

    And that’s why we are building a framework in Texas that others can adopt and adapt to their own civic mission. 

    The pioneering Democracy Schools model, to which I contribute, supports civic formation across a range of public and private schools, colleges, community organizations and professional networks.  

    Civic infrastructure is the term we use to describe our approach: the design of relationships, institutions and systems that hold democracy together. Just as engineers build physical infrastructure, educators and civic leaders must build civic infrastructure by working with communities, not for or on them. 

    We start from a democratic tradition rooted in the Black freedom struggle. Freedom, in this view, is not just protection from domination. It is the capacity to act, build and see oneself reflected in the world. This view of citizenship demands more than voice. It calls for the ability to shape institutions, policies and public narratives from the ground up. 

    Related: STUDENT VOICE: My generation knows less about civics than my parents’ generation did, yet we need it more than ever 

    The model speaks to a national crisis: the erosion of shared civic space in education. It must be practiced and must be supported by institutions that understand their role in building public life. Historically Black colleges and universities like Huston-Tillotson University offer a powerful example. They are not elite pipelines disconnected from everyday life. They are rooted in community, oriented toward public leadership and shaped by a history of democratic struggle. They show what it looks like to educate for civic capacity — not just for upward mobility. They remind us that education is not only about what students know, but about who they become and what kind of world they are prepared to help shape. 

    Our national future depends on how well we prepare young people to take responsibility for shared institutions and pluralistic public life. This cannot be accomplished through content standards alone. It requires civic ecosystems designed to cultivate public authorship. 

    We have an enormous stake in preparing the next generation for the demands of democratic life. What kind of society are we preparing young people to lead? The answer will not come from any single institution. It will come from partnerships across sectors, aligned in purpose even if diverse in approach. 

    We are eager to collaborate with any organization — public, private or faith-based — committed to building the civic infrastructure that sustains our democracy. Wherever education takes place, civic formation must remain a central concern. 

    Robert Ceresa is the founding director of the Politics Lab of the James L. Farmer House, Huston-Tillotson University. 

    Contact the opinion editor at [email protected].  

    This story about civic education was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for Hechinger’s weekly newsletter.

    The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.

    Join us today.

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  • How Charlie Kirk Changed Gen Z’s Politics – The 74

    How Charlie Kirk Changed Gen Z’s Politics – The 74


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    This analysis originally appeared at The Up and Up, a newsletter focused on youth culture and politics. 

    There’s been a massive effort to understand why Gen Z shifted right in the 2024 election. Part of that movement was thanks to Charlie Kirk and his work to engage young people — on and offline.

    Whether it was his college tours or the campus debate videos he brought to the forefront of social media, he changed the way young people think about, consume and engage in political discourse.

    Over the past few years, as I’ve conducted Gen Z listening sessions across the country, I’ve watched as freedom of speech has become a priority issue for young people, particularly on the right. The emphasis on that issue alone helped President Donald Trump make inroads with young voters in 2024, with Kirk as its biggest cheerleader. Just a few years ago, being a conservative was not welcomed on many liberal college campuses. That has changed.

    Even on campuses he never visited, Kirk, via his massive social media profile and the resonance of his videos online, was at the center of bringing MAGA to the mainstream. Scroll TikTok or Instagram with a right-leaning college student for five minutes, and you’re likely to see one of those debate-style videos pop into their feed. Since the news broke of the attack on his life last week, I’ve heard from many young leaders — both liberal and conservative — who are distraught and shook up. The reality is that Kirk changed the game for Gen Z political involvement. Even for those who disagreed with his politics, his focus on young voters inevitably shifted how young people were considered and included in the conversation.

    Like many of you, I’ve followed Kirk for years. Whether you aligned with his policy viewpoints or not, his influence on the conversation is undeniable. And, for young people, he was the face of the next generation for leadership in the conservative party.

