FEV Tutor, a chat-based, virtual tutoring firm with contracts in districts from California to Florida alerted staff on Saturday that efforts to raise more money or find a buyer had failed. CEO Reed Overfelt cited “worse-than-expected company performance” in his message to employees.

Some districts promptly alerted families about the interruption in services. The Henrico County Public Schools in Virginia referred parents to other tutors, including teachers, “to minimize the impact of FEV’s closure.” The Ector County Independent School District in Texas asked its other provider, Air Tutors, if it could take on the 2,000 students FEV left behind. 

“We found this all out on Sunday,” said Ector spokesman Michael Adkins. “We’ll have to work very quickly to change things over, but as of today, we are expecting we will be able to find a virtual tutor for all of our kids.”

‘Too fast, too quickly’

While districts and other tutoring providers might be able to cobble solutions together, FEV’s demise is one of the more visible early signs of what school finance experts warned would happen when nearly $190 billion in pandemic relief funds ran out. Districts have less money to spend on vendor contracts, leaving companies that were in high demand a year ago having to rethink their futures. Those that expanded at a rapid clip, like FEV Tutor, could be particularly vulnerable. 

“We saw what you would expect with large government programs — a lot of folks rushing out with various models,” said Adam Newman, founder and managing partner of Tyton Partners, a consulting firm. “A lot of those organizations grew too fast, too quickly.”

With district contracts in at least 30 states and an estimated value of over $40 million, FEV Tutor was an “early innovator in providing virtual tutoring services” through an on-demand, chat-based platform, Newman said.  With customers including the , and school districts, the company gave tutors access to an AI coach and engaged in innovative contracts in which tutors earned higher rates when students showed greater improvement. 

They were “massive players” in the industry, and when districts started spending their  relief funds , FEV was “very well-positioned to win all these district [contracts],” added John Failla, founder and CEO of Pearl, a company that helps districts manage tutoring programs. “They scaled up like crazy.”

But while its closing was unexpected, the financial reality that caused it was not. 

A year ago, one expert noted that investments in ed tech had dropped back to pre-pandemic levels. Even in late 2022, “rising inflation, interest rates, geopolitical crises and belt-tightening brought an end to the copious amounts of capital that defined the pandemic,” Tony Wan, head of platform at Reach Capital. Districts were already “preparing the chopping block for tools and services” that were nice to have but no longer necessary. 

Some districts also just prefer to manage their own tutoring programs. 

“If you look at the districts [that] have succeeded in scaling tutoring the most, all of those have owned a lot of the process internally,” said Liz Cohen, policy director at FutureEd, a Georgetown University . She cited Baltimore City, Guilford County, North Carolina, and Nashville as examples. “Districts are increasingly focused on the relational part of tutoring. It can be virtual or in person, but it’s someone who has a face and a name and that the kid knows.” 

The surprise isn’t that FEV Tutor is a “casualty” of the fiscal cliff, she said. “But certainly, nobody expected them to shut down on a Saturday in the middle of the school year when they have active customers and employees.”

FEV Tutor did not respond to an email requesting comment. A red banner at the top of its home page says the company “ceased operations” on Jan. 25. 

The news clearly confused some parents. In response to an announcement on Facebook, some families in Harford County, Maryland, blamed the district and wondered if officials knew weeks ago that services would end so suddenly. Another wrote, “There’s clearly a mismanagement of money somewhere.” 

On the district’s , officials apologized for the disruption, saying they could not guarantee they would be able to “find or implement a comparable solution at this time.” 

Marguerite Roza, the director of Georgetown University’s Edunomics Lab, said she hasn’t seen other pandemic-era vendors face such a dramatic end, but predicted “there will be more in the coming months.”

Return on investment

Software industry veterans Anirudh Baheti and Ryan Patenaude founded FEV Tutor in 2008, well before the pandemic. According to GovSpend, a data company, annual sales didn’t top $1 million until 2018. By 2021, as districts began spending relief funds, sales jumped to over $6.3 million. 

