A school principal addresses parents during a monthly meeting.
Credit: Allison Shelley for EDUimages
As upcoming national elections loom, there is a concerning overshadowing of local political engagement.
City councils, school boards and local commissions significantly shape our daily lives, particularly affecting our children’s future. Local elections are crucial as they directly impact essential services like water, sewer, garbage collection and infrastructure maintenance such as roadways, park systems, bike trails, and sidewalks. On top of that, local governments regulate zoning, permits and land use, profoundly molding our communities’ development and quality of life.
My journey advocating for my daughter’s safety at school propelled me into local advocacy through school site councils and, eventually, as a mayoral appointee to my city’s Commission United for Racial Equity. You’re not alone if “site council” doesn’t ring a bell for you. Four years ago, I found myself in the same position. Site councils are the mechanism districts use to engage parents, caregivers and the broader community in pursuing an equitable educational experience for students.
When my daughter started first grade, a visceral moment fortified my intention to engage in local politics. I’d given our then 6-year-old daughter a phone watch for safety and comfort. I soon learned that electronic devices are not allowed on a student’s person during the school day and must remain inside their backpacks. I felt the policy defeated the device’s purpose. I had a series of terse but kind conversations with the school about the importance of my child always wearing the watch. The school did not budge.
In a burst of frustration, I stormed into the living room, tossing freshly printed pages at my husband. “What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing my anger.
“You’re going to the school office today and using that white privilege,” I demanded. As a multiracial couple in a predominantly white district, I felt my identity as a Black woman might hinder progress, so I urged my husband to take action. “I’ve already prepared everything you need to say,” I added sharply. Standing over me, he embraced me as I broke into tears, then took on the task as requested.
My husband reiterated to the school, ad nauseam, my concerns about the rampant threat of school shootings in the U.S. and the imperative for constant communication with my child, emphasizing our proactive measures such as relocating closer to her school; it’s a 5-minute journey from our front door to the front steps of her school; I could run there in an emergency. The phone watch served as another layer of safety, compelling me to adamantly push for a revision of the policy on electronic devices. As parents, we are our children’s foremost advocates, necessitating relentless advocacy, always.
In California, site councils play a crucial role in schools by conducting assessments recommending equitable uses of federal funds to meet the educational needs of our students, reviewing school safety plans, and partnering in the development of schools’ plans for student achievement.
Parents must understand the importance of participating in these spaces to support effective decision-making and their children’s safety and academic and personal growth. I just finished year three as a site council member and have learned a great deal about the policies and practices that govern our children’s educational experience. Many site council members proceed to serve on school boards or in city leadership, as I have with my city’s Commission United for Racial Equity, where we shape the long-term policies and practices that impact our community.
In my home of Benicia, community engagement with the site council process continues to yield tangible outcomes. This has led to integrating professional development opportunities, encompassing restorative practices, implicit bias training, and social justice at both district and site levels. Additionally, diversity, equity, inclusion and belonging have been integrated into the district’s accountability plan, alongside construction efforts undertaken to enhance the safety and accessibility of the physical environment. Finally, revisions to the classroom curriculum and the school library have been made to ensure a comprehensive representation of history’s diversity.
You have the power to engage as a parent, caregiver or concerned community member. Start by contacting your principal for the site council’s meeting schedule. These meetings are open to the public, and agendas are provided in advance, allowing you time to prepare thoughtful questions or comments on topics that directly impact your child’s educational journey.
And if you are wondering, yes, my daughter’s school site changed the electronic device policy, and she has worn her phone watch to school every day for the last five years: Parental engagement and advocacy works.
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Amira K.S. Barger is an adjunct professor at California State University, East Bay and works on diversity, equity and inclusion and communications at a consulting firm.
The opinions expressed in this commentary represent those of the author. EdSource welcomes commentaries representing diverse points of view. If you would like to submit a commentary, please review our guidelines and contact us.
Shasta College serves students in Shasta, Tehama and Trinity counties.
A new study detailing how California colleges often overlook the value of students who drop out explains what colleges can do to help these students, called “comebackers,” complete their degree successfully.
“If you didn’t make it, it’s your fault. If you want to come back, good luck to you,” said Su Jin Jez, CEO of California Competes, about the convoluted process that comebackers go through to re-enroll in college.
Based on interviews with over 50 students who returned to college and successfully completed their degree at Sacramento State and Shasta College, the report released on Feb. 5 identified factors that may impede a student’s attempt to return to college, including owing for overdue library books and parking, having to redo the entire enrollment process and being disqualified for financial aid because of poor grades from years prior.
Overlooking these students has major implications, not just for students themselves but for the state’s economy, the report states. Students without a degree or certificate may not be able to make progress in the workplace, and in turn, employers won’t be able to find qualified workers. Jez said reaching these students can stimulate economic growth.
Jennifer Liberty, one of the co-researchers who helped design the study, is a comebacker herself; she is now working on a master’s degree in psychology.
Other reasons contributing to students dropping out of college are having to work, taking care of children or family members, as well as institutional barriers like a loss of financial aid or an inflexible schedule — all of which may make balancing school with other priorities a struggle.
Comebackers bring ‘so many skills’
The report urges colleges to offer more flexibility in classes, do more to encourage students to return and reframe how comebackers are viewed.
The conversation about students who stop attending college tends to be framed around their problems, said Buffy Tanner, director of innovation and special projects at Shasta College. They are discussed as students who lack recent academic experience, who have rusty math skills or have financial aid issues.
“The reality is they come to us with so many skills,” Tanner said during a webinar on the report.
People who stop coming to school typically have a lot of work experience that other kinds of students lack. They know how to work in groups and how to work for different bosses; they have professional experience; and sometimes professional development. These are all assets in college, Tanner said.
Many comebackers may give up their studies after their grades start to slip and they are put on what is often called “academic probation.” The report recommends using language that isn’t associated with criminality.
“‘Academic probation’ sounds like, ‘You are a criminal, and we are going to keep an eye on you,’” Jez said.
The report also recommends offering extra support to comebackers who struggle academically. Many of those who left on academic probation said that they were not offered help and that the term itself made them feel like they weren’t cut out for college.
Tanner said focusing on the needs of students who return to college after stopping has benefits for the broader population of students because they would also benefit from more flexible class schedules, such as classes that are offered outside the traditional workday.