    Kirk’s assassination was the latest in a string of political violence, including the political assassination in Minnesota that took the life of former House Speaker Melissa Hortman and her husband, and left state Sen. John Hoffman wounded. One of the most common fears I hear from young people across the country and the political spectrum is that political division has gone too far. Last week’s shooting also coincided with a tragic school shooting in Colorado. The grave irony of all these forces coinciding — gun violence, political violence and campus violence — cannot be ignored.

    In all my conversations with young people, one thing is clear: they are scared.

    Gen Z perspectives 

    After Wednesday’s tragedy, I reached out to students and young people I’ve met through listening sessions with The Up and Up, as well as leaders of youth organizations that veer right of center. Others reached out via social media to comment. Here’s some of what they shared.

    California college student Lucy Cox: “He was the leader of the Republican Party and the conservative movement right now especially for young people. He’s probably more famous than Trump for college students. He had divisive politics, but he never went about it in a divisive way. He’s been a part of my college experience for as long as I’ve been here. He felt like somebody I knew. His personality was so pervasive. It feels very odd that I’m never going to watch a new Charlie Kirk video again.”

    Jesse Wilson, a 30-year-old in Missouri: “From the first time I saw him, it was on the ‘Whatever’ podcast, I’ve watched that for a long long long time. Just immediately, the way he carried himself and respected the people he was talking to regardless of who they were, their walk of life, how they treated him. Immediately I just thought, ‘Man, there’s just something different about him.’ He was willing to engage. It was the care, he didn’t want to just shut somebody down. He was like, ‘These are my points, and this is what I’m about,’ and it seemed like there was a willingness to engage and meet people where they’re at. I found it really heartwarming. And we need it. That’s what’s going to make a difference.”

    Ebo Entsuah, a 31-year-old from Florida: “Charlie had a reach most political influencers couldn’t even imagine. I didn’t agree with him on a number of things, but there’s no mistaking that he held the ear of an entire generation. When someone like that is taken from the world, the impact multiplies.”

    Danielle Butcher Franz, CEO of The American Conservation Coalition: “Charlie changed my life. The first time I ever went to D.C. was because of him. He invited me to join TPUSA at CPAC so I bought a flight and skipped class. When we finally met in person he grinned and said, ‘Are you Republican Sass?’ (My Twitter at the time) and gave me a big thumbs-up. I owe so much of my career to him. Most of my closest friends came into my life through him or at his events. Because of Charlie, I met my husband. We worked with him back when TPUSA was still run out of a garage. Charlie’s early support helped ACC grow when no one else took us seriously. He welcomed me with open arms to speak at one of his conferences to 300+ young people when ACC was barely weeks old. I keep looking around me and thinking about how none of it would be here if I hadn’t met Charlie.”

    A 26-year-old woman who asked to remain anonymous: “I would be naive to not admit that my career trajectory and path would not have been possible without Charlie Kirk. He forged a path in making a career with steadfast opinions, engaging with a generation that had never been so open-minded and free, slanting their politics the exact opposite of his own. He made politics accessible. He made conservatism accessible. But damn, he made CIVICS accessible. He dared us to engage. To take the bait. To react. He was controversial because he was good at what he was doing. Good at articulating his beliefs with such conviction to dare the other side to express. He died engaging with the other side. In good or bad faith is one’s own to decide, but he was engaging. In a time where the polarization is never more clear. So I will continue to dare to engage with those I agree and those I disagree with. But it’s heartbreaking. It feels like we’ve lost any common belonging. There has not been an event in modern political history that has impacted me this much. Maybe it hits too close to home.”

    Disillusioned by a divided America 

    Over the summer, I wrote about Gen Z’s sinking American pride. Of all generations, according to Gallup data, Gen Z’s American pride is the lowest, at just 41%. At the time, I wrote that this is not just about the constant chaos which has become so normalized for our generation. It’s more than that. It’s a complete disillusionment with U.S. politics for a generation that has grown up amid hyperpolarization and a scathing political climate. What happened last week adds a whole layer.