In 2022, Alpine Investors, a private equity firm, acquired the company, and Patenaude said in a press release that he was excited about the “next stage of FEV’s growth.” Jim Tormey, an executive with Alpine, stepped in as CEO until Overfelt took over in 2023. 

FEV’s work in Ector and Duval County, Florida, was also part of an innovative arrangement known as outcomes-based contracting. The company didn’t just deliver tutoring; it promised better results for more money, and offered to take a pay cut if students didn’t make progress. 

Such deals piqued the tutoring world’s interest in recent years as policymakers increasingly called for evidence that relief funds weren’t going to waste. Cohen, who featured FEV’s work last year in a FutureEd , wrote in a commentary that the concept could help ensure districts “get the best return on their investment and help build a culture of performance in public education.”

FEV Tutor further evolved last year when it announced a new AI-enhanced platform, Tutor CoPilot. The tool makes tutors more effective by giving them guiding questions to ask students. In a , the National Student Support Accelerator at Stanford University, which studies tutoring models, found that when less-experienced tutors used the AI support, student math scores increased an average of 9 percentage points. 

But that breakthrough apparently wasn’t enough to turn business around.

In his note to the company, Overfelt said he and the board of directors had “explored every possible avenue to secure FEV Tutor’s future,” but that talks with additional investors had “reached their end.”

Since FEV was on a pay-as-you-go contract, Adkins, in Ector, said the district wasn’t worried about losing money.

But FEV employees are suddenly out of a job. A customer service manager who once taught in the Las Vegas-area Clark County schools posted on LinkedIn that she was . And Jen Mendelsohn, CEO of Braintrust Tutors, said she spent Monday interviewing former FEV employees.

Many, she said, “have long-term district relationships nationwide and are looking for ways to ensure academic continuity for their students.” 

Districts that have faced historic enrollment losses could lose even more families if they don’t respond to student needs, according to the report, released Thursday and provided exclusively to ĂŰĚŇÓ°ĘÓ by Tyton Partners, a consulting firm that has the shifting education landscape since the pandemic. 

Based on a survey of what the researchers call “open-minded parents” — those who show interest in school choice options — 46% said their children’s mental health drove them to find something different. Among middle school parents, the rate was 54%, followed by 48% of high school parents and 44% of parents with elementary school children.

Adam Newman, founding partner at Tyton, said he was “dismayed — but not surprised — by how mental health concerns color parents’ choices.”

“For many parents, there’s a sense that ‘school’ isn’t working, and alternatives might provide a much-needed spark,” he said.

The survey results offer a different look at the youth that escalated in the wake of pandemic school closures. It comes as federal relief funds — and many of the mental health investments that went with them — are set to expire later this year. Many districts used the money for and for students experiencing anxiety or acting out in class.

With students, the is the lowest it’s been since the mid 1980s, according to the American School Counselor Association. But it still doesn’t reach the organization’s recommended ratio of 250-to-1. Jill Cook, executive director of the association, said some districts might not be able to keep the additional counselors, social workers and school psychologists they’ve hired. 

“The hope is … that districts would choose to keep these positions because [they] contribute to student success,” Cook said. “Students who have access to a school counselor often have improved attendance, improved achievement and fewer disciplinary issues.” 

Due to staff shortages, schools have also expanded the use of .  The federal government aims to of mental health professionals through grant programs to districts, states and universities.

‘A big reason people leave’

But some students crying for help can’t find it. Erin Goldman’s daughter reached out to a counselor at her Houston middle school in the fall of 2022 when she received harassing messages on social media, like “KYS,” an acronym for kill yourself. But the counselor couldn’t fit her in.

“She couldn’t get on the calendar. Then the guidance counselor was just supposed to come find her when she had availability, but that never happened,” Goldman said. The cyberbullying was affecting all areas of her daughter’s life. “She would not get up in the morning. It was a constant battle, like screaming matches. Her grades were suffering.”

