Last December, after a year and a half of blind alleys, impenetrable paperwork and bureaucratic stonewalling, it seemed like the complaints Sierra Rios had filed against her fifth-grader’s elementary school were finally getting a proper investigation. A lawyer in the Dallas office of the U.S. Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights was asking hard questions of the school where Rios said her daughter, Nevaeh, was repeatedly denied special education services. 

But then, a few weeks into the probe, the San Antonio mother got a bounce-back email informing her that the attorney working on her case was no longer employed by the agency. As part of its plan to shutter the department, the Trump administration had fired 40% of the civil rights division’s staff and closed half of its regional offices. 

The March email did not say what would happen to Rios’ case. In May, she got a message asking for a form that had somehow not been transferred from Texas to the agency’s office in Kansas City, Missouri. Rios re-sent the document, but it no longer mattered. During the churn, she was told, the complaint had become too old to pursue. 

The saga is a vivid illustration of the awaits families of students with disabilities. For decades, the federal government has been a key avenue of relief for parents unable to get services for their children through complaints filed with their state, mediation, administrative hearings or due process cases. Now, with the department lurching toward closure, state-level officials may increasingly have the final word. And a 74 analysis shows that those systems, intended to help desperate parents like Rios, have never delivered on their promise. 

A ‘parent-friendly’ process that’s anything but simple 

Fifty years ago, under the Individuals with Disabilities in Education Act, Congress created three ways parents could appeal to their state education departments if they felt their children were being denied accommodations in school. These mechanisms vary in complexity and effectiveness, but all were supposed to be simple enough for any parent to navigate. 

Families, or school administrators seeking help in resolving a disagreement, can file a complaint with their state in hopes that education officials will intervene if they find a district’s efforts lacking or improper. Parents can also ask the state to appoint a mediator who will try to bring both sides to an agreement. Most complicated, but potentially most effective, families can file a due process complaint, which kicks off a legal process that usually requires an attorney or skilled advocate. The complaint may start with a mediator but can progress to a formal hearing before an administrative law judge. If the dispute isn’t resolved there, the case can turn into a federal lawsuit.   

Some states pursue complaints quickly, with an eye toward resolving issues before they become intensely adversarial and expensive. Others lag or throw up procedural roadblocks, presumably trying to reduce the number of cases filed. 

Complaints can run aground at . The length of time a family has to file after the event they’re disputing differs depending on where they live and which mechanism they’re trying to use. If an email or letter doesn’t get a reply within a certain number of days, the case can be closed. Things must be done in a precise order, spelled out in legalese. 

In Rios’ case, she initially tried to open a state complaint against the principal of Nevaeh’s school in 2023. The Texas Education Agency rejected her request in a letter that she read as saying complaints cannot be filed against individuals, just schools and districts. (The agency says complaints can be filed against individuals.)

Rios assumed her complaint was dead in the water. A year later, with Nevaeh’s situation deteriorating as school staff, Rios says, grew tired of the family’s continued complaints, she did more research and opened a case at the Office for Civil Rights under the Americans with Disabilities Act.Ěý

The law that created the state complaint processes, the IDEA, guarantees disabled students’ educational rights. By contrast, the ADA, passed in 1990, outlaws discrimination against people who need accommodations to access public facilities and programs — including schools. 

Families of children denied special education services can assert their rights under either law. When states fail to enforce a student’s educational rights under IDEA, families often file a discrimination complaint via the ADA.

In the 2022-23 school year, more than 54,000 state were filed in the U.S. and its territories, including due process complaints, written state complaints and mediation requests. The Office for Civil Rights had — half of them involving disability discrimination — when its staff was . For fiscal year 2026, which started July 1, the White House’s proposed OCR budget is $91 million, a 35% drop. 

At the same time, the administration wants to move $33 million that currently funds state advocacy clearinghouses into block grants that states — cash-strapped as their federal pandemic funds run out — can use for other things. This means families risk losing a second source of leverage: free assistance from experts.

If enacted, both budget cuts would also exacerbate socioeconomic and racial disparities in the services kids with disabilities receive, says Carrie Gillispie, a senior policy analyst at New America. This is because families in states where there’s little appetite for local enforcement depend on OCR to investigate discrimination.

“Those discrepancies that exist if these budget changes happen,” Gillispie says. “It’s a choice to continue to underinvest.”            

With the federal office a hollow shell of what it was six months ago, advocates say, families are likely to rely more heavily on their states. And how — and how well — each state helps students with disabilities varies widely. 

In fact, our analysis found great geographic disparities in the kinds of appeals families pursue and how far they make it in the multi-step processes. In the few places that have more than a handful of special education lawyers, primarily on the East and West coasts, due process cases often dominate. In the Midwest, where there are few or even no special ed attorneys or advocates, families must go it alone, and public officials frequently put up roadblocks to impede complaints parents file with their states. Here, there are fewer disputes — likely because parents often depend on schools to apprise them of their rights — and complaints are less likely to end in a written agreement. 

Rate of due process complaints per 10,000 children receiving special education services

Rate of due process complaints per 10,000 children receiving special education services for each state from 2014-15 to 2021-22 and how it compares with the national average. Hover over each state to see the year-by-year breakdown. Source: U.S. Department of Education Office of Special Education Programs (Eamonn Fitzmaurice)

Information collected by the U.S. Education Department does not record whether outcomes are favorable for students. But attorneys and advocates say that for those who have access to expert help — either for a fee or pro bono, through an advocacy group — a due process complaint can yield a quick settlement from a district looking to end a family’s case and move on. 

Using state data submitted to the department from the 2014-15 academic year through 2022-23, the most recent available, we created the interactive map above showing how many cases are filed in each state and how they compare with the national average. To account for population differences, we have tabulated the rate of due process complaints per 10,000 children identified as qualifying for special education services in each state. 

In addition to national averages, we focused on four localities  — California, Texas, Nebraska and the District of Columbia — that illustrate different approaches to resolving disputes and how far in the process they proceed, and included an interactive chart for each.  

The process was , and to allow parents and schools to start with the least contentious, simplest and most inexpensive options. With some exceptions, a family can begin by filing a written state complaint or by requesting mediation, and, if no agreement is reached, open a due process case later on. If one side disagrees with the decision in a due process hearing, it can file a federal suit. In some circumstances, the losing party will be ordered to reimburse the other side’s attorney fees. 

In our analysis, we have excluded two statistical outliers: New York, where, because of a tangled legal history, two-thirds of recent complaints in the U.S. were filed; and Puerto Rico, where students are protected by federal law but the special education system is unique.

Finally, we look at trends in Texas, where advocates are cautiously optimistic that a decade-old federal intervention has nudged the process closer to Congress’ original vision. Advocates say changes made by Texas officials are getting families what they need faster, and with less red tape, all with an eye to heading off the most contentious options.     

Barring similar efforts by districts and state education officials to help families before disagreements become adversarial, advocates predict the system will become more litigious. By definition, that will make it more expensive for everyone involved, as districts and families are forced to spend money on attorneys and experts instead of the services children need. In June, the U.S. Supreme Court issued a decision making it easier for families to file federal discrimination suits. 

The upshot, advocates say, could be an even more inequitable playing field, where families with access to attorneys and the ability to pay them have leverage and those who don’t are at the mercy of their states’ willingness to enforce their rights.    

Each process for resolving special education disagreements comes with major trade-offs — which are typically unclear for families trying to figure out where to start. 

A written state complaint is usually the easiest route for a parent going it alone. It’s free. The information needed to start is comparatively straightforward. The law requires states to finish investigations within 60 days, which is months or years faster than the alternatives. 

If, at any point, a parent and district come to an agreement, they can simply stop the process. If the state probe goes forward, a finding is issued. published in 2018 in the Journal of Special Education Leadership, district leaders surveyed the year before said 62% of state investigations that played all the way out concluded that a district was not compliant with the law. 

Caveats abound, however. In many places, state complaints can’t be appealed. A mediator or state investigator can determine that a student is owed compensatory services — academic or therapeutic time to make up for interventions they were improperly denied or money to pay for private services. But in practice, they rarely result in financial compensation for a student’s family. 

Though these agreements are often supposed to be legally binding, they don’t always carry the weight of a legal judgment, so schools can feel little pressure to make meaningful changes.

Finally, in order to get what their child was denied, families often must sign a non-disclosure agreement. This makes it hard for parents to compare notes about what services are available from their school and what they can reasonably ask for.  

In , families told the Council of Parent Attorneys and Advocates — a network of state and local professionals partly funded by IDEA — that the corrective actions called for in state findings are often inadequate and ignored by schools, with no state follow-up to ensure compliance. Parents also complained that state investigators are sometimes quicker to believe districts’ stories than families’, even in the absence of evidence. Mediators may fail to help parents and schools reach an agreement.      

By contrast, filing a due process complaint is not unlike filing a lawsuit. Indeed, if a disagreement isn’t resolved at a negotiation called a resolution meeting or by a mediator, an administrative law judge takes testimony, considers evidence and issues a ruling. If that does not end the dispute, either party may — provided it has the resources — continue the case in federal court.

But parents often don’t have the money to hire an attorney or advocate to take the case. Some states have just one lawyer who will accept special education cases. In part, this is because a family must win to have just its attorney’s fees covered. In addition, in most instances, plaintiffs can’t hire experts to counter testimony given by district witnesses.   

Until recently, anyway, lodging a complaint with the OCR instead of the state was often parents’ most attractive option.

Families in rural areas rely on state complaints for solutions 

In many rural states, such as Nebraska, families rely on written state complaints when their kids’ needs aren’t being met. Dispute resolution filings are rare because advocates and attorneys are few and far between, and the number of due process cases is low.

State complaints are supposed to be the fast, easy, least costly and least adversarial path to getting kids services without the expenses of hiring an attorney. But outcomes are often poor. 