Restructured academic calendars could also benefit other kinds of students. The report recommends offering shorter, more frequent classes, such as an eight-week intensive program, in contrast to a longer 16-week program, or a fall or spring term. This makes it easier for students to fit classes into their schedule and gives them more opportunities to jump into college.
Enrollment at California’s community colleges has not fully rebounded from the pandemic, Jez noted. This pool of students with some college experience but no degree or certificate is potent as the state faces its big goals around issues such as climate change and housing.
“We can’t meet our goals,” Jez said, “unless we allow marginalized people to access and complete college degrees.”
A 2022 study by the Rand Corporation found that nearly every school district in America had to combine or cancel classes or ask teachers to take on additional duties due to a nationwide shortage of teachers.
The US has struggled with shortages for decades, but the pandemic worsened the problem, according to the Learning Policy Institute, with teachers citing online teaching and disruptive student behavior as reasons why they are leaving the profession.
Join EdSource reporter Diana Lambert on Wednesday, March 6 at 3:30 p.m. for a Reddit AMA focused on the nationwide teacher shortage, why teachers are leaving and what leaders are doing to bring educators into classrooms. Not a Reddit user? Create an account here.
An AMA, which stands for “Ask Me Anything” is a crowdsourced interview. The interviewee begins the process by starting a post describing who they are and what they do. Then commenters from across the internet leave questions and can vote on other questions according to which they would like to see answered.
The interviewee can go through and reply to the questions they find interesting and easily see those questions the internet is dying to have the answer to. Because the internet is asking the questions, they’re going to be a mix of serious and lighthearted, and interviewees will end up sharing all sorts of things you won’t find in a normal interview.
Improving literacy instruction is once again in fashion among America’s policy circles. Between 2019 and 2022, state legislatures passed more than 200 bills that sought to push and pull public schools to embrace the “science of reading.”
But one year into closely following a big city school district’s effort to remake literacy instruction as part of a project with the Center on Reinventing Public Education, I can’t help but think these well-intended legislative efforts ignore the larger problem: teachers working alone in their classrooms are ill-positioned on their own to provide the support children most need to learn to read.
CRPE’s report on this project suggests that addressing the literacy crisis requires more than papering over the harms of bad curricula. It means rethinking the traditional teaching model, long a hallmark of public education in the United States, that leaves one adult in charge of supporting 25 or more children who arrive with wildly different levels of preparation and uneven or absent literacy support at home.
Thanks to the work of organizations like The Oakland REACH and the Oakland NAACP, the Oakland Unified School District started quietly overhauling its approach to literacy instruction two years ago. That work involved familiar investments in new curriculum and professional development.
But the real stars of the strategy were early literacy tutors, community members — including parents and grandparents — who were trained and paid to support small groups of students working to develop foundational literacy skills.
Thanks to the investment in early literacy tutors, Oakland schools were able to offer significantly more targeted and differentiated instruction than they would have otherwise. One school we visited used an “all hands on deck” approach that leveraged eight classroom teachers, two tutors, and two non-classroom educators to ensure that every student was getting the targeted literacy instruction they needed. Another school described using tutors to support literacy instruction in a first-second combination class, where students’ instructional needs varied by multiple grade levels.
In interviews, teachers and principals alike described the importance of having an additional adult to support reading instruction. A teacher we spoke to said having a trained tutor in her classroom meant she could support five literacy groups instead of two and provide extra support to children who were furthest behind. Without the tutor, this teacher said she would have had to rely more on whole-group direct instruction, pushing children who didn’t yet know their letter sounds to learn alongside those already reading.
A parent contrasted her child’s experience in an Oakland school supported by a tutor with her own experience: “I think back to when I was in school. If you were behind where the class was, you were really left behind, or if you were ahead, then maybe you were bored and your mind was wandering and you weren’t paying attention. I feel like with (early literacy tutors) … (students) get special time with an adult who is working with them. And I think that is really impactful.”
Importantly, in shouldering some of the work of literacy instruction, early literacy tutors provided a critical well of support for beleaguered educators, whose jobs have become ever more difficult coming out of the pandemic. Increasing behavioral challenges, an attendance crisis and larger variation in students’ learning needs are putting extraordinary demands on teachers at a time when public attitudes about work and the prestige of teaching are also evolving and eroding teachers’ commitment to their jobs.
Early literacy tutors could meaningfully help shoulder the load of reading instruction in large part because they were fully integrated into the district’s larger strategy around literacy. Unlike other tutoring programs that largely operate on the periphery of schools, Oakland’s early literacy tutors worked hand-in-hand with school staff charged with supporting literacy instruction.
Two years after they embarked on the new strategy, Oakland can’t yet claim to have solved the literacy problem, but there are glimmers of hope. Our study found that students who had access to evidence-based, differentiated literacy instruction — whether tutor- or teacher-provided — made statistically significant learning gains in reading and these gains were especially large in kindergarten. These results were achieved despite the fact that schools told us they needed additional tutors to fully optimize small-group reading instruction. Imagine what might be possible if every child had access to differentiated instruction that met their individual needs.
Expecting teachers, working alone in their classrooms, to provide both all the individualized support students most need was probably always a fool’s errand; continuing to embrace it as students struggle and deal with the lifelong consequences of illiteracy is simply irresponsible. As schools look to make up ground lost during the pandemic, those that support them should understand the limitations that come with investing too little into the effort.
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Ashley Jochimis a principal at the Center on Reinventing Public Education, where her research focuses on identifying opportunities and obstacles to addressing systemic challenges in K-12 schools.She co-authored a report on the organization’s work in Oakland Unified School District.
The opinions in this commentary are those of the author. If you would like to submit a commentary, please review our guidelines and contact us.
In case you wondered, I now call DOGE something else. I call it DOGS, although truthfully that’s not fair to dogs. Dogs are wonderful creatures; In my experience, dogs give you unconditional loyalty and love. These DOGS are loyal to one man, Elon Musk. They are shredding the federal government, destroying the careers and lives of tens of thousands of professional civil servants. They have gathered our personal data. They are embedded in high-level positions across the government. They should all be fired and sent back to Elon Musk.
But the bigger risk to our democracy is Russell Vought, Director of the Office of Management and Budget, one of the most powerful positions in the federal government. He is a self-proclaimed Christian nationalist. He is working in opposition to the Founding Fathers, who made clear their intention to keep religion out of government.