    Beyond the shooting, there is the way in which this unfolded online. There’s a legitimate conversation to be had about people’s reactions to Kirk’s death and an unwillingness to condemn violence.

    As a 19-year-old college student told me: “This reveals a big problem that I see with a lot of members in Gen Z — that they tend to see things in black and white and fail to realize that several things can be true at once.”

    There’s also the need for a discussion about the speed at which the incredibly graphic video of violence circulated — and the fact that it is now seared into the minds of the many, many young people who watched it.

    We live in a country where gun violence is pervasive. When we zoom out and look toward the future, there are inevitable consequences of this carnage.

    Since The Up and Up started holding listening sessions in fall 2022, young people have shared that civil discourse and political violence are two of their primary concerns. One of the most telling trends are the responses to two of our most frequently asked questions: “What is your biggest fear for the country, and what is your biggest hope for the country?” 

    Consistently, the fear has something to do with violence and division, while the hope is unity.

    I think we all could learn from the shared statement issued by the Young Democrats and Young Republicans of Connecticut before Trump announced Kirk’s death, in which they came together to “reject all forms of political violence” in a way we rarely, if ever, see elected officials do.


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  • From ‘Bring It On’ to ‘This Policy Is Crazy,’ NYC Parents React to Cellphone Ban – The 74

    From ‘Bring It On’ to ‘This Policy Is Crazy,’ NYC Parents React to Cellphone Ban – The 74

    One year after I reported on New York City parents’ reactions to a proposed ban on cellphones in the classroom, students and teachers have returned to schools with that ban in place. 

    When I asked families on my 4,000-plus-member NYC School Secrets mailing list how they felt about the new restriction, I received answers ranging from enthusiasm to concern. 

    “Phones and smartwatches in classrooms and school hallways are more than just a distraction — they’re a barrier to learning, focus and social development,” according to Manhattan’s Arwynn H.J. 

    “Bring on the ban,” cheered Bronx parent and teacher Jackie Marashlian. “My high school students were ready to air-scroll me toward the ceiling with their fingers, so bored with whatever it was I was trying to impart to them. One day we had a WiFi glitch and I saw my students’ beautiful eyes for the very first time. Bring kids back to face-to-face interaction and socializing during lunch breaks.” 

    “As a middle school teacher in the Bronx and parent of an eighth grader, I think the cellphone ban is fantastic,” agreed Debra. “While my son is ‘devastated’ he can’t have his phone, it scares me that he’s said he doesn’t know what to do at lunch/recess without a phone. Kids have become so reliant on technology, even when they are with their peers, that often they are not really WITH their peers; they are all just staring at their phones. I hope the cellphone ban leads more students to be both physically and mentally present.”

    For mom Elaine Daly, the phone ban affects her more than her special-needs daughter. “My child is 11 and knows she is not to use the phone in school. My parental controls blocks, locks and limits access. But I need her phone to be on so I can also track her, since the NYCSchools bus app always says: Driver offline.”

    Jen C., who reported the ban has been going well with her child in elementary school, sees a bigger issue for her high school-age son. “He has homework online and likes to get started during his free periods. However, he’s not allowed to use his laptop, and there are not enough school issued laptops. I feel that teachers should give off-line work, or the school needs to give access to laptops.”

    Parents of older students were the ones most likely to be against the blanket edict.

    “You can’t have the same policy for kids 6 years old and for 17 years old,” mom Pilar Ruiz Cobo raged. “This policy is crazy for seniors. Yesterday, my daughter had her first college adviser class, and only five kids could work because the rest didn’t remember their passwords to Naviance and the Common App. The verification code was sent only to their phones. Children who don’t study, don’t study with and without phones, now the children who actually work have to work double at home.”

    A Queens mom pinpointed another problem. “Many high school students leave the premises for lunch, and my son’s school is one of those. He said they’re not allowed to take their phones. Children need to use phones outside of school for various reasons; to use phone pay, to contact their parents for lunch money or any updates, etc…”

    The policy varies from school to school. At some, students are allowed to request their phones back when temporarily leaving the premises. However, the larger the school, the less likely it is to have enough staff to handle such exchanges.