“They are especially good for clear procedural violations that may impact the student,” says Amy Bonn, an Omaha-area attorney. “It’s basically saying, ‘Here’s where the district did something that did not comport with the actual law.’ ”

When IDEA was created, Congress envisioned the state complaint system to be the “most powerful and accessible option for parents,” but it often falls short in resolving noncompliance issues, according to a from the Council of Parent Attorneys and Advocates. 

The organization stated in its that the system is “an often ineffective process that lacks transparency, impartiality and accountability by state educational agencies charged with administering the dispute resolution process.”

Once a complaint is filed, the investigation is in the state’s hands — and out of the parents’. Any decisions, including corrective actions, are made by the state within a 60-day timeline, and they usually can’t be appealed. 

“[Families] might get relief or they might not, but there are no judges or a hearing,” says Kathy Zeisel of the Children’s Law Center, an agency that takes cases and connects families with pro bono lawyers to file complaints. “You get systemic change, such as a district having to change policies,” instead of an accommodation to help a particular student.

But debates between families and school districts about special ed services that were not delivered during the COVID pandemic have begun to change the landscape, Bonn says. An increase in the number of parent advocates and lawyers who take special education cases has led to more filings in recent years.

“I think the culture is changing a little bit,” Bonn says. 

Due process comes with steep costs and barriers

With the federal backstop of the Office for Civil Rights disappearing, even more due process complaints are likely. They are expensive for both families and districts but effective — when the process is accessible to parents. 

Here are two examples of how this is playing out in states where the number of these complaints is rising quickly:     

In California, the dispute resolution process is available to financially stable, highly educated families confident enough to speak out about their child’s services, says Cheryl Theis, who worked as a parent advocate in Oakland for 18 years at the Disability Rights Education Defense Fund.

“IDEA is built on one fundamental premise: that every child has a parent who can advocate for them,” Theis says. “But there’s always been some power imbalance around how effectively a parent can participate and how hard they’re willing to push, and that’s been an ongoing problem.”

Over the past several years, California has received roughly the same number of mediations and due process complaints — which make up about 90% of filings, according to data from . The state had nearly 55 due process complaints and 56 mediation requests per 10,000 children in 2022-23.

Excluding the outliers not included in this analysis — New York and Puerto Rico — California’s due process case rate is the second highest in the country. But the number that proceed to the ultimate stage is miniscule. Less than 1% of the 4,401 cases filed in 2022-23 were heard by a judge, while 3,254 were resolved before the hearing stage. 

Advocates say this reflects a trend they expect to play out in other places: With large numbers of private law firms and nonprofits able to file pro bono cases, increasingly school districts are choosing to settle due process complaints quickly. Many California school systems now routinely purchase commercial insurance, which picks up most of the cost. This may seem like an inexpensive way to shorten what can be months of expensive arguments, but attorneys and disability advocates note that the insurance premiums come out of the district’s budget, which could be paying for needed services. 

Some families end up with better agreements for their children than they would using the state complaint process, advocates say. But even when families view a settlement as a win, Theis says, compensatory education often requires the parent to pay upfront for private services and get reimbursed from the district — another barrier for those who are low-income.

In the past two school years, Oakland Unified School District shelled out $579,588 in attorney fees and paid $823,964 to families to cover their legal costs in settlement cases, according to district financial records. The settlements forced the district to spend roughly $3.5 million on student services.

Oakland in previous years for IDEA violations. Systemic problems uncovered by investigations in 2007 and 2013 included staffing shortages, lack of special education curricula, deficient budgets and the placement of students in segregated special ed classrooms, according to Disability Rights California. 

The nonprofit filed a on the behalf of all special education students in the district. 

“If you look at those millions of dollars in settlements, like, how many teachers could you train, how many adaptive tricycles could you buy? What specialized summer programs could you create?” Theis asks. “It’s like this squeaky-wheel system where 10 people might need it, but only one parent is going to have the knowledge, the time and the finances to maybe get an attorney.”

In a statement the district said that since the pandemic, it has expanded its alternative dispute resolution program, which provides a neutral representative who can conduct IEP meetings or resolve issues with families without an attorney or legal fees.

“Additionally, we offer open office hours monthly for any family who wants to speak with a neutral special education attorney about their questions or concerns about their child’s IEP,” the district said.

In 2024-25, 31 cases went through the alternative dispute resolution program, and 29 were resolved with no attorney fees, the district said.

Our second example, Washington, D.C., has one of the highest rates of due process complaints in the nation, behind New York and Puerto Rico. In 2022-23, roughly 151 complaints were filed per 10,000 children. These numbers prompted a federal probe in March to investigate claims that D.C.’s traditional public school system is not meeting the needs of students with disabilities.

Advocates say D.C.’s special education issues are similar to those in the rest of the nation, but an oversaturation of disability lawyers and agencies has educated families about their children’s school services — and taught them to use litigation to get what they are entitled to under federal law. This, they say, contributes to the high filing numbers.

A from the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights found that D.C. has the highest rate in the nation of due process complaints resolved without a hearing, which could indicate a “sue and settle approach” — which favors those who can afford attorneys. 

“It’s really a national problem that we are just disregarding kids with disabilities and not putting the resources into them,” says Zeisel, whose Children’s Law Center has roughly 250 cases at any given time, one-third involving families going through due process. “Parents have to sue, and kids lose almost a whole school year to try to get what [they need]. We would love to put ourselves out of a job and not not be litigating this stuff and go do something else.”

While advocates say the number of cases is still too high, D.C.’s filing numbers have plummeted over the last decade. In the 2011-12 school year, 805 due process complaints per 10,000 children were reported. The latest data available shows that D.C. had 151 complaints per 10,000 children in 2022-23.

The credits the drop to D.C. improving its capacity in handling cases and creating a student hearing office.

In 2023, the city paid more than $3.1 million to attorneys as a result of due process complaints against D.C. Public Schools, according to a 2023 inspector general .

Donovan Anderson represented the district in special education cases until he opened his own firm doing the same work more than 25 years ago. 

“Parents will reach out to me because they are searching for answers,” he says. “They are in disbelief with the quality of education that their child is receiving.”

Once Anderson files a on behalf of a family, the district has 15 days to hold a resolution meeting as a way to discuss the issues and potentially resolve them. He says almost all his cases end at this stage because continuing with due process is usually time-consuming and too costly for families. 

If nothing is agreed upon during the resolution meeting and a parent wants to continue to a due process hearing, the timeline can stretch to 75 days before any decision is made. Then there’s also more of a chance that families will lose their case and come out with nothing but debt after a long fight. 

Anderson says resolving a case during the resolution meeting makes the school district pay the family’s attorney fees — usually a few thousand dollars — but parents who lose due process are on the hook for the thousands more spent on lawyers and experts to testify during the hearing.

“If I settle the case in 15 days, the child [and] the parent can see tangible results in 30 to 45 days after meeting me,” he says. “I can make a lot more money if I have to go to a due process hearing, but it doesn’t necessarily benefit the child, because the parent has to wait that much longer to have tangible solutions.”

‘The therapist said it was self-defense’

Even the most cut-and-dried due process case — the kind likely to be resolved quickly and in a student’s  favor — can be prohibitively expensive just to file. Texas parent N.G.’s son, A.G., is autistic, nonverbal and very bright. (Because the family signed a nondisclosure agreement at the conclusion of the case — a common district demand — N.G. asked that they be identified by their initials.) 

A.G. could add and subtract in kindergarten, but his first grade teacher conflated his lack of speech with academic incompetence and gave him a picture of the number 1 to color. Bored, A.G. acted up, his mother says. A few weeks into the year, he wandered off and got lost in the school.

In February, he came home with a hand-shaped bruise on his arm following an occupational therapy session in school. “The therapist said it was self-defense,” N.G. says. “I said, ‘He’s 6 and he has low muscle tone.’ ”

It took her a month to find an attorney, hundreds of miles away. The lawyer charged a flat fee of $6,000 for his first three months of work. The family’s due process complaint was so stark and well-documented — N.G. had logged every interaction on a spreadsheet — that a mediator quickly negotiated a good settlement.      

Had the mediator failed, however, the family would have had to drop the complaint. After 90 days, the attorney would have needed to be paid by the hour — money N.G. would not necessarily have been entitled to recover.

Perhaps the best proof of the value of federal oversight of special education is to be found in Texas, where state officials have spent seven years overhauling how schools are held accountable for serving children with disabilities. Attorneys and advocates now routinely advise families to avoid due process altogether and file state complaints — the route Congress originally envisioned as the quickest path to securing help for kids.    

In 2016, a revealed that for years, the state had improperly denied services to hundreds of thousands of children by capping the number of special ed students districts could serve. In response, the U.S. Education Department ordered state officials to take a series of steps to find and evaluate children with disabilities.  

Since then, the number of special education students has increased by 67%, rising from 463,000 to 775,000. Meeting their needs has stretched Texas schools, which couldn’t simply conjure the staff — or funding — to beef up special education overnight. 

In 2022, Texas lawmakers lengthened the amount of time families have to file due process claims from one year after an episode to a more standard two years.

Conventional wisdom would hold that a tsunami of families seeking support and a longer window to complain when they don’t get it would send caseloads skyrocketing. But due process complaints have instead fallen, from 8 per 10,000 students in 2014-15 to 5.5 in 2021-22.

Meanwhile, the number of state complaints nearly quadrupled between the 2020-21 and 2022-23 academic years, rising from 261 to 979. The number of resulting reports — the documents that say what state investigators found — tripled, from 164 to 549. Also on the rise is the number of complaints withdrawn before the formal process begins — likely as a result of districts resolving disagreements quickly.    

Colleen Potts, supervising attorney for Disability Rights Texas, says the organization’s lawyers now see state complaints as the most effective way to get quick relief for students and families. 

“I’ve been doing this for 19 years, and the last two or three years we are getting consistently good outcomes in non-adversarial ‘meeting of the minds’ meetings, with resolutions that are acceptable to everyone,” she says. 

Indeed, districts often are quick to try to resolve disagreements before the state investigates. Potts encourages the attorneys she works with to list proposed remedies in their complaints even if they aren’t things a state typically requires a lagging district to do. 