Though Elon Musk is leaving the White House, DOGE isn’t going anywhere.
It appears that Russell Vought — Trump’s budget hawk and one of the chief architects of the Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025 — is stepping in to become DOGE’s new power broker.
With Vought, a self-described Christian nationalist, at the helm, the slash-and-burn effort against the federal government may be on the cusp of an even darker turn.
In many ways, Vought is what Musk is not. After working at public policy organizations for nearly two decades, he has a far better understanding of how the government works — and how its weaknesses can be exploited. Despite advising Trump for almost 10 years, he’s also kept a fairly low profile, rarely giving interviews or speaking in public.
And Vought appears to be motivated first and foremost by creating a Christian nation controlled by an overtly Christian government.
Last year, Vought told undercover journalists with the Centre for Climate Reporting that he wants “to make sure that we can say we are a Christian nation.”
“And my viewpoint is mostly that I would probably be Christian nation-ism,” Vought said. “That’s pretty close to Christian nationalism because I also believe in nationalism.”
To achieve that, Vought said in the interview he seeks to replace the non-partisan and merit-based federal civil service with a bureaucracy in which employment hinges on allegiance to Trump. He said he also seeks to impound congressionally approved funding, help coordinate mass deportations and find ways to let Trump use the military to put down protesters.
As former Trump adviser Steve Bannon recently told The Atlantic, “Russ has got a vision. He’s not an anarchist. He’s a true believer.”
Federal agencies, in particular the Office of Personnel Management (OPM), have already implemented numerous policies that Vought drafted to achieve those goals.
Earlier this year, OPM proposed new regulations that would formally revive Schedule F, a key tool developed by Vought to gut the federal government and replace career public servants with partisan ideologues.
In another move championed by Vought, the personnel office last week also announced a s0-called “Merit Hiring Plan” that would, if implemented, ask prospective hires for the thousands of DOGE-induced vacancies across the federal government to write short essays explaining their levels of patriotism and support for the president’s policies.
“How would you help advance the President’s Executive Orders and policy priorities in this role? Identify one or two relevant Executive Orders or policy initiatives that are significant to you, and explain how you would help implement them if hired,” reads one of the essay prompts.
Vought, too, has recently taken steps to impound funds.
This week, the White House sent Congress proposed spending cuts — also called a rescission package — that’s been backed by Vought in order to formalize cuts made by DOGE. The $9.4 billion package targets funding for NPR, PBS, the U.S. Agency for International Development and other foreign aid spending.
The rescission process allows a president to avoid spending money on discretionary programs, and since rescission bills only require simple majority approval in the House and Senate, there’s a chance some of the proposed cuts will become law. If they do, they will be the first presidentially proposed rescissions accepted by Congress since 1999.
If Congress doesn’t pass the package, the 1974 Impoundment Control Act, which restricts when and how the president can delay or withhold federal funds, requires Trump to release the funds — that’s assuming that the administration follows the law.
The same day the White House sent Congress the package, Vought threatened that if lawmakers don’t pass the rescissions, the executive branch would find ways to override Congress’ constitutional authority to allocate funding.
“We are dusting off muscle memory that existed for 200 years before President Nixon in the 1970s and Congress acted to try to take away the president’s ability to spend less,” Vought said.
When asked by CNN whether he was attempting to tee up a legal fight to challenge the Impoundment Control Act as unconstitutional, Vought implied he was.
“We’re certainly not taking impoundment off of the table. We’re not in love with the law,” Vought said.
Kindergartners paint a mural at Ellen Ochoa Learning Center in LAUSD.
Credit: Courtesy of Nightflare
Marcos Hernandez lived in a garage for years when he first came to this country from El Salvador as a refugee at age 11. He left his small pueblo of San Gerardo alone, fleeing a country ravaged by war, seeking a better life.
“After you’ve been hungry, after you’ve been bombed and you have survived so many times, you build up this belief that I must be here for a purpose,” said Hernandez, a soft-spoken man with an understated manner that belies his heroic life story. “There must be a reason. And you just try to follow that. I am here to serve my community.”
That’s why he’s devoted his career to lifting the lives of children in Cudahy, a tiny, densely populated, and tightly knit city near the Los Angeles River and the 710 freeway, where roughly a third of the population lives below the poverty line. Hernandez went on to become the principal of a school, the Ellen Ochoa Learning Center, just a few blocks from the garage he once called home.
“This is the poorest city west of the Mississippi River,” says Hernandez, who is candid about his struggles. “I failed most of my classes my first year because I worked the graveyard shift. Almost everyone on my block belonged to a gang. Getting in and out of that community was hard. There was always somebody waiting to jump me because I didn’t want to join the gang.”
Marcos Hernandez, principal, leading an arts education project at Ellen Ochoa Learning Center in LAUSD.Courtesy Marcos Hernandez
Poverty is often generational. Hernandez understands the lingering trauma it leaves behind. He will never forget living in that garage, only being allowed to enter the main house and use the bathroom at certain times of day.
“It was rough, but after a while, you train your body,” he says, matter-of-factly.
Overcoming adversity with grace is in his bones. He doesn’t dwell on his own hardships, which include battling cancer, but he certainly understands the power of resilience. When he works with families in his district, he knows how hard they fight to keep their heads above water. Most of the parents at Ellen Ochoa did not finish high school, but all want better for their children, many of whom are English language learners.
“There are patterns of oppression that our students experience,” says Hernandez, a father of three who radiates patience and calm. “It’s this perpetual cycle where they just don’t have the opportunities that kids in other communities have. I want to raise that bar. The thing that I have always said, that I try to live by every day, is whatever kids in Malibu, kids in Palos Verdes, have access to, I want kids here to have.”
That’s where arts education comes in. He sees the arts as a path to equity, a way to help children heal from the scars left by grinding poverty. That’s the vision of Turnaround Arts: California, an arts education program founded by famed architect Frank Gehry and education advocate Malissa Shriver that transforms the state’s lowest-performing schools through the arts.
“We’re talking about human beings, not data points and test scores,” said Shriver. “People have thought the arts were like a cherry on top. And instead, we’re actually the undergirding of it all. We’re not the extra, we’re the foundation.”
Affiliated with the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washngton, D.C., the project has reached 35,000 students in 33 elementary and middle schools across the state in the last 10 years, and hopes are high that Proposition 28, the state’s new arts education mandate, will help fuel expansion.