In the middle of the school year, her parents transferred her to Dietrich Bonhoeffer Academy, a small private middle school. 

“In less than two weeks, she was happy,” she said. “The person who I thought would never like school again likes going to school.”

Consultants who help families navigate school choice options aren’t surprised that emotional health concerns are prompting some parents to change schools.

“If your child is being bullied, that to me is a mental health issue,” said Colleen Dippel, CEO of Families Empowered, a Texas-based nonprofit. “It’s a big reason people leave their schools. Their child says things like ‘I hate school. I don’t want to go to school.’ That’s pretty common.”

Tasha Tarpley, a single mother in Texas, pulled her son Preston out of the Red Oak Independent School District, south of Dallas, after a series of confrontations he had with other students. After one fight, he was suspended.

“My child was afraid to go to school,” she said. “I have a tall 10-year-old. He’s a big guy, and quite naturally [they’re] going to blame everything on the big one.”

On the way to school, she said his mood would drop, and his face “looked like he’d just had a very emotionally, psychologically rough day.” A year ago, she joined , a network supporting homeschool families with curriculum and online or in-person classes. 

“We’ve got our lives back,” she said. “He has healthy friendships, and I’m in a healthier state as a mom.” 

A ‘new arena of competition’

But sometimes, simply moving to another public school in  the same district, instead of leaving the system, can solve the problem, said Whitney Oakley, superintendent of the Guilford County Schools, which includes Greensboro, North Carolina.

The district offers 66 choice options and this year saw at least an 11% increase in applications for choice schools, compared with last year. Oakley took advantage of the system for her own son, who struggles with anxiety.

“I knew that he would probably benefit from a smaller middle school,” she said. “Every family deserves access to that kind of option.”

In addition to the relief funds, the district has received $20 million in grants for mental health services, and last school year, students and teachers participated in more than 10,000 , she said. While the district has seen in enrollment over the past three years, Oakley said some families who’d left the system have returned. 

“I think all public school systems are going to find themselves in this new arena of competition,” she said. “What can we offer here to make sure that choice doesn’t mean us or them? Choice means what best fits the needs of this particular student.” 

According to the Tyton report, the “enduring attraction of a traditional school environment” is what keeps some parents from pursuing other options. Among those who said they would consider switching schools, 41% said the “benefits of school culture and extracurriculars” are holding them back. 

Parent comments cited in the report also reflect concerns that students would miss out on “foundational experiences” if they cut ties to public schools. 

The report is the first in a three-part series about the “evolving landscape of parents’ K-12 education options.” In addition to holding focus groups, the researchers surveyed more than 2,000 parents last August. Almost two-thirds said they were only looking to supplement their children’s existing education through extracurricular programs, including tutoring or enrichment activities. 

Ten percent indicated they would transfer their child to a private school or even an alternative model like a microschool. And more than a quarter of the respondents said they would consider piecing together multiple options to provide their child a customized experience.

Following mental health, academic performance ranked second among the reasons parents said they would choose another schooling option. Forty-four percent of parents open to making a change cited academics as a driving factor.

Tarpley said her son was in fourth grade before she learned he was missing some basic math skills. 

“I needed to know way back in kindergarten that they were seeing some challenges with addition and subtraction — even if it’s just adding doughnuts and cookies,” she said.

Choice options certainly haven’t worked for everyone. For some families, the new arrangements didn’t meet their children’s needs. In other cases, their kids.

Pamela Lang pulled her son, who has ADHD, out of the Kyrene School District, near Phoenix, when he was in fourth grade. She used Arizona’s education savings account program. But most independent and religious schools turned him away. 

Arizona also allows families to transfer outside of their district, but for her son, “schools are always magically full,” she said. Now 16, he attends a private school for students with disabilities, but she’s considered returning to the public system. “At this point, our options are so limited.”

