The Politics of Education

Policy in an Era of Inequality

In a context of increased politicization led by state and federal policymakers, cor-

porate reformers, and for-profit educational organizations, The Politics of Education
Policy in an Era of Inequality explores a new vision for leading schools grounded in
culturally relevant advocacy and social justice theories. This timely volume tackles
the origins and implications of growing accountability for educational leaders and
reconsiders the role that educational leaders should and can play in education pol-
icy and political processes. This book provides a critical perspective and analysis of
today’s education policy landscape and leadership practice; explores the challenges
and opportunities associated with teaching in and leading schools; and examines
the structural, political, and cultural interactions among school principals, district
leaders, and state and federal policy actors. An important resource for practicing and
aspiring leaders, The Politics of Education Policy in an Era of Inequality shares a theoret-
ical framework and strategies for building bridges between education researchers,
practitioners, and policymakers.

Sonya Douglass Horsford is Associate Professor of Education Leadership at

Teachers College, Columbia University, USA.

Janelle T. Scott is the Robert C. and Mary Catherine Birgeneau Distinguished

Chair in Educational Disparities and Associate Professor of Education Policy,
Politics, and Leadership at the University of California, Berkeley, USA.

Gary L. Anderson is Professor of Educational Leadership at New York Univer-

sity, USA.
EDUCATIONAL LEADERSHIP FOR EQUITY AND DIVERSITY
Series Editor: Colleen A. Capper

Leadership for Increasingly Diverse Schools

George Theoharis and Martin Scanlan

Organizational Theory for Equity and Diversity

Leading Integrated, Socially Just Education
Colleen A. Capper

The Politics of Education Policy in an Era of Inequality

Possibilities for Democratic Schooling
Sonya Douglass Horsford, Janelle T. Scott, and Gary L. Anderson

For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge.com/

Educational-Leadership-for-Equity-and-Diversity/book-series/ELED
The Politics of Education
Policy in an Era of
Inequality
Possibilities for Democratic
Schooling

Sonya Douglass Horsford,

Janelle T. Scott, and
Gary L. Anderson
First published 2019
by Routledge
52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017
and by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2019 Taylor & Francis
The right of Sonya Douglass Horsford, Janelle T. Scott, and Gary L. Anderson
to be identified as authors of this work has been asserted by them in
accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and
Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or
utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now
known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in
any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing
from the publishers.
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered
trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without
intent to infringe.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
A catalog record for this title has been requested

ISBN: 978-1-138-93018-6 (hbk)

ISBN: 978-1-138-93019-3 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-315-68068-2 (ebk)
Typeset in Aldine 401 and Helvetice Neue
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Contents

List of Figures, Tables, and Boxes vii

Series Editor Introduction ix
Preface xi
Overview of the Book xv

1 The Politics of Education Policy in an Era of Inequality 1

2 Critical Policy Analysis: Interrogating Process, Politics, and Power 21

3 Public Schools or Private Goods? The Politics of Choice, Markets,

and Competition 49

4 National or Special Interests? Federal and State Education

Policy and Reform 69

5 School District Governance and Education Leadership:

A Shifting Landscape 89

6 Philanthropy, Donors, and Private Influence over Public

Education: The Case of Charter Schools 107

7 The “New Professional”: Teaching and Leading under New

Public Management 141

8 In Pursuit of Democratic Education: Putting the Public

Back in Public Schools 165
vi CONTENTS

9 Building Power: Community Organizing, Student Empowerment,

and Public Accountability 191

10 Reclaiming the Power of Education: Possibilities for Democratic

Schooling 209

Index 231
List of Figures, Tables, and Boxes

Figures

5.1 Micropolitical Leadership Matrix 100

6.1 The Policy, Planning, and Funding Network of the
Charter School Sector 118
6.2 Examples of 501(c)(3) and 501(c)(4) Organizations and
Funding Streams 120

Tables

2.1 Goals of Schooling 29

5.1 School Governance Regimes 92
6.1 New Philanthropy, New Language 112
7.1 Periods of Professionalization 148
8.1 A Framework for Moving Toward Authentic Participation 167
9.1 Traditions of School-Based Management 198

Boxes

2.1 Tamara Contreras, Principal, Liceo Confederacion Suiza,

(Swiss Confederation High School), Santiago, Chile 27
2.2 Understanding Education Policy as Political Spectacle 37
5.1 Gertrude Ayers, Principal, Harlem, New York 101
6.1 Brief Descriptions of Selected Venture Philanthropies 121
6.2 Superintendent Mike Matsuda, Anaheim Union School District 133
viii LIST OF FIGURES, TABLES, AND BOXES

8.1 Jamaal Bowman, Principal, Bronx, New York 176

9.1 John Kuhn letter, Superintendent of Mineral Wells Independent
School District, Texas 196
9.2 New Teachers’ Roundtable (NTRT) 203
10.1 Coalition for Educational Justice: Culturally Responsive
Education 101 215
10.2 Technocratic Knowledge Framework 221
10.3 Emancipatory Knowledge Framework 221
Series Editor Introduction

The Educational Leadership for Equity and Diversity book series aims to publish the
primary text for each pre-K to 12 educational leadership preparation course while
allowing educators in schools and districts to rely on the same books for leadership
development. I cannot imagine a more timely and brilliantly written book for cur-
rent and prospective educational leaders as this text, The Politics of Education Policy in
an Era of Inequality.
Conceptually framed by critical policy analysis, this book presents an alterna-
tive to traditional education policy and politics texts by focusing on issues of power,
voice, democratic participation, and the reproduction of inequality in the policy-
making process. As importantly, through the narrative, discussion questions, and
real-life case examples, the text lays out how educational leaders can disrupt this
policy inequality at multiple levels.
Perhaps for many educational leaders, federal, state, local, and school policies
may seem elusive, and often, in the context of a myriad of competing responsibili-
ties, educational leaders reactively respond to policy mandates at all levels. Instead,
Horsford, Scott, and Anderson advocate for a critical policy analysis perspective as
the lens for addressing and creating educational policy and doing so in three ways.
First, critical policy analysis requires a critical, social justice interpretation and
application of existing policies. Authors Horsford, Scott, and Anderson challenge
leaders to lead beyond policy compliance. They remind us that how we view and
then enact policy at all levels depends on our own belief system. For example, some
educational leaders interpret federal and state special education policy in ways that
maintain segregated environments within schools. Educational leaders leading for
equity can leverage the same policies to eliminate segregation and in ways to ad-
vance the proportional representation of students labeled with disabilities across all
settings. Both interpretations of the policy are compliant, but only one interpreta-
tion advances equity.
x SERIES EDITOR INTRODUCTION

Second, critical policy analysis asks leaders to join their communities to chal-
lenge policies that perpetuate inequities (and this text shows them how through
case examples). Third, critical policy analysis asks educational leaders and their
communities to move beyond critique and to create and advance policies that ad-
vance equity for all. Importantly, this book does not stop at critique of the policy
field status quo. The book draws across the literature on social justice leadership,
community organizing, and student empowerment literature to consider the role
of educational leaders and teachers in democratic education.
As Horsford, Scott, and Anderson mention in Chapter 1, the field of educa-
tional leadership for social justice has, in some cases, advanced without full rec-
ognition of the history of social justice across communities that has preceded the
educational equity leaders. Throughout the text, the authors bring this history for-
ward as a context to help leaders understand the origination of public school choice,
markets, and competition, and the various forms it takes in their local communities.
The book examines the multiple levels of federal and state education policy and
reform and in local school district governance. The authors address an emerging
field of research related to philanthropy, donors, and private influence over public
education, and the new public management. Thus, the book helps prospective and
practicing leaders to position themselves as part of a much larger and historical so-
cial justice, civil rights movement.
As Series Editor, I am thrilled that this book found its way to the Series to
fulfill its vision of providing the core text for each leadership preparation program
course/experience and to provide critical guidance for practicing school leaders. I
am grateful that the leadership candidates in our program and all education prepa-
ration programs will have access to this text for their leadership and policy courses
to further develop leaders for equity who truly make a difference.
Preface

We live in precarious times. “Alternative facts” and ideologically motivated think

tanks and advocacy groups seem to have more influence on policymaking and public
opinion than science and serious scholarship (Rich, 2013). Our democracy and our
media are threatened by unlimited corporate money (Mayer, 2016). Long-standing
American principles and commitments to broadening equality, such as the sepa-
ration of church and state and the Voting Rights Act, are being rolled back. Our
society has become more economically unequal and racially segregated, and glob-
ally, religious fundamentalism, nationalism, racism, patriarchy, and classism are all
making a comeback. And if none of that is cause for concern, human life on our
planet may not survive another century (Klein, 2015).
Before you burrow under the covers and toss this book out the window, we
want to be clear that we don’t see everything as gloom and doom. We are witness-
ing broad-based mobilizations around the world to defend democratic principles.
As of this writing, in the U.S., teachers in West Virginia, Oklahoma, Kentucky,
Arizona, and Colorado are striking and walking out to protest austerity policies and
disinvestment in public education, and progressive caucuses of the national teach-
ers unions are pushing those organizations to connect their missions to grassroots
education justice groups. Students too are marching in support of their teachers
as well as to protest gun violence and the abuse of refugees seeking asylum at our
borders. We see a new kind of public sector professional emerging, one that is pre-
pared to defend a democratic public sector that is under attack. This book is mainly
about the emergence of this new democratic professional, but they will need a deep
understanding of the educational and social policies that surround them. We didn’t
get here by accident, and only leaders steeped in an understanding of policy and
reform can promote public schools that work for all children. In subsequent chap-
ters, we will meticulously document how austerity policies and the attack on the
public sector have been led by a bipartisan group of reformers who promote New
Public Management (NPM) schemes to use markets and other business principles
xii PREFACE

to privatize public schools under the banner of “modernization” (Anderson &

Cohen, 2018).
More recently, these reformers have been joined by an education industry that
sees the public sector as an emerging profit center. One of the characteristics of
late capitalism is what Harvey (2005) calls capital “accumulation by dispossession.”
This means that corporations have exhausted their private sector opportunities for
capital accumulation and have now turned to the exploitation of our public assets.
Our military, our prisons, our schools, our health-care system, our social security,
and our pensions have all become profit centers for entrepreneurs.
To some, these claims about reformers will seem exaggerated or even wrong-
headed, but none of them are based on “alternative facts.” They are all carefully
documented, and within the community of scholars, there is wide agreement that
the privatization of the public sphere is well underway, though some may differ as
to why it is happening or whether it should happen. But scholarly evidence is too
often drowned out in a sea of corporate-owned media, think tanks, 24/7 cable news,
and a justifiably angry citizenry deprived of real information. Much ink has been
spilled for decades, trying to explain why academic scholarship has so little influ-
ence on public and educational policies (Weiss, 1977). But in these times, we feel
that it is important to take a stand on the importance of scholarship and evidence in
fighting back against forces of misinformation and corporate interests (Anderson,
2007). Such a stand is especially necessary, given the equally strong evidence that
the privatization of public institutions perpetuates and deepens economic and racial
inequalities (Apple, 2013; Horsford, 2011).
Our goal in writing this book is to get the facts straight and provide a defense
of our public sphere, if not exactly of our public schools as they have existed so far.
We also attempt to provide an alternative perspective. What if we look at schooling
from the perspective of those who have not been well served: the poor and working
class, nonwhites, women, LGBTQ people, the disabled, immigrants, and freethink-
ers. We hope to provide a kind of people’s account of American public schooling
that acknowledges its vast limitations without buying into the myths promoted by
those who would destroy the public institutional infrastructure of our democracy.
In a world in which everything seems to be about branding, advocacy, and in-
dignant anger, some might prefer a more evenhanded academic approach to making
our case. Some prefer a policy pragmatism that is agnostic about the role of public
and private institutions in delivering education. The problem is that presenting
“both sides” too often results in a false equivalency. For instance, the fossil fuel and
pharmaceutical industries produce their own research, which creates alternative
facts that support their industries. Advocacy think tanks, mostly from the political
right, produce reports that are largely not vetted or peer-evaluated, and few of these
advocacy think tanks employ serious researchers (Haas, 2007). The scholarship that
we cite in this book is mostly taken from peer-reviewed journal articles and books
published with university or other academic presses. Yet we also attempt to use this
scholarship to sound the alarm that our public schools and our democracy are being
impoverished.
 PREFACE xiii

David Wallace-Wells (2017) writes in New York magazine that given the dire
predictions concerning climate change, the average American is nowhere near as
alarmed as they should be.

But no matter how well-informed you are, you are surely not alarmed enough.
Over the past decades, our culture has gone apocalyptic with zombie movies
and Mad Max dystopias, perhaps the collective result of displaced climate anx-
iety, and yet when it comes to contemplating real-world warming dangers, we
suffer from an incredible failure of imagination. The reasons for that are many:
the timid language of scientific probabilities, which the climatologist James
Hansen once called “scientific reticence” in a paper chastising scientists for ed-
iting their own observations so conscientiously that they failed to communicate
how dire the threat really was; the fact that the country is dominated by a group
of technocrats who believe any problem can be solved and an opposing culture
that doesn’t even see warming as a problem worth addressing; the way that cli-
mate denialism has made scientists even more cautious in offering speculative
warnings; the simple speed of change and, also, its slowness, such that we are
only seeing effects now of warming from decades past.
(par. 3)

Though perhaps not quite as dire as the extinction of our species, we believe that
the slow demise of our public sector and with it our democracy are concern for a
similar level of alarm and that educators and educational researchers have a moral
obligation to lead the way on sounding that alarm.
This book can be read in many ways and by many audiences, but we conceive
of it as a text primarily for those who want to be educational leaders. Here, we use
“leader” broadly to include teachers, principals, superintendents, and others who
lead organizations outside schools. Therefore, we have interspersed chapters with
descriptions of leaders that we consider to be exemplary of the kind of democratic
professional that we envision. We also follow each chapter with discussion ques-
tions that can help readers to reflect on the chapters and that will hopefully stimu-
late some critical discussions of chapter content and assumptions.
Because we conceive of this book as a text for education practitioners and policy
leaders, we walk a thin line between the impulse to be reassuring and provide a pep
talk, and taking a “chicken little” approach in which we warn that the sky is fall-
ing. There is a viewpoint out there that professors shouldn’t demoralize students
who want to lead schools. We believe that being informed is always empowering,
even when the news isn’t good. The book doesn’t shy away from critique, but
it is also critically optimistic and hopeful. We reject the notion that to call atten-
tion to out-of-school factors that contribute to school failure is to “make excuses”
(Berliner, 2009, 2013). We believe that changing the odds for underserved children
requires changes both inside and outside of schools (Green & Gooden, 2014). Any-
thing less not only allows the status quo to continue but fails to confront the forces
that have already marketized and privatized huge swaths of our public schools.
xiv PREFACE

This is a difficult time to be an educator if you view your job as keeping your
head down and allowing reformers who are mostly non-educators to define you
professionally. But if you are committed to your students and their families and
communities, and are willing to struggle to change policies and practices inside
schools and join with those trying to make changes outside of schools, then these
are exciting times to be an educator. This book is for those advocates for social
justice who want to better understand who the puppet masters are behind school
reform and how we might wrestle some power away to create equitably financed,
democratic, public schools in which children can have their intellectual, emotional,
affective, aesthetic, and physical needs met. Those schools already exist for the
privileged. Our struggle for social justice consists in making them a reality for all
children within a society that places people ahead of profit.
Overview of the Book

Chapter 1, The Politics of Education Policy in an Era of Inequality, examines the

politics of education policy in an era of deepening inequality and provides a critical
perspective and analysis of today’s education policy landscape. More specifically,
we (1) explore the challenges and opportunities associated with teaching in and
leading schools in an era of widening race and class inequality, (2) present a critical
perspective and analysis of the politics of education policy and leadership practice,
and (3) present leadership for justice grounded in policy advocacy as part of a larger
social justice project to protect and rethink one of our democracy’s most valued
institutions—its public schools.
In Chapter 2, Critical Policy Analysis: Interrogating Process, Politics, and
Power, we introduce and provide an overview of critical policy analysis as an alter-
native to traditional approaches that present policymaking as a rational, objective,
and scientific process. The critical lens applied throughout the book reveals the
ways in which traditional policy perspectives have and continue to advantage policy
elites and well-resourced special interests while ignoring or excluding altogether
the voices, perspectives, and participation of those who have the most to gain or
lose from proposed policies (i.e. students, parents, teachers, and school leaders). We
consider the politics of ideology with a focus on how liberalism, namely classical
liberalism, neoliberalism, and social democracy, shape and are shaped by social,
political, and economic forces. These ideologies inform commitments to distinctly
different goals of schooling, which are central to education policy and its desired
outcomes.
Chapter 3, Public Schools or Private Goods? The Politics of Choice, Markets,
and Competition, explores the impact of neoliberalism and “disruptive innovation”
on education policy through its focus on markets, privatization, and the politics of
choice and competition. It focuses on how the expansion of charters and vouch-
ers, and dismantling the government’s role in education limits the democratic
xvi OVERVIEW OF THE BOOK

possibilities of schooling and its subsequent impact on students, educators, and

American education as a public good.
Chapter 4, National or Special Interests? Federal and State Education Policy
and Reform, presents the changing landscape of education policy and politics at
the state and federal levels. It focuses on the perennial tension between each state’s
constitutional obligation to provide a common education and the federal govern-
ment’s interest in workforce development and international competition, creating
a unique leadership challenge for teachers and administrators in their implemen-
tation of policy as they navigate competing aims. It describes this post-Civil Rights
Era shift from the Brown v. Board of Education decision’s declaration of separate
schools as inherently unequal to the period of massive resistance and White flight
that ensued. It also highlights the move from educational equality to educational
excellence, as instigated by the 1983 Nation at Risk report, and concludes with a
discussion of new non-state policy actors and networks operating at the state and
federal levels.
Chapter 5, School District Governance and Education Leadership: A Shifting
Landscape, discusses current shifts in district governance from an administrative/
professional regime to a market regime. At the school level, the chapter takes up
the issue of school micro-politics and how schools might move from becoming
school-centric to becoming more community-centric.
Chapter 6, Philanthropy, Donors, and Private Influence over Public Education,
explores the increased role of private venture philanthropy in the education policy-
making process. It begins with a history of traditional philanthropy in serving the
public good and the recent shift to a more aggressive “new” philanthropy and its
implications for educational inequality; opportunity; and reform at the local, state,
and national levels.
Chapter 7, The New Professional: Teaching and Leading Under New Public
Management, presents an overview of New Public Management and the emergence
of the “new” professional, including the proliferation of entrepreneurial education
reform projects fueling the politics of choice and competition that undermine the
deliberation and collaboration essential to building public consensus and valuing
education as a public good. This new governance holds important implications for
not only public school and district leaders but the field broadly as we consider more
expansive notions of school leadership, given the range of delivery models for edu-
cation in the current policy era.
Chapter 8, In Pursuit of Democratic Education, considers democracy within
the context of education and revisits Dewey’s notions of democratic education
in terms of school and district governance; inclusion in enjoying the benefits of
society; and, in the case of public education, what it means for a school to truly
be public. It also explores the sociological concept of social reproduction and the
possibilities associated with leveraging the cultural production of minoritized and
marginalized groups in ways that advance a new social movement that supports
and invests in high-quality public schools.
Chapter 9, Building Power: Community Organizing, Student Empowerment,
and Public Accountability, articulates a new vision for public education, along with
 OVERVIEW OF THE BOOK xvii

strategies and suggestions to inform a new politics and paradigm of school lead-
ership committed to social justice and democratic schooling. It considers the role
educational leaders should play in the post-reform era and contributes a critical and
timely analysis of the special interests driving education policy today. In addition
to presenting a critical and forward-leaning vision for examining education policy
and politics, it calls for new visions of school leadership that support policy trans-
formation through practical strategies grounded in advocacy leadership, culturally
responsive and relevant leadership, and applied critical leadership for justice.
Chapter 10, Reclaiming Democracy and the Transformative Power of Educa-
tion: Possibilities for Democratic Schooling, concludes the book with the impor-
tance of education leaders’ engaging in the policy process in ways that reclaim and
restore the democratic ideal and power of education, highlighting its significance
to how Americans think about and understand their role as citizens of the U.S. and
the world. We revisit critical policy analysis and address implications for practice.

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Berliner, D. (2009). Poverty and potential: Out-of-school factors and school success. Boulder and
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xviii OVERVIEW OF THE BOOK

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CHAPTER 1

The Politics of Education Policy

in an Era of Inequality

The growing problem of racial and social inequalities in the U.S. has taken center
stage in the policy arena, providing an important opportunity for researchers,
policymakers, and advocates to remind the public about the important role that
public institutions play. Despite this policy window, school district leaders and
education advocates face significant structural, economic, and institutional bar-
riers that make it increasingly difficult for schools to serve as sites of opportu-
nity, especially for the nation’s most disadvantaged students. Record levels of
economic inequality and reduced social mobility amid widening and deepening
class divides present tremendous challenges for school district leaders and edu-
cation advocates committed to ensuring equality of educational opportunity for
all students (Wilson & Horsford, 2013). In fact, the impact of rising economic
inequality across the domains of health, social welfare, politics, and culture does
not bode well for ending educational inequality, which continues to be fueled
by resource and opportunity gaps (Carter & Welner, 2013; Darling-Hammond,
2010), and the troubling segregation of schools by race and class (Horsford, 2016;
Reardon & Owens, 2014).
These trends and conditions have normalized race, gender, and class ine-
qualities in ways that have likely convinced our children to believe such “so-
cial inequality and social divisions are the natural order of things” (Carter &
Reardon, 2014, p. 2). There is a long-held belief in America that education has
the potential to reduce inequality and expand opportunity in ways that advance
the American Dream. But widening inequality in schools threatens not only
America’s opportunity narrative, which has relied heavily on education as the
“great equalizer” (Mann, 1849), but also obstructs the pathway to its proverbial
dream (Putnam, 2015).
For decades, demographers have anticipated the “browning of America” and de-
clining White population that would make the U.S. a “majority-minority” country
by 2020. Indeed, the school-aged population has already reached that designation.
According to the National Center for Education Statistics, since 2014, America’s
2 THE POLITICS OF EDUCATION POLICY

schools have been majority nonwhite—49.5% White, 16% Black, 25% Latino, 5%
Asian and Pacific Islander, and 1% indigenous, with the rest reporting two or
more races—a significant change from the 1977–1978 school year, when 76% of
public schoolchildren were White. While unsurprising for those educated in the
U.S. within the last twenty years, a longer view of the history of American edu-
cation reveals how markedly the racial composition of schools has changed and
helps explain the movement to privatize and dismantle America’s system of public
schools.

WHO IS LEADING AMERICA’S SCHOOLS, AND TO WHAT END?

Throughout this book, we will call for greater bottom-up change, led by edu-
cators, students, parents, and communities, but currently, education reform is
being led largely by non-educators, mostly corporate leaders, venture philan-
thropists, and politicians who know little about education research and policy.
The increased support of top-down approaches to school improvement led by
powerful non-educators has shown limited consideration of teacher, principal,
and district leader perspectives. What is the role and responsibility of educa-
tors, given the current policy context and how it plays out in schools? Neither
teacher or leader certification agencies have made social and education policies
part of the training of educators. While leadership theories address the role of
school and district leaders in the implementation of social and education pol-
icies, with notable exceptions (Anderson, 2009; Green, 2017; Ishimaru, 2014;
Theoharis, 2007), they are silent on how leaders might push back on or influ-
ence these policies.
We might hope to seek some clarification in the Professional Standards for
Educational Leaders (PSEL), which offers a broad articulation of what leaders must
be able to do. PSEL views the role of education leaders as primarily being respon-
sible for management of the school site (Murphy, 2016). Although PSEL, which
is the 2015 revision of the previous leadership standards, focuses much more at-
tention on instructional leadership and the ways in which leaders must engage in
transformational practices to improve schools, it speaks very little, if at all, to the
policy and political forces under which school leaders must lead. These forces have
significant implications for each of the standards, which focus almost exclusively
on management of the school site. In fact, one of the limitations of such standards
is that they are grounded in “ideal theory” (Mills, 2017), assuming that equality,
opportunity, and freedom are enjoyed by all when, in fact, the state of America’s
schools and society reflects a very different reality.
For example, transformational leadership has long been a hotly debated notion.
George McGregor Burns contrasted it with transactional leadership and its more
“give and take,” don’t “rock the boat” approach. Transformational leadership em-
phasized the leader’s personality traits and ability to mobilize followers around a
vision. But it begs the question of toward what end this transformation is directed.
In this age of what business gurus call “disruptive innovation,” are transformational
 THE POLITICS OF EDUCATION POLICY 3

leaders those who disrupt the public school “establishment,” teacher unions, profes-
sional certification, and the welfare state? What are transformational leaders trans-
forming, and why? Furthermore, how does a principal serve as a transformational
leader in an education policy context where the proliferation of charter schools
and privatization limit the growth potential of public education through limited
resources and dwindling support from those politicians who seek to starve public
schools in the interest of choice and competition? These factors contribute to a pol-
icy landscape where the influence of school and district leaders is diminished, de-
spite how education policymaking might could benefit from their expertise, which
again begs the question who is leading America’s schools?
What is the role of education leaders amid historic levels of inequality and re-
duced social mobility? We agree that, on matters of educational equity and social
justice, the standards “have historically fallen short of providing concrete guidance
for school leaders on how to carry out these responsibilities through the lens of social
justice” (Scanlan & Theoharis, 2015, p. 2). A limited focus on preparing school and
district leaders for the politics of education and education policy not only under-
mines their ability to be effective administrators, but also to demonstrate the leader-
ship capacity, political awareness, and advocacy central to leadership for social justice.
We see a similar trend in teacher certification. The National Council for Ac-
creditation of Teacher Education (NCATE), under pressure from conservative
organizations, agreed to take the word “social justice” out of Standard 4 of the 2008
standards. The previous language was that teacher candidates’ dispositions should
be “guided by beliefs and attitudes such as caring, fairness, honesty, responsibil-
ity and social justice.” Right-wing organizations, such as the National Association of
Scholars (NAS), the Foundation for Individual Rights in Education (FIRE), and
the American Council of Trustees and Alumni (ACTA), had released statements
which linked the language of social justice to the promotion of political ideology
in the education of teachers. While this occurred during the conservative George
W. Bush administration, Heybach (2009) argues that the slow demise of philoso-
phers and scholars in the social foundations of education meant that no one was
able to defend the concept. She cites Butin (2008), who states, “there was no one
who could speak to the ancient origins of, societal consensus around, and empirical
evidence for social justice as a cause for all individuals (and especially for future
teachers) in a democratic and pluralistic society.”
This book is an attempt to better understand how educators and school com-
munities might take a more active role in education policy. While we take a stand-
point that supports public schools, we do not defend wholesale public schools,
which remain complicit in the reproduction of inequality. We will argue, however,
that privatizing them and opening them up to profit seekers will only make things
worse from democratic, quality, and equity perspectives.
Moreover, since 2008, public investment in education has plummeted, and the
2017 Tax Cuts and Jobs Act will only divert more funding away from public in-
vestment, promising to make the U.S. among the most unequal societies in the
world. It locks in permanent and deep cuts to statutory corporate taxes (what cor-
porations pay in reality, via loopholes, is half that amount), down from 52.8% in
4 THE POLITICS OF EDUCATION POLICY

the 1960s to 32% during the last three decades to 21% in 2017. Meanwhile, rather
than investing in research and development or the creation of new jobs, U.S. cor-
porations are holding $2.1 trillion abroad to avoid paying taxes. The law also creates
new exemptions in the estate tax and for pass-through corporations, which almost
exclusively benefit the ultrarich, like the Trump family, which owns pass-through
corporations. As a fig leaf, the bill temporarily reduces individual taxes for most, but
by 2027, the richest 1% of Americans will see over 82% of its benefits. All told, this
massive upward redistribution of wealth will add $1.5 trillion to the deficit, greasing
the wheels for the cuts to Medicare and Social Security that Speaker Paul Ryan has
already threatened (Kim, December 20, 2017, para 3).
Reformers have used a cynical discourse of “no excuses” to shame teachers and
educational leaders into taking responsibility for the failure of the corporate sector
and the state at all levels—local, state, and national—to provide an equitable society,
especially in the last four decades. We will develop this argument in more detail
later in the book, but it is evident that the public sector has become systematically
vilified since the Nation at Risk report in 1983. In this book, we will highlight edu-
cators who have refused to be cowered by such language, and who are working to
change conditions for children and families both within and outside of schools. We
are also seeing the entry of for-profit and nonprofit organizations into the teacher
and principal education fields. These alternatives, which include Kaplan, The Uni-
versity of Phoenix, and Laureate, to name only more reputable for-profits, and non-
profits like Relay Graduate School of Education and New Leaders for New Schools,
have been actively supported by both Republican and Democratic administrations.
Nor is this deregulation of teacher and principal certification a new phenomenon.
According to Zeichner (2010),

In 2001, $40 million dollar non-competitive grants from the U.S. Department
of Education led to the founding of the American Board for the Certification
of Teaching Excellence (ABCTE) which currently certifies teachers in 9 states
based on two online examinations in content knowledge and professional knowl-
edge. ABCTE does not require enrollment in a teacher education program or
demonstration of teaching competence in a classroom for a teaching license.
(p. 1545)

Smith and Pandolfo (2011) report that since 2007, the leading producers of teachers
in Texas are two for-profit online programs, A+ Texas Teachers and iTeach Texas.
The demise of professionalism across the public sector has been amply documented
as teachers, nurses, doctors, social workers, and police officers are increasingly con-
trolled from a distance by narrow outcomes measures (Evetts, 2011; Muller, 2018).

ARE MARKETS THE ANSWER TO PUBLIC SECTOR

PROBLEMS?

The aims of education began to change as education was viewed solely as linked to
U.S. competitiveness in the global economy (Labaree, 1997). While education has
 THE POLITICS OF EDUCATION POLICY 5

historically been viewed as both a cost and an investment in the country’s future,
the perception of its economic importance grew in the 1950s, when the Soviet
Union put the first man into outer space and appeared to be surpassing us in math
and science (Engel, 2000). Another jolt occurred in the 1980s as Japan and Germany
appeared to be surpassing us in economic might. The rhetoric of The Nation at Risk
report, commissioned by President Reagan in 1983, set off what we now think of as
the current education reform movement that has transferred what many consider
the failure of the corporate sector (Lock & Spender, 2011) onto public schools,
replacing a public investment strategy with school choice and high-stakes testing
(Adamson, Astrad, & Darling-Hammond, 2016; Mehta, 2013). In many ways,
Milton Friedman’s (1962) argument, first articulated from the White House by
Ronald Reagan, that markets should replace or supplement government in nearly
all sectors of society has gone from a fringe idea of the Libertarian right to main-
stream thought in a mere four decades.
But it is important to understand why a market-based approach to school re-
form is fundamentally flawed. It fails to understand that if people are treated as
customers instead of citizens, the skills of citizenship and political engagement will
atrophy. But it also changes the ethos of public service as commitment to a common
good, changing what it means to be an education professional (Anderson & Cohen,
2018; Cuban, 2004). Moreover, market-based approaches do not support state in-
tervention in redressing racial, linguistic, and socioeconomic discrimination. In the
following section, we provide an analysis of how a public service ethos of improving
education for all children has been eroded in the last few decades and replaced by
an entrepreneurial model that incentivizes school administrators to maximize their
own schools’ success (and their own careers) at the expense of others. We are not
suggesting here that previous school administrators were not also career-oriented
or, in too many cases, also constrained by biases of race, class, and gender. Rather,
we want to highlight how leadership grounded in public service promoted a greater
concern for the common good than a market approach does (Sullivan, 2004).

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ENTREPRENEURIAL LEADERSHIP

IN EDUCATION?

We have critiqued the use of markets to discipline principals and teachers, and cre-
ate entrepreneurial and competitive forms of leadership. Yet older, public servant
approaches to leadership have also been heavily critiqued as failing to challenge
the grammar of schooling and the inequalities that public schools have reproduced
(Callahan, 1962). The premise of public school leadership has generally been to
serve and be an advocate for all children, though this has seldom been equitably
realized. One might, then, rightfully ask if a market-based approach might better
serve all children and lead to greater achievement and equitable outcomes.
Before the age of market reforms, teachers who aspired to be principals were
taught that their central task as an instructional leader was to help a teaching staff
improve their instruction, even with a staff composed of teachers ranging from in-
competent to outstanding. If the incompetent ones (usually only one or two) could
6 THE POLITICS OF EDUCATION POLICY

not improve after working with them over time, then the task was to counsel them
out of teaching or use documentation to move them out (Bridges, 1992). These
aspiring principals were not taught to harass them or scapegoat unions, but rather,
how to provide due process by helping struggling teachers improve while docu-
menting their work in case they didn’t (see Ayres, Laura, & Ayres, 2018).
They were also taught how to encourage professional renewal for burned-out
or “plateaued” teachers, how to target professional development for the teachers
with specific needs, and how to inspire the good teachers to become outstanding
(Milstein, 1990). The dilemma for most principals back then was how to carry
out both management and instructional leadership roles, given the constraints on
their time (Rallis & Highsmith, 1986). Gradually, teacher leader positions, liter-
acy coaches, and professional learning communities (PLCs) were added in many
schools for additional support for teacher development and instructional mentoring.
Because most teachers saw teaching as a career and stayed in schools longer,
there was time to do this kind of capacity building in the school, which also meant
transferring this capacity building system-wide if these teachers moved to another
school. All children benefited when teachers improved. This was seen as particu-
larly important in low-income schools, where students needed skilled teachers and
depended on teachers, counselors, and administrators for access to dominant social
and cultural capital (Stanton-Salazar, 2011).
The new entrepreneurial principal, modeled after business CEOs, works in a
different policy context and brings a different ethos and internal logic to the pub-
lic sector (Ward, 2011). Particularly in urban school districts with school choice
policies, there is a tendency for principals to recruit “low maintenance” students
to their schools to improve test scores. “High maintenance” students, such as boys
and those with learning disabilities, limited English, or behavior problems, require
more effort, resources, and skilled teachers. Given the amount of time and effort
some principals put into marketing their schools in these districts, there is often lit-
tle time to mentor teachers, and sadly, these administrators anticipate that students
with special needs or behavior problems may lower their overall test scores. While
terms like “high and low maintenance” seem offensive—after all, these are chil-
dren, not machines—we use them to show how market systems can commodify
and dehumanize their clients.
In fact, schools that are skilled at serving these more resource-intensive students
are penalized in a market system. They are likely to have lower test scores and may
not attract families who view the school as serving children unlike their own. Under
No Child Left Behind (NCLB), many of these good schools were closed or recon-
stituted for low test scores or underenrollment, even though they were responsive
to their community and served their students well (Journey for Justice Alliance,
2014; Kemple, 2015). Charter schools, which are less regulated, are particularly
geared for entrepreneurialism, and as a result, they tend to have far fewer homeless
students, foster children, or children with behavior problems or special education or
English language needs, leaving public schools to work with more of these students
(Baker, 2012). But even public school principals in districts with school choice are
pressured to engage in the same behavior (Lubienski & Lubienski, 2006). Some
 THE POLITICS OF EDUCATION POLICY 7

principals have figured out that if they recruit good teachers, their job is easier, their
test scores improve, and their careers take off. Most principals would likely rather
not play this cynical game, but if competition is the game, then they have to play.
Shipps and White (2009) interviewed principals in New York City. A typical
response to the pressures of accountability was the following:

We aggressively go after teachers…We spend a ton of money and effort on

teacher recruitment, everything from having fancy materials that make our
school look better than any other school, and banners…My hiring coordina-
tor, you know, emails every [education] professor…at every major university
around the country.
(p. 368)

They found that principals also had strategies for recruiting students to make sure
they got the “right kids.” Here is one principal’s strategy:

I’m a competitive person by nature…so I think by nature you are always look-
ing at where you stand in comparison to those in your community…I study
the ones who don’t come…[Ours] isn’t always their first choice. There are two
other choices they [tend to] make…So generally we go through all the applica-
tions…I get a thousand applicants for seventy-five seats. I’m never in a situation
where I go begging for kids, I just need the right kids.
(p. 368)

In a market system, resources that could be focused on instruction are diverted into
marketing and recruiting. What is troubling about these quotes is that competition
is changing not merely what professionals do but who they are. It is reconstructing
their very identities, both personal and professional (Anderson & Cohen, 2018).
Competition is also common within schools. Students are often awarded with
T-shirts or vouchers to buy snacks. Teachers, who are often evaluated by test scores,
compete for the best scores, which means they mimic principals in trying not to
have “more difficult” students assigned to their classes. Moreover, a principal who
recruits great teachers to his or her school is not building capacity. Those teachers
leave behind a classroom of equally deserving students at their former school. A
promising candidate from a teacher education program merely gets recruited to one
school instead of another. All this does is move resources around the district or be-
tween districts, with the goal of enhancing a particular school’s (and, by extension,
principal’s) performance.
Closing, turning around, or reconstituting schools does the same thing. It
just moves resources around the system on the pretext of getting rid of “bad
teachers” without increasing achievement (Center for Research on Education
Outcomes, 2017; Malen, Croninger, Muncey, & Redmond-Jones, 2002; Noguera,
2015; Sunderman, Coghlan, & Mintrop, 2017). The former notion of principals
as instructional leaders, helping all teachers improve, increases system capacity and
produces real value. The entrepreneurial model does not. Ironically, this approach
8 THE POLITICS OF EDUCATION POLICY

mimics how markets have changed in the private sector as well. Whereas the goal
used to be to produce value by making things, now, the focus is on financialization
and increasing shareholder economic gain. Markets no longer produce much value.
Instead, they move money (and, in the case of education markets, students) around
(Piketty, 2014).
At least an entrepreneurial businessperson can argue that her self-interest in
building a successful business allows her to support herself and her family, and
create jobs for others. She wants to poach good employees from other companies
because they are in competition for customers. This is the nature of a business
start-up. But in public school systems, viewing a school as “my business” or “my
start-up” produces pressures to recruit good teachers from other schools, to reject
kids who might lower my test scores, and to market my school to far-flung parents.
The nature of a public school is to work for the common good of all families and
children, not just those in “my school.” It is hard to imagine how this competitive
business model can be viewed as serving or being an advocate for all children, and
there is no evidence that it pays off significantly in higher overall achievement lev-
els. In fact, there is evidence that it adds to an already highly stratified and segre-
gated public school system.
There is also evidence that a focus on test scores as a metric for competition
has caused school leaders to focus less on noncognitive skills, eliminating the affec-
tive, physical, civic, and socio-emotional dimensions of schooling (Lynch, Baker, &
Lyons, 2009). As cited by Reardon, in discussing a growing social class achievement
gap in testing and college attendance, indicates that

A related trend during the last 20 years is the growing social-class gap in other
important measures of adolescents’ “soft skills” and behaviors related to civic
engagement, such as participating in extracurricular activities, sports, and aca-
demic clubs; volunteering and participating in community life; and self-reports
of social trust
(Putnam, Frederick, & Snellman, 2012)

Of course, it is also true that public schools for poor families and children of color
were not very good thirty years ago, before market logic entered education. But
had districts continued to focus on an ethos of public service, PLCs, whole school
reforms, authentic assessment, and ultimately more cultural responsive pedagogies,
they might have made more progress by now than by using high-stakes tests and
market logics to “incentivize” and punish teachers and principals (Payne, 2008).
We will never know how much progress we might have made. But we do know
that we have lost many outstanding teachers and principals (and perhaps more than
a few mediocre ones) because they no longer felt they could use their professional
judgment to advocate for what they know is best for children. Entrepreneurialism can
be a wonderful asset for someone starting a business, but it has too often been prob-
lematic in too many ways for our public education system. There may be some cases
in which market choice may make sense. For instance, districts using “controlled
choice” have intentionally used choice to desegregate schools (Alves & Willie, 1987;
 THE POLITICS OF EDUCATION POLICY 9

Willie, Edwards, & Alves, 2002). In some cases, in which vouchers have been used for
low-income families, parents express satisfaction with their choices, although there
is no evidence of increased achievement (Carnoy, 2017). The argument that poor
parents should have the same choices as middle- and upper-class parents is compel-
ling, but when low-income parents “district hop” in an attempt to get a middle-class
education for their children, they are criminalized (Faw & Jabbar, 2016). Unless
we find the political will to change how we finance schools, allow students to cross
district boundaries, and provide more equitable ways to distribute resources, those
choices will continue to be illusory. In the next section, we will explore in more de-
tail our seeming inability to achieve greater equity in our school system.

POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING:

COUNTERNARRATIVES TO PRIVATIZATION

As we consider the future of America’s schools and the professional duty and respon-
sibility of those who lead them, we are reminded of the tremendous responsibility
school leaders possess, concerning not only the academic performance of students
but also their cognitive development, social-emotional growth, and commitment
to civic education. These areas of student development are critical to a thriving,
sustainable democracy, not to mention their critical role in equipping America’s
students with the education and skills they will need to continue their education,
enter the workforce, or start their own civic or entrepreneurial endeavors.
Fortunately, a robust body of research on social justice leadership has shaped
the field in significant ways in just a short period of time (Anderson, 2009; Frat-
tura & Capper, 2007; Theoharis, 2007; Tillman & Scheurich, 2013; Wilson &
Horsford, 2015). We will highlight, throughout this book, many social justice lead-
ers in schools and districts across the country (e.g. Jamaal Bowman, John Kuhn,
Mike Matsuda, Betty Rosa, Glenda Ritz, and many more) who continue to carry
on the tradition of leaders like Marcus Foster, Leonard Covello, Deborah Meier,
and Barbara Sizemore. Meanwhile, community organizers, activists, unionists, and
leaders (e.g. Reverend William Barber in North Carolina, Jitu Brown and Karen
Lewis in Chicago, and Zakiyah Ansari in New York City) support their social jus-
tice work through advocacy beyond the schoolhouse doors. These coalitions among
school practitioners, community activists, unionists, and educational researchers
are crucial to opposing those with a privatization agenda who want to dismantle our
public schools. These coalitions focus on building, strengthening, and sustaining
public institutions rather than dismantling them.
What can education leaders contribute to the formation of education policy that is
equitable and advances the needs of all students? For many leaders, trying to keep the
peace and make everyone happy is a skill, an art, and even a goal to ensure fairness for
all, but in the given moment, it is important to remember that there is a cost associ-
ated with silence. Perhaps more importantly, leaders should not get out ahead of their
communities or make policy for their communities. Rather, they should be networked
with authentic community leaders and move toward change with their communities.
10 THE POLITICS OF EDUCATION POLICY

School leaders are faced with a complex policy context that pulls them in mul-
tiple directions, and this varies from state to state and district to district. For in-
stance, in some districts—especially urban districts—leaders are contending with
gentrification, school choice, competition from charter schools, police in schools,
colocation, and vendors trying to sell them services. In other districts—suburban
and rural—these issues may be less of a factor, but dealing with social justice issues
related to privilege, and what some are now calling “opportunity hoarding,” may
raise other kinds of policy issues (Lewis & Diamond, 2017; Reeves, 2017). How-
ever, issues of inequality and discrimination, whether by race, social class, gender,
sexual orientation/gender identity, language, disability, or their intersections, are
present in all districts, and school leaders must decide whether they will allow such
inequalities to persist or whether they will take on the difficult task of working to
change these conditions (Theoharis, 2007, 2009).
While there is plenty of bad news for those who support public schools with the
ascendency of Betsy DeVos to Secretary of Education, there are also some promis-
ing developments due to a growing activism among educators and a growing body
of critical educational research. The recent reauthorization of the Elementary and
Secondary Education Act (ESEA) in 2015 helped to mitigate some of the worst ex-
cesses of high-stakes testing, in part due to a large “opt out” movement led by par-
ents (Pizmony-Levy & Saraisky, 2016). Zero tolerance discipline policies in schools
are also under attack as it has become apparent that Black and Latino students are
being suspended at scandalous rates, contributing to a school-to-prison pipeline
that reveals the tragic ways in which racially minoritized and disenfranchised stu-
dents are prepared not for postsecondary education but rather for incarceration.
More and more schools are experimenting with positive and restorative justice ap-
proaches to student discipline. Disproportionate referrals of Black males to special
education are also under attack as well as the plight of New Language Learners, who
languish in developmental English classes. More and more schools are implement-
ing dual language programs.
But too often, there is a disconnect between those who make policy and those
who enact it. In everyday practice, educators serve as policy implementers (Fowler,
2009), spending their waking hours learning, following, interpreting, carrying out,
and having the quality of their work and effectiveness measured by the policies
and regulations approved by policymakers. At the same time, policymakers (and
their staffs) spend their time being informed and lobbied by representatives from
advocacy groups, vocal constituencies, research organizations, and a range of special
interest groups (Drutman, 2015; Spring, 2015), all vying for policies that benefit
their own needs and people. Many educators are disconcerted and frustrated by the
extent to which punitive and market-based policies depart from their professional
judgment, research evidence, and practices that demonstrate what is effective in
schools.
Why don’t we implement the types of policies, funding decisions, and practices
that have been found effective and that the best research and educators’ accumu-
lated experience tell us are effective? This is largely because there are so many other
agendas and political forces at play in education that have little or nothing to do with
 THE POLITICS OF EDUCATION POLICY 11

teaching, learning, or improving educational experiences for children. As Giroux

(1992) explained,

Administrators and teachers in schools of education and leadership programs

need. . . a language that is interdisciplinary, that moves skillfully among theory,
practice, and politics. This is a language that makes issues of culture, power,
and ethics primary to understanding how schools construct knowledge, iden-
tities, and ways of life that promote nurturing and empowering relations. We
need a language in our leadership programs that defends schools as democratic
public spheres.
(p. 8)

Part of the work that education leaders must also engage in involves the earliest
phases of the policy process, that is, framing and naming the problem (Horsford &
D’Amico, 2015). One of the unfortunate limitations of education leadership re-
search is its ahistorical nature (Horsford & D’Amico, 2015). While reformers, and
corporate reformers, in particular, aim to present their efforts as “innovative” and
“transformative,” none of their approaches, efforts, initiatives, or models are new
or even particularly innovative. In their classic text Tinkering Toward Utopia: Toward
a Century of Public School Reform, Tyack and Cuban (1995), through their historical
analysis of America’s infatuation with corporate-led “education reform,” debunk
these claims. Mazzucato (2015), in The Entrepreneurial State, has documented how
the public sector is in reality far more innovative than the more risk-averse private
sector. Totally missing from this process is the counter-perspective of education
leaders advancing social justice and equity, not to mention the parents, students,
and community leaders whose lives are directly impacted by the decisions of
others.
Schools are not immune to these larger contexts and forces of American soci-
ety. In fact, we see these very trends and tensions magnified in schools. The prob-
lems of inadequate access to decent housing, quality health care, family-sustaining
jobs, and affordable public transportation; mass incarceration; school suspensions;
and displacement by gentrification and home foreclosures are just a few of the
larger forces that impact the lives of students, their families, and their communi-
ties. These forces also affect the daily lives and practice of educators committed to
providing students with high-quality amid a troubling era of widening inequality
and reduced social mobility, whereby the American Dream is not only deferred but
is, for a growing number of citizens, a nightmare.

FROM COMPETITION TO COLLECTIVE ACTION FOR CHANGE:

AN EDUCATION MOVEMENT

While this is a book that attempts to provide a critical policy analysis of contempo-
rary educational reform, it is also a book about taking collective action for change.
The current forty-year experiment with market-based, metric-driven education
12 THE POLITICS OF EDUCATION POLICY

reform has fallen far short of its initial hype (Mickelson, Giersch, Stearns, & Moller,
2013; Nichols & Berliner, 2007).
We believe that a post-reform era should be led from the bottom up by edu-
cators, students, parents, and communities. If such a coalition can be galvanized,
the politicians will follow. It is notable that the 2018 wildcat strikes and walkouts
by teachers occurred in “red states” not typically known for challenging austerity
policies.
While we will be providing some social and political analyses that many edu-
cators and non-educators may find disheartening, we try to emphasize those grass-
roots movements and educational leaders who lead against the grain, and the ways
that leadership often comes from below by organizing to build alliances to challenge
those who have amassed inordinate levels of political and economic influence. In
fact, historically, this is how significant change has usually occurred, and those who
struggled from below in the past often faced far more daunting forces than those
we enumerate in this book.
Those corporate-backed reformers who want to dismantle public education
and the welfare state claim that those who want to address factors outside of schools
that impact student success, especially low-income students of color, are making
excuses for failing to teach poor children well. But anyone serious about social
justice knows that change is needed both inside and outside of schools. The term
social justice gets thrown around a lot, but while working for social justice is hard,
most educators know that change has to happen both inside and outside schools if
underserved or marginalized students are to have access to real opportunity.
We begin with what we can do inside schools. There are many ways to work
for social justice within schools. Too many kids of color are being suspended and
inappropriately referred to special education; too few English-language learners are
in bilingual or dual language programs, and too many languish for years in English
development classes in English-only programs; too many schools depend on zero
tolerance discipline policies and a police presence in schools instead of restora-
tive justice approaches that reduce suspensions. Too many schools fail to provide
art, music, physical education, and a whole child approach to instruction. Too few
schools have close relations with the local community and integrated services.
These are all important social justice issues, and they are within the immediate
control of schools, but they will not address the larger structural issues that can
lead to failure and are a result of broader social and education policies (Anyon,
2014; Berliner, 2009). History has taught us that the great social advancements,
such as the eight-hour workday, collective bargaining, the Voting Rights Act, mar-
riage equality, Social Security, the dismantling of Jim Crow laws, the Fair Housing
Act, and even bilingual and special education, were only achieved through political
advocacy and organizing.
We are beginning to see a social justice movement that operates both within
and outside schools. Social justice work inside schools, such as that which we enu-
merated earlier, has received more scholarly attention, but there is a growing so-
cial movement, led by educators, that is challenging educational and social policies
that hurt children, families, and communities. There is a proliferation of teacher,
 THE POLITICS OF EDUCATION POLICY 13

parent, student, union, and principal movements against high-stakes testing, school
closings, gentrification and displacement, racism, deportations, fiscal inequities,
large class sizes, zero tolerance discipline, Islamophobia, privatization, corporate
influence, for-profit education, the militarization of schools, vouchers, charter co-
location, and many more. The late Jean Anyon (2014) argued that several aspects of
the machinery necessary to mobilize citizens around education are already in place:

1. Schools occupy both the physical and the psychological center of neighbor-
hoods and communities.
2. The civil rights movement successfully made the claim that access to a quality
public education is a civil right.
3. Parents face personal incentives to press for quality education for their children.
4. Teachers and administrators have access to community members that they can
help organize.

The seeds of change are everywhere today, sometimes led by teachers, such as in
the rolling 2018 strikes and walkouts of teachers in several states, and sometimes
even led by the very students that are being impacted by education and social poli-
cies. In 2018, students across the country walked out in solidarity with the Parkland
High School students in Florida, who, like previous students, had been the vic-
tims of gun violence. The Dreamers and anti-deportation movement has also been
largely led by students. It was also high school students who led the movement for
educational and social change in the U.S., Mexico, and France in 1968; in Beijing
in 1989; and in Chile in 2011.
During the modern U.S. civil rights movement, it was African American high
school and college students in Birmingham, Alabama, who raised the awareness of
White Americans who watched them on the evening news being attacked by Bull
Connor’s dogs and fire hoses. And while this strategic exposure catapulted the civil
rights movement from a regional to a national movement, there had been many
prior civil rights battles fought since reconstruction against great odds by students,
parents, and educators (Hale, 2016; Payne, 1995/2007, Siddle Walker, 1996).
Perhaps the most important example of the power of change from below is
the history behind Brown v. Board of Education, a landmark ruling that made “sep-
arate” schooling for Black children illegal. In the fall of 1950, after many unsuc-
cessful attempts to hold Topeka, Kansas, public schools accountable for denying
its Black elementary school students admission to their neighborhood schools,
the Topeka chapter of the NAACP (National Association for the Advancement
of Colored People) organized its members and allies to challenge the doctrine of
“separate-but-equal” in education. In Topeka, Black students were forced to travel
outside their neighborhoods to attend Black segregated schools because their neigh-
borhood schools, while closer in proximity and thus more convenient, refused to
admit Black students.
But the alliance that the NAACP organized was built on the shoulders of
the work of previous struggles against even greater odds. This 1950 struggle was
the twelfth school desegregation case to be brought forth in Kansas since 1881.
14 THE POLITICS OF EDUCATION POLICY

Topeka’s NAACP chapter president, McKinley Burnett; secretary, Lucinda Todd;

and lawyers, Charles Scott, John Scott, and Charles Burnett, enlisted thirteen
parents (representing twenty children) to join a class action lawsuit, arguing that
Topeka’s system of segregated schools violated their equal protection rights under
the Fourteenth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution. To prove this, each parent
would go to her neighborhood school to enroll her child, secure evidence of denied
enrollment, and provide documentation to the NAACP legal team to serve as the
basis for the lawsuit. Oliver L. Brown, the only male parent, was designated lead
plaintiff in Oliver L. Brown et al. v. The Board of Education of Topeka (KS), which was
filed on February 28, 1951.
Although the U.S. District Court ruled in favor of the Topeka school board,
this would not be the end of Brown et al. The plaintiffs appealed their case to the U.S.
Supreme Court, and although Brown v. Board of Education (1954) is most often asso-
ciated with Topeka, Kansas, it comprised five separate segregation cases including
Delaware (Belton v. Gebhart), Washington, D.C. (Bolling v. Sharp), South Carolina
(Briggs v. Elliot), Virginia (Davis v. County School Board of Prince Edward County), and
Kansas (Brown v. Board). Each filed in 1951, these five lawsuits were either unsuc-
cessful in their lower courts or won their local cases only to be confronted with
White institutions and power structures that still refused to admit Black students,
even if it meant breaking the law. Nonetheless, the collective of parents, student
leaders, civil rights attorneys, and community organizers and activists representing
Topeka, Kansas; Wilmington, Delaware; Washington, D.C.; Clarendon County,
South Carolina; and Richmond, Virginia mobilized to resist racial discrimination
and segregation in schools. They fought not for the right of Black children to attend
schools with White children but rather for the right of Black children to attend
well-resourced neighborhood schools just like White children did. Despite how
it has been framed in mainstream education policy discourses, scholars have doc-
umented the extent to which the fight was less about separate and more about equal
(Bell, 2004; Horsford, 2011, 2016; Shujaa, 1996; Walker, 2005).
While this book is about collective action and change, it is also about ideas.
Like Brown, all of these social struggles represent the complex and competing ideas,
values, and ideologies that are struggled for and negotiated in the public sphere.
The works of political theorists and legal scholars like Deborah Stone (2002) and
Martha Minow (2002) are especially useful in underscoring the significance of ideas
as “the very stuff of politics” (Stone, p. 34). As Stone observed,

People fight about ideas, fight for them, and fight against them. Political con-
flict is never simply over material conditions and choices, but over what is legit-
imate. The passion in politics comes from conflicting senses of fairness, justice,
rightness, and goodness. Moreover, people fight with ideas as well as about
them. The different sides in a conflict create different portrayals of the battle –
who is affected, how they are affected, and what is at stake. Political fights are
conducted with money, with rules, with votes, and with favors, to be sure, but
they are conducted above all with words and ideas.
(Stone, 2002, p. 34) [emphasis added]
 THE POLITICS OF EDUCATION POLICY 15

These ideas, as informed by the values and ideologies of individuals, communi-

ties, and other policy actors, are key to understanding what animates their sup-
port and advocacy for certain policy proposals and political agendas over others.
According to Stone (2002), the public interest exists within the polis—the place
where political values are best deliberated and negotiated—but lacks value in the
counterpart to the polis, the market. But even in the polis, the notion of public
interest can conflict with private desires. For example, in the case of school deseg-
regation discussed earlier, the unwillingness of White school administrators and
school boards to enroll a Black child in her nearby neighborhood school reflects
what Horsford (2016) described as “social justice for the advantaged,” whereby
the private desires of the dominant group hold greater value than the public
good, undermining any meaningful efforts to address educational inequality in
America’s schools.
We also see a clash of perspectives and values when those who are relatively
privileged but self-identify as politically liberal fail to understand why members
of urban, low-income communities might choose a charter school over a public
school or why they might support vouchers. Often, they may not be making these
choices for ideological reasons but rather for reasons that have more to do with
calculations based on a different social reality and a paucity of better options (see
Pedroni, 2007). This suggests that coalitions for change should include or be led by
low-income communities whose members live out the consequences of decisions
made by those who influence education and social policy.
However, we are increasingly seeing what used to be considered urban is-
sues occurring in rural areas: an increase of immigrant populations and English-
language learners, a serious drug addiction problem, and increased poverty as good
jobs are harder to find. There are even ways in which low-income rural children
and youth are sometimes more disadvantaged. For instance, if students live in
public housing in the Bronx, they can live at home and go to college. Youth on
the Navajo reservation or in rural West Virginia often incur the additional cost of
moving and paying for housing to attend college. Leaders in many rural areas ne-
gotiate between factions of a community that support a separation of church and
state, and others that want prayer or Christian values, such as creationism, taught
in schools. Empowering a local community may have different outcomes in urban
areas where church and state separation is more likely to be taken-for-granted than
in the so-called “Bible belt,” where communities may expect schools to reflect their
religious values.
Add to this the fact that, as the U.S. becomes more unequal and segregated by
class, race, and political ideology, the middle class has become more economically
anxious, and working-class Americans have seen the well-paid union jobs of their
parents slowly disappear. This has resulted in less generosity toward others and a
circling of the wagons against those perceived as outsiders or undeserving. Some
of these anxious Americans have also formed social movements, such as the Tea
Party, and since President Trump’s election, there has been a revival of various hate
groups (Thrush & Haberman, 2017). In this climate, we need, more than ever,
strong social institutions and a public sphere in which informed deliberation can
16 THE POLITICS OF EDUCATION POLICY

take place. We need public schools that prepare more than human capital for the
economy. We also need them to prepare informed citizens capable of reenergizing
a democracy diminished by corporate and moneyed interests, and civic indifference
or cynicism.
This book brings the world of action and ideas together to redefine leadership
and to develop it at all levels of education. We also hope to convince educators that
in the current political climate, they need to add critical policy analysis, which we
describe in Chapter 2, to their professional “toolkit.” Framed by the critical policy
analysis literature and written with students of educational leadership and policy
and their faculty in mind, this book presents an alternative to traditional education
policy and politics texts by focusing on issues of power, voice, democratic participa-
tion, reproduction of inequality in the policymaking process, and their implications
for school leaders, teachers, and their students.