    “An interesting aspect of this policy is that although it was presented as a smartphone ban, it’s actually much more expansive, including tablets and laptops,” pointed out dad Adam C. “This presents a challenge for high school students who rely on laptops for receiving, completing and submitting assignments through Google Classroom.”

    “They say parents have to provide their own laptop pouch (there are none similar to Yonder), and they can’t store laptops in backpacks,” confirmed Queens mom Y.N. “My son has afterschool sports activities and likes to do his homework on his laptop in between. I think he’ll have to take it with him and hope they don’t confiscate.”

    “While I’m not opposed to keeping students off platforms like Snapchat during school hours,” Adam continued, “They should be able to connect a laptop to a school-managed Wi-Fi network for school-related purposes, and the current policy doesn’t provide the schools with much leeway around this.”

    But Y.N. doesn’t believe that’s accurate. “I already voiced my concern to the Student Leadership Team (SLT). At the Panel for Education Policy, they said these rules are fluid. Because the regulations came after the SLTs were done for the year, the chancellor said they should be able to change them. She said a plan had to be made before Day One, but it doesn’t mean that adjustments can’t be made at the school level. ‘Tinkering’ was the word they kept using.”

    If that’s the case, perhaps NYC can pull back from its traditional one-size-fits-all approach and allow individual schools to “tinker” and set limitations based on the needs and feedback of their community, adjusting policy based on grade level, academic requirements and a multitude of other factors.


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  • Not Just a Legacy but a Mandate: What the Life of Dr. Earl S. Richardson Demands of Us

    Not Just a Legacy but a Mandate: What the Life of Dr. Earl S. Richardson Demands of Us

    The passing of Dr. Earl S. Richardson is not only a moment for reflection. It is a call to responsibility. For scholars of higher education and leaders at historically Black colleges and universities, his legacy must not be confined to warm memories or ceremonial praise. His life’s work demands more than tribute. It demands action. It demands accountability. It demands that we ask ourselves, urgently and honestly, whether we are doing enough to build upon the foundation he laid.

    Dr. Adriel A. HiltonDr. Richardson served as the ninth president of Morgan State University from 1984 to 2010. Under his leadership, Morgan did not simply grow. It transformed. It rose to become a national leader in graduating African American students in science, technology, engineering and mathematics. It expanded its infrastructure, enhanced its academic reputation and centered student success in every strategic decision. Dr. Richardson did not wait for others to validate his vision. He led with clarity, conviction and courage. 

    He was a master builder in every sense of the term. He saw potential where others saw limits. He saw the value of HBCUs not as a second option but as essential to the American higher education ecosystem. His leadership challenged a state system that had long underfunded and undervalued Black institutions. His efforts helped bring national attention to Maryland’s long-standing inequities in higher education funding and set in motion the legal battles and policy changes that continue to shape the landscape today. 

    What made Dr. Richardson different was that he understood the stakes. For him, education was not abstract. It was urgent. It was necessary. It was justice. He never forgot the students who came from under-resourced communities. He never stopped believing in the transformative power of institutions that were built by and for Black people. He knew that when HBCUs thrive, entire communities thrive. And he gave everything he had to make sure that happened.

    Years ago, I was invited by Chancellor James T. Minor to introduce Dr. Richardson at a gathering of HBCU leaders in Atlanta. It was a moment I will never forget. After the formalities, he pulled me aside, embraced me and spoke just three words: “Hilton, continue on.” I have carried those words with me ever since. They were not just encouragement. They were instruction. And now, in the wake of his passing, they are challenge and charge.

    To those of us who study higher education, we must be more than chroniclers of injustice. We must be architects of equity. It is not enough to publish about access. We must dismantle the structures that deny it. It is not enough to measure disparities. We must eradicate them. Dr. Richardson did not write about transformation. He led it. His career reminds us that research must inform action and that theory must be in service to the students whose lives hang in the balance.