“It’s a huge driver to ensure more equity so that we’re not relying on parent fundraising to decide who gets the arts in schools,” said Turnaround’s executive director, Barbara Palley. “One thing that we’re excited about is it would open the path for more schools that are interested in Turnaround Arts.”
Hernandez believes the children who are least likely to be exposed to the arts are those who need it the most. Most schools that participate in this program see gains in both reading and math, a finding that tracks with exhaustive evidence that the arts boost academic achievement as well as spark engagement.
“My specialty is supporting students who are struggling,” he says. “They need a second chance or a third chance to get them going. Because that was me. This education thing wasn’t in my mind at all. It wasn’t on my radar. I needed money.”
His childhood was often grueling, working in the fields at the age of 10, becoming a dishwasher at 12, but he has never wavered in his love of people, his desire to make a difference in the world. When his father questioned why he’d give up a solid job as a restaurant manager to go to college, he stuck to his guns.
“You should have seen his face. He was kind of happy for me, but he couldn’t understand why you’d leave a good job,” he recalls. “It clicked for me at that age that the more that we could push ourselves, the more we could have an impact on future generations.”
A mural painted by students at Ellen Ochoa Learning Center in LAUSD.Credit: Courtesy of Nightflare
That’s the level of dedication he has brought to his work at Ellen Ochoa, and he plans to bring the same tenacity to his new assignment as principal of nearby International Studies Learning Center at Legacy High School. While he says it will be hard to walk away from Ellen Ochoa, where he has watched the arts bolster academics and curb misbehavior, he feels certain the work will continue.
“It’s not about me as an individual,” he says with characteristic humility. “It’s a collective project; it belongs to the community. They own it.”
Covid hit the district hard. The school quickly became a community hub, providing thousands of meals, Covid tests and vaccinations for those in need.
Hernandez has used the arts as a tool to help rebuild a sense of community, an appreciation of togetherness, coming out of the pandemic. The students have formed an orchestra, they’ve painted murals, and they’ve even designed buildings with the renowned Gehry.
“This is their land. This is their community,” says Hernandez. “When you walk by with your family and you look at the beautiful murals and you say, you know what? I did that. That creates incredible pride for our students.”
His secret weapon is empathy. He treats everyone like family, taking time to get to know children as people as well as students.
A mural painted by kindergarten students at Ellen Ochoa Learning Center in LAUSD.Credit: Courtesy of Nightflare
“Marcos cares for every family member and every child like his own,” said Alison Yoshimoto-Towery, executive director of the UC/CSU Collaborative for Neuroscience, Diversity and Learning. “He’s probably done over 500 home visits to learn about the hopes and dreams of his families, and to build trust with the community.”
Giving back is a way of life for Hernandez. He’s an activist as well as an educator. He often rides his bike to work from Long Beach, and along the way, he gives necessities to those living on the bike path by the river.
“He’s a humble-servant type of leader,” says Shriver. “He’s not climbing over people to get to the next position. … There’s no ego there. He treats everybody with a lot of dignity. That’s why he’s such a tremendous leader and also just effective.”
Education isn’t a job for him — it’s a calling. He works nights, weekends, and even during vacations to engage his students in activities that stimulate hearts as well as minds, from running marathons to painting murals.
“That’s my passion,” he says simply. “That’s my purpose, my purpose is to serve.”
June 8, 2025, by Dean Hoke: Intercollegiate athletics occupy a powerful and unique place in American higher education—something unmatched in any other country. From the massive media contracts of Division I football to the community pride surrounding NAIA and NJCAA basketball, college sports are a defining feature of the American academic landscape. Unlike most nations, where elite athletic development happens in clubs or academies, the U.S. integrates competitive sports directly into its college campuses.
This model is more than tradition; it’s an engine of opportunity. For many high school students—especially those from underserved backgrounds—the chance to play college sports shapes where they apply, enroll, and succeed. According to the NCAA, 35% of high school athletes say the ability to participate in athletics is a key factor in their college decision [1]. It’s not just about scholarships; it’s about identity, community, and believing their talents matter.
At smaller colleges and two-year institutions, athletics often serves as a key enrollment driver and differentiator in a crowded marketplace. International students, too, are drawn to the American system for its academic-athletic fusion, contributing tuition revenue and global prestige. Undermining this model through sweeping changes to federal financial aid, without considering the downstream effects, risks more than athletic participation. It threatens a distinctively American approach to education, access, and aspiration.
A New Threshold with Big Impacts
Currently, students taking 12 credit hours per semester are considered full-time and eligible for the maximum Pell Grant, which stands at $7,395 for 2024-25 [2]. The proposed House budget raises this threshold to 15 credit hours per semester. For student-athletes, whose schedules are already packed with training, competition, and travel, this shift could be devastating.
NCAA academic standards require student-athletes to maintain full-time enrollment (typically 12 hours) and make satisfactory academic progress [3]. Adding another three credit hours per term may force many to choose between academic integrity, athletic eligibility, and physical well-being. In sports like basketball, where teams frequently travel for games, or in demanding STEM majors, completing 15 credit hours consistently can be a formidable challenge.
Financial Impact on Student-Athletes
Key Proposed Changes Affecting Student-Athletes:
Pell Grant Reductions: The proposed budget aims to cut the maximum Pell Grant by $1,685, reducing it to $5,710 for the 2026–27 academic year. Additionally, eligibility criteria would become more stringent, requiring students to enroll in at least 15 credit hours per semester to qualify for full-time awards. These changes could result in approximately 700,000 students losing Pell Grant eligibility [4].
Elimination of Subsidized Loans: The budget proposes eliminating subsidized federal student loans, which currently do not accrue interest while a student is in school. This change would force students to rely more on unsubsidized loans or private lending options, potentially increasing their debt burden [5].
Cuts to Work-Study and SEOG Programs: The Federal Work-Study program and Supplemental Educational Opportunity Grants (SEOG) are slated for significant reductions or elimination. These programs provide essential financial support to low-income students, and their removal could affect over 1.6 million students [6].
Institutional Risk-Sharing: A new provision would require colleges to repay a portion of defaulted student loans, introducing a financial penalty for institutions with high default rates. This could strain budgets, especially at smaller colleges with limited resources [7].