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CHAPTER 2

Critical Policy Analysis

Interrogating Process, Politics,
and Power

For the last twenty years, critical scholars have worked to challenge and reshape
what counts as education policy research (Anyon, 2005). Traditional policy anal-
ysis, while viewed to be an objective scientific process, has faced growing criti-
cism. Its emphasis on a planned, linear, and incremental policy process of (1) issue
or problem definition, (2) consultation and adoption, (3) implementation, and
(4) monitoring and evaluation (Lasswell, 1936/1990) fails to account for unequal
distributions of power, resources, and opportunity, and how they inform the extent
to which policies work, for whom, and to what end. As part of this larger tradition,
education policy research continues to reflect these taken-for-granted assumptions
concerning rationality, positivism, and narrow conceptions of evidence that dis-
count the ways in which process, politics, people, and power play important roles
in how education policy is created, understood, and experienced.
In this chapter, we contrast traditional approaches to policy analysis with critical
policy analysis (CPA), the latter of which provides a realist perspective for analyzing
policy in an era of widening inequality and political divisions across lines of race,
class, gender, geography, and citizenship. But before we discuss CPA, there are two
areas of conceptual confusion that need to be clarified. One is the confusing termi-
nology that gets thrown around to describe what have become political “camps.”
This requires a discussion of liberalism as a political ideology and three branches
of liberalism foundational to understanding contemporary U.S. education policy—
classical liberalism, neoliberalism, and social democracy. The other is confusion or disa-
greements over the goals of schooling (both K-12 and postsecondary) in American
society. These goals have drifted dangerously close to a view of schooling that is
exclusively utilitarian.
We then present a guiding framework for CPA based on the following fea-
tures: (1) challenging traditional notions of power, politics, and governance; (2) examining
policy as discourse and political spectacle; (3) centering the perspectives of the marginalized and
oppressed; (4) interrogating the distribution of power and resources; and (5) holding those in
22 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS

power accountable for policy outcomes. This chapter closes with a discussion of how these
key features of CPA can be used to assess and perhaps recast current conceptions of
schooling, education policy discourses, and school leadership practice and praxis in
ways that reclaim and advance the democratic ideal in American education.

THE POWER OF IDEOLOGY: LIBERALISM, CAPITALISM,

AND AMERICA’S SCHOOLS

A political ideology is “a certain set of ethical ideals, principles, doctrines, myths or

symbols of a social movement, institution, class, or large group that explains how
society should work, and offers some political and cultural blueprint for a certain
social order.” Its primary concern is the allocation of power and who benefits from
how social goods are allocated. Since 1980, neoliberalism has been the prevailing
ideology in American policy and politics, and the field of education has proven no
exception. The expansion of school choice, privatization, venture philanthropy, ed-
ucation entrepreneurialism, and other market-based approaches to reform are just
some examples of how neoliberal values and principles have permeated the land-
scape. A critical engagement and analysis of such policies requires an understanding
of the political ideologies and assumptions that inform neoliberal education policy
and reform.

Liberalism and U.S. Education Policy

Liberalism is globally triumphant . . . whether in right- or left-wing versions,
the dominant outlook of the modern age.
(Mills, 2017, p. 28)

A political ideology emerging from Europe during the 17th and 18th centuries,
liberalism is “predicated on the equal rights of morally equal individuals” (p. 5) and
reflects a range of perspectives including everything from social democratic con-
ceptions of liberalism to free market or “neoliberal” notions, which have gained
significant traction over the last twenty years in the education policy arena. Politi-
cal theorists such as John Locke, David Hume, Immanuel Kant, Adam Smith, and
John Stuart Mill reflect the leading thinkers of liberal ideology, and their writings,
perspectives, and epistemologies are visible in contemporary education policy—at
least to the eye of the critical policy analyst or observer. Informed largely by “ideal
theory” (Mills, 2017, p. 75; Rawls, 1971), liberalism focuses on concepts such as
justice, equity, liberty, and freedom in ways that idealized society and its insti-
tutions, and was largely silent on issues of oppression and exclusion from these
ideals.
One could argue that holding an ideal theory of society gives us something
to work toward. Yet this ideal theory of liberalism has largely failed to acknowl-
edge how different such idealized assumptions are from the everyday lived expe-
riences of humans, their capacities, interaction, institutions, and society (Mills,
 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS 23

2017, p. 77). Although predicated on the equal rights of equal individuals, the liber-
alism on which American was founded has fallen far short of its espoused ideals and
remains silent on questions of racism, sexism, discrimination, disenfranchisement,
and oppression. As noted in the previous chapter, in education, agree that public
schools should be “the great equalizer,” those with more economic, social, and cul-
tural capital manipulate our system of education for their own children’s benefit.
As political philosopher Charles Mills (2017) explained,

The promise of liberalism was famously the granting of equal rights to all
individuals, destroying the old social hierarchies and establishing a new so-
cial order where everybody, as an individual, could flourish, free of “estate”
membership. But the reality turned out to be the preservation, albeit on a
new theoretical foundation, of old hierarchies of gender and the establish-
ment of new hierarchies of race. Thus, the struggle to realize the liberal ideal
for everybody and not just a privileged minority still continues today, centu-
ries later. If this struggle is ever to be successful, a prerequisite must be the
acknowledgement of the extent to which dominant varieties of liberalism
have developed so as to be complicit with rather than in opposition to social
oppression.
(p. xxi)

Thus, a mere critique of liberalism without an understanding of how they have

been fed and sustained at the cultural level by racism, patriarchy, and classism
is insufficient. Nor will we get very far with analyses of racism, patriarchy, and
classism without a critique of its historical entanglements with the political
economy of liberalism and neoliberalism. What is needed then is not an ideal
theory of liberalism but rather a “non-ideal theory” that recognizes how capi-
talism intersects with patriarchy, White supremacy, and classism (Mills, 2017).
In the following sections, we highlight three branches of liberalism: (a) classical
liberalism, (b) neoliberalism, and (c) social democracy (liberalism/progressivism
with social justice goals).

Classical Liberalism
While a full description of classical liberalism would fill the entire book, we will
focus on two of its most important elements: individual liberty and economic lib-
erty. Liberalism emerged as a reaction against monarchies and state religions that
diminished the freedom of individuals. Notions of freedom of speech, freedom of
the press, separation of church and state, and free markets were considered revolu-
tionary ideas. In the late 18th century, American and French revolutions appropri-
ated many liberal ideas as they formed republics. John Locke, credited as one of its
founders, argued that men (but not necessarily women) had a natural right to life,
liberty, and property.
These terms have been contested over time, with libertarians arguing for a nar-
rower interpretation in terms of the role of the state, which they believe should be
24 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS

limited to police and military or the protection of life and property. Other liberals
have viewed the role of state more broadly in ensuring greater equity and social
welfare. The notion of economic liberty has been a mainstay of Liberalism, with
Adam Smith viewing laissez-faire capitalism and markets as more moral than the
corrupt systems they were replacing in the 18th century. Free-market ideas would
reemerge in the 20th century, promoted by economists like Friedrich Hayak,
Milton Freidman, and James Buchanan. This more extreme form of economic
liberalism, which has taken hold as a key feature of education reform and policy,
is referred to generally as neoliberalism, although neoliberals can be progressive on
social and cultural issues.

From Social Democracy to Neoliberalism

Classical liberalism emphasized political freedom and individual rights (individ-
ual liberalism) and supported capitalist relations of production, private property,
and unregulated markets (economic liberalism). But by the 1920s, unregulated
capitalism had generated massive inequalities that resulted in the stock market
crash of 1929 and a deep depression into the 1930s. A powerful labor movement
pressured the Roosevelt administration to embrace what Polanyi (1944) and later
Harvey (2005) called embedded liberalism. Others use terms like social democracy or
in the case of Bernie Sanders, democratic socialism, that is, free trade and markets
would be embedded in regulations determined by national governments. It also
meant that the individual, who in the 1930s was unprotected from chronic un-
employment, disability, support in old age, etc., would be embedded in a welfare
state that would provide social supports. This Keynesian, mixed economy, eco-
nomic theory and the notion of embedded liberalism was dominant well into the
1970s.
This terminology can be confusing since in the U.S. context, “liberals” were
often viewed more colloquially as slightly left of center on the political spectrum,
generally contrasted with conservatives. To the extent that they were embedded
liberals, they were liberals who supported welfare state policies. They also tended
to have progressive views on social policies regarding race, class, gender, and sexual
orientation. This tended to describe the Democratic Party during the post-WWII
years, but a split within the party in the 1980s further complicated the terminology.
Within the U.S., “neoliberal” was first used in the mid-1980s to refer to a group
of Democrats—including Bill Clinton—who helped to establish the Democratic
Leadership Council, an organization within the Democratic Party that promoted
free-trade policies (Rothenberg, 1984). They formed a think tank called the Pro-
gressive Policy Institute (PPI) that continues to promote their free-trade or “neo-
liberal” policies.
The reason they were referred to as neoliberals was that they wanted to dis-
embed liberalism and return it to less regulated trade and markets. These Dem-
ocrat neoliberals produced policies such as the North American Free Trade Act
(NAFTA) and the repeal of the Banking Act of 1933 or the Glass-Steagall Act,
 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS 25

which separated commercial and investment banking. Some have argued that the
repeal of Glass-Steagall led ultimately to the 2008 bailout of the banks and the en-
suing recession (Stiglitz, 2010). Both of these disembedding policies were accom-
plished during the Clinton administration. Although initiated by Ronald Reagan,
neoliberal policies were generally supported by both Republican Bush administra-
tions (father and son), the Democratic Clinton and Obama administrations, and
the Trump administration.
However, while both Clinton and Obama followed a neoliberal ideology on
economics (economic liberalism), they retained classical liberal notions of individ-
ual rights (individual liberalism), particularly regarding gender; race; and, eventu-
ally, sexual orientation. On economic issues, they were neoliberal, while on social
and cultural issues, they were progressive. Today, there appears to be a realignment
of both political parties that is still not well understood. Both parties were massively
rejected in the 2016 election that brought Donald Trump to power with similar
realignments occurring in England, France, and other countries. Until relatively
recently, “neoliberalism” was more likely to be pronounced “neoliberalismo” since
it referred to polices of structural adjustment that were demanded by international or-
ganizations like the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund in exchange
for loans to developing nations. Structural adjustment was a euphemism for the
creation of free markets and the privatization of national industries (Grugel & Rig-
girozzi, 2007).
While neoliberalism in its more global sense refers to the free-market economic
models developed by Milton Freidman, Gary Becker, and other economists at the
University of Chicago, its pervasiveness has extended to the political and cultural
domains of society. In the political domain, new policy actors and networks and new
forms of non-State governance have promoted neoliberal ideals that have changed
the political landscape of the U.S. and the entire globe. At the cultural level, neo-
liberalism has changed how we teach, lead, and live our lives. In Chapter 7, we will
describe in more detail how neoliberalism and the transfer of market and business
principles into the public sector have changed what it means to be a professional.

Is Neoliberalism the Same as Capitalism?

For some, a critique of global neoliberalism is equivalent to a critique of capitalism.
Such critics argue that neoliberalism is merely a later stage of capitalism and these
critics use terms like “late capitalism” (a more predatory and culturally pervasive
form) or “fast capitalism” (digitally enabled global capitalism). Marxist theorist,
David Harvey, has argued that neoliberalism is grounded in class struggle, and that
it represents a major global victory for the capitalist class (Harvey, 2005). Mark
Fisher (2009) referred to “capitalist realism” in the sense that capitalism has be-
come our reality, our common sense, and we can imagine nothing else. Fukuyama
(1992) trumpeted the “end of history” after the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989. Post-
Communist Capitalism no longer had any competition for our hearts and minds.
It was the new normal.
26 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS

In 1848, Marx and Engels (1848), in The Manifesto of the Communist Party, ob-
served a similar process of normalization during the earliest stage of Capitalism, as
it replaced feudalism:

Capital has drowned the most heavenly ecstasies of religious fervor, of chiv-
alrous enthusiasm, of philistine sentimentalism, in the icy water of egotistical
calculation. It has resolved personal worth into exchange value, and in place of
the numberless indefeasible chartered freedoms, has set up that single, uncon-
scionable freedom—Free Trade. In one word, for exploitation, veiled by reli-
gious and political illusions, it has substituted naked, shameless, direct, brutal
exploitation.
(pp. 15–16)

While under feudalism, “religious and political illusions” had previously “veiled”
exploitation, today, some argue that exploitation—of both people and the planet—
is veiled by the notion that there is no alternative to capitalism, even as its obsession
with 3% annual growth threatens humans with extinction (Klein, 2015).
From 1917 to 1989, Communism, for a time, was viewed by some as an alterna-
tive to capitalism, though it is unlikely that Marx and Engels would have approved
of what was done in their names. But by 1987, Margaret Thatcher famously said,
“there is no such thing as society. There are individual men and women, and there
are families.” She was also known for saying that despite Capitalism’s problems,
“there is no alternative.” This mantra became common sense, and was known as
the TINA principle. Life after the end of history was life under unbridled and un-
opposed capitalism. You could either celebrate it or be resigned to it, but there was
no room for dream and utopia.
Most Americans, however, were not anti-capitalist but preferred notions of
good and bad capitalism. Neoliberals see good capitalism as unregulated markets
in which the state has a marginal role (Baumol, Litan, & Schramm, 2007) and pro-
gressives or social democrats saw good capitalism as being embedded in a regulatory
State and redistributive social policies (Stiglitz, 2010). Neoliberals believe unregu-
lated capitalism was so successful in the private sector that it should be transferred
to the public sector. They see the public sector, not as a collective public sphere
promoting a common good but rather as a potential profit center and a market
monopoly to be broken up. The notion that public schools are a “monopoly” only
makes sense if one views the public sector as a marketplace.
The country with perhaps the longest history with neoliberalism is Chile.
Neoliberal policies were imposed throughout the economy under the Pinochet
dictatorship that was in power from 1973 to 1990. As a result of privatization under
Pinochet, most public services, including social security, are privatized. A mere
37% of Chile’s schools are public and serve the poorest families. And yet Chile has
experienced the largest education-centered student movement in the world (Bellei,
Cabalin, & Orellana, 2014). Even under extreme forms of neoliberalism, school
leaders find ways to create humanizing forms of education. See Box 2.1 for an ac-
count of Tamara Contreras and the democratic public school she has fostered there.
 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS 27

B O X 2 .1 T A M A R A C O N T R E R A S , P R I N C I P A L , L I C E O C O N F E D E R A C I O N S U I Z A
(S W I S S C O N F E D E R AT I O N H I G H S C H O O L ), S A N T I AG O, C H IL E

Chile’s education system is one of the most highly stratified in the world. The
country became a laboratory for Milton Freidman’s neoliberal policies during
the Pinochet dictatorship (1973–1990) and these policies were written into the
constitution, making them impossible to change without a constitutional
convention. In Chile, about 8% of students attend elite, independent private
schools. Another 55% attend private government-subsidized schools. These
are somewhat like U.S. charter schools, except that they can charge tuition,
though some do not. Only 37% of students attend public schools. Swiss
confederation high school is a public school, although it is located in a working-
class community with a large immigrant population as opposed to an area of
extreme poverty (called “poblaciones” in Chile). The school receives those
students who live nearby or whose parents cannot afford a private subsidized
school. As in the U.S., principals are under tremendous pressure to raise scores
on standardized tests, mainly the Sistema de Medición de la Calidad de la
Educación (Education Quality Measurement System, SIMCE). Public schools
are mandated to extend the academic day to 5:00 pm in hopes of raising test
scores.
Tamara Contreras brings a radically participatory stance to her school.
Schools are mandated to hold four school decision-making council meetings a
year. These councils are supposed to include parents but are typically window
dressing or controlled by the principal, as has traditionally occurred in many
schools in the U.S. (Malen, 1994). Tamara not only holds these formal meetings
ten times a year, but they are well attended and promote authentic and often
tense dialogues about school priorities. In addition, she holds informal “assem-
blies” with students and teachers as a way to model democratic decision-
making about everyday issues in the school.
One result of this participatory process was a collective decision by
students and teachers to refuse to administer the SIMCE exam, which they
have not administered for five years. Out from under the testing pressures,
students, teachers, and parents decided to use the extended school day time
for after-school programs that students were involved in selecting and organ-
izing. These programs address the more affective, artistic, physical, activist,
and creative sides of the students, and are an additional motivation for students
to attend school.
After widespread consultation, they created a rich array of after-school
programs on issues of interest to students and teachers. Their after-school
programs fall into three categories: critical thinking/consciousness, health
28 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS

and sports, and the arts. So, the after-school curriculum includes rap/
hip-hop (technique and composition); blues and jazz; debate; Mapuzungun
language and culture; street art; community radio; yoga; martial arts;
popular and self-education; critical theater; social movements; batucada;
and more traditional classes, like basketball, dance, chess, and some
precollege academic classes. The school’s walls are covered with murals
the students from the street art class have painted, many with political
themes.
Tamara is constantly calculating how far she can push on the district poli-
cies. When one of us visited her school in Santiago, she confided that she
wasn’t sure how long her superiors would support her. Tamara is able to lead a
school that teaches grassroots participation and critical consciousness,
because she has built alliances with her students’ parents and the larger
community who defend her and their school. Here is a video (in Spanish) of
Tamara and Liceo Confederacion Suiza: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=
uFm3Q_3eibM.

One result of the triumph of neoliberalism since the 1980s is that the goals
of public schooling, which historically have changed as dominant ideologies have
shifted, are now almost exclusively economic. In the following section, we will dis-
cuss how the goals of public schooling have shifted over time and how economic
goals have crowded out the others.

NEOLIBERALISM, THE EDUCATION “CRISIS,” AND THE

GOALS OF SCHOOLING

The goals of our educational system have ranged from providing literacy for read-
ing the Bible to “save our souls,” to the formation of human capital to enhance
our competitiveness in a global economy. Along the way, it has served, among
other goals, to “Americanize” immigrants, provide homemaking and vocational
skills, transmit a common set of values, and socialize the young into our demo-
cratic political system. Two decades ago, Labaree (1997) documented the shift in
how Americans viewed the goals of schooling, as reflected in Table 2.1, from both
an economic and humanistic perspective and with a focus on the individual and the
social. These competing goals are important to understanding how neoliberalism
has positioned itself effectively to address the “crisis” of American education—a
narrative developed successfully from the mid-1980s to the present—kept alive
until, as Friedman (1962) explained, “the politically impossible becomes politically
inevitable” (p. ix).
 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS 29

Table 2.1 Goals of Schooling

Economic Humanistic

Individual Individual self-interest Personal fulfillment and

enhancement
Social Social efficiency Democratic citizenship

Economic Goals of Schooling: Social Efficiency and

Individual Self-Interest
The currently dominant goal of social efficiency and its link to human capital has
been a rallying cry for school reform since the Soviet Union put Sputnik, the first
satellite, into space. The link between schooling and the economy, again, came
to the fore when the U.S. economy was perceived as falling behind that of Japan
and Germany in the late 1970s (National Commission on Excellence in Education,
1983). A 2007 report of the Commission on the Skills of the American Workforce,
Tough Choices or Tough Times, makes a similar argument, replacing competition from
Japan and Germany with competition from India and China. Human capital theory
and school-to-work programs continue to link schooling and economic growth, as
well as argue that the “new” economy will produce a need for more highly skilled
workers. What is becoming increasingly clearer is that the promise of an increase in
demand for highly skilled workers in an information-age society has not material-
ized, largely because of automation and outsourcing. According to economist James
K. Galbraith (1998),

What the existing economy needs is a fairly small number of first-rate technical
talents combined with a small super class of managers and financiers, on top
of a vast substructure of nominally literate and politically apathetic working
people.
(pp. 34–35)

So, while social efficiency goals may not increase national productivity, nor lead
to better jobs, they have served as a way to make schools a scapegoat for national
ills as well as a way for educators to argue for greater investment in education. In
other words, regardless of who appropriates the human capital discourse, it has
largely been used as a legitimating ritual for either supporting education fund-
ing or scapegoating schools when the economy performs poorly. While human
capital theory has been a useful tool for both liberals and conservatives, some
have suggested replacing it with a discourse of human rights, which empha-
sizes humans as ends in themselves rather than means to greater productivity
(Hantzopoulos, 2016).
The individual version of the social efficiency goal of schooling is what Labaree
called individual self-interest, which he argues has become the central motivating force
30 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS

of Americans. But individual self-interest cannot serve as a national ideal to inspire

young people and, while it was always a force in American society, it was often
tempered by larger ideals of democracy and equity. In a world in which students in
elementary school are already building resumes for college, education has, accord-
ing to Pope (2001), become “doing school, where they learn a hidden curriculum
that includes manipulating the system, lying, sucking up, and doing whatever else it
takes to keep a high grade-point average.” (p. 4). As these students take their places
as leaders, whether in the private or public sectors, they will find little incentive to
change their behaviors.
Some socialist theorists see a more sinister set of goals that explain the vast re-
structuring of U.S. education advanced during the last three decades. These largely
unstated goals, they argue, have been part of the Bush administration’s No Child
Left Behind Act, the Obama administration’s Race to the Top, and proposals by
the Trump Administration. Socialist scholar, John Bellamy Foster (2016), argues
that dominant policy networks work for the vested interests of capital and seek to:
(1) form a labor force of cheerful robots; (2) eliminate critical thinking from schools;
(3) generate immense profits for the education industry and information firms;
(4) end teacher tenure, seize control of classrooms from professional educators, and
break teachers’ unions; (5) privatize public education through charter schools and
other means; (6) facilitate private profits and financial speculation through control
of government education funding; (7) merge education for large sections of the
poor and racial minorities with the military and penal systems; (8) decrease the role
of democracy in education while increasing the corporate role; (9) create databases
with detailed biometrics on almost everyone, to be exploited by corporations; and
(10) manage the population in what is a potentially fractious society divided by race
and class (para 2). While scholars may disagree on what motivates recent neoliberal
shifts in the goals of schooling, the ripple effect of this shift is a pulling back from
policies that benefit the common good, and toward policies that allow the mid-
dle and upper classes to cash in their relative advantage in economic, social, and
cultural capital.

Humanistic Goals of Schooling: Personal Fulfillment and

Democratic Citizenship
As a neoliberal economic model has become more dominant, humanistic goals for
schools have receded in importance as neoliberalism has reduced the goals of pub-
lic schooling to economic ones. For the individual, this means economic upward
social mobility, and for the U.S., it means producing human capital that will make
us more competitive in the global economy. There is very little evidence that K-12
schooling does either of those things (Levin, 1998). In fact, some have argued that
schools serve to reproduce social class, gendered and racial hierarchies (Bourdieu &
Passeron, 1990).
A notion of education for personal fulfillment and enhancement is currently
viewed as elitist by many and appropriate only for affluent children. Education for
democratic citizenship, or what we once called civics, has been diminished or replaced
 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS 31

by the teaching of authoritarian forms of patriotism in many schools (Nguyen,

2016). In many cases, especially when the country is at war, teaching the skills of
public debate on current issues is viewed as risky and controversial in many schools
(Anderson, 2009; Westheimer, 2007). While one could argue that the humanis-
tic goals of education were never dominant, the economic goals have undeniably
become front and center in the wake of the ascendancy of neoliberalism with its
emphasis on the individual as human capital and its promotion of a neoliberal State
that has intensified competition among individuals.
The good news is that there is considerable pushback on schooling as focus-
ing mainly on cognition and testing. Elsewhere, we have discussed the national
“opt out of testing” movement led by parents and educators. There is also a
growing awareness of a need for citizenship education, although the form it
should take is still debated. Irish feminist scholar, Kathleen Lynch (2012), sums
up the essential problem of limiting education to the economic and individual
realms:

Neoliberalism has deepened the disrespect for the relationally engaged, caring
citizen that it has inherited from classical liberalism by devaluing not only the
emotional work that has to be done to care, but by validating consumption and
possessive individualism as defining features of human identity. Competitive
individualism is no longer seen as an amoral necessity, but rather as a desirable
and necessary attribute for a constantly reinventing entrepreneur. Neoliberal
thinking in education has succeeded in doing what classical liberalism did
not do; it subordinates and trivializes those aspects of education that have no
(measurable) market value.
(p. 83)

A GUIDING FRAMEWORK FOR CRITICAL POLICY

ANALYSIS (CPA)

Most policy analysts use a framework that includes several phases of the policy
process beginning with the definition of a problem and ending with the implemen-
tation and evaluation of a policy. While critical policy analysts tend to emphasize
the powerful actors who define problems and solutions, and who influence the pol-
icy process (Domhoff, 1999), they would acknowledge that there are at least three
broad phases, including (1) problem definition, (2) policy process, and (3) policy
implementation. The first phase of issue or problem definition addresses how the policy
issue or problem is defined. A critical approach also asks what “counts” as a problem
or issue and who is defining it (Bacchi, 1999). The next phase is the policy process
itself. Political systems theory argues that problems may get organized as demands
on the political system and enter the system either as a court case or a bill that is
introduced into a state or national legislature. It then exits as a new policy or case
law (Easton, 1965). Not all policies go through state or national legislatures but are
proposed at the local level though city councils, school boards, school districts, or
32 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS

schools. Even classrooms have policies that may either be imposed by the teacher or
negotiated with students. At this stage of the policy process, CPA would highlight
how legislative processes are influenced by powerful interests, as our discussion
of the American Legislative Exchange Council illustrates in the following chapter.
The last stage is policy implementation, in which the policy or law becomes prac-
tice and is eventually institutionalized and periodically evaluated. A classic study
of policy implementation was Weatherly and Lipsky’s (1977) study of the imple-
mentation of the 1974 special education law in the state of Massachusetts (which
the following year became federal policy as the Education for All Handicapped
Children Act, EHA). A major finding of this study was the insight that ultimately
practitioners are themselves policymakers to the extent that they decide at the street
level which aspects of the policy they will implement. This led to theories of “mu-
tual adaptation” which acknowledged that successful policies had to be adapted to
the context of those implementing it (McLaughlin, 1976). Some analysts prefer the
term “enactment” to implementation since it acknowledges the agency that teach-
ers and leaders have in the policy process (Braun, Ball, Maguire, & Hoskins, 2011).
However, as experimental research designs became the gold standard for education
research, the notion of “fidelity” of implementation has become popular among
neoliberal reformers.
As a research strategy and methodological approach, CPA interrogates pro-
cesses, politics, and power. Unlike traditional policy analysis, which focuses on
rationality, positivism, and narrow conceptions of “evidence,” CPA is concerned
with the subjectivity and complexity associated with all stages of the policy
process, particularly the effect of its outcomes for disenfranchised people and
communities (Diem, Young, Welton, Mansfield, & Lee, 2014). This is of particu-
lar concern when statistical studies of policy reduce complex social categories,
like race, class, and gender, into one-dimensional variables. CPA is still a devel-
oping method and form of analysis, but here, we extend the work of scholars who
have examined the emergence of CPA as an analytical approach, highlighting
five key features of CPA that we believe are integral to this work: (1) challenging
traditional notions of power, politics, and governance; (2) examining policy as
discourse and political spectacle; (3) centering the perspectives of the margin-
alized and oppressed; (4) interrogating the distribution of power and resources;
and (5) holding those in power accountable for policy outcomes. In Chapter 9,
we introduce a critical policy praxis that is based on these tenets with a focus on
reflection and action.

Challenging Traditional Notions of Power, Politics, and Governance

Critical policy analysts have often critiqued the traditional policy process for being
too linear, rational, and wedded to narrow conceptions of evidence. In the 1980s,
Kingdon (1984) drew on constructivist theories of organized anarchy in organi-
zational theory, providing a theory of multiple policy streams, in which policy came
about when windows of opportunity converged with political agendas and policy
entrepreneurs, who have grown in number and influence. Post-structural policy
 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS 33

analysis presents an even less rational view of the policy process, describing policy
as a process of bricolage. Ball (1998) argues that policy is

a matter of borrowing and copying bits and pieces of ideas from elsewhere ….
cannibalizing theories, research, trends, and fashions and not infrequently flail-
ing around for anything at all that looks as though it might work. Most policies
are ramshackle, compromise, hit and miss, affairs, that are reworked, tinkered
with, nuanced and inflected through complex processes of influence, text pro-
duction, dissemination and, ultimately, re-creation in contexts of practice.
(p. 126)

In this view, policy is produced, resisted, and reshaped in many different sites other
than legislatures as well as through the production of texts and what Ball (2008)
calls “little p-policies,” policies that are often not formally codified but nevertheless
become institutional practices. Gilborn (2014) argues that these big-p and little-p
policies are always infused, often in ways difficult to discern through a traditional
policy lens, with racism, patriarchy, and classism (see also Anyon, 2014; Fraser,
2013; Moses, 2002; Scott & Holme, 2017 for how policy is infused with racism,
classism, and patriarchy).
What these more constructivist theories argue is that policies are always in play
and that they can be influenced at all levels by strategic actions and advocacy. And
yet, while the policy process is not linear, rational, or deterministic, there are major
concentrations of power, and there are new, well-funded policy networks that work
strategically to achieve their ideological projects (Ball & Junemann, 2012; Domhoff,
1999). Kingdon’s (1984) notion of networks of policy entrepreneurs pushing policy
agendas helps us understand how many policy actors outside the formal policy
system have come to amass great power. CPA expands our attention from the old
iron triangle of interest groups, executive agencies, and congressional representa-
tives (Sabatier, 1999) to a plethora of intermediary organizations, both nonprofit
and for-profit, to include actors such as think tanks, media, advocacy organizations,
edu-businesses, charter management organizations, and venture philanthropists.
The influence of these policy actors and the political strategies they use are referred
to as “new governance” which includes the ways that managerialist or business mod-
els have entered the public sector (Locke & Spender, 2011; Smyth, 1999). In other
words, at the macro-level, CPA is as focused on new governance and new policy net-
works as it is on traditional government and interest group interactions.
These new macro forms of governance have promoted managerialist and mar-
ket ideologies that have cascaded down to the organizational or microlevel. School
and district micropolitics are about understanding how power operates at the in-
formal organizational level, and how this less visible level of struggle influences
organizational outcomes in important ways. In the past, the analysis of micropo-
litics tended to draw on traditional “pluralist” notions of politics and power as
exercised in public arenas and typically involving a clash among individuals and
interest groups (Dahl, 1961). Newer views of power and politics employ theories
that stress the various ways people’s interests are shaped ideologically. This means
34 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS

that organizational politics involves both conflict over resources and over how is-
sues are cognitively framed.
Following Gramsci (Forgacs, 2000), many contemporary theorists argue that
the exercise of power includes not just conflict and negotiation in political arenas
but also the social construction of our very “interests” and “needs.” Thus, many in-
stances of discrimination and inequality in schools are not challenged because they
are taken for granted or viewed as “just the way things are.” Their existence comes
to be viewed as common sense and thus beyond question. This break with previous
behaviorist and pluralist notions of power has shifted attention to more unobtrusive
and cognitive modes of social control (Anderson & Grinberg, 1998; Lukes, 1974).
These more cognitive notions of power have helped to explain the outcomes of
conflict and political struggle (or the lack thereof) in a postindustrial, information
age in which the manipulation of public opinion has become a fine art (Kahne &
Bowyer, 2017; Lukes, 2005). Conflict management may involve helping people
negotiate immediate conflicts of interest, but it also includes the management of
meaning and the legitimacy of the organization—what is increasingly referred to as
“impression management.” This means that leaders are essentially mediators, who
mediate among people, among institutions, and among ideas. They are entrusted
with managing the legitimacy of the school and of the social arrangements sur-
rounding the school, including, for instance, racial and socioeconomic segregation
(Anderson, 2009; Meyer & Rowan, 1977).
This new view of power, discourse, and ideology means that the micropoli-
tics of schools involves a wider set of tactics and strategies than those described by
traditional micropolitical literature. Thompson (2008), for instance, discusses the
continuum of resistance and compliance among principals, which includes tactics
such as simulation (as in simulating consent while resisting), emulation (taking
actions to meet expectations), accommodation (e.g. complying in order to buy free-
dom from further surveillance), and creative forms of mediation (of structures and
policies). As our very subjectivities become privatized and we become normalized
by accountability regimes, resistance becomes increasingly difficult. Under such
conditions, the ask of teachers and leaders is to exercise a critical reflexivity with
their school communities, problematizing a policy culture that has become taken-
for-granted (Foucault, 1980).
We can see how the micropolitics of market regimes in education intersects
with race and class as urban principals negotiate the gentrification of their neigh-
borhoods and schools. In the context of gentrification in urban neighborhoods,
principals often become gatekeepers who are expected to mediate between the ex-
pectations of gentry parents and the concerns of local parents. This marketized
context of school choice introduces a new logic of action for principals who now
must become more entrepreneurial in how they think about the composition of
their student bodies. In a market regime that commodifies parents and students,
principals often encounter pressure to recruit these middle-class parents and the
resources they bring, sometimes at the expense of low-income families of color
who are displaced (Cucchiara, 2013; Posey-Maddox, 2014).
 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS 35

Examining Policy as Discourse and Political Spectacle

As described in the previous section, the policy process begins with problem defi-
nition and policy framing, which is critical to policy formation, implementation,
and outcomes. Powerful networks of think tanks and media have deftly promoted
narratives that lay deep in the American psyche. The viability and popularity of
neoliberal market reforms have been prepared discursively and through mecha-
nisms and processes that Murry Edelman described in his 1988 book Constructing
the Political Spectacle. We provide a summary of the elements of political spectacle
in Box 2.2.
More recently, Naomi Klein (2007) has described how political spectacle often
follows natural disasters or military regimes. But it was Milton Friedman (1962)
who captured it best in his book Capitalism and Freedom when he said,

There is enormous inertia—a tyranny of the status quo—in private and espe-
cially government arrangements. Only a crisis—actual or perceived—produces
real change. When that crisis occurs, the actions that are taken depend on the
ideas that are lying around. That, I believe, is our basic function: To develop
alternatives to existing policies, to keep them alive and available until the polit-
ically impossible becomes politically inevitable.
(p. ix)

For the last three decades, we have seen manufactured crises, such as the A Nation
at Risk report, as well as natural disasters, such as Hurricane Katrina. In each case,
these crises were used to promote the neoliberal ideas that have been lying around
and the policies (school choice, charter schools, vouchers, “education savings ac-
counts,” high-stakes testing, school closures, etc.) that they reflect. These ideas,
which Freidman clearly articulated, aim at privatizing the public sector through the
use of vouchers.
Drawing on Whitfield’s (2001) study of the privatization process in Britain,
Ball (2007) describes three stages through which the creative destruction of the
public sector is accomplished. While this is not a coordinated, linear process,
it has the following internal logic. The public sector is destabilized through dis-
courses of derision and constant ridicule to undermine its credibility. This is ac-
companied by disinvestment from and shifting resources within the public sector.
Finally, a process of commodification “reworks forms of service, social relations and
public processes into forms that are measurable and thus contractible or mar-
ketable” (Ball, 2007, p. 24). In this way, new markets are created that attract
private providers creating whole new arenas of commercial activity for “social
entrepreneurs.”
It is within the context of broader material and discursive change that the ed-
ucational institutional terrain is prepared for NPM “reforms.” As public institu-
tions like schools and universities become more financially strapped, they need
to seek funding from the private sector, in many cases from new philanthropic
36 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS

organizations with privatizing agendas. These patterns are evident in an example

Ball (2007) offers from a school principal:

You can’t run on your ordinary budget, everyone knows that, so you have to
get involved in various initiatives and cater for that, the initiative’s priorities,
and bend your curriculum and your priorities in order to get hold of that bit of
money.
(p. 23)

This principal articulates organizational barriers that are informed by broader dis-
cursive shifts. Reformist solutions, such as public-private partnerships that help to
breach boundaries between the public and private (Verger, 2012), emerge as pref-
erable only within these broader discursive and institutional contexts of public dis-
investment. These shifting discourses create new material demands upon schools,
which have increasingly become stabilized as a new normal that organizational
leaders must adapt to. This creates a synergistic relationship between discourse and
practice in which discourses shape practices and practices produce and reinforce
discourses. Some use terms like “discursive practices” or “discourse-practices” to
refer to this process of social construction (Cherryholmes, 1988).
Once ideological positions are no longer seen as ideology but rather as common
sense, then notions like the rich are the “makers” and the poor are the “takers” are
difficult to challenge. These myths, which have become accepted as common sense,
are often widely shared. Wilson (2009) provides data comparing attitudes among
Europeans and Americans that indicate that Americans overwhelmingly explain the
existence of poverty as an individual shortcoming, whereas Europeans “focus much
more on structural and social inequalities at large, not on individual behavior, to
explain the causes of poverty and joblessness” (Wilson, 2009, pp. 45–46). In other
words, Americans tend to use a frame that blames the poor for their situation in
spite of the history of race, gender, and class-based discrimination that is copiously
documented.
Linguist George Lakoff (2004, 2008) has demonstrated that our brains use the
logic of frames, prototypes, and metaphors to make sense of the world, not the logic
of rational argument. He has critiqued the Democrats for ignoring the power of
framing political issues. He points out that when Democrats debate Republicans,
they tend to think that it is a test of intellectual superiority and a firmer grasp of the
facts. Yet Republicans like Ronald Reagan, George W. Bush, and Donald Trump
are brilliant framers. Their frames of keeping Americans safe, “family values,” the
wealthy as job producers, and welfare creating dependency, and many others, have
wide appeal in the U.S. In fact, as Lakoff points out, continual repetition of frames
and discourses creates physiological, neural links to the brain. Between the creation
of a new common sense and the physiological reinforcement of being constantly
bombarded by talk radio and Fox News talking points, it is no wonder that knee-
jerk American myths are so widely believed.
Although there are many approaches to viewing policy as discourse, Bacchi
(2000) explained, “The premise behind a policy-as-discourse approach is that it is
 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS 37

inappropriate to see governments as responding to ‘problems’ that exist ‘out there’

in the community. Rather ‘problems’ are ‘created’ or ‘given shape’ in the very pol-
icy proposals that are offered as ‘responses’” (p. 48). Weaver-Hightower (2008),
who argues that policy is a complex and fragile ecology, suggested that policy in-
fluences are nearly everywhere. He has found that popular discourses and texts can
result in de facto policy.

Key elements of policy ecologies might escape notice if analysts do not explore
these notions of de facto policies and policies as texts and discourses. Docu-
ments that act in the capacity of policy create or uphold particular discourses
or become de facto policy in the absence of mandates. Such quasi-policies are
pivotal to the workings of many policy ecologies.
(p. 158)

The importance of such texts as commissioned reports, such as A Nation at Risk

(National Commission on Excellence in Education, 1983), and popular self-help
and management theory books, such as Good to Great (Collins, 2001) are examples
of de facto policy texts.
Examining policy as discourse also refers to the ways policies are constructed
linguistically (Fairclough, 2013). Language and discourse do more than reflect re-
ality: they also construct reality (Gee, 1999), and they form part of a larger arena
in which power struggles over meaning take place. For instance, the language of
business and economics creeps into education discourses with inadequate thought
or critique (Mautner, 2010). As school principals and superintendents work to “lev-
erage” change and “scale up” practices, some do so with little attention to the un-
examined assumptions these engineering terms bring to learning organizations. An
analysis of policy as discourse can deepen our understanding of the everyday social
events that occur in schools and are influenced by the subtle ideologies embedded
in language (Henze & Arriaza, 2006; Taylor, 1997). In fact, educational leaders are
critical to this process given their location within the organizational hierarchy and
the fact that they occupy pivotal discursive spaces through which policies and prac-
tices flow (Anderson, 2009).

B OX 2 . 2 U N D E R S TA N D I N G E D U C AT I O N P O L I C Y A S P O L I T I C A L S PE C TAC L E

In Constructing the Political Spectacle, Edelman (1988) discusses the

elements that make up the spectacle, which has proliferated with reality TV,
social media, and think tanks. Edelman argues that an understanding of the
following elements is crucial for an analysis of current social policy
formation:

1. The importance of language and discourse. Perhaps more than any

other political scientist, Edelman (1978) focused on the relationship
38 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS

between language and politics and what he called “the linguistic struc-
turing of social problems” (p. 26). He provides a methodology for studying
policy based on the notion that “how the problem is named involves
alternative scenarios, each with its own facts, value judgments, and
emotions.” (p. 29)
2. The definition of events as crises. “A crisis, like all new developments,
is a creation of the language used to depict it; the appearance of a crisis
is a political act, not a recognition of a fact or a rare situation.” (p. 31)
Berliner and Biddle (1995) describe how a “manufactured crisis” was
needed to jump-start our current school reform policies that date back at
least to The Nation at Risk report in 1983. Hurricane Katrina was a real
crisis that was used to charterize and privatize the New Orleans school
system (Saltman, 2007).
3. A tendency to cover political interests with a discourse of rational
policy analysis. A crisis is often created through an appeal to scientific,
rational, and neutral discourses. For example, political advantage on the
Right has been gained not only through political rhetoric but also through
privately funded, ideologically driven “think tanks” that sponsor and
disseminate so-called “objective” research.
4. The linguistic evocation of enemies and the displacement of targets.
Those with the power to manage meaning can cast tenured radicals, the
welfare state, social promotion, progressive teaching methods, and
teacher unions as the villains of educational reform. All displace attention
from other possible actors and events. Perhaps the most notable displace-
ment of a target is laying the blame on the education sector for poor
economic performance instead of on the State and the corporate sector,
which are largely unaccountable.
5. The public as political spectators. Democratic participation is limited to
such reactive rituals as voting, being polled, or choosing schools in a
marketplace. Meanwhile the skills of political democratic participation
atrophy from misuse.
6. The media as mediator of the political spectacle. Edelman gave news
reporting and other forms of media a central place in the construction of
the political spectacle. Fake news and a constant repetition of disinforma-
tion through talk radio and Fox News, and a lack of in-depth analysis in
mainstream media (CNN, MSNBC, etc.) seek to keep corporate sponsors
happy and increase TV ratings. Social media is similarly balkanized and
generally lacks in-depth analysis.
 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS 39

Centering the Perspectives of the Marginalized and Oppressed

Critical policy analysts study the taken-for-granted assumptions associated with
dominant political ideologies and how they affect those at the margins. Unlike
traditional policy analysis, CPA seeks to emphasize the voices, experiences, and
desires of marginalized people in the policy process as it finds inherent value in
what are often underrepresented or ignored worldviews. The standpoint, voice,
and perspective of those most directly impacted by policy are of particular interest
and value in CPA. As Ladson-Billings and Tate (1995) explained in their pioneer-
ing work on critical race theory (CRT) in education, “Without authentic voices
of people of color (as teachers, parents, administrators, students, and community
members) it is doubtful that we can say or know anything useful about education
in their communities” (p. 58).
CRT began as a friendly critique of Critical Legal Studies scholars who were
trying to bring attention to how the poor were unable to get justice within the crim-
inal justice system. CRT scholars argued that the system didn’t just discriminate
based on income levels but rather had a strong racial bias. This early critique of the
legal system has culminated in the recognition by many of a “new Jim Crow” in our
criminal justice system (Alexander, 2010; Davis, 1981). CPA shares CRT’s tenets in
terms of the value it places on the voices of the racially minoritized through coun-
terstorytelling. It makes sense that unless there is a methodological focus on narrative,
these voices will not be heard. There are many other tenets of CRT but not space
to discuss them in detail. For instance, by centering race in its analysis, CRT has
moved beyond legal studies to emphasize the notions that Whiteness can be viewed
as a form of property and that the only time the interests of people of color are
achieved is when they coincide with those of the dominant group, and the observa-
tion that race (and racism) has become a permanent fixture in American life (Cren-
shaw, 1988; Guinier, 2004; Guinier & Torres, 2002; Horsford, 2010, 2011; López,
2003; Parker & Villalpondo, 2007). In a sense, CRT examined how race operated
within American systems and institutions in ways that ensured the unequal distri-
bution of resources based on a political and social construction of race designed to
maintain a system of racial caste limiting upward mobility and undermining equal
opportunity for all (Horsford, 2016).
Bensimon and Marshall (1997) also highlighted the need for policy analysts to
“reveal the gender biases (as well as racial, sexual, and social class biases) inherent
in commonly accepted theories, constructs, methodologies, and concepts” (p. 6).
Indeed, this work was introduced largely based on the struggle of Black women,
grounded in a Black feminist thought distinct from feminisms that largely ignored
or undermined the experiences of women of color (Davis, 1981; hooks, 1984).
While policy analysts in education seem to understand the importance of race, gen-
der, class, sexual orientation, and disability, they have struggled with understand-
ing and describing how these all intersect. As such, the idea of intersectionality is
crucial in order to understand conceptually how various forms of oppression are
linked in complex and interlocking ways (Collins & Bilge, 2016; Crenshaw, 1995;
40 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS

Davis, 1981). Collins and Bilge (2016) argue that there is a wide gap between aca-
demic conversations about intersectionality and the struggles experienced by those
who are building political coalitions to challenge multiple injustices. In the same
vein, some have called for a critical race praxis that moves beyond theory to include
action in ways that produce social change (Yamamoto, 1997). In Decolonizing Meth-
odologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples (2012), Linda Tuhiwai Smith brings into
stark relief the embedded nature of imperialism and colonialism in the creation and
legitimization of knowledge and research.

Interrogating the Distribution of Power and Resources

Who Gets What, When, How? was the title of Lasswell’s (1936) classic political science
text—the fundamental question policy analysts have and continue to pursue. CPA
pushes further on those questions, asking: Who benefits from this policy or practice? Who
is hurt by this policy or practice? Whose knowledge informs this policy? How are social inequal-
ities not only classed but also raced and gendered? Eisenstein (2014) argued that capital is
intersectional in that it intersects with the raced and gendered bodies that produce
labor. Collins and Bilge (2016) argued that “positing that contemporary configu-
rations of global capital that fuel and sustain growing social inequalities are about
class exploitation, racism, sexism, and other systems of power fosters a rethinking of
the categories used to understand economic inequality” (p. 16). Questions of how
power and resources are distributed must be understood in terms of how political
actors at global, national, and local levels are linked. This involves attention to many
of the new neoliberal policy networks discussed earlier but also a deep historical
understanding of how power has become institutionalized particularly around class,
race, and gender.
In education, CPA insists on continuing to expose those areas in which power
and resources benefit the privileged. For instance, even in the more equitable era of
the American welfare state policies, racial segregation was also created and sustained
by State policies (Rothstein, 2017), and privileged groups long ago made their sub-
urban enclaves legally or informally off-limits to the poor or people of color. In
1974, the U.S. Supreme Court’s Milliken v. Bradley decision determined that “par-
ent and school choice” ended where the suburbs began (Green & Gooden, 2016),
reproducing a “social justice for the advantaged” (Horsford, 2016) that undermines
the struggle for educational equality and opportunity for those with fewer and more
limited economic resources and social capital.

Holding Those in Power Accountable for Policy Outcomes

In their 1990 book Politics, Markets, and America’s Schools, Chubb and Moe argued that
the problem with U.S. education was a direct result of democratic institutions and put
forth a market-based approach to education reform based on the importance of “hold-
ing schools accountable” for their performance, making the case for school choice and
competition in ways that would improve student achievement and school performance.
 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS 41

Ironically, however, such neoliberal approaches to school reform, which focused on

“holding schools accountable,” altogether ignored public accountability, which is cen-
tral to democratic governance. In fact, public accountability, is defined as

The obligations of agencies and public enterprises who have been trusted with
public resources, to be answerable to the fiscal and the social responsibilities that
have been assigned to them. These companies and agencies need to be account-
able to the public at large and carry out the duties asked of them responsibly.
(Black’s Law Dictionary, 2017)

Thomas Rogers, former president of the New York State Council of School
Superintendents, uses the notion of reciprocal accountability. He argues that each level
(federal, state, district, school, etc.) should be held accountable for things it can in-
fluence. So, for instance, the federal government should be accountable for such
things as percent of gross domestic product (GDP) spent on education, spending on
research and development, percent of children in poverty, percent without health
insurance, percent with poor nutrition, etc. Furthermore, he suggests comparing
these percentages with OECD countries that have far better outcomes in these ar-
eas than the U.S, and we might add, also have more robust Welfare States. Rogers
suggested holding each level accountable through report cards similar to those that
many districts are currently using, except that these report cards would contain fed-
eral, state, district, and school-level data. So, for instance, under the section of the
report card for the federal level, he provides a table that shows the percent of U.S.
children in poverty, which is far above that of all European countries and only six
percentage points above that of Mexico. These report cards would help to legitimate
a concern among school leaders for demanding greater accountability at levels over
their heads.
Given the 2017 tax bill that lowered the statutory tax rate on corporations from
35% to 21% on the questionable assumption that they will use the savings to cre-
ate more jobs, we would add another category to Rogers’s report card: Corporate
Accountability, or to what extent corporations engage in productive, rather than
speculative activities and take seriously their civic responsibility toward their local
communities and their collective responsibility to provide jobs that pay a living
wage and benefits. Or perhaps those corporations that create jobs get the tax break,
but those who don’t pay more. But this would be far too rational an analysis. A CPA
approach would point out that it was the corporate donors who gave our elected
officials an ultimatum to pass the bill or else they would withdraw their dark money
(Mayer, 2016a, 2016b)

CONCLUSION

The loss of a sense of the common good has resulted in a growing dissociation
between the well-being of one’s own and other people’s children. It may well be
natural that parents should make the welfare of their own children their primary
42 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS

concern. All parents want the best for their children. What we are witnessing, how-
ever, is a shift in which parents aren’t simply demanding that schools provide a
quality education for their children. Instead, they are demanding that schools pro-
vide their children with more than what other children are getting (McGrath &
Kurillof, 1999; Reeves, 2017). While upper-class parents have always been able to
buy a superior education for their children, in an economically squeezed middle
class, parents are left to fight each other and poor and working-class parents for
privileges and opportunities for their children. Years ago, this was visible as privi-
leged parents left urban centers for racially segregated suburbs with better housing
and more amenities. Today, as their children move back, it is visible in gentrifying
urban neighborhoods in which poor and working-class parents of color are being
displaced from their communities and their schools by largely—but not entirely—
White, middle-class newcomers (Cucchiara, 2013; Posey Maddox, 2014).
It also happens inside schools. While academic tracking may be in part due
to a belief that students at the same level are best taught together, McGrath and
Kurillof (1999) found that many middle-class parents are adamant that their chil-
dren not be mixed in with other children, unless those children are at similar
academic levels. Because academic level tends to correlate so closely with socioec-
onomic level and race, it is often hard to sort out the real concerns. Regardless of
whether middle-class parents are classist, racist, or simply want their child to be
competitive in the job market, the result is a society segregated by class and race,
even when kids spend the day in the same school. A society, in which individual
self-interest becomes a dominant goal, cannot also claim to support goals of social
equality.
This chapter has provided only a handful of the critical conceptual tools
available for analyzing and challenging education and social policies that have
made the U.S. the most unequal and segregated countries in the developed world.
Traditional approaches to policy analysis have failed to dig deeply enough into
the nuanced ways that social reproduction is maintained. The current obsession
with quantification and econometrics has made the field of policy analysis nar-
rower than ever. If done to expose inequalities, quantification can provide us with a
broad map of policy problems. Researchers, such as those at the Civil Rights Project
at University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), under the direction of Patricia
Gándara and Gary Orfield, have produced critical work of this type. But once we
convert complex social categories like race or gender into variables, we have limited
our chances for a nuanced analysis. Furthermore, quantitative studies of policy tend
to be theoretically agnostic, thus failing to interrogate the assumptions underlying
their hypotheses.
CPA requires an explicit standpoint toward social equality at the point of ask-
ing research questions or engaging in educational practice, whether as a teacher,
counselor, principal, or superintendent. Without this standpoint and the critical
reflexivity that must accompany it, it is too easy to be lulled into confusing a man-
ufactured common sense with reality. Much like the way reality TV normalized
Donald Trump for millions of Americans, the many myths perpetuated by ideo-
logues in neoliberal think tanks and the corporate-owned media have normalized
 CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS 43

the isolated individual, separate from society, who makes good or bad choices in a
vacuum. Returning “society” to this myth of the individual by re-embedding lib-
eralism in social supports will not be easy, but it can not be done without a more
critical approach to policy analysis.

END-OF-CHAPTER QUESTIONS
1. What are the key features of critical policy analysis and how do they differ from
traditional policy analysis? What can either approach tell us about the state of
American education and the goals of schooling in a pluralist democracy?
2. What is a political ideology and what are the prevailing ideologies reflected in
U.S. education research, policy, and reform? How might you describe the rela-
tionship between political ideology, education policy, and leadership practice?
3. Consider the economic and humanistic goals of schooling described in this
chapter. In what ways are your own beliefs and assumptions concerning the
purpose and values of education reflected in these goals? Do you view them as
competing or complementary? What other goals of schooling might you add to
the two presented here?

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CHAPTER 3

Public Schools or Private Goods?

The Politics of Choice, Markets, and
Competition

In 2017, Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos, a billionaire supporter of school

choice policies long before President Trump nominated her to his cabinet, spoke
at the National Association of Public Charter Schools annual meeting. She stated
that it was time to stop distinguishing schools by their sector, and instead, embrace
public, private, and other models in terms of what families decide is most valuable
through their selection of schools. Secretary DeVos argued, “I suggest we focus less
on what word comes before ‘school’—whether it be traditional, charter, virtual,
magnet, home, parochial, private or any approach yet to be developed—and focus
instead on the individuals they are intended to serve. We need to get away from our
orientation around buildings or systems or schools and shift our focus to individual
students” (DeVos, 2017).
This focus on individual students and their rights called for by DeVos aligns
with neoliberal and libertarian preferences for the allocation of public goods to pri-
vate sector operators and investors and runs counter to democratic visions of public
education and the ideal of the common school. In many ways, DeVos’s embrace
of market-based educational policies as the primary mechanism for allocating
public education in the United States realized an earlier vision imagined by Milton
Friedman (1962) in the classic text, Capitalism and Freedom. In Friedman’s imagi-
nation, the role of government in education would be to establish the minimum
level of education needed to ensure basic literacy and knowledge, but he would
argue that the government need not be the sole or primary provider of schooling.
Instead, providing parents with vouchers would allow them to seek schools that
aligned with their pedagogical or religious orientation. Friedman suggested that
parents could choose from an array of private and public providers. Parents could
supplement this money with their own, and Freidman argued that having parents
assume the costs of schooling for their children would help ensure that family sizes
were commensurate with what families could afford to spend.
50 PUBLIC SCHOOLS OR PRIVATE GOODS?