    To leaders of our HBCUs, I say this as a researcher and as someone who deeply respects the weight of your responsibility. Dr. Richardson raised the standard. It is ours to meet and exceed. If we claim to honor his legacy, then we cannot be satisfied with survival. We must pursue excellence with purpose and with boldness. We must ask difficult questions. Are we growing in ways that reflect our mission? Are we advocating with full voice for the resources our institutions deserve? Are we leading with vision or simply managing with caution? 

    Our students do not need caretakers of tradition. They need disruptors of inequality. They need leaders who will challenge broken systems, fight for full funding, and refuse to accept a future that mirrors the past. They need us to be as courageous as Dr. Richardson was and as committed as he remained throughout his life.

    Dr. Richardson believed in leading with love. Love for students. Love for community. Love for institutions that have long stood as beacons of opportunity against overwhelming odds. But love, as he modeled it, was not passive. It was active. It was strategic. It was unapologetic. It was the kind of love that demands more, not less. That refuses to compromise when the stakes are too high. That knows the fight for educational equity is not about charity but about justice. 

    Let us be clear. Dr. Richardson’s story is not one of ease. It is one of struggle, persistence and vision. He faced resistance. He faced doubt. But he pressed on. And in doing so, he created new possibilities for generations of students who might otherwise have been left behind.

    If we are to honor him now, we must take up his mantle with urgency. We must refuse to be complicit in systems that marginalize Black institutions. We must lead in ways that are bold, strategic and student centered. We must act with the same clarity and commitment that defined his presidency.

    Dr. Richardson did not just leave a legacy. He left a blueprint. The question is whether we will follow it. 

    We thank you, Dr. Richardson. We mourn your passing, but more than that, we commit ourselves to your example. We will remember your words. We will continue on.

    And we will do so with purpose.

    ________

    Dr. Adriel A. Hilton (a proud graduate of three Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs), is a passionate advocate for the power and promise of HBCUs. Now a resident of Chicago, Illinois, he brings his deep commitment to educational excellence to his new role as Vice President of Institutional Strategy and Chief of Staff at Columbia College Chicago.

     

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  • English Teachers Work to Instill the Joy of Reading. Testing Gets in the Way – The 74

    English Teachers Work to Instill the Joy of Reading. Testing Gets in the Way – The 74


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    A new national study shows that Americans’ rates of reading for pleasure have declined radically over the first quarter of this century and that recreational reading can be linked to school achievement, career compensation and growth, civic engagement, and health. Learning how to enjoy reading – not literacy proficiency – isn’t just for hobbyists, it’s a necessary life skill. 

    But the conditions under which English teachers work are detrimental to the cause – and while book bans are in the news, the top-down pressure to measure up on test scores is a more pervasive, more longstanding culprit. Last year, we asked high school English teachers to describe their literature curriculum in a national questionnaire we plan to publish soon. From responses representing 48 states, we heard a lot of the following: “soul-deadening”; “only that which students will see on the test” and “too [determined] by test scores.”

    These sentiments certainly aren’t new. In a similar questionnaire distributed in 1911, teachers described English class as “deadening,” focused on “memory instead of thinking,” and demanding “cramming for examination.” 

    Teaching to the test is as old as English itself – as a secondary school subject, that is. Teachers have questioned the premise for just as long because too many have experienced a radical disconnect between how they are asked or required to teach and the pleasure that reading brings them.

    High school English was first established as a test-driven subject around the turn of the 20th Century. Even at a time when relatively few Americans attended college, English class was oriented around building students’ mastery of now-obscure literary works that they would encounter on the College Entrance Exam. 

    The development of the Scholastic Aptitude Test in 1926 and the growth of standardized testing since No Child Left Behind have only solidified what was always true: As much as we think of reading as a social, cultural, even “spiritual” experience, English class has been shaped by credential culture.