Figure 1: Total student-athletes by national athletic organization (NCAA, NAIA, NJCAA).
While Figure 1 highlights the total number of student-athletes in each organization, Figure 2 illustrates how deeply athletics is embedded in different types of institutions. NAIA colleges have the highest ratio, with student-athletes comprising 39% of undergraduate enrollment. Division III institutions follow at approximately 8.42%, and the NJCAA—serving mostly commuter and low-income students—relies on athletics for 8.58% of its total student base [8].
Even Division I, with its large student populations, includes a meaningful share (2.49%) of student-athletes. These proportions underscore how vital athletics are to institutional identity, especially in small colleges and two-year schools where athletes often make up a significant portion of campus life, retention strategy, and tuition revenue.
Figure 2: Percentage of student-athletes among total undergraduate enrollment by organization (NCAA Divisions I–III, NAIA, NJCAA).
The Pell Grant Profile: Who’s Affected
Pell Grants support students with the greatest financial need. According to a 2018 report, approximately 31.3% of Division I scholarship athletes receive Pell Grants. At individual institutions like Ohio State, the share is even higher: 47% of football players and over 50% of women’s basketball players. In the broader NCAA system, over 48% of athletes received some form of federal need-based aid in recent years [9].
There are approximately 665,000 student-athletes attending college. The NCAA reports that more than 520,000 student-athletes currently participate in championship-level intercollegiate athletics across Divisions I, II, and III [10]. The National Association of Intercollegiate Athletics (NAIA) oversees approximately 83,000 student-athletes [11], while the National Junior College Athletic Association (NJCAA) supports around 60,000 student-athletes at two-year colleges [12].
The NAIA and NJCAA systems, which serve many first-generation, low-income, and minority students, also have a high reliance on Pell Grant support. However, exact figures are less widely published.
The proposed redefinition of “full-time” means many of these students could lose up to $1,479 per year in aid, based on projections from policy experts [13]. For low-income students, this gap often determines whether they can afford to continue their education.
Fewer Credits, Fewer Dollars: Academic and Athletic Risks
Another major concern is how aid calculations based on “completed” credit hours will penalize students who drop a class mid-semester or fail a course. Even if a student-athlete enrolls in 15 credits, failing or withdrawing from a single 3-credit course could drop their award amount [14]. This adds pressure to persist in academically unsuitable courses, potentially hurting long-term academic outcomes.
Athletic departments, already burdened by compliance and recruitment pressures, may face added strain. Advisors will need to help students navigate increasingly complex eligibility and aid requirements, shifting focus from performance and development to credit-hour management.
Disproportionate Effects on Small Colleges and Non-Revenue Sports
The brunt of these changes will fall hardest on small, tuition-dependent institutions in the NCAA Division II, Division III, NAIA, and NJCAA. These colleges often use intercollegiate athletics as a strategic enrollment tool. At some NAIA schools, student-athletes comprise 40% to 60% of the undergraduate population [8].
Unlike large Division I schools that benefit from lucrative media contracts and booster networks, these institutions rely on a patchwork of tuition, modest athletic scholarships, and federal aid to keep programs running. A reduction in Pell eligibility could drive enrollment declines, lead to cuts in athletic offerings, and even force some colleges to close sports programs or entire campuses.
Already, schools like San Francisco State University, Cleveland State, and Mississippi College have recently announced program eliminations, citing budgetary constraints [15]. NJCAA institutions—the two-year colleges serving over 85,000 student-athletes—also face a precarious future under this proposed budget.
Economic Importance by Division
Division I: Athletics departments generated nearly $17.5 billion in total revenue in 2022, with $11.2 billion self-generated and $6.3 billion subsidized by institutional/government support or student fees [16]. Many Power Five schools are financially resilient, with revenue from TV contracts, merchandise, and ticket sales.
Division II: Median revenue for schools with football was around $6.9 million, but generated athletic revenue averaged only $528,000, leading to significant deficits subsidized by institutional funds [17].
Division III: Division III schools operate on leaner budgets, with no athletic scholarships and total athletics budgets often under $3 million per school. These programs are typically funded like other academic departments [18].
NAIA and NJCAA: These schools rely heavily on student-athlete enrollment to sustain their institutions. Athletics are not profit centers but recruitment and retention tools. Without Pell Grants, many of these athletes cannot afford to enroll [11][12].
Figure 3: Estimated number of NAIA, Division III, and NJCAA programs by state.
Unintended Tradeoffs: Equity and Resource Redistribution
Attempting to offset lost federal aid by reallocating institutional grants could result in aid being shifted away from non-athletes. This risks eroding equity goals, as well as provoking internal tension on campuses where athletes are perceived to receive preferential treatment.
Without new revenue sources, institutions may also raise tuition or increase tuition discounting, potentially compromising their financial stability. In essence, colleges may be forced to choose who gets to stay in school.
The High-Stakes Gamble for Student-Athletes
Figure 4: Estimated impact of Pell Grant changes on student-athletes, including projected dropouts and loan default rates.
For many student-athletes, especially those from low-income backgrounds, the Pell Grant is not just helpful—it’s essential. It makes the dream of attending college, competing in athletics, and earning a degree financially feasible. If the proposed changes to Pell eligibility become law, an estimated 50,000 student-athletes could be forced to drop out, unable to meet the new credit-hour requirements or fill the funding gap [19]. Those who remain may have no choice but to take on additional loans, risking long-term debt for a degree they may never complete. The reality is sobering: Pell recipients already face long-term student loan default rates as high as 27%, and for those who drop out, that figure climbs above 40% [20]. Stripping away vital support will almost certainly drive those numbers higher. The consequences won’t stop with individual students. Colleges—particularly smaller, tuition-dependent institutions where athletes make up a significant share of enrollment—stand to lose not just revenue, but the very programs and communities that give purpose to their campuses.
Colleges, athletic associations, policymakers, and communities must work together to safeguard opportunity. Student-athletes should never be forced to choose between academic success and financial survival. Preserving access to both education and athletics isn’t just about individual futures—it’s about upholding a uniquely American pathway to achievement and equity.
Dean Hoke is Managing Partner of Edu Alliance Group, a higher education consultancy. He formerly served as President/CEO of the American Association of University Administrators (AAUA). With decades of experience in higher education leadership, consulting, and institutional strategy, he brings a wealth of knowledge on small colleges’ challenges and opportunities. Dean is the Executive Producer and co-host for the podcast series Small College America.