In practical terms, this document can serve as a road map to getting a child’s needs met, she explains: “Anything is on the table.” 

In 2018, in response to the U.S. Education Department’s intervention, the Texas Education Agency drew up an for overhauling special education statewide. A key goal was making resources available to families and districts to help them resolve disagreements early. According to Jennifer Alexander, Texas’ deputy commissioner for special populations and student supports, 10% of state complaints are now resolved this way, even if investigators have already begun work on the case.     

As the state officials made the changes outlined in the strategic plan, they examined data on disputes to find out where things go awry, says Alexander: “Where it often breaks down is the family does not know the process and so can’t express to the district what they need.” 

To that end, in 2023 the state began offering to pay for trained facilitators to participate in the initial meetings where families and educators negotiate a child’s individualized education program — the legally required document that spells out how the student’s needs will be met. The cost to the state is $1,500 per negotiation.

Of the 20 facilitated IEP meetings that took place in 2024, 40% resulted in an agreement, Alexander says. During the first half of 2025, there have been 25 meetings, and 56% have resulted in agreements. Two negotiations are pending.

The state also created a parent-friendly special education online portal, , where a relatively simple automatically collects the information that is legally required to make a case pursuable, to head off situations like Rios’. 

When the form is submitted, the district immediately gets a copy. This, Alexander says, often prompts school staff to begin trying to resolve the disagreement. Any agreement is legally binding.     

The changes Texas has made are having an impact for students, advocates agree. And, they say, there is reason to hope that the new strategies for ironing out disagreements before they become heated will show other states that better, quicker communication can head off the costs faced by places like Oakland and Washington, D.C.

But without the possibility that federal officials will compel states to do better, any improvement will be piecemeal, says Robyn Linscott, director of family and education policy at The Arc of the United States.   

“You might have some states that try to step in and create or beef up a state-level backstop, whether it’s a special agency or ombudsman or something they already have in place,” she says. “And then you’ll have other states that are not necessarily going to see the value in trying to provide more stable resources for families to have recourse.

“This will leave us with this state-by-state patchwork.” 

Uncertainty remains for parents who fight for their child’s services

According to documents filed in a court case challenging the Trump administration’s mass firings, the U.S. Education Department said it dismissed more than 3,400 complaints between March 11 and June 27, . That’s more than 28% of the OCR’s caseload.   

Rios has yet to learn whether hers is one of them. After the May email informing her the case had been closed because it was too old, an advocate helped her compile a paper trail showing she had met every deadline. In the past, that has often convinced the agency to make an exception. 

Rios says all she wants is what she’s been fighting for this entire time — accountability from the school and a plan to make it right for Nevaeh. 

“She goes to school and she learns, but then she comes home and I’m reteaching the material,” Rios says. “On top of all of that, I’m now having to file complaints, follow up on complaints, send angry emails, follow up on those angry emails, make phone calls — like, I’m basically my daughter’s teacher, lawyer, advocate, I’m everything. 

“It’s a lot. I feel like there [are] programs and there are laws around these things for a reason.”

Clarification: An earlier version of this story misstated how a complaint against an individual in Texas was handled. Families are allowed to file special education complaints against individuals with the Texas Education Agency.

Meanwhile, officials in New York City, home to America’s largest school district, are getting acclimated to their fifth leader in 10 years after the most recent superintendent abruptly resigned amid multiple investigations. In Atlanta, where I live, we’re on our fifth superintendent in the last decade as well.

Cincinnati; San Diego; Yonkers, New York, and other urban districts have also experienced turnover this year. According to , roughly 20% of the superintendents in the largest 500 school districts change each year, an increase from the 14% to 16% range by the School Superintendents Association.

Amid all these changes in leadership, the education nonprofit I lead has learned to partner with superintendents while they are in place, as well as make sure that when turnover does happen, the churn doesn’t become a distraction and impede student progress. The key to success is making sure leadership is not held by a single person within a single organization — especially since most superintendents end up being short-term presences — but by many people who are stalwarts and have deep roots in the community. 

Here are three primary lessons we’ve learned: 

First, invest in community members. If the superintendent is the be-all and end-all for education leadership, a community will be decimated whenever a transition occurs. But if there is a deep bench of leaders, a change becomes more of a ripple and less of a tsunami. That’s one reason we prioritize creating and maintaining relationships with board of education members and school leaders, who are often at their posts long before and after any particular superintendent. They can stay focused on students’ day-to-day concerns and successes while leadership is being sorted out.

To understand the issues within neighborhood schools, we hold regular community dialogues and invest in a to help parents and guardians get involved. Over the course of nine months, participants learn about the history of Atlanta Public Schools, explore student achievement trends and identify opportunities to partner with communities to award grant funds. This year, for example, to community-driven aimed at improving college and career readiness for marginalized youth. Over time, participants in the fellowship realize their power and use it to take on parent leadership roles at their children’s school and when meeting with officials to explore the levers that drive systemic change for all of Atlanta’s children.

These grassroots supporters helped our advocacy efforts during a superintendent search by building awareness about how critical it is for the Atlanta Board of Education to hire the right candidate. The fellows attended board meetings and other sessions to inform the community about why the district needs a superintendent with an appetite for change. 

This distributed model of leadership creates a broad base and reduces the chance that any single disruption will cause undue volatility for students, families and educators.

Second, engage families by decentralizing decision-making authority beyond the traditional school district. In Atlanta, public charter schools enable thousands of families to choose the school that is best for their children and insulate them from any tumult at the district level. Most of these schools are part of — yet have some distance from — the school district; charter schools can be authorized locally and approved by the school board.

Yet charters are not a panacea. Launching a new one takes years, and getting in can involve lotteries and waitlists. That’s why we developed a resource, the , to give Metro Atlanta parents a user-friendly way to access publicly available data about student progress and relevant priorities at their children’s schools. Parents can use this data to advocate for improvements at the school and district levels, or to find an alternative, such as through an intra-district transfer.This democratizes data in a way that helps parents understand whether and which public school is the best fit for their child, regardless of fit. 

By having more options and more information, families take back power. 

Third, establish goals and guardrails. New superintendents tend to conduct listening tours before unveiling their own strategic plan; months and sometimes years pass between the announcement of one superintendent’s departure and clarity about what the next one will prioritize. When this process goes quickly, it can lead to whiplash for a school district’s stakeholders; when it lags, it can lead to paralysis in schools and among community partners whose work with students or teachers relies on its alignment with district priorities.

In Atlanta and in cities such as , Ohio, and , school boards have voted to establish accountability policies — — that focus on student outcomes.  In Atlanta, this policy grew out of a series of community conversations about transparency and a focus on students, not adults. Board members devote significant time each month to monitoring progress, and schools that do not meet academic growth goals are required to take significant action to drive improvement. As these parameters are data-driven, they are more objective than decisions that are influenced by the personal opinions or whims of a single leader.

Leaders come and go, and there is only so much that can be done to mitigate the resulting transitions. Taking these three steps can help minimize the impact a superintendent transition has on a community.

The idea is simple: Civil engagement requires, well, engagement. When parents get to choose their children’s schools, they become more engaged and invested in their communities. That is why Black school founders are launching schools — pastors in churches, former public school teachers in pods. For the Black school founders and education entrepreneurs I work with at , this experience can be transformational for everyone involved. School leaders change and lift their communities, parents become empowered to make positive changes for their families and connect with others doing the same, and students experience and appreciate vastly new experiences and peers.

A new finds strong evidence that private schooling is associated with better civic outcomes than public education. The authors show there’s a statistically significant association between attending private school and having more political tolerance, political participation, civic knowledge and skills, and volunteerism and social capital than students who attended public school. 

As the authors note, it’s clear there is a problem with the status quo, as studies show both public school students and adults are woefully behind on civics education. The trickle-down effects are clear, and public schools are just one of many areas of American life where hostility and lack of trust . Private schools can offer a different experience, where parents are encouraged to be involved and schools must work to earn their trust.

When parents go from a hostile to a cooperative relationship, they can recognize their power to become engaged to make change in their communities; when that option is threatened, they realize they can make a difference and use their voices to maintain their rights.

Not long ago, I participated in a march and rally for school choice alongside over 10,000 people in Florida. Martin Luther King III said at the event, “This is about justice; this is about righteousness; this is about freedom — the freedom to choose for your family and your child.” Disenfranchised parents have become powerful leaders in this cause.

Students are transformed, too. This latest study follows others in showing the potential. For example, shows that Milwaukee voucher recipients showed modestly higher levels of political tolerance, civic skills, future political participation and volunteering than public school students did — notable for a program limited to at-risk communities. And that’s not the only positive life outcome. A found that participating in a voucher program throughout high school reduced a student’s likelihood of being accused of a crime between 21% and 50% — with statistically significant reductions for all types of crimes.

Society does not have to consist of adults at odds and children on the wrong path. There is a better way. Improving civil society is a big task, but school choice offers one pathway for making change. Policymakers should take it for the sake of the present — and the future.

Think of the ripple effect that can occur when just one student gets to attend a school to a place where he or she can thrive; when just one parent goes from feeling ignored to having a seat at the table. Multiply this effect by many students and families, and the potential is clear. It’s time to empower every family and every student to reach their potential so our society can truly thrive.

Denisha Allen is a senior fellow at the American Federation for Children and founder of Black Minds Matter.

MathBOOST began last fall with six trained tutors — all of them parents or caregivers — working across four of the district’s 50 elementary campuses. It will expand to more than 20 tutors assisting children in 11 schools next year, said Oakland REACH’s CEO, Lakisha Young.

The tutors, or as Oakland REACH calls them, work inside the classroom alongside teachers and also pull children out for small group instruction, said Alicia Arenas, the district’s director of elementary instruction. 

“We really want our kids to be algebra-ready by the time that they enter middle school and high school,” she said, adding that at least one principal reported that participating children truly enjoy the program. “And the teachers bring up the great math progress they’re seeing from students who work with the math tutors.”

She added that students who are not involved in the program regularly ask if they could join. 