The educational services could be rendered by private enterprises operated for

profit, or by non-profit institutions. The role of the government would be lim-
ited to insuring that the schools met certain minimum standards, such as the
inclusion of a minimum content in their programs, much as it now inspects
restaurants to ensure that they maintain minimum sanitary standards.
(p. 89)

By the turn of the century, education leaders in urban school systems, many of
whom first entered education through Teach For America and identified as Dem-
ocrats, joined Friedman’s libertarian, anti-civil rights philosophy with an ideology
that reclaimed market-oriented reforms as being central to emancipatory, equitable
education for Black and Latinx children (Rhee & Klein, 2010). This vision included
school closures, contracting with private management organizations to operate
schools, the use of incentives and competition to drive school, teacher, and sys-
tem performance, and the embrace of alternative teacher and leadership preparation
programs to provide the human capital to work in the new schools these leaders
imagined would revitalize public education and maximize the choices of individ-
ual parents. Moreover, these education reformers zeroed in on teachers unions as
the main organizational obstacle—along with recalcitrant school district leaders—
limiting educational freedom and equity.
These efforts saw ideas being taken to scale and implemented in urban school
districts such as New Orleans, Los Angeles, Philadelphia, Nashville, New York,
and Denver. School and system leaders work in increasingly fragmented and hy-
bridized settings in which the model of the common school as a part of a school
district that is overseen by a school board and superintendent is giving way to alter-
native models for delivering schooling. This institutional diversity includes charter
schools, private management of schools, vouchers, and private contracting to de-
liver online education, school choice infrastructure, teacher and leadership prepa-
ration, and the use of vouchers and tuition tax credits to redirect public allocations
to private schools at the behest of parents seeking alternatives to public institutions.
In this chapter, we describe the historical antecedents of contemporary school
choice policies, their ideological underpinnings, and evidence of their effects on
students, school systems, and communities. We consider the unique challenges and
opportunities the expansion and implementation of market-based school choice
polices pose for school leaders seeking to support diverse, equitable, and excellent
public schools and school systems.

SCHOOL CHOICE POLICIES: A LOOK AT THE TERRAIN

The institutional landscape of school choice policies is constantly in flux, making

precision about the numbers of particular choice schools, or students within schools
difficult to achieve. In 2018, there were charter school laws in forty-four states, with
approximately three million children attending them, which amounts to roughly
5% of the U.S. public school population. Charter schools receive support not only
 PUBLIC SCHOOLS OR PRIVATE GOODS? 51

from their state legislatures but also from the federal government, beginning with
President Bill Clinton. As many observers have noted, charter schools often have
bipartisan support. The proposed fiscal year 2017–2018 federal budget would in-
crease charter school funding as well as create a $250 million school voucher pro-
gram. There are also seventeen school voucher plans and over forty tuition tax
credit plans, and approximately two million children are being homeschooled. In
addition, there are school choice policies and plans that incorporate goals of racial,
linguistic, and socioeconomic desegregation. Many of these plans are voluntary in
the sense that policymakers have enacted them without mandates or court orders,
and others persist under consent decrees. In addition, as urban districts and sur-
rounding suburbs have grappled with demographic shifts, many policymakers and
school leaders are implementing metropolitan school choice plans to encourage
greater diversity, access, and equity (Holme & Finnigan, 2013). These inter- and
intradistrict choice plans include magnet schools and voluntary transfer programs,
and while leaders have had to navigate ongoing racism, resistance, and lack of re-
sources in their design and implementation, these policies remain the only school
choice plans that take desegregation, if not integration, and the need for regulation
and monitoring of them, seriously (Finnigan & Scarbough, 2013).

Charter Schools
Charter schools are publicly funded schools that are managed by non- or even for-
profit groups, usually independent of local districts and free from many state and
district regulations in exchange for promises of greater accountability and student
learning. They are intended to induce schools to compete for students by adopt-
ing more attractive pedagogies and school structures. In fact, despite the enthu-
siastic, bipartisan endorsement these schools have enjoyed in Washington, D.C.
and the strong support they have received from philanthropic organizations such
as the Gates Foundation, the Broad Foundation, the Walton Family Foundation,
and the Fisher Fund/Pisces Foundation, the record on charter school achievement
outcomes is fairly modest, showing great variability within and across states, and
even variability within charter school networks (CREDO, 2009, 2013).

Vouchers
Vouchers allow parents to enroll their children in private schools using public fund-
ing to partially offset or fully pay for the tuition. While some voucher advocates base
their support for them on the grounds of expanding parental freedom and choice,
other supporters regard vouchers as a mechanism to incentivize the development of
high-performing schools under the assumption that with adequate information, par-
ents will choose schools that are high quality (usually defined as high performing on
standardized assessments), leaving underperforming schools to be less likely to be se-
lected, and ultimately, closed if they cannot maintain enrollments. Similarly, the goal
of tuition tax credits and education savings accounts, which Welner (2008b) has called
“neovouchers” is to use the tax system as a pass-through for parents to subsidize their
52 PUBLIC SCHOOLS OR PRIVATE GOODS?

private school tuition payments. They also serve as a mechanism for corporations to
receive tax credits for donations to private schools. Research on vouchers has found
mixed results that were highly dependent on the metrics researchers used to determine
effectiveness and the controls used to compare students across schools, and much of
the research is subject to an “echo chamber” effect (Goldie et al., 2014).

Merit Pay
The goal of merit pay plans for teachers is to incentivize more effective teaching
practices, theoretically rewarding teachers who show greater gains in their students’
achievement or growth in proficiency levels. There are hundreds of school dis-
tricts with merit pay plans in place, though the programs differ greatly from one
another. Where some plans award cash rewards to individual teachers, other distrib-
ute bonuses school wide. This idea, while growing in popularity, is not new, and
it has long been controversial. For example, Jabbar (2013) traces the use of incen-
tive payment plans in 19th century England. In the past, and in current contexts,
teacher unions and many education researchers have expressed concerns that efforts
to evaluate their teaching practice with students by using standardized test scores
would conflate possible teacher effects with confounding variables, such as student
backgrounds in terms of race, language, and poverty—and the hyper segregation of
students by these indicators, motivation), and test-taking ability. The advancement
of value-added modeling metrics by researchers leads policymakers who support
merit pay plans to believe that they can distinguish teacher effectiveness from these
and other factors known to affect student learning and performance on standardized
assessments (Glazerman et al., 2010; Kane et al., 2010). Yet critics argue that merit
pay plans do not account for the complex nature of teachers’ work in schools, which
tends to be collaborative and interdependent (Johnson, 1984; see also Murnane &
Cohen, 1986), or raise concerns about the suitability of informational mechanisms
that will support these programs (Welner, 2008; see also Baker et al., 2010; Gold-
haber et al., 2008b; Newton et al., 2010; Schochet & Chiang, 2010). While these
plans often hold appeal for reformers, many are short-lived, and their educational
benefits, especially in terms of increasing teacher quality or improving student and
school performance, are still unclear (Ballou, 2001).

Parent Trigger Laws

The parent trigger is a policy device that provides a mechanism to force the growth
of school choice or school reconstitution. The first parent trigger law was passed
in 2010 in California, and since then organizations like the Heartland Institute and
the American Legislative Exchange Council have become leading supporters of its
expansion to other states. To date, seven states have adopted some version of a par-
ent trigger law: California, Connecticut, Indiana, Louisiana, Mississippi, Ohio, and
Texas. A majority of parents can trigger transformation of low-performing neigh-
borhood schools by signing petitions indicating their support for such measures.
The resulting options vary by state, but they typically include conversion to charter
 PUBLIC SCHOOLS OR PRIVATE GOODS? 53

school status. Triggers may also prompt school closure or the removal of a school’s
administration and leaders and replacement with private, education management
organizations.

CHOICE AND COMPETITION

School choice policies can produce a number of forms of competition. These forms
can include competition between schools, between charter school networks, be-
tween parents, and between systems. There can also be competition for teachers
and leaders. Sociological research has demonstrated that students are unequally sit-
uated in choice contexts. Schools have an incentive to try to attract students likely
to produce higher test scores, and a disincentive to enroll students who have spe-
cial emotional, physical, or educational needs that require additional resources. For
this reason, charter schools have used a wide variety of mechanisms to shape their
enrollment. These have included pushing students out with disproportionate dis-
cipline practices and the use of marketing and advertising aimed at favored groups
(DiMartino & Butler Jessen, 2018).
Two additional arguments undergird contemporary school choice policies.
First, theorists posit that when parents are allowed to choose schools for their
children that best cohere to their values and desire for quality, the most informed
parents who are likely to choose on the basis of academic excellence will drive
parents to follow their lead. Therefore, underperforming schools would be forced
to compete for their patronage by improving their academic offerings or organiza-
tional operations or risk closure. Yet as school choice policies like charter schools
have gone to scale, Lafer (2018) found that charters are costing districts millions
of dollars in lost funding, thereby destabilizing their ability to compete. Another
assumption is that providing parents with choice in their children’s schooling is
tantamount to fulfilling the promise of the Civil Rights Movement because it de-
volves power away from school and school district leaders and puts it into the hands
of parents (Arons, 1989; Blackwell, 2007; Bolick, 1998). These comparisons with
the Civil Rights Movement are complex; given policymaker’s use of school choice
was to avoid racial integration (Scott, 2018).

“Freedom of Choice” Plans

School desegregation became an important policy goal during the mid-century
Civil Rights Movement, led by legal advocates such as the National Association for
the Advancement of Colored People, and networks of Black educators throughout
the American south (Walker, 2018). These parents, educators, and legal advocates
who pushed for school desegregation litigation and laws to dismantle separate and
unequal schooling did so because they believed that equal and integrated education
was essential for the achievement of civil rights, along with other civil rights protec-
tions in labor, housing, and justice policies. As the courts ruled that policymakers
had harmed Black children by ensuring separate and unequal schooling, beginning
54 PUBLIC SCHOOLS OR PRIVATE GOODS?

with the landmark Brown I and Brown II decisions of 1954 and 1955, massive White
resistance resulted in the establishment of state-sponsored voucher programs to en-
able White families to avoid desegregation mandates and, in Virginia, closure of the
public schools for several years (Lassiter & Davis, 1998). While African American
families had long engaged in alternative institution building due to their exclusion
from public education opportunities (Foreman, 2005a), the establishment of vouch-
ers for White children to attend private schools instead of participating in desegre-
gated public schools, one of the first state-sponsored school choice policies, was
inextricably tied to racism and racial exclusion (Lassiter & Davis, 1998).

SCHOOL CHOICE AND STUDENT OUTCOMES

The popularity of school choice among urban policymakers has coincided with a
larger national education policy context that has shifted from a focus on equity and
providing additional support and resources to underserved schools and districts to
a focus on excellence and raising standards and test scores (McGuinn, 2006; Wells,
2010). In fact, many charter school advocates claim that the way to achieve greater
educational equity is through educational excellence by eliminating test score or
graduation disparities between Black and Latinx students and their more advantaged
White and Asian peers. Thus, the so-called “achievement gap,” rather than broader
analyses of social, political, and economic inequalities that result in an “opportunity
gap” (Carter & Welner, 2013), or what Ladson-Billings calls the “Education Debt”
(Ladson-Billings, 2006), is framed as the major problem of educational equity that
choice and competition stand to remedy.
How parents actually choose reveals that school choice logics look very differ-
ent on the ground, as parent choice—especially the choice of low-income parents
of color—is constrained in various ways. First, geographic boundaries, social net-
works, and familial resources all limit school choice. Given the intractable patterns
of inter-school district racial and socioeconomic segregation and court rulings
that have curbed interdistrict desegregation policy options, combined with a lack
of transportation provisions in many choice plans, low-income parents of color
are often limited to choosing schools within district boundaries (Lubienski, 2005;
Wells, Warner, & Grzesikowski, 2013).
To have unrestrained school choice, the way that White and affluent parents
often do, they would need the resources to move to a suburban district known
for its high-quality, well-funded schools though many researchers have noted the
tight connections between family socioeconomic status and student performance
on standardized assessments, thereby troubling the notions of greater “quality” to
be found in wealthy or middle-class suburbs (Schneider, 2017). Another option
for families who cannot or don’t want to live in these suburbs is to explore private
school options. In the case of vouchers, the amount of the voucher is typically not
sufficient to cover tuition at the most elite schools, even if parents were to be ad-
mitted to these selective institutions Moreover, there is evidence that low-income
families and families of color face barriers to equal treatment in pursuing what
 PUBLIC SCHOOLS OR PRIVATE GOODS? 55

they believe to be better schools. For example, low-income parents of color who
do cross interdistrict lines without the benefit of a voucher (often by falsifying
their addresses) are accused of “stealing education” and have been fined and jailed
(Applebome, 2011; Spencer, 2015). And middle-class Black and Latinx students
in suburban schools often receive unequal treatment in terms of access to college
preparatory classes, likelihood of being tracked into low-level courses, and face dis-
proportionate discipline (Lewis, 2003; Lewis-McCoy, 2014).
Moreover, even within urban school-district boundaries, choice for low-
income parents of color is constrained by the same factors. Geography is still a
factor, as schools have incentives—especially in a competitive educational market
where they are judged by test scores—to be located in areas with a smaller high-
needs population (Lubienski, Gulosino, & Weitzel, 2009) and parents with lim-
ited means struggle to find viable transportation options (Bell, 2009b). Moreover,
social networks and access to information—and especially language barriers for
parents who are recent immigrants (see Sattin-Bajaj, 2015)—also play a crucial role
in which schools parents even know to consider, a process that advantages more
educated, well-connected, affluent parents (Ball, 2003; Bell, 2009a; Villavicencio,
2013). Thus, when low-income parents of color choose schools, they do not choose
from schools that truly range in quality (Bell, 2009a; Lubienski, 2005).
A second reason that the market logics governing school choice do not align
with implementation is that within the collection of schools that low-income
parents of color actually choose from, their choices are limited as well. Many
“mission-oriented” charter schools (Henig, Holyoke, Brown, & Lacireno-Paquet,
2005) that aim to serve low-income youth locate themselves in urban Black and
Latino communities (Lubienski et al., 2009), and are the primary option low-income
parents consider besides the traditional public schools in their neighborhood.
Charter schools were originally planned to be “factories” of innovation—and in-
deed, many early urban charter schools were community-based and experimented
with a variety of pedagogies and curriculum to serve low-income youth of color.
However, market pressures from the proliferation of large network CMO “No
Excuses” charter schools (Miron, Urschel, Aguilar, Mayra, & Dailey, 2012) are
causing a significant proportion of urban charter schools to adopt a similar approach
(White, 2015)—with an emphasis on high academic standards, tough discipline,
and character development (McDermott & Nygreen, 2013). While this pedagogi-
cal style might be attractive to some parents, other parents have concerns with the
punitive discipline, test score focus, and lack of cultural relevance in these schools
(Sondel, 2015; White, 2015). In addition, admittance to these oversubscribed
schools generally happens through a lottery, and so rather than simply choosing the
school, parents must rely on chance.
Qualitative research demonstrates that even affluent parents in urban districts
with school choice feel a great deal of anxiety around the process, as they are over-
whelmed with options and concerns that their child will end up in an inferior school
(Posey-Maddox, 2014; Roda & Wells, 2013). This is especially true for low-income
parents of color where the choices seem to carry even higher stakes, with parents
who “win” charter school lotteries feeling blessed and parents who do not feeling
56 PUBLIC SCHOOLS OR PRIVATE GOODS?

dispirited and guilty (Pattillo, Delale-O’Connor, & Butts, 2014). Even though they
might exercise agency by doing the hard work of finding the best possible school
for their children, they know that White and affluent parents have more political
power and are savvy when making their choices in an unequal playing field, and
these low-income parents and many parents of color worry whether or not school
choice policies will benefit them (Cooper, 2007). Instead of being empowered with
the liberty of choice, as the free-market logic would have it, low-income parents of
color face barriers that often marginalize them in the process.

CHOICE WITHOUT EQUITY EXACERBATES INEQUALITY:

CHOOSING WINNERS AND LOSERS

The anxiety that parents feel around the choice process can be attributed in part to
educational inequality in urban school systems (Roda & Wells, 2013). However,
rather than choice policies alleviating within district inequality, there is mount-
ing evidence that school choice actually exacerbates inequality and socioeconomic
and racial segregation. Modern school choice programs—such as charter schools—
provide no regulatory power in terms of traditional equity mechanisms like de-
segregation or school finance equalization (Frankenberg, Siegel-Hawley, & Wang,
2010). While some school choice policies have promoted racial and socioeconomic
integration, such as magnet schools and voluntary district transfer plans (Wells,
1993), the school choice policy context in which parents of color largely choose
schools does not currently have strong integrationist provisions, despite the poten-
tial of charter schools to do so as a policy tool (Mead & Green, 2012). Indeed, evi-
dence demonstrates that charter schools actually increase racial and socioeconomic
segregation (Garcia, 2008; Miron, Urschel, Mathis, & Tornquist, 2010).
Research also demonstrates that charter schools often do not serve proportional
numbers of students with special needs (G. Scott, 2012; Winters, 2015) and ELL
(English Language Learner) students (Buckley & Sattin-Bajaj, 2011) when compared
to traditional public schools in their district. Indeed, parents of special needs children
brought a lawsuit against the New Orleans Recovery School District for failing to ad-
equately serve their children (Dreillinger, 2013). While some of this can be attributed
to parents of special needs and ELL students not applying to charter schools, due to
insufficient information about choice options, within a competitive educational mar-
ket, charter schools actually have incentives to not serve high-needs students (Jabbar,
2015b; Jennings, 2010). In addition, so-called “No Excuses” charter schools have high
attrition rates (Miron, Urschel, & Saxton, 2011; Vasquez Heilig, Williams, McNeil, &
Lee, 2011; Woodworth, David, Guha, Wang, & Lopez-Torkos, 2008), suggesting that
some of the highest-needs students leave or get pushed out of the schools before they
ever graduate. This indicates that parental choice can be curtailed at many points be-
yond their initial selection of, and admission to a school (Jabbar, 2015b).
Moreover, there is evidence that charter schools’ expenditures for students are
higher than comparable traditional public schools, given the fact that they attract
the support of large philanthropic organizations (Baker, Libby, & Wiley, 2012;
Miron et al., 2011; Reckhow & Snyder, 2014). Thus, in many urban districts, there
 PUBLIC SCHOOLS OR PRIVATE GOODS? 57

is a stark disparity in the resources and facilities that charter schools offer when
compared to public schools, creating a sense of the haves and have-nots. This is-
sue especially comes to a head in the case of charter colocation, a situation where
charter schools share space—often rent free—in school district buildings along-
side traditional public schools and at times occupy the space that formerly housed
schools that are closing due to poor performance. Anger about the disparities in
resources and facilities in colocated school buildings has caused a firestorm of con-
troversy in New York City (Otterman, 2011; Pappas, 2012). Critiques charge that
this creates an atmosphere of zero-sum competition, pitting the two-school public
sectors against each other and causing divisions in the community of color that both
types of public schools serve (Fabricant & Fine, 2012; Pappas, 2012). In addition,
researchers have found evidence of strategic location of stand-alone schools aimed
at attracting desirable students (Henig & MacDonald, 2002).
While some school choice policies can trace their origins to progressive equity
policies, others have been shaped by discriminatory impulses to restrict access to
public schools on the basis of race, language, poverty, immigration status, or aca-
demic performance and ability. Charter schools, vouchers, and other privatization
policies challenge the model of the American school district in which a central of-
fice oversees and supports the K-12 schools in its jurisdiction. The modern school
district emerged in the Progressive era, envisioned and advocated for by reformers
seeking to improve the efficiency and quality of public education. These White male
reformers believed in centralizing many of the administrative functions of school-
ing and ridding the nation’s schools of fragmentation toward a vision of common
schooling (Tyack, 1974). From 1910 to 1960, these efforts resulted in the consolida-
tion of one-room schoolhouses, which were reduced from 200,000 to 20,000.
The resulting bureaucratization of public education did nothing to interrupt
the substandard schooling offered to marginalized communities. African Americans,
southern European immigrants, Latinos, Asian Americans, and Native Americans
engaged in separate and joint struggles to be included in the democratic processes,
curricular offerings, and personnel policies that would shape the learning conditions
of their children (Donato, 1997; Murtahda & Watts, 2005). Community control
movements, efforts to eradicate legal barriers to integration, and fights for bilin-
gual instruction and equal school funding, among other efforts, characterized these
struggles (Forman, 2005b; Pedroni, 2007; Tyack, 1974). Among these efforts to real-
ize educational equity, school desegregation has been especially protracted. Through
de facto and de jure policies in housing and school district attendance boundaries,
federal, state, and local public policymakers institutionalized the separate and une-
qual schooling that persists throughout the United States (Rothstein, 2015, 2017).

PARENTS AS INDIVIDUAL CONSUMERS

Finally, school choice policies primarily conceive of parents as consumers in an

educational market rather than as democratic citizens (Beal & Hendry, 2012; Hill,
2013). The problem with this conception is that even when parents exercise choice
and enroll their child in a charter school or school outside of their neighborhood,
58 PUBLIC SCHOOLS OR PRIVATE GOODS?

they still have a stake in the school system (Labaree, 2000). Despite the privatizing
effects of choice policies, charter schools are still commonly understood to be pub-
lic schools and part of urban public school systems (Lubienski, 2001) and expected
to fulfill public goods—such as benefits from the increased human capital and po-
litical competence that the public school system engenders (Labaree, 2000). Thus,
parents not only have a stake in the education of their individual child; they are still
citizens and taxpayers, and have a stake in the quality of the overall system.
This holds especially for low-income parents of color. Due to a history of insti-
tutional racism that affects all people of color, parents may understand themselves
as “linked” to the fate of others in their communities (Dawson, 2003). Even parents
of color who do not send their child to neighborhood public schools are still tied
to their fate, as they have other family members and friends who attend and work
in those schools. These parents have concerns that the larger school system will
educate other children that will be a part of their child’s life and grow to be citizens
in their communities (Pattillo, 2015; Wilson-Cooper, 2005). There is ecology of in-
stitutions that make up a neighborhood and parents do not only consider the school
that their child attends in isolation from these other dynamics.
School choice policies often are disruptive to communities as demonstrated by the
contested nature of charter school expansion in many neighborhoods of color, even
as families of color also support, advocate for, and enroll their children in schools of
choice (Buras, 2011; Jabbar, 2015a; J. Scott, 2012). Such policies often coincide with
school closures, thus eliminating spaces that were once fixtures of neighborhoods
(Lipman, 2011). Moreover, given the longer travel time for children to get to school,
and the longer school days that children experience in “No Excuses” charter schools,
children are spending more time away from their neighborhoods and families.
School choice advocates often frame school choice as choosing to support
children over adults, especially in conversations about the self-interest of public
school teachers unions. However, this framing obscures the fact that children and
teachers of color can be a part of the same communities, and stable employment
for adults is of benefit to children. Indeed, public sector employment—in urban
institutions, such as education systems—has been crucial in upward mobility for
African Americans and building the Black middle class. When school choice policies
weaken teachers unions, it disproportionately harms educators of color. An extreme
example of this was the mass firing of mostly Black veteran teachers in New Orleans
with the restructuring of the school district (Buras, 2011; Jabbar, 2015a). Given the
centrality of Black educators in past struggles for racial justice (Walker, 2009), such
policies could be stripping communities of color of important political capital.

RACE, GENDER, AND THE ADVOCACY COALITIONS

OF SCHOOL CHOICE POLICY ENTREPRENEURS

Historians and sociologists of education have documented the rise of school and
school district leadership and management as professions in the early 20th century.
As public schools were transformed from small, community-run institutions to
 PUBLIC SCHOOLS OR PRIVATE GOODS? 59

large urban systems, administrative progressives, a loosely configured network of

business leaders, political elite, and university faculty called for and implemented
reforms that would centralize urban school governance in ways that mimicked cor-
porate governance. These reformers realized their goals with increased bureauc-
ratization and specialization of the education profession. Within elite universities,
including Harvard, Columbia, and Stanford, schools of education developed pro-
grams in “administrative science” and the managers who trained in these programs
went on to reshape the governance and management of urban school systems.
The administrative progressives invented school and school district leadership as
fields of study and as professional tracks, and largely reserved such positions for White
men (Tyack, 1974). The original elite school managers designed the modern urban
school systems and experimented with governance structures and loci of control in
their search of the “one best system,” all the while excluding or limiting the participa-
tion of women of all races, poor men, and men of color in leadership positions. Follow-
ing the Civil Rights and Feminist movements, White women and people of color began
making modest inroads into school and district leadership. Indeed, given increased gov-
ernment oversight over equalizing opportunity, the public sphere—including school
districts, the military, and federal and state governments—became a somewhat pro-
tected space where people of color and women were able to build careers and attain
middle-class status (Edsall & Edsall, 1992; Pressman & Wildavsky, 1974).
As people of color and women began running schools and districts in greater
numbers, and as the backlash against school desegregation, multiculturalism, and
compensatory programs took hold, critiques from elites also emerged about urban
systems and schools. Critics asserted that expertise existed not just outside school
systems but primarily in the private sector, a space historically dominated and re-
served for White men (Chubb, 1997; Osborne & Gaebler, 1992). Moreover, critics
alleged that the cause of lackluster school performance was the educators and lead-
ers in public schools. There is general agreement from researchers, practitioners,
and policymakers that the conditions under which poor children and children of
color are educated are in need of improvement, but the causes attributed to these
conditions vary greatly, as do the remedies proposed. In the last thirty years, the
policy spotlight has been on market-based solutions to the challenges facing urban
schools, including the adoption of charter school laws, voucher programs, man-
agement of schools by for-profit and nonprofit private companies, and the school
choice provisions of the No Child Left Behind Act and the Every Student Succeeds Act.
These initiatives have reshaped the demographics of public school leadership in
ways that have not been adequately explored in school choice research.

EARLY ARCHITECTS OF AFRICAN AMERICAN EDUCATION:

VALUES, PHILOSOPHIES, AND PEDAGOGIES

Political sociologists of education place race, gender, and other social characteristics
at the center of their analysis (Watkins, 2001). Watkins examines the early White
architects of Black education. He details the political and ideological assumptions of
60 PUBLIC SCHOOLS OR PRIVATE GOODS?

the White architects of Black education in the early 20th century, finding that they
valued maintaining the social order, building profits for industry through training
Blacks to be manual laborers. Although “Black architects,” such as DuBois and
Washington, argued for their own political sociology of Black schooling, Watkins
argues that they were ultimately minor players who were unable to significantly
shape the schooling conditions for African American students in public schools.
Writes Watkins, “Political sociology allows the interrogation of human actions and
interactions within the context of power. Power is viewed in terms of wealth, prop-
erty, access, inheritance, and privilege” (p. 4).
Watkins’s framing of the historical shapers of Black schooling has modern
applications. Whereas the context about which he wrote considered the role of ed-
ucation for newly emancipated Black people, the 21st-century context is one in
which a global economy has rendered large segments of the United States labor
force redundant, where jobs for high school graduates are increasingly low-status
and low-paying, and where access to higher education is shrinking. Black men find
themselves more likely to be incarcerated or under the arm of the criminal jus-
tice system than in school. It is also a context in which unprecedented advance-
ments into public school leadership, educational professoriate, and the school
superintendency has been achieved by women and people of color. At the same
time, public schooling is under the scrutiny of the federal and state departments of
education, achievements measured by standardized tests have become the bench-
mark of school quality and hurdles for students to ascend, and there is a pervasive
sense from the citizenry that most public schools are failing. School choice through
charter schools, alternative small schools, vouchers, and private management is cur-
rently the most popular educational reform.
As the new school managers seek to influence schooling from the outside, with
emphasis on corporate values—management, efficiency, competition, outcomes,
and structured flexibility—many educational researchers emphasize issues of de-
mocracy, inclusive/multicultural curricula, social justice, and access to pedagogy
that foster critical thinking in their writing and teaching of student teachers and
aspiring school leaders (Ball, 2003; Foster, 1997; Ladson-Billings, 1995; Sleeter,
1991). This represents an intriguing shift in education, where experts who have
followed the path to professional legitimacy mapped out by early administrative
progressives, certification, securing advanced degrees, working in public school
systems, find that very legitimacy questioned and challenged by those with little or
no public school experience. And leaders and researchers of color in particular, who
tend to work in predominantly minority school systems or focus upon multicul-
tural perspectives and social justice, find their work especially critiqued.

Female and Leaders of Color in Public Schooling

Educational privatization can be understood not simply as a shift in the public and
private spheres, or a way to improve educational outcomes for children of color,
but also as a way for White men to preserve an elite and privileged space in educa-
tional leadership and policy (Barlow, 2003; Walsh, 2001). While leadership remains
 PUBLIC SCHOOLS OR PRIVATE GOODS? 61

a profession in which the majority are White men, people of color and women
have increased their presence in the field. Between 1987 and 1994, the percentage
of women principals grew by 11% in elementary schools, and by 5% in secondary
schools. Men, however, continued to comprise the majority of school principals
at both levels (58.9% in elementary and 85.2% in high school), though salaries be-
tween men and women became comparable. In 1994, 10% of principals were Black,
and 4.1% were Hispanic, while 84.2% were White. Of those leaders of color, 35% of
principals in cities were minority, and they tended to work in large school districts,
and 69% of minority principals worked in high minority schools (50% or more
students of color) (Fiore, Curtin, & Hammer, 2006; National Center for Education
Statistics, 1996). The picture painted by these statistics is one of progress, albeit
slow progress. Despite a history of discrimination, people of color and women have
made inroads into public school leadership.
They have done so by acquiring educational credentials and rising through the
ranks, starting as teachers, then principals, and finally, in school leadership positions
(Tillman & Cochran, 2000). For them, the bureaucracies set up by the administra-
tive progressives allowed for somewhat of a predictable (if imperfect) professional
trajectory. While Watkins argues that White reformers’ actions set up an inferior sys-
tem of schooling for African Americans, others hold that the leadership of African
Americans during this period should not be discounted, and that a commitment
to community and social justice distinguished them (Murtadha & Watts, 2005). In
addition, researchers have identified the unique strengths that African American
women superintendents bring to their work.

Benefits include opportunities to serve as role models for culturally diverse

students, providing a more humanistic and relational style of leadership, and
a unique understanding and commitment to ensuring equitable educational
opportunities for all students in the present climate of educational reform.
(Tillman & Cochran, 2000)

Still, leadership over school systems for leaders of color often comes when hope for
reform has faded. School boards often appoint leaders of color as a last resort to ed-
ucational turmoil in a district, when resources and political will are scarce, leaving
them in precarious positions over struggling school systems (Lewis & Nakagawa,
1995; Murtadha-Watts, 2000). The new school leaders, then, are often unwittingly
critiquing the leadership of people of color.

CONCLUSION

Market-based policies change the conception of what a “public” school and public
school system are (Lubienski, 2001). Because of the policy mechanisms that govern
many school choice policies—characterized by limited regulation and enforcement
of civil rights laws—these policies largely attend to private, individualized goals for
public education. Parents navigating the terrain laid by policymakers are aware of
62 PUBLIC SCHOOLS OR PRIVATE GOODS?

these shortcomings, and rely on stratified social networks to select and enroll their
students in the schools in their communities (Pattillo, 2015). The United States
provides a relatively weak social safety net, and schools operate in an environment
where low-income students of color often have inadequate housing, lack health
care, and live in concentrated poverty and isolated segregation. In lieu of a compre-
hensive social policy to address these inequities, often the responsibility for solving
the manifestation of this inequality in social outcomes falls on the schools (Wells,
2010). Many researchers who have documented the unequal parental access to in-
formation and opportunity to enroll their children in “good” schools through school
choice policies have concluded that quality schooling shouldn’t be left up to choice
or chance but rather that educational opportunity should be understood as a right
and provided in the broadest ways (Perry, Moses, Cortes, Delpit, & Wynne, 2010).
The evidence on parental choice processes demonstrates that parents utilize
a number of considerations when allowed to choose schools for their children.
These considerations are often informed by the racial demographics of the school
(Schneider & Buckley, 2002). While research demonstrates that parents who are
able enroll their children in preferred schools of choice report higher levels of satis-
faction, we know comparatively much less about the parents unable to access their
preferred schools, or parents whose children enrolled, and left or were pushed out
of said schools. Policymakers and school and system leaders wishing to redress the
issues with selectivity, segregation, and exclusion that come with parental choice
can help to craft choice policies that are race conscious with an eye toward ensuring
diverse and equitable access and outcomes, and that anticipate the possibilities of
excluding children with special needs.

END-OF-CHAPTER QUESTIONS
1. What are the hallmarks of school choice policies that include provisions for
equity and access? How do they differ from school choice polices that do not
include such provisions?
2. How does the role of private funding shape the design, implementation, and
research evidence on choice policies?

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CHAPTER 4

National or Special Interests?

Federal and State Education Policy
and Reform

In 1973, in San Antonio School District v. Rodriguez, the U.S. Supreme Court held that
“there is no constitutional right to an equal education.” Concerned parents from a
poor school district in San Antonio challenged the constitutionality of their school
funding formula, which was rejected in a 5-to-4 decision. The majority determined
that as long as the state provides each child with “an opportunity to acquire” at least
“the basic minimal skills necessary,” there was no violation of constitutional rights.
Thus, variations of spending at the state level, or, in other words, resource inequality,
were not the responsibility of the state to address. Despite the highest federal court
weighing in on education matters, education is not mentioned in the U.S. Constitu-
tion, and unlike countries with centralized ministries of education, the U.S. federal
government has historically had a very limited role in what happens in schools.
Rather, education is a state responsibility, and every state constitution includes
an “education clause” requiring the establishment and administration of a system
of normal or common schools that provide a basic education to every child. Although
these education provisions vary by state, they generally require: (1) the obligation
of legislatures to enact laws to govern the public schools, (2) the organization of
the public schools as one unit, (3) the ideal that schools are public and governed by
the people, (4) the belief that schools are free and common to all, and that (5) tax
resources be allocated fairly to equally benefit citizens regardless of wealth, influ-
ence, or status (Alexander & Alexander, 2001). Each state also has its own set of stat-
utes, case law, attorney general opinions, and administrative regulations that form
the basis for school governance, along with its own judicial system responsible for
the review and interpretation of cases to ensure that the actions of state officials are
constitutional and just.
Nevertheless, the federal government, despite funding less than 7% of the over-
all education budget, remains a powerful force in shaping state and local education
policymaking and reform. The power struggle between the federal government’s
vision for an internationally competitive education system that prepares workers for
the new global economy, a state’s desire to increase its national education rankings,
70 NATIONAL OR SPECIAL INTERESTS?

and most recently, the role of education management and reform advocacy or-
ganizations to disrupt traditional policymaking processes to advance the political
agendas of their leaders and donors, reflects the new education policy arena that
ultimately impacts the lives of students, teachers, and school leaders. Given these
competing agendas and interests, we ask, who really controls the schools? Further-
more, who truly has the power to “improve” education? What does this improve-
ment look like and who decides?
This chapter explores the perennial tension that exists between federal and state
education policy and reform efforts, competing goals of schooling (e.g. economic v.
humanistic) and the ideas and ideologies that animate the politics of education pol-
icy amid a rapidly shifting policy landscape that includes a growing number of non-
state actors and neoliberal policy goals. We begin with an overview of the changing
role and influence of the federal government, followed by a discussion of the role
that states play in providing education to all students. We then introduce the non-
state actors, including for-profit education management organizations (EMOs),
charter management organizations (CMOs), education reform advocacy organiza-
tions (ERAOs), and philanthropic foundations that in many states have disrupted
successful traditional policymaking processes in ways that have diminished the
power of traditional state and federal policy actors, while strengthening the role and
impact of these new policy networks and shift from government to governance.

FEDERAL ROLE IN EDUCATION POLICY

American school governance reflects a complex web of policymaking and politics

across multiple layers and branches of government. Despite the federal govern-
ment’s heightened role in education policy since the authorization of the Elemen-
tary and Secondary Education Act (ESEA) in 1965, its reauthorization in 2015 as
the Every Student Succeeds Act (ESSA) reflected a pendulum shift from historic
levels of federal authority to what became bipartisan support for greater state and
local control (Sampson & Horsford, 2017). Nevertheless, “a perennial tension ex-
ists between the Tenth Amendment’s notion of states’ rights and the Fourteenth
Amendment’s equal protection under the law” (Sampson & Horsford, 2017, p. xx).
Those who support federalism and states’ rights argue that federal overreach has re-
sulted in an unhealthy balance between the federal government and the states. They
advocate for a limited federal role given the U.S. Constitution’s silence on provid-
ing public education to its citizens and argue, correctly so, that the establishment,
governance, and maintenance of a system of public schools are a state responsibility.
The separate and unequal provision of education historically and thus violation
of the Fourteenth Amendment’s guarantee of equal protection under the law for stu-
dents based on race, class, language, gender, and ability serve as a rationale for a more
active federal role. In fact, the federal government became active in education in 1965,
with the passing of the ESEA, a federal statute that provided compensatory funding
to low-income schools and other resources. Original areas of funding included those
listed below with funding for special and bilingual education added later.
 NATIONAL OR SPECIAL INTERESTS? 71

Title I. Financial Assistance to Local Educational Agencies for the Education of

Children of Low-Income Families
Title II. School Library Resources, Textbooks, and other Instructional Materials
Title III. Supplementary Educational Centers and Services
Title IV. Educational Research and Training
Title V. Grants to Strengthen State Departments of Education
Title VI. General Provisions

The federal role in education has seen a dramatic increase in influence, attention,
and authority since the 2001 passage of the No Child Left Behind Act, a reauthoriza-
tion of the ESEA of 1965. In fact, No Child Left Behind (NCLB) marked a critical
turning point in education policy given the significant power granted to the federal
government and executive branch, in particular. NCLB also unleashed an increase
in private sector contracting through the requirement that schools in need of im-
provement provide supplementary education services. It was also an opportunity
to use the unfunded mandate as a strategy to get states to align policies to federal
preferences in exchange for federal revenue.

A Nation at Risk : The Origins of Reform

Our current obsession with test score data and a politics of competition that has sought
to reclaim the standing of America’s schools as being the best in the world found its
origins in the events leading up to and following the publication in 1983 of the A Nation
at Risk (NAR) report by a bipartisan commission. In 1981, as a member of the Reagan
Administration, United States Secretary of Education Terrel H. Bell wanted to study
the nation’s education problems and marshal public support for change through the
creation of a presidential commission on education. The mood of the country was low
given a sluggish economy, high interest rates, and widespread unemployment, particu-
larly among youth of color (Bell, 1988; Hunt & Staton, 1996). According to Bell (1988),
“There was more soul-searching, wringing of hands, and criticism than confidence in
those solutions, and the actions the government did take appeared ineffective. … I was
hearing constant complaints about education and its effectiveness” (p. 114).
Since Reagan did not support the idea of a presidential panel, likely due to
his campaign promise to eliminate the Department of Education, Bell exercised
his cabinet level authority to create the National Commission on Excellence in
Education (NCEE) on August 26, 1981—“to examine the quality of education in
the United States and to make a report to the Nation and to him within 18 months
of its first meeting” (Bell, 1988; NCEE, 1983, p. 1). More specifically, the commis-
sion would be responsible for:

assessing the quality of teaching and learning in our Nation’s public and private
schools, colleges, and universities;
comparing American schools and colleges with those of other advanced nations;
studying the relationship between college admissions requirements and stu-
dent achievement in high school;
72 NATIONAL OR SPECIAL INTERESTS?

identifying educational programs which result in notable student success in

college;
assessing the degree to which major social and educational changes in the last
quarter-century have affected student achievement; and
defining problems which must be faced and overcome if we are successfully to
pursue the course of excellence in education (NCEE, pp. 1–2).

These recommendations covered content, standards and expectations, time, teach-

ing, and leadership and fiscal support that, according to the report, “the American
people can begin to act on now, that can be implemented over the next several years,
and that promise lasting reform” (p. 23). Although the report also acknowledged its
proposals were nothing new, its assertion that “The Federal Government has the
primary responsibility to identify the national interest in education” and “should also
help fund and support efforts to protect and promote that interest,” (p. 23) reflected
a shift concerning the traditional federal role in education.
NAR was likewise ironic in its call to increase the federal government’s na-
tional interest in education given the cold war politics of the time and the height-
ened criticism of U.S. schools that resulted from Russia’s launch of Sputnik in
1957 and marked Russia making a significant space and science achievement
before the U.S. (Bracey, 2008). NAR argued “downwardly spiraling pupil per-
formance had rendered the U.S. education system dysfunctional, thereby threat-
ening the nation’s technological, military, and economic preeminence” (Guthrie &
Springer, 2008, p. 8); at the same time, the Reagan White House planned to
abolish the Department of Education. The report’s declaration that the federal
government “must provide the national leadership to ensure that the Nation’s
public and private resources are marshaled to address” educational excellence
(p. 23) foreshadowed what would become an expanding federal role in education
for decades to come, but NAR did not provide a clear direction as to the level
or kind of resources needed to stem this rising tide of educational mediocrity
(Wong & Nicotera, 2004).

FROM EQUITY TO ACCOUNTABILITY

In addition to redefining the federal government’s role in education, NAR pro-

vided what Wong and Nicotera (2004) posited a “third way” or perspective con-
cerning this newly conceptualized federal role. Unlike the equity and access focus
of Johnson’s Great Society initiatives during the Civil Rights Era, or even the
Emergency School Aid Act of 1972 under the Nixon Administration that sought
to support school desegregation efforts, NAR demanded a higher standard for
students, parents, and educators. It was also in direct opposition to Reagan’s New
Federalism, which focused narrowly on efficiency and sought to devolve educa-
tion to the states and abolish the Department of Education altogether. NAR did
not adhere to either of the two prevailing policy paradigms of equity or efficiency
but rather to a new paradigm concerned with standards, quality, and excellence.
 NATIONAL OR SPECIAL INTERESTS? 73

In fact, the word efficiency was mentioned not once in the 36-page document.
Equity and equitable were only stated once each as emphasized in the following
passage:

We do not believe that a public commitment to excellence and educational re-

form must be made at the expense of a strong public commitment to the equitable
treatment of our diverse population. The twin goals of equity and high-quality
schooling have profound and practical meaning for our economy and society,
and we cannot permit one to yield to the other in principle or in practice. To
do so would deny young people their chance to learn and live according to their
aspirations and abilities. It would also lead to a generalized accommodation to
mediocrity in our society on the one hand or the creation of an undemocratic
elitism on the other.
(NAR, 1983, p. 13)

Reflecting on NAR’s impact on the education of poor and minority children in

the 21st century, social psychologist Jeff Howard (2003) agreed with much of the
report but remained troubled by what he interpreted as “a strong … rather strange,
juxtaposition between the goals of excellence and equity” (p. 85). In reference to
the report’s sole mention of equity, he concluded that it “seems to turn on the as-
sumption that in a diverse society a commitment to excellence will work at cross
purposes to equity, unless the balance is carefully managed” and that “If we put too
much emphasis on the drive for equity, we will be left with mediocrity” (p. 85).
The policy paradigm shifted from equity in the 1960s, as represented by increased
federal aid to disadvantaged schools through the ESEA of 1965 and Title I policy,
to excellence in the 1980s. The shift to emphasizing excellence was reflected in the
Hawkins-Stafford Amendments of 1988 that required district and state accounta-
bility measures for student performance and the evaluation of the Title I program’s
success in improving student achievement (Wong & Nicotera, 2004). This move
from equity to effectiveness and accountability reflected NAR’s influence on fed-
eral education policy, which became increasingly high-stakes over the next two
decades.
President Clinton’s Goals 2000: Educate America Act in 1994 and, of course, the
No Child Left Behind Act of 2001 operationalized this shift by replacing a focus on
inputs, funding, and resources with standards, outcomes, and results (Cross, 2004;
Darling-Hammond, 2007; Nichols & Berliner, 2007; Welner & Weitzman, 2005).
While this change in focus was not inherently bad, a failure to address what Presi-
dent George W. Bush portrayed as the “soft bigotry of low expectations” did exactly
that—establish a different set of expectations for students based on demographic
and family characteristics, primarily race and class. Rather than be used to identify
and remedy educational inequities by race and socioeconomic, the collection and
disaggregation of student test scores simply confirmed to the American public that
poor minority children were not as smart or high achieving as White children. Not
only were these students at risk of school failure; they were the ones responsible for
placing the nation at risk.
74 NATIONAL OR SPECIAL INTERESTS?

No Child Left Behind

The start of the 21st century marked an important shift in federal education pol-
icy and reform in the United States. In 2001, under President George W. Bush,
Congress reauthorized ESEA, which thereafter became known as NCLB (NCLB,
2003). Its expansion of the federal role in education included holding schools ac-
countable for student achievement according to “subgroups” (e.g. racial and ethnic
groups, low-income students, students with disabilities, English language learners,
etc.) and, perhaps most notably, the disaggregation of test scores by race as a way
to measure and address gaps in achievement between different racial groups. As
Noguera (2008a) noted, given America’s history of associating racial gaps in intel-
lectual ability with genetic differences, “the fact that federal educational policy has
made the goal of closing the racial achievement gap a national priority is truly re-
markable” (para. 3). Yet subsequent efforts to close the gap and expand educational
opportunity have remained largely unsuccessful at addressing racial disparities in
U.S. schools (Au, 2009; Carter & Welner, 2013; Darling-Hammond, 2007; Delpit,
2012; Horsford, 2011; Kantor & Lowe, 2006; Ladson-Billings, 2006; Meier &
Wood, 2004; Noguera & Wing, 2006; Payne, 2008).
Despite NCLB expiring in 2007, it would take another eight years of political pos-
turing and polarization before new federal education policy would gain the bipartisan
support necessary to be reauthorized and signed into law by President Barack Obama
as the ESSA (ESSA, 2015). During those eight years, the convergence of top-down,
high-stakes accountability reform efforts resulting from NCLB and the systematic
collection of student achievement data by race provided evidence of how students
were performing by racial group, highlighting the academic success of White and
Asian students and persistently low performance of Black and Latino children and
youth. In addition, outdated funding formulas, deepening segregation, and decades
of achievement gap data have normalized racial disparities at all levels of education,
concretizing a narrative of Black academic, intellectual, and cultural inferiorities that
has long been critiqued as a pervasive and iniquitous feature of American schooling
(Cross, 2007; Delpit, 2012; Du Bois, 1935; Horsford, 2011; Horsford & Grosland,
2013; Noguera, 2008b; Perry, Steele, & Hilliard, 2004; Selden, 1999; Shujaa, 1994;
Sizemore, 2008; Watkins, 2001; Yeakey & Henderson, 2003).
The reauthorizations of ESEA in 2001 and 2015 invite reflection in preparation
of the implementation of ESSA during the 2017–2018 school year and going for-
ward. Both acts represent substantial policy impacts with implications for school-
ing at every level. Other federal policy initiatives have been similarly impactful.
For example, the Race to the Top (RTTT) program was implemented as part of
the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act in response to the worst economic
recession in U.S. history. As part of the Obama administration’s economic stim-
ulus package, the $4.35 billion allocated for RTTT essentially doubled down on
NCLB’s focus on high-stakes accountability measures and expanded choice and
competition, not only within local school districts but also between states strapped
for funding in the postrecession bust. Most of the attention at the federal level,
however, has focused on racial achievement gaps and ignored the ways in which
 NATIONAL OR SPECIAL INTERESTS? 75

the expansion of choice, competition, and a neoliberal focus on global workforce

development has reproduced and increased, in many instances, racial inequality
and further concretized racial caste in America.

Race to the Top (RTTT)

In 2010, President Obama and U.S. Secretary of Education Arne Duncan announced
plans to reform public education through RTTT—a federal grant program whereby
states could compete for a share of $4.35 billion in federal education dollars to spur
educational innovation. The largest competition of its kind in the nation’s history,
RTTT sparked the formation of state-level task forces and officials actively collecting
school accountability data, revising state policies, and in some instances amending
their constitutions to meet the eligibility requirements for funding. These included
(a) adopting standards and assessments that contribute to college and career read-
iness and global competitiveness; (b) building data systems that measure student
growth and success and inform teachers and principals about how they can improve
instruction; (c) recruiting, developing, rewarding, and retaining effective teachers
and principals, especially where they are needed most; and (d) turning around the
lowest-achieving schools. This strategy of incentivizing policy through competitive
funding emulated the strategies of venture philanthropies, organizations we will dis-
cuss in detail in Chapter 6. President Obama (2009) hailed the program as one that
would “not be based on politics, ideology, or the preferences of a particular interest
group,” but rather “whether a state is ready to do what works.” He explained,

By using the best data available to determine whether a state can meet a few key
benchmarks for reform—and states that outperform the rest will be rewarded
with a grant. Not every state will win and not every school district will be happy
with the results. But America’s children, America’s economy, and America it-
self will be better for it.

Yet RTTT’s emphasis on the politics of markets and competition, as described in

Chapter 2, clearly demonstrated a commitment to neoliberal approach to reform
and an unabashed attempt to pressure states to align their policies with the ad-
ministration’s federal reform agenda. Its focus on high-stakes testing, teacher and
leader accountability, privatization, charter school experimentation, and school
turnaround models reflected a neoliberal politics of education and a far cry from
Obama’s campaign promise to invest in schools (Welner & Burris, 2014). Rather
than tempering the damaging effects of NCLB’s unprecedented focus on standards
and accountability, RTTT became “NCLB’s intensifying makeover” (Welner &
Burris, 2014, p. 25) and “political cover for state education reformers to innovate
and helping states construct the administrative capacity to implement these innova-
tions effectively” (McGuinn, 2015, p. 136).
Yet notably absent from President Obama’s campaign promises were policy
recommendations related to addressing the growing problem of racial inequality
in education—the very space where policymakers are demanding greater results in
76 NATIONAL OR SPECIAL INTERESTS?

preparing students academically for college or career and global competitiveness.

Pitting states against states, districts against districts, and educators against their
peers, RTTT’s obsession with competition, including its aim to better prepare U.S.
students to compete globally, was especially illogical in its suggestion that state and
district competition for funding based on high-stakes accountability in hard eco-
nomic times would somehow help to lift the nation’s most disadvantaged students
and schools from the bottom of the metaphorical well. Instead, RTTT’s politics of
accountability and competition not only failed to acknowledge their current loca-
tion within the nation’s social, economic, and political structures but also did noth-
ing to incentivize collaboration and community or the public good. As such, this
era of reform demands new ways of thinking about inequality, particularly for those
students “racing to the top” from the bottom rungs of America’s economic ladder.

Every Student Succeeds Act (ESSA)

On December 10, 2015, President Obama signed the ESSA into law, making it the
eighth reauthorization of the ESEA of 1965. Given the significant gridlock in Wash-
ington and accusations of federal overreach in response to its RTTT and ESEA
Flexibility programs, ESSA was deemed a “long shot” months before its passage
(Hess & Eden, 2017). Nevertheless, it prevailed, marking a major shift in educa-
tion policy from an era of federal accountability and control to giving power back
to the states. This shift reflects the most recent effort to balance the fundamen-
tal propositions of the Tenth and Fourteenth Amendments (Hess & Eden, 2017).
The perennial tension between the Tenth Amendment’s notion that “The powers
not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the
States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people” and the Fourteenth
Amendment’s declaration that government shall not “deny to any person within its
jurisdiction the equal protection of laws” underscore the complexity associated with
the federal role in education, particularly in relation to “the people” or the public.
In the U.S., the violation of these equal protections by states and local school
boards has compelled civil rights groups and community advocates to seek support
from both the federal government and the courts to advance an ongoing struggle
for educational equality, opportunity, and equity (Cross, 2004; Hochschild, 2003;
Maeroff, 2010). Whether the question of desegregation (Brown v. Board of Educa-
tion, 1954), funding adequacy and equity (Serrano v. Priest, 1971), special education
(Education for All Handicapped Children Act, 1975), or the education of English
learners (Lau v. Nichols, 1974), the role of the federal government has been critical
to holding states and local school districts accountable for ensuring educational pro-
tections for populations who have been excluded, segregated, and/or discriminated
against through local and state-level education policies and practices. While ESSA
arguably presents an opportunity for local communities to play a larger role in de-
termining what their local schools and school systems should look like, America’s
history of elected school boards and state legislators codifying and perpetuating
school inequality through policy complicate this ongoing tension between states’
rights and equal protection under the law (Sampson & Horsford, 2017).
 NATIONAL OR SPECIAL INTERESTS? 77

NEW POLICY ACTORS, REGIMES, AND GOVERNANCE

Historically, federal-, state-, and district-level state actors have been central to the
design, approval, and implementation of education policy. There have, of course,
always been special interest groups, lobbyists, advocacy organizations, and activ-
ists who have attempted to influence policies. However, more recently, there has
been a proliferation of policy actors in the political arena that did not exist to any
great extent thirty years ago, and these actors are increasingly global. These new
global policy actors in education include venture philanthropists, ideological think
tanks, private edu-businesses and their lobbyists, charter school management organi-
zations, education consultancies, and other policy entrepreneurs (Ball, 2009; Fang,
2017; Scott, 2009). There is also an increase of both grassroots, locally supported
organizations and what have been termed astroturf or grasstops advocacy organiza-
tions, groups that employ local advocates, but which are largely funded by corpo-
rate money and wealthy individuals, and which cater to the policy preferences of
their funders. These new policy entrepreneurs and the global networks that have
formed around them have altered the political landscape in education, sometimes
gaining greater policy influence than traditional education special interest groups,
such as unions and professional associations.
Often referred to as intermediary organizations that mediate between the
State, the private sector, and civil society, they increased the political role of new
non-State actors leading to what has been referred to as a shift from government to
governance (Ball, 2008; Rhodes, 1997). Because most wealthy philanthropists and
corporations use their considerable wealth to promote pro-business and market
reforms, their influence has created not only a “new governance” sector outside
the State but also a new common sense about how education should be funded and
delivered (Friedman, 1962; Salas-Porras, 2005; Scott, 2009).
New policy networks have formed to promote various reforms aimed at pri-
vatization of public schools. One of these reforms is the growth of the charter
school movement. Since this movement has succeeded in charterizing several
urban school districts, the most notable being New Orleans, we will use this
movement as an example of how a policy network has grown up around char-
ter schools. While many charter schools were founded to respond to community
needs or to present an option that was lacking in the local school district, the
larger charter school movement is ideologically anti-union and aims to privatize
public schooling. The charter school policy network, which is largely funded by
venture philanthropists, includes individual charter schools, management organi-
zations (CMOs and EMOs), charter school real estate development organizations,
advocacy groups, alternative leadership and teaching development programs, and
research units (Scott, 2015).
EMOs generally operate on a for-profit basis and operate charter and traditional
public schools. CMOs generally operate on a nonprofit basis and operate charter
schools exclusively. Many of the philanthropies sympathetic to charter schools are
also funders of voucher programs and advocacy related to school vouchers (see Chi,
2008; People for the American Way, 1999, 2003).
78 NATIONAL OR SPECIAL INTERESTS?