Newman, at Tyton, said the researchers have not yet followed up with parents to see if those who changed schools are satisfied with their decision. But they plan to in the future. 

The second paper in the series will examine why parents decide not to switch, and the third will look at the rise of organizations like Dippel’s that advise families on their options.

Most of the parents that seek her group’s help are “making really good parenting decisions,” she said. “By and large, they’re not hysterical. They don’t want to rip down the [traditional] system. They’re just like, ‘I want to pack up my stuff and get my kid out of this toxic situation.’ ”  

Disclosure: Walton Family Foundation and Stand Together Trust provides financial support to Tyton Partners and ĂŰĚŇÓ°ĘÓ.

“Our motivation for building outside of the system is because we saw our system crumbling in the midst of the pandemic,” said Lakisha Young, founder and CEO of The Oakland Reach in California, which in the early months of the pandemic launched a virtual hub for students who lacked internet access. Now, the nonprofit is training Black and Hispanic parents to work as math and literacy tutors —  “liberators,” they call them — to help students thrive in local schools. 

“Not only are we putting caring, committed people back into our communities,” Young said, “the system now has to re-engage with us in a different kind of power dynamic.” 

As they look to build a movement, however, leaders are grappling with some thorny questions. Are they contributing to school segregation? And to what extent do they want to remain connected to the very public schools their families left?

Young was among the leaders and researchers featured in a Monday webinar hosted by the Center on Reinventing Public Education, a think tank studying the future of pods after most students have returned to traditional schools. The center’s showed that Blacks were more than twice as likely as whites to report that their children were happier in pods — 52% to 25% — and also that they had more trust in the educators leading them than they did teachers in public schools. 

The majority of Black children still attend traditional public schools — 85%, according to . But CRPE researchers wanted to see whether Black pods and microschools connected to broader trends, such as the increase in Black , the and the growth in legislation supporting such models.

Are such policies “paving the way for an explosion in self-determined alternatives to public schools?” asked Jennifer Poon, a fellow with the nonprofit Center for Innovation in Education, which contributed to the research. “And if so, what would that mean for the families in Black pods and microschools? On the flip side, what would that mean for the majority of families who are still served by public schools?”

Introducing a topic often debated in the first year of the pandemic, moderator Chris Stewart, CEO of Brightbeam, a nonprofit that focuses on improving educational opportunities, pitched another question to the panelists: Do pods and microschools contribute to ? 

Speakers rejected the idea. Janelle Woods, founder of the Black Mothers Forum in Phoenix, said Black students are already segregated within public schools because they are suspended and expelled at higher rates than white students.  

Maxine McKinney de Royston, an associate professor at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, formed a small pod for middle school students in cooperation with the Madison school district. She said “it’s a particular form of gaslighting” to blame Black parents for resegregating schools, which she chalked up to  predominantly white, middle class communities from urban school districts.

What ‘schools aren’t delivering’

While homeschool families are used to patching together a variety of learning settings and programs for their children, that is becoming increasingly true of public school parents as well, according to recent research from Tyton Partners, a consulting firm. Its demonstrated growing interest in what researchers described as “multi-site schooling.”

Supplemental pods like those in Oakland are a part of that trend.

“In some cases, parents are looking actively and aggressively for something that schools aren’t delivering,” said Adam Newman, managing partner at Tyton. “It really increases opportunities and challenges for schools to be more creative [and to think] about how they can bridge some of these gaps, particularly around issues of equity.”

Historically, Black parents have always sought better opportunities for their children outside of mainstream schools, said Robert Harvey, former superintendent of a charter school network in East Harlem, New York, and now president of FoodCorps, a nonprofit that helps students access healthy food.

“The early pod school was the slave cabin,” he said.

And four years before the pandemic, Woods founded the Black Mothers Forum in Phoenix to support parents whose children were disproportionately disciplined in public schools.