Tutors are paid an hourly rate and qualify for full benefits. Most assist third- through fifth-grade students and two of the six work with younger children. All have strong ties to the district and were carefully chosen, Arenas said. 

“We were looking for that connection and that investment in Oakland and OUSD,” she said. “We also wanted our tutors to represent the community that they serve.”

Some are graduates while others have children in the district. Math tutor Janine Godfrey, 55, works primarily at Garfield Elementary School. She said she helps children better understand their lessons and maintain their focus on the subject during class. 

“I chose this work because I have spent the last three years working through the middle school math curriculum with my son and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed math and teaching,” said Godfrey, who has run her own catering business for 25 years. “It felt like it was time to give back to the community and this felt like a perfect fit for me.”

Godfrey said she’s been moved by the students’ openness and by their ability to forge a solid bond with her.

“I truly hope that the work we have done together will somehow inspire them to work hard in math — and perhaps even enjoy it once in a while,” she said. 

As part of the new tutoring effort, Oakland REACH launched a series of outreach-focused “Math Mindset” meetings at the Think College Now Elementary School campus. 

The organization uses the time to help parents confront their own insecurities around the subject — they remind participants of the groundbreaking strides and cultures made in the topic — as a means to improve their own students’ success. 

REACH secured several respected math educators of color to inspire families, Young said, adding that she hopes the gatherings will also serve to identify possible math tutors. 

Recruitment has been a challenge as many people in the Oakland school community identify themselves as “bad at math,”  an idea that leaves parents thinking they can’t help their children progress in the subject, Young said.  

“We have to employ a different strategy when it comes to bringing our communities along in math,” she said. “We need to do the work of building the confidence and awareness they need to feel like math is something in my ancestry.”

Young said REACH’s math-related efforts will extend beyond the school year as the organization recently secured a summertime partnership with the district. SummerBOOST will allow math tutoring at two pilot sites serving some 350 children in kindergarten through fourth grade. 

Children all over the country have long struggled with math. Systemic inequity has caused Black, Hispanic and poor children to fall behind even further than their peers nationwide, a gap that grew worse because of the pandemic. Fourth-grade NAEP scores fell a stunning five points in 2022 from 2019. Eighth graders suffered an eight-point drop in that same time period, erasing decades of growth.

Results are equally troubling in the Oakland district: scored proficient on the 2022-23 state math assessments. High school students fared even worse, with just 14.11% of 11th graders reaching that same benchmark.  

“The mindset shift is key,” Young said. 

Young started REACH eight years ago with the goal of empowering Black and brown families to advocate for a high-quality education for their children. During the pandemic, REACH launched the Virtual Family Hub, providing online learning opportunities to families that resulted in significant literacy gains for students. 

In its December 2021 Hub parent satisfaction survey, 88% of families wanted more math intervention support for their children. So, after crafting an effective literacy model, the group turned its attention to math. 

“Let’s go back to K-2 when they are most flexible around deficits and excited about learning,” Young said. “This is a full frontal attack.”

Disclosure: Walton Family Foundation, Chan Zuckerberg Initiative and The Charles and Lynn Schusterman Family Philanthropies provide financial support to The Oakland REACH and ĂŰĚŇÓ°ĘÓ.

She chose to enroll her daughter in Atlas Elementary, a public charter school in the city’s Downtown West neighborhood. Her daughter settled into kindergarten, but Lowman didn’t feel at home in her old hometown.

Volunteering at a school enrollment fair, Lowman stopped and talked with the women at the table. What happened next would help Lowman find a community and become deeply involved in her daughter’s education. She spent the next several months engaged in a combination of research and learning, being coached to understand how to create change in schools.

Founded in January 2022 by a former educator, ActivateSTL trains parents and teens in St. Louis to advocate for quality education. This training and support is needed, parents say, because public schools in St. Louis are so inequitable and on standardized tests. White children are than Black children to attend schools where it’s the norm for students to meet math and language arts standards, according to Missouri state data.

In June, ActivateSTL began its first training cohort with 17 parents and 11 students. It started with a data download: Who’s in charge of traditional public and charter schools — from local school boards to state officials — how do St. Louis’s suspension rates vary by race and gender and what are the student proficiency outcomes at the state, district and individual school levels?

“I had no clue that public school scores were as low as they were,” said Lowman. “Looking at those numbers, that was disheartening. Since then, I’ve been more involved, and not just in the fun stuff, for my kid and others as well.”

That’s the kind of insider understanding that Tiara Jordan wanted to give parents when she started ActivateSTL. Jordan, who is Black, attended mostly white schools when her parents moved the family to an affluent district outside of Flint, Michigan. She saw how assertive white parents were about advocating for their children. Later, while studying to become a teacher, she saw how broken and under-resourced many urban schools are. 

“I was blessed and fortunate,” she said. “Not everybody has the resources to up and move to a better school district.”

Jordan worked as a teacher and principal in Chicago, Cleveland and New York. She opened new charter schools in Chicago and Brooklyn and experienced the benefits that charter schools, which are publicly funded but privately run, can offer communities where public schools are failing. When she moved to St. Louis in 2019, she connected with the St. Louis-based education nonprofit and was struck by how much work needed to be done to address inequities in the city’s schools. 

“How is it that Chicago, D.C. and other cities have figured this out [better]?,” she recalls wondering. “What is happening in St. Louis that it could be so behind in funding, and proficiency levels?”

But she was new to town, so she spent some time meeting with parents and education advocates and was struck again: so many parents weren’t aware of how badly the city’s schools were struggling. 

“I didn’t want to define what ActivateSTL was without knowing the community,” she says. “We’re mobilizing parents and developing their leadership skills, so they can drive the plan of attack.”

Fully funded by the Opportunity Trust, ActivateSTL has three full-time employees, including Jordan and St. Louis educator LaShonda Hill. They are part of a national movement that has only grown since the pandemic — with groups like and the — to help parents become smarter public education consumers and savvier advocates for change. 

Parents, Jordan says, have more power than they realize to put pressure on state, district and charter officials.

“Our end goal is to get parents in seats of power,” Jordan said. “Going to a I saw how much influence parents could have.”

With support, parents with ideas for how schools can improve might be able to make positive changes. After moving her dyslexic daughter out of several schools because they weren’t providing adequate support, Kathryn Bonney found a private school that offered life-changing tutoring.

“The impact it had on my child was night and day. Utterly transformative,” said Bonney, who is white.

She wondered, what would it take to bring this kind of high-quality tutoring to all St. Louis children with dyslexia? She happened to have a conversation with Tiara Jordan, who encouraged her to pursue the question. 

“ActivateSTL is specifically geared toward parent organizing and leadership,” Bonney said. “Parents like me who have really big ideas.”

She joined the training cohort and got help fleshing out her goal — to have tutors trained in a highly structured, phonics-focused method of reading instruction, present in all St. Louis elementary schools. In addition to meeting other parents passionate about advocacy, she found a mentor in Jordan who assigned Bonney homework to advance the tutoring project: create a pitch deck in PowerPoint or meet with tutoring providers, for example. She also checked in every week to see what progress was being made, Bonney said.

Jordan has an understanding of how educational systems work: who makes decisions at school sites as well as downtown at the central office and in the state capitol. She passes that knowledge on to parents and helps them understand how they can ask for what they want.

When Shae Lowman’s first-grade daughter was struggling with reading, Lowman didn’t know where to begin to address the problem. 

“Tiara did a presentation about who to start with,” Lowman said. “I sent my daughter’s teacher a text and the next week they had my daughter reading. Having the courage and support to point out the discrepancies my daughter was having is fabulous.”

Older students, Jordan believes, can advocate for themselves, with the right support. During a summer training cohort for high school students, 10 teenagers were paid $20 an hour to meet every day for a month. Jordan explained the history and principles of public education and took students on field trips, showing them what the affluent schools in St. Louis look like. They got a bird’s eye view of how unequal school funding really is.

“I want to be an actor and my school took away the theater program,” said Alana Wilson, a senior at KIPP High School. The ActivateSTL training included information about budget transparency, which means parents and students have a right to see how money is spent at the school. “Why is my intended major being replaced with political science?” Wilson asked. 

Wilson, who said she is usually “shy and quiet” has now joined the student council. Together with other members, she asked to meet with the school principal to present a petition, signed by students who want bottled water to be available in the cafeteria in addition to milk, but the principal said it wasn’t her decision to make. Wilson said she’s trying to figure out a different way to handle the situation.

“Before the cohort, I never would have opened my mouth,” Wilson said. “I learned that I have a voice and I don’t have to be silenced by the system.”

The Opportunity Trust provides financial support to ĂŰĚŇÓ°ĘÓ. 

To mark 24 months since schools shut down because of COVID-19, ĂŰĚŇÓ°ĘÓ spoke with parents, educators, researchers and students across the U.S. We are running some of these interviews in their entirety to give complete accounts of where we’ve been and where some think we’re going.Ěý

On leave from her job at Kaiser Permanente and trying to adjust to remote school with her two children, Toni Rochelle Baker of Oakland, California, found a new calling in the early months of the pandemic. When parent advocacy group Oakland REACH asked her to become a parent liaison, she thought, “I know what I’m scared of and what I’m facing over here, so let me help wherever I can,” she told ĂŰĚŇÓ°ĘÓ.Ěý

In early March, philanthropist McKenzie Scott donated to Oakland REACH to expand its work on literacy and math tutoring programs. 

In a January interview, Baker spoke about her kindergartner’s disappointment with virtual kindergarten, losing her best friend to COVID-19 and the importance of cherishing “the little things.”

The interview has been edited for length and clarity.

ĂŰĚŇÓ°ĘÓ: Feb. 14 was 700 days since most schools began closing. That number even took us by surprise. What’s your initial reaction to it?

Toni Rochelle Baker: ​​Wow, this really happened. At first, I thought it’s going to be like two weeks. My thought was, “I’m kind of happy we get to stay home. The world gets to shut down. I need a little break.” What’s a break to a mother? We don’t get to have sick days.

What was the moment you realized everything changed? What were you doing before and after?