Congressional Budget Office. (2025). Reconciliation Recommendations of the House Committee on Education and the Workforce. Retrieved from https://www.cbo.gov/publication/61412
NJCAA, NAIA, and NCAA. (2023). Student-Athlete Participation Reports.
Middle school history teachers discuss their lesson plans for teaching about the Great Depression.
Credit: Allison Shelley / American Education
Twenty-five years ago, when pastor Sweetie Williams asked his 12-year-old son, Eli, why he never had homework, the answer exposed scandalous conditions that would reshape California education forever. Eli’s San Francisco middle school — like many of the 20% of California public schools then serving the greatest number of Black, Latino and low-income students — lacked books, operating bathrooms, proper heating and enough qualified teachers to permanently staff classrooms. The historic litigation that followed in May 2000, Williams v. California, established new laws guaranteeing every student three fundamental rights: permanent, qualified teachers; sufficient instructional materials; and clean, safe facilities.
Today, as Assembly Bill 1224 (Valencia) races toward a Senate hearing, we’re witnessing some of the same staffing chaos that prompted the Williams lawsuit. In the West Contra Costa Unified School District, parent Darrell Washington watched his rising fifth grader endure what he called “a chaotic game of musical chairs” with two or three different teachers in a single year. At Stege Elementary, third grade teacher Sam Cleare saw students arrive in her classroom, where she was often “their first credentialed teacher for the entire year.”
In response to teacher shortages, are legislators rising to meet the challenge? Are they grappling with how to raise teacher compensation and improve working conditions to attract and retain educators? Are they seeking to compel those districts stuck on autopilot to do more to recruit new teachers or to place in the classroom their fully certified staff who aren’t currently teaching before turning to short-term substitutes? No.
The principal response of legislators has been AB 1224, which would double the time untrained substitute teachers can remain in any one classroom — from 30 to 60 days, a full third of the school year. The bill thereby lowers teacher standards for the state’s most disadvantaged students, essentially abandoning our children’s rights to equal educational opportunity to accommodate district requests for administrative convenience.
When a teacher vacancy exists, districts are supposed to prioritize assigning the most qualified candidates: fully credentialed teachers first, then interns who have the subject matter training but are still learning how to teach it, followed by emergency-style permits that allow those with partial subject matter competence and teacher training to teach for the year under close supervision, and finally waivers, which permit individuals to teach for a year by waiving unmet certification requirements with state approval if the district can demonstrate the candidate is the best person available.
Williams requires all classrooms to be staffed by a single, designated permanent teacher who is at least minimally certified to teach the whole year, according to one of these bases. That puts the onus on districts to figure out well before the school year begins how they will staff each classroom with a state-qualified teacher.
Thirty-day substitutes — those affected by AB 1224 — are nowhere in this hierarchy precisely because they are not qualified to serve as the teacher of record for any classroom. They receive zero subject matter training and zero instruction on how to teach a subject, so they have no understanding of lesson planning, classroom management, assessing learning, or differentiating learning for special ed students or English learners. They’re educational placeholders, not teachers.
Teachers represent the single most important school-based factor in learning outcomes. When we park unqualified staff in classrooms for months, we’re not solving teacher shortages; we’re creating educational voids that harm student progress for years to come. Our students need qualified educators who provide continuity, expertise and genuine care, not “continuity” with unqualified caretakers.
Statewide teacher assignment data reveals exactly how this policy will worsen existing inequities. While 84% of California’s teachers are fully trained, this drops to just 76% in districts serving working-class communities like West Contra Costa, but rises to 89% in affluent areas.
Schools serving larger populations of low-income students, English learners and foster children are already twice as likely to rely on emergency-style permits. AB 1224 will systematically widen these gaps, exacerbating a two-tiered system where privileged students get qualified teachers while vulnerable students get warm bodies.
Meanwhile, AB 1224’s “accountability” measures provide legislative lip service. The bill relies on existing legal requirements that districts make “reasonable efforts” to recruit more qualified personnel before turning to long-term substitutes. Yet we know from our experiences with West Contra Costa Unified and elsewhere that districts typically make no particular efforts if an obvious candidate is not already in front of them and there is no outside enforcement of the hiring hierarchy. AB 1224 does nothing to change this. The bill does not define “reasonable,” has no documentation requirements, and has no oversight or accountability measures.
And while this same expanded access to substitutes was temporarily allowed during the pandemic, frankly, the whole system was in chaos then, and many virtual classrooms were providing little more than day care, even with qualified teachers. Yet, AB 1224 provides no sunset date like that exception did. To the contrary, the pending proposal is for a permanentchange in law, a permanent authorized dilution of instructional quality, a permanent permission for districts to avoid the hard work of recruiting and retaining qualified educators — all to be disproportionately visited upon the most disadvantaged students in the state.
The response to teacher shortages must not be to lower standards, but the opposite. As if our collective hair were on fire, the state and districts need to be doubling down on bringing back the fully certified teachers who have left the classroom (more than enough to cover the shortages). Likewise, the state and districts need to work harder to develop the next generation of diverse and fully prepared educators. Since the pandemic, California has invested over $2 billion in evidence-based solutions: the National Board Certification Incentive Program, Golden State Teacher Grant Program, teacher residencies, a grow-your-own program, and Educator Effectiveness grants — all designed to increase supply and retention in high-need schools. The latest annual Teacher Supply Report from the Commission on Teacher Credentialing suggests the state is starting to turn a corner as a result of these efforts. New teaching credentials issued in 2023-24 were up over 18% — the first surge in new credentials since the pandemic in 2020-21.
In the meantime, districts have existing tools: emergency permits for at least provisionally qualified candidates, intern teachers and residents, teachers with permits to cover those on statutory leave, and experienced “career substitutes” who already are allowed to teach in a single classroom for 60 days. And before even turning to these substandard options, districts’ “reasonable efforts” must include returning fully credentialed teachers to a district’s highest priority: classroom instruction. When Superintendent Alberto Carvalho took the helm of the Los Angeles Unified School District (LAUSD) in late 2021, one of his first actions was to fill some 700 vacancies with certified educators who had been serving in the district office and various non-teaching roles.
That’s 700 classrooms and several thousand students’ educational lives that were not sacrificed for administrative convenience. Today’s Eli Williamses deserve no less.