Education Management Organizations

EMOs and CMOs are organizations that manage one or more schools and receive
public funds. They can be for-profit or nonprofit. Founders often are politically
connected to state and/or local policymakers, university faculty, and elites from the
private sector. These networks enable them to successfully apply for charters, secure
community support for their schools, and acquire critical public and private funding.
While charter school laws vary from state to state, most forbid for-profit entities from
being granted charters. Instead, EMOs will usually form a nonprofit arm or work
with an existing nonprofit organization that will then contract with the EMO to run
the school. There is evidence that EMOs, in general, are not securing management
contracts in a competitive bidding process but rather using political connections and
direct outreach to charter schools and school district officials to market their schools.
For-profit management of charters has been facilitated by the cooperation of state
politicians and corporate and philanthropic actors. More recently, wealthy technol-
ogy donors and investors like Reed Hastings of Netflix have been active in growing
the charter school sector (Garcia, Barber, & Molnar, 2009; Warner, 2016).
Early in the charter school movement in Massachusetts, for example, the con-
servative think tank the Pioneer Institute actively promoted charter schools. Its then
director played a key role in charter legislation, and its executive director served
as acting Under Secretary of Education. In addition to raising money for charter
schools, “Pioneer also distributed a how-to manual, The Massachusetts Charter School
Handbook, and sponsors seminars bringing together entrepreneurs selling curriculum
packages, management systems, and assessment and evaluation programs in addition
to companies, such as A.P.S., that supply these services.” (Vine, 1997). In Massachu-
setts, the lines between the members of the political structure and the members of
the for-profit management companies were blurry from the beginning. The ambi-
guity of charter school legislation provides support for franchises to proliferate.
Similar blurring of public and private characterized the charter school movement
in Ohio. John Brennan, a controversial operator of for-profit charter schools, was able
to acquire his schools through his political connections (Oplinger & Willard, 1999a).
He donated over $1 million to the Republican Party, as well as $89,000 to former
Ohio Governor Voinovich’s campaign in 1990. In return, he was appointed to chair
a commission that would create a voucher program in Ohio. His schools would have
directly benefited from the program he created. Brennan, however, turned his at-
tention to charter schools. He had started a private school with his daughter in 1993
that he wanted to convert into a charter in order to get state funding. But the law
forbade such conversions for any private schools started before 1997. Brennan got an
exception to the law by claiming that he was dissolving his school. The new school,
operating in the same building, was approved. He was able to do the same with four
other schools. Brennan continued to have access to the new governor, Governor
Taft, and was able to get legislation passed that enabled him to accept children from
across school boundaries. His company, White Hat Management, operates multi-
ple charter schools in Ohio. By the mid-2000s, his chain of schools is bigger than
three-fourths of the school districts in Ohio. Although Brennan may have used his
 NATIONAL OR SPECIAL INTERESTS? 79

political connections for his own market empowerment, he did not share the wealth.
His schools paid teachers just $19,000 a year (Oplinger & Willard, 1999b).
Edison Schools, once the largest for-profit EMO, and formerly a publicly
traded company on the NASDQ stock exchange, also benefited from its politi-
cal connections in Pennsylvania to then Governor Tom Ridge. Over community
protest, the state awarded Edison contracts in Chester and Philadelphia to run
their troubled schools—in Chester Upland, all of the schools, and in Philadelphia,
twenty schools. Although initially then Edison CEO Chris Whittle promised that
Edison could run the schools better for less money, the schools contracted out in
Philadelphia have been given more money than other schools with mixed results.
Still, much of the protest over the contracts was due to the perception that Edison
Schools had an inside track to Harrisburg and that the company had become an ally
of the Republicans in the state capital.
The path many EMO founders followed in Florida was to first form a non-
profit to write and get the charter authorized, and then to contract with itself to run
the school. But political connections have also proved important to EMO founders.
For example, John Hage, a close advisor to Jeb Bush, former Governor, helped
to enact charter schools legislation. He knew nothing of the reform when he be-
gan his work, having come from a business and political background, but he saw
the opportunity to manage schools, and began a for-profit EMO, Charter Schools
USA. “It was a classic business opportunity,” he said, “lots of demand and very lit-
tle supply” (Fischer, 2002). In 2005, one-third of Florida students were attending
for-profit charter schools. Some developers have teamed with companies to start
schools in new upscale housing tracts. Hage created the nonprofit Polk Charter
Foundation and then applied for seven charters, whose applications it copyrighted.
The proprietary nature of EMOs in terms of curriculum and charter applications is
a hallmark of the new school managers, though, as we discuss in a moment, their
curricula tend to be prepackaged programs created by developers who are often
connected to the school choice and standard movements.
CMO founders are similarly connected. Two Teach For America (TFA) alum-
nae, David Levin and Mike Feinberg, founded the KIPP (Knowledge is Power
Program) Charter Schools. Their schools have grown from two in the Bronx,
New York, and Houston, Texas, in large part due to the financial connections they
established through TFA with The Pisces Foundation and the Broad Foundation.
Though Levin and Feinberg taught for only a few years, they became executives over
a multistate school system, although Feinberg was fired in 2018 over sexual harass-
ment allegations. Now operating 200 schools serving 80,000 children in twenty
states, making it the largest charter school network in the country, KIPP is also
one of the most popular charter networks that espouses a “no excuses” pedagogy.
Their schools are regarded as successful models for teaching low-income children
of color, and they have come to be seen as experts on education for minoritized,
testifying before Congress, and speaking at the Republican National Convention
in 2000.
TFA, an alternative teaching program founded in 1990 by Wendy Kopp, places
inexperienced college graduates from prestigious institutions into urban and rural
80 NATIONAL OR SPECIAL INTERESTS?

school districts experiencing teacher shortages. Corps members commit to teach

for two years, and most leave teaching after their stint is over. TFA alumnae also
play a key role in the expansion of school choice and the development of EMOs
and CMOs. As mentioned earlier, KIPP founders Levin and Feinberg are alumnae
of the program. Many of the teachers in KIPP schools are former TFA corps mem-
bers. TFA corps members are also in key leadership positions at the Broad Foun-
dation, which is an influential donor to school choice, and holds school choice and
market-based competition as the key for school improvement. In addition, TFA
maintains a job placement site for its alumnae on its website, on which EMOs
and CMOs, as well as technology and financial service corporations and law firms,
recruit alumni. Kopp’s husband, Richard Barth, has worked for Edison Schools,
Inc. and is now the CEO of the KIPP Foundation. Finally, TFA and school choice
organizations receive funding from the same donors. Although TFA was initially
founded as a stopgap to chronic teacher shortages in urban and rural school dis-
tricts, many of the teachers it places currently go directly into charter schools oper-
ated by CMOs led by former TFA teachers. Thus, there is a direct pipeline between
TFA and the education management sector (Trujillo, Scott, & Rivera, 2017).

Venture Philanthropies and Foundations

Central to the expansion of EMOs and CMOs has been the support of particu-
lar foundations that support school choice, including the Broad Foundation, The
Walton Family Foundation, the Pisces Foundation, and the Bill and Melinda Gates
Foundation. These philanthropies regard themselves as distinct from more tra-
ditional ones and have come to be known as venture philanthropies. As Minow
(2002) observes,

Growing numbers of entrepreneurs and heirs to accumulated wealth indicate

a desire to make their own choices, rather than defer to professionals, and to
develop ‘their own private visions of the public good.’ With the extraordinary
opportunities open to millionaires to invest in the public good and with public
spending increasingly restricted to nondiscretionary income transfer programs,
private philanthropy efforts will play an even larger role in shaping innovative
responses to collective needs.
(p. 11)

Historically, the relationship between philanthropy and advocacy in the education

for poor and minoritized students has been fraught with racial politics. At the level
of representation, most philanthropists and school choice executives are White,
while they focus their efforts on schools and school systems that are almost ex-
clusively comprised of minoritized and poor students (Schnaiberg, 1999). Venture
philanthropy’s arrival has changed and challenged prior philanthropic models by
providing funding to for-profit entities and by supporting advocacy-based research.
Venture philanthropies include the Walton Family Foundation, the largest funder
of K-12 schooling outside of the federal government, and the Broad Foundation.
 NATIONAL OR SPECIAL INTERESTS? 81

As we will discuss further in Chapter 6, the Broad Foundation is also a key

supporter of school choice reforms. Started in Los Angeles, California, in 1999 by
Eli and Edythe Broad, the Foundation’s mission is to “improve urban public edu-
cation through better governance, management, and labor relations” (http://www.
broadfoundation.org). While the foundation invests in multiple initiatives related
to these three areas, charters and competition are prominent among them. The
combination of the funding areas, which recruit business professionals into school
and school district leadership, award urban school districts with an annual prize for
improved performance and management, and restructure labor unions while also
encouraging school choice and competition, perhaps encapsulates the agenda and
strategy of the new school managers best. The Broad Center, the gateway for recruit-
ing business executives to work in school districts, has an all-male executive board
of which none have experience in public education. While the Broad Foundation
does not seek to dismantle public education, it does aim to reshape it according to
business practices. The foundation has supported CMOs such as KIPP, Green Dot,
and Aspire Public Schools as well as several charter school associations and charter
school real estate development organizations. It also funds and operates the Broad
Residency for Urban School Leaders, the Broad Academy, and awards the Broad
Prize to high-performing charter school networks and school districts.
The Pisces Foundation, which was started by Gap founders Donald and
Delores Fisher, is a major donor to KIPP schools. The Fishers donations to KIPP
helped to establish the KIPP Foundation and to train and recruit principals. Pisces
has also been a supporter of another CMO, Leadership Public Schools, which runs
a network of Bay Area, California high schools. As another piece of the network
of new school managers, Pisces is the largest private donor to TFA. Anjua Master,
managing director, commented, “We don’t select charter locations as much as we
seek to locate effective leaders. Most important to us is the leader. We invest in
people first” (Hartney, 2004).
Another investor in school choice is the NewSchools Venture Fund. One of the
founders of this Silicon Valley organization is Kim Smith, who was a founding member
of TFA. NewSchools Venture Fund has given Leadership Public Schools $5 million
to support its expansion as well as provided deep investments in the growth of several
other EMOs and CMOs. NewSchools Venture Fund represents itself as the “new”
philanthropy, agnostic about for-profit or nonprofit approaches to education, and re-
gards its funding as investments, some of which provide a monetary return on their
investment, and some of which do not. Silicon Valley venture capitalists, as well as the
Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, have financed much of the organizations’ efforts
to increase new school models, especially charter school management organizations.
The support of these donors is not just financial. The donors also provide le-
gitimacy to the leaders, and access to other social networks in government and
business that can further advance the missions of the CMOs and EMOs. Thus,
the financiers are the financial backbone helping to restructure, and in many ways,
privatize public education leadership and reform. Moreover, private funding dras-
tically alters the ways in which “public” school funding is conceptualized (Scott &
Holme, 2002). Evidence indicates that venture philanthropists have the attention
82 NATIONAL OR SPECIAL INTERESTS?

of policymakers. A study asking policymakers to rank most influential individuals

in educational policy found that Bill Gates was named first, before the Secretary of
Education (Swanson & Barlage, 2006).

STATE-LEVEL EDUCATION POLICY AND POLITICS

With the increased role of the federal government and involvement of new policy
networks and new non-state political actors, it is easy to forget that Education in
the U.S. is actually a decentralized system governed primarily at the state and local
levels. Unlike most countries that have national education laws and ministries of
education that govern schools, the U.S. constitution does not so much as mention
education. Over 90% of K-12 public education in the U.S. is funded at the state
and local levels. Most states draw their funding from a combination of income
and sales taxes and state lotteries. Most of the rest of the local funding comes from
property taxes. Other than the federal laws described earlier, most of the laws and
policies that govern education are made in state capitals and some are delegated
to district school boards. For instance, each state has different laws governing the
authorization of charter schools and the evaluation and certification of teachers and
principals. State departments of education also provide information, resources, and
technical assistance to schools and school districts.
For this reason, many of the policy entrepreneurs described in the previous sec-
tion have focused much of their attention on state and local governments. While
many of these political actors are actively influencing state and local policies, we will
describe in some detail the one that is perhaps most influential, not only in influencing
education policy but policies in every sector of society. As we discussed previously,
before the 1980s, traditional policy actors in education, like professional associations,
teachers’ unions, and even individual educators, had greater access to state legislators
and had considerable influence on education policy. Prior to the 1980s, business
sector organizations like the chambers of commerce and big corporate lobbyists did
not see education as a major area of interest, leaving educators to exert considera-
ble influence. But since the 1980s, the business and corporate sectors have become
more active, particularly at the state level. A case in point is the American Legislative
Exchange Council (ALEC), which we explore next in some detail.

American Legislative Exchange Council (ALEC)

ALEC is composed of state legislators and corporate leaders who collaborate to produce
model or template bills that are introduced or promoted by ALEC members within
state legislatures. On its website, ALEC states that its mission is “to advance the Jefferso-
nian principles of free markets, limited government, federalism, and individual liberty,
through a nonpartisan public-private partnership of America’s state legislators, mem-
bers of the private sector, the federal government, and general public” (ALEC web-
site, n.d., para 1). ALEC has been actively promoting model legislation for over forty
years behind the scenes and largely under the radar of media, the research community,
 NATIONAL OR SPECIAL INTERESTS? 83

and public sector professionals. But in 2011, The Center for Media and Democracy
“leaked” nearly 800 of its model bills to the public making visible the extent to which it
has been actively promoting policy initiatives in various sectors, including education, by
writing bills that benefit the ideological and financial interests of corporations.
In rapid succession, laws were passed in multiple states that caused national pro-
tests. In Wisconsin, the new law was aimed at limiting the rights of public sector unions;
in Florida, it was the Stand Your Ground law that made George Zimmerman and
Trayvon Martin household names; and in several states, voter ID laws were passed
that some claimed were a thinly veiled attempt to take Democratic voters off the roles.
Journalists around the country began connecting the dots and identified ALEC as a cen-
tral culprit in all three cases. What they often didn’t say was that ALEC did not act alone
but rather was part of a large and proliferating network of new policy actors who have
over the last four decades worked largely behind the scenes to accrue significant policy
influence at the state and national levels. While not as controversial as other of ALEC’s
task forces, its education task force continues to quietly sponsor bills in state legisla-
tures that promote a particular set of education policies informed by a free-market,
libertarian ideology. The protests and media attention ALEC received primarily as a
result of its role in promoting voter ID laws that disproportionally targeted voters of
color led many corporations, nonprofits, and legislators to cancel their memberships or
support of ALEC. The controversy and the withdrawal of some corporate support led
ALEC to close one of its nine task forces—Public Safety and Elections. However, eight
task forces, including education, remain that continue to produce model bills.
ALEC receives the vast majority of its funding directly from corporations that
pay “membership dues” that are many times the dues paid by legislative members.
Membership for legislative members is a largely symbolic $50 a year and represents
a mere 2% of ALEC’s funding. Corporations can pay up to $25,000 a year or more
in membership dues (Graves, 2011). ALEC also takes some money from venture
philanthropists, most notably, the Koch brothers, whose father Fred Koch was a
founding member of the John Birch Society. David Koch founded Americans for
Prosperity, which along with the Heartland Institute is part of the inner circle of
ALEC’s policy network. Other right-wing foundations, such as Castle Rock (Peter
Coors), John M. Olin Foundation, the Broad Foundation, and Bradley Founda-
tion, are among ALEC’s funders as well as also part of their ideological network.
ALEC has strategically chosen to work at the state level, working closely with
the State Policy Network (SPN), which “is made up of free market think tanks—at
least one in every state—fighting to limit government and advance market-friendly
public policy at the state and local levels” (State Policy Network, 2012, p. 1). SPN,
which is heavily funded by the Koch brothers and other venture philanthropists,
was set up during the Reagan administration to create smaller versions of the
Heritage Foundation in each of the states (Center for Media & Democracy, 2013).
These state-level think tanks publish reports, actively place Op-Ed pieces in local
newspapers, and help coordinate the promotion of neoliberal and neoconservative
bills in state legislatures. SPN itself sits on ALEC’s Education Task Force.
The state-level strategy has worked well in the education sector as there has
been a relative lack of scrutiny to state-level education policymaking. In education,
84 NATIONAL OR SPECIAL INTERESTS?

state-level policy received increased attention in the 1980s during what Mazzoni
(1994) called an “eruption” of policy activism at the state level as states mandated
“excellence” through standards. States were also a focus of reform in the 1990s as
state charter school laws emerged (Mazzoni, 1991) and state-level accountability
systems were created (Anderson, 2001). However, as noted earlier, as these state-
level accountability systems became federal laws through the passage of NCLB and,
later, ESSA, and the subsequent focus on RTTT and Common Core standards,
more research and media attention in education has shifted to the federal level
(DeBray, 2006; Kaestle & Lodewick, 2007).
Moreover, as news organizations have had to reduce budgets, they are less
likely to assign reporters to state houses, leaving lawmakers at the state level with
less journalistic scrutiny, and focusing more attention on the contentious issues
surrounding NCLB, RTTT, and the Common Core Standards. These develop-
ments may have contributed until recently to ALEC receiving little attention from
any quarter in spite of the important role it has played at the state policy level. More
recently, states are preempting or withholding shared state revenue from munic-
ipal governments that adopt ordinances in conflict with state policy, such as min-
imum wage laws, sanctuary city ordinances, plastic bag bans, LGBT rights, and
anti-fracking bans. Many of these cases exemplify how the entangled relationship
between race, class, and property maintain a social order and racial hierarchy where
communities of color are often at the mercy of a White power structure. For ex-
ample, a predominantly White state legislature in Alabama preempted the city of
Birmingham, a majority Black city, from setting its own minimum wage.
While the political Right has more effectively deployed ALEC style network
governance, they have spawned a series of progressive counter-networks, often,
themselves, supported by philanthropy. In response to ALEC’s promotion of voter
ID, Stand Your Ground and anti-labor laws, progressive politicians, think tanks, and
advocacy organizations formed counter-networks to challenge ALEC. Color of Change,
a new organization, was formed and joined by Common Cause, NAACP, National
Urban League, Presente!, People for the American Way, the Congressional Progres-
sive Caucus, and other organizations and politicians. Whether these counter-networks
represent a sustainable countervailing force or whether they are merely an ad hoc re-
action to ALEC will depend on how effectively they can manage these new forms of
network governance (including funding) and the political and discursive strategies that
conservative and neoliberal advocacy organizations have so successfully deployed.
A new ALEC-like progressive organization called The State Innovation Ex-
change (SIX) (formerly, ALICE) has emerged and describes itself as

a national resource and strategy center that supports legislators who seek to
strengthen our democracy, fight for working families, defend civil rights and
liberties, and protect the environment. We do this by providing training, em-
phasizing leadership development, amplifying legislators’ voices, and forging
strategic alliances between our legislative network and grassroots movements.
 NATIONAL OR SPECIAL INTERESTS? 85

While no match for the corporate and philanthropic money pouring into the coffers
of right-wing organizations, SIX claims some victories at the state level for pro-
gressives. For instance, many states have passed automatic voter registration laws,
provisions for paid sick leave and paid medical and family leave, and expansion of
earned income tax credit. However, after the 2016 elections, the Republicans con-
trolled the governorship and both legislatures in twenty-six states; the Democrats’
controlled only six. The GOP also had numerical majorities in thirty-three legisla-
tures, one shy of the two-thirds required to initiate a convention on constitutional
amendments.

CONCLUSION

With the NCLB reauthorization of ESEA in 2001, the federal government was able
to leverage the relatively small amount of money—roughly 7% of the education
budget—it provided to states to insist on high-stakes accountability systems in all
states. But some have argued that while practitioners and researchers shifted their
attention to the federal level with NCLB, state legislatures were actively promoting
education policies, often led by lobbyists, think tanks, and other organizations like
the ALEC, which is part lobbyist, part think tank, and part corporate proxy. While
ALEC is just one of many groups that lobby state legislatures, its unique advocacy
strategies and its success in promoting legislation, not just in education but across
all social sectors, requires greater attention to understanding this new landscape and
its implications from a critical policy perspective. For, in the end, perhaps “politi-
cal influence may be more closely related to a group’s ability to build a long-term
and sustainable advocacy coalition” (p. 16). As such, questions of equity (whether
or not state resources are distributed fairly), adequacy (the degree to which public
education is funded), and accountability (whether or not state officials are providing
the type of education described in their respective state constitutions) are important
not only to the function of governance in public education at the state level but also
in relation to interpretation at the federal level and implementation at the district
and local levels.

END-OF-CHAPTER QUESTIONS
1. Should American education be the responsibility of the federal government or
state governments?
2. What is the best way to ensure a balance of power, if any, between the federal
role in education and the state responsibility to provide common or normal
schools for all children?
3. What role should nongovernment policy actors play at the federal and state
levels of government when it comes to education policy and reform?
86 NATIONAL OR SPECIAL INTERESTS?

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Au, W. (2009). Unequal by design: High-stakes testing and the standardization of inequality. New
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CHAPTER 5

School District Governance and

Education Leadership
A Shifting Landscape

In the U.S., local school boards have given way to a range of new governance struc-
tures and policy regimes that constrain the potential for community engagement
and democratic practice. These governance alterations have been influenced by a
neoliberal education agenda advanced through the unfunded mandates of No Child
Left Behind at the federal level, venture philanthropy at the state and local levels,
and major policy reforms at the state level in exchange for the hopes of securing
competitive funds through Race to the Top. The result of these political alterations
is that democratically elected school boards are losing the power they once had.
Granted statutory authority by states, school boards historically have served as
key policy actors at the local community level charged with setting district goals,
creating district policy, and hiring and supervising their district’s superintendent.
The democratic potential for participatory engagement through democratically
elected school boards has never been fully realized, in that the asymmetries of
power have led to the exclusion of many groups made marginal by inequality. The
community control movements of the 1960s and 1970s were efforts to make school
boards live up to their democratic ideal. The eradication of elected school boards,
often replaced with politically appointed governing boards, evinces that opportuni-
ties for participatory decision-making are becoming attenuated.
As Usdan (2010) observed, school boards are often “the only entities that pro-
vide continuous institutional leadership through times of constant change and
administrative churn” (p. 9). Whether elected or appointed, their most important
feature, arguably, is representing the concerns and desires of their constituencies,
their communities, and the public good. The democratic representation once pro-
vided by locally elected schools boards has diminished as multipurpose govern-
ment actors, such as mayors, governors, and state legislators, have assumed greater
authority over education policy generally and urban school district governance in
particular (Gold, Henig, & Simon, 2011; Henig, 2013; Wong, 2007). Growing con-
cerns exist over the extent to which local community knowledge, perspectives, and
90 SCHOOL DISTRICT GOVERNANCE AND LEADERSHIP

interests are making their way into the education policy arena as nongovernmental
actors have shifted education policy priorities while limiting authentic community
input and democratic participation (Sampson & Horsford, 2017). This shift has im-
portant implications for school leaders at every level but particularly those district-
or systems-level leaders who must work to implement the policy goals articulated
by their school boards while also yielding considerable power in terms of staffing
decisions, curricular decisions, family and community engagement efforts, govern-
ment and public relations, and resource distribution.
This chapter focuses on education policy and politics at the local school and
district levels in response and relation to the new governance structures established
at the state level as described in Chapter 3. It also explores the implications for educa-
tion leaders who work as principals, superintendents, and members of their respec-
tive leadership teams on this shifting landscape. We begin with an overview of school
governance regimes (Scott et al., 2017; Shipps, 2012), their characteristics, and their
respective influence on education policy and reform at the school and district levels.
We then explore the impact of such various regimes on the daily professional lives of
education professionals amid the restructuring of school districts and the evolution
from “government” to “governance” in the education policy process (Scott et al.,
2017). This chapter concludes with some discussion of the future (or end) of school
districts as we know them and how a return to participatory democracy and shared
governance is essential to protecting America’s schools and the public good.

NEW GOVERNANCE REGIMES AND THE RESTRUCTURING

OF SCHOOL DISTRICTS

Education reformers are restructuring the governance and leadership of urban

school systems in profound ways. Beyond the adoption of market-based educa-
tional policies we discussed in previous chapters, education reform and advocacy
organizations are actively reshaping how school districts and state educational
agencies function in a number of school districts throughout the U.S., and lessons
from these school districts are being mobilized to shift schooling in other school
districts, and in some cases, other countries like Liberia, which used lessons from
the governance and school choice reforms in New Orleans to outsource its entire
education system to for-profit provider, Bridge Academies.
In 2017, donors to the Los Angeles Unified School District (LAUSD) school
board elections made it the most expensive school board race in U.S. history.
Donors interested in expanding charter schools included foundations, advocacy or-
ganizations, and wealthy individuals like former New York City Mayor Michael
Bloomberg. The next biggest source of funding came from teachers unions. The
March 2017 school board primary race involved three seats. Together, charter school
advocates together spent about $5.4 million to support their favored candidates. The
teachers union United Teachers of Los Angeles, in contrast, spent $1.6 million,
around $1 million of which supported the candidacy of board president, and charter
school skeptic, Steve Zimmer, who ultimately lost his seat (Favot, 2017).
 SCHOOL DISTRICT GOVERNANCE AND LEADERSHIP 91

Meanwhile, an intermediary organization founded by the Broad Foundation,

Great Public Schools Now, is dedicated to expanding charter schools in LAUSD,
with an early goal of converting half of the schools in Los Angeles into charters
softened to indicate a goal to increase the number of “quality” schools, traditional
public and charter (Great Public Schools Now, 2016). In this case, philanthropy,
advocacy, teachers unions, and market-based reforms intersect in ways that stand
to alter governance practices but also to shift the schooling contexts, and the nature
of teaching and leadership, for millions of children. For example, one of the grow-
ing concerns across urban school districts being targeted with so-called “Portfolio
Management Model” restructuring efforts is the extent to which districts can sus-
tain themselves fiscally.
In her 2012 study of former New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg
and Chancellor Joel Klein’s governing approach to education reform and its
impact on city principals, Shipps described four ideal regimes of governance
observed in education policy and politics, which serve as a useful typology for
framing and reframing the various governance approaches to education reform
at the district or systems level. Her typology includes the Administrative Re-
gime, Professional Regime, Market Regime, and Empowerment Regime, which
are ideal types only with none existing entirely as described. In reality, a single
governance regime is seldom in place in any district, and it is more likely that
professional educators experience a mix of the four different regimes described
as follows (Table 5.1).

Administrative Regime
Throughout most of the 20th century, the Administrative Regime, which was the
dominant governance type for school systems during the Post-WWII years, focused
largely on internal operations and accountability through supervision, bureaucratic
mandates, established norms, credentialing, and a certain level of social trust and
ethos of public service. Although most districts had elected school boards, they
were mostly comprised of White and male members, who were typically business-
men. In the 1950s and 1960s, principals and superintendents were also White, male,
hierarchical, and authoritarian in their leadership (Shakeshaft, 1989). As such, al-
though there was solidarity among educators, the profession did not reflect racial
or gender diversity, much less any desire to include women, people of color, or
women of color within its highest leadership ranks.
Nevertheless, as Weick (1976) and Meyer and Rowan (2006) pointed out,
education bureaucracies were often “loosely coupled systems” in which teach-
ers were often able to achieve some level of autonomy behind the classroom
door. Supervision was not continuous as it is currently under market and test-
ing regimes, and principals were often too busy with management tasks to
spend much time with teachers in classrooms. This often provided teachers
with a certain level of autonomy for good or ill, allowing dynamic and creative
teachers to work wonders with children but also neglecting to help struggling
teachers improve.
Table 5.1 School Governance Regimes
Regime Agenda Preferred Essential Actors Essential Resources Essential Relationships
Accountability

Administrative Regime Sustain system by Bureaucratic Teachers, Technical routines, Solidarity among
buffering it from mandates administrators, established norms, educators and
political interference school board legitimate training and skepticism about
credentials, educator external change agents
cohesion
Professional Regime Change the pedagogy Professional Teachers, parents, Educator expertise, Trust between parents
and the culture of discretion administrators, parental commitment, and educators across
schools elected officials intergroup mediation, class, race, and ethnic
pedagogical lines
alternatives, increased
government funding
Empowerment Regime Authorize new Political New decision- New governing Pacts by interest
decision makers responsiveness makers, education institutions. cohesive groups to share
to enable better interest groups, group representation. decision arenas and
unprecedented elected and uncorrupted leadership, decision-making
decisions. appointed officials intergroup mediation,
legitimate governing
alternatives, benefit
redistribution
Market Regimes Restructure schooling Performance of System managers, Engaged market sector,
for efficiency and market initiatives business, elites revised regulations,
accountability (corporate) public investment in
(corporate) or system markets, consumer
or restructure managers, private information, legitimate
schooling for providers, parents market actors,
competition (entrepreneurial) performance incentives
and choice (corporate) or private
(entrepreneurial) financing for start-ups
(entrepreneurial)
 SCHOOL DISTRICT GOVERNANCE AND LEADERSHIP 93

Professional Regime
The Professional Regime, which shares the Administrative Regime’s characteristics
in terms of essential actors (i.e. teachers, administrators, school board members,
etc.) and buffering the system from political interference and some bureaucratic
mandates, assumes a very different agenda, given its focus on changing the ped-
agogy and culture of schools. This governance type emerged during the 1970s as
teachers and principals began to take more control over instruction and their own
professional growth and development. By the late 1970s and early 1980s, studies of
schools as workplaces portrayed a professional culture in schools where teachers,
who were yet overwhelmingly White and female, had little say over their profes-
sional development and worked within a culture of isolation in which norms of
collegiality were rare (Lieberman & Miller, 1984; Little, 1982). Yet, over time, the
Professional Regime would begin to grant educators professional discretion over
school-based decisions, such as hiring decisions, creating and sustaining leadership
teams and professional learning communities, and leveraging their knowledge and
expertise as education professionals. These features, however, would later become
co-opted by the Market Regime.
During this time period, a line of education research, known as effective schools
research, cast effective principals as heroic figures, creating effective schools by pro-
viding strong management, instructional leadership, and an orderly climate condu-
cive to learning (Edmonds, 1979). While its portrait of effective principals reinforced
a hierarchical view of administration, it was notable that they were expected to be
instructional leaders. Previously, male principals taught briefly, moving quickly
from the classroom to the principal’s office or moving from being an athletic coach
to being a principal. As more women began to move into the principalship in the
1980s, they had a deeper understanding of instruction and classroom culture. In
some ways, this denoted a return to the original concept of principal teacher.
Overall, the effective schools research had a strong and generally positive influ-
ence on schools in the 1980s. It is one of the rare cases in which education research
had a direct influence on practice. Many practices that we take for granted today
were initiated by this research. These included notions like instructional leader-
ship, parent involvement, a clear school mission, high expectations for all students,
and frequent monitoring of student progress (Purkey & Smith, 1983). Yet, while it
shifted the emphasis for principals from management to instructional leadership, it
also reinforced the school hierarchy, as principals were viewed as top-down change
agents.
Many reforms of the 1980s and 1990s introduced many reforms that were
focused on building shared leadership. Schools introduced professional learning
communities and leadership teams that sometimes included community members.
Whole school restructuring models showed great promise, including The Coalition
of Essential Schools, Accelerated Schools, and Comer Schools, which introduced
many innovations that we take for granted today, such as having a teacher teach a
math/science or Language arts/social studies block in high school so that they can
get to know students better (Meier, 1995). They also were pioneers in creating
94 SCHOOL DISTRICT GOVERNANCE AND LEADERSHIP

forms of authentic assessment. While charter schools were originally touted as in-
cubators of teacher-led innovation, they have been disappointing in this regard in
comparison with these innovative whole school models, which unfortunately, with
the advent of high-stakes accountability systems, have been difficult to sustain.
According to Shipps (2012),

a Professional Regime relies on classroom educators whose expertise in teach-

ing and learning is at the center of decision-making and governance. Its form of
accountability relies primarily on professional discretion, constrained by norms
of professional practice and influenced by pedagogical values.
(p. 4)

While never fully realized, the Professional Regime remains a powerful counter-
point to both the Administrative and Market Regimes. Sadly, the cultural conflict
and disconnects that exist between a mostly White, middle-class, female teaching
force and increasingly nonwhite student population, undermine the possibilities of
a Professional Regime that might not recognize, much less value, culturally relevant
and responsive pedagogies as a guide for leadership practice.

Market Regime
Market Regimes are committed to “restructuring schooling” through market- and
performance-based initiatives that seek to improve efficiency and accountability
while expanding choice and competition. The essential actors are not teachers, school
leaders, or education professionals but rather “systems managers,” private donors,
venture philanthropists, and business elites who prioritize performance incentives
over pedagogy and private financing over democratic participation. According to
Shipps’s (2012) typology, Market Regimes consist of three variations: (a) corporate,
(b) entrepreneurial, and (c) diverse provider (also referred to as portfolio districts).
The first is the corporate variation, which borrows notions of statistical control of
product quality from the corporate sector. The premise is that corporate practices
of standardized evaluation, curriculum, and services and incentivist policies like
pay-for-performance will lead to greater efficiency and accountability. What makes
this approach different from the previous Administrative Regime (also a product
of corporate influence in the early 20th century) is that control is exercised at a
distance through outcomes measures as opposed to an internal supervisory model.
Control is also exercised through what some call concertive control by shifting “the
locus of control from management to the workers themselves, who collaborate to
develop the means of their own control” (Barker, 1993, p. 411), typically within
narrowly defined limits. The use of outcomes measures also provides indicators
consumers can use to choose schools, which brings us to the entrepreneurial vari-
ation of the Market Regime.
Entrepreneurialism, which emphasizes competition and client choice, creates
conditions in which everyone is either a consumer or a marketer. Schools become
autonomous businesses competing for (and selecting or rejecting) clients, which
 SCHOOL DISTRICT GOVERNANCE AND LEADERSHIP 95

principals competing with each other for students and teachers. The public school
system is viewed as a monopoly and the system is privatized as private vendors
(many for-profit) compete for public money. Markets are also employed as ac-
countability systems under the assumption that, like businesses, those that fail to
attract sufficient clients should be closed.
Most school districts, including New York City, have developed a combination
of corporate and entrepreneurial strategies called Diverse Provider Regimes, sometimes
referred to as “portfolio districts.” As Shipps (2012) noted, this regime “combines the
standardized outcomes and internal competition of the Corporate Market Regime
with an increased supply of schools and client choice adopted from Entrepreneur-
ial Market Regimes” (p. 7). In this way, districts hope to get the benefits of both
regimes, but principals often get mixed and sometimes contradictory accountability
messages, which ultimately undermine education equality through the misappropri-
ation of precious time, professional talent, and limited financial resources.
In the case of New Orleans, Hurricane Katrina provided the perfect policy win-
dow for the Market Regime that sought to take over New Orleans Public Schools
after devastation ravaged the city and displaced many of its residents, and thus,
the school district’s students, teachers, administrators, and support staff. Similarly,
albeit due to largely economic forces, cities like Chicago, Philadelphia, Washington,
D.C., Detroit, and Denver would follow suit implementing similar regimes despite
facing a great deal of resistance from local community organizations, education
advocates, teachers unions, and parent organizers and activists.

Empowerment Regime
Finally, the Empowerment Regime is one that is responsive to particular interest
groups or organized communities. These might be parent or neighborhood or-
ganizations seeking community control or social movement unions, such as the
Chicago Teachers Union. There are many interest groups today that present them-
selves as grassroots advocacy organizations but are actually promoting a Market
Regime. Therefore, an Empowerment Regime has to distinguish between grass-
roots organizations and largely corporate funded and typically anti-union advocacy
groups, often referred to as “astroturf ” or “grasstops” organizations. This can also
be a problem with community organizations and unions as well as it is not always
clear who represents the community or, in the case of unions, the rank-and-file
membership. There is also increasing evidence of a neoliberal ideological turn in
many grassroots organizations who no longer hold faith in the power of govern-
ment to enact institutional change (Fisher, 2009).
Sometimes, responsiveness within an Empowerment Regime may be to low-
income parents in gentrifying communities, or finding ways to engage them in au-
thentic forms of participation in school decision-making. Sometimes, it involves
taking an asset rather than deficit view of parents and communities and seeing them
as experts on their own children (Gonzalez, Moll, & Amanti, 2005; Green, 2015;
Valenzuela, 2016). Empowering regimes are rare, but as we will see in our discussion
of democracy in Chapter 7, it remains an ideal that is sometimes partially achieved.
96 SCHOOL DISTRICT GOVERNANCE AND LEADERSHIP

PUTTING THE PUBLIC BACK IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS: FROM

MARKETS TO COMMUNITY

Although Market Regimes remain dominant in school systems promoting policies

like high-stakes accountability, school choice, and pay-for-performance, depending
on context, other regimes may emerge or prevail. For instance, in many rural school
districts an Administrative Regime may still be dominant, in part because, unlike ur-
ban settings in which there are many schooling choices, rural districts often only have
a handful of schools. This is also true in many affluent suburbs, where homeowners
have chosen to buy a home there, in part because of the political stability and perceived
“quality” of the public schools, which is often connected to the percentage of White
and Asian children enrolled (Wells & Holme, 2005). Despite their dominance, Mar-
ket Regimes have been no more effective or successful at improving public schools or
school systems. In fact, this governance type in which schools are viewed as business
start-ups is a problematic metaphor, given the fact that in the U.S., one out of every
five start-up businesses fails in its first year of operation, and half of them do not sur-
vive the first five years. From an institutional perspective (Meyer & Rowan, 2006),
one might argue that educators have adopted these principals because they enhance
the status of educators—better to be called a CEO than a district superintendent.
This does not explain, however, how the status of the public sector has be-
come so degraded. Although advocates for privatization, like U.S. Education Secre-
tary Betsy DeVos, refer deprecatingly to America’s public schools as “government
schools,” those who continue to diminish the role of public institutions and power
of public schools fail to understand that in a democracy, government serves as the
expression of the public will. The goal for many of those who promote New Public
Management is the demise of teachers’ unions. Those reformers who are profit-
driven have the same endgame. The subtext of much criticism of public education
is that unionized adults are looking out for themselves at the expense of our chil-
dren. They are also viewed as having “gold-plated” pensions that are bankrupting
district and state budgets. In some ways, teachers’ unions deserve this criticism as
they have historically adopted an industrial model with a focus on bread-and-butter
issues alone. Many have been slow to oppose New Public Management reforms,
and few have built alliances with communities.
The teachers’ strike in Chicago during the summer of 2012 demonstrated how
a union that views itself as a social movement allied with low-income communities
of color can go on strike and have their local communities support them (Uetricht,
2014). Teachers in Chicago transcended bread-and-butter issues to frame them-
selves as a social movement union, spending years building alliances with com-
munity organizations. While they focused on specific reforms, they framed their
opposition more broadly as resistance to managerial and neoliberal reforms that
were deprofessionalizing teachers and closing public schools in low-income com-
munities of color. Ayers, Laua, and Ayers (2018) provide a point by point response
to what they call myths about teachers’ unions.
In spite of the social and educational policies that make equitable schooling
more difficult, such as increased privatization of public schooling, gentrification
 SCHOOL DISTRICT GOVERNANCE AND LEADERSHIP 97

and displacement of low-income families, increasing social inequality, and a fraying

social safety net for families, school leaders are in a position to make a difference for
their students and families and even engage in advocacy for broader policy and so-
cial change. The daily work of an elementary school principal in Tucson, Arizona,
will look very different from that of an assistant principal of a high school in rural
West Virginia or the chancellor of New York City Public Schools, not because of
their job descriptions but, rather, because of the unique community knowledge,
assets, resources, and power structure that exist within their particular leadership
context. Similarly, the demands of a superintendent leading a large, culturally di-
verse, urban school district in a fast-growing region in the West might vary greatly
from that of the CEO of a mayoral-controlled charter district in the South. Regard-
less of personal, organizational, and occupational contexts (Roegman, 2016), we
argue here that democratic participation and shared governance at the local level,
while difficult work, are essential to creating high-quality public schools that not
only meet the educational and academic needs of students but also serve as pillars
of the community—whereby the school is the community, and the community is
the school.

DEMOCRATIC PARTICIPATION AND SHARED GOVERNANCE

While most of these early reforms were aimed at increasing organizational commu-
nication, building professional capacity, and sometimes just wanting the appear-
ance of inclusion, some did have more democratic intentions. This was particularly
true of those that attempted to break down school community barriers by including
parents in school decision-making. Studies of these attempts have highlighted the
resistance, mostly by principals, to democratic participation even when supported
by district leadership. Researchers have documented the many ways participation
can be subverted even when diverse groups are brought to the table (Malen &
Ogawa, 1988).
In 1988, Betty Malen and Rodney Ogawa studied shared governance arrange-
ments in schools in Salt Lake City that were set up with near-ideal conditions.
All relevant stakeholders were included and given broad jurisdiction, policymaking
authority, parity protections, and training provisions. Existing literature at the time
suggested that such conditions should enable teachers and parents to wield signifi-
cant influence on significant issues. However, Malen and Ogawa (1988) found the
following:

First, although the site councils are authorized policymakers, they function
as ancillary advisors and pro forma endorsers. Second, teachers and parents are
granted parity, but principals and professionals controlled the partnerships.
Third, although teachers and parents have access to decision-making arenas,
their inclusion has maintained, not altered, decision-making relationships typ-
ically and traditionally found in schools.
(p. 2)
98 SCHOOL DISTRICT GOVERNANCE AND LEADERSHIP

According to their findings, this lack of parent and teacher influence was the result
of the following arrangements: principals ultimately controlled knowledge and re-
sources in the school, defended administrative “turf,” and viewed the councils as
“channels for dispensing information, moderating criticisms, and garnering sup-
port, not as arenas for redefining roles, sharing power, and making policy” (Malen
and Ogawa, 1988, p. 259). Teachers did not challenge administrative authority be-
cause they feared social and professional sanctions, or else, as was the case for many
issues, they shared a common professional perspective with the administration.
Parents tended to lack “insider” information and familiarity and were un-
clear on the parameters of their power. They also shared many characteristics, and
thus interests, with the teachers and principals (i.e. middle-class, Caucasian, and
well-educated). Furthermore, council agendas were generally controlled by princi-
pals (even though the councils were chaired by parents) and confined to safe issues.
Institutional norms of propriety and civility kept principals, teachers, and parents
on traditional “turf” and cast disagreements as personal affronts, thus restricting
discussion, suppressing conflict, and confining discussions to noncontroversial
matters. Finally, because district oversight of site council regulations and proce-
dures was minimal, they were often disregarded. Thus, the micropolitics of partic-
ipation is such that even when participation is carefully orchestrated, most often,
power and influence remain in the same hands.
Given that these councils did not seem to shift power relations, researchers
wondered what political utility these councils may have had. For instance, there was
considerable evidence that principals found the councils useful as a way to pres-
ent themselves as democratic while essentially retaining decision-making power in
their hands (Malen, 1994). As the notion of democratic participation is increasingly
linked to choice in an educational marketplace, this need for legitimation through
the illusion of participation may be diminishing. As Rowan (2006) suggests, gaining
legitimacy in the current institutional environment increasingly requires behaving
more like a Chief Executive Officer than a democratic leader.
At the district level, with the popularity of mayoral control, authentic citizen
input in many urban districts has diminished, replaced by market-based school
choice. School-based decision-making and inquiry are even more circumscribed
and co-opted by scripted curricula, high-stakes testing, and test data (Anderson,
2017; Halverson, Grigg, Prichett, & Thomas, 2005). An education industry has
grown exponentially, leading to greater commodification and commercialization of
professional development (Anderson & Herr, 2011; Burch, 2009). The term “em-
powerment” is still used to describe teacher and principal autonomy, even while
their decisions are driven by testing pressures; they are blamed for school and soci-
etal failures; and salaries, benefits, and pensions of public workers are under attack.
Reformers also deploy empowerment to frame choice and privatization
policies, but in their framing, power is given to parents to choose schools where
the educators and leaders will be forced by market demand to be more responsive
to their educational needs and preferences or risk going out of “business” (Scott,
2013). What may be needed is a framework with a stance toward participation and
democracy capable of recognizing the difference between authentic and inauthentic
 SCHOOL DISTRICT GOVERNANCE AND LEADERSHIP 99

forms of participation (Anderson, 1998) as well as whether school choice policies

represent a new form of democracy; an example of depoliticization; or, as the title
of Carl Boggs’s (2000) book exclaims, The End of Politics.

THE MICROPOLITICS OF DEMOCRATIC LEADERSHIP

While choice in a marketplace may be replacing the concept of political democ-

racy in many districts, there is another kind of politics that operates at the school
level, which is sometimes referred to as micropolitics. Micropolitics can range from
which teacher manages to get the biggest classroom to the microaggressions expe-
rienced by students, teachers, or administrators of color. In Chapter 2, we critiqued
rational approaches to policy and leadership that failed to address the complexities
of life in schools. Part of that complexity is that schools are political places in which
parents, students, teachers, and administrators struggle constantly over resources,
status, and ideological commitments. Ball (1987) and Blase and Anderson (1995)
initiated a line of research that focused on school micropolitics or the behind-the-
scenes negotiations that occurred within schools. Their goal was to identify ap-
proaches to leadership that might result in more democratic school cultures.
Every teacher and every politically savvy parent knows how “political” schools
can be. Principals are in a unique position, since they have to mediate policies and
politics horizontally (school-community relations) and vertically (from central of-
fice to teachers and students and vice versa). In urban schools, located in gentrify-
ing neighborhoods, principals often are caught between pressures to recruit gentry
parents and the resources they bring to the school, but in the process, they may
be displacing low-income families of color (Posey-Maddox, 2014). Almost every
decision a principal makes will privilege someone over someone else, which make
these decisions highly political and come with ethical considerations. Based on the
findings of research on school micropolitics, Blase and Anderson (1995) developed
a leadership matrix based on two continua of leadership (see Figure 5.1). We pres-
ent this matrix to demonstrate how school politics can be managed in ways that
encourage communication, diplomacy, empathy, and collaboration that result in
decision-making that includes a broader swath of stakeholders.
The horizontal continuum ranges from open to closed leadership styles. An
open leadership style is characterized by a willingness to share power. Respondents
also reported that open principals were more honest, communicative, participa-
tory, and collegial than closed principals. A closed leadership style is characterized by
an unwillingness to share power. Respondents reported that closed principals were
less accessible, less supportive, more defensive, more egocentric, and seemed more
insecure than open leaders. The vertical continuum ranged from a transactional
to transformative orientation toward the goals and direction of the organization.
These terms were borrowed from James McGregor Burns’s (1982) classic book
Leadership. Transactional leadership is based on exchange relationships among lead-
ers and followers. In return for effort, productivity, and loyalty, leaders offer tan-
gible and intangible rewards to followers. This orientation can be pursued with an
100 SCHOOL DISTRICT GOVERNANCE AND LEADERSHIP

transformative

adversarial leadership empowering leadership

closed open

authoritarian leadership facilitative leadership

transactional
Figure 5.1 Micropolitical Leadership Matrix

open or closed style but tends to create a relatively static environment that seldom
disrupts the status quo.
On the other hand, transformative leadership is oriented toward bringing
about fundamental change, the object of which is the raising of the consciousness
of leader and follower alike around end values of the organization. Transformative
leadership tends to be dynamic as it challenges certain aspects of the status quo, and
can also be done with an open or closed style.
In his study of school micropolitics, Blase (1991) found that more closed, control-
oriented principals created an inauthentic culture in which teachers, students,
and parents felt a need to be deceptive and manipulative to get what they needed.
Since authentic communication was difficult if not impossible, behind-the-scenes
maneuvering became commonplace, and distrust permeated the school. On the
other hand, open principals, who were out and about in the school, maintain-
ing constant and authentic communication with teachers, students, and parents,
created and fostered a culture of trust and diplomacy. It wasn’t that differences,
disagreements, and conflict didn’t exist but rather that it was handled openly and
authentically. This allowed teachers to make their case in open forums rather than
behind-the-back maneuvering or face-to-face dissimulation. While teachers re-
ported winning some battles and losing others, they appreciated the sense of trust,
fairness, and authenticity that reigned.
Many leaders who fostered authentic, open schools were what Burns referred to
as transactional leaders. They maintained a pleasant environment in which authentic
communication was possible, but as transactional leaders, they often saw themselves
as largely maintaining the status quo. While their schools were more pleasant and
productive places to work, this was often bought at the expense of confronting eq-
uity issues which are often potentially divisive and messy. Such leaders may prefer to
maintain good relations over taking on what they may view as risky and controversial
issues. Research on educational leadership is only beginning to understand the im-
portance of risk-taking for effective leadership (Brunner, 1999; Ylimaki, 2005).
On the transformative end of our matrix are leaders who view themselves as
advocates. Some advocate from a more closed, go-it-alone, style and others with a
more inclusive and open style. The former often engage in advocacy outside the
school, being very effective at dealing with the politics of the larger school environ-
ment. They are often able to garner resources for the school and they often have
 SCHOOL DISTRICT GOVERNANCE AND LEADERSHIP 101

charismatic personalities, building a loyal following among a sector of the teach-

ing staff and even of the school community. They are transformative—rather than
merely authoritarian—in the sense that they want the school to transcend its cur-
rent ways of thinking and operating, and often surround themselves with a cadre of
talented teachers. While such leaders can be powerful advocates for children, they
are often advocates for their own careers as well, and their ambitions and political
networks often gain them promotions. When they leave a school, their cadre of
loyal followers often leaves with them. Because such leaders tend to create depend-
ent, rather than empowered, followers, those teachers who remain often struggle to
defend gains they have made when a new leader takes over.
On the other hand, there were principals who were able to create the caring and
authentic culture characteristic of open leadership while also empowering teachers,
students, and parents to engage together in participatory and transformative leader-
ship. These leaders called attention to inequities and organized multiple stakehold-
ers to engage together in confronting the conditions leading to such inequities. For
instance, if a disproportionate number of Black males were being referred to special
education, it is less likely that the transactional leaders—whether open or closed in
their leadership style—would confront—or perhaps even notice—the issue. This
is because school communities tend to find an equilibrium in which the status quo
seems to be more or less working for everyone. There may be constituencies for
whom the status quo is not working well, but such constituencies may have little
power or access to information.
Transformational leaders—both adversarial ones and empowering ones—are
more likely to be willing to upset the status quo to challenge inequities. However,
the control-oriented adversarial leader advocates in an authoritarian and paternal-
istic manner that often fails to garner the support and empowerment of multiple
constituencies. Empowering leaders, on the other hand, can more easily achieve
goals of social justice while also achieving greater inclusiveness and more authentic
and democratic relations. Of course, as with all two-by-two matrices, these quad-
rants represent ideal types and, as contingency (Fiedler, 1958) and situational lead-
ership (Hersey & Blanchard, 1969) theories have taught us, leaders may need to
exhibit different orientations at different stages of one’s tenure, for different issues,
or for different staffs or schools.

B O X 5 .1 G E R T R U D E A Y E R S , P R I N C I P A L , H A R L E M , N E W Y O R K

There have always been empowering principals, who have taken risks for the
sake of their children and families. We briefly highlight a principal from the
1930s in Harlem, a period of race riots and extreme poverty and joblessness.
Gertrude Ayer battled for years to become a principal in New York City at a
time in which African American principals were extremely rare. Finally, in 1935,
during the depression, Ayer became the first African American woman principal
102 SCHOOL DISTRICT GOVERNANCE AND LEADERSHIP

in the city. Shortly after she was appointed to P.S. 24, Harlem erupted into a riot
as a reaction to police brutality, high unemployment, and racial discrimination.
According to Johnson (2017),

In the community-wide hearings about the causes of the riot that followed,
Ayer testified about the lack of resources in Harlem schools and her efforts
at P.S. 24 to gain the trust of parents and provide additional relief services
for unemployed families.
(p. 188)

Previous to becoming a teacher and principal, Ayers was a community organ-

izer and activist for what was then called racial justice and community uplift.
She worked on labor issues with the New York City Urban League and did an
extensive survey of the working conditions of African American women that
documented inequalities experienced by African American women who worked
in factories and shops and discriminatory practices in labor unions.
As an educator, she was best known for promoting progressive, project-
based curricula and intercultural education. To reduce Black/White racial
tensions, she organized intercultural education workshops that were known as
“neighborhood home festivals” or “groups conversation method” and were led
by Black and White educators together. “When Ayer noted friction between the
West Indian and African American students, a social studies unit was planned
on life in the Caribbean” (Johnson, 2017, p. 188). She also organized trips for
parents and children to local cultural institutions, such as the Schomberg
Center for Negro Literature where writers such as Langston Hughes and
Richard Wright gave readings.

Like Gertrude Ayers, school leaders today are faced with a complex policy
context that pulls them in multiple directions, and this varies from state to state
and district to district. For instance, in some districts—especially urban districts—
leaders are contending with gentrification, school choice, competition from charter
schools, police in schools, colocation, and vendors trying to sell them services. In
other districts, especially suburban and rural districts, these issues are not much of
a factor. However, issues of inequality and discrimination, whether by race, social
class, gender, sexual orientation, or disability, are present in all districts, and school
leaders must decide whether they will allow such inequalities to persist or whether
they will take on the difficult and stressful task of working to change these condi-
tions (Theoharis, 2007). Even if they decide to do the right thing, re-culturing a
school or district is not easy and requires change strategies that are inclusive and the
skills and disposition to be successful.
 SCHOOL DISTRICT GOVERNANCE AND LEADERSHIP 103

CONCLUSION

Democratic theory would insist in broad inclusion in significant decisions and struc-
tures of participation that understand and account for power differentials (Anderson,
1998). But as we have seen, this is often difficult to achieve in practice, given per-
ceived and real conflicts of interest and micropolitical maneuvering. For example,
in her 2013 case study of an urban school district in California, Trujillo found that
board members and the superintendent “restricted deliberative decision making and
failed to provide opportunities for local participation in matters of instruction and
personnel” (p. 352). To be sure, a transformative and open leadership style can lead
to more democratic and empowering schools but requires great political skill and a
strong commitment to democracy and advocacy for children and education.
Although reformers often talk of giving principals and superintendents more
autonomy, they have probably never had less, given the recent policy churn at the
federal level that has mandated everything from high-stakes testing to teacher eval-
uation policies. Although, as we noted in the previous chapter, the federal gov-
ernment has no formal policymaking power, it achieves this power through the
relatively small but still significant money it holds over states and school districts.
Superintendents in some areas have gained autonomy. In districts where there is
mayoral control of schools, superintendents or chancellors do not have to answer
to school boards. Some districts have given principals more autonomy over budgets
and hiring, but they are still highly constrained in the issues that matter most, such as
teacher evaluation and curriculum, both being largely driven by high-stakes testing.
School choice policies have also turned many principals into entrepreneurs, forced
to divert precious time from instructional leadership to marketing their schools.
For school and district leaders, this dramatically shifting policy landscape places
increasing demands on both the everyday administration of schools and the negoti-
ation of competing political values, ideologies, and interests. In fact, they will likely
find themselves buffeted by macro-level politics such as new policy demands, new
market logics, and a for-profit education industry that is relentless in seeking dis-
trict contracts and other public resources. Although principals and superintendents
serve in positions of leadership, contextual factors, institutionalized practices, and
external forces often constrain their autonomy and authority.
After more than fifteen years of local school systems responding to and com-
plying with No Child Left Behind’s unfunded, top-down accountability mandates,
ESSA’s devolution of federal authority to states and districts, in theory and perhaps
in practice, grants greater decision-making power to the central office administra-
tors, namely the school superintendent. In fact, ESSA’s emphasis on local control
presents a unique opportunity for superintendents, particularly those leading large
urban districts serving large proportions or high-needs students, greater autonomy
and flexibility as it relates to defining and measuring school improvement and suc-
cess. With this increased authority over accountability, however, comes additional
pressure associated with the already complicated task of demonstrating improve-
ment across a variety of measures in ways that satisfy a complex and diverse collec-
tion of community stakeholders. “Amidst the highly politicized environments of
104 SCHOOL DISTRICT GOVERNANCE AND LEADERSHIP

big city school districts, superintendents must serve as collaborators, visionaries,

good communicators, and agents of change” (CGSC, p. 1).
School and district leaders must have an understanding of and appreciation for
how macro-level social, political, and economic trends shape their environments
and the ways in which school local community demographics and histories are
critical to their work and its effectiveness. Additionally, microlevel politics at the
school and district organization levels presents another set of considerations that
must be negotiated by the education leader. Whether urban, suburban, or rural, it
is well established that context is important to leadership with evidence suggesting
that leaders who are effective in one particular setting might not enjoy that same
success in different environments. Nevertheless, the field of education leadership
has focused primarily on what school leaders can and must do to improve schools
by increasing academic achievement in safe environments. The urgency of meeting
the demands of high-stakes testing and accountability standards has, in many ways,
left less time for the study and examination of the how context shapes and informs
the everyday experiences and actions of education leaders. In Chapter 7, we further
examine the politics of shared governance and democratic participation as an op-
portunity to restore balance to education policy in an era of inequality.