My kitchen, my dining room table had turned into a school. I had two kids at the table with computers doing virtual learning and I had no idea what that meant. They told us to sign on to some Zoom that I’ve never heard of before. All three of us were at the table because at that time I was working from home. I thought we’re all going to just sit at the table and do our work. Then I realized we’re sitting there and there are 25 other students on Zoom in kindergarten. It just got real. 

What decisions do you remember having to make in the first weeks after schools closed?

I was in shock. We were told we couldn’t leave our house. We shouldn’t be around family and friends. We should be isolated. I was happy at first because I needed the time to breathe, but on the flip side, I thought this doesn’t feel so friendly. I’m a people person. I’m used to being around people and being outside and enjoying nature. Now they’re telling us to be cautious. I thought, “Is the world coming to an end? Is this what it’s going to feel like?” It was scary and confusing.

They gave us curfews in our city and told us to stock up on food. I don’t live my life like that. I’m a single mother. I go grocery shopping when I can. We get what we need. I didn’t have a deep freezer. I didn’t have extra money just laying around to spend $300 on food. I didn’t have Wi-Fi at the time because I didn’t really need it. I have my phone and now I need Wi-Fi for three people.

What has been the darkest part of the pandemic for you?

My best friend, who is like my big sister, died from COVID. I talked to her three days before she went into the hospital, not even knowing that she was sick. She didn’t know she was sick. Then she goes into the hospital and passes away. I couldn’t go see her. I couldn’t go to the hospital.

Tell me about your children. How old are they?

Talia is 9, in the third grade, and Tatum is 6, and he’s in the first grade. [Before the pandemic], my daughter was already in elementary school and my son was in preschool. Every day, I would drop my daughter off at school and my son would be with me. There was a kindergarten class across the hall from her first grade class. My son, who wasn’t even going to that school,  would go get in the line with the kindergartners. y. He would fist bump the teacher. The teacher would say, “Give me a hug,” and he would literally go to her class every single morning, sit down at carpet time, snacktime and even do the worksheet activity. This is a true story. I didn’t know that God was setting it up for him. It got to the point where they put a picture of him on the wall. 

The following year when he was ready to go to kindergarten, I got a call from that teacher, and she said, “Oh my God. I got Tatum on my roster.” I was so excited because they already had a bond. But he never got to go to in-person kindergarten because the pandemic happened. He already had a relationship with the teacher before the world shut down, so he was able to maneuver through kindergarten. But I never imagined not being able to walk my son to kindergarten. Those are the most valuable years of life. 

What broke my heart was for him to say, “Mommy, I hate school. I hate kindergarten. I want to go back to preschool.” That hit me, and it hit me hard. He already had this perfect picture in his mind about kindergarten. It was like he was saying, “Wait, you didn’t tell me I was going to be on the computer.” He didn’t understand. I didn’t understand. It broke my heart because the other kids didn’t even have what he had — that relationship. 

Did you consider holding him out of kindergarten? A lot of parents did.

Absolutely not. My children are just like me — social butterflies. I’m in love with my kids, but my kids were on my last nerves during the pandemic. Those four walls just weren’t enough.

How did you get through the tough times? Who did you rely on?

I was just relying on God. I was getting ready to see his face. Outside of God, I had Oakland REACH. I had a support system. They gave us vouchers for food. They gave my kids free computers. They gave us Wi-Fi. They had these teachers — I don’t even know where they found these beautiful teachers with these loving hearts for these kids. There was a teacher who had a grandma’s touch and a mom’s heart, and she was just so warm. This is through a computer. I’ve never met this woman to this day in real life. I had the community of Oakland REACH behind me. I wouldn’t have made it without them.

I have been with them for a couple years. About two weeks before the pandemic, I was put on an administrative leave from work at Kaiser Permanente. They told me I was coming back, but then the world shut down. This parent-led group that’s like a family to me said, “We’ve got to put something in place for these families. Everybody is at home.” I said, “I’m willing to help. I know what I’m scared of and what I’m facing over here so let me help wherever I can.” When I first met this group, I told them if they ever had a position, to hire me because I love the work they do. I love the mission. I didn’t know the pandemic was going to open that door for me.

They created this hub and they needed family liaisons. I didn’t even know what that meant. I was teaching my kids, but I was bored as heck because I’m used to being a busybody. I started helping other families and other mothers, calling my friends and telling them about Oakland REACH.Ěý

Describe a moment when you felt you were getting conflicting guidance or instructions.

The school didn’t even know what to do. They didn’t have a lesson plan. They said to log on to Zoom for an hour. That was it. Then you do these worksheets. You are your child’s first teacher. I do believe that. I read to my children, but [the school] is telling me I’ve got to be a kindergarten teacher and a first grade teacher and do my work. It just didn’t add up to me. Then not being able to be with friends and family because we didn’t know if we were going to infect each other or if we were sick — it was just scary. It was just me and my children, and it was lonely. 

Your children changed schools last year. What led you to make that decision?

My son got to finish the end of kindergarten. I was hesitant on sending them back to school, but their mental state was so bad. They needed to go back, be with people and feel some type of routine. I didn’t know if I was making a good choice as a parent. I didn’t know if they were going to actually keep my baby safe. They were going to school in Oakland, but we live in Walnut Creek [about 16 miles away]. I’m working from home and I’m commuting to Oakland every day just so they can have some sanity. He got to graduate from kindergarten. It was a drive-through graduation. 

When this school year came around, COVID was just everywhere. The previous year, they did the COVID tests, they did the sanitizer, they did the masks, they did all these precautions. And when school started back the next semester, all of that went out the window. I let it slide the first two days of school, but by the third day, I’m like, “What’s going on? Where are the masks? We’re still in this stuff, and it’s worse now.” I had to make an executive decision as a parent. My kid’s class got exposed and I didn’t like the safety of it. I was worrying, like I had knots in my stomach. I had to remove my children from there. [My son’s] class went on quarantine for a week and then I just never took them back.

What do you feel hopeful about now?

I feel hopeful we can ascend through this. I wouldn’t say we know exactly what we’re dealing with, but we’re cautious now, we’re aware. My hope is to find some sense of normalcy. Maybe this is the new way of living, taking it day to day. Nothing is predictable. Hold onto the memories that we had in the good times because this is the new way of living. I don’t think this thing is going away any time soon.Ěý

You don’t feel like the pandemic is ending?

We’re still in it, and a lot of people are still not taking it seriously. A lot of people are not taking precautions. A lot of people just still don’t care. I’ve lost several people to death, but people don’t want to get vaccinated. People don’t want to wear masks. People don’t want to have social distancing. People aren’t washing their hands. I can’t even go to the grocery store and taste a grape. We’ve been doing that since we were kids, eating the grapes and strawberries at the grocery store. You can’t go to Costco and get the samples. It’s the little things. 

What would you tell yourself 700 days ago, if you could go back in time, given what we know now? 

Cherish your time because time is something we’ll never get back. Smiling with my friend, looking at her actual smile without a mask, the hugs we exchanged without feeling like we were going to kill one another, holding hands and walking through the park —  it’s the little things for me. The playdates, the sleepovers, eating out. 

You work with a lot of parents. What do you think the public hasn’t understood about parents during these past two years?

The world is in a pandemic, but the educational system for Black and brown children was in a pandemic way before that. It was already hard for us. Our kids are not getting everything that they need. Trying to navigate education and figure out the best solution for these babies, the leaders of the future, is difficult. We don’t have tutors, we don’t have money, we don’t have resources, we don’t have people we could call. It’s just us, figuring it out day to day and trying to keep our babies alive, healthy and safe.

The panel discussion, “Mothers Stand Up; The Rising Voice of the Black Mother,” took place March 10 as part of this year’s SXSW EDU virtual conference. It can now be viewed .

The event brought together four Black mothers who are leading parent movements across the nation: Alisha Thomas Morgan, author, entrepreneur and former Georgia state representative; Deirdra Reed, policy and advocacy partner at The New Teachers Project; Education Freestyle founder Ashley Virden and Lakisha Young, founder and CEO of The Oakland Reach. The conversation was moderated by Mimi Woldeyohannes, ĂŰĚŇÓ°ĘÓ’s special projects and community manager.

The women shared their vision for parent organizing and what it looks like when Black parents have a meaningful voice in how education decisions are made. They also addressed what the learning landscape should be post-pandemic.

“Honestly, too much of this conversation is focused on getting “back to normal” as the answer. Our parents don’t want to go back to normal,” Young said. “Going back to a system where less than 30 percent of Black and brown students are reading on grade level is not a solution — and it’s certainly not a win. If the system wants to earn our trust, they need to show us a real plan for getting our kids access to high-quality instruction.”

The VELA Education Fund has made grants to a number of groups engaging in these learning models and the Center on Reinventing Public Education has taken on the intriguing work of tracking their progress. Together with ĂŰĚŇÓ°ĘÓ, the two groups hosted a panel discussion Thursday with three founders to hear about the ways they have worked to meet students’ needs in their community and what innovations they hope to keep when COVID-19 recedes.

ĂŰĚŇÓ°ĘÓ’s Beth Hawkins moderated a discussion with CRPE Director Robin Lake, Engaged Detroit founder Bernita Bradley, Elijah Moses of Wise Young Builders in Buffalo and Washington, D.C., and Green Gate Children’s School co-founder Katie Saiz in Wichita, Kansas.

Disclosure: The Walton Family Foundation provides financial support to both the VELA Education Fund and ĂŰĚŇÓ°ĘÓ.

Amid the global coronavirus crisis, we must continue to focus on and support organizations that inform and organize parents so they can exercise their innate power — individually and collectively — to create and sustain change for their children, schools and school systems.

While philanthropic portfolios and endowments have shrunk in tandem with the economic fallout from the pandemic, the needs of under-resourced communities have only grown in scale and scope. In response, organizing nonprofits serving these communities have seen their responsibilities expand across three critical roles:

1. Triage to meet immediate needs

2. Education providers and translators

3. Strategists to influence changes coming to the system

Funders who work for education equity must support these organizations in their work across all three of these roles, guided by the needs that parents, as agents of and experts about their communities, identify.