    Throughout, many teachers felt that preparing students for college was too limited a goal; their mission was to prepare students for life. They believed that studying literature was an invaluable source of social and emotional development, preparing adolescents for adulthood and for citizenship. It provided them with “vicarious experience”: Through reading, young people saw other points of view, worked through challenging problems, and grappled with complex issues. 

    Indeed, a national study conducted in 1933 asked teachers to rank their “aims” in literature instruction. They listed “vicarious experience” first, “preparation for college” last.

    The results might not look that different today. Ask an English teacher what brought her to the profession, and a love of reading is likely to top the list. What is different today is the  unmatched pressure to prepare students for a constant cycle of state and national examinations and for college credentialing. 

    Increasingly, English teachers are compelled to use online curriculum packages that mimic the examinations themselves, composed largely of excerpts from literary and “informational” texts instead of the whole books that were more the norm in previous generations. “Vicarious experience” has less purchase in contemporary academic standards than ever. 

    Credentialing, however, does not equal preparing. Very few higher education skills map neatly onto standardized exams, especially in the humanities. As English professors, we can tell you that an enjoyment of reading – not just a toleration of it – is a key academic capacity. It produces better writers, more creative thinkers, and students less likely to need AI to express their ideas effectively.

    Yet we haven’t given K-12 teachers the structure or freedom to treat reading enjoyment as a skill. The data from our national survey suggests that English teachers and their students find the system deflating. 

     “Our district adopted a disjointed, excerpt-heavy curriculum two years ago,” a Washington teacher shared, “and it is doing real damage to students’ interest in reading.” 

    From Tennessee, a teacher added: “I understand there are state guidelines and protocols, but it seems as if we are teaching the children from a script. They are willing to be more engaged and can have a better understanding when we can teach them things that are relatable to them.”

    And from Oregon, another tells us that because “state testing is strictly excerpts,” the district initially discouraged “teaching whole novels.”  It changed course only after students’ exam scores improved. 

    Withholding books from students is especially inhumane when we consider that the best tool for improved academic performance is engagement – students learn more when they become engrossed in stories. Yet by the time they graduate from high school, many students  master test-taking skills but lose the window for learning to enjoy reading.

    Teachers tell us that the problem is not attitudinal but structural. An education technocracy that consists of test making agencies, curriculum providers, and policy makers is squeezing out enjoyment, teacher autonomy and student agency. 

    To reverse this trend, we must consider what reading experiences we are providing our students. Instead of the self-defeating cycle of test-preparation and testing, we should take courage, loosen the grip on standardization, and let teachers recreate the sort of experiences with literature that once made us, and them, into readers.


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  • If we are going to build AI literacy into every level of learning, we must be able to measure it

    If we are going to build AI literacy into every level of learning, we must be able to measure it

    Everywhere you look, someone is telling students and workers to “learn AI.” 

    It’s become the go-to advice for staying employable, relevant and prepared for the future. But here’s the problem: While definitions of artificial intelligence literacy are starting to emerge, we still lack a consistent, measurable framework to know whether someone is truly ready to use AI effectively and responsibly. 

    And that is becoming a serious issue for education and workforce systems already being reshaped by AI. Schools and colleges are redesigning their entire curriculums. Companies are rewriting job descriptions. States are launching AI-focused initiatives.  

    Yet we’re missing a foundational step: agreeing not only on what we mean by AI literacy, but on how we assess it in practice. 

    Two major recent developments underscore why this step matters, and why it is important that we find a way to take it before urging students to use AI. First, the U.S. Department of Education released its proposed priorities for advancing AI in education, guidance that will ultimately shape how federal grants will support K-12 and higher education. For the first time, we now have a proposed federal definition of AI literacy: the technical knowledge, durable skills and future-ready attitudes required to thrive in a world influenced by AI. Such literacy will enable learners to engage and create with, manage and design AI, while critically evaluating its benefits, risks and implications. 

    Second, we now have the White House’s American AI Action Plan, a broader national strategy aimed at strengthening the country’s leadership in artificial intelligence. Education and workforce development are central to the plan. 