END-OF-CHAPTER QUESTIONS
1. How has the governance and leadership of school districts changed over the last
twenty years? What larger social, economic, and/or political forces contributed
to this shift?
2. What are the documented challenges associated with democratic participation
and shared governance approaches to leadership and reform? How might pol-
icymakers and education leaders address such challenges while creating spaces
to engage community knowledge and perspectives?
3. In terms of school micropolitics, where would you locate yourself on the mic-
ropolitical leadership matrix? Please explain why.
4. Identify and describe the key characteristics or features of each regime that you
find to be necessary or essential components for effective governance.
5. Which governing regime do you anticipate will dominate the education policy
landscape over the next twenty years and why?

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CHAPTER 6

Philanthropy, Donors, and Private

Influence over Public Education
The Case of Charter Schools

Formal public policy actors and agencies shape the politics of education policy
though a variety of mechanisms including law, funding, regulations, oversight,
sanctions, and rewards. It is common for studies of the politics of education to in-
clude examinations of the role of school boards, superintendents, state departments
of education, or state legislatures. Yet in an era of rising inequality, a growing body
of evidence demonstrates that the role of the private sector, which includes donors,
corporations, nongovernmental intermediary organizations, interest groups, foun-
dations, and philanthropies, is in need of scrutiny and greater understanding. Pri-
vate funding and actors are becoming powerful in shaping state and local education
policies, particularly around issues such as school choice, teacher evaluation, and
technology in education. Education leaders need to know about the contemporary
and historical contexts for these actors.
This chapter considers the emergence of the philanthropic and donor sectors
in education policy in an era of growing inequality, and the implications of that
influence for equity and democratic participation. We explore the rise and influ-
ence of venture philanthropy and wealthy donors as key players in the education
policy arena and the implications of their influence on education policy, leader-
ship, and the public good (Blodget, 2006). In order to engage the tensions around
philanthropy and its shifting role in shaping educational policy, we draw from
critical policy analysis. Of special interest are disparate distributions of power, and
stakeholders from all layers of the socioeconomic strata and from different racial/
ethnic groups negotiate power arrangements to secure desired policy outcomes.
We draw from research on think tanks, advocacy groups, and philanthropies in
shaping public policy (Ferrare & Reynolds, 2016; Ferrare & Setari, 2018; Hartney,
2004; Nelson, Drown, Muir, & Meter, 2001; Reckhow, 2013; Rich, 2004; Roelofs,
2003; Smith, 1991; Tompkins-Stange, 2016), and the literatures generated by
108 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE

philanthropic organizations (e.g. mission statements, financial reports, federal tax

filings, and evaluation studies of the projects they fund) to map the institutional
landscape of these private policy actors and the organizations they fund. We fo-
cus especially on the intersection of philanthropy and charter schools, a domain in
which policy influence and sector growth are emblematic of the broader trend of
private-public policymaking in U.S. education.

PHILANTHROPY IN U.S. EDUCATION: HISTORICAL CONTEXT

Donor and philanthropic influence on education has a history that is entwined with
the founding of public schooling. In the U.S., the early 20th century marked the
emergence of what we have come to consider traditional foundations a century later.
These include the Carnegie Corporation of New York (1911), The Rockefeller
Foundation (1913), and the Ford Foundation (1936), funded by wealthy industrial-
ists and their families that sought to contribute to the public good, while also ben-
efiting from tax shelters on their giving. For these wealthy, well-connected elites,
foundations served as an effective means for influencing public policy in the areas
of health, the arts, education and social welfare, and without the intrusion of gov-
ernment regulation or oversight. They have seeded the development of treasured
public institutions, such as universities, libraries, hospitals, and symphonies, as well
as a range of services for the poor and underserved. The public tends to view founda-
tions primarily as humanitarian or charitable institutions, and as a result, it dedicates
less attention to the political nature of their economic activities, goals, and interests.
Philanthropy has a complex history in U.S. educational policy and race.
Wealthy, mostly White male philanthropists funded and helped shape the educa-
tion of Black children and communities (Anderson, 1988; Tyack, 1974; Watkins,
2001) shortly after Emancipation and the backlash against the Freedman’s Bureau’s
efforts to respond to the needs of formerly enslaved African Americans. Under
Reconstruction, or “America’s first attempt at interracial democracy”, philanthro-
pies played a key role in establishing Black schools in the U.S. South. Whether pro-
viding schooling opportunities where they didn’t before exist or limiting access to
quality education to the privileged, they were also instrumental in the development
of normal schools that eventually became Historically Black Colleges and Univer-
sities (HBCUs). While these schools gave African Americans access to schooling
that public officials were loath to provide, the education many of these schools af-
forded them often reinforced prevailing views of their social status and future role
in American society.
The Julius Rosenwald Fund began supporting Jim Crow institutions but
later advocated for racial integration. Inspired by the autobiography of Booker
T. Washington, Rosenwald supported Tuskegee University’s industrial education
program. His funding also helped to construct over 5,000 public schools, shops,
and teachers’ homes for African Americans. While these institutions provided
opportunities for students that otherwise might not have existed, the schools were
also organized around specific notions of what African Americans’ social status
 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE 109

should be, usually aligned with training students for industrial and service work, and
acceptance of a permanent second-class citizenship (Anderson, 1988). The schools’
pedagogical approaches reflected mainstream, if problematic, thinking about what
African Americans needed and their capacity to meet those needs. The tradition of
wealthy, mostly White men funding and shaping education for African Americans
and others continued into the Progressive Era and persists in the current reform era,
where a substantial number of students in foundation-supported charter schools
are poor, African American, and Latinx. And within this subset of the sector, many
of these schools embrace a “no excuses” pedagogy that involves strict discipline
and submissive behavioral norms, expectations for parental involvement, back-to-
basics curricula, and longer school days and years (Sanders, Stovall, & White, 2018).
During this period, a network of philanthropists, university researchers, and
businessmen worked to restructure schooling systems across the U.S. Wishing to
align school administration to business management styles but also to wrest schools
from corrupt ward politics that often siphoned schooling resources to curry polit-
ical favors, these reformers were also informed by notions of what the particular
roles and the appropriate social status were for children of different racial and soci-
oeconomic backgrounds (Tyack, 1974). Drawing from the new “science” of intel-
ligence testing, they redesigned curricula to better reflect limited notions of what
they thought some students could learn and do, assuming that their visions were
the ones that were most appropriate for public policy (Tyack, 1974, p. 130).
Even as these early reformers imagined schooling for African American chil-
dren, however, Black leaders and educators were articulating and forming school-
ing imbued with rich thinking about the pedagogical needs and desires of Black
children and their communities. Scholars like W.E.B. DuBois and educators like
Nannie Helen Burroughs and Anna Julia Cooper (Bair, 2008; Johnson, 2009), for
example, advocated for and developed schools for Black children and adolescents
based on a belief in those students’ inherent intelligence and intellectual potential.
The resulting private schools provided a rigorous liberal arts curriculum infused
with Black history. These efforts, and the long-standing knowledge base of Black
educators teaching in segregated schools, were largely ignored by reformers who
ascribed to deficit models of African American children and their communities
(Bair, 2008; Walker, 1996, 2009).
While African American leaders and educators articulated distinct and rich vi-
sions for schooling, their voices were not included in the imaginings of the elite
administrative progressives who remade schooling to map onto principles of sci-
entific efficiency and business management. The work of the philanthropic sector
and the administrative progressive education leaders gave birth to the schooling
systems that contemporary reformers often wish to dismantle with school choice
and privatization reforms. From these Rosenwald-funded, industrial schools in
Southern states to the centralized, tracked school systems favored by administra-
tive progressives in the early 20th century, there have been long-standing political
tensions between the efforts of elites to provide better schooling and community
preferences—with elites usually prevailing over other less powerful stakeholders
(Anderson, 1988; Tyack, 1974; Tyack & Cuban, 1995).
110 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE

Early American foundations were not the staid, ideological-neutral, and risk-
averse depictions that often characterize critiques of how they function in con-
temporary contexts (Hess, 2005). Rather, foundations like the Laura Spelman
Rockefeller Memorial set up endowments specifically to advance particular areas
of social science research—often dealing with racial issues. In the mid-20th cen-
tury, the Ford Foundation provided support for organizations pushing for civil
rights; later, it was an important funder of Black and Ethnic studies programs at
universities around the country. Philanthropic approaches to race have often been
complex, revealing seemingly contradictory thinking about racial progress, while
also leaving broader social class and racial hierarchies relatively unchallenged.
Yet contradictions and complexities about giving strategies in relation to social
and educational equities abound. The Carnegie Corporation funded and commis-
sioned Myrdal’s An American Dilemma, which questioned the U.S. racial caste sys-
tem even as it funded programs to maintain South Africa’s racial hierarchy through
research on the U.S. South’s experience managing Blacks (Stanfield, 1985). Stan-
field maintains that the giving of these foundations had patrimonial roots that can-
not be separated from their effects. In addition, foundation giving reflected the
values and beliefs of elites about the need for social change. Moreover, there has
been historically an intertwined social network of elites who moved within the
philanthropic world. According to Stanfield, this tightly networked sector results in
common giving philosophies, norms, and approaches.
As a result of operational abuses, some philanthropists used their foundations
for partisan advocacy, tax-avoidance, and self-dealing; for example, the U.S. Con-
gress passed four major pieces of legislation between 1913 and 1969 to regulate them
(McIlnay, 1998). Modern philanthropies operate under a federal policy framework
established through this legislation: in exchange for tax-exempt status, foundations
submit annual federal tax filings, and foundations must spend at least 5% of the past
year’s assets, which can include reasonable administrative costs. Foundations’ invest-
ment revenues are also subject to a 1%–2% excise tax (Frumkin, 1998). Tax-exempt
organizations cannot be partisan, nor can they engage in self-dealing. Besides these
measures, there is little public input into how philanthropies disburse their monies
(Roelofs, 2003). Despite federal requirements on annual giving, many foundations
still have large endowments that go unspent. In addition, federal requirements do
not preclude foundations from participating in advocacy activities, though traditional
foundations have not tended to operate as policy advocates in the contemporary era.
They have instead funded organizations engaged in advocacy and social change work.

A NEW ERA OF PHILANTHROPY

Critiques of traditional philanthropy range from them being too powerful and im-
mune from public input to being too accessible to organizations seeking to realize
social change. For example, many observers have credited foundations with provid-
ing resources to a number of social causes, such as being instrumental in advancing
the Civil Rights Movement, while some critics have worried about foundations’
ability to use private wealth to craft public policy with little or no public debate
 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE 111

(Lagemann, 1992). And critics of traditional philanthropic involvement in public

education have argued that foundations have not yielded wide-scale results for all
of their investments. Moreover, these critics argue that traditional philanthropies
have become too beholden to teachers unions, university schools of education, and
other professional associations that lobby public officials to leverage risk-taking in
education reform, and as a result, foundations end up supporting the status quo
(Hess, 2005). In part, due to this frustration about the slow pace of change, donors
and philanthropies have come to see themselves as change agents:

Growing numbers of entrepreneurs and heirs to accumulated wealth indicate

a desire to make their own choices, rather than defer to professionals, and to
develop ‘their own private visions of the public good.’ With the extraordinary
opportunities open to millionaires to invest in the public good and with public
spending increasingly restricted to nondiscretionary income transfer programs,
private philanthropy efforts will play an even larger role in shaping innovative
responses to collective needs.
(Minow, 2002, p. 11)

Over the last thirty years, U.S. education has witnessed the rise and influence of
a new era of education philanthropy based on the principles of venture capital-
ism, whereby foundations invest in education reform, management, and advocacy
organizations, funding a new network of nongovernment actors who now wield
increased power over education policy and reform decisions at every level of gov-
ernment. These relatively recently formed foundations, such as the Broad Founda-
tion (1999), the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation (2000), and the Walton Family
Foundation (1987), have exerted significant policy influence in cities, states, and
nationally in Congress and the U.S. Department of Education.
Foundations, while nonpartisan, have ideological bents that map onto their giv-
ing strategies. In many ways, the new cadres of foundations that are pursuing more
aggressive funding programs than traditional foundations currently engage, and
are adopting these approaches from politically conservative foundations that have
been employing such strategies for some time (Covington, 1997; Miller, 2003).
Moreover, newer philanthropies are similar to traditional philanthropies that often
originally began to carry out specific ideological or social policies favored by their
namesake donors. The founders and heads of the foundations tend to share similar
demographic characteristics: White, male, and wealthy, although the foundation
staffs might have more racial and gender diversity (Schnaiberg, 1999).
Two conservative foundations that are exemplars of these strategies are the John
M. Olin Foundation, established in 1953 (and shuttered in 2005), and the Lynde and
Harry Bradley Foundation, originally established in 1942 and renamed and reorgan-
ized in 1985. Olin was responsible for helping to start the several conservative think
tanks, including the American Enterprise Institute, the Heritage Foundation, the
Manhattan Institute, and the Hoover Institution at Stanford University. The Bradley
Foundation has also funded a number of influential researchers, such as Chubb and
Moe, whose 1990 publication, Politics, markets and American schools, continues to influ-
ence school choice scholarship and advocacy. It has also provided millions of dollars
112 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE

Table 6.1 New Philanthropy, New Language

Traditional Philanthropy Venture Philanthropy

Grantor Investor
Grantee Investee
Gift/Grant Investment
Deliverables Social return on investment
Program Venture
Community impact Scalable models; proof points
Grant proposal Theory of change

to legal and advocacy organizations to support the school voucher program in Mil-
waukee. In addition, under the leadership of Michael Joyce, who also worked at the
Olin Foundation, the Bradley Foundation helped establish the Philanthropy Round-
table, which has emerged as a key intellectual network of new philanthropies engaged
in school choice funding and advocacy (Miller, 2003).
Despite the similarities between traditional, conservative, and venture
philanthropies, there are important differences. Table 6.1 presents the way tradi-
tional and new philanthropies differ in their philosophical approaches to funding.
Most distinctive is the utilization of market language for social exchanges. Grants
become investments, programs are ventures, and measures of impact generally
involve the ability to scale up an initiative.
In order to advance charter schools and to grow related market-oriented reforms
like teacher merit pay or school closure and reconstitution, venture philanthropies
will often seek out promising leaders and organizations to fund. In comparison,
traditional philanthropies typically identify broad program areas, and invite applica-
tions for funding. Rather than encouraging unsolicited grant proposals, for example,
new philanthropies target potential social investments. The emergence of venture
philanthropy signals a shift in funding and advocacy paradigms that is reflected in
the language the new foundations use to describe their funding interactions.

VENTURE PHILANTHROPY, INEQUALITY,

AND CHARTER SCHOOLS

These fiscal challenges confronting many U.S. districts are layered upon racial, lin-
guistic, and socioeconomic segregation in the traditional public schools and charter
schools. Schools in the United States are more diverse than at any point in U.S.
history in their overall populations, with students of color comprising the majority
of public school students in many school districts and some states. Nevertheless,
schools are also segregated and stratified by race, poverty, and language. The average
Black or Latinx student attends a school where more than 75% of students are mi-
noritized, and in nearly half of these racially homogenous schools, the poverty rates
 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE 113

are over 80% (Fiel, 2013; Orfield, Frankenberg, Ee, & Kuscera, 2014; Reardon &
Owens, 2014). Because students are learning in segregated learning environments
within and across district boundaries, school choice can exacerbate such inequities
and increase segregation along other dimensions.
Researchers have also grown concerned over the connection between the
educational stratification and the growth of charter schools. Some argue that char-
ter schools are not only deepening racial and linguistic segregation but are also
increasingly notable for financial malfeasance. Some estimates indicate that there
is evidence of $200 million in charter school fraud in 15 states (Green, Baker,
Oluwole, & Meade, 2016). These costs are absorbed by school districts, further
challenging their ability to serve their students well.
When considered against the evidence that some charter schools’ admissions, ex-
pulsion, and discipline policies result in high numbers of students unable to access the
promise of charter schools, or unable to stay there once accepted, this financial issue be-
comes even more important to examine (Jabbar, 2015; Jennings, 2010; Vasquez Heilig,
Williams, McNeil, & Lee, 2011). Parents navigate these dynamics in ways that can ad-
vantage some children over others within the same community (Pattillo, 2015; Pattillo,
Delale-O’Connor, & Butts, 2014). Those children left behind are often in districts
under threat of state receivership (Holme, Finnigan, & Diem, 2016). As yet, venture
philanthropists giving strategies and organizational missions tend to look favorably on
system disruption through the seeding of new leaders and the growth of new charter
schools. Analysis of investments reveals a consensus that the expansion of charter school
reform, merit pay policies for teachers, or embracing market-oriented approaches to
teaching and learning can redress differential performance on standardized assessments,
improve graduation rates, and encourage college attendance and persistence.
Meanwhile, educational advocacy groups such as Stand for Children,
Democrats for Education Reform (DFER), and Students First have been working
to unseat state and local elected officials who do not support school choice and
other market reforms and to elect policymakers amenable to this policy agenda.
Organizations that are focused on disrupting school systems in order to enact par-
ticular market-based reforms have been particularly active and influential over the
last decade, and their activity has been heavily supported by foundation funding.
For example, representatives from educational advocacy reform organizations share
strategies and successes across their school districts, state systems, and policy areas
of concern (McGuinn, 2012).
The issue of charter schools and their optimal role in U.S. public education has
divided Democrats, as it has nationally. At the national level, DFER, founded by
wealthy hedge fund managers in New York, argues that a primary barrier to equity
is teachers unions and entrenched school leadership:

We believe that reforming broken public school systems cannot be accom-

plished by tinkering at the margins, but rather through bold and revolutionary
leadership. This requires opening up the traditional top-down monopoly of
most school systems and empowering all parents to access great schools for
their children.
114 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE

DFER supports candidates who endorse its educational reform platform, and is
agnostic about party affiliation. DFER’s core issues emphasize test-based account-
ability for mayors, teachers, and school leaders, and the ability of parents to choose
from a range of schools. These include:

1) Policies which stimulate the creation of new, accountable public schools and
which simultaneously close down failing schools; 2) mechanisms that allow par-
ents to select excellent schools for their children, and where education dollars
follow each child to their school; 3) governance structures which hold leaders
responsible, while giving them the tools to effectuate change and empower-
ing mayors to lead urban school districts; 4) policies that allow school princi-
pals and their school communities to select their teams of educators, granting
them flexibility while holding them accountable for student performance; and,
5) national standards and expectations for core subject areas, with flexibility for
states and local districts to determine how best to meet them.

As we discussed in Chapter 3, this policy platform first emanated from conservative,

neoliberal, and libertarian ideals that were hostile to civil rights and state investment
in the public sector. The embrace of these ideals by advocates and organizations
claiming to be progressive and/or liberal has created political tensions and conflict
within and between groups that were historically aligned. The philanthropic sec-
tor has invested in constituency building in support of the DFER policy agenda,
and dozens of state and local organizations have been seeded from this investment.
Teachers unions and some civil rights organizations have found fault with DFER’s
and philanthropic agendas for education policy given their stance on teacher ac-
countability and comparative silence on civil rights issues like school segregation
and disproportionate discipline. In 2012, the Los Angeles County Democrats re-
quested that DFER should cease using “Democrats” in its name because its plat-
form was closely aligned with that of the Republican Party.1
A robust policy and planning network has emerged from the hundreds of
millions of dollars foundations that have invested. This network is comprised of
individual charter schools, management organizations (CMOs), real estate devel-
opment organizations, research units, social and news media, education reform ad-
vocacy organizations (ERAOs), and the alternative teacher and leader preparation
programs introduced in Chapter 3 (Ferrare & Setari, 2016; Scott, 2015). The deep
and broad financing of this network by philanthropic organizations and foundations
cannot be underestimated. For example, many of the same foundations fund char-
ter school networks across several large urban districts with relatively high numbers
of charter schools managed by a CMO (Scott & DiMartino, 2008), namely New
York, New Orleans, Denver, Nashville, Los Angeles, and Philadelphia, and educa-
tion technology companies see charter schools as a prime site in which to pilot and
scale up online and personal learning platforms. In turn, many of the major donors
and philanthropies investing in charter schools and other market-oriented reforms
are located in Silicon Valley and are turning their focus to online learning platforms
(Burch & Good, 2014; Scott, 2009).
 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE 115

The rise of the donor class in shaping educational policy and creating policy
networks also extends beyond the United States, making it important for educa-
tional leaders and policy analysts to understand these global education reform and
advocacy networks (Ball, 2007; Ball & Junemann, 2011). For example, with sup-
port from global foundations and governments, Teach for America’s (TFA’s) global
spin-off, Teach For All, has exported the TFA model to over 40 countries. The
emergence of this recent iteration of philanthropy in the U.S. and abroad is ac-
companied by the growing influence of the donor class, and corporations, on elec-
toral politics, particularly on school board elections, state-level offices, and national
representatives. In this regard, the philanthropic and donor influence over public
education policy mirrors a national trend, heightened by the Supreme Court’s 2010
Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission ruling, which allowed unlimited cor-
porate and union independent expenditures on elections and for political action
committees (PACs) to proliferate on behalf of candidates or issues.
A number of researchers have investigated venture philanthropy in education
(Reckhow, 2013; Tompkins-Stange, 2016). This research has revealed many salient
issues, such as the ideological and institutional landscapes of venture philanthropists,
their specific areas of focus, and some preliminary effects of venture philanthropy in
education (Ball, 2007; Colvin, 2005; Hartney, 2004; Hess, 2005). Other researchers
have documented the unequal financial landscape of school choice advocates and
opponents, finding that school choice advocates enjoy financial advantages even
over well-supported state and national teachers unions (Chi, 2008). In addition,
researchers have examined the connection between foundations and evidence pro-
duction (Scott & Jabbar, 2013, 2014).
Like venture capitalists, venture philanthropies expect aggressive returns on
their investments. They measure such returns not necessarily by profit generated,
however, but by growth in student achievement; expansion of particular educa-
tional sectors, such as educational management organizations or charter schools;
and the growth of constituencies who will place political support on public officials
to redesign school districts as quasi-public portfolio managers (Bulkley, Henig &
Levin, 2010; Greene, 2014; Lake, 2007). While student achievement or growth in
learning outcomes is a goal that many educators share, the strategic focus from
philanthropists is to remake schools and school governance along corporate mod-
els, and issues like democratic participation, civil rights, and selectivity are less of a
concern. Venture philanthropists employ similar investment strategies to venture
capitalists. In the same way that venture capitalists seek out companies in which to
invest and subsequently reap profit, these new philanthropies actively seek out ed-
ucational reforms, as well as those perceived to be innovators participating in such
reforms, for investment (Colby, Smith, & Shelton, 2005).
Through such efforts, philanthropists have provided the financial and advo-
cacy backbone for the expansion and recent resurgence of charter schools. Charter
schools have taken hold in key urban “markets,” largely due to the coordinated
efforts of philanthropists, advocates, researchers, and policymakers (Scott &
DiMartino, 2008). As the charter school movement has expanded, a management
sector has taken a leadership role in starting and operating charter schools much
116 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE

like franchises or networks. Philanthropists have been attracted to a number of

“high-performing” and “no-excuses” charter management organizations whose
models suggest that they are capable bringing their operations to scale, as opposed
to grassroots charter schools, which tend to be locally grown, stand-alone schools,
and by definition, difficult to replicate. A report from the Philanthropy Roundtable
on jump-starting the charter school movement argued,

Clearly, grassroots, “independent” charter schools embody the spirit of the en-
trepreneurial, accessible charter school movement and will remain an impor-
tant force in providing a variety of educational options for our children. But it’s
clear the movement cannot rely entirely on this spontaneous process for the
next generation of schools.
(Public Impact, 2004)

Examples of CMOs that venture philanthropists have funded include Green Dot
Public Schools (a CMO operating primarily in Los Angeles), the KIPP network
(operating across the U.S.), and Uncommon Schools (a CMO operating primarily
in the Northeast). These organizations owe much of their recent growth to the
support of philanthropists, and as a result, the schools they operate enjoy more total
funding than charter schools that function primarily with public funding. Philan-
thropic support, in addition to charter-friendly federal and state educational policies,
has paid off in terms of growth in the number of charter schools; the development
of new CMOs; and, as mentioned, the building of capacity in existing ones as well
as in the development and support of charter school research and advocacy groups,
such as the National Alliance for Public Charter Schools and the Center for Educa-
tion Reform (CER), the shuttered in 2017 Black Alliance for Educational Options,
and the Hispanic Council for Reform and Educational Options (HCREOs). Much
of this growth in the charter school network has taken place after a slowing of the
movement almost ten years ago.
In 2002, for example, sociologist Amy Stuart Wells argued that there were signs
that charter school reform was entering an educational recession since the growth of
new schools appeared to be slowing even as the number of states who had adopted
charter school legislation had grown (Wells, 2002). In 2001, according to the CER,
there were 2,372 charter schools operating, up only 372 schools since 1999. By
2009, charter schools had entered into an educational recovery with laws in 40 states
and the District of Columbia, and according to the roughly 6,000 charter schools in
operation serving just over two million children. By 2018, that number has grown
to laws in 44 states, with over 6% of the total U.S. public schooling population
enrolled in charters. In particular cities charter schools make up the majority of the
public school system, and the majority of these schools are managed by CMOs.
While charter schools constitute a significant percentage of schools in many
cities, including some of the largest school districts in the country and have grown
steadily, data indicate that the overall rate of charter school growth has slowed in
recent years. According to a report from the pro-charter school Center for Rein-
venting Public Education, which was funded by the Silicon Schools Fund,
 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE 117

until 2013, the sector enjoyed a very steady growth rate, with the total num-
ber of charter schools increasing by 6 or 8 percent each year. Since then, the
number has fallen steadily, with the growth rate of new charter schools dipping
below 2 percent in 2016.
(Lake, Cobb, Sharma, & Opalka, 2018)

CPRE recommended passing state legislation that would require school districts to
close and/or consolidate public schools and turn the vacated buildings over to char-
ter school operators in order to meet the demand for facilities that charter school
operators see as key to future growth. In this example, we see a state funder contrib-
uting to an advocacy-oriented, out-of-state think tank, which, in turn, makes rec-
ommendations for state and district level policy changes that could have an impact
on schools around the country if implemented. According to researchers at Arizona
State University, who have tracked the for-profit educational management sector,
as the for-profit MO sector has stagnated, the nonprofit CMO sector has grown
(Molnar, Garcia, Miron, & Berry, 2007). While the Center on Reinventing Public
Education estimated in 2007 that management organizations operated just 9% of
charter schools nationally (National Charter School Research Project, 2007), in
several cities targeted by philanthropists for charter school growth, a clear majority
of charter schools are managed by CMOs, with districts like Los Angeles and Oak-
land experiencing fiscal strain as a result of the loss of students to charter schools
(Scott & DiMartino, 2008).
Philanthropic support has been instrumental to the growth of CMOs in several
important ways. Philanthropies fund the management organizations themselves
but also related entities that support and provide a rationale for their existence.
This includes nonprofit, nonpartisan, 501(c)(3) organizations that include research
centers like the Center for Reinventing Public Education at the University of
Washington, mentioned earlier. It also includes charter school real estate develop-
ment organizations, state charter school associations, and alternative leadership and
teacher preparation programs, such as New Leaders for New Schools and TFA,
from whose alumni CMOs often draw their leaders, executives, and teachers. It is
unlikely that the sector would have grown to its present size without philanthropic
support, although federal legislation, such as No Child Left Behind, Race to the Top,
and the Every Child Succeeds Act, and many states’ policy climates also help to create
a more favorable policy environment for them to pollinate. It also includes media
through sponsored content and social media promotion, and 501(c)(4) organiza-
tions that engage in political advocacy.
Figure 6.1 displays the networked connection of giving, with the financial net-
works as central to the rise of new organizations and leaders, and the stability of
existing organizations favorable to charter school growth.
In a guide to funding school choice produced by the pro-school choice Philan-
thropy Roundtable, Anderson (2004) argued that the most pressing need for donors
is to grow the supply of choice schools. “Some of the biggest difficulties that choice
schools face are not pedagogical but operational: how to find and finance facilities, manage
‘back office’ administrative tasks efficiently, and develop effective leadership” (p. 39).
118 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE

Elections

Education
CMOs & Real
Reform &
Estate
Advocacy
Development
Organizations

Funding
Networks

News and Online

Media State Ballot
Initiatives

Alternative
Teacher &
Leadership
Programs

Figure 6.1 The Policy, Planning, and Funding Network of the Charter School Sector

According to Anderson, there are seven imperatives for “reform-minded funders”:

“fund strategically, be wary of ballot initiatives, help build diverse coalitions, find par-
ent leaders, get political, be prepared to battle in courts, and keep the research and ar-
gument coming” (p. 49). In terms of strategic funding, collaboration with established
choice groups is encouraged. Also encouraged is the sponsorship of efforts that put
parents of color out front instead of “rich, white Republicans” (p. 61).
As mentioned earlier, an important funding strategy of venture philanthropies is
to seek out potential investments that align with their organizational giving philoso-
phy and ideological commitments. Many of the new foundations do not accept grant
proposals, preferring to seek out their own investments in consultation with their
boards of trustees. For example, the Robertson Foundation, a family foundation
formed in 1996, is a supporter of school choice and alternative teacher preparation
programs like TFA. It does not accept applications for funding but rather identifies
the programs that they believe adhere to their tenets. In 2008, its website described
this funding philosophy: “The Robertson Foundation takes a targeted, businesslike,
results-oriented approach that is modeled more closely on private equity investing
than on traditional grantmaking” (http://www.robertsonfoundation.org).
 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE 119

Next, as discussed, venture philanthropies tend to operate as a policy and plan-

ning network, often funding the same organizations, pursuing similar funding and
advocacy strategies, and pursuing the same educational and policy outcomes. Fi-
nally, there appear to be geographic concentrations of venture philanthropic activ-
ity, with New York, California, Texas, and Washington, D.C., at the top of the list
of foundation spending and schooling systems in Los Angeles, Oakland, Denver,
New Orleans, Detroit, Memphis, and Philadelphia also receiving concentrated,
cross-philanthropic, and donor investments.

INDEPENDENT EXPENDITURES AND ELECTORAL POLITICS

Another area for investment from philanthropists and donors is in school board and
state elections and in ballot propositions through the use of independent expendi-
tures. For example, in the 2016 election in California, two ballot initiatives with
significant implications for school funding (Proposition 30, which would levy a tax
on wealthy Californians to fund K-16 education, and Proposition 32, which was
aimed at stopping the California Teacher Association’s ability to use member dues
to engage in political advocacy) were presented to California voters. Many donors
and organizations supportive of charter schools gave heavily to pass Proposition 32.
This measure ultimately failed. At the same time, some prominent donors, such as
Eli Broad, whose Broad Foundation has provided significant investments in charter
management organizations, publicly supported the passage of Proposition 30 while
at the same time invested in its defeat. According to a Los Angeles Times exposé, these
expenditures were not easy to trace and were aimed at defeating Proposition 30 and
passing Proposition 32:

The donors’ money traveled a circuitous path. They contributed to Ameri-

cans for Job Security, a Virginia trade association. This outfit then passed the
money to the Center to Protect Patient Rights in Arizona. The center next sent
$11 million to a Phoenix group, Americans for Responsible Leadership, which
provided it to the Small Business Action Committee. That committee spent
the money on the California campaigns. In another relay, the Center to Protect
Patient Rights provided more than $4 million to the America Future Fund in
Iowa, which passed the money to the California Future Fund for Free Markets,
a campaign committee supporting Proposition 32.
(Blume, Moore, & Smith, 2016)

Independent expenditures through 501(c)(4) advocacy organizations and donors have

also shaped local school board elections, which is a growing trend across the United
States. According to the Federal Election Commission, independent expenditures are
not subject to contribution limits, advocate for a candidate or issue, and are not pro-
vided in coordination with a candidate’s committee or agents.2 Large national donors
have tended to support pro-reform candidates in Denver, Los Angeles, and Louisi-
ana in order to ensure charter school growth (Reckhow, Henig, Jacobsen, & Alter
120 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE

Litt, 2017). For example, spending and outside influence on the 2017 Los Angeles
Unified School District (LAUSD) Board elections resulted in the most expensive
race in history. $6.7 million was spent for three seats prior to the March 7 primary.
In total, nearly $15 million was expended on the school board race, which ultimately
unseated the School Board President Zimmer. Moreover, there were national en-
dorsements of these local candidates. For example, former Secretary of Education
Arne Duncan endorsed charter-friendly candidates Nick Melvoin and Kelly Gonez,
and Senator Bernie Sanders endorsed Steve Zimmer and Imelda Padilla. The Los An-
geles Times reported that charter-affiliated donors spent more than double than teach-
ers unions and other labor groups. Some of these PACs, like the student group LA
Students 4 Change (which spent $1 million on the race), had the appearance of being
student run but was actually affiliated with the California Charter School Association:

The group “LA Students 4 Change” is a pro-charter political action committee

managed by political consultant John Shallman and working in conjunction
with CCSA Advocates. In an interview with Times columnist Steve Lopez,
Shallman explained that his team recruited a group of high school students,
who appeared in flyers and became involved in the campaign. The students
were to be compensated as much as $500 for their help.
(Blume & Poston, 2017)3

Figure 6.2 displays the relationship between nonpartisan 501(c)(3) and partisan
501(c)(4) organizations as a tree with different branches, connected by shared fi-
nancial roots. Increasingly, many nonpartisan organizations have partisan organiza-
tional spin-offs, enabling their policy influence to extend further.

KIPP,
Leadership For
Uncommon
Education
Schools,
Equity
Aspire,
Students Green Dot
First Teach
501(c)(4) For 501(c)(3)
organizations America organizations
50CAN Democrats
for The Broad
Education Academy Go
Reform Public
Schools

Broad Bill and Melinda

Foundation Gates Foundation

Foundations &
NewSchools Walton Family
Donors
Venture Fund Foundation

Figure 6.2 Examples of 501(c)(3) and 501(c)(4) Organizations and Funding Streams
 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE 121

Similarly, in the 2016 Oakland, California school board election, top donors
to pro-charter school candidates included former New York City Mayor Michael
Bloomberg, the TFA PAC Leadership for Education Equity (LEE), Carrie Walton
Penner, PACs sponsored by local nonprofit organizations like GO Public Schools,
and several leaders of charter school management organizations. Statewide elec-
tions in Louisiana, Washington, and Colorado have also received similar donor and
philanthropic investments, raising further questions about how such investment
shapes democratic participation in a variety of political contexts, and how the issue
of charter schools comes to dominate national, state, and local politics. Next, we
offer brief descriptions of the following venture philanthropies: The Broad Educa-
tion Foundation, The Walton Family Foundation, and The NewSchools Venture
Fund (NSVF).

B O X 6 .1 B R I E F D E S C R I P T I O N S O F S E L E C T E D V E N T U R E P H I L A N T H R O P I E S

The Broad Education Foundation: Eli Broad made his fortune in finance and
real estate. He and his wife Edythe started The Broad Education Foundation in
1999. The Broad Foundation funds governance, management, labor relations,
and competition. Since 2001 it has distributed well over $100 million dollars to
help start charter schools in a number of cities, though its central focus is
CMOs in Los Angeles. At the school district level, the Broad Foundation has
been involved with deregulating teacher and leader certification and has
produced a tool kit on school closures (https://failingschools.files.wordpress.
com/2011/01/ school-closure-guide1.pdf) both to save money and to replace
public schools with charter schools. His goal is to have over 50% charter
schools in Los Angeles and has heavily financed school board elections there
to put pro-charter members in office. The foundation has invested in a number
of the fastest-growing CMOs, many of which are located in Los Angeles,
including Green Dot Public Schools and the KIPP network. It has also worked
with other venture philanthropies to concentrate giving, such as the NSVF. The
foundation provided start-up funding for Parent Revolution, the group that
developed the “parent trigger” legislation, designed to convert public schools
into charters. Broad has also given large sums to Education Reform Now, a
pro-charter advocacy organization.
Broad is perhaps best known for his uncertified Broad Foundation
Superintendents Academy, which has been producing graduates since 2002.
The goal of the academy is to teach prospective superintendents (or in Broad
language, Chief Education Officers) free-market, business principals and to
recruit urban superintendents from business and the military. Smith (2008) has
demonstrated that deregulating educational leadership does not attract more
122 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE

talent to education. While the Broad Academy has been able to place many of
its graduates into major urban superintendencies, their effectiveness has been
challenged (Howard & Preisman, 2007). However, they generally implement the
same neoliberal policies: top-down decision-making, school closings and
increase in charter schools, paid outside consultants, sidestepping labor laws
and unions, a focus on the “achievement gap” instead of “equal opportunity.”
The Walton Family Foundation: Sam and Helen Walton of the Walmart
Corporation started the Walton Family Foundation in 1987. Though it funds a
range of issues that includes the environment, the Arkansas and Mississippi
Delta, and northwest Arkansas, K-12 education reform is a key portion of its
funding portfolio. The Foundation has been the largest private funder of K-12
school choice reforms. About its financing of education, the Foundation’s
website says, “The Walton Family Foundation invests in programs that empower
parents to choose the best education for their children” (http://www.walton
familyfoundation.org/educationreform/). Funding initiatives include charter
schools, school choice, school district improvement (which includes account-
ability, transparency of student performance and district finance, and merit pay
for teachers), and Arkansas education. Within each of these areas, the
Foundation targets specific cities, and organizations must serve students
within those cities to be eligible for foundation funding.
The NewSchools Venture Fund (NSVF): Kim Smith Brook Byers and John
Doerr founded the NSVF in 1998. The NSVF gets its revenue from individual
and foundation donors, including the already mentioned Broad Foundation.
Located in California, according to its website, the NSVF is a venture philan-
thropy that “empowers entrepreneurs to transform public education” (http://
www.newschools.org). Those interested in funding are encouraged to submit
not a grant proposal but a business plan that delineates how the proposed
venture will produce measurable outcomes, be scalable, be sustainable, have
entrepreneurial leadership, fit with NSVF’s investment strategy, and benefit
from the NSVF’s investment. The NSVF terms its grantee portfolio, “ventures,”
and it includes both for-profit and nonprofit organizations. Its third fund is
focused on funding CMOs, school support organizations, accountability and
performance tools, and human capital.
The combined efforts of donors and venture philanthropies have produced
significant financial backing for organizations seeking to expand their presence
in urban education reform. It is important to consider this combination of
funding activity in order to appreciate the scale of policy advocacy being
undertaken by the new philanthropy. These data show that it is not just school
choice or charter schools that fall under the purview of philanthropic-sponsored
 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE 123

educational restructuring but also alternative leadership preparation programs,

such as New Leaders for New Schools; choice and charter school advocacy
groups, such as The National Alliance for Public Charter Schools; Parent
Revolution; the HCREOs; CMOs, such as the KIPP network and Green Dot
Public Schools; and organizations geared toward growing CMOs through
investments in infrastructure and parental advocacy, such as the Charter
School Growth Fund and 50CAN.

SYSTEMIC EFFECTS

Research has demonstrated the positioning of venture philanthropies as “policy

patrons” (Tompkins-Stange, 2015) who are contributing to the restructuring of
school systems. While charter school research often focuses on the outcomes of
schools and CMOs, from the perspective of our critical policy analytic frame, we
argue that systemic effects and issues of public sector sustainability must also be
considered. Research from Lafer (2018) demonstrated that the growth of charter
schools, largely propelled with private funding from foundations and donors, is
hurting the ability of school districts to serve the students who remain in their
traditional public schools. Lafer estimated that in Oakland, California, the school
district loses over $50 million annually, amounting to a decrease of $1,500 per stu-
dent. Here, we describe the connection between education policies and venture
philanthropies in New Orleans, New York, and Los Angeles.

New Orleans
The post-2005 Hurricane Katrina educational landscape in New Orleans has been
radically altered. Choice advocates and policymakers saw the disaster as an oppor-
tunity to rethink the delivery of public education and moved to a diverse provider
model, where the majority of public schools are now charter schools managed by
CMOs (Buras, 2011). Post-Katrina (August 2005), the legislature passed Act 35,
which allowed for takeover of New Orleans schools. Prior to the Hurricane, the
School Performance Score for RSD takeover was 60; the legislature changed this
post-Katrina to 87.4 (close to the state average), permitting more schools to enter
into the RSD.
New Orleans teachers were fired after the Hurricane, and the teaching force
has become far younger and more inexperienced, and there are far fewer Black
teachers than before the storm. These policy shifts facilitated the entry and in-
fluence of intermediary organizations to enter the New Orleans schooling “mar-
ket” (DeBray, Scott, Lubienski & Jabbar, 2014) (Nearly 1/3 of all teachers in New
Orleans are either TFA or The New Teacher Project-affiliated). Comparatively,
the teachers union (United Teachers of New Orleans, a local affiliate of the AFT)
has a membership of approximately 1,000 (out of about 3,000 teachers).
124 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE

CMOs active in New Orleans include KIPP, SABIS, University of New

Orleans, Pelican Education Foundation, Broadmoor Charter School Board, New
Beginnings School Foundation, Choice Foundation, and the YMCA. The Broad
and Fisher Foundations, as well as the NSVF, have provided much of the private
support for these reforms. TFA now places record numbers of teachers in New
Orleans schools. Also key in the restructuring of New Orleans and other districts,
then, has been alternative teaching and leadership programs, whose matriculates
staff the new schools. TFA and New Leaders for New Schools, for example, are
instrumental in providing the teachers and principals for these new schools, with
TFA alumni accounting for 65% of the Fisher Foundation Fellows (a program that
prepares leaders to start new KIPP schools) for 2008–2009. In Texas, the Michael
and Susan Dell Foundation, as well as several others, have given KIPP millions of
dollars to expand the network in Houston.

Los Angeles
The LAUSD, the second-largest school district in the United States, has also seen
the number of charter schools within it expand. The LAUSD also has a number of
TFA corps members. CMOs operating in LAUSD include Green Dot, KIPP, the
Inner City Education Foundation, the Alliance of College Ready Public Schools,
Aspire Public Schools, YPI, Bright Star, PUC, Celerity Education Group, Expec-
tations Educational Excellence, Value Schools, and Dialog Foundation. Green Dot
Public Schools have been particularly active in the LAUSD, launching public cam-
paigns to take over long struggling district schools. Starting its operation in 2005,
it runs 20 schools and describes itself as “the leading public schools operator in
Los Angeles, and an important catalyst for education reform, locally and nation-
ally” (http:///www.greendot.org). Philanthropies supporting Green Dot and other
CMOs include the Broad Foundation, NSVF, the Fisher Foundation, and the Bill
and Melinda Gates Foundation.
During the summer of 2015, a leaked proposal written by the Broad Foun-
dation detailing a $490 million plan to expand charter schools to serve half of
LAUSD students emerged to great controversy and concern that such a plan
would bankrupt an already financially strained school district (Favot, 2016;
Janofsky, 2015). The United Teachers of Los Angeles and the LAUSD Board
vociferously opposed the plan (Favot, 2016). The plan to convert a majority of
schools into charter schools evolved and resulted in the creation of a new or-
ganization called Great Public Schools Now (GPSN), whose donors included
the Broad and the Walton Family Foundations. A GSPN mission statement
explained,

This plan is designed to give parents in low-income areas a real choice, real
access for their kids, while preserving and augmenting things that are working
today.
(GPSN, 2016; Tully, 2016)
 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE 125

New York
Finally, in the New York City Department of Education (NYCDOE), under the
leadership of Mayor Bloomberg and Schools Chancellor Joel Klein, charter school
reform found a favorable policy environment. Both men worked successfully to
have the New York state legislature raise the charter school cap in 2007 to 200
schools. The Walton Family Foundation has been a supporter of a number of New
York charter school associations who also lobbied for this increase. Mayor Bill
DiBlasio was first elected in 2013 in what many analysts saw as a partial rebuke
to the Klein/Bloomberg menu of school reforms. His appointment of a career
educator to the Chancellorship of the system, Carmen Farina, was a shift away from
the urban system leadership trend of business leaders and people trained by Broad
Foundation assuming the helm of urban school districts. The 2017 appointment
of Richard Carranza to head the Department of Education furthers this attempt to
center educational expertise over business expertise.
Yet New York City leaders face pressure from the state legislature, governor, and
a robust charter policy-planning network in New York City and national organiza-
tions, particularly those with hubs in New York City. This pro-charter coalition is
led by former New York City Council person and Success Academies founder Eva
Moskowitz to support the growth and support of charter schools in the city, often
through colocation with existing public schools. In 2018 in New York City, there
were 227 charter schools serving 114,000 students (New York Charter Schools
Center, N.D.). CMOs included KIPP, Success Academies, Uncommon Schools,
Achievement First, Beginning with Children, the UFT, and Victory Schools, and
most schools were located in Harlem and Brooklyn. TFA and New Leaders for
New Schools also place teachers and principals in schools within the NYCDOE.
Philanthropies active in funding these organizations include the Broad Foundation,
the Fisher Foundation, and the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation.
There are tens of thousands of students affected by these educational reforms
across the three cities discussed earlier and other cities not mentioned. Research-
ers contest the educational effects of choice, charter, teacher, and leadership pro-
grams on students. And while researchers continue to debate the academic effects
of charter schools and how to best measure them (Lubienski & Lubienski, 2006;
The Charter School Achievement Consensus Panel, 2006), there are also pressing
economic, social, and political tensions that require attention.

VENTURE PHILANTHROPY DEMOCRATIC TENSIONS

Venture philanthropy’s role in advancing charter school policy and advocacy raises
important political, social, and economic tensions. One overarching tension is the
issue of sustainability of philanthropic support for charter school reform, especially
in an economic downturn. It is unclear how long the network of philanthropies
will remain committed to the organizations currently enjoying funding, and with-
out foundation support, many communities where MOs operate the majority of
126 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE

the public schools would be left to figure out how to best proceed. With pressure to
show academic results fairly quickly, and with evidence that many charter schools’
achievement results are on par with or below those of traditional public schools
(Lubienski & Lubienski, 2006), charter schools and CMOs are vulnerable to the
judgment of their donors about whether they are effective.
There are broader economic, political, and social tensions that also require
discussion. These tensions are heightened in an era of growing inequality where
wealth that comes largely from favorable public policies is now directed into mostly
tax-exempt foundations, where trustees and philanthropists directly shape public
policy for the poor, without the public deliberative process that might have been
invoked over school reform policies were that money in the public coffers (Reich,
2005). One estimate holds that in 2006, charitable giving cost the government some
$40 billion in tax revenues (Strom, 2007). This is not to romanticize the tradi-
tional public policymaking process since numerous examples abound of policy-
maker neglect of poor communities, wasteful public expenditures, or inefficient
and ineffective uses of public resources. Where philanthropy-driven public policy
differs, however, it is in the nature of democratic institutions, which incorporate
checks and balances through democratic processes that, when working, can attend
to these issues.
Because charter school reform operates within a politically charged racial land-
scape, the concomitant philanthropic support of charter school expansion raises
important political and social tensions. For example, while school choice advo-
cates often invoke the expansion of school choice and civil rights as synonymous,
traditional civil rights organizations have historically been opponents or neutral
on the issue of choice. Venture philanthropy is playing a central role in restruc-
turing public education against the grain of traditional civil rights policy agendas
but with the encouragement and support of new rights groups—many of which
receive philanthropic funds—and is also a lever for the shift of power within
schooling systems that often accompanies school choice reforms (DeBray-Pelot,
Lubienski, & Scott, 2007).
Evidence indicates that venture philanthropists’ efforts have the attention of
policymakers. A 2006 study that asked policymakers to rank most influential indi-
viduals in educational policy found that Bill Gates was first, before the-then U.S.
Secretary of Education, Margaret Spellings (Swanson & Barlage, 2006). In turn,
because of Gates’s fiscal and policy influence in education, educational historian
Diane Ravitch once opined that he should be regarded as the nation’s true schools’
superintendent (Ravitch, 2006). A decade later, Ravitch would join those concerned
about the effects of philanthropy on public education in her 2016 book, The Death
and Life of the Great American School System: How Testing and Choice Are Undermining
Education.
In addition, reforms and organizations that originate with funding primarily
from the philanthropic world can steadily gain public legitimacy and public support.
For example, TFA began with philanthropic support. It has received significant fed-
eral funding in addition to these donor and philanthropic funds, and is supportive of
the charter school movement, with many TFA teachers starting their careers teaching
 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE 127

in charter schools that have been founded by TFA alumni (Scott, Trujillo, & Rivera,
2016). Finally, in 2008, inspired by charter schools that posted impressive student
achievement gains in California, Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger announced that
29 charter schools would share with selected public schools in $463 million in state
money for school construction and modernization projects.
Amidst policy support for the growth of the charter school reform network,
political and social tensions regarding equity and democracy also emerge. First,
venture philanthropy operates against a historical educational backdrop in which
public and private entities have been limited in redressing educational inequalities
in K-12 public education by broader social and economic inequalities. Next, the or-
ganizations venture philanthropists fund tend to be founded by White men espous-
ing a similar set of ideological and pedagogical approaches to educational reform
for primarily children of color, including the need for a return to the educational
basics, high academic standards, strict discipline, uniforms, longer school days and
academic years, and the use of parental and student contracts to govern expecta-
tions (Scott & DiMartino, 2008). Finally, this contemporary philanthropic world
is networked, and while school choice reforms are a primary focus of funding and
advocacy, a broader set of educational issues, including teacher and principal pay
and certification, student testing, and school district management, are often part of
their overall reform agenda, which, if systematically adopted, promises to radically
restructure schooling for millions of urban students and educational professionals.
Such changes could certainly result in improved schooling for these commu-
nities, especially those that have been most disadvantaged by social and educational
inequalities, and, indeed, many MOs have posted impressive student achievement
on standardized assessment and increased high school graduation rates and entry
into four-year colleges by their graduates. And communities of color have often
been supportive of many of the charter schools started by CMOs and funded by
venture philanthropies, and desperate for the alternatives these schools provide
them, resulting in long waiting lists. Yet judged by alternative measures, the expan-
sion of charter school reform can also restrict community or educator preferences
for quality schooling that do not align with those of the foundations bankrolling
the reform efforts or the school management organization. For example, CMOs
limit student access with admissions procedures but also with the implementation
of discipline and other school-based policies that result in high numbers of stu-
dent attrition once students are enrolled. While the extent to which these practices
take place is hotly contested by researchers and advocates, there is evidence that
some charter schools have disproportionately low enrollments of special educa-
tion students, English Language Learners, and boys, populations generally known
to perform more poorly on standardized assessments. In addition, some CMOs,
such as the KIPP network, have high attrition rates, suggesting that struggling stu-
dents do not find educational havens within those schooling environments (David,
Woodworth, Grant, Lopez-Torkos, & Young, 2006; Educational Policy Institute,
2005; Woodworth, David, Guha, Wang, & Lopez-Torkos, 2008). These enrollment
patterns have the potential to leave traditional public schools to educate a compar-
atively high-needs student population that the newly created schools have deemed
128 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE

unsuitable, and to leave them vulnerable to accountability measures that can result
in their closure.
To the extent that these enrollment issues are widespread across the charter
school sector, judgment of the value of the schools being created requires a broader
framing of the issues beyond test scores to an examination of the social and edu-
cational processes that the test scores reflect (Scott & Villavicencio, 2009). Much
of the philanthropic support for the expansion of CMO-managed charter schools
assumes that these schools are defying the odds, making no excuses for their stu-
dents’ racial and socioeconomic backgrounds, and are paragons of educational suc-
cess (Thernstrom & Thernstrom, 2003; U.S. Department of Education, 2004).
Research on charter schools that partnered with philanthropies or management
organizations makes it clear that there are tensions around democratic participation
within such schools. External organizations, wanting to show the efficacy of their
school design, need to demand of the schools fidelity to their “brand.” Donors, hav-
ing invested in a school or school network, can insist that they have a say in school
policy and can withdraw their support if their wishes are not honored (Ascher
et al., 2001). Because CMOs are dependent on venture philanthropist’s support,
they can overpromise achievement results in their quest for financial backing, and
foundation reporting requirements can be onerous (National Charter School Re-
search Project, 2007). The need to keep models distinct and intact can preclude
local preferences for addressing the particular educational needs of students and
communities.
Despite tensions around democratic governance, it is clear that the new phi-
lanthropies have the potential to enact positive changes in schooling by infusing
much-needed resources into educational innovations other funders or policymak-
ers might deem too risky. Moreover, it is clear that many urban districts are des-
perate for the kinds of resources and institutional support that philanthropies can
provide, given that they strive to serve student populations that are made up over-
whelmingly or high-poverty students facing enormous social obstacles.

CONCLUSION

While there has been important racial progress since Reconstruction and the Pro-
gressive and Postwar Eras, when early philanthropies emerged, educational inequal-
ity persists. A hallmark of this persistence has been the resegregation of previously
desegregated school systems, particularly in the south where progress on desegre-
gation was reversed beginning in the 1990s when school districts under court order
to desegregate were granted unitary status, and when the courts shift to the right
limited the use of race in efforts to desegregate. In addition, one in six U.S. children
currently lives in poverty, and in several states, the majority of children enrolled in
public school are children of color.
The new philanthropists have amassed wealth though a combination of per-
sonal industry, favorable tax policies, and economic expansion. This wealth has
afforded them the opportunity to leverage educational policy, a power that similarly
 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE 129

interested but less wealthy constituents do not enjoy. Such accumulation of wealth
has not been equitably enjoyed across the socioeconomic landscape. Instead, dur-
ing the 1990s, when many of the new philanthropies were established, the greatest
wealth gap in U.S. history emerged (Shapiro, Greenstein, & Primus, 2001). Simi-
larly, the majority of U.S. corporations have paid no federal income taxes for much
of the same time period, allowing corporations to amass unprecedented profits, and
for executives to enjoy record compensation packages (Shapiro et al., 2001; United
States Government Accountability Office, 2008). In the midst of upward wealth
concentration, a wealth gap has emerged that has important implications for the
educational opportunities of such children, since poverty is associated with signif-
icant social impediments to adequate health, safety, nutrition, and early childhood
development.
Researchers have also grown concerned over the connection between edu-
cational stratification and the growth of charter schools, given hyper-segregation
within the sector. Some argue that charter schools are not only deepening racial
and linguistic segregation but also increasingly notable for financial malfeasance.
Researchers estimate that there is evidence of $200 million in charter school fraud
in 15 states (Green et al., 2016). These costs are absorbed by school districts, further
challenging their ability to serve their students well. When considered against the
evidence that some charter schools’ admissions, expulsion, and discipline policies
result in high numbers of students unable to access charter schools because of se-
lective admission, or remain due to policies that lead to attrition, this financial issue
becomes even more important to examine (Jabbar, 2015; Jennings, 2010; Vasquez
Heilig et al., 2011). In addition, the exercise of choice by middle-class parents can
advantage their children over less well-off families within the same catchment area
(Pattillo, 2015; Pattillo et al., 2014). Those children left behind are often in districts
under threat of state receivership, or districts with high rates of school closures in
Black and Latinx neighborhoods (Holme et al., 2016; Scott & Holme, 2016).
This historical level of wealth inequality contributes to and intensifies already
existing racial and socioeconomic inequalities in schooling and society. For exam-
ple, many schools engage in individual fundraising through their Parent-Teacher
Associations, and the ability to generate significant revenue through these mech-
anisms is directly related to socioeconomic and racial/ethnic segregation within
and across school districts. An analysis of such fundraising processes in the San
Francisco Unified School district found that schools with the lowest percentages
of students receiving free and reduced priced lunch raised the most funds, with
one school raising an additional $1,500 per child (Smith, 2014). Philanthropy and
donors have helped to provide resources for new education organizations and to
school districts, and funders increasingly link fiscal support to the expansion of
school choice policies. Meanwhile, there is growing evidence that the expansion
of school choice without strong, enforced equity regulations leads to greater segre-
gation and inequality (Smith, 2015).
The terrain for the politics of education policy has undergone significant
transformation in this era of inequality. One hallmark of this transformation
is the increased role being occupied by interest groups beyond the traditional
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educational organizations such as unions and professional associations working

as a coalition to shape state policies. Funded by a rise of venture philanthropies,
individual donors, and independent expenditures to advocacy organizations, po-
litical candidates, and ballot initiatives, this governance context has shifted to one
in which education advocacy and reform organizations play much more power-
ful roles in shaping state, school district, and county educational policy than any
time in the state’s history (Scott, 2009; Zeichner & Peña-Sandoval, 2015). While
advocacy organizations and interest groups work to influence a range of issues
related to education policy and practice, a focus on the education reform and ad-
vocacy sector in relation to charter school reform and market-based policies offers
particular insights into understanding the politics of education (Ferrare & Setari,
2016; Manna & Moffitt, 2014).
Venture philanthropy and its role in school choice advocacy is political because
it challenges long-held notions about the allocation of power within school sys-
tems, especially the role of parents, teachers, and school and school district leaders.
It calls for a rethinking of leaders as managers, and parents as customers and con-
sumers. It also demands a reimagining of the role philanthropies can play in policy
formation and in the lives of poor children of color. Finally, it distills the notion of
where educational expertise rests, away from schools of education within universi-
ties and the teachers and leaders they prepare and toward alternative structures that
draw on nontraditional educational reformers, many of whom come from business,
law, or advocacy. These shifts in philosophy and practice pose significant changes
for the way minoritized and poor students are educated.
There are research, policy, and practical actions that can help ease some of the
political tensions that venture philanthropy presents, and that can also help to facil-
itate democratic and excellent educational reforms. For example, the emergence of
venture philanthropy reminds educational policy researchers that they must exam-
ine policymaking outside of formal governmental arenas and build theoretical and
conceptual models that attend to this dynamic arena. It also suggests that policy-
makers need to be more aware of philanthropic and advocacy activities in advancing
school choice and should develop and enforce existing regulatory procedures to
ensure that the public interest is protected. If CMO-run charter schools prove to be
more effective, important questions about how they achieve their results must be
answered so that traditional public schools can learn and benefit from their educa-
tional and management innovations. Finally, educational practitioners and parents
must be empowered to make informed decisions about from which organizations
they will accept funding or with whom they will collaborate.
Given the policy impact venture philanthropy is having on public education,
education leaders must consider the political and philosophical implications of their
influence. Much closer scrutiny is also needed in regard to the policy advocacy in
which philanthropies engage to assure that private funding does not simply advance
private agendas, but, rather, visions for public education are co-constructed with
education leaders, teachers, parents, and communities. In addition, leaders should
attend to the tensions around democracy, civic engagement, power, and equity
when fostering partnerships with philanthropies or organizations funded by them
 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE 131

(Reich, 2005). Especially needed is informed, ethical, and engaged leadership that
foregrounds critical understandings of race and inequality and how private interests
might further exacerbate such patterns.