“Our children were being criminalized and demonized for behavior that was normal for their age group,” she said. 

When schools shut down, the organization launched microschools to serve students whose parents had to work and couldn’t stay home to supervise remote learning. Parents who stayed with microschools are happier, she said, because their children aren’t being disciplined for minor infractions.

Economic options

Because they receive state education funds, the forum’s microschools are free for families. But Woods said foundations can help by supporting meal costs at microschools, which don’t qualify for the National School Lunch Program. It costs $6,000 to $7,000 per month to feed students, she said.

Pods and microschools serve as a “safe harbor” for some Black students, Stewart said. But in states where public funding isn’t available, many Black families can’t afford to form a pod or pay for a private microschool..

Harvey added that Congress opted not to increase the expanded child tax credit, which could have been an “economic option for … Black folks who live one check away from suffering and one check away from thriving.” 

Young said she wants to see more microschools, like those in Arizona.But The Oakland Reach “evolved and adapted” to offer enrichment and tutoring support rather than establish pods outside of the district.

“For better or for worse,” she said, “most of our families are going to be in these public school systems.”

Conducted by Tyton Partners, an investment banking and consulting firm that examines pandemic-related shifts in education, and funded in part by the Walton Family Foundation and Stand Together Trust, the was released Oct. 26.

It comes after parents had courtside seats to various aspects of their children’s learning during the pandemic, prompting many — from myriad backgrounds and political affiliations — to push for change.

“What we’re hearing from parents loud and clear is they feel a greater sense of ownership over their child’s education,” said Christian Lehr, a senior principal in Tyton’s strategy consulting practice. “The last two years have been incredibly difficult. Now, parents are actively searching for new experiences that will deliver on academic promises, yes, but also bring joy and delight.” 

Fifty-nine percent of participants said their educational preferences changed post-pandemic: 51% said personal interest and needs should drive a child’s education rather than grade-level requirements. 

Nearly 80% said learning can and should happen anywhere. 

Some parent groups, frustrated by underperforming schools, have advocated for the types of change they feel will propel children of color and other marginalized groups. Many don’t have a political agenda while others are openly partisan: Conservative parents are driving change from within the public school system, pushing for certain texts — often those that concern issues of race and gender — to be pulled from the classroom. Left-leaning suburban families against this trend. 

Others still, unhappy with districts’ remote learning options during the pandemic, entirely. And while some have returned to campus, virtual school enrollment figures remain high. 

Survey results also reveal that children from underserved backgrounds — a family who identified in the survey with at least two of the following: low-income, Black, Latino, Indigenous and with first-generation college-goers — are less likely than their peers to attend private schools or engage in learning beyond their typical school day. Thirty-eight percent of the 739 respondents in this category indicated they did not participate in any “out-of-school” learning experiences compared to 24% of their peers. 

Just 20% of underserved children attended camp compared to 32% of other students: Likewise, only 9% had private tutors compared to 14% of the remainder.

“Unfortunately, not all families can live out their K-12 aspirations,” Lehr said. “Too many parents are stuck. We must work hard to connect families with a broader set of learning opportunities and provide them the resources and tools necessary to take action.”

The survey included roughly 80 questions but respondents, each of whom had at least one child in grades K-12, didn’t answer all of them: The questions were dependent on previous answers and each took participants down a different path. 

Lakisha Young, executive director of The Oakland REACH, a parent-run group that empowers families from underserved communities to demand high-quality schools, said her organization was born out of frustration. 

On the 2022 California , 65% of Oakland Unified School District students failed to meet grade-level standards in English and 74% missed the mark in math. The roughly 35,500-student district has been failing children for generations, said Young, who reasons students wouldn’t fare so poorly if administrators were capable of improving outcomes without assistance. 

“We exist out of a problem,” said Young, who has three children, her eldest a sophomore at Sarah Lawrence College. “And we have to do everything we can to address it.”