    Related: A lot goes on in classrooms from kindergarten to high school. Keep up with our free weekly newsletter on K-12 education. 

    What both efforts share is a recognition that AI is not just a technological shift, it’s a human one. In many ways, the most important AI literacy skills are not about AI itself, but about the human capacities needed to use AI wisely. 

    Sadly, the consequences of shallow AI education are already visible in workplaces. Some 55 percent of managers believe their employees are AI-proficient, while only 43 percent of employees share that confidence, according to the 2025 ETS Human Progress Report.  

    One can say that the same perception gap exists between school administrators and teachers. The disconnect creates risks for organizations and reveals how assumptions about AI literacy can diverge sharply from reality. 

    But if we’re going to build AI literacy into every level of learning, we have to ask the harder question: How do we both determine when someone is truly AI literate and assess it in ways that are fair, useful and scalable? 

    AI literacy may be new, but we don’t have to start from scratch to measure it. We’ve tackled challenges like this before, moving beyond check-the-box tests in digital literacy to capture deeper, real-world skills. Building on those lessons will help define and measure this next evolution of 21st-century skills. 

    Right now, we often treat AI literacy as a binary: You either “have it” or you don’t. But real AI literacy and readiness is more nuanced. It includes understanding how AI works, being able to use it effectively in real-world settings and knowing when to trust it. It includes writing effective prompts, spotting bias, asking hard questions and applying judgment. 

    This isn’t just about teaching coding or issuing a certificate. It’s about making sure that students, educators and workers can collaborate in and navigate a world in which AI is increasingly involved in how we learn, hire, communicate and make decisions.  

    Without a way to measure AI literacy, we can’t identify who needs support. We can’t track progress. And we risk letting a new kind of unfairness take root, in which some communities build real capacity with AI and others are left with shallow exposure and no feedback. 

    Related: To employers, AI skills aren’t just for tech majors anymore 

    What can education leaders do right now to address this issue? I have a few ideas.  

    First, we need a working definition of AI literacy that goes beyond tool usage. The Department of Education’s proposed definition is a good start, combining technical fluency, applied reasoning and ethical awareness.  

    Second, assessments of AI literacy should be integrated into curriculum design. Schools and colleges incorporating AI into coursework need clear definitions of proficiency. TeachAI’s AI Literacy Framework for Primary and Secondary Education is a great resource. 

    Third, AI proficiency must be defined and measured consistently, or we risk a mismatched state of literacy. Without consistent measurements and standards, one district may see AI literacy as just using ChatGPT, while another defines it far more broadly, leaving students unevenly ready for the next generation of jobs. 

    To prepare for an AI-driven future, defining and measuring AI literacy must be a priority. Every student will be graduating into a world in which AI literacy is essential. Human resources leaders confirmed in the 2025 ETS Human Progress Report that the No. 1 skill employers are demanding today is AI literacy. Without measurement, we risk building the future on assumptions, not readiness.  

    And that’s too shaky a foundation for the stakes ahead. 

    Amit Sevak is CEO of ETS, the largest private educational assessment organization in the world. 

    Contact the opinion editor at [email protected]. 

    This story about AI literacy was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for Hechinger’s weekly newsletter. 

    The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.

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  • AI can be a great equalizer, but it remains out of reach for millions of Americans; the Universal Service Fund can expand access

    AI can be a great equalizer, but it remains out of reach for millions of Americans; the Universal Service Fund can expand access

    In an age defined by digital transformation, access to reliable, high-speed internet is not a luxury; it is the bedrock of opportunity. It impacts the school classroom, the doctor’s office, the town square and the job market.

    As we stand on the cusp of a workforce revolution driven by the “arrival technology” of artificial intelligence, high-speed internet access has become the critical determinant of our nation’s economic future. Yet, for millions of Americans, this essential connection remains out of reach.