QUESTIONS FOR LEADERSHIP, POLICY, AND PRACTICE

This chapter raises questions and implications for education leadership, policy, and
practice. Given the current state of deep economic, racial, ethnic, and linguistic
inequalities, the relationship between policy influence and wealth needs greater
scrutiny as education policy making becomes increasingly privatized (Anderson &
Donchik, 2016). There is a strong role for school districts and democratically
elected school boards to hold charters and contractors accountable for access and
equity. There is an accompanying need to understand that some donor efforts are
geared toward radically reshaping governance through the eradication of elected
school boards and to contend with the implications of such efforts for democratic
participation, which has long been an issue for many poor families and families
of color. And donor investments leading to privatization in predominantly Black
communities in the United States and internationally must be examined in terms
of the racial politics and power asymmetries involved in wealthy investment and
policy formation for people of color (Chaney & Myers, 2017).
School boards, school districts, and school leaders can strengthen school dis-
trict/state agencies’ oversight on finance, equity, and enrollments in charter schools.
In particular, there is a strong need to invest in transparent research on charter
schools that considers issues of equity, democracy, and systemic sustainability.
Such research must be accessible and legible for multiple audiences in order to help
school board members, parents, and citizens utilize the evidence that is generated.
Many foundations that are invested in growing the charter school sector are also in-
vesting heavily in research on these efforts. Such funding often shapes the research
produced, and more public investment in research and evaluation could serve to
mitigate any mistrust that might ensue from advocacy-funded research, whether
it is from foundations and donors or labor unions. In democratizing the research
evidence, there is a parallel need to better understand the networks propelling these
initiatives for parents and community members, to whom funding networks are
often opaque.
There are at least four areas where implications and questions are especially
abundant.

1. Sustainability: While policymakers, especially state legislators, play an impor-

tant role in legalizing public-private hybrid schooling, the new school manag-
ers rely especially heavily upon philanthropy to advance their organizations.
It is unclear how long philanthropists will support this sector, and how much
money they will be willing to contribute in the future. It is also unclear how
the agendas of the philanthropists influence teaching and learning since schools
are dependent upon their money for survival. From a broader perspective, the
132 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE

influx on private money could decrease the pressure on state legislatures to

fund schools adequately, which raises concerns for traditional public schools
that do not have access to private funding. In other words, the philanthropy
could diminish the viability of other public schools—even unwittingly.
2. Democracy: A second issue needing closer examination is the relationship be-
tween the new school managers and our broader democracy and democratic pro-
cesses. While the ways in which the public is able to engage in traditional public
educational governance are clearly flawed, there exists at least an expectation that
public officials respond and involve the public in decision-making. The private
sector, from which many of the new school managers come, possesses no such
mandate. For example, with virtually no public deliberation and debate, the new
school managers and their supporters have drastically expanded school choice pol-
icy. The restructuring of the public schools in New Orleans is a key example of
this. Ultimately, researchers and theorists must query whether the public sphere
expands or constricts in relation to the growth of this new schooling sector.
3. Community: An original goal of charter school advocates was to encourage lo-
cal, grassroots organizations and teachers to start schools that would meet the
needs of the students and families within a given community. How does the
community-based school survive and flourish amidst market-driven schools and
advocates? Another aspect of community that must be further explored is what
happens to parental and community voices within schools managed by CMOs.
4. Equity: Although the current policy framework tends to define equity in terms
of outputs—performance on standardized tests, under the new school manag-
ers, we must consider the issue of educational inputs. Do EMO- and CMO-
run schools have fewer, similar, or greater resources than traditional public
schools? Within the EMO/CMO sector, is there stratification? Another aspect
of equity is who has access to the schools and how admissions and discipline
policies work on the ground. Are all students accepted, and are disciplinary
sanctions meted out fairly? Is there due process for students? These broader
equity considerations tend to get lost in the politically charged debates over the
meaning of the most recent achievement study.
5. Diversity: A final issue requiring further exploration is that of student and com-
munity diversity. A key under-examined area is the way in which many CMOs
brand and market themselves as service providers to Black and Latino students.
Since CMOs are founding the schools, in many ways, they require that the
school’s racial compositions be homogenous since their marketing and brand-
ing present the companies as such. In this regard, the relationship between seg-
regated schools and the new school managers needs examination. In addition,
more attention is needed as to how curricula about race, gender, and other
multicultural issues are implemented within the schools, if at all needed.

Education leaders do complex work leading schools and systems that require them
to be aware of and conversant in federal, state, and local policy directives, regula-
tions, and procedures. Yet the rise of venture philanthropy and its role in shaping
public policy presents a new area of terrain for school and system leaders. Education
 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE 133

reform and advocacy organizations, funded by philanthropy, are putting pressure

on school boards, local schools, and school districts to increase the number of char-
ter schools in their districts, to adopt blended learning platforms using technology
from for-profit firms, and to close schools to make way for these approaches to
schooling. This chapter helps to make visible the private sector actors working to
shape public education policy, and raises important, unanswered questions about
equity, transparency, democracy, and inequality that school leaders must navigate.
We close this chapter with an example (See Box 6.2) of a superintendent who
challenged his county school board to keep a low-quality virtual charter school out
of the district.

BOX 6. 2 : S U PE R IN T E N D E N T MIK E M AT S U DA , A N A H E IM U NIO N HIG H S C H O O L

DISTRICT

Mike Matsuda is a superintendent who has gained some notoriety for his stand
against a low-quality, for-profit virtual charter school that wanted a contract
with his district. Since 2014 he has been superintendent of Anaheim Union
High School District in Anaheim, CA, a low-income district with a large immi-
grant population in the shadow of Disneyland. He is the son of Japanese-
American parents who were placed in internment camps during World War II.
Because their language and culture were suppressed, Supt. Matsuda has a
deep appreciation for bilingualism and encouraging his students to be active
and engaged citizens. He was named the 2017 Administrator of the Year by the
California Association of Bilingual Education (CABE), and was one of Education
Week’s “Leaders to Learn From” for 2016. (See https://www.youtube.com/
watch?v=a_sX2K8ZLlw)
Usually administrators win awards for raising test scores and coloring
within the lines. Not only is Superintendent Matsuda an outstanding adminis-
trator, he is also a courageous leader who advocates for his students and for
public schools. Aware of the research that shows poor results for virtual charter
schools, he was upset when the Orange County School Board approved the
application of a virtual charter school of questionable quality and ethics.
Epic Charter Schools is an Oklahoma based virtual charter school that
applied to the Anaheim City School District to start a virtual charter school
there. It is an Education Management Organization (EMO) serviced by a
for-profit company, Advanced Academics, which provides the platform and
other services. The Anaheim City School District board rejected Epic’s proposal
but Epic appealed to the Orange County School Board, which conditionally
approved Epic’s proposal despite a scathing 20-page report from its own
charter review team recommending denial.
134 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE

Many superintendents would not have taken on the powerful county board.
Yet Superintendent Matsuda felt it necessary to stand up for his values and
confront the board. What’s more, his district, along with Anaheim’s elementary
school district filed a lawsuit against the Orange County Department of
Education (OCDE).
This is part of a statement by Superintendent Matsuda to the Orange
County School Board.
Thank you for agendizing this discussion on EPIC Charter schools. My name
is Michael Matsuda, superintendent of Anaheim Union High School District.
First of all, I would like to make it clear that our Board of Trustees is not
opposed to locally authorized charter schools that are transparent and have local
control accountability measures so parents and stakeholders can be heard.
As we have learned, Epic Charter Schools, a large, online charter network
based in Oklahoma, is currently under investigation for fraud in Oklahoma. I have
reviewed your approval of the EPIC charter school’s appeal from Anaheim
Elementary School District’s denial of the charter application. We have serious
concerns and agree with your staff’s original recommendation to deny their appeal.
We understand the Charter was conditionally approved yet we find no
evidence that those conditions have been satisfied. We have seen a list of
vendors for epic all of whom are from Oklahoma. Does this Board have no
concern about the transfer of taxpayer funds from California to Oklahoma?
Does this board understand the impact on the education of the students of our
districts when 10% of the monies are guaranteed to go to a private entity with
virtually no transparency in place? Does this board understand that the students
of this charter are only guaranteed one time a month face to face meetings with
“teachers”? Can this board guarantee both the high school and elementary
districts that the special education and English learner needs of all students will
be fulfilled as required by law?
Especially in the case of online charter schools, the public needs to ques-
tion how, without proper oversight, students are being supported, not only
academically but also socially and emotionally. National reports on online
charter schools say that they have dramatically lower test scores than tradi-
tional public schools, and that students are not getting adequate social
emotional support.
I urge you to rely upon your excellent staff and their fine work presented to
you that has underscored the false promises that Epic has suggested. By even
the lowest standard no one could suggest Epic is providing an education that
leads to successful college and careers. If Epic is allowed to grow without any
transparency, accountability and oversight, the futures of students, families and
the greater community will be at stake.
 PHILANTHROPY, DONORS, AND PRIVATE INFLUENCE 135

One of the Orange County board members defended Epic, calling

Matsuda’s statement a rant that was “insult inflicting, filled with malice,
misinformation and pure fiction” (Palmer, Oct. 4, 2016). These are the kinds
of attacks that democratic leaders who advocate for the welfare of their
students can anticipate as they work for social justice for their students. But
we have seen the unethical exploitation that has occurred with some for-profit
universities preying on the public’s money (Wong, February 23, 2015).
Disreputable companies are selling their wares in K-12 education with very
little oversight as well, and superintendent are in a position to protect the
public’s interest.

END-OF-CHAPTER QUESTIONS
1. In what ways are venture philanthropies and traditional philanthropies similar?
In what ways are they distinct?
2. How do race, power, and inequality matter in the context of philanthropic sup-
port for public education?
3. What are the democratic possibilities and pitfalls of philanthropic involvement?
4. Why does the context of rising inequality matter for the study of philanthropic
involvement in education policy?
5. What are the possibilities and dilemmas for education leaders: principals,
teacher leaders, and system leaders in a context of deepening inequality, re-
duced state support, and growing philanthropic involvement in schooling?

NOTES
1 http://www.lacdp.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/LACDP-2012-DFER-Cease-Desist-
Final.pdf.
2 https://www.fec.gov/help-candidates-and-committees/making-disbursements-pac/
independent-expenditures-nonconnected-pac/.
3 https://www.latimes.com/local/la-me-edu-school-election-money-20170521-htmlstory.
html.

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CHAPTER 7

The “New Professional”

Teaching and Leading under
New Public Management

In 2008, the New York City Department of Education mandated that every
school have an inquiry group (Robinson, 2010). In theory, anyone who believes
that teachers should engage in collaborative inquiry and be provided with lots of
student data should support this policy, although some might object to its be-
ing mandated. However, when the focus is almost exclusively on testing data or
other quantitative outcomes, such policies can have problematic consequences.
An account by a teacher in New York City is typical of anecdotes widely shared
by teachers who are frustrated at how tightly scaffolded (Talbert, 2012) and proto-
coled (McDonald, 2007) these inquiry groups tend to be. In too many cases, while
claiming to empower teachers and principals with data, they may be, in reality,
deprofessionalizing them.
The teacher reported that the inquiry group in her school observed that their
most pressing problem was that an alarming number of their students were dropping
out between ninth and tenth grade. They decided to select fifteen ninth graders and
do interviews and focus groups with them. Their goal was to better understand the
issues they were facing and to see if some of them might be school- or classroom-
related and therefore amenable to intervention by the school. When the data coach
from the central office attended their next inquiry group meeting, they were told
that they didn’t seem to understand how the inquiry group was supposed to work.
They were to use testing data to identify deficits in their students’ achievement and
to provide remediation. This meant using spreadsheets of student test scores to
identify which skills needed reteaching. The teachers felt that their own approach
to school inquiry was not valued and began to feel that the inquiry groups were not
meant to be about authentic inquiry at all. Rather, they suspected that they were put
in place, at least in part, as a way to get teachers to use the quantitative data that the
district was generating through their contracts with data gathering, warehousing,
142 THE “NEW PROFESSIONAL”

and management firms. They felt that these “inquiry groups” were, in fact, more
about data—and a certain type of data—than any kind of authentic inquiry.
A typical data-driven approach was that of SAM (Scaffolded Apprenticeship
Model) which “engages a team of teachers in systematically using evidence of strug-
gling students’ skill gaps to both design instructional responses and re-design sys-
tems that inhibit their skill development” (Talbert, 2012, p. 5). Of course, “skill
gaps,” in too many cases, refer to spreadsheets of test data, not teacher-generated
formative assessments. Some have argued that this sole attention to individual stu-
dent data encourages a meritocratic view of schooling and undercuts a more com-
plex understanding of sociocultural, socioemotional, and out-of-school factors that
impact children (Berliner, 2009). On a more pragmatic level, teachers complain
that there is too much lag time between the test and when they get the data—data
that, they argue, is often unreliable. Perhaps most importantly, it reduces teaching
and learning to a process of test-remediate, test-remediate, test-remediate which
impoverishes teaching and provides little professional development or judgment
for teachers.
In fairness, some forethought and structure do need to be in place for
successful collaborative inquiry to occur in schools, and good data and evidence
should trump the mere intuition, prejudice, and urban myths that can dominate
discussions among teachers. Moreover, some principals were able to use the
mandated spaces the inquiry groups provided to promote and support authen-
tic inquiry, and many data coaches had a more expansive notion of inquiry
and teaching. And we may be slowly beginning to recognize how high stakes
testing’s neglect of the affective and socioemotional dimension of students’
lives leads to low achievement and dropping out of school (see Lynch, Baker, &
Lyons, 2009). Nevertheless, the issue from the district’s perspective was one of
getting a “buy in” from teachers to use the eighty-million-dollar Achievement
Reporting and Innovation System (ARIS) database that the New York City
Department of Education had purchased (and which is now defunct). While
the new district superintendent brings a somewhat different philosophy regard-
ing the use of data, the damage to the teaching profession and the creation of a
narrow culture of data utilization will be hard to reverse.
We could provide many more examples of how teachers and principals feel that
they are not involved in decisions that affect their professional lives and how their
professional judgment is disrespected in a narrow accountability culture. There
is a growing body of research that documents a major shift over the last three
decades in what it means to be a professional. Our example in Chapter 1 of the
impact of the creation of education markets on school administrators is another
example of how market-based reforms shift professionalism from a public service
to an entrepreneurial ethos. This shift is occurring in both the private and public
sectors, and across the various public sectors. In the rest of this chapter, we will
describe NPM and discuss how it has created a “new professional,” and how shifts
in the political economy and the policy context have led to a tendency toward
deprofessionalization.
 THE “NEW PROFESSIONAL” 143

NEW PUBLIC MANAGEMENT AND THE NEW PROFESSIONAL

Throughout this book, we have argued that public sector professionals, including
teachers and school leaders, are being reshaped by new modalities of governance
that incentivize new practices and conceptions of teaching and leading and how
they think about themselves as professionals. As we have noted elsewhere in this
book, researchers refer to these new modalities with a variety of terms, including
NPM, new managerialism, portfolio management models, neo-Taylorism, or simply the lat-
est iterations of privatization and neoliberalism (Au, 2011; Bulkley, Henig & Levin,
2010; Evetts, 2009; Exworthy & Halford, 1999; Trujillo, 2014).
How the governance of organizations in the public sector has been trans-
formed by networks of “reformers” is the subject of New Public Management, a term
that emerged first in Europe in the 1990s. Of course, public organizations have
always been managed, but in the last four decades, there has been a shift from a
rule-governed, administrative, bureaucratic management regime to a market- and
outcomes-based, corporate management regime borrowed from the business
world.1 The following are the most common ideas and practices transferred from
the corporate sector (Bottery, 1996; Hood, 1991; Ward, 2011):

The introduction of markets and quasi-markets within and between public or-
ganizations (e.g. schools).
Closing low-performing organizations and creating “start-ups” that are often
outside of local democratic control (e.g. charter schools).
An emphasis on explicit standards and measures of performance.
Greater emphasis on outcomes and their measurement using quantitative data.
Greater use of standardization and “scaling up” of practices.
Contracting out public services to vendors in the private sector and the in-
creased use of consulting companies.
The public sector as an emerging profit center.
A trend toward temporary and short-term workers and against unionization.
Administrative decentralization and bounded autonomy.
Greater discipline and parsimony in resource use in a context of austerity and
disinvestment in the public sector.

Most educators have experienced these practices in their daily professional lives.
More veteran educators may remember a time before these practices were domi-
nant. Moreover, not all states or school districts have adopted all of these policies,
although NCLB and Race to the Top forced most states to adopt most of them.
A new generation of new public managers influenced by NPM is reminiscent
of the elite, mostly White male reformers of the early 20th century. Under the
influence of Frederick Taylor and bureaucratic theories popular at the time, they
“professionalized” public school leadership and worked to standardize and differ-
entiate instruction according to scientific and business principles (Tyack, 1974).
Meanwhile, this new iteration of public management also comes from outside of the
education profession, and questions the qualifications and expertise of educational
144 THE “NEW PROFESSIONAL”

professionals who have largely followed the trajectory set by the early reformers.
Namely, traditional school leaders tend to attain certification from higher educa-
tion institutions and acquire experience as classroom teachers and school principals
before assuming positions in school district leadership.
The new policy entrepreneurs and their networks described in previous chap-
ters have promoted NPM. Coming largely from the private and corporate sectors,
these reformers have promoted school choice, privatization, alternative pathways
to certification, anti-unionism, test-based accountability, and small schools for ur-
ban school reform. Given that NPM is less prevalent in well-financed suburban
districts, and that the student demographics of most urban school districts tend to
be majority African American and Latino children from low-income families, this
means that race and social class are central to these reforms.
In the rest of this section, we will draw on our discussion of critical policy anal-
ysis in Chapter 2 to provide an analysis of the ways teaching and leading are be-
ing reengineered by neoliberal policies and NPM practices that have created what
sociologists of the professions call a “new professional” within the public sector.
In order to critically analyze these changes in policy and practice, we will work
across social sectors (education, business, public health, criminal justice, etc.) and
compare policies internationally. Unfortunately, most scholarship in education is
produced within narrow disciplinary and sectorial “silos,” and is country specific in
its research focus, even though neoliberal school reforms are not a global phenom-
ena. And this is not only true in the field of education. Researchers across fields are
so specialized they can’t possibly understand the proverbial elephant but only the
trunk, a leg, or the tail. And yet, what is happening to educators today is also hap-
pening to nurses, social workers, doctors, and police officers.
A “new professionalism” (Evetts, 2009, 2011) is being constructed in all pro-
fessions and in most countries. While it is enacted differently depending on local
contexts, the struggles and dilemmas of the British, Chilean, Australian, Indian, and
U.S. teachers, principals, and professors are strikingly similar, as are the neoliberal
policies these countries have implemented since the 1980s. A few countries have
taken a different route. Finland is probably the best known, and there, the govern-
ment invests heavily in education, teachers are still highly professionalized, they
see teaching as a long-term career, and their professional judgment is respected
(Adamson, Astrand, & Darling-Hammond, 2016; Salhberg, 2015). In Finland,
there are no standardized tests, charter schools, vouchers, or any of the other mar-
ket policies that some countries use instead of following a public investment strat-
egy. And yet, Finland scores among the very top nations in the world in educational
achievement. Some school districts in the U.S. have also eschewed NPM reforms
with good results (Kirp, 2013).
Returning to Max Weber’s classic distinction between instrumental and sub-
stantive rationalities might help us frame this neoliberal shift, at least at the or-
ganizational level. Max Weber focused heavily on the threat that the instrumental
rationality of bureaucracies represented for society. In such organizations, he
argued that people tended to be means to ends, rather than ends in themselves.
Human relations theories were instrumental in their call for treating people well
 THE “NEW PROFESSIONAL” 145

and including them in decisions, not so much because this is the way people should
be treated but, rather, because they tended to be more productive and less likely to
unionize (Carey, 1995).
Weber sought more substantive forms of rationality in which people were ends
in themselves and in which social ends took precedent over individual goals. So-
called post-bureaucratic organizations have changed in form, but, as we will see,
they continue to operate on the basis of instrumental rationality, a tendency exac-
erbated in public organizations as they increasingly operate in a marketized envi-
ronment. In other words, as some scholars have noted, the new forms of market
managerialism that have replaced the old forms have merely created a new “iron
cage” which may turn out to be more restrictive than the old bureaucratic one
(Au, 2011; Barker, 1993; Bourke, Lidstone, & Ryan, 2015; Locke & Spender, 2011;
Samier, 2017).
In “flattened hierarchies,” sometimes referred to as network organizations, py-
ramidal hierarchy is replaced by a horizontal elite core and a mass periphery with
minimal mediation and communication between the two. While new business
models attempt to manage through these more flexible, network organizations,
rather than through bureaucratic hierarchies, there is some evidence that this has
intensified instrumental rationality, not reduced it. These new flexible organiza-
tions are part of a growing neoliberal business model to which some social theo-
rists attribute a growing inauthenticity in organizations (Sennett, 1998). They have
developed greater flexibility to respond to markets, not to meet the human needs
of those who work in them. Fitzgerald and Gunter (2017) call this new flexibility
“Uberization,” which presents itself as part of a sharing economy but is more fo-
cused on centralization and cost reduction, and which results not in sharing but in
shifting the risk of doing business to the worker and the customer (Nurvala, 2015).
Moreover, as market relations become dominant in all aspects of our lives, it
becomes increasingly difficult to think beyond individual competition toward any
sense of a common good. While most people think of neoliberalism as a purely
economic model, it has important social and cultural consequences that we are
only beginning to understand. Richard Sennett (2006) provides perhaps the most
eloquent account of the ways that shifts in political economy have resulted in cul-
tural shifts in our workplaces and in the ways we live our lives. Since the corporate
workplace is increasingly the model for schools, Sennett’s work has important im-
plications for 21st-century school leaders. In his qualitative study of several cor-
porations, Sennett has identified characteristics of work in what he calls the new
capitalism. We will provide a condensed version of his argument here.
Sennett (2006) traces the recent phenomenon of globalization back to the
breakdown in 1973 of the Bretton Woods controls over the global circulation of
money. A 1944 conference held in Bretton Woods, New Hampshire, established
the rules for global commercial and financial relations in the post-World War II
years, including tying national currencies to the gold standard.
In the decades following Bretton Woods, there were large amounts of new capi-
tal seeking short-term investments. By the 1990s, stock prices began to replace profit
as a goal for many businesses, inaugurating what many called the “new economy.”
146 THE “NEW PROFESSIONAL”

Money was made not by owning and producing but by trading and later specula-
tion, better known as financialization. This new speculative and flexible approach to
capital has changed work life and institutional structures, particularly in sectors of
capitalism such as finance, insurance, real estate, media, communications, and high
technology, where short-term exchange replaces long-term relationships. To fit into
this new “fast” capitalism, workers had to give up notions of stability of employment
and become flexible, mobile, workers in a constantly changing global economy.
Furthermore, workers became disposable as capital continuously sought to cut
labor costs though automation and outsourcing. Neoliberal management books of
the 1990s, like the best seller Who Moved My Cheese?, use a childlike allegory about
mice who embrace change to prepare the ideological terrain for the new entrepre-
neurial worker. The lesson is that it is better to see losing one’s job as an opportu-
nity for some better entrepreneurial opportunity that surely lies around the corner.
The new entrepreneurial culture that is promoted in all sectors of society prepares
employees for this new world of unstable employment in the new “risk” society
(Beck, 1992). Along with this new instability of work comes intensification of work
leading to longer work hours and greater levels of stress and anxiety. As unions
were decimated (down from 35% unionized workers in the private sector to under
7% by 2018), wages also stagnated.
However, Sennett (1998) argues that such trends are actually counterproductive
for business, since the cost to business of the resulting short-term employment is
that it reduces employee loyalty and organizational memory. Moreover, with shorter
contracts, project work in teams, and a highly competitive internal work environ-
ment, authentic relationships are less likely to form because of short timelines. This
continuous employee turnover and the tendency to use temporary workers and out-
side consultants weaken institutional knowledge. He argues that these new tenden-
cies are good for the bottom line and stock prices but are not good for the long-term
health of businesses, national productivity, or the building of relationships and per-
sonal character. In fact, he titled one book in his trilogy, The Corrosion of Character: The
Personal Consequences of Work in the New Capitalism (Sennett, 1998). The creation of
authentic human ties cannot easily occur in transient workplaces and communities.
As principals in schools are moved from school to school, and teacher turno-
ver, especially in urban districts, grows, a similar phenomenon occurs in education
(Ronfeldt, Loeb, & Wyckoff, 2013). Flexible organizations in a choice environment
mean that teachers, administrators, and students will be more mobile, leading to less
stability and a weakening of professional expertise and organizational capacity. New,
younger teachers may tolerate increased intensification and standardization of work,
but many experienced teachers with families and a strong professional culture are
tending to change careers or retire early (Stone-Johnson, 2014). This phenomenon
seems even more prevalent in charter schools and with the advent of Teach for
America (Darling-Hammond, 1994: Thomas & Mockler, 2018). The very notion of
teaching or administration as a lifelong career is becoming a thing of the past. In the
long run, this may have devastating effects on the quality of schooling.
Sennett (2006) also identifies other personal deficits associated with this new
neoliberal culture. The first is the demise of the work ethic. Only a fool would
delay gratification in the new flexible workplace. Employees report feeling a sense
 THE “NEW PROFESSIONAL” 147

of personal betrayal as companies trade loyalty to workers for short-term profits.

While some “boot camp” charter schools may harness the idealism of elite twenty-
somethings for a time, eventually, they burn out and move on to more lucrative
careers. Second, this loss of long-term employment, with its associated benefits
and pensions, makes it more difficult for newer generations of employees to create
life narratives. While much Welfare State employment was not exciting, it provided
people with a life narrative in which they could pay a mortgage over thirty years,
look forward to a pension and social security, and plan for vacations. In today’s neo-
liberal, risk society (Beck, 1992), there is an absence of any way to think strategically
about one’s life, one’s sense of purpose, future goals, and economic security.
Flattened hierarchies or network organizations present themselves as more
democratic, but they represent a new concentration of power without centraliza-
tion of authority. According to Sennett (1998),

this absence of authority frees those in control to shift, adapt, reorganize with-
out having to justify themselves or their acts. In other words, it permits the
freedom of the moment, a focus just on the present. Change is the responsible
agent; change is not a person.
(p. 115)

Internal units are created to compete with each other for contracts. Outside con-
sultants are brought in to do the dirty work that management used to do. Senior
management can claim they are taking their cue from the expert consultants who
come in and leave quickly. In this impersonal environment, no relationships are
built, as no one has to take responsibility for decisions. Upper management with
its stronger networks moves more often as new opportunities arise. Personnel re-
cords take the place of humans who are being standardized, so “performance” can
be compared (just as high-stakes testing in education allows students, teachers, and
schools to be compared as a prerequisite for a marketized system). Flexibility to
adjust to changes in the market is gained. This is perhaps good news for stockhold-
ers seeking short-term profits, upper-level executives, and consultancy firms, but
it isn’t clear who else benefits, or what it contributes to the common good. It also,
according to Sennett, makes long-term, authentic relationships less likely.
This new model is being intentionally implemented in school districts across
the country. In New York City, under Mayor Bloomberg, a corporate model was
implemented. Upper-level public administrators contracted out to private compa-
nies or took private sector positions in the burgeoning education services indus-
try. As districts disappeared, principals had a “choice” of vendors and networks.
Public-private partnerships were the vehicle and discourse for this shift in work
culture (Robertson, Verger, Mundy, & Menashy, 2014). This restructuring of the
institutional environment dramatically changed the work culture of schools. While
it is true that some professionals thrive in such environments, most principals in
New York City reported being more beleaguered than empowered (Shipps, 2012).
If Sennett’s analysis of the new corporate culture is any indication, in education,
we can expect to see less employee loyalty, more work stress, and a performance
culture. Table 7.1 provides a brief overview of periods of professionalization.
Table 7.1 Periods of Professionalization
Occupational Professionalism (from within) Organizational Professionalism (from Democratic Professionalism Emerging
1950s to 1980s above) 1990s to present
Principal role Principal as hierarchical and Principal modeled on CEO but Principal facilitator and advocate in
patriarchal, leader lacking executive power (chooses alliance with community
vendors, more control over hiring,
etc.)
Teacher professionalism Teacher professionalization within a Emergence of parallel systems of Professionalization of culturally
public bureaucracy professionalization and deskilling responsive, democratic teachers
Pedagogy Deficit-based, subtractive pedagogy Deficit-based, subtractive and test Asset-based, additive, innovative
for the poor. Some innovation. driven pedagogy. Little innovation. and culturally responsive
pedagogy
Political-economic context Commitment to distributive justice Commitment to unregulated markets Recommitment to distributive
and competition as creating greater justice as well as racial, gender,
prosperity and environmental justice.
View of individual Individual and social welfare Competitive individualism Individual and social
empowerment and human
rights
Pedagogy and race Race neutral, color-blind approaches Race neutral, color-blind approaches Culturally responsive pedagogy
Form of government and Government through bureaucratic Minimal government (deregulation); Government provides needed
governance control (as opposed to governance governance through steering, regulation and hybrid
through steering, influencing, and incentivizing, and partnering governance that emphasizes
partnering) professional and community
control
Approach to accountability/ Public school accountability, Public school accountability, primarily Public school accountability
teacher assessment primarily through mix of through federal government through greater public,
local control (school boards), regulation (NCLB). High-stakes reciprocal, and internal
professional supervision, testing, testing/outcomes-based, school accountability. Peer assistance
and bureaucratic control choice. and review (PAR).
 Public/Private relationship Public-private sectors as separate Public-private partnerships with Some public-nonprofit
realms with different aims and nonprofit and for-profit sectors. collaboration (civil society).
interests. Separation of church and Outsourcing to private sector. Separation of church and state.
state. Breakdown of separation of church
and state.
Local school governance District superintendents, school Mayoral control; district District superintendents, school
boards superintendents as CEOs boards, community organizing
Role of unions Bread-and-butter issues, industrial/ Bread-and-butter issues, industrial/ Social movement unionism,
business model business model alliances with communities
Definition of equity Equity defined as “equal educational Equity defined as “closing the Equity defined as equality
opportunity” with emphasis on achievement gap” with focus on of inputs (resources)
inputs outcomes and outcomes, measured
authentically
School governance Hierarchical “Distributed leadership” limited Shared governance with
to school professionals, largely community engagement
advisory
Student assessment Student assessment mainly teacher Student assessment through high- Student assessment through
centered stakes testing multiple data sources including
quality performance-based
testing and teacher designed
evaluations
Curriculum Curriculum based on textbook Scripted, “evidence-based” curriculum Rich, rigorous, culturally relevant
publishers based on standards, increasingly curriculum based on standards
delivered through technology developed with teacher and
community input
Student discipline Zero tolerance Zero tolerance Positive, restorative discipline
150 THE “NEW PROFESSIONAL”

THE EMERGENCE OF NEW PROFESSIONALISM

Evetts (2011) conceptualizes the shift in professionalism as one from emphasiz-

ing “notions of partnership, collegiality, discretion and trust to increasing levels
of managerialism, bureaucracy, standardization, assessment and performance re-
view” (p. 407). Scholars of new professionalism argue that while there are some
continuities from the “old” professionalism, a shift has occurred as professionals
are increasingly managed and controlled, a tendency that Evetts (2011) refers to as
organizational professionalism or professionalism “from above” (p. 407). She con-
trasts this with occupational professionalism or professionalism “from within” and
documents a shift from professional to managerialist values.
This shift suggests a decrease in professional autonomy and in control over
one’s profession through the exercise of professional judgment and through pro-
fessional associations, and an increase in control by managers in work organiza-
tions. This control is characterized by rational-legal control, standardized work
procedures and practices, and external forms of regulation and accountability
measures, or what some have called governing or steering from a distance (Kickert,
1995; Rose, 1993). Although a discourse of “autonomy” and “empowerment” is
sometimes used to promote current education reforms, such autonomy is ex-
ceedingly constrained and often part of a strategy of tightening up “loosely cou-
pled systems” (Honig & Rainey, 2012; Meyer & Rowan, 2006). In other words, as
we will discuss in more detail later, while in older public bureaucracies, teachers
could create autonomy (for good or ill) by shutting the classroom door, the “post-
bureaucratic” organizations of today are more tightly coupled as high-stakes testing
can breach the door and enter the classroom, in many cases, standardizing how and
what teachers teach.
This shift from occupational to organizational professionalism may seem more
dramatic for some professions, such as physicians, who are increasingly leaving pri-
vate practice for large hospitals and health organizations. Teachers, on the other
hand, have always worked largely within public or private bureaucracies, but the
loosely coupled nature of educational systems buffered teachers from more direct
forms of control, depending chiefly on internal forms of accountability (Carnoy,
Elmore, & Siskin, 2003; DiPaola & Tschannen-Moran, 2005; Weick, 1976). This
meant that while the bureaucracy and principals exerted a certain level of hierarchical
control, teachers exercised a great deal of autonomy in their classrooms. They were
only under direct control when they were being observed by principals or supervi-
sors. Welch (1998) documents parallels between today’s reforms and business-led
reforms of the 19th and early 20th centuries, when forms of efficiency were imposed
on schooling through the imposition of a business ethos. In his analysis of the British
Revised Code of 1860 whose centerpiece was “payment by results,” he documents
the audit culture of the time, which, like today, resulted in creative compliance. Ac-
cording to Welch,

teachers ‘stuffed and almost roasted’ their pupils on test items once the teach-
ers knew that the visit of the inspector was imminent. Other teachers secretly
 THE “NEW PROFESSIONAL” 151

trained their pupils so that when they were asked questions they raised their
right hands if they knew the correct answer but their left if they did not, thus
creating a more favorable impression upon the visiting inspector.
(p. 161)

Nearly 150 years later, such pressures are having a similar effect. The following is
from the Columbus dispatch in Columbus, Ohio, but newspapers across the coun-
try are full of similar stories.

Answer sheets and test booklets arrive at districts in securely taped boxes,
shipped by FedEx or UPS. Packets are shrink-wrapped and are supposed to be
stored in a locked room until test time. But in some districts, teachers got access
last school year. Some made copies. Others shared the questions with students
ahead of time, or gave answers during the test. And a few devised nonverbal sig-
nals to cue children that their answers were incomplete. For all the lock-and-
key procedures and explicit rules, more teachers cheated on Ohio standardized
tests than ever before.
(Smith Richards, 2006, p. 4)

The difference between these two examples is that in the second one, teachers are
controlled from a distance and by a faceless inspector that comes shrink-wrapped
and delivered by UPS or, today, more likely, through a computer screen.2 These
forms of control not only bypass the principal and superintendent, and flow di-
rectly into the classroom but also decrease the amount of autonomy teachers and
principals have over curriculum and instruction.
Some have argued that principals appear to have benefited by receiving
greater autonomy over such things as budgets and hiring, and appear to be re-
professionalizing (Jarl, Fredrikson, & Persson, 2011). But they are encouraged to
professionalize around the principles of NPM and do so independent of teachers,
which reinforces a management-worker split. Furthermore, alternative pathways to
the principalship—and teaching as well—have weakened attempts at professionali-
zation through the usual channels of certification and professional associations. As
we will discuss later, these channels are deserving of extensive critique (see Labaree,
2004; Freidrich, 2014; Zeichner, 2014); however, they represent an important pub-
lic investment in public education, view teaching and administration as careers, and
provide some assurance that those who teach our children have had some profes-
sional training.

NEW ENTREPRENEURIAL PROFESSIONALS

WITHIN AN AUDIT CULTURE

From policing to teaching to practicing medicine, the shift to NPM elaborated

earlier has reconstituted most occupations and professions. In education, a new
generation of teachers and administrators is being socialized into a very different
152 THE “NEW PROFESSIONAL”

workplace with a different conception of teaching and leading. While teachers in-
creasingly teach to the test, leaders are expected to lead to the test. Since control
is now exercised through market discipline and high-stakes tests that increasingly
drive what goes on in classrooms, principals are being given more and more “au-
tonomy,” oftentimes to exercise leadership over less and less (Shipps, 2012). Nearly
25% of teachers are no longer prepared in universities though coursework and stu-
dent teaching but rather through alternative pathways, such as Teach for America.
These teachers develop very different professional identities, are more scripted in
their teaching methods, tend to be more anti-union, and most do not see teach-
ing as a career (Thomas & Mockler, 2018). Increasingly, school administrators are
also being developed similarly through alternative pathways, such as New Leaders
for New Schools, Relay Graduate School, and many are from the TFA pipeline
(Mungal, 2016).
Some see promise in the notion of distributed leadership as a way to build
greater professional capacity. But while workplaces are being redesigned to inten-
sify work and distribute it horizontally, power is being distributed upward by cen-
tralizing policy over curriculum and instruction through high-stakes testing and
mayoral control. According to Evetts (2011), these developments are shifting the
locus of control from a previous focus on professional judgment to control through
policies that increase top-down forms of organizational professionalism and reduce
occupational professionalism in which judgment comes from within the profes-
sion. The new teacher and administrator are put in a position in which they must
look to market- and test-based forms of accountability for direction rather than
their professional instincts, training, associations, or unions.
The ability of new digital technologies to integrate management information
systems and standardize the labor process promises to intensify this tendency
(Burch, 2014; Selwyn, 2011). In fact, Courtney (2017) argues that as privatiza-
tion has turned more technological with cyber charter schools and predictive
analytics using big data, “the conceptual opacity underpinning educational lead-
ership now renders that very leadership obsolete by enabling a corporate agenda
where the locus, goals and mechanisms of decision-making are globalised, pri-
vatized and consequently, are moving out of schools completely” (p. 24). In-
creasingly, core decisions about hiring, budgeting, curriculum, instruction, etc.,
are being made in boardrooms far from the school, perhaps even in another
country.
As we move more and more toward external forms of accountability, we lose
many of the advantages of internal accountability. According to Carnoy et al. (2003),
internal forms of accountability include

Individual teachers’ and administrators’ beliefs about teaching and learning,

their shared understanding of who their students are, the routines they develop
for getting their work done, and the external expectations from parents, com-
munities, and administrative agencies under which they work.
(p. 3)
 THE “NEW PROFESSIONAL” 153

Ironically, this shift in accountability has narrowed their professional discretion

while also expanding and intensifying their role expectations. Summarizing
research in changing teacher roles in the U.S., Valli and Buese (2007) discuss
a widening scope of teacher responsibilities, including heightened expecta-
tions of collaboration outside the classroom, strict adherence to new curricular
and instructional requirements, and the collection and analysis of assessment
data.
While these additional role expectations could expand—and, under certain cir-
cumstances, have expanded—educators’ professionalism (Stillman, 2011), it has
more often tended to reduce it to working within an audit culture of external met-
rics that requires being accountable to standards and criteria that they had no part in
developing (Apple, 2004; Strathern, 2000). As noted at the beginning of this chap-
ter, even where professional learning communities are in place, the data teachers
are encouraged to analyze and the tasks they rehearse are typically not their own.
In most cases, conception and execution have been successfully separated (Apple &
Jungck, 1992). This separation mimics proletarianization in which craft labor was
fragmented and replaced by factory wage labor.
The shift to greater external accountability has exposed educators not only to
new forms of control through an audit culture and curbs on their professional judg-
ment but also, as we illustrated in Chapter 1, to a marketized environment that
forces them to compete both internally with each other and externally with other
organizations. So, professionals, adept at coexisting with bureaucratic forms of con-
trol, find themselves in new territory. Freidson (2001) viewed professionalism as a
mechanism for organizing some aspects of social life based on expertise and social
trust. Professionals depend on this social trust with the public for their legitimacy.
In this sense, professionalism both competed with and provided some protection
from both market and bureaucratic forms of organization. As professionalism is
eroded as a countervailing force to both bureaucracy and markets, social trust and
public capacity-building are eroded as well.

EDUCATING THE NEW EDUCATION PROFESSIONAL

The idea of preparing teachers and administrators in universities is fairly recent

and it is only during the decades from 1960 to 1990 that universities trained the
vast majority of teachers and administrators. Previously, teachers were trained in
secondary schools, normal schools, teachers institutes, teachers colleges, or even
school districts, and administrators prior to the 1960s were often merely handed the
keys to the building with the well wishes of the superintendent. Since the 1990s,
there has been an explosion of alternative pathways to teacher and administrator
preparations outside of universities and increasing numbers of for-profit and online
programs. Smith and Pandolfo (2011) report that since 2007, the leading producers
of teachers in Texas are two for-profit online programs: “A+ Texas Teachers” and
“iteach Texas.”
154 THE “NEW PROFESSIONAL”

As noted in previous chapters, new policy networks have laid the ground for
this shift, heavily funded by venture philanthropy. Philanthropists such as the
Carnegie, Rockefeller, and Ford Foundations have for decades funded initiatives to
improve the preparation of teachers and administrators in colleges and universities.
However, in the last two decades, venture philanthropy has shifted toward sup-
porting alternative pathways outside of universities for the preparation of teachers
and administrators (Mungal, 2016; Reckhow, 2013). This support has ultimately
resulted in legislation that opens up teacher education to a free market of nonprofit
and for-profit operators, and in some states hardly any regulations at all.
Known as the “warm body” law, Arizona Senate Bill 1042, signed into law in
May 2017 by Republican Governor Doug Ducey, permits “persons” with a college
degree to bypass Arizona’s regular teacher certification process to obtain grades six
to twelve teaching certificates (Straus, 2017). They should have five years of rel-
evant experience, but “relevant experience” was not defined. In Arizona, charter
school “teachers” were already exempt from state certification requirements. Since
2009, the Arizona Legislature has cut school district capital funding by 85%, while
it has increased charter school funds for capital purchases and facilities by 15%
(Straus, 2017).
Furthermore, Section 2002(4) of Title II of the 2015 Every Student Succeeds
Act (ESSA) encourages states to support independent “teacher preparation acad-
emies.” The previous version of the law encouraged alternative certification pro-
grams within education schools, and in most states, alternative teacher education
programs were required to partner with a certification-granting institution. The
new law also requires states to recognize certificates from these stand-alone acade-
mies, “as at least the equivalent of a masters degree in education for the purpose of
hiring, retention, compensation, and promotion in the state.”
This legislation was strongly supported by, among others, the New Schools
Venture Fund (NSVF), founded by social entrepreneur Kim Smith and funded by
venture philanthropists John Doerr and Brook Byers (Horn & Libby, 2011). NSVF
is a single node of a dense network of venture philanthropists promoting the privat-
ization of teacher and administrator preparations.
Zeichner (2014), while calling for significant reform of university-based teacher
education, defends it on the following grounds:

1. With over 3.6 million teachers, and with between 70% and 80% prepared in
university programs, it is doubtful whether a free market of private programs
could meet the capacity needs of such a large system. The emphasis of alter-
native pathways, such as Teach for America or The New Teacher Project, on
attracting the “best and brightest” ignores the content of teacher preparation
and the fact that we can’t recruit all of the teachers we need from the ranks of
elite colleges.
2. Shifting the preparation of teachers and administrators to a more school-based,
clinical model runs the risk of merely reproducing the status quo. Nor do dis-
tricts have the capacity to take over the preparation of teachers and administra-
tors without a significant infusion of resources.
 THE “NEW PROFESSIONAL” 155

3. Countries that lead the world in educational performance have done so in part
because of public investment in the preparation of teachers in colleges and
universities.

Zeichner (2014) concludes that “the solution to the problems of college and
university-based teacher education is to redesign and strengthen the system, not to
abandon it” (p. 561). The new public sector professional is in part a product of the
kind of professional preparation they have received, but, as we have documented
here, they are also formed by new neoliberal policies and the ways these policies
have transformed organizational management culture.

WORKING TOWARD DEMOCRATIC PROFESSIONALISM

Teaching and school administration as professions have been under attack for a
long time and some of the criticisms have merit (Friedrich, 2014; Levine, 2006).
Traditional bureaucracies and the older model of professionalism were notorious
for resisting change and failing to meet the needs of many children in urban dis-
tricts (Meier, 1995; Payne, 2008; Rogers, 2006). Furthermore, claims to profes-
sionalism by school personnel have often marginalized the voices of low-income
parents and communities (Driscoll, 1998; Green, 2015). The task ahead is not to
merely reassert “traditional” professionalism wholesale but rather to better under-
stand how to resist the most egregious assaults on professionals, while acknowledg-
ing the weaknesses of traditional models of professional training and professional
accountability.3 Such resistance would insist on a professional ethos with demo-
cratic participation and the public good at its center.
Table 7.1 compares various aspects of occupational (1950s–1980s) and organi-
zational professionalism (1990s to present) and suggests what democratic profes-
sionalism might look like. While largely aspirational, there are many examples of
democratic professionalism already in existence. Occupational professionalism in
teaching was characterized by some attempts to provide a more child-centered
approach that honored the multiple intelligences that children brought to school
(Gardner, 1993) and even low-income students had access to instruction in art, mu-
sic, and physical education. While the typical classroom was traditional and teacher
led, there was considerable innovation around the edges, such as open classrooms,
schools without walls, and other Deweyian approaches that were popular though
not numerous (Goodlad, 1984).
By the 1990s, state-level accountability systems based on business models were
promoted that aligned instruction, curriculum, and standardized tests. The passage
of NCLB in 2001 intensified this tendency nationally and increased the stakes by
comparing schools and punishing those with lower test scores. Many schools that
served poor children did not teach untested subjects; encouraged more teacher-
led and standardized instruction; diminished art, music, physical education, and
recess; and ignored students’ multiple intelligences. Charter schools, which were
supposed to encourage innovations that would be transferred to public schools,
156 THE “NEW PROFESSIONAL”

instead too often embraced paternalistic approaches based on old-fashioned Catho-

lic School models: strict discipline, uniforms, single-sex education, and rote learn-
ing (McDermott & Nygreen, 2013).
While it is clear that low-income children will likely need greater levels of scaffold-
ing to make up for the out-of-school factors that favor more affluent, mostly White stu-
dents (Berliner, 2009, Delpit, 1995), they should not receive a fundamentally different
education. Since Anyon’s (1980) early studies of how social reproduction involved a
fundamentally different classroom experience for the poor and working class, we have
known that all children deserve an asset-based, innovative, loving, culturally responsive
pedagogy with a well-trained, certified teacher and a principal who empowers parents
and the school community. This should be the goal of the new democratic professional (see
Anderson, 2009; Dzur, 2008; Keith, 2015; Sachs, 2003; Woods, 2005).
The good news is that this new democratic professionalism and the policies and
practices that might support it are already in place in many districts and schools.
More recently, community schools and wraparound services are making schools
more responsive to low-income communities (Keith, 2015). Restorative justice
programs are replacing zero tolerance discipline policies in many schools (Lustick,
2017). Some districts are using peer assistance and review (PAR) to evaluate teach-
ers. In this approach, teachers do peer evaluations and the district partners with the
teachers’ union to make tenure and promotion decisions (Goldstein, 2010). There
are also districts that are waiving high-stakes testing requirements for schools that
experiment with authentic assessment (n.a. 2017). Culturally responsive teaching
has made inroads in many schools, replacing a “boot camp” approach that blames
students and families for low achievement (Gay, 2010). Some teachers’ unions are
making alliances with communities and building solidarity to not only protect their
conditions of work but also to resist NPM reforms (Nunez, Michie, & Konkol,
2015). Participatory Action Research, especially with youth, represents an alterna-
tive pedagogy and can open more democratic spaces in schools and communities
(Anderson, 2017; Cammarota & Fine, 2008). All of these practices and policies are
laying the groundwork for challenging the “new professional” that NPM is shaping
and replacing it, not with the “old professional” but rather with a new democratic
professional capable of restoring social trust.
Luckily, there are alternative ways of conceptualizing professionalism that do
not involve deprofessionalization and the elimination of academic training and
certification but rather involve building greater professional and social trust and
greater inclusion of those we serve, whether they are patients, students, soldiers, or
inmates. Democratic professionals do not yearn for a reassertion of what many view
as their lost sense of status and authority. Instead, they seek to democratize their
practices and their organizations. Movements in bioethics, public journalism, and
restorative justice are examples of professionals seeking to regain public trust. Dzur
(2008) believes that

Far from a deprofessionalization or anti-institution movement, these demo-

cratic reformers still value the specific, specialized knowledge of the seasoned
journalist and editor, well-studied and practiced physician, and well-trained
 THE “NEW PROFESSIONAL” 157

and experienced judge and attorney. As they try to be more democratic and
help laypeople gain useful civic skills, they also seek to transform ossified con-
ceptions of professionalism, but they are in no way anti-professional.
(p. 3)

Most current reforms that attempt to improve education have been imported
from business, but there are other sectors that are far more appropriate for seek-
ing ideas. For instance, the concept of restorative justice has been imported into
education from criminal justice. Community schools and wraparound services
are influenced by social work. The importance of mindfulness comes from reli-
gious spirituality, and the importance of caring and wellness, from nursing. Our
obsession with the efficiency principles of NPM has blinded us to the very kind
of conceptual borrowing that we need to successfully care for and teach our most
vulnerable students.

CONCLUSION

Fenwick (2016) makes a distinction between professional responsibility and account-

ability. Professional responsibility refers to “the expectation for professionals to
respond to social needs in particular ways. Accountability is about how profession-
als are expected to justify or account for the ways they perform those responsi-
bilities” (p. 9). While professional responsibility is centered on the professional’s
own judgment and ethics, professional accountability is centered on professionals’
compliance with externally imposed indicators of performance. As we can see, the
accountability systems we have in place often pressure the “new” professional to
behave “irresponsibly.”
The example that opened this chapter illustrates how teachers who opted
for a more humanizing approach toward the ninth graders that they wanted to
retain were encouraged to use spreadsheets of test scores instead. While this
may seem like an extreme case, it resonates with most teachers who see their
responsibility as serving the whole child. Our example in Chapter 1 of the en-
trepreneurial principal illustrates the extent to which market-based, incentivist
policies drive principals to ignore social needs in favor of their school, their stu-
dents, and their careers. Like the police officer who needs to arrest one more kid
to make his Comstat numbers, professionals are increasingly being pushed into
socially irresponsible behavior by narrow systems of accountability. Solbrekke
and Sugrue (2014) argue that the notion of professional responsibility leads to
more proactive activity, while professional accountability results in more reactive
behavior.
This raises the question of professional resistance to accountability measures
that pressure professionals to behave “irresponsibly.” How might professionals “re-
sponsibly” resist “irresponsible” accountability schemes? And how much risk are
professionals willing to tolerate as they feel ethically compelled to engage in princi-
pled resistance to irresponsible policies? Effective resistance would have to consider
158 THE “NEW PROFESSIONAL”

how education professionals make sense of, and negotiate, a complex ecosystem of
federal and state policies, district mandates, venture philanthropy, policy networks,
local advocacy groups, and market competition (Koyama, 2014). It would have to
be clear about not only what and whom is being resisted but also toward what end.
It is also more effective and less risky to resist collectively than individually. The
2018 statewide teacher strike in West Virginia and the 2012 Chicago Teachers strike
(Nunez et al., 2015) are reminders of the power of solidarity.
Teachers and school leaders who seek to engage in what Achinstein and Ogawa
(2006) call “principled resistance” to market-driven and prescriptive education
policies need resistance strategies, each of which must be tailored to the circum-
stances at hand (see Anderson & Cohen, 2015, for example). Strategies of resist-
ance that enable educators merely to work around NPM, however, will have a very
limited and short-term impact. Resistance needs to be more than a refusal; it must
be productive—that is, it must generate an understanding of public education that
transcends market ideology and the audit culture. The resistance we have in mind
would generate a democratic professionalism.
But democracy can be understood in many ways and is often appropriated in ways
that are not authentic; as we saw in our discussion of micropolitics in Chapter 4, it
can be used merely to legitimate nondemocratic practices. The following chapter
takes up the issue of what democracy means for education and the role that teachers
and leaders play in defending it.

END-OF-CHAPTER QUESTIONS
1. Reflect on your own initial and ongoing professional development. To what
extent were you trained as a “new professional”?
2. How does your current work environment reflect the tenets of New Public
Management?
3. To what extent do you feel that you work within an “audit culture”? How
much does high-stakes testing affect you? How does school choice affect your
decisions as a teacher or principal?