The Oakland REACH, which got its start in 2016, launched an online family literacy hub during the pandemic that provides students with research-based reading instruction. 

The group is also working to recruit dozens of parents and other community members to serve as tutors for reading and math, helping them land paid jobs within the school district that not only support students but lift up families. 

“They resemble our kids, and come from similar neighborhoods,” Young said of the tutors. “Our model builds the assets already in the community.”

The Oakland REACH, which has plans to replicate its programs across the state and nation, has caught the attention of major education philanthropists, including MacKenzie Scott, ex-wife of Amazon founder Jeff Bezos, who recently donated $3 million and the Chan Zuckerberg Initiative, which earlier gave . It’s among 31 education nonprofits that will split $10 million in funding from Accelerate, a new venture launched this year by America Achieves to ensure that all students have access to free, effective tutoring.

Tyton also gathered information from more than 150 K-12 suppliers who serve children in and out of school. It advises the K-12 community to be parent centric and consider the availability, affordability and accessibility of the programs they offer — and communicate these offerings to parents. 

To that end, policymakers and those working in education can develop online platforms and provide guidance for families to navigate their local K-12 ecosystem, it said. Suppliers of student programs, the report found, can increase capacity to serve more children — and funders can help them grow. 

Disclosure: Walton Family Foundation, the Chan Zuckerberg Initiative and Stand Together Trust provide financial support to ĂŰĚŇÓ°ĘÓ.

Social distancing, masks and confining students to their classrooms caused an “explosive amount of mental health needs,” from lack of focus to outright aggression, said Heather Long, a former counselor in the Orange East Supervisory Union district.

“I started to watch as more and more restrictions were being placed on kids,” she said. “I felt like I couldn’t reach the needs.”

That feeling of helplessness is one reason Long left her job in December — joining others who’ve stepped away from traditional schools and transitioned to alternative education models during the pandemic. Now she’s running a microschool out of her New Hampshire home as part of Prenda, a network of tuition-free, small-group programs in six states. Teachers making the leap into such programs are finding parents willing to join them. 

“For the first time in their lives, they have options,” said Jennifer Carolan, a former teacher in the Chicago area and now a partner with Reach Capital. The investment firm supports online programs and ed tech ventures, such as , with thousands of online classes, and , a tutoring platform that states and districts have adopted using federal relief funds.

Traditional schools, Carolan said, haven’t kept pace with what teachers want in the workplace, particularly flexible schedules. And after a “hellish two years,” some are gravitating toward positions that personalize learning for students while offering a better work-life balance.

Prior to the pandemic, schools lost about 16% of their teachers each year, according to . This year, point to scores of burned-out teachers who say they are planning to leave the field and anecdotal reports of mid-year departures. Rand Corp. data from last year showed that long hours, child care responsibilities and COVID-related health concerns were the main factors.

Traditionally, about two-thirds of teachers have moved into other jobs in K-12. Staying at home to care for a child or other family member is the second most common reason. But since the pandemic, many are also finding positions — often related to education.

With no hard national data yet available on teacher departures this year, experts say there’s no evidence of a mass exodus.

But there are signs in some states and districts that predictions of increased turnover are well-grounded. , for example, turnover rates were 17% higher in the fall of 2021 than in 2020, and in the Clark County School District in Las Vegas, of teachers and other licensed staff are well above pre-pandemic levels. 

The question is whether microschools and similar models will continue to be a viable alternative for those leaving district schools. Chad Alderman, a policy director of the Edunomics Lab at Georgetown University who follows trends in the teacher workforce, is skeptical they are sustainable. 

“If even a few kids age out or move or just opt for a different placement, that would put the microschool at risk,” he said. “Absent some sort of consistent funding stream, they would face economic pressure to either grow into a more traditional school or else cease operations.” 