Funding Priority 1: Triage to meet immediate needs

School closures, lost jobs and social distancing guidelines have left gaps in key services that parent organizing groups are now filling in.

They are providing food and basic essentials. They are helping parents navigate unemployment benefits, how to maintain utility services and how to access relief efforts. Some of these organizations are buying Chromebooks and hotspots to help families that are not being served by schools. They are becoming trusted sources that provide accurate, timely information and dispel misinformation.

But this is only the beginning of families’ urgent needs that parent organizing nonprofits are identifying and responding to.

“What our families and communities are experiencing right now is trauma,” said Maya Martin Cadogan, founder and CEO of Washington, D.C.-based . “The magnitude of the mental health needs is monumental for both students and parents, especially those furthest from opportunity. Parents need Chromebooks, but then they — and their children — need access to mental health professionals to help them navigate the uncertainty and anxiety they are experiencing.”

Organizing nonprofits have firsthand insight into what is happening on the ground. Funders seeking to meet community needs should work with them to hear what those needs are.

Funding Priority 2: Education providers and translators

Funders who want to help parents in under-resourced communities access strong education content should fund parent organizing groups to (a) provide content to fill immediate gaps and then (b) recruit parents — who would be paid — to provide their wisdom and insights to quickly evolve the next generation of content coming onto the market.

We’re living in a land of education chaos. As children are forced to stay home through the pandemic, we’re asking tens of millions of parents to become formal educators while dealing with traumatic disruptions in their lives and social safety nets. We are seeing parents assume one of four major new educator roles:

1. Education Monitors: Some schools have responded heroically, deploying their first versions of distance learning content with parents as monitors of their children’s virtual education.

2. Education Partners: Other schools have created solutions where parents are partners co-educating with teachers.

3. Lead Educators: Yet others have deployed solutions that mostly transfer responsibilities to parents as the primary educator.

4. Independent Educators: Some parents have had to take educating their children entirely into their own hands and curate content while waiting for their schools to launch any distance learning.

Organizing groups are supporting parents in all of these roles, especially the huge numbers of parents in under-resourced communities who are largely on their own. A number of parent organizing groups have curated quality content so parents can keep their children learning and are providing hands-on help getting connected.

“When schools started to close across California, parents were asking, ‘What’s happening?’ as everything was moving so quickly,” said Jonathan Klein, co-founder and CEO of . “We got right to work. We directed parents to free educational resources online, we created video tutorials on how to use platforms like Zoom, and — most importantly — we got on the phone with decision makers and asked what the plans were for distance learning so we could help families prepare.”

Right now, these are v1.0 distance learning solutions, made extemporaneously with the expectation that they will evolve. But for parents who have received little or no curricular supports, organizing groups have become de facto education content providers and community hubs where parents can come for resources and share with and support one another.

In addition, many amazing existing education nonprofits are working to translate their content from teacher-facing to parent-facing. But these v1.0 solutions often do not yet incorporate and adapt to the home contexts that many families are facing in this crisis.

To maximize their impact, these education providers need to be able to quickly learn from and listen to parents in under-resourced communities who can share their assets and expertise about their needs as parents who are assuming the role of educators.

“Parents know their children and know their community better than anyone,” said Matt Hammer, founder and CEO of . “Parents are the very people education content providers should turn to in order to understand how their content can best serve parents living, working, parenting and educating in incredibly complex circumstances. Parents should be hired to be focus groups, beta testers, translators and even help-desk providers to ensure good content in theory is effectively deployed content in practice.”Ěý

Funding Priority 3: Strategists to influence changes coming to the system

Decisions are being made at the school, district, state and federal levels about fundamental transformations in our education systems — shaping policies, practices and resource flows. Unfortunately, parents in under-resourced communities are seldom at the table to shape the agenda. They often aren’t even invited into the building.

And now, those buildings are literally closed. Yet people in positions of authority will continue to make decisions. Drawing from the philosophy that “nothing about us, without us, is for us,” parents and parent organizers must develop and deploy an infrastructure of power to shape the agendas impacting their lives.Ěý

Except, given the world in which we currently live, this requires an infrastructure of both power and e-power.

Organizations are at different levels of sophistication on e-organizing, and there has sometimes been hesitancy to invest heavily in online work, as it can feel like a poor replacement for building in-person, deep relationships. However, as Jeremy Bird, former president Barack Obama’s field director, once advised, .”

Organizing online might not be the ideal, but it is our pragmatic present, and with funding support, parent organizing groups will be able to make the most of the opportunity. This means providing organizing groups the funding to succeed at four things:

1. Building their base of e-relationships. Organizing groups are expanding the breadth and depth of their connections by providing resources, information and counsel, and by building online communities for parents who need mutual support.

“For years we have built bridges that connect families, especially those most underserved by our schools, to accurate information, high-quality resources and, ultimately, opportunity,” GO Public Schools’ Klein said. “If anything, COVID-19 has heightened the need for more bridge-building in our communities.”Ěý

This is also an opportunity to capture contact information for parents across email, phone and social apps, and to have parents begin virtual relationships with organizing groups through these various platforms — especially mobile platforms. While old-school is no longer an option in the short term, parent organizing groups can still reach out through .

2. Building parent e-power via e-programming. Classically, parent organizing groups helped parents organize and develop their leadership skills to build an infrastructure of power. This was done through a deep series of in-person , and . These efforts include building the communication skills of parents in drafting and delivering written, audio and video content. These are now being done virtually out of necessity, and they are increasingly effective.

“When we moved our parent leader meetings to virtual, we weren’t sure what turnout would look like. But they all showed up!” PAVE’s Cadogan said. “Every parent has talked about how they are hungry for this engagement — for thinking about the promise of finding solutions together for the complex problems that COVID-19 was further exacerbating. And for some ‘adult’ interaction with other people who know their struggle as parents, teachers and 24/7 caregivers. To date, in just the first three weeks of closure, we’ve hosted nine meetings on Zoom — including a blogging training so that parents can share their stories.”

3. Pivoting to the agendas addressing the needs of COVID-19. Parents, with the support of their organizing groups, must shape and decide on their agenda for change.Ěý

While some communities’ agendas may stay the same, others will need to change (or be reprioritized) to adapt to current circumstances.

“During this crisis, parents want a structured full day of technology-based learning instead of more limited tech approaches or no tech approaches at all,” said Carlos Rodriguez, a Los Angeles-based organizer with Innovate Public Schools. “Even amidst a crisis, parents are resolute in making sure their desires for quality distance learning education are heard. Working-class communities deserve nothing less than the full technological integration that is being seen more readily in schools that serve middle-class and upper-class communities.”

4. Projecting e-power to influence authority. This is perhaps the biggest area of reinvention — how do parents and organizers project an infrastructure of e-power in e-campaigns to influence decisions being made right now through virtual governance?

Parent organizing groups are working with parents to leverage Twitter, Facebook and other virtual channels to reach out to their community, the broader public and the people in positions of formal authority — both pulling people in to their content and pages and pushing their voices out to be heard by others.

Before COVID-19 and social distancing, PAVE parents planned a day of action in Washington, D.C., to promote increasing mental health supports and trauma-informed training in schools. “When schools and offices shut down, parents said that they didn’t want to let up on making this a priority for our city — it was even more important now,” Cadogan said.

Instead, parent organizers hosted a day of digital action, motivating parents across the city to reach out to elected officials via email and social media. Their campaign’s hashtag, #MentalWellnessWins, trended to No. 7 in D.C.

The more parents are involved with organizing groups through any of these media, the more those parents and organizations can reach out to people in positions of authority and get a response — because they represent a base of parent power.Ěý

Further, even in this time of physical distancing, parents can still make their voices heard through letter-writing, phone-calling, emailing and texting.Ěý

Organizing nonprofits in the months to come will continue to expand their ability to support parents in virtually engaging directly with the people in authority representing them, potentially via:

• Virtual ;
• Virtual with hundreds, even thousands, joining virtual events — and now having the benefit of also experiencing that content asynchronously because it is recorded and immediately available;
• Ensuring that parents are able to participate in virtual governance meetings, which could involve organizing their messaging before these meetings through a written, audio or video testimony, a virtual live presence at these meetings and/or via a “parent response” afterward; and
• Virtual candidate forums and efforts to support voter registration and get out the vote as we get closer to November 2020.

And when government becomes less virtual, this infrastructure of e-power will complement and build on the ability of parents to influence authority in person.

“Low-income families of color have always had to fight for their children to get the high-quality education they deserve,” Innovate Public Schools’ Hammer said. “Our context has changed, but the work continues. The best schools partner with parents as co-educators and leaders. That need and opportunity have never been greater. This crisis has painfully revealed the huge gaps in opportunity that already existed. COVID-19 is challenging organizations and systems that serve parents to change quickly and creatively. Organizing is how people come together to not only demand urgent change but also hold systems accountable for delivering over the long term.”

Last, in building their infrastructure of e-power, parents and their supporting organizing nonprofits can also provide a crucial public service to people in positions of formal authority who are now cut off from their constituency and should be hungry to engage with them. While organizing is sometimes about pressure and persuasion, it is also sometimes about partnership.Ěý

With funding, these organizing groups can help parents show up with shovels and pitchforks — even if these tools have to be represented by emojis. But parent groups don’t need messages with yellow money bag icons; they need real money to activate resources and initiatives to ensure that parents can exercise their innate power to drive change.

Alex Cortez is a managing partner with New Profit.

Parents can assume a range of seven crucial roles that together create anĚý to drive change in education systems. Each of these roles creates value. Depending on an organization’s strategy, some roles will be more important than others.

provides an instructive case study in how to nurture parent power effectively across these roles, including an emphasis on parents assuming roles of “formal authority.”

“To achieve our ambition for our community, we need individuals in every role,” PAVE founder and CEO Maya Martin Cadogan explained. “But we also believe we need our members to be able to exert power not just on the system, but within the system.”