NOTES
1 The previous bureaucratic form of organizing and managing schools was also borrowed
from industrial business leaders who propagated organizing efficient schools around
the factory model. However, as professional organizations, they contained—in theory,
at least—a strong professional and public ethos.
2 According to a marketing report from the Educational Technology Industry Network
(ETIN), the testing industry grew 57% in the last three years with an annual income of
$2,500,000,000 in 2013 (Richards & Stebbins, 2014). The testing industry is the leading
edge in the conversion from print to digital education.
3 By “traditional,” we mean relatively recent university-based professional preparation as
opposed to previous apprenticeship models.
 THE “NEW PROFESSIONAL” 159

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CHAPTER 8

In Pursuit of Democratic
Education
Putting the Public Back in Public Schools

Americans generally agree that the U.S. is a democracy. We know that “dark
money” has distorted elections (Mayer, 2016); corporate lobbyists have too much
influence over our politicians (Drutman, 2015); and, with the election of Donald
Trump as president, many Americans are reading books like George Orwell’s 1984,
Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, and Sinclair Lewis’s It Can’t Happen Here, which
are about how antidemocratic forces can take over societies. And yet, we are still a
republic with a constitution and three more or less functioning branches of govern-
ment. But the structures of democracy, which includes public schools, can weaken
greatly over time, and our democratic skills and habits can atrophy from disuse.
Many Americans profess to support the concept of public schooling but send their chil-
dren to private schools. In this chapter, we explore the many meanings of democracy
and how, with the current laser-like focus on producing human capital for interna-
tional competition, schools are largely abdicating their responsibility to educate a new
generation to defend democratic principles (Labaree, 1997; Westheimer, 2007).
While we have addressed concerns in previous chapters about confusing con-
sumer choice with political democracy and what it means for a school to be “pub-
lic,” in this chapter, we will explore these issues in greater detail. The writing on
democracy is vast and we can only scratch the surface, but John Dewey’s many
books set the standard for its implications for education. In 1927, a period much
like our own, and two years before the stock market crashed, Dewey wrote about
the alarming growth of forces that made democratic deliberation more difficult.
In The Public and its Problems (1927), he elaborated on the forces that stood in the
public’s way. His list was a familiar one: special interests, the inordinate power of
corporations, mind-numbing entertainment, selfishness and a focus on the indi-
vidual, and a lack of interest in political affairs. His book was a response to Walter
Lippman’s The Phantom Public (1925), in which he argued that the public had little
capacity to engage in rational deliberation on public issues and challenged the very
existence of “public” in the U.S. Dewey, while cognizant of the obstacles, was con-
fident that improvements in communications and education could restore to the
public its political voice.
166 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION

A decade earlier, Dewey had written Democracy and Education (1916), a classic in
the Education field. In it, Dewey argued that democracy should be a daily lived ex-
perience, not limited to voting for political candidates. He supported school boards
and elections in general but felt that this form of political democracy was fragile and
only a fraction of what it meant to be a democratic citizen. For Dewey, democracy
had to be lived in the classroom, in the school, and in everyday life. Dewey would
have objected to viewing choice in a marketplace as a form of democracy. He would
have pointed out that without participating in collective decision-making through
democratic organizations, citizen’s political skills would atrophy and they would be
unlikely to defend larger democratic principles of a liberal democracy.
While it is impossible to discuss notions of democracy, education, and the “public”
without reference to Dewey, views on democracy and education have become even
more contentious in recent decades. In this chapter, we will discuss democracy and
public education by presenting different ways in which democracy is viewed in current
policy debates. The first, following Dewey, is how we model democracy in school and
district governance. Who should be included in decision-making, and in which areas?
How do we structure spaces for open deliberation? How wide should inclusion be?
Should it extend beyond the school, to parents and community members? What mech-
anisms should be used to achieve broad inclusion in democratic decision-making?
The second sense of democracy goes beyond inclusion in decision-making to
inclusion in the benefits of society—a quality education being one of those bene-
fits. This sense of democracy links it to human and civil rights and equal educational
opportunity, and requires us to do a kind of equity audit of our schools (Capper &
Young, 2015; Johnson & Avelar Lasalle, 2010) and our society. While in previous
chapters, we have critiqued the “audit culture” that high-stakes testing has pro-
duced, here, we refer to how principals and teachers can use data and inquiry to
monitor how equitable their school is. To what extent are our schools racially and
socioeconomically segregated or tracked internally? How equitably are schools be-
ing funded? Who is in special education? Who is in programs for the gifted and
talented? Who is being suspended at high rates? Who is being bullied? Who is being
pushed out by gentrification? How might economic, social, and cultural capital be
more evenly distributed in schools and in society?
The third sense of democracy is the question of what it means for a school to be
“public.” A school is not “public” merely because it receives public funds but rather
because it is transparent and accountable to the public and works to foster a dem-
ocratic public sphere and a common good. If we are part of the “public,” then we
relate to public schools as citizens, not as consumers. This confusion is endemic in
our society as markets and choice are being presented as replacements for political
democracy (Chubb & Moe, 1990). It is only through the fostering of democratic
citizenship and a democratic, public sphere that we, as citizens, can hold both the
State and the Market accountable. It is also the job of the State to hold the market
accountable through regulation, a job the neoliberal State has failed to do, in part
because of corporate lobbying and contributions to politicians (Drutman, 2015). In
the following three sections, we will develop these three meanings of democracy—
inclusion in democratic governance, inclusion in society’s benefits, and the mean-
ing of “public”—in more detail.
 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION 167

DEMOCRACY AS DEMOCRATIC PARTICIPATION

IN DECISION-MAKING

In Chapter 5, we discussed how hierarchical forms of governance in schools gave way

in the 1980s to experiments with shared governance. We described in some detail
Malen and Ogawa’s (1988) study of site-based management and the obstacles en-
countered in early attempts to be more participatory in school-level decision-making.
Unfortunately, the record on successful attempts at participatory decision-making in
schools is still spotty. While many schools have leadership teams and “PLCs” (pro-
fessional learning communities), they are too often democratic in name only. In the
previous chapter, we described a teacher inquiry group in which teachers were sup-
posed to be able to make decisions based on their own school-based inquiry or action
research. Yet the so-called inquiry group was largely an attempt to get teachers to use
an expensive database the district had purchased. While having a lot of data availa-
ble can enhance a teacher’s decision-making, in too many cases, “inquiry” is defined
merely as “data use,” typically test data on spreadsheets. In such cases, the goal is to
use this data to reteach topics based on test items that students did poorly on. In this
way, inquiry is connected to high-stakes testing and other quantitative outcomes data,
and reduces teaching to a process of test, remediate, test, remediate, test, remediate.
This is an impoverished notion of teaching but is dominant in many schools as teach-
ers “teach to the test” and leaders “lead to the test.”
But what would it take to achieve more authentic forms of inquiry and partic-
ipation in decision-making? Anderson (1998) developed a framework for thinking
about what authentic forms of participation might take. Table 8.1 presents a series
of interrelated questions through which to interrogate the authenticity of current
approaches to participation. This framework consists of five central questions:
(1) Participation toward what end? (2) Who participates? (3) What are relevant
spheres of participation? (4) What conditions and processes must be present locally
to make participation authentic? (i.e. the micropolitics of participation), (5) What
conditions and processes must be present at broader institutional and societal levels
to make participation authentic? (i.e. the macropolitics of participation).
Table 8.1 A Framework for Moving Toward Authentic Participation
Authenticity as… Key questions

Micropolitical considerations
Broad inclusion Who participates?
Relevant participation Participation in which spheres?
Authentic local conditions and processes What conditions and processes should
be present locally?
Macropolitical considerations
Coherence between means and ends of Participation toward what end?
participation
Focus on broader structural inequities. What conditions and processes should be present
at broader institutional and societal levels?
168 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION

Some of these questions are self-explanatory. For instance, the first question
about the ends of participation relates to the example of the inquiry group in which
the ends for the teachers were to engage in authentic and collaborative inquiry and
to explore how they might identify practices that were leading to students dropping
out of school. But the ends for the district were to get teachers to use their new da-
tabase and engage in data-driven decision-making limited to quantitative outcomes
data. When things like inquiry groups or leadership teams are mandated, as they
often are in school districts, it makes sense to question whose ends they serve. Au-
thentic participation can seldom be mandated, but that doesn’t mean leaders can’t
appropriate mandates to generate authentic and collaborative spaces in schools.
The question of who participates has been a contentious issue in schools. It is
often assumed that shared governance in schools is limited to teachers and admin-
istrators. Including parents, students, or community members in school decisions
is more complicated. Many teachers see professional decisions as their prerogative,
while parents may feel that teachers are insufficiently culturally responsive or have
low expectations for their children. Furthermore, as we discussed in Malen and
Ogawa’s (1988) study in Chapter 5, simply having everyone around the table does
not mean that they are equally invited to participate. Power relations, access to in-
formation, and norms of civility often determine levels of participation by different
constituencies. Authentic dialogue about these issues is difficult but not impossible
if a school can create a welcoming atmosphere for parents.
For parents, and particularly low-income parents, authentic participation
would have to move beyond merely volunteering in the school to (1) governance
and decision-making, (2) organizing for equity and quality, (3) input toward a cul-
turally responsive curriculum, and (4) home educational support. Much current
literature also questions whether parent and community participation can be ef-
fective without understanding how particular parents or communities view their
schools and how they define involvement (Gold, Simon, & Brown, 2004; Green,
2015; Ishimaru, 2014).
Teachers want relevant participation. They do not want to have to divert time
and energy into decision-making domains that they view as nonrelevant or friv-
olous. Presenting empirical data on teacher participation, Bacharach, Bamberger,
Conley, and Bauer (1990) argued that school reformers needed to progress beyond
the “monolithic myth” of teacher participation in decision-making and determine
which specific decision domains teachers wished to participate in. While there is
still some disagreement on specifics, most researchers of teacher participation agree
that core areas of participation which are central to both the core technology of the
school and the core areas of interest for teachers are the areas of budget, personnel,
instruction, and curriculum (Reitzug & Capper, 1996). Although most of a school’s
budget goes to teacher salaries, there are often considerable discretionary funds for
site-based budgetary decisions. Besides budget, teachers also want input into per-
sonnel issues, particularly hiring, an area in which principals and teachers currently
have greater participation. On the other hand, high-stakes testing and, increasingly,
technology (Burch & Good, 2014) drive curriculum and instruction often over the
heads of teachers and administrators.
 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION 169

As for what conditions and processes should be present locally, reformers tend to bor-
row models of participation from the corporate closet. “Quality circles” of workers
making decisions may work in Germany, where workers benefit from shared gov-
ernance even at the top of their corporations (see Addison, 2009). However, in the
U.S., they are more likely a way for management to increase production and speed
up the work routines.
It might make more sense to look to mission-driven, nonprofit organizations
for a more appropriate model. Based on a national study of Social Change Or-
ganizations (SCOs), Ospina and Foldy (2005, 2010) suggest that SCOs are a ne-
glected source from which to enhance our understanding of leadership. SCOs are
generally located within a growing civil society sector of advocacy organizations
within both the public and the nonprofit sectors. They include “community-based
and alternative organizations and groups connected to social movements, as well
as networks of organizations engaged in civic reform” (p. 6). For these grassroots
organizations, leadership is directly focused on goals of advocacy and social change.
The democratic goals of these organizations lead, according to Bryson and Crosby
(1992), to problems of sharing power within the organization as well as through in-
terorganizational coordination. They suggest that this creates the need for a form of
public leadership that is essentially different from leaders pursuing more restricted
organizational goals.
As school and district leaders begin to view themselves as advocates for children
and communities, models of leadership developed from SCOs might be more in-
structive than those developed from corporate organizations (Ishimaru, 2014). The
leadership framework that Ospina and Foldy (2005) developed

poses that the consistent use of a set of leadership drivers, anchored in a set
of assumptions and core values of social justice, helps members of these or-
ganizations engage in practices and activities that build collective power,
which is then leveraged to produce long-term outcomes for social change.
Together, the drivers, assumptions and core values act as an integrated philos-
ophy or worldview that becomes a powerful source of meaning to help frame
and to ground the practices, activities and tools used to engage in action and
accomplish the work effectively (bold in original).
(p. 12)

The emphasis on shared assumptions and core values focused on social justice
and the ongoing dialogue required to reach sufficient consensus to act together
is central to SCOs but largely neglected in schools because it is too often viewed
as conflict producing. Like other organizations, SCOs struggle with conflict, but
there is an acknowledgment that underlying assumptions and core values are
central to the organization’s very existence. Schools that serve low-income chil-
dren and children of color are often operating on a set of underlying assump-
tions that hold unjust practices in place. Johnson (2002) calls this stage of school
change “killing the myth and building dissatisfaction,” meaning that teachers
must reject the school’s status quo and take an authentic look at the ways they
170 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION

may be perpetuating inequality in their schools and refuse to tolerate practices

that are not equitable. This calls for deep dialogue about teachers’ assumptions
about their students and commitment to social justice before proceeding with
school change.
This mission-driven approach to social justice might address some of the prob-
lems that Malen and Ogawa (1988), and subsequent researchers found with at-
tempts at shared decision-making. It makes collective power, not the individual
power of the principal or teacher the primary goal. This might make it more likely
that local conditions might involve more sharing of information, as well as power. It
might make it more likely that marginalized stakeholders like students, low-income
parents, and community organizers might be seen less as threats to the status quo
and more as allies in struggle.
Ospina and Foldy’s (2005) framework calls for a series of ongoing practices
that include cultivating collaborative capacity, using collective identity narratives
to build solidarity, engaging in dialogue across difference, organizing, public policy
advocacy, community building, direct service provision, grassroots leadership de-
velopment, developing interorganizational capacity, and network building. While
these activities are not all foreign to school leaders, they are far from central to
leadership models that are currently available.

What Conditions and Processes Should Be Present at Broader

Institutional and Societal Levels?
Much of this book is an attempt to better understand why we have abandoned at-
tempts to create a more equitable society and how this affects what it means to be a
teacher or leader today. Inequalities in the U.S. have reached the levels of the 1920s
Gilded Age of the robber barons. And yet, the 2017 tax bill promises to increase
levels of inequality even more. The New York Times reports that those who will
most benefit from the Republicans’ tax bill are big corporations, multimillionaires,
private equity managers, private schools, liquor stores, lawyers, tax accountants, and
President Trump and his family (Drucker & Rappeport, 2017, December 16). It
cuts the corporate tax rates and raised the exception on the estate tax to $22 million,
giving a massive tax cut to the very wealthy. On the other hand, the Times reports
that those who will be most hurt by the tax plan are the elderly; low-income fami-
lies; immigrants; people buying health insurance; and homeowners in the states of
New York, New Jersey, and California. The tax bill repealed the individual health
insurance mandate, which will cause insurance premiums to rise. The Congres-
sional Budget Office estimates that 13 million Americans are projected to lose their
health insurance under the plan.
In Chapter 2, we argued for finding ways to hold the powerful accountable for
policy outcomes, and described Thomas Rogers, former president of the New York
State Council of School Superintendents, notion of reciprocal accountability. This es-
sentially means that not just schools would have a report card, but each level of gov-
ernment (federal, state, and district) as well as the corporate sector and Wall Street
bankers should be held accountable for things they can influence. Such a report
 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION 171

card might be a way to reframe who is “making excuses” for tolerating the levels
of social inequality we are experiencing and the social policies that have produced
them. Our crisis of social inequality has been passed discursively from the neolib-
eral State onto our public schools.

DEMOCRACY AS INCLUSION AND EQUAL EDUCATIONAL

OPPORTUNITY

Throughout this book, we stress the need to defend public schools against attempts
to privatize them. But the public schools we need are not the public schools we’ve
historically had. Leaders who want to provide equal educational opportunity should
have a clear-eyed understanding of how our public schools have been organized to
privilege those who are already privileged. We can’t interrupt privilege, whether by
race, class, gender, language, sexual orientation/gender identity, disability, and their
intersections, if we do not understand how it operates at the levels of structure and
culture, and how the two levels reinforce each other. There are many frameworks
that can help us understand how privilege is socially reproduced. There are a va-
riety of critical theories that do the job, each highlighting different issues: critical
race theories, critical feminist theories, queer theories, critical disability theories,
neo-Marxist theories, some post-structural theories, socio-material theories, and
we could go on. Some of these we discussed in Chapter 2. We use theories in the
plural, since under each of these categories of theories, there are many different
theorists.
To discuss democracy in terms of social inclusion, we’ve chosen to use French
sociologist, Pierre Bourdieu’s theory of social reproduction (Bourdieu & Passeron,
1970/1990), which was originally based on the reproduction of social class, though
he also studied the reproduction of gender roles as well (Bourdieu, 2001). Although,
other than viewing it as a form of cultural capital, he did not address race to any
great extent. Others, however, have appropriated his work with a focus on race
(Carter, 2007; Delpit, 1995; Lewis, 2003; Stanton-Salazar, 2011; Wallace, 2017;
Yosso, 2006). Bourdieu defines the privileged as those whose economic, cultural, and
social capital have greater exchange value within social fields (Bourdieu & Passeron,
1970/1990). In our case, we focus on the education field.
The possession of economic capital means that some can leave the public school
system altogether by purchasing a more privileged education and sending their
children to elite, nonpublic, independent private schools, some of which charge
upward of $50,000 a year per child. Or they can afford to buy a home in a school
district with well-funded, elite schools and claim to be strong supporters of “pub-
lic schools.” It is important to acknowledge that while 90% of K-12 students at-
tend public schools (including charter schools as “public”), our public schools
have traditionally been highly stratified because of the ways we fund them. Sub-
urbs with high property values tend to have better resourced schools and draw
on a middle- to upper-middle-class student population that is also disproportion-
ately White.
172 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION

This is where economic and social capital converge. Parents are not only choosing
private and suburban schools because the additional resources provide an enriched
curriculum, better facilities, and guidance counselors with links to Ivy League uni-
versities. They are also purchasing the social networks their children will enter and
the lifelong social capital they will acquire as their friendship groups take their places
near the top of the social hierarchy. Throughout their lives, they will be socializing
with similarly privileged children and parents. Academically, this means accelerated
classes that prepare youth for prestigious universities that lead to privileged careers.
It also means that when it comes time to choose a life partner and possibly form a
family, that partner is also likely to be a member of this privileged class. Bourdieu
called this social reproduction, or the passing down of class, gender, and race privilege
from one generation to the next, and, at least in the France of the postwar years, he
saw schools and universities as central mechanisms of social reproduction. Other
sociologists refer to this tendency by the upper classes to maximize opportunity for
their own children as opportunity or dream hoarding (Reeves, 2017; Wright, 2009).
But only the elite can afford elite private schools and suburban school districts
that provide an equivalent elite public school experience. While middle-class par-
ents can buy homes in non-elite, middle-class suburbs and neighborhoods, most
have to rely more on their social and cultural capital than on their economic cap-
ital. So, they may have to use their social and cultural capital to more aggressively
work the system to get the best teachers and other resources from their local public
schools and make sure that their children are in the honors and gifted programs.
In urban areas, many middle-class professionals are gentrifying low-income
neighborhoods. They may bring resources to the parent-teacher organization and
hypothetically integrate schools by class and race, but there is much evidence that
they are also displacing many local residents and selecting public or charter schools
that have reached a “tipping point” of White middle-class children (Cucchiara,
2013; Posey Maddox, 2014) or a new breed of “prestige” charter schools (Brown &
Makris, 2017; Hankins, 2007).
Principals are in the awkward position of feeling that they need to recruit these
parents and the potential resources they bring to the school, even as they realize
that they are displacing local families (McGhee & Anderson, in press). Washington,
D.C., formerly known as the Chocolate City because of its large African American
population, now has more charter schools than public schools, and there is com-
pelling evidence that the charter schools are being used by gentrifying parents to
escape the public schools that are mostly populated by low-income children of
color (Mann & Bennett, 2016).
Once elites and the middle class (which probably includes most of us who are
writing or reading this) have deployed their considerable resources of economic,
cultural, and social capital, the working class and poor, who are disproportionately
Black and Latino, are left with the schooling options that remain. Some of the more
savvy parents, who can afford it, may rent an apartment in a “good” school district
or use a relative’s address who lives there. A few might take advantage of “choice”
policies to find a charter or public school they like better than their zoned school.
A handful of talented students get plucked out by gifted programs or college access
programs like Goldman Sachs funded, Prep for Prep. These students’ journey from
 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION 173

public housing to the Ivy Leagues is trumpeted in the media and lends support to
the American myth of meritocracy (McNamee & Miller, 2009).
But these opportunities, while welcome, are anomalies. For the most part,
given the relatively low exchange value of their capital, low-income parents sim-
ply cannot compete with elite and middle-class parents, which is why choice and
voucher policies are so problematic. The choices low-income parents are left with
are extremely limited, and the value of a voucher is unlikely to be enough to buy
their way into elite schools.
A key concept developed by Bourdieu is the notion of a cultural arbitrary. This
means that there is nothing inherently better or worse about anyone’s cultural cap-
ital. The same cultural capital that low-income youth use to effectively navigate
their own community is often not going to have a high exchange value in a school
classroom and vice versa (Delpit, 1995). This speaks to the need to help students
develop the ability to shift registers (deploy different forms of cultural capital)
in different settings. But unlike many paternalistic charter schools, this must be
done with a deep respect for the habitus (the cultural capital acquired though child-
rearing) of the student (McDermott & Nygreen, 2013). This habitus is strongly
linked to one’s identity and, if devalued, whether intentionally or not, can have
disastrous effects on a student’s sense of self.
It is now common, in this age of a rhetoric of high expectations for low-income
children, for principals to assign Ivy League colleges to children in the early grades
and grace the walls of classrooms with Ivy League university banners. This is clearly
better than the dreadful warning some teachers are rumored to give children in
New York City: “There is a cell at Riker’s Island with your name on it.” And yet, it
almost seems cruel to raise Ivy League expectations for low-income children, un-
less we are willing as educators and as a society to create the structural scaffolding it
would take to make that a more likely reality than the jail cell.
We live in an age in which claims that “the system is rigged” are finding in-
creased resonance on both sides of the political divide. The pipeline to prison met-
aphor has replaced the original pipeline to college metaphor. This is born out in
fact. In 2016, the U.S. Department of Education released a report that documents
how state and local spending on prisons and jails has increased at triple the rate of
funding for public education for preschool through grade twelve education in the
last three decades (Stullich, Morgan, & Schak, 2016). Increasingly, these jails and
prisons are owned and operated by for-profit corporations with an incentive to in-
crease their number of “customers” (Brickner & Diaz, 2011).
The time may be ripe for exposing, as Bourdieu attempted to do, how those of
us with a certain kind of economic, cultural, and social capital maintain and pass
on our privilege. But it wasn’t always this way to the same extent. The U.S. used
to have greater social upward mobility than European countries like France, where
Bourdieu developed his class-based theory. Now, France and all of Europe have
more upward social mobility than the U.S. (Wilkinson & Pickett, 2009). In addition
to greater class inequality, our schools and our society are becoming more racially
segregated (Orfield & Frankenberg, 2014). Educators, particularly those who work
in low-income communities, are in many ways the canary in the mine. They are the
ones who see these inequalities up close, even though most do not themselves live
174 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION

in low-income communities. But there is a tendency to want to fix the students and
their families rather than the social policies that have caused the problem.
The generation called the Millennials, who enter the education field, often does
so with a mission to work for social justice. At nearly every high school and uni-
versity graduation ceremony, principals, university Deans, and Presidents exhort
their graduates to go forth and change the world. Programs like Teach for America
and the KIPP charter franchise attract thousands of idealistic middle-class young
adults looking for an opportunity to change the world and work for social justice.
The same is true for university-based programs that prepare teachers and admin-
istrators. And yet, too many of these programs aim at giving poor children of color
cultural makeovers, as if a test-driven education and learning middle-class cultural
capital will alone lift them into the middle class. Few programs address the struc-
tural and policy changes that are needed if social justice is to be sought with any
kind of empirical realism (Anyon, 2014).

BOURDIEU AND SYMBOLIC VIOLENCE

A major tenet of Bourdieu and Passeron’s (1970/1990) Reproduction in Education, Soci-

ety and Culture was the idea that the social reproduction of privilege from generation
to generation could partly be understood in economic terms (tax codes, inheritance
laws, the appropriation by capitalists of the surplus value of workers’ and women’s la-
bor, etc.) but that the rarity of social class upward mobility during most historical pe-
riods had to be understood also in cultural terms. The authors lay out the subtle and
usually unconscious mechanisms through which dominant groups in society make
their own particular form of cultural capital appear to be the natural way of being in
the world. Thus, taking arbitrary cultural capital (e.g. white skin, a particular way of
pronouncing words, a manner of dress, etc.) which has no inherent superiority and
succeeding in imposing it as a dominant social norm through social institutions, par-
ticularly through formal schooling, represents what Bourdeau called symbolic violence.
Skin color is part of one’s cultural capital, although it is sometimes hard to dis-
entangle from social class (Leonardo, 2012). In the U.S., white skin typically has a
higher social exchange value than black or brown skin, which leads to forms of sym-
bolic violence that are seldom viewed as such. Decades ago, Rist (1977) described
how children were often placed in reading groups by skin color or social class markers
(clothing, hair style, dialect, etc.). Today, studies of school suspensions and referrals
to special education show the same tendencies to privilege the class and race-based
cultural capital of privileged students over those with cultural capital that has a lower
exchange value in classroom contexts (Ahram, Fergus, & Noguera, 2011).
Key to Bourdieu’s theory of social/economic reproduction is how cultural repro-
duction occurs and, for subordinate groups, the disconnect between the cultural
capital they obtain through child-rearing (habitus) and the cultural capital implicitly
valued in formal schooling. Some scholars have used the term “culturally responsive
pedagogy” to describe a pedagogy that is effective with children from low-income
and culturally diverse families (Gay, 2010; Ladson Billings, 1995). However, im-
plicit in their work is a recognition that most dominant teaching and schooling
 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION 175

practices have traditionally been culturally responsive in the sense that they have
tended to be congruent with the primary habitus of White, middle-class families.
Deborah Meier (2002) explains how this symbolic violence occurs in schools,

…what the most successful students had going for them was that even in
kindergarten, with their hands eagerly raised, they were ready to show off their
school smarts. Starting on day one, certain forms of knowledge and skill – the
stuff they’ve eagerly brought with them from home – was confirmed and hon-
ored, thus increasing their self-confidence to take still more risks…But many
other students never found a replacement for a school and teacher who didn’t
recognize their genius, who responded with a shrug or a look of incomprehen-
sion as they offered their equally eager home truths. They too soon learned
that in school all they could show off was their ignorance. Better to be bad, or
uninterested, or to just silently withdraw.
(p. 15)

Two important Bourdieuan concepts are alluded to in this passage. First, Meier’s
allusion to the reaction of students who are victims of symbolic violence represents
strategies that run the gamut from the relatively passive internalization of their lack
of worth to “being bad” or engaging in other forms of resistance. Fine (1991) doc-
umented how in some low-income urban high schools, the youth who dropped
out showed higher rates of mental health on psychological tests than those who
remained and were subjected to daily forms of symbolic violence. Cummins (1986)
showed how the older children in immigrant families did better academically than
their younger siblings because they were not exposed to as many years of symbolic
violence.
Second, the shrug or the “look of incomprehension” captures the spirit of sym-
bolic violence, which is inflicted on students often by well-meaning, capable, caring
teachers. These teachers are often simply incapable of recognizing, much less val-
uing, the cultural capital the student brings to the classroom. This child’s cultural
capital, which has a high exchange value at home, has little exchange value in a
classroom led by a teacher unfamiliar or unappreciative of the child’s cultural cap-
ital. This is more than a problem of cross-cultural misunderstanding or ignorance,
since one’s cultural capital is part of one’s habitus and is viewed as simply the natural
order of things. It is more closely related to Bourdieu’s notion of “misrecognition.”
Teachers take their habitus for granted “precisely because [they are] caught up in it,
bound up with it; [they] inhabit it like a garment. [They] feel at home in the world
because the world is also in [them], in the form of the habitus” (Bourdieu, 2000).
In fact, according to Bourdieu and Passeron (1970/1990), it is the very invisibil-
ity of the operation of symbolic power that makes it so effective.

Every power to exert symbolic violence, i.e. every power which manages to
impose meanings and to impose them as legitimate by concealing the power
relations which are the basis of its force, adds its own specifically symbolic force
to those power relations.
(p. 4)
176 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION

In this way, inequitable social relations are likely maintained not simply through
bad teaching as current school reform efforts assume but also through the everyday
pedagogy of dedicated and caring teachers, who are often unaware that they are
contributing to the social reproduction of inequality.
Issues of power and inclusion are also important at the level of staffing. Harry
Walcott’s (1973) classic ethnography, The Man in the Principal’s Office, captures how
schools were run somewhat like families during most of the 20th century. The
male principal was in charge, and the female teachers’ job was to care for the chil-
dren. As late as the 1950s, only 18% of school principals were women, and those
were mostly in elementary schools. Less than 1% of superintendents were women
(Grogen & Shakeshaft, 2010). Teachers and principals of color were extremely rare.
While those numbers have improved considerably, we still have a long way to go,
and in some areas, such as attracting and promoting teachers and leaders of color,
we seem to be going backward (Teachers Unite!, 2014).
On a more positive note, Bourdieu has developed the concepts of cultural repro-
duction and cultural production. Subordinated groups also produce culture under diffi-
cult circumstances, and these subcultures often sustain these groups against forms
of physical and symbolic violence (Scott, 1990). Afrocentric education and hip-hop
culture are examples of this cultural resiliency and are used by many culturally re-
sponsive teachers for healing the damage done through symbolic forms of violence
(Ginwright, 2004). Many school leaders are also trying to fight against forms of
symbolic violence by focusing on the whole child and her multiple intelligences.
We provide in Box 8.1 the example of Jamaal Bowman, a Bronx, New York middle
school principal, whose school is exemplary in this regard.

B O X 8 .1 J A M A A L B O W M A N , P R I N C I P A L , B R O N X , N E W Y O R K

Jamaal Bowman, principal of Cornerstone Academy for Social Action (CASA)

middle school in the Bronx is committed above all to educating the whole child.
This central belief has placed him at odds with many current school reforms,
including high-stakes testing. It’s not that CASA’s test scores haven’t been
high. It had the highest combined reading and math growth score average in
New York City in 2015. It has also ranked in the top 10% in the city in middle
school attendance since it opened. These high rankings buy him some
autonomy and political protection for speaking out, but he is proudest of
CASA’s productivity in the arts. Being the principal of a school in the Bronx
where hip-hop originated, Principal Bowman is himself an advocate of using
cultural forms that are relevant to his students’ experiences.
CASA students have produced expository, argumentative, and narrative
writing as well as poetry, and students have written and produced over ten
social justice music videos that have been featured on local news outlets.
CASA takes citizenship education seriously as well. When the Grand Jury in
 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION 177

Ferguson, Missouri, failed to indict a police officer in the fatal shooting of an

unarmed teenager, Michael Brown, CASA’s 270 students marched in their
Eastchester neighborhood, chanting, “No Justice, No Peace” and “We Will Not
Be Silent,” the name of a song they wrote themselves. The march ended with
a rally in which Principal Bowman gave a talk to the students about the
Ferguson tragedy.
He credits hip-hop for helping him through some rough times growing up
in New York City, and has made hip-hop a generative theme at the school to
bring students into the arts and political education. He and his school are
currently the focus of a documentary, CASA: An Education Revolution, which
will serve as a counter-story to documentaries like Waiting for Superman and
other corporate-funded celebrations of charter schools and vouchers. Besides
helping to produce the documentary, his other forms of advocacy include a
blog https://jamaalabowman.wordpress.com/ and his work with the New York
State Allies for Public Education (NYSAPE), which helped to spearhead the opt
out movement across America. The opt out process involves parents engaging
in an act of civil disobedience by signing forms that opt their students out of
taking high-stakes exams. According to Jamaal, “All kids are brilliant and adults
have to create the environment that nurtures their brilliance. Education is more
than just a test score.”

DEMOCRACY AS DEFENDING THE PUBLIC

In the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, we have seen what happens to democracy
when the State colonizes the private sector and civil society. Citizens are unable
to exercise their rights as citizens, and the State is unable to supply the economic
dynamism that regulated markets provide. But democracy is also threatened at the
other extreme. If the market and private sector take over the role of the State or
powerful corporations have inordinate power over the State, then citizens can no
longer participate in a robust political democracy but rather become resigned and
passive consumers. Each form of extremism, too much State or too much market,
creates a deficit of democracy.
Ironically, it was conservative economist, Milton Freidman, who warned that if
government grew too big, it could be taken over by corporations. But what Freidman
didn’t say was that corporations had been amassing power since the 19th century.
Few Americans are aware that the King of England chartered the first corporations
in America. The notion widely held today that corporations are private enterprises
would have appeared nonsensical to any American up to the end of the 19th cen-
tury. Corporations under the British monarchy were formed to promote the in-
terests of the monarchy, and they were held on a short leash. Many of the original
American colonies, such as the Massachusetts Bay Company, were in fact British
178 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION

corporations chartered to stake claims in the New World. After the American Rev-
olution, corporations were chartered by the American states in the interests of their
citizenry, which at the time was limited to White, propertied males.
At least legally, then, corporations were public institutions created by special
charters of incorporation granted by state legislatures to serve the common good.
Although many corporations chartered to build such things as canals or colleges
also created wealth for individuals, the primary function of the corporation was
to serve the public interest. People, through their legislature, retained sovereignty
over corporations, and legislatures dictated rules for “issuing stock, for shareholder
voting, for obtaining corporate information, for paying dividends and keeping re-
cords. They limited capitalization, debts, landholdings, and sometimes profits”
(Grossman & Adams, 1995, cited in Derber, 1998, p. 124).
However, popular sovereignty and legislative control over corporations began
to unravel during the late 19th century. The Fourteenth Amendment of the U.S.
Constitution, created to protect the equal rights of freed slaves, was used as a legal
tool to provide corporations with the legal rights of a person. Much like today,
conservative judges during the Gilded Age of the early 20th century were cynically
allied with powerful corporate friends. These judges and corporate leaders colluded
to turn public control over corporations into a violation of the Fourteenth Amend-
ment, which holds that no state “shall deprive any person of life, liberty, or prop-
erty, without due process of law.” Thus, the courts of the Gilded Age broke with
the state grant theory of public accountability over corporations and supported in-
stead a conception of corporations as a voluntary contract among private people. In
this way, a public institution, created and controlled by a sovereign people, became
a private institution or “enterprise” whose existence was independent of the state
and largely immune from public accountability.
More recently, under the court case, Citizens United, courts have used the First
Amendment to the Constitution to view massive corporate contributions to polit-
ical campaigns as an expression of free speech, thus supporting the notion that a
corporation is the equivalent of a human being under the law. Also, corporations are
amassing power globally, and in many cases, they can sue countries that put laws in
place that they don’t like. This occurs through Investor-state dispute settlement pro-
visions that are featured in many trade agreements, including the North American
Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), nine U.S.-E.U. bilateral investment treaties, and
the ill-fated Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) (Perez-Rocha, 2014, December 3).
What is perhaps even more remarkable is that this history of the shift of cor-
porations from publicly accountable, chartered enterprises to private enterprises is
virtually unknown among the general public in the United States. Such accounts
do not appear in high school history texts, nor are they taught in colleges of educa-
tion, in spite of the current attempts to privatize public schools.
Why should we care whether a corporation is state-controlled or not? This
question goes to the heart of the debate about public school privatization. What are
public institutions, and what makes them different from private ones? Increasingly,
corporations are taking over many public functions and heavily impacting pub-
lic policy. For instance, corporations affect political outcomes with their campaign
 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION 179

contributions and lobbyists. Today, out of the 100 organizations that spend the
most on lobbying, ninety-five represent businesses. The largest companies have
upward of 100 lobbyists representing them (Drutman, 2015). These lobbyists were
largely responsible for the 2017 tax law that reduced corporate taxes from 35% to
21% (down from 52% in the 1960s). They claimed that the 35% statutory tax rate
on U.S. corporations was the highest in the world, and that cutting corporate taxes
would create new jobs, but neither of these claims is actually supported by evidence.
While the corporate statutory tax rate is 35%, the effective tax rate, once loopholes
and other diversions are accounted for, is only half that amount, which is in line
with what corporations pay in other comparable countries. Bevins and Blair (2017,
May 9) further argue that

economic theory and data do not support the idea that cutting these rates would
encourage further investment in the U.S. or benefit Americans in general; we
find that such cuts would primarily benefit a small number of high-income
capital owners while increasing the regressivity of the tax system overall.
(Paragraph 2)

But it gets worse. Through the American Legislative Exchange Council (ALEC),
which we described in Chapter 3, corporate leaders and legislators virtually cow-
rite model bills for legislators to introduce pro-corporate laws in State legislatures
(Anderson & Donchik, 2016). Many see the growing economic influence of cor-
porations and their control of legislatures and major media as a direct threat to
American democracy.
The issue of whether we insist on being citizens instead of consumers goes to
the heart of why public schools—with all of their many imperfections—must be
defended if we want to claim to be citizens in a democracy. Public schooling and
teachers in the U.S. have been successfully undermined by corporate leaders and the
think tanks they fund, and in the process, they have diminished our trust in public
institutions. There is much evidence that countries with a strong public ethos and
social trust in public institutions are also successful in other areas including levels of
prosperity, equality, and happiness (Wilkinson & Pickett, 2010). Using Finland as an
example, Pasi Sahlberg (2007) discusses good governance and why it makes sense to
cultivate professional trust instead of putting in place policies like high-stakes testing
that send a message to teachers that they are not trusted professionally.

The culture of trust can only flourish in an environment that is built upon good
governance and close-to-zero corruption. Tellingly, Finland also performs well
in international good-governance rankings. Public institutions generally enjoy
high public trust and regard in Finland. Trusting schools and teachers is there-
fore a natural consequence of a generally well-functioning civil society. Hon-
esty and trust, as Lewis (2005) observes, are often seen as among the most basic
values and the building blocks of Finnish society (p. 157). Finland has many
successful private corporations, but it demonstrates the extent to which a strong
private sector and public sector can co-exist.
180 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION

It has taken the U.S. system of governance many decades to overcome political
corruption and the nepotism that reigned in education when principalships were
political appointments (Teachout, 2014). By the post-WWII years, however, our
public institutions were highly trusted and regarded by most Americans. People
reported liking their public schools; post offices were trusted to deliver the mail
and packages; NASA put rockets into outer space; public sector professionals were
respected as public servants; National parks were heavily visited and well run, as
were V.A. hospitals (Goodsell, 2004).
It is also true that in a country that was founded by propertied White men who
disenfranchised women, nonwhites, and the poor, we have sometimes given our
public institutions far more trust than they deserve (see Rothstein, 2017). And yet,
over time and through democratic social movements, we have struggled to expand
social justice. While our public schools are segregated by race and class, they are also
the spaces in which, at least at the discursive level, children are exposed to ideals of
gender and racial equality, discourses they may be less likely to encounter at home,
in the media or in many religious institutions.
Today, the public sector is being degraded and diminished. Public sector
professionals do not feel respected and NPM’s teacher-proof reforms show little
respect for their judgment. These reforms, including high-stakes testing and the
deregulation of charter schools, have led to an increase in cheating, corruption, and
scandal (Calefati, 2016; Center for Popular Democracy, 2017, May). Even those
democratic, public spaces, like school boards have become victims of corporate
control. Not only is their adherence to political democracy attacked ideologically
as less efficient than school choice and vouchers (Chubb & Moe, 1990), they are
seen as an obstacle to education profit-seeking. Elected school boards have been
a thorn in the side of corporations trying to get lucrative contracts. According to
Lafer (2014),

With charter schools, tech companies can cut a deal with a single executive
covering hundreds of schools, and the product choice may reflect financial
rather than pedagogical criteria. By contrast, public-school curricula are set
by officials who are accountable to a locally elected board prohibited from any
financial relationship with vendors. As Hastings explains, “school districts [are
hard] to sell to because [they] are really reacting to voter forces more than to
market forces.”
(Paragraph 18)

The corporate solution is to take over the school boards. Increasingly, money from
wealthy individuals and corporations is outspending beleaguered teachers’ unions
and winning school board elections. Los Angeles’s 2017 school board election was
the most expensive on record. Pro-charter organizations spent $9,695,351 million
compared to $5,221,273 of union money, resulting in a majority of board members
who are pro-charter and anti-union (Blume & Poston, 2017, May 21). This influx
of hedge fund and corporate money into school board elections is occurring across
the country.
 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION 181

A CAMPAIGN TO DEGRADE THE PUBLIC

While public schools do indeed have many imperfections, they are not “broken”;
rather, they have steadily improved over that last 100 years. As Berliner and Biddle
(1995) argued, the crisis of our public schools’ system is not its quality, it is its
inequality. Low-poverty and unionized states, like Massachusetts, compare favora-
bly with top-ranked countries globally. Our education system compares poorly in
general because our levels of inequality and our rates of poverty are higher than
countries in Europe and Asia that outperform us. Calls to “nuke” the system, tear
it down, disrupt it, and start from scratch are irresponsibly repeated by those who
want to privatize the education system. This mantra has been repeated so often that
it has passed into “common sense,” even though Americans consistently report
high marks for their own public schools.
According to the Gallup Poll, 75% of Americans are happy with their children’s
public school, and that percent has never fallen below 68% since 1999. Yet 53% of
Americans are dissatisfied with the quality of education children receive in the U.S.
overall (Huffington Post, 2012). Gallup speculates that this may be the case be-
cause of media reports that the U.S. does not measure up in international compari-
sons of education achievement scores. And yet, a recently released United Nations
International Children’s Emergency Fund (UNICEF) Report Card (Hudson &
Kuhner, 2016) suggests that the problem is less our public schools than our levels
of inequality. The report card ranks developed countries on the size of their relative
income gap. “This measure of bottom-end inequality captures how far the poorest
children are being allowed to fall behind the ‘average’ child in each country” (p. 4).
The U.S. ranks in the bottom third of developed countries, behind Turkey and
Estonia.
Since Ronald Reagan declared “government is not the solution, it’s the
problem,” there has been a decades-old onslaught, led by the corporate sector
in alliance with both Republican and Democratic administrations. The Clinton
administration deregulated the banks, contributing to the 2008 economic crisis,
and the Obama administration bailed them out and failed to hold any of them
accountable (Elsinger, 2017). Whereas accountability seems in short supply on
Wall Street, a moral panic has been constructed around the lack of accountability
of our teachers and principals. A decades-long campaign has promoted the general
common sense that the private sector can do no wrong and the public sector can
do no good.
Yet defending public schools means acknowledging the system’s accomplish-
ments while at the same time acknowledging that our public schools have been
complicit in reproducing inequalities by financing schools through property taxes
and devaluing certain forms of social and cultural capital. These are the areas that
need reform. Yet privatization and choice have only exacerbated these tendencies
since choice will always favor those with the economic, social, and cultural capital
to exercise it. In fact, today, schools are often more segregated than the neighbor-
hoods they are located in (Hemphill & Mader, 2015). This suggests that if parents
are dissatisfied with their neighborhood schools, they can vote with their feet and
182 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION

send their children to public gifted programs, schools of choice, charter schools, or
private schools. This is particularly the case in gentrifying neighborhoods. While
we are conditioned to think that choice is always an unmitigated good, it has also
contributed to schools highly segregated by class and race (Orfield & Frankenberg,
2014; Reardon, 2013).

CONCLUSION

All three of the issues addressed in this chapter have long been intractable problems
for public schools in the U.S. We have not figured out how to effectively create
mechanisms for widespread participation by multiple constituencies. As Malen and
Ogawa (1988) and subsequent studies have shown, school-based participation is
difficult to achieve and sustain. School boards represent a democratic space but
have tended historically to be controlled by elites, a trend that continues with heavy
corporate funding of school board elections (Blume & Poston, 2017, May 21).
While progress has been made over the years in public schools through inclu-
sionary polices for disabled students and bilingual education, schools still reflect
the class and racial segregation we tolerate in the U.S. In addition, well-funded
campaigns to degrade public schools, teachers, and their unions have led to dimin-
ished public trust in our democratic institutions. As educators, our role is to educate
the public about the trade-offs involved in privatizing our schools and our policy
process. As our skewed economy produces more and more millionaires and billion-
aires who can flood our political system with money, educators will have to take
their role as advocates for public education more seriously. But to be credible, the
advocacy will need to be for more democratic schools, more democratic teachers’
unions, and more community engagement.
The reformed teachers’ union in Chicago provides an example. Rather than
merely fight for bread-and-butter issues for teachers, they reached out to commu-
nity organizations to build alliances. When they had to go on strike, the commu-
nity supported them and their struggle against corporate reforms that closed their
schools and provided a test-driven education for their children. Ultimately, the goal
must be to win back an authentic democracy that is threatened by corporate agendas
and a neoconservative backlash that wants to take education and the country back to
a pre-civil rights time few want to revisit.

END-OF-CHAPTER QUESTIONS
1. How democratic is the organization you work in? Use Table 8.1 to analyze how
authentic participation is in your organization. If you don’t work in an organi-
zation, you can use any other organization you are familiar with.
2. Analyze your own educational history and be prepared to discuss the exchange
value of the cultural, social, and economic capital of you and your family. Were
you able to “cash in” on it educationally, or did it have a low-exchange value?
 IN PURSUIT OF DEMOCRATIC EDUCATION 183

3. Think of examples in which you think the private sector has outperformed the
public sector. Think of examples in which you think the public sector has out-
performed the private sector. Why is it important that our military, our prisons,
our schools, our social services, and our government remain public?

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CHAPTER 9

Building Power
Community Organizing, Student
Empowerment, and Public Accountability

Our critical policy analysis of corporate-funded policy networks and their success
at imposing neoliberal policies at the state, local, and federal levels may have the
unintended consequence of producing an overwhelming sense of despair or cyn-
icism. Also, some may feel that we have been overly critical of such reforms as
high-stakes accountability or charter schools. These are fair questions to raise and
there is room for disagreement on all of these issues as long as the disagreements are
based on evidence. But depressing or not, educators need to know what they are up
against if they are to lead a social movement to reappropriate public schooling that
is equitable and democratic. It is true that powerful interests with corporate money
have amassed great power in the policy arena, but these “Astroturf ” or “grasstops”
organizations are no match for powerful grassroots social movements composed
of educators, parents, citizens, and students. In this chapter, we will focus not only
on critical policy analysis, as we have in previous chapters, but also on critical policy
praxis, that is, how policy activism from the ground up helps to both create change
and inform policy analysis.
There is good news in this regard. While corporations and often well-intended,
but misinformed billionaires can outspend educators, there are numerous ex-
amples of communities coming together to defend a democratic vision of public
schooling. To take just one relatively recent example, in 2017, after sixteen years
of state control, the Philadelphia schools took back control and will be governed
by a local school board. While teachers and the teachers’ union were central figures
in the struggle, a much broader coalition formed to elect a progressive mayor of
Philadelphia and governor of Pennsylvania. They also elected civil rights lawyer,
Larry Krasner, as the district attorney for Philadelphia. Helen Gym, longtime com-
munity activist and now a Philadelphia Council Member, describes how the move-
ment in Philadelphia evolved.
192 BUILDING POWER

You know, one of the best things about the pushback around public education,
you know, the state takeover of public education, the privatization of public
education, is that eventually, over a period of time, because so many of us were
coming together from different places—we were unifying around a broad-
based movement around our public schools—we were really talking about our
children, our neighborhoods, our families and the city. So, it became much big-
ger than an education fight. It actually became very much a unifying force that
pulled together grassroots activists that were involved with youth justice work,
that had been involved with the criminal justice system, that were looking at
questions about politics and integrity, that were educators, of course, but were
fundamentally engaged with a lot of deep-seated, deep-rooted issues in our city,
including immigrants, sanctuary cities, the fight for—you know, the pushback
against cutting efforts at anti-poverty programs. So, all of these forces came
together and became this really broad-based movement.
In particular, the education movement and the criminal justice movement
so closely align together, because so many of our young people are involved in
dysfunctional systems. So, we’ve got one out of five high school students who
are either involved in the criminal justice or DHS, our Department of Human
Services, and that requires us to think very differently. So when we’re talking
about our public schools, and if people come in and give us solutions that only
talk about increasing test scores or cutting away extraneous services, like coun-
selors and nurses or after-school programs or support services, because they’re
not focused in on the basics that would allow them to better pass, you know, a
test score that’s crafted out of Princeton Review or out of K12 or one of these
other types of multinational companies, then parents are going to push back.
We’re going to talk about the realities of what our young people live with, are
living with today. We’re going to talk about the reality of access to services and
support services in our city that make a huge difference in changing young
people’s lives. So this, fundamentally, became much bigger than an education
movement.
(Democracy Now, 2017, December 13)

While we have documented setbacks, including corporate money influencing

school board elections, there are also plenty of examples of victories when people
are organized to defend their schools and communities.

CPA AS CRITICAL POLICY PRAXIS

In her book Radical Possibilities, the late Jean Anyon (2014) suggested that educa-
tors might potentially represent the center of a social movement that insists on ad-
dressing not just the educational policies that lead to educational underachievement
but also the broader social policies that create the larger social conditions that lead
to underachievement. Her prediction of a social movement with education at its
core is being born out in city after city, as community organizers, activist unions,
 BUILDING POWER 193

and grassroots advocacy organizations form coalitions across sectors to push back
against the influence of corporations and wealthy individuals attempting to privat-
ize education.
Anyon’s call for action emphasized the following tenets: (1) Education research-
ers and activists could not merely study or advocate around education alone. As we have
emphasized throughout this book, education policies are intimately linked to
social policies and cannot be disentangled. Furthermore, within the public sector,
teachers, nurses, doctors, social workers, and police officers are all working under
neoliberal and New Public Management regimes (Anderson & Cohen, 2018).
They have a common interest but are too often isolated into academic and activ-
ist silos. (2) We need academics to help us understand underlying causes and policy actors
behind the symptoms that we experience on a daily basis, but we also need alliances between
academics and activists, many of whom are education practitioners (Collins & Bilge, 2016).
This does not always mean that academics or school practitioners have to become
activists themselves, though some might, but rather that they work together with
activist-led organizations to develop the kind of policy knowledge and language
that are needed by social movements attempting to bring about change (Dumas &
Anderson, 2014).
While critical policy analysis provides tools to reframe, study, and analyze policies,
teachers, counselors, leaders, or academics today inhabit workplaces that are being
rapidly restructured around them by neoliberal policies. This means that analysis
and actions to counter neoliberal policies have to be engaged at the same time and
inform each other. This requires greater attention to critical policy praxis. Collins and
Bilge (2016) put it this way:

A praxis perspective does not merely apply scholarly knowledge to a social

problem or set of experiences but rather uses the knowledge learned within
everyday life to reflect on those experiences as well as on scholarly knowledge.
This praxis perspective does not separate scholarship from practice, with schol-
arship providing theories and frameworks, and practice relegated to people who
apply those ideas to real-life settings or to real-life problems. Instead, this set of
concerns sees both scholarship and practice as intimately linked and mutually
informing each other, rejecting views that see theory as superior to practice.
(p. 42)

Increasingly, educational practitioners themselves are demanding that they be in-

cluded at all stages of policy development. The notion of participatory policymaking
and participatory action research is gaining some traction, especially in fields like
public health (Minkler & Wallerstein, 2003), international development (Jordan &
Kapoor, 2009), and youth development (Ginwright, Noguera, & Cammarota,
2006). For instance, we are seeing teachers organizing their own critiques of policy
though organizations such as Teachers Unite, NYC (http://www.teachersunite.net/),
and Teachers for social justice, Chicago (http://www.teachersforjustice.org/). Other grassroots
organizations led by community activists, teachers, and academics include Network
for Public Education (NPE), Badass Teachers Association, Fair test (The National Center
194 BUILDING POWER

for Fair and Open Testing), Save our Schools, United Opt Out (The Movement to
End Corporate Education Reform), Rethinking Schools, and Alliance for Quality Edu-
cation (New York).
In an attempt to provide this practitioner perspective, we have provided
throughout the book portraits of educational practitioner/activists who have en-
gaged in critical policy praxis as well as on the ground examples of what this looks
like in schools. Here, we present an example of Marcus Foster, an educator who, as
a teacher, principal, and superintendent, engaged in critical policy praxis through-
out his career.
Marcus Foster was an African American school leader in the 1960s and early
1970s, best known as principal of Simon Gratz High School in Philadelphia
and superintendent of Oakland, California. Foster illustrates the raw courage
required of leaders who choose to promote democracy and social justice and
the risk-taking this role requires. While, in reality, few educational leaders will
risk death, Foster’s tragic story highlights the importance of the work of school
leaders and the impact they can have when they harness the power of their com-
munities. In the political turmoil of that period, Marcus Foster was viewed as too
radical by some but not radical enough by some others. The story of this coura-
geous school leader did not have a happy ending. He was murdered in Oakland
by members of the extremist Symbionese Liberation Army, better known for
their abduction of heiress Patty Hearst. John Spencer has written a history of
Foster’s professional life in: In the Crossfire: Marcus Foster and the Troubled History
of American School Reform.
Foster’s leadership provides a counterpoint to the contemporary managerial
principal. Based on the micropolitical matrix in Chapter 5, he would be considered
an empowering principal—both transformative and democratic in his approach.
Back in 1971, he advocated for something he called “new leadership.” Unlike the
“new professional” we described in Chapter 7, he saw principals as catalysts to em-
power those around them to engage in not just leadership but also advocacy for
children and families. Rather than turn to business leaders as models, Foster viewed
African American clergy as providing a more appropriate model.

Ours is a time that requires leadership, not just administration. New ground
will be broken by teachers, parents, community people, as well as by principals
and others up the line. Fortunately, we can find some excellent examples of
this “new leadership” in other realms of endeavor. I am thinking particularly
of the clergymen (sic.) who, in the last two decades [1950s and 1960s] have
transformed their roles by extending the power of their faith beyond the church
walls. Martin Luther King, Jr. preached love and hope as he marched through
Southern towns. Father Groppi led his congregation in Midwest urban centers.
These men came to believe that a meaningful ministry required them to bring
religion to the places it was needed. It went beyond praying. When political
action was needed to move the spirit, they engaged in politics. When it was eco-
nomics, as in the case of Rev. Leon Sullivan, who founded the Opportunities
Industrialization Centers, the preaching led to jobs.
 BUILDING POWER 195

The kind of flexibility that characterized these leader-ministers has got to be

built into our roles as leader-educators. In my own career, I have sometimes
played the salesman, the community organizer, the economist, the fund-raiser,
and the speechmaker. One incident reported in the next chapter describes my
role as producer of a guerrilla-theater play. I am not saying that everyone involved
in education has to be a one-man band. What is important is that one comes to
accept the diversity of tasks needed to make education work. One has to be open
to working with people doing these unexpected things. This obviously is a very
different attitude from sitting back while waiting for outsiders to get the job done.
(Foster, 1971, 17–18)

There is a long tradition among African American teachers and leaders of viewing
their work as educators as part of a larger civil rights movement (Dillard, 1995;
Johnson, 2017; Tillman, 2004; Walker, 2005) African American principals like
Marcus Foster often found themselves promoted to under resourced urban schools
and districts that served low-income, children of color. This was often done as a
symbolic gesture to the community in lieu of addressing serious resource inequal-
ities between Black and White communities. For instance, at Gratz High School,
Foster was brought in to replace a White principal who was under attack from
community activists.
While Marcus Foster understood and fought structural forms of oppression, he
had no patience for teachers and principals who removed the onus on them to im-
prove education by merely pointing a finger at unjust laws or poverty. But he didn’t
think the answer was to pressure them with punishments and humiliation or testing
regimes. On the contrary, he saw teachers beaten down by bureaucracy and a “Don’t
rock the boat” mentality. His solution was not to gut the system of democratic partic-
ipation, retool school leaders into entrepreneurs, and introduce market forces. In his
initial speech as the new Oakland superintendent, he tried to set up a new incentive
system based not on fear of being punished for failure but on encouraging risk-taking
and mobilizing communities to demand more from their schools.

Another thing we want to do in Oakland is to send out a different signal about

the reward system. In most bureaucracies, those who can keep their departments
cool and running smoothly usually win the praise. Such systems work for those
who get along with their immediate superiors. The watchword is: don’t let an-
ything exciting happen, don’t do anything that might lead to negative publicity.
We are going to do it another way in Oakland. The reward system will work
for those who dare to take risks. There may be failures, but if everything we
do meets with success, we may not be reaching far enough beyond our grasp.
We need to take risks even if turmoil is sometimes the result—as may happen
when some of you try to establish meaningful relationships with your commu-
nity. But given the insipidness of so many institutions, perhaps a little turmoil
is not a bad thing … Dare to be fluid, dare to be potent, dare to be powerful in
bringing about the changes we need.
(pp. 156–157)
196 BUILDING POWER

Although Foster was himself an extraordinary and charismatic leader, his goal
was to make leaders of others: teachers, students, and communities. His vision
was a daring one, not limited to the kinds of platitudes one often finds in school
mission statements. He had his pulse on the day-to-day operation of his school
or district but always with his eye on another horizon. He was not interested so
much in keeping control of his constituencies, as in empowering them. What
would Marcus Foster say were he to return today to see our segregated, low-
income urban high schools? What would he make of their metal detectors, their
security cameras, and their roving police officers and military recruiters? He
would likely not be totally surprised, but he would also likely ferret out those
signs of hope in a growing community organizing and student activist move-
ment. See Box 9.1 for a more contemporary example of courageous leadership
by superintendent John Kuhn who wrote a protest letter to Texas legislators.

BOX 9.1 JOHN K UHN L E T T ER, SUPERIN T ENDEN T OF MINER A L W EL L S INDEPENDEN T

SC HOOL DIS T RIC T, T E X AS

This is an open letter issued by John Kuhn, Who at the time was superinten-
dent of the Perrin-Whitt Consolidated Independent School District in Texas.
Addressed to Texas legislators, this plea for help is modeled on the famous
letter that William Barret Travis sent from the Alamo right before it fell in 1836.
Kuhn refers to plans by Texas Gov. Rick Perry to cut billions of dollars from
public school funding.