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John Affeldt,who was one of the lead counsels on Williams v. California, is a managing attorney at Public Advocates, a public interest law firm in San Francisco, where he focuses on educational equity issues.
The opinions expressed in this commentary represent those of the author. EdSource welcomes commentaries representing diverse points of view. If you would like to submit a commentary, please review our guidelines and contact us.
But recent research from the California-based Center for Teacher Innovation suggests three effective strategies for supporting new teachers that should be incorporated into all teacher prep and support programs:
Provide dedicated and well-matched coaches. Quality coaches should be at the forefront of beginning teacher support. Numerous studies have indicated that coaching can improve teacher outcomes, including feelings of preparedness and retention. While California requires induction and coaching for all new teachers, many states do not.
When coaching is offered, there are several important considerations. First, there needs to be an intentional match between a coach and the new teacher. Default pairings often rely on aligning teachers and coaches by grade level or subject area. But depending on program size, that may not be possible, so programs could consider additional strategies to strengthen the coaching relationships, like matching similar personality traits or professional skills.
Programs should also invest in activities that promote interaction, such as allowing coaches and teachers time to get to know one another, coaches sharing about their qualifications and experiences, and using time to discuss goals for the new teacher. These opportunities build trust between the teacher and coach; but caution, coaching time does not equate to counseling sessions, and priority should remain on professional growth. This can be done through classroom observations, feedback or a host of other effective coaching strategies. Finally, coaches should meet with their teachers frequently — ideally, weekly — to provide consistent check-ins on progress early in the year, when things are most challenging.
Pay attention to curriculum and technology. There are two design structures of induction often overlooked but vital to the beginning teacher experience. Centrally, programs need to carefully craft what they want their new teachers to learn. New teacher curriculum may reiterate central components of pedagogy (e.g., lesson planning, classroom management), but often more specifically, it includes how to adjust what they learned in their teacher preparation program into their specific classroom context. Whether it is considering creative activities to engage students or being culturally responsive, new teachers need to think about how their training applies to their current environment.
Relatedly, programs should consider how new teachers learn this professional content. While it can be conveyed through coaches, programs should think about how technology, in particular, can enhance or detract from teacher development. Learning management systems such as Canvas, Blackboard and Google can be utilized to distribute what new teachers should learn, but must be user-friendly to reliably provide information.
Connect teacher learning. New teachers need to understand how the scope of their professional learning interactions and activities build upon each another. Teacher preparation programs, the district, professional development workshops, their campus and peers are among just some sources that can provide different, sometimes contrary, professional information. It can be challenging for newcomers to understand whom to listen to and how to balance a variety of information. Thus, induction programs should consider how their work complements other programs. Induction program personnel, teacher educators and district administrators need to work together to ensure that each training successively builds upon one another. Otherwise, persistent separation causes inevitable overlap in learning or, worse, contradictory learning.
Along with the three strategies outlined above, induction programs must be accessible and affordable and enhance beginning teachers’ learning, rather than waste time that they don’t have to spare on activities that generally are not beneficial for them.
Beginning teachers need consistent help and a professional village of people to grow and thrive in the profession. School districts, induction programs and others who assist new teachers must incorporate all three of these evidence-based strategies in their programs to ensure that new teachers can develop and ultimately stay in the profession.
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Andrew Kwok is an assistant professor at Texas A&M University and researches teacher preparation and beginning teacher supports.
The opinions in this commentary are those of the author. If you would like to submit a commentary, please review our guidelines and contact us.
Children pose on the steps of Immigrants Development Center of San Francisco in the 1970s.
Credit: San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library
Fifty years ago, the U.S. Supreme Court decided a case that would forever change education for English learners in this country.
In the 1974case Lau v. Nichols, the court decided that students learning English had a right to fully understand what was being taught in their classrooms, and that schools must take steps to make sure that they could, whether through additional instruction in English as a second language or bilingual education.
Prior to the Supreme Court’s decision, the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals had said that San Francisco Unified was not discriminating against students by giving them the same materials and instruction as other students.
Rather, it said the alleged discrimination was “the result of deficiencies created by the children themselves in failing to learn the English language.”
Lucinda Lee KatzCredit: Courtesy of Lucinda Lee Katz
The Supreme Court disagreed. “There is no equality of treatment merely by providing students with the same facilities, textbooks, teachers, and curriculum; for students who do not understand English are effectively foreclosed from any meaningful education,” wrote Justice William O. Douglas in the majority opinion.
The Lau v. Nichols case is named for one of the plaintiffs, a little boy named Kinney Lau, who had recently emigrated from Hong Kong. Kinney Lau’s first grade teacher at Jean Parker Elementary School in San Francisco was Lucinda Lee Katz.
In an interview, Katz shared how this case marked her life, how it changed education for English learners and what remains to be done to give English learners full access to the same instruction as their peers.
This interview was edited for clarity and brevity.
How and why did you get involved with the Lau v. Nichols case?
When I became a teacher, I had Kinney Lau in my first grade classroom. And Mrs. Lau said to me, “Miss Lee, I come from Hong Kong where all the students are exposed to two languages. We can read, write, speak and learn in English and Cantonese. I don’t understand why we can’t do that in San Francisco. Can you help us? Because Kinney is losing his experience with math learning, and I want him to keep up.”
English was the first language of instruction. Sometimes I could interpret or translate, but I knew I was stepping out of my lane when I did that.
Mrs. Lau wanted formal instruction. She said, “I get it if you have to teach English and writing in English, but he’s losing valuable time not understanding math. So could you just teach math in Chinese?
So that was the first conversation. I went home and told my roommates. They were all in law school. And I said, “Can we do something about it?” They took it to (the San Francisco) Neighborhood Legal Assistance (Foundation), and the person who took it on was Ed Steinman. And he took it all the way to the Supreme Court.
What was your own experience in school like as a child, and how did it influence you?
I went through Washington Irving Elementary School, Francisco Middle School and Lowell High School. I had not one Chinese teacher.
My kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Thompson, kept saying, “No Chinese! No Chinese here! No Chinese!” All the kids in the classroom were Chinese and Chinese-speaking. As a kindergartner, I noted that, and I said to myself, “What is she talking about? She’s the only one that can’t speak Chinese, and I don’t get this.” So it stayed in my mind for a very long time.