Data last year from , a consulting organization, showed that many families who left districts for pods and microschools were sticking with the model. At the start of the pandemic, some experts warned that pods and microschools would only , drawing well-off families who could afford the cost. States such as Arizona and New Hampshire have since provided public funding to increase equity. And some networks focus on diversity, such as — a platform that matches families with microschool teachers and attracted $8 million from investors last year.

‘A second shot’

Some teachers searching for new options have applied for jobs with Sora Schools, a private, online program now in its third year and serving 150 students, mostly on the East Coast. The school’s founders plan to expand in the fall of 2023 and eventually add in-person sites.

“The ground is fertile,” said Garrett Smiley, the company’s co-founder. 

Several of the school’s teachers — called “experts” — joined the program during the pandemic and he gets a few hundred applications for each open position. The application of Angela Anskis, who learned about Sora on LinkedIn last summer, stood out. 

She was teaching in a Philadelphia charter school, Boys Latin, when she began weighing a move. The school — and other public schools where she worked — didn’t offer students the choice to study what interested them, she said. After the school reopened, she found herself writing the same lesson plans for history, civics and geography that she always had.

“Once you’re teaching the same thing over and over and over again it’s hard to be passionate,” she said. “I would dread going into school. I thought that was part of being an adult.”

Anskis always wanted to be a teacher. As a kindergartner, she drew pictures of her future classroom. But returning to school after remote learning, she felt boxed in and considered leaving education completely. Sora, she said, gave her a “second shot.”

Sora educators are allowed to either focus full time on curriculum design or work directly with students — one difference that attracts teachers tired of spending nights and weekends on lesson plans, Smiley said. Experts teach six-week “expeditions” — deep dives into topics in multiple subject areas. 

A humanities expert, Anskis has taught a unit on fashion history and blended English and current events into an expedition on . Class discussions focused on “And Tango Makes Three,” about two male penguins raising a chick, and “Maus,” a graphic novel on the Holocast that was recently . Students researched why some groups might be opposed to the books and read the banned titles with their parents’ permission. 

Class sizes are small — 10 to 12 students — and Anskis said she can take a walk when she wants. 

“I have so much more control over my life,” she said.

But not every teacher who has left the classroom during the pandemic set out to pursue new opportunities. Some felt pushed out.

Shatera Weaver was the dean of culture at Metropolitan Expeditionary Learning School, a New York City public school in Queens, where worked as an adviser for middle and high school students.

Originally granted an exemption from the city’s vaccine mandate because she has sickle cell anemia, Weaver learned in October that her accommodation would not be renewed. She was among the 1,400 New York City employees without pay because they were unvaccinated. 

Now she’s designing curriculum for EL Education, a nonprofit that provides English language arts materials and teacher training. She also teaches yoga for a nonprofit, and strangely finds herself leading movement classes for young children in a public school. 

“I have been quite unhappy. I miss my purpose-fulfilling job, and feel guilt for leaving — though it was out of my control,” she said. “I do not enjoy working from home. I miss the in-person connection and collaboration.”

Weaver hopes to join those who have launched new schools and wants to design either a public or private program for Black students — “much like an HBCU, but the grade school version.”

Teachers in alternative models said they appreciate the freedom to bring their own interests and personality to instruction. Long, in New Hampshire, took her six students — including her own two children — on a ski trip during the winter. Her program includes outdoor excursions for science and nature writing.

“I feel passionate about the ability to try new things and not be shot down,” she said. 

This fall, she’s joining a former middle school science teacher to expand the program to 15 children. And she refers other teachers to informational sessions on Prenda, which the state supports through . 

“I don’t want to turn families away,” she said, “and I don’t want to be the Prenda monopoly in town.”

Join ĂŰĚŇÓ°ĘÓ and VELA Education Fund for a virtual conversation about why teachers leave the classroom to launch nontraditional education programs Wednesday, June 15, at 1 p.m. ET. .

Disclosure: The Walton Family Foundation provides funding to the 74 and the VELA Education Fund, which has supported Prenda.