    This digital divide is a persistent crisis that deepens societal inequities, and we must rally around one of the most effective tools we have to combat it: the Universal Service Fund. The USF is a long-standing national commitment built on a foundation of bipartisan support and born from the principle that every American, regardless of their location or income, deserves access to communications services.

    Without this essential program, over 54 million students, 16,000 healthcare providers and 7.5 million high-need subscribers would lose internet service that connects classrooms, rural communities (including their hospitals) and libraries to the internet.

    Related: A lot goes on in classrooms from kindergarten to high school. Keep up with our free weekly newsletter on K-12 education.

    The discussion about the future of USF has reached a critical juncture: Which communities will have access to USF, how it will be funded and whether equitable access to connectivity will continue to be a priority will soon be decided.

    Earlier this year, the Supreme Court found the USF’s infrastructure to be constitutional — and a backbone for access and opportunity in this country. Congress recently took a significant next step by relaunching a bicameral, bipartisan working group devoted to overhauling the fund. Now they are actively seeking input from stakeholders on how to best modernize this vital program for the future, and they need our input.

    I’m urging everyone who cares about digital equity to make their voices heard. The window for our input in support of this vital connectivity infrastructure is open through September 15.

    While Universal Service may appear as only a small fee on our monthly phone bills, its impact is monumental. The fund powers critical programs that form a lifeline for our nation’s most vital institutions and vulnerable populations. The USF helps thousands of schools and libraries obtain affordable internet — including the school I founded in downtown Brooklyn. For students in rural towns, the E-Rate program, funded by the USF, allows access to the same online educational resources as those available to students in major cities. In schools all over the country, the USF helps foster digital literacy, supports coding clubs and enables students to complete homework online.

    By wiring our classrooms and libraries, we are investing in the next generation of innovators.

    The coming waves of technological change — including the widespread adoption of AI — threaten to make the digital divide an unbridgeable economic chasm. Those on the wrong side of this divide experienced profound disadvantages during the pandemic. To get connected, students at my school ended up doing homework in fast-food parking lots. Entire communities lost vital connections to knowledge and opportunity when libraries closed.

    But that was just a preview of the digital struggle. This time, we have to fight to protect the future of this investment in our nation’s vital infrastructure to ensure that the rising wave of AI jobs, opportunities and tools is accessible to all.

    AI is rapidly becoming a fundamental tool for the American workforce and in the classroom. AI tools require robust bandwidth to process data, connect to cloud platforms and function effectively.

    The student of tomorrow will rely on AI as a personalized tutor that enhances teacher-led classroom instruction, explains complex concepts and supports their homework. AI will also power the future of work for farmers, mechanics and engineers.

    Related: Getting kids online by making internet affordable

    Without access to AI, entire communities and segments of the workforce will be locked out. We will create a new class of “AI have-nots,” unable to leverage the technology designed to propel our economy forward.

    The ability to participate in this new economy, to upskill and reskill for the jobs of tomorrow, is entirely dependent on the one thing the USF is designed to provide: reliable connectivity.

    The USF is also critical for rural health care by supporting providers’ internet access and making telehealth available in many communities. It makes internet service affordable for low-income households through its Lifeline program and the Connect America Fund, which promotes the construction of broadband infrastructure in rural areas.

    The USF is more than a funding mechanism; it is a statement of our values and a strategic economic necessity. It reflects our collective agreement that a child’s future shouldn’t be limited by their school’s internet connection, that a patient’s health outcome shouldn’t depend on their zip code and that every American worker deserves the ability to harness new technology for their career.

    With Congress actively debating the future of the fund, now is the time to rally. We must engage in this process, call on our policymakers to champion a modernized and sustainably funded USF and recognize it not as a cost, but as an essential investment in a prosperous, competitive and flourishing America.

    Erin Mote is the CEO and founder of InnovateEDU, a nonprofit that aims to catalyze education transformation by bridging gaps in data, policy, practice and research.

    Contact the opinion editor at [email protected].

    This story about the Universal Service Fund was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for Hechinger’s weekly newsletter.

    The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.

    Join us today.

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