The role of formal authority includes parents who are:

●ĚýElected: Parents who run for and win a publicly elected position on a school board or a local governing body such as a neighborhood commission, city council or state board of education.

●ĚýAppointed: Parents who are nominated and appointed to formal bodies such as education task forces, charter school boards or city commissions with a charge to address a need in their community.

●ĚýEmployed: Parents hired and working in leadership roles within public education systems and education nonprofits.

A role in formal authority is not where most people start.

Running for office may not even be on an individual’s radar.

An appointment typically results after building a network of allies and cultivating trust and credibility in a community.

Securing a job in this work requires building skills and knowledge and deciding if the work is a true professional passion.

The PAVE team supports parents to identify and cultivate their innate power across this range of roles, knowing that for some, the role of formal authority can become the ultimate destination.

“We leave no talent and passion on the table” is a de facto motto at PAVE. “We meet members of our community where they are — there is not a single individual who can’t contribute to community-led change; but not everyone wants to contribute in the same way, and many people need a chance to discover the potential of their voice and actions,” Cadogan said.

PAVE begins by seeking out individuals to bring into their network. Staff go to back-to-school nights, community events at parks and libraries and events held by other community organizations. PAVE staff believe that “if you want credibility in a community, you spend time in that community.”

Existing PAVE active members also meet and refer other parents in their community to PAVE organizers, who then reach out and engage in 1:1 meetings with the purpose of understanding “their hopes, dreams and concerns, what is and isn’t working for their family in the city, and what changes they want to see.” Organizers also collect information on what schools the children of these parents attend, the ages of their children, and specific issues that impact them or that they otherwise care about — special education, ELL, school choice, accountability measures, etc.

Many of these parents becomeĚý. Over time, PAVE organizers also identify a subset of parents who have the appetite and aptitude to pursue aĚý in the organization.

Crucially, PAVE looks not for those potential leaders with the biggest voice, but those leaders most committed to the collective agenda.

“A leader for us is not someone there to represent their own agenda, but to own and represent their community’s agenda,” according to Cadogan.

As Washington, D.C., neighborhoods change, PAVE has also taken a deliberate approach to creating Parent Leadership in Education (PLE) Boards that reflect the whole community of each D.C. ward. PLE Boards not only lead on ward-specific issues but also collaborate to define PAVE’s D.C.-wide agenda.

The leadership experiences of PLE Boards then serve as a pipeline for PAVE to identify parents who want to pursue positions ofĚý.

PAVE also collaborates with peer organizations to help these parents prepare to pursue this ambition. PAVE partners with on organizing training for parent leaders, on candidate training, theĚý on communications training ˛š˛ÔťĺĚýĚýto support parents seeking roles on charter school boards.

PAVE also cultivates opportunities for formal authority by explicitly sharing opportunities for power.

“We get asked to have staff be involved in various appointed government bodies with important roles in trying to craft change,” Martin observed. But when PAVE gets these requests, Martin said its first response is always, “You need to have one of our parent leaders involved,” because “we may want to be there as policy wonks, but we want our leaders in a position of authority to represent the community voice.”

Yolanda Corbett is one of these PAVE leaders. She was appointed in 2017 to the D.C. State Board of Education’s Every Student Succeeds Act Task Force. Corbett also co-founded theĚý, which helps families of children with special needs learn how to access resources. She now wants to run to represent her ward in elected office either at the local level on an Advisory Neighborhood Commission or on the State Board of Education.

“PAVE thinks about how we, as parents, can share our voices, unlock the power that we already have within and build power together,” Corbett said. “They helped me to understand how to organize my community and are now connecting me to the trainings I need to run for office so I can grow my leadership and bring the community back into the classroom.”

In reflecting on helping her members pursue positions of formal authority, Cadogan provided this counsel: “If you give parents opportunity, their leadership and journey of empowerment extends in ways you can’t predict when you first meet them. Seed as many parent leaders as you can, and then cede authority to them so they can run with it.”

“For more information on parent empowerment in education, including how to use measurement to maximize impact in this work, please visitĚýParent Empowerment in Education.”

Alex Cortez is a managing partner with New Profit.

Education systems can be fundamentally transformed when informed and organized parents exercise their innate power — individually and collectively — to create and sustain change.

In April, New Profit launched aĚý on parent empowerment in education with a focus on how measurement works in the space.

Like any social endeavor, parent empowerment organizations should think strategically about when and how they measureĚý.

However, this work also has a fourth critical category of measures: the infrastructure of parent power.

Working in collaboration with 18 organizations in the parent empowerment space, we identified seven archetypal roles parents can assume in building and exercising an infrastructure of parent power.

Each of these roles is different, but all create value. Organizations can quantify parent power by measuring the number of parents with whom they have relationships in each role.

Some organizations do this informally. Others measure the infrastructure of parent power based solely on specific actions such as public actions and canvassing.

Still other organizations explicitly define a set of parent roles and then invest in developing the number of parents in those roles necessary to succeed in a campaign (and ultimately across multiple campaigns).

An infrastructure of parent power is not built overnight. Infrastructure is about relationships between an organization and the parents they serve, and what parents decide they will do — individually and/or collectively — as part of this relationship.

As such, building infrastructure involves continual engagement with individuals to: (a) build and sustain relationships; (b) understand their needs as parents and priorities for their children and community; and (c) co-create compelling impact agendas that parents are willing to devote their scarce time and efforts to support.

“The early agenda-setting for any campaign has to happen closely with parents,” shares Jonathan Klein, founder and CEO of . “We aren’t going to succeed at taking on an issue if there isn’t that critical mass of parent leaders and active members to partner with us, shape our approach and — if need be — help us build out a larger infrastructure to enable a campaign to succeed.”

Defining the seven roles

We define the seven roles as follows:

1. General Community Member: An individual who is consuming value from your organization (e.g., going to your website or social media) or receiving mass outreach from you (e.g., mass mailing, mass emailing, advertising), but for whom you don’t have unique identifying information.

2. Subscriber/Supporter: An individual who is known to your organization with unique identifying information (which also allows you to segment by attributes). A subscriber/supporter is a consumer of your organization’s resources in ways that often can be measured but is not actively engaged at a personal level in taking action in a way you can track. Not all subscribers are necessarily supporters. Some subscribers may in fact be opposed to your organization’s agenda but want to consume content you are providing.

3. Active Member — Individual Agenda: A parent who is actively exercising their power through your organization with the focus being on meeting the needs of their children (rather than a larger collective agenda).

4. Active Member — Collective Agenda: A parent who is actively exercising their power through your organization on an issue or electoral campaign at the school, district, city, state or even federal level. This could include participating in one or more actions (e.g. house meetings, public actions or canvassing) both online and in the real world.

5. Emerging Leader: A parent beginning to lead others in collective action.

6. Formal Leader: A parent who sees themselves and is seen by others as a leader, can plan and execute collective action and is followed by members of their community.

7. Formal Authority: A parent who holds a formal role in the system — elected, appointed or employed — to have influence on decisions impacting their community.

Important points to consider

An individual’s progression across these roles need not be linear — they can begin their relationship with your organization in any role. That said, most organizations plan an initial progression that moves clockwise through these roles.

An individual may move from one role to another (in any direction) over time depending on their life circumstance and their interest/alignment with your organization’s impact agenda.

Not every organization’s strategy requires parents to deploy their power in all of these roles! Organizations should customize which roles they prioritize based on a range of factors:

●ĚýTheir local context;

●ĚýTheir impact agenda;

●ĚýThe strategies they are employing to achieve that agenda;

●ĚýThe actions within each strategy;

●ĚýMapping who has what authority in their community and how to exercise power to influence that authority in order to achieve their impact agenda;

●ĚýThe ecosystem of partners and other players who share this impact agenda.

For example, organizations focused on supportingĚý or onĚý are going to focus most on “subscribers/supporters” and “active members — individual agenda.”

Organizations focused on strategies around influencing the system through parentsĚý (issue campaigns) orĚý (electoral campaigns) will focus heavily on developing an infrastructure of parents as active members working on a collective agenda and on emerging leader and formal leader roles (though general community members and subscribers/supporters remain important measures of broad reach and engagement with the community, and a pipeline to support parents moving into more involved roles).

Concluding thoughts

It is worth noting that different organizations will use their own variations of this framework. Some may have fewer categories or more categories depending on what is applicable to their work. Some visually depict this as a continuum, while others lay this out as a ladder or pyramid.

While having a common language in the sector would of course be helpful, it is also not necessary. Ultimately what is most important is for an organization to create internal alignment about its framework for an infrastructure of parent power.

Organizations employ aĚý in defining these various roles.

For more information on this, please visit ourĚý.

Alex Cortez is a managing partner with New Profit.

Education systems can be fundamentally transformed when informed and organized parents exercise their innate power — individually and collectively — to create and sustain change.

The work of helping parents access their power (we don’t empower them) is incredibly hard — and made harder by the unfortunate reality that education reform is not immune to the problem of bias. This bias frequently manifests in beliefs about the ability of parents to drive change in their communities.

Too often, well-intentioned education efforts discount parents out of a misguided belief that if parents were part of the solution, they would have already addressed the problem.

These efforts usually diagnose the imbalance of power faced by many communities with failing education systems but then inadvertently perpetuate that power imbalance by continuing to exclude parents.

Education reform will never achieve the systems-level change we desire if these are the values by which we operate.

“We have this uncompromising belief in the infinite capacity of every child to learn, grow, create, be brilliant and lead. We must have the same belief in their parents,” counsels Matt Hammer, founder and CEO ofĚý

All education endeavors, and certainly any parent empowerment efforts, should lay out a set of explicit values that articulate:

●ĚýĚýHow parents lead the work of changing education in their communities, and

●ĚýThe role of nonprofit leaders and funders as allies of parent-led efforts.

The following six values guiding parent empowerment in education were developed through deep dialogue and self-reflection with leaders from 18 parent empowerment organizations.

The “we” in these values are nonprofit leaders and funders in reflecting on our role as allies to parent-led efforts.