My father and his father were from China. And in 1882, the Chinese Exclusion Act was the first significant law that was passed by Congress restricting Chinese immigrants. It’s actually one of the most discriminatory laws in the books. Interestingly, the 1906 earthquake fire destroyed all the records in San Francisco. And as a result of that, and because of the discrimination, the Chinese found a way to come over through the “paper sons and daughters” system. So a Mr. Wong who lived in San Francisco and was a citizen could sell his name to somebody in China, and they would pay a lot of money. My father and grandfather came over as “paper sons,” and each of them were named Mr. Wong when their real family name was Lee. And I was Lucinda Wong from birth through eighth grade. Because in the late 1950s, Eisenhower changed the “paper sons and daughters,” so they could apply for naturalization with their real names. So when I was in eighth grade, my principal called me in, and she said, “Lucinda Wong, tomorrow you are going to be Lucinda Lee.”
So I really feel that it was unusual circumstances that brought us all together — that I had Kinney Lau, that Mrs. Lau was this kind of representative, that I understood Mrs. Thompson’s shaking finger at us, “No Chinese here,” the Chinese Exclusion Act, my father’s experience coming over to this country as a “paper son.” (All of this) made me think something has to be done.
How did you and other teachers push for bilingual education, outside of the courts?
I became very active, marching and speaking with parent groups and doing sort of the heavy work between 1969 and 1972. I have a photograph of me speaking before the board, speaking to parents to get them educated and riled up.
I think I basically said we are harming ourselves when children enter our systems and don’t have access to two languages so that they can keep moving forward. That we’re actually handicapping them by making them try to learn English only, when for two or three years, there could be a gradual transition. Secondly, I want teachers trained to understand that the brain can do two cultures, multi-languages, multicultural, and they should be trained. Three, if you have kids that have any kind of learning difference, we should know how to address that and not assume that they’re lacking in English.
The other thing I did was, I brought Chinese culture into Jean Parker School because they didn’t celebrate Chinese New Year, Lunar New Year, nothing. And I said, “You can’t do that. Ninety percent of the kids in the school are from Chinese backgrounds, and you have to understand why they’re dressed the way they are during Lunar New Year, and that it’s a big deal. That’s our main holiday.” And the principal allowed me to have an assembly. But I didn’t tell her that I was bringing in lion dancers and drums, and it got the Chinese kids all riled up and excited.
Do you remember where you were when you heard that the decision finally came down from the Supreme Court?
I was at (the University of Illinois) Urbana-Champaign getting my doctorate. I was in the middle of classes and doing my dissertation. I read it in the paper. My husband said, “Look, there was a Supreme Court decision. They passed that Lau versus Nichols thing.” I said, “Yes!” Everything that was meant to be actually happened. And you know, they were celebrating like crazy here (in San Francisco.)
But you know, there are still problems because it didn’t say how you should do it or that they would give it money. They just said, “Yeah, let’s do it.” So it’s up to every school district to do it in their own way.
Before Lau v. Nichols, San Francisco had some bilingual education, right?
When I went to Commodore Stockton Elementary School, I was hired as a bilingual, bicultural teacher, because San Francisco was trying something new. I applied for the job, and I was snapped up. There were three classrooms. Each of us had classroom assistants who could speak either Cantonese or English. I happened to have gone to Chinese school for 12 years. So I was Cantonese-speaking. It was also the period of school busing. So, in my first year, I had almost all Chinese kids in this bilingual, bicultural classroom. In my second year, I had kids from Noe Valley and the Mission and Hunter’s Point, who would bravely get on the bus ride for half an hour, 45 minutes to come to Commodore Stockton to be in my classroom. They were exposed to both English and Chinese.
How did Lau v. Nichols change bilingual education in California?
Well, what changed in San Francisco specifically was that Gordon Lew, who was the editor of a newspaper in Chinatown, started volunteering to write curriculum for the San Francisco School District in Chinese and in English. That was very amazing.
When I went back to look at the Chinatown Community Children’s Center (a bilingual preschool where Katz had been the first director), the kids were so happy. Some were still speaking Chinese only, and many of them were speaking clearly in English and so forth, at age 3, 4 and 5. I haven’t had the chance to go into elementary schools, but both my sisters were school principals and they told me stories about how a lot of their kids could transition back and forth between English and Chinese, but likewise, Spanish, Tagalog (and other languages).
How do you think California is doing with teaching English learners and with bilingual education?
It’s really a little tough. There’s more curriculum and there are more people who can do it. So that’s a plus. But California really has to codify the approach as a viable program. I know you’re mostly focused on California, and the states that have the most bilingual students, or English language learners (ELL), are California, Texas, Illinois, Florida, New York. But it turns out Wyoming, Nebraska, Indiana, Kentucky and Alabama have growing populations.
What they don’t have is the following: They don’t have a clear identification system for who is ELL and what kind of services they need, and how that’s differentiated from a student who has learning disabilities. They can mistake an English language learner as though they are a learning-disabled student. So they need to clean that up.
They need to provide families with what I call wraparound services so that when they come to school, they can request a translator or request somebody to help guide them through the system. They need to have an English language development program for those that are designated. I think every employee, not just English language learner teachers, should be trained in what the highlights and challenges are for an English language learner and the family that they come from. Second, you can offer bilingual (education). And then I just think that there should be a way to monitor how these programs are doing and how these kids are doing. And we don’t have a monitoring system.
What do you think that parents and teachers and everyone can learn from the story of Lau v. Nichols?
They should understand and know that you can be a fully high-functioning person in two languages, three languages. No more Mrs. Thompson, “No Chinese here.” That is so old school. We need to open our minds to the fact that the brain can handle many languages and many cultural shifts.
Two, every teacher should be trained to understand, what is ELL? Three, there would be a much better approach if the kids at age 4 or 5 actually had some kind of screening, so that you might have a kid that’s 60% fluent in English, but just needs a little more targeted (instruction), another year, maybe two years of a focused program. So assessing the kids early on would be very important.
I think the next thing is getting the parents to understand how important these programs are. And they need to support it with their time, their volunteer time, their money, their talent, whatever they do, we need to give it complete focus.
And the school districts need to understand that there are many gradations of bilingual-bicultural. It’s not just like one or the other. It’s very complicated. So I just think if the state and each school district could do it, we would be way better off. And California is way further ahead than most of these other places.