Six values guiding parent empowerment in education

“High expectations for all is foundational. This should go without saying. But as long as we have school systems that only work — and only even try to work — for some children, we have to say it early and say it often,” advocates Seth Litt, executive director ofĚý.

“Nobody believes in the potential of their children more than parents. Nobody worries more about the future and success of their children than parents. And they will act when they know that their children are not succeeding — if they have that information and if they know how to activate their power. Our members have learned, through years of experience leading schools and systems, that we must partner with parents from the start if our aim is to create sustainable change,” notes Sharhonda Bossier, deputy director ofĚý.

Parents don’t try to solve problems they don’t know they have, and too often parents and children in failing school systems don’t know the system is failing them until it is too late.

Education reformers can be key allies to parents by providing that information and insight. But too often we accidentally hoard information. That information asymmetry then drives us to make decisions without parents. Knowledge is power for students, and knowledge is power for parents.

“Understanding how a school serves each and every child in a community is a fundamental starting point for a parent. Parents need easy-to-understand, trustworthy and relevant data and information presented in a way that’s accessible and allows them to take action,” says Jon Deane, CEO ofĚý.

The messenger is also as important as the message. People are more willing to listen to hard truths from people they trust — members of the community or those who have earned credibility in the community.

Navigator in Chief Whitney Henderson advises, “Relationships are the currency that build trust. Our relationships with parents are grounded in listening, asking them what their needs are, and then helping meet those needs. Their trust becomes an extension of our willingness to put them first.”

This work is about power — how allies help inform and organize parents so that they exercise their innate power.

Jamilah Prince-Stewart, executive director ofĚý, observes, “For years, education reforms have been imposed on communities of color without their input or agency. We work with members to develop their sustained power as leaders for change within their community. And we don’t move without our people.”

It is not uncommon in education reform to hear the refrain, “We need parents to exercise their power on education to achieve ‘X’!” (X being the agenda that the speaker has set.)

As noted in aĚýprevious piece, “If we truly believe that systems change will only happen when parents exercise their power, then we need to be comfortable that they will exercise this power in service of the agenda they create. This does not mean that as education reformers we have to abdicate having an agenda. It is completely legitimate for us to also have an agenda grounded in our beliefs about what a great school system looks like. But if we are sincere about parents being powerful agents of change in their communities, then we can’t just assume our agenda is their agenda.”

This idea of sharing the agenda — and therefore power — can make some uncomfortable. But it’s worth reflecting: How does it feel any different for the communities we are committed to serving when they feel excluded from setting the agenda?

Dennis Littky, co-founder ofĚý ˛š˛ÔťĺĚý, preaches the following community organizing wisdom: “Nothing about us, without us, is for us.”

“Education is of critical importance to parents, children and communities, but it doesn’t exist in a silo,” observes Mary Moran, executive director of New Orleans-basedĚý. “The issues that families face in education are often deeply entwined with the issues they face in other areas such as criminal justice, housing, living wages, health care and immigration. As we organize families to fight for a better education system, we must also work to tear down the institutionalized systems of oppression that Black and Brown families face and develop their leadership to build new systems that prioritize equity and justice.”

Of course, values by themselves do not repudiate or dispel bias.

Many communities have been disenfranchised from their education system (and more broadly their social system) for generations. It should not then be surprising that they tend not to trust those who have authority in that system, nor outsiders coming in. These communities have heard a lot of words, and ours will mean nothing without intentional, credible actions.

Nonetheless, words can be an important starting point — including those that clearly define an organization’s values. Values put a stake in the ground about what an organization will hold itself accountable for and what it will hold others accountable for.

As your organization — be it a nonprofit, a school or a philanthropy — explores its role in driving education change, I encourage you to take the journey as a team to develop internal clarity on your organization’s values around parent power and your role as allies to parents (or feel free to adopt or adapt the values shared here).

For more information on parent empowerment in education, including how to use measurement to maximize impact in this work, please visit .

Alex Cortez is a managing partner with New Profit.

Over the past three decades, education entrepreneurs, parents* and students have demonstrated that with the right innovations, all children can learn and succeed.

But we have also discovered thatĚýthe “supply” of these educational innovations cannot reach its full potential without creating “actionable demand” to remove the political and policy barriersĚýthat prevent education systems from embracing these innovations broadly.

I deliberately use the term “actionable demand” because widespread “latent demand” exists for great schools in all communities.

All communities care equally about the education and future of their children.

But caring is not the same as power.

Most parents in underperforming school systems do not possess the economic power to move to better school systems, and too few know how to activate their personal power to influence change in their current school systems.

Many communities with failing schools lack even basic information to know that their schools are failing and to understand what policies and politics are causing this failure.

Turning “latent demand” into “actionable demand” is about power: informing and organizing parents so they can exercise their innate power — individually and collectively — to create and sustain change.

Four parent empowerment strategies

There are four strategies that informed and organized parents can use to exercise their power:

Parents exercising their power as co-educators of their children, either in collaboration with schools or through other resources.

Parents exercising their power (a) to choose the school they believe is the best fit for their children’s needs (within whatever constraints around choice exist in their community), and (b) to make decisions about the many choices within a school that reflect the needs of their children.

Parents exercising their power through collective action on an issue campaign to influence those in authority to change policies.

ĚýParents exercising their power through electoral action to influence who holds a position of authority or to directly decide policy through a ballot initiative.

The interactive graphic below features examples and lessons from organizations informing and organizing parents to take action across these four strategies.

These four strategies are distinct but are also mutually reinforcing.

The first two strategies — parents exercising their power as partners in education and parents exercising the power of their choice — enable parents to focus on maximizing value from the existing system, which has intrinsic benefit for their children.

Additionally, for some parents, these first two strategies allow them to realize that there are educational opportunities they wish for their children that the existing system simply cannot provide without change. This realization builds understanding, power and will for a set of parents — some of whom will become leaders in their community — to exercise the power of their collective voice and/or exercise the power of their vote to fight for changes in the way their education system operates.

When these types of systems-change campaigns are successful, they also often require parents to again exercise their power as partners or exercise the power of their choice to ensure they and their children can fully access and adopt the benefits a changed system offers.

However, these strategies need not be employed linearly. Parents and organizations can begin with any of these strategies and pursue them in any sequence or combination over time.

Some organizations may exercise all of these strategies directly, while others collaborate with their local education ecosystem to divide and execute — while mutually reinforcing the success of one another’s efforts.

Lastly, parent empowerment efforts are dynamic and cyclical. Organizations and communities can employ an ever-changing mix and sequence of strategies to fit their specific local political, policy and educational performance context.

The journey from a results-driven to a measurement-driven organization in parent empowerment

Over the past two years, I have had the good fortune to learn from and collaborate with 17 organizations across the field of parent empowerment to better understand the promise and potential of their work, as well as the challenges they face.

One challengeĚý— and also opportunityĚý— facing the parent empowerment field is measurement. Like many other evolving areas of social entrepreneurship, parent empowerment organizations are incredibly committed and passionately results-driven. But being results-driven is not the same as being measurement-driven. Caring deeply about impact is not the same as developing clarity as a field on how to measure impact.

Many organizations providing direct education services (school models, out-of-school programming, etc.) have taken the formidable journey from being results-driven to measurement-driven in order to more fully unlock their potential at scale. This journey is an equally important need and opportunity for those working in parent empowerment.

For practitioners of this work, developing greater clarity on when and how to use measurement unlocks value in:

1. Planning parent empowerment campaigns,

2. Effectively executing these campaigns,

3. Learning and sharing — both in the midst of a campaign cycle and between cycles, and

4. Engaging and rallying allies (includingĚýfunders).

And all of these activities help organizations successfully growĚýin size and complexity.

Mina Kumar, chief program officer for Families Empowered, counsels, “Measurement isn’t about bean counting, but about honest, genuine attempts to understand if programming is really having the intended impact we want for students, parents and communities.”

Many funders are also seeking to deepen their understanding of measurement in parent empowerment.ĚýFunders are as results-driven as practitioners. They are also accountable to their boards and stakeholders for results. A lack of clarity on measurement can be an obstacle for funders in building more support for this work within their organization.

Developing a more sophisticated approached to measurement would help funders in:

1. Understanding the impact of the work they are funding in parent empowerment,

2. Learning alongside their grantees about what works and why (and also what does not work and why) — and which investments and programming lead to success,

3. Unlocking more funding, and

4. Better structuring that funding (timeframe of funding, funding for building infrastructure, etc.).

Knowing how to measure what matters ultimatelyĚýcreates stronger social contractsĚýbetween practitioners and funders in service of impact.

“Most funding is designed to be short-term and project-based, which makes long-term planning a challenge. But by introducing measures we believe are important, including about building an organization’s long-term capacity, practitioners not only challenge themselves but also bring funders on board to think strategically and as long-term partners,” shares David Park, senior vice president of strategy and communications at Learning Heroes.

The journey for any education organization to evolve from being results-driven to measurement-driven can be long.Ěý It is an even more complicated journey for the parent empowerment field because it requires thinking about how to measure concepts like relationships, leadership and, of course, power. In addition to measuring inputs, outputs and outcomes, this field also has to quantify a fourth category of measures — infrastructure.

But like any journey, ideally organizations won’t take it alone.

To that end, with funding from the Carnegie Corporation of New York and the Walton Family Foundation, New Profit is launching a web-based resource on parent empowerment in education and emerging strong practices in measurement.

The website includes: more detail on the four parent empowerment strategies; the fundamentals of how measurement works in parent empowerment; the role measurement plays in each strategy; and how measurement works for a set of specific parent empowerment actions, such as house meetings and canvassing.

I hope you will visit “” and share your thoughts, questions and feedback.

_{*We are using “parent” as shorthand for any family or community member taking responsibility for the education and future of a child.}

Alex Cortez is a managing partner with New Profit.

Disclosure: The Carnegie Corporation of New York and the Walton Family Foundation also provide financial support to ĂŰĚŇÓ°ĘÓ.