From: John Kuhn, Superintendent, Perrin-Whitt CISD

To: Senator Estes, Representative Hardcastle, Representative Keffer, and

Representative King during these grave times:

Gentlemen,

I am besieged, by a hundred or more of the legislators under Rick Perry. I have

sustained a continual bombardment of increased high-stakes testing and
accountability-related bureaucracy and a cannonade of gross underfunding for
10 years at least and have lost several good men and women. The ruling party
has demanded another round of pay cuts and furloughs, while the school-
house be put to the sword and our children’s lunch money be taken in order to
keep taxes low for big business. I am answering the demand with a (figurative)
cannon shot, and the Texas flag still waves proudly from our flagpole. I shall
never surrender the fight for the children of Perrin.

Then, I call on you my legislators in the name of Liberty, of patriotism &

everything dear to the American character, to come to our aid, with all dispatch.
The enemy of public schools is declaring that spending on a shiny new
 BUILDING POWER 197

high-stakes testing system is “non-negotiable”; that, in essence, we must

save the test but not the teachers. The enemy of public schools is saying that
Texas lawmakers won’t raise 1 penny in taxes in order to save our schools.

If this call is neglected, I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible

and fight for the kids in these classrooms like an educator who never forgets
what is due to his own honor & that of his community. Make education a
priority!

With all due respect and urgency,

John Kuhn
Superintendent
Perrin-Whitt CISD

See John Kuhn on You Tube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=64B5kv

JDcrY

BUILDING POWER: FROM DATA-DRIVEN TO

DEMOCRACY-DRIVEN DECISION-MAKING

Distributing leadership beyond the school may seem impractical given that the
principal’s role expectation has traditionally been to buffer teachers from parents
and keep the community at arm’s length (Driscoll, 1998). Distributing any sig-
nificant leadership to students also tends to come up against norms of hierarchy
and control. However, if we look at the progress that has been made in shifting
teacher culture from one of isolation to one of visiting each other’s classrooms
and engaging in learning communities, it seems probable that we might shift a
school culture that keeps parents and communities at arm’s length to one of school-
community collaboration. There is a growing recognition that in order to have
successful schools, we need to build professional capacity within the schools, but
we also need to build greater capacity in communities—however this is defined—
so that children come to school ready to learn and so that communities can hold
their schools accountable in ways that do not distort the education of their children
the way high-stakes testing does (Gold, Simon, & Brown, 2004; Green, 2015; Ishi-
maru, 2014; Khalifa, 2012).
A community-based approach to accountability requires a shift from school-
centric notions of accountability to community-centric ones (Shutz, 2006).
Community-centric accountability raises questions such as: How well is the school
meeting the needs of this community? Does the school engage in culturally re-
sponsive practices? Does the school scaffold onto the home learning styles and
“funds of knowledge” (Gonzalez, Moll, & Amanti, 2005) that students bring to the
school? To what extent are school professionals seeing assets in a community, not
198 BUILDING POWER

just deficits (Valenzuela, 1999)? This would mean that school leaders should not
solely rely on top-down, vertical accountability but should also cultivate internal
accountability as well as horizontal accountability from the community—a kind of
democracy-driven decision-making. This horizontal or “public” accountability can also
become a power base for the principal to defend community priorities.
While some see parent choice of schools as a community-centric approach to
accountability, we have argued that consumerism represents a retreat from politi-
cal democracy. Within a community-centric framework, leaders recognize that re-
lationships, power-sharing, social trust, and active engagement are the substance
of accountability. Understanding schools as embedded in community means that
building professional capacity within schools also requires building community ca-
pacity and relationships beyond the school. Of course, this is easier said than done,
but it has been done by some school and district leaders such as Leonard Covello
(Johanek & Puckett, 2006), Marcus Foster (Spencer, 2014), Tamara Contreras (see
page 27), Jamaal Bowman (see page 176), and many others.
One reason our thinking about both building professional capacity and dem-
ocratic participation gets muddled is that we tend to conflate several different
traditions of shared decision-making. Table 9.1 provides a summary of three
traditions, which would perhaps be better represented as a Venn diagram, since
they do overlap in some areas, and ultimately each has some aspect to contrib-
ute to school improvement. Currently, those approaches influenced by business,
what we call here data-driven decision-making, have gained dominance, co-opting
the others and introducing what some call new forms of managerialism into the
public sector.
The first tradition in Table 9.1 comes from cognitive and social psychology
and promotes the notions of communities of practice and professional learning
communities (PLCs). The PLC tradition attempts to distribute leadership and

Table 9.1 Traditions of School-Based Management

Tradition Goals of Inquiry Theoretical Foundations

Professional learning Capacity-building Distributed cognition

communities Professional development Communities of practice
Organizational development Organizational learning
Data-driven decision- Raise productivity Market/rational choice
making (“Quality Work redesign theory
Circles”) Continuous improvement Total quality management;
Profit for vendors New public
management; Neo-
classical economics
(Freidman)
Participatory action Social justice advocacy Participatory research
research Community schools (Freire)
Critical consciousness Community organizing
Problem-posing Democratic and critical
Theories
Critical pedagogies
 BUILDING POWER 199

learning across roles within schools. Theories of situated learning, distributed

cognition, activity theory, and other sociocultural approaches to cognition showed
great potential to help us understand how learning occurs among profession-
als (Lave, 1988; Rogoff, 1990) and between schools and communities (Gonza-
lez et al., 2005)1. These theoretical approaches were aimed at professional capacity
building, collaborative reflection and inquiry, and professional and organizational
development. The PLC tradition was popular during the 1980s and 1990s as
school reform focused on teacher professionalization and the life world of schools
(Habermas, 1987; Sergiovanni, 1999). The PLC approach also overlapped with
the teacher-as-researcher movement, which tended to see teachers as ethnogra-
phers of their classrooms and as reflective practitioners engaging in systematic
and intentional cycles of data gathering and reflection (Cochran-Smith & Lytle,
2009; Schon, 1984). While schools still use the language of PLCs, they have largely
become more like the second tradition in Table 9.1, data-driven decision-making, in
which data and spreadsheets too often stand in for genuine dialogue and inquiry
(Cochran-Smith & Lytle, 2009).
The second tradition in Table 9.1 comes from business, specifically the work of
Deming (1986) and what his followers call total quality management, which became
popular in education in the 1980s. The tradition is largely driving school-based
management and inquiry today. It is informed by theoretical frameworks from
business and management studies focusing on the use of decision-making teams,
data utilization, work redesign (Mayrowetz, Murphy, Louis, & Smylie, 2007), and
local autonomy to increase production (Shipps, 2012). Popular business notions
like statistical control of product quality, continuous improvement, quality circles,
and teaming helped to legitimate inquiry teams and data warehousing in schools
and other technologies that many would claim were inappropriate to the purposes
of education (Cuban, 2004). The notion that captured the attention of some edu-
cators was the idea of “quality circles” and the inquiry cycles of plan, act, observe,
and reflect, which looked superficially like action research. At its best, it promoted
a form of organizational learning and data analysis that improved business produc-
tivity (Argyris & Schon, 1978; Whyte, 1990). But its use in education has largely
created a culture of quantification and contrived collegiality (Hargreaves, 1994).
A third tradition is informed by participatory action research, direct democ-
racy, critical dialogue, and community organizing (Barber, 2004; Cammarota &
Fine, 2008; Freire, 1970; Ishimaru, 2014; Shirley, 1997). Shutz (2006) argues that
school-centric attempts at community involvement have largely failed and that
more community-centric approaches are needed. Participatory action research includes
the central idea of praxis but insists on a participatory stance in which inquiry is
done with and not on or for participants (e.g. students, teachers, parents, commu-
nities, etc.). The notion of participatory policymaking and participatory policy re-
search is gaining some traction, especially in fields like public health (Minkler &
Wallerstein, 2003), international development (Kapoor & Jordan, 2009), and youth
development (Ginwright et al., 2006). Some education researchers are also building
participatory projects with communities and practitioners in order to engage in criti-
cal policy praxis. As noted earlier, the notion of praxis creates a dialogical relationship
200 BUILDING POWER

between theory and practice and creates conditions for combining theory and re-
search with the experiences of those who enact policies in schools and communities
(Drame & Irby, 2015; Gonzalez et al., 2007; Shdaimah et al., 2009).
There are historical examples of this approach from Leonard Cavello’s
community-based approach (Johanek & Puckett, 2006) to the Freedom Schools
and their role in the Civil Rights Movement (Payne, 1995/2007). Building com-
munity capacity and power is a goal of community organizing and it has been suc-
cessfully used to leverage approaches of school reform that respond to community
needs (Rogers & Terriquez, 2009; Shirley, 1997; Warren & Mapp, 2011). Gold et al.
(2004) view building community capacity and power through grassroots leadership
development as creating a form of public accountability for schools and districts.
Again, the point is not that principals should be trained as community organizers
but that principals can make links to organizers and their communities to promote
a balanced approach to improving the education of their students in ways commu-
nities feel are important (Green, 2015; Ishimaru, 2014; Khalifa, 2012).
Clearly, the three traditions described earlier have a family resemblance and
overlap in significant ways. The point is not to pit these approaches against each
other but rather to help educators be more explicit about the traditions they are
working out of. Technical problems need to be solved, and sometimes quantifi-
cation and spreadsheets are the best way forward. This can be true in helping to
track and document unequal graduation rates, referrals to special education, and
suspension data. Schools also need to build professional capacity. PLCs have chal-
lenged teacher isolation and promoted an important shift in school cultures in
many schools. However, there is also a long history of conflict between schools and
communities—especially low-income communities that neither spreadsheets nor
PLCs have effectively addressed (Carpenter, 2015; Driscoll, 1998; Podair, 2002).
While a community-based, participatory stance is better positioned to address
these issues of power, quantification and spreadsheets may be needed as principals
work with communities to expose inequities (Johnson & Avelar La Salle, 2010).
Meanwhile, professional capacity needs to be nurtured through PLCs to build the
necessary skills to address the inequities that are exposed.
The division between schools and communities has a long history (Podair, 2004)
but has become more pronounced in many paternalistic “no excuses” approaches
to schooling—particularly many urban charter schools that equate communities
with street culture and attempt to “make over” students with “middle class values”
and a “Protestant ethic” (Whitman, 2008). Such schools, mostly franchise charter
schools, like Uncommon Schools, KIPP, Achievement First, etc., keep parents and
the community at arm’s length and eschew the language of culturally responsive or
multicultural education. From the perspective of some urban residents, this may
be appealing since many poor communities, divested of jobs and infrastructure, are
living at a survival level in which basic issues of strictness, discipline, and safety are
viewed as paramount (Wilson, 2009). McDermott and Nygreen (2013) argue that
“new paternalism appeals to a wide range of diverse political constituencies; how-
ever, idealized media accounts of these schools likely overestimate their power to
close achievement gaps and produce mobility for urban youth” (p. 84).
 BUILDING POWER 201

Empowering Students: Creating Third Spaces in Education

We began this chapter with a community victory as Philadelphians organized to
regain democratic control over their school district. Another victory of student and
community organizing occurred in Arizona, as a 2010 ban on a Mexican-American
Studies (MAS) program in the district of Tucson was overturned. In response to a
lawsuit brought by students and parents, Judge A. Wallace Tashima said that the ban
was motivated by racial discrimination and violated students’ constitutional rights.
The MAS program in Tucson had carefully documented its students’ academic
success and was featured in the documentary film Precious Knowledge. The program
began in 1998 with a few courses and grew to 43 classes, serving 1,500 students in
elementary, middle, and high school in Tucson. The purpose of the program was
to create a student community centered around culturally relevant learning with
Mexican-American history as a central theme. Another goal was to develop critical
consciousness and critical thinking to empower students by helping them develop
positive identities leading to growing self-confidence and better academic results.
This program represents a form of student empowerment that does not rely on
paternalistic, boot camp models that teach students obedience and provide a test-
driven education. While this humanistic space was created within a public school
district, the conservative Arizona context and its focus on Mexican-American or
Chicana/o history ultimately led to its being closed down.
Dominant institutions have self-protective responses that organizational the-
orists call “dynamic conservatism” (Ansell, Boin, & Farjoun, 2015). Alternative
spaces can be opened up, but if those spaces are not congruent with the dominant
culture of the organization or its institutional environment, they are often eventu-
ally closed up. It is sometimes easier to open up these spaces in elite private schools
where a critical approach to education is seen as less threatening, although even
there, they may be closed down if they become controversial (Herr, 1999).
Public schools have never been ideal spaces for humanistic education, in part
because of the ways they evolved, first through what Callahan (1962) describes
as the “cult of efficiency” promoted by early 20th-century business leaders and
more recently by NPM, in which the efficient factory model has evolved into test-
driven reforms emphasizing efficiency, accountability, and choice. This focus has
eliminated all goals of schooling except economic ones, as discussed in Chapter 2.
But most alternatives to public schools are either progressive private schools that
are restricted to those who can afford them or charter schools, which have not
lived up to their original claims of incubating innovation (Lubienski, 2003; Preston,
Goldring, Berends, & Cannata, 2011). While some charter schools are innovative,
most are too often even more traditional and test-driven than the public schools.
While private schools may have more humanistic, progressive pedagogies, their
hidden curriculum is one of privilege and exclusion (Kenway & McCarthy, 2016).
The most interesting spaces in education today may be what some theorists call
“third spaces.” These spaces can appear for a time in public or charter schools, but
they tend to become a threat to the dominant reform model or the dynamic con-
servatism of the organization. Third spaces have traditionally emerged in “informal
education” settings that are either nonprofits or voluntary organizations, which are
202 BUILDING POWER

typically mission-driven (Rodriguez, 2015). Some examples of these spaces might

be after-school programs like Global Kids, Afro-centric Saturday schools, alternative
schools within public school districts, freedom schools during the civil rights move-
ment (Jackson & Howard, 2014), spaces created to support girl’s identities, such as
in a Ciudad Juarez high school described by Cervantes-Soon (2017), and “popular”
high schools in taken-over factories in Argentina (Mendez, 2015). The MAS pro-
gram in Tucson, described earlier, is an example of the creation of a third space.
Some third spaces are created for nondominant groups to explore their iden-
tities vis-à-vis the dominant culture, while others can be “contact zones” in which
youth who normally would not interact socially are brought together to build trust
(Torre & Fine, 2008). Gutierrez (2008) describes a summer program for low-
income and immigrant youth at UCLA that she calls a “collective third space, in
which students begin to reconceive who they are and what they might be able to
accomplish academically and beyond” (p. 148).
More specifically, Gutierrez (2008) describes what she terms “socio-critical
literacy” as

a historicizing literacy that privileges and is contingent upon students’ soci-

ohistorical lives, both proximally and distally. Thus, my work with youth from
nondominant communities has necessarily emphasized the development of lit-
eracies in which everyday and institutional literacies are reframed into powerful
literacies (Hamilton, 1997) oriented toward critical social thought. A distin-
guishing feature of sociocritical literacy is its attention to contradictions in and
between texts lived and studied, institutions (e.g., the classroom, the academy),
and sociocultural practices, locally experienced and historically influenced.
(p. 149)

In a cultural sense, third spaces represent hybrid spaces in which students are devel-
oping identities relating to their sociohistorical location in society. From a postcolo-
nial perspective, first space represents the original culture of home and community
(Bhabha, 2004). However, students from nondominant cultures must interact with
second space, which is the space of the dominant culture, which includes schools.
Many anthropologists and sociologists of education have documented over several
decades the dilemmas of identity this presents for students. Some succeed in devel-
oping healthy dual identities, but too many have internalized the negative messages
of “second space” dominant culture (Delpit, 1995; Mehan, Hubbard, & Villanueva,
1994; Nasir, McLaughlin, & Jones, 2009).
Third space, then, as Gutierrez (2008) elaborates, is a hybrid space in which
students can explore their identity negotiations from a sociohistorical perspective
that provides them with the tools to develop dual identities and to develop a criti-
cal consciousness that empowers them to not only survive individually within the
dominant culture but also become advocates for change (Stanton-Salazar, 2011).
Programs such as the one in Tucson or the one Gutierrez describes have docu-
mented their academic successes. It is their success in empowering youth through
helping them forge powerful identities that leads to their academic success.
 BUILDING POWER 203

This is a very different approach to educating low-income children of color than

the obedience, “boot camp” approach promoted by mostly White venture philan-
thropists and entrepreneurial charter school leaders.

A Third Space for Teachers

We end this chapter with a description of a third space for teachers, the New
Orleans New Teachers’ Roundtable (NTRT), as an illustration of what democratic
professionals might do in order to educate themselves about the communities they
work in. Our nation’s teaching force is 84% White, while the percent of nonwhite
students has risen above 50% (Hrabowski & Sanders, 2015, Spring). In many urban
areas, the percent of nonwhite students is far higher. This has created a massive
demographic gap in our teaching force. The percentage of males in general and
especially males of color also lags far behind. Given these demographics, White
teachers are often teaching almost exclusively students of color. This makes the
ongoing work of this teachers’ collective not only a form of resistance but also an
ongoing attempt by mostly White teachers to interrogate their motivations and how
they might develop more culturally responsive pedagogies.

B OX 9. 2 N E W T E AC H E R S’ RO U N D TA BL E ( N T R T )

Between 2005 and 2015 in post-Katrina New Orleans, charter schools replaced
the public school system staffed heavily with Teach for America (TFA) graduates
who were hired on at-will contracts with no job security and no union. These
teachers were largely White and idealistic believing that by teaching in low-
income New Orleans schools, they were promoting social justice. The after-
math of Hurricane Katrina made New Orleans a particularly sympathetic location
for young idealists. As these new TFAers flooded into New Orleans, they were
displacing Black teachers. Between 2005 and 2015, the number of Black
teachers went from 71% to 49% and certified teachers from 79% to 56%.
The Teachers’ Roundtable of New Orleans was founded by largely White,
TFA corps members who were beginning to question to what extent they were,
in fact, “doing good” in spite of their best intentions. They were “increasingly
wary of TFA, ‘no excuses’ charter schools, and the educational landscape of
New Orleans” (Sondel, 2017, p. 6). One of their goals was to interrogate their
own racism and challenge White supremacy in New Orleans. The NTRT is a
teacher-founded and teacher-driven organization that provides new teachers
the option of participating in a “supportive community where educators engage
in personal reflection and critical dialogue about racial, cultural, and economic
justice in New Orleans public schools and are inspired to take action with their
students’ communities to build a more liberatory education system” (New
Teachers’ Roundtable, 2015). According to Sondel (2017),
204 BUILDING POWER

While NTRT has had multiple iterations, it currently functions as a democrat-

ically run collective of educators. Each of these collective members pays
annual dues; meets monthly to organize logistics; and gathers biannually for
a weekend retreat to reflect on their practices, discuss their long-term vision,
read and discuss critical scholarship, and plan for upcoming events. To reach
out to other novice teachers, the collective organizes monthly potlucks, dur-
ing which they build community and explore the historical and socio-political
context of New Orleans through exposure to; critical scholarship, guest
speakers from the community, and/or film screenings. Collective members
also plan several larger events and workshops throughout the year for new
teachers in partnership with other community-based organizations. At nearly
every event, meeting, potluck, or retreat I observed, NTRT protected time for
participants to share a meal and a piece of their personal story.
(p. 7)

As the NTRT members would surely acknowledge, the collective is a work in

progress, but their taking the initiative to educate themselves about those
things they need to know to become more effective teachers in the context in
which they are working is exemplary of democratic professionalism. Teachers
can’t wait around for democratic leaders. We will end this chapter with a few
quotes from members of the NTRT.

I went to a [NTRT] teach-in where they showed a video about the 5,000
teachers who were fired. My mind was blown. I had no idea. Because the
rhetoric I heard from my principal and from other people was like, ‘all these
black lazy teachers were a drain on the system.
(NTRT member)

Having had the analysis, I’m able to empathize more … [But] there are
teachers out there who I have conversations with who are great teachers,
but truly and honestly believe that some kids are just bad, and their fami-
lies are to blame and the city is to blame … Now I find myself saying stop.
Parents generally want the best for their kids, no parent wants bad things
for their children.
(NTRT member)

The work with the collective sustains me to do the work at school. Part of
it is selfish, but if I wasn’t doing activism work I would just feel like I was a
part of a hopeless system. And I would literally be hopeless. I don’t know if
we’ll see the effects of our work, even in my lifetime, but I can’t sit still on a
moving train. It’s going somewhere. I just can’t sit back.
(NTRT member)
 BUILDING POWER 205

END-OF-CHAPTER QUESTIONS
1. What do you see as possible risks, obstacles, or pushback on teachers and prin-
cipals who attempt to build coalitions with students, parents, and community
leaders?
2. Have you participated in a professional Learning Community (PLC)? How
authentic was it? What did you accomplish there that you couldn’t have accom-
plished on your own?
3. Have you ever experienced being part of a “third space”? What was it like? What
are the advantages of working in third spaces? What are disadvantages?

NOTE
1 In practice, these three traditions might all be present in a PAR project and some scholars
see a theoretical overlap between theories associated with PLCs and those associated with
PAR (Cammarota, 2009–2010).

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C H A P T E R 10

Reclaiming the Power of

Education
Possibilities for Democratic Schooling

Democracy cannot succeed unless those who express their choice are prepared to
choose wisely. The real safeguard of democracy, therefore, is education.
—Franklin D. Roosevelt

We opened this book reflecting on the activism and leadership of elementary

school students and their parents, civil rights attorneys, and advocates across five
local communities, who, together, comprised the plaintiffs in the historic Brown v.
Board of Education case. Despite their efforts to use the courts to demand educational
equality for Black students under a “separate-but-equal” system, racial inequality
remains a predictable feature of American education, reflecting the nation’s larger
problem of racial caste and economic inequality—two problems the schools are
expected, ironically, to help solve. Although a good number of critical legal, policy,
and education scholars have characterized the Brown decision as an empty promise
that failed to hold school district and officials accountable for preventing Black stu-
dents access to White schools, the case yet serves as a symbol to many of America’s
commitment to equal education and pathway to the proverbial American dream.
Or, as we asked in the introduction to this book, is America dreaming? Perhaps
this is just one of the countless symptoms of what Labaree (2012) diagnosed as
“school syndrome”—Americans’ long-held “magical belief” that with schooling,
we can somehow have it both ways, achieving the contradictory goals of promot-
ing access and equality while preserving advantage and privilege (Labaree, 2012;
Reeves, 2014). Policy declarations and institutional commitments to educational
equity, diversity, and social justice have resulted in “so much reform, but so little
change” (Payne, 2008) but for the intentional, coordinated, and strategic actions of
students, parents, teachers, leaders, community coalitions, and advocates driven by
a belief in the democratic possibilities and power of education.
210 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING

We are seeing signs of coalitions forming. For instance, teacher wildcat strikes
of 2018 in West Virginia, Oklahoma, Kentucky, Arizona, and North Carolina were
in part inspired by their students mobilizing nationally around gun control and a
route to citizenship for dreamers. They also learned lessons from the success of the
2012 Chicago teachers’ strike (Nunez, Michie, & Konkol, 2015). Movements like
Occupy Wall Street, Black Lives Matter, #Me Too, and the Standing Rock pipeline
protesters have generated momentum and new discourses: the 99%, Water is life,
me too, and Black lives matter. What is significant about the 2018 statewide teachers’
strikes is that they were striking not just because of austerity policies, low wages
and an assault on their pensions but also because of their opposition to reforms im-
posed by non-educators that are having a deprofessionalizing effect on their work
(Anderson & Cohen, 2018). These may be states that vote conservatively, but neo-
liberal education reforms have been promoted by conservatives and liberals, and the
teachers are standing up to politicians from both parties as well as to mainstream
teachers’ unions that have too often gone along with NPM reforms.
In this final chapter, we use critical policy analysis to summarize and organize
our concluding thoughts, followed by recommendations for recasting contempo-
rary education policy discourses and moving from inquiry to praxis through lead-
ership, reflection, and action. We close with a call for activist leadership through
the following actions: (1) resisting efforts to dismantle education as a public good;
(2) reclaiming a vision for education grounded in participatory democracy, equality,
and justice; and (3) revolutionizing how education leadership is conceptual-
ized, practiced, and sustained.

CRITICAL POLICY ANALYSIS: IMPLICATIONS FOR PRAXIS

The paradox of education is precisely this - that as one begins to become con-
scious one begins to examine the society in which he is being educated.
—James Baldwin

How might we both oppose the worst excesses of NPM, while using those dem-
ocratic practices and policies that currently exist to build not a new education re-
form movement but rather a broader paradigm shift and social movement led by
educators? It will take more than tweaking to humanize our public schools; yet we
needn’t start from scratch either. While we don’t want to return to the past, we can
revive some older ideas and practices that worked well, and we can draw on some
current innovative practices that, like flowers growing through the cement, have
shown resiliency and great promise.
We discuss both opportunities for opposition and advocacy, and current prac-
tices that show promise for building more equitable, rigorous, and humane pub-
lic schools. First, as educators, we should give up the notion that business models
and the private sector are more innovative or appropriate for managing and im-
proving educational systems (Abrams, 2016; Cuban, 2004; Lock & Spender, 2011;
Mazzacuto, 2015). Second, we need to take seriously the need for educators to be
 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING 211

advocates for low-income families and children and to do so in concrete ways both
inside and outside schools (Anderson, 2009). This often means teaching and lead-
ing against the grain and taking risks. Third, and related to being an advocate, is to
mobilize policymakers to return to a policy of public investment in our social infra-
structure, including our public schools. Especially since 2008, we have seen a shift
toward austerity and privatization of the public sector instead of public investment.
Countries that have rejected NPM and heavily and smartly invest in schools and
teachers outperform those that don’t (Adamson, Astrand, & Darling-Hammond,
2016). The teachers that are striking and walking out across America are calling for
greater public investment in education. Where are the educational leaders? Fourth,
unless we change our current epistemology of research and practice, nothing will
change; we will continue to think in top-down, outside-in, scaling up approaches to
educational change (Anderson, 2017). Why not explore bottom-up and inside-out
approaches to change and scaling down to humanize education? Finally, and re-
lated to this, there is a need to shift power relations and hold those in power ac-
countable. This will be the most difficult as we face massive amounts of what Jane
Mayer (2014) calls “dark money” flowing into our political and educational systems
from corporations and venture philanthropists, and donors like the Koch brothers.
We believe that educators, along with other professionals who are suffering from
NPMs’ reliance on markets, metrics, and managerialism, can be the core of a move-
ment to regenerate a moribund sense of a public sphere, a common good, and
greater social equality (Anyon, 2014).
Nearly five decades ago, in his book Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Paulo Freire
(1970) lamented, “We are surrounded by a pragmatic discourse that would have
us adapt to the facts of reality. Dream and utopia, are called not only useless, but
positively impeding” (p. 1). What we hope to provide in this chapter is a vision
for the future of public schooling that encourages us to dream about what may
seem like a utopia yet is grounded in some existing practices and policies, though
these practices may not be dominant currently. Marcus Foster, whose leadership
we highlighted in the previous chapter, rejected using rigid accountability models
that sought to punish teachers and leaders. He felt teachers and leaders were already
too restrained by custom, bureaucracy, and low expectations. His way of thinking
about accountability was to incentivize teachers and leaders to take risks and to look
to the community for accountability—a kind of public accountability to one’s com-
munity, not accountability through markets and school choice.
This way of thinking about professionalism requires a commitment to not
just implementing educational practices but engaging in educational praxis. Freire
(1970) insisted that literacy meant reading the word and the world. Any education
worth the name teaches us to read the world, not just the word. It teaches us to
decode systems of power, and this is best done with others. Some tenets of praxis
include:

Understanding the individual and school-level processes as contextualized by

macro-level social processes and structures.
These social processes and structures are understood within a historical context.
212 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING

Theory and practice are integrated. Practice informs theory and theory informs
practice.
The subject-object relationship is transformed into a subject-subject relation-
ship through dialogue.
The community and the professional together produce critical knowledge
aimed at social transformation.

More on this below, but these tenets apply to good teaching as well as good pro-
fessional practice. It is in this spirit that we provide the following critical policy
analysis.

#1: EXHIBIT AN ETHOS OF PUBLIC SERVICE AND A

COMMON GOOD: IMPORTING BUSINESS MODELS WON’T
IMPROVE EDUCATION NOR MAKE IT MORE EQUITABLE

During the last century of education history, we’ve seen the imposition of two busi-
ness models: the first, business model 1.0, emerged in the early 20th century and
gave us the “efficient,” factory model school, and the second, business model 2.0,
gave us a system based on privatization, market choice, and high-stakes account-
ability. What both business models have in common is that they are undergirded
by assumptions of hyper-efficiency, meritocracy, bureaucracy, standardization,
and quantification. These assumptions are deeply embedded in our culture, but
for some time now, we have been on the cusp of a general recognition that these
business models have never served the vast majority of children, teachers, leaders,
or communities well (Anderson & Cohen, 2018; Cuban, 2004, 2007).
Some have argued that educators who followed the democratic and progressive,
child-centered approach of John Dewey were overshadowed by the administrative
progressives who gave us the industrial business model of the early 20th century
(Cremin, 1964). They bequeathed us factories and bureaucracies that were possibly
more efficient in the private sector but transferred to education resulted in the “fac-
tory model” school (the ultimate “scaling up”) and the standardization of learning
(Taubman, 2009). Too many reformers today forget that the public bureaucracies
they now criticize were at one time the business model du jour.
To be fair, business model 1.0, which promoted bureaucratic meritocracy, did
replace patronage and corrupt political nepotism with civil service exams and pro-
fessional certification requirements. Politicians could no longer appoint the guy
who helped them get elected or their hapless brother-in-law to a principalship.
Moreover, those public bureaucracies were largely run by public servants, most
of whom had an ethos of service to a common good, unlike our current era of
entrepreneurial leaders who work under market pressures, just like the private sec-
tor. Yet, while cults of efficiency, standardization, and bureaucracy may have been
appropriate for manufacturing and franchising businesses, educators have been dig-
ging ourselves out of the hole of first-wave business models since the dawn of the
20th century (Anderson & Cohen, 2018; Callahan, 1962; Gelberg, 1997).
 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING 213

In previous chapters, we’ve described business model 2.0 (New Public Man-
agement), the late 20th and early 21st-century transfers of business principals into
the public sector, so we won’t repeat it here. But the second failure of business
models in a century (see Lock & Spender, 2011) leaves us asking what would our
dream public school be if we could see students not only as human capital but also
as complex; multidimensional; diverse; and, in many cases, wounded human be-
ings who need healing (Ginwright, 2015). To return to Paulo Freire (1970), what
would a humanizing and equitable education look like, and what kind of society do
we need to foster it? All great theorists of education, from John Dewey and Anna
Julia Cooper to Carter G. Woodson and Paulo Freire, recognized that schools and
society had a synergistic relationship. Children needed to be nurtured in a caring
and democratic school and society.
If we return to all of the goals of schooling described in Chapter 2, it would
mean bringing the multiple goals of schooling into greater balance. The economic,
human capital goal has colonized previous goals such as promoting democratic
citizenship, fostering a common good or cultivating students’ physical, affective,
and aesthetic development. As we caution throughout this book, decolonizing our
schools shouldn’t mean a return to some golden age of public schooling. While
public schools in the postwar years were probably not as bad as Hollywood movies
and right-wing think tanks have depicted them, they did have serious shortcom-
ings related to business model 1.0’s bureaucratic factory model and a meritocratic
ideology that justified discrimination by class, race, and gender (McNamee &
Miller, 2009).
But they have improved over time, although not for all children. Compare
Frederick Wiseman’s documentary, High School I (1960), which depicts long bor-
ing days of what Freire called “banking” or unidirectional, knowledge transmission
education, with High School II (1994), in which Wiseman visits Central Park East,
a member of the Coalition of Essential Schools. The differences are dramatic and
demonstrate what is possible when factory model high schools are “scaled down,”
detracked, and humanized (see Meier, 1995). On the other hand, small schools
require time and patience, and cannot be “brought to scale” quickly as they have in
some urban districts.
Until business model 2.0 nearly wiped them out, there were some promis-
ing coalitions of school models that attempted to improve public schools rather
than marketize and privatize them. Some examples were the Coalition of Essen-
tial Schools, Comer schools, and Accelerated Schools. While reformers impatiently
declared these public school innovations too little, too late, it would be interesting
to speculate where we would be today had we continued these innovations and
reformed the broader systems they were nested in. Such schools generally had their
own approach to dissemination of their innovations and they did not include repli-
cation and standardization. The replication and standardization of charter franchises
ensure that little innovation will occur, just as today’s McDonald’s hamburger is
not essentially different from the one mass-produced in the 1950s.
It is ironic that with evidence showing that the public sector may actually be
more innovative and entrepreneurial than the private sector, we continue to look to
214 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING

the private sector for solutions in education. Mazzucato’s (2015) The Entrepreneurial
State documents how virtually every innovation in the development of comput-
ers, smartphones, and tablets was funded almost exclusively by government agen-
cies, mostly defense-related agencies, such as Defense Advanced Research Projects
Agency (DARPA). This includes the internet, microprocessors, the multi-touch
screen, SIRI, GPS, liquid-crystal display, lithium ion batteries, and many more.
The vaunted entrepreneurialism of Silicon Valley is largely limited to creating apps
and commercializing innovations produced by the federal government.
And this is not just the case with the information technology (IT) industry:
almost every major technology has been the result of large-scale and long-term in-
vestment by the State, something venture capitalists seldom have the patience for.
The growth of the biopharmaceutical industry was not, as is often argued, the result
of venture capital or other business finance promoting innovation in the private
sector but rather was the result of government investment and ongoing support.
“Seventy-five percent of the NMEs [new molecular entities] trace their research
not to private companies but to publically funded National Institute of Health
(NIH) labs in the US” (Mazzacuto, 2015, p. 73). In Mazzacuto’s (2018) subsequent
book, she analyzes how we think about value (or wealth) creation and extraction,
and challenges the current notion that the wealthy and the private sector are the
“makers” and the welfare state and the poor are the “takers”. She demonstrates the
many ways the state creates wealth and the private sector extracts wealth.
Within the public schools there are still some remnants of progressive pub-
lic sector reforms left that could form the building blocks of a new paradigm of
schooling:

1. Although the Coalition of Essential schools has been dissolved, New York City
has a consortium of thirty-six schools, the New York Performance Standards Con-
sortium, that have a waiver to do alternative assessment for Regents exams. In-
stead of taking the exams, students must demonstrate mastery of skills in all
subjects by designing experiments, making presentations, writing reports, and
defending their work to outside experts (Robinson, 2015). Consortium schools
report much higher college attendance rates than regular high schools.
2. The community schools movement shows promise in many cities as well. In 2013,
the Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development (ASCD) and the
US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) developed the Whole
School, Whole Child, Whole Community approach, which combines a whole
child philosophy, community engagement, and health services (Lewallen, Hunt,
Potts-Datema, Zaza, & Giles, 2015; See also, Maier, Daniel, & Oakes, 2017).
3. The replacement of zero tolerance discipline approaches with culturally re-
sponsive approaches to restorative justice are humanizing schools and reducing
suspensions, when enacted authentically (Lustick, 2017).
4. In several U.S. cities, districts have used a more democratic way of holding
teachers accountable, called Peer Assistance and Review (PAR). This approach
involves teachers evaluating one another with union and administrative input.
Goldstein (2010) describes how the approach works:
 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING 215

With PAR, designated “consulting teachers” provide support to new teachers

and struggling veteran teachers (collectively called “participating teachers”), and
also conduct the summative personnel evaluations of the teachers they support.
The consulting teachers report to an oversight panel composed of teachers and
administrators from across the district, co-chaired by the teacher union presi-
dent and a high-ranking district office administrator. The panel holds hearings
several times a year, at which consulting teachers provide reports about par-
ticipating teacher progress and ultimately make recommendations about the
continued employment of each participating teacher.
(p. 54)
While such a model requires a high level of trust among teachers that the union
won’t be co-opted, it provides a peer-review process and is far better than using
test scores to evaluate teachers.
5. While the notion of culturally responsive teaching has been around for a
while (Gay, 2010; Ladson-Billings, 1994), the standardized testing emphasis
of NPM has forced many teachers to eliminate non-tested topics and adopt a
more test-oriented instruction. In addition, the new breed of franchise char-
ter schools and many public schools have chosen to de-emphasize these ap-
proaches in favor of a depoliticized, paternalistic, “boot camp” and scripted
approach to instruction. However, culturally responsive teaching is making a
revival in some stand-alone charters and many public schools (Milner IV, 2015;
Nieto, 2014). See Box 10.1 for a description of culturally responsive teaching.

B O X 1 0 .1 C O A L I T I O N F O R E D U C A T I O N A L J U S T I C E : C U L T U R A L LY R E S P O N S I V E
E D U C AT I O N 10 1

Culturally responsive education…

Connects curriculum and teaching to students’ experiences, perspectives,
histories, and cultures.
Advances student’s academic achievement and sense of themselves as
agents for change.
Helps students sustain their connection to their own language.

Our public schools are full of biases and inequities—both conscious

and unconscious—which impact students’ lives every day.
In 2015, only 15% of children’s books were by or about African Americans
or Latinos (1).
In 2015, a McGraw-Hill high school history textbook in Texas said
that African Americans were brought to the United States as “workers” (2).
Studies have shown that White teachers have lower expectations for
216 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING

students of color; they are significantly less likely to expect Black students
to finish high school and college (3).
Studies show that Black boys are seen as threatening and dangerous for
the same behavior that is seen as innocent when White kids do it. White
kids will be tolerated or even admired as leaders for the same behaviors
that get kids of color suspended (4).
A recent study showed that preschool teachers watch Black boys in the
classroom more than other children, increasing the chances that they catch
“bad” behavior (5).
Many research studies have shown that culturally responsive education
works (6).
Increases student engagement, participation, and curiosity in the
classroom.
Teaches students to value their perspectives and think of themselves
as good students.
Advances students’ political awareness and empowerment.
Students in K-12 who participated in Tucson’s Mexican-American Studies
program were (7):
Significantly more likely to pass state standardized tests and graduate
high school.
More engaged in literature and history lessons.
More likely to have positive perception of their ability to succeed in
math and science.
Ninth-grade students who participated in San Francisco’s Ethnic Studies
Program showed (8):
Increased student achievement and graduation rates.
Increased attendance, grade point average, and credits earned.

1. http://ccbc.education.wisc.edu/books/pcstats.asp
2. http://www.nytimes.com/2015/10/06/us/publisher-promises-revisions-
after-textbook-refers-to-african-slaves-as-workers.html?_r=0
3. http://research.upjohn.org/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1248&context=
up_workingpapers
4. http://www.apa.org/news/press/releases/2014/03/black-boys-older.aspx
5. http://news.yale.edu/2016/09/27/implicit-bias-may-help-explain-high-preschool-
expulsion-rates-black-children
6. http://www.nea.org/assets/docs/NBI-2010-3-value-of-ethnic-studies.pdf
7. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/12/01/mexican-american-studies-
student-achievement_n_6249592.html?1421108833
8. http://news.stanford.edu/2016/01/12/ethnic-studies-benefits-011216/
 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING 217

This is only a handful of ideas and practices that currently exist. We don’t
have to invent new practices to work to transform public education, just promote
more humanizing practices and oppose those policies that make them less likely
to be successful. While these building blocks can form the basis for necessary
changes in policies and approaches to schooling, there are also broad assumptions
and paradigms that underlie our current reforms that will need to be confronted
as well.

#2 ADVOCATE FOR LOW-INCOME CHILDREN AND FAMILIES

AND CHALLENGE POLICIES THAT FAIL TO ADDRESS RACED,
CLASSED, AND GENDERED INEQUALITIES

Today’s education leaders must understand power and the ways in which power,
politics, and policy governance shape not only their role in their respective class-
rooms, schools, or districts but also the policies and politics that govern their pro-
fession. Despite narratives around equity, inclusion, and integration, the reality is
that America’s school system is segregated by race and class and will stay that way
until we confront the reality of racial caste in American society. The ongoing strug-
gle for educational equality for poor children of color, particularly Black, Latino/a,
immigrant, and refugee children, a growing share of which are also Muslim and/
or speak a language other than English at home, has been characterized by some
as “apartheid schools” although history would tell us that these schools are as
American as apple pie.
Closing “achievement gaps,” closing “failing” schools, or firing ineffective
teachers doesn’t confront the realities of America’s classed and raced caste systems,
which continue to maintain Black people at the “bottom of society’s well” (Bell,
1992), while other communities of color negotiate their location on the spectrum
of political Blackness in relation to Whiteness or, rather, a racial continuum from
non-Whiteness to Whiteness. A critical policy approach to pursuing the possibili-
ties of democratic education requires familiarity with the policy landscape, political
climate, and various sources of power in terms of funding, policymaking, and ac-
countability, both private and public. Transformative leaders, such as those we have
featured throughout this book, tend to have a deep understanding of their policy
environment and classed, raced, and gendered power relations. Here are some of
the things they do:

Implications for Praxis

Participate in professional associations meetings, convenings, conferences, and
other opportunities to learn about the latest in education policy at the local,
regional, and national levels.
Subscribe to education newsletters, blogs, journals, and other legitimate sources
of education news and current events to stay engaged with the education and
larger policy and political issues being debated in the public sphere. A good
218 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING

place to start is: Education Week, Rethinking Schools, NEAToday (NEA), Phi Delta
Kappan, American Educator (AFT), Educational Leadership (ASCD), Education
Policy Analysis Archives (open access), Journal for Critical Education Policy
Studies (open access), and School Administrator (AASA). Read books about
education and social policy. Many can be found in this book’s reference list.
Become familiar with your elected and appointed representatives at the local,
state, and federal levels and their positions on education issues, and if you live
in a community other than where you work, be sure to know who represents
your students, families, and local school community members.
Conduct background research on those who are funding education initiatives
and/or related community development efforts to better understand the values
and ideology supporting their investment in this work. Who serves on the board
of directors? Which foundation is funding the initiative? What political campaigns
or other causes has this philanthropic organization funded, and to what end?

#3 SUPPORT POLICIES OF PUBLIC INVESTMENT IN

EDUCATION, NOT A STRATEGY OF MARKETS AND
MEASURING OUTCOMES

Part of the neoliberal NPM agenda has been a shift from an emphasis on “inputs”
of the system (resources and public investment) to one of markets and high-stakes
“outputs” (measuring outcomes). Especially since the 2008 recession, investment
in public education has diminished, leading to lower teachers’ salaries, benefits, and
pensions. Low salaries in combination with a sense that they are being disrespected
and deprofessionalized by NPM led to the wildcat strikes in 2018 by teachers in West
Virginia, Oklahoma, Kentucky, Arizona, and Colorado (Weiner, 2018). Teachers in
these politically conservative states have educated themselves about the ways in which
their gendered profession is being degraded, and they have drawn a line in the sand.
Global comparisons of countries that have adopted a public investment strat-
egy in education with those that have chosen markets and metrics demonstrate
that a public investment strategy achieves higher overall achievement and greater
equity of outcomes. Finland, which chose public investment, saw its achievement
rates soar, while just next door, Sweden, which chose a voucher system and high-
stakes testing, saw its rates plummet (Astrand, 2016). Canada (especially Ontario),
which chose public investment over markets, has outperformed the U.S. (Fullan &
Rincon-Gallardo, 2016), and socialist Cuba’s academic achievement leaves the rest
of Latin America in the dust (Carnoy, 2016).
But one needn’t look to other countries for comparisons. U.S. states that have
followed a public investment strategy consistently outperform states that have not.
Several high-performing states in the northeast, such as Massachusetts, Vermont,
Connecticut, New Hampshire, and New Jersey, have increased and attempted to
equalize funding; invested in high-quality standards, assessments, and professional
development; and supported early childhood education and child health and wel-
fare. These are also states with high levels of unionized teachers.
 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING 219

The pro-charter Center for Education Reform (CER) and the corporate-
funded, neoliberal American Legislative Exchange Council (ALEC) both give these
states Ds and Cs on their annual report cards. ALEC’s highest rankings go to states
that are largely nonunion and deregulated, allowing for-profit charter schools and
vouchers. States like Arizona, Florida, Indiana, and Betsy DeVos’s Michigan, along
with Washington, D.C., received the highest ratings. None of these states outper-
form states that have followed a public investment and teacher professionalization
strategy.
We can also look to the U.S. past for an example of public investment. Although
marred by racist housing policies (Rothstein, 2017) and a state finance system based
on property taxes, the U.S. had a strategy of public investment during the years
of the Great Society in the 1960s when the Elementary and Secondary Education
Act was passed. The Civil Rights movement had also removed some barriers to
education for African Americans. The labor movement had produced well-paid,
blue-collar jobs, and opportunities were expanding in higher education through
state investment that produced low state tuition, increased financial aid, and affirm-
ative action programs. During this period, the CUNY system in New York City
had free tuition and open admissions. It should not be surprising that the achieve-
ment gap between Black and White students and between income levels saw the
largest reductions during the 1960s and 1970s. The gap in higher education enroll-
ments was nearly eliminated during this period. City College (often referred to as
the working class’s Harvard) and other CUNY campuses, for instance, between the
1950s and the 1970s went from being overwhelmingly White to among the most
racially diverse campuses in the nation.
And yet, these policies of public investment were eroded by a well-funded
campaign to dismantle the welfare state and replace it with an ideology of disin-
vestment from the public sector (Phillips-Fein, 2009). This was accompanied by
the idea, promoted by Nobel Prize-winning economists like James Buchanan and
Milton Freidman, that redistributive economic policies that addressed the oppor-
tunity gap were a kind of Robin Hood mentality that stole from the more deserving
affluent members of society to give to the undeserving poor (McLean, 2017). The
fact that the poor in the U.S. were disproportionally made up of racial minorities
was seldom acknowledged openly, but a kind of “dog whistle” politics made it clear
to those who were listening in a racist frequency that it meant taking money from
White people and giving it to people of color (Lopez, 2015). In the current climate
created by President Donald Trump, the dog whistle has been replaced by some
with a racist and xenophobic megaphone.

Implications for Praxis

Identify ways to demonstrate, articulate, and even quantify to the public the
tangible and intangible benefits of public education to society.
Become familiar with the role of media in the policy process and more
specifically how education issues are presented in the media and perceived
by the public, and develop relationships with local and national education
reporters.
220 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING

Utilize organizing efforts and strategies (e.g. press conferences, sit-ins, marches,
protests, boycotts, strikes, etc.) that draw media interest and public attention to
a particular issue.
Connect an agenda that supports public education with other progressive agen-
das that require and rely on high-quality schools and systems of education (e.g.
environmental justice, restorative justice practices, early learning education,
worker rights and apprenticeships, gender equity, etc.).

#4 CHANGE YOUR EPISTEMOLOGY OF PRACTICE (AND

RESEARCH): CENTERING EMANCIPATORY KNOWLEDGE
AND MARGINALIZED PERSPECTIVES

Researchers, policymakers, educators, nonprofit organizations, and local service

providers who seek authentic community perspectives and input must locate and
center local and community knowledge and the marginalized whose forgotten per-
spectives are seldom included in mainstream narratives. Also know that this work
requires an investment of time and commitment, so ensure that you incorporate
an adequate amount of time for outreach and related activities, and ensure that you
have identified the major stakeholders, policy actors, and influential organizations,
who will be able to ensure that the perspectives you collect from a particular com-
munity are actually representative of that community.
From an education policy and leadership perspective, emergent work in the
areas of bilingual education leadership, impact of homelessness on educational out-
comes (Pavlakis, Goff, & Miller, 2017), implications of federal education policy on
Indigenous education (Mackey, 2017), complexities of leading schools in gentrify-
ing neighborhoods (McGhee & Anderson, 2018), and additional work document-
ing the voices and experiences of students and parents of color (Ginwright, 2015)
have contributed richly to the education research literature.
An increase in the number of scholars utilizing critical race theory and nontra-
ditional methodologies that are more critical, participatory, and action-oriented has
increased our knowledge as a field in important ways that a White, Western, male
perspective could not and did not capture over the last century (Collins & Bilge,
2016). Fortunately, a growing number of scholars who are of color, women, and
LGBT persons in the field of education have begun to transform the nature of what
constitutes research, for whom, and to what end. The group that is missing in the
academy though, as well as in the ranks of teachers and administrators, is the poor.
This means that we must have our ears to the ground as we represent communities
who are struggling with economic stressors we may not be intimately familiar with.
And yet, educational research has not had the kind of impact on practice and
policy that scholars would like (Dumas & Anderson, 2014). In part, this may be
because few have seriously challenged the technocratic knowledge framework that sees
knowledge in applied fields as created in universities; disseminated through jour-
nals (usually behind pay walls), conferences, consultants, and workshops; and uti-
lized by practitioners in schools (see Box 10.2).
 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING 221

B OX 10 . 2 T E C H N O C R AT I C K N O W L E D G E F R A M E W O R K

A linear, chronological process:

Knowledge creation (in universities, policy think tanks, and r&d centers)
Knowledge dissemination (unidirectional: publication, conferences, work-
shops, consultancies, vendors)
Knowledge utilization (practice, policy)

This traditional framework has been ineffective for decades and pathologizes
school practitioners as “resistant” to reforms they had no role in creating. A dem-
ocratic approach to knowledge requires an emancipatory knowledge framework that
problematizes a linear, top-down research “delivery” system. It also promotes a
more simultaneous, dialogical process in which the creation of knowledge is done
in multiple sites and with a participatory stance with diverse participants (see
Box 10.3). This might include a broad continuum of possibilities from traditional
academic research to community or site-based research led by community or stu-
dent organizers or school practitioners. To the extent that students, teachers, or
community organizations are seeking knowledge to solve problems relevant to
their lives, they will seek knowledge from other sites, including academic research.
Ironically, in an emancipatory knowledge framework, schools and communities are
more likely, not less, to seek out academic research.

B OX 10 . 3 E M A N C I PAT O R Y K N O W L E D G E F R A M E W O R K

A simultaneous, dialogical process:

Knowledge creation (in multiple sites, with diverse participants)
Knowledge circulation (multidirectional: knowledge/power)
Knowledge enactment (agentic subjects at all levels)

An emancipatory knowledge framework challenges the idea that school practi-

tioners should be mere implementers or utilizers of knowledge rather than creators
of knowledge. Teachers’ tendency to resist, modify, or reappropriate reforms is
viewed by NPM reformers not as a necessary adaptation of policy to practice but
rather as distorting the “fidelity” of implementation (Achinstein & Ogawa, 2006).
And yet, decades of research have shown that the agency that practitioners exercise
has a positive effect on policy as it recontextualizes the policy, adapting it to the local
reality (McLaughlin, 1976). An emancipatory knowledge framework would include
a more explicit form of participatory policymaking and knowledge production in
222 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING

which those at different levels of the system collaborate to produce policy knowl-
edge (Dumas & Anderson, 2014). In an emancipatory framework, knowledge isn’t
disseminated “downward,” but rather circulates and is multidirectional.
Some researchers have characterized the gap between scholars and practitioners
as reflecting separate cultures (Ginsberg & Gorostiaga, 2001) and universities are
being supplanted as knowledge brokers by think tanks and other organizations that
more effectively straddle social fields (Anderson, De La Cruz, & Lopez, 2017). Un-
less the technocratic knowledge framework changes to reflect changing times, aca-
demics and their research—qualitative or quantitative—will continue to be viewed
as largely irrelevant to schools, practitioners, and progressive policymakers.

Implications for Praxis

Push deeper into more horizontal forms of teacher professional development
that are inclusive of student and community perspectives and teachers’ unions.
Understand that principals don’t lose power by sharing it. They gain greater
power to achieve objectives.
A promising horizontal practice is PAR or teachers evaluating each other with
union and administrative inputs, as we discussed earlier.
Promote authentic performance-based assessments over paper and pencil tests
and remove the high stakes from testing.
Support social movement unionism, allied with communities that fight for
equitable social and educational reforms. Most teachers unions are industrial
union models that focus mainly on bread-and-butter issues. These bread-and-
butter issues are important, especially given how underpaid teachers are and
how vulnerable their pensions are. But unless we build broad coalitions to fight
for social justice for all children, unions will continue to be vulnerable to anti-
union attacks led by corporate-funded political organizations like ALEC
(Anderson & Donchik, 2016).

#5 INTERROGATE THE DISTRIBUTION OF POWER AND

RESOURCES AND HOLD THOSE IN POWER ACCOUNTABLE

States and school systems across the country have relinquished significant control
over education to the private sector, buying into the business model of education
that has used high-stakes standardized testing, market competition, and charter
school franchising as a form of scaling up and standardizing “innovations.” Re-
formers can be applauded for their sense of urgency about improving teaching and
learning so that all students can be college ready, but urgency must be balanced with
an understanding of the complexity of schools and systems and the longer timelines
often needed to create deep change (Payne, 2008). Like many countries that invest
in the professional development of teachers and then look to them to lead change
with community input, we need to find more organic forms of professional respon-
sibility and the dissemination of innovation across schools and districts.
 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING 223

But educators are in a difficult position. Both major political parties have bought
into NPM reforms, and they are being promoted by powerful organizations with
massive amounts of money. In addition, a relatively new actor has appeared on the
scene. For-profit companies see public education as a profit center. These “edu-
businesses” have powerful lobbies in Washington, network with ALEC and similar
organizations, and have gone global, nearly taking over entire public school systems
in countries like Liberia and Haiti, and threatening to profit from Puerto Rico’s
economy ravaged first by vulture capitalists and then by hurricanes (Klein, 2018).
For-profit companies have produced textbooks for public schools for a long
time, and many new products and technologies may be worth purchasing. How-
ever, district and building administrators are often the only line of defense against
the massive push to exploit public money. It is becoming increasingly apparent, for
instance, that virtual schools in many states are a scam to profit off public money
by receiving the same allocation as brick-and-mortar schools. Thanks in part to
ALEC’s education task force, chaired by K-12, Inc. (Anderson & Donchik, 2016),
“between 2008 and 2014, 175 bills that expanded online schooling options passed in
39 states and territories (including the district of Columbia)” (Rook, 2017, p. 145).
K-12, Inc. was founded Ronald Packard, with heavy investment from Michael
Milkin, the symbol of Wall Street Greed, Gordon Gekko, portrayed by Michael
Douglas in the movie Wall Street. Milkin did two years in prison for securities fraud.
Meanwhile, his new company, K-12, Inc., settled a federal lawsuit for $6.8 million for
allegedly inflating “stock prices by misleading investors with false student performance
claims” (Rook, 2017 p. 149). In addition to improprieties, virtual schools have proved
to be so ineffective that many states are canceling their contracts (Miron & Gulosino,
2016, April). While some companies are reputable, the technology industry, including
testing, data warehousing, and management, has grown massively and spends millions
lobbying Washington and statehouses for policies that favor their industries (Burch &
Good, 2014). District and building administrators need to educate themselves about
this growing education industry and be good stewards of public funds.
As we have noted throughout this book, we see this tendency of the State’s dis-
investment from education along with the growth of a for-profit industry that sees
schools and districts as profit centers as an existential threat to the very concept of
public education. As austerity policies are imposed around the world, public invest-
ment shrinks, creating a bigger opening for these companies. What might resistance
look like for educators in the face of such formidable and well-funded forces?
At a professional level, the task ahead is not to reassert “traditional” profession-
alism but rather to better understand how to engage in what Achinstein and Ogawa
(2006) call “principled resistance” to the most egregious assaults on professionals,
while acknowledging the weaknesses of the old professionalism and constructing a
vision of a new democratic professionalism (Anderson & Cohen, 2018; Zeichner &
Pena-Sandoval, 2015). At a minimum, such a vision would insist on a professional
ethos with the public good at its center.
At the collective level, there is a growing grassroots resistance to all of these ten-
dencies and many public sector professionals and low-income communities of color
are engaged in these struggles. The current neoliberal reform model in education is
224 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING

encountering increasing resistance. The mainstreams of both political parties were

rejected in the 2016 U.S. elections, suggesting that the American public is seeking
profound change. The wildcat teachers’ strikes in the American heartland may be a
harbinger of things to come. But we can’t sit back and wait for it to happen. Educators
are on the front lines of a growing social movement—of a plethora of social move-
ments that are beginning to find their voices and to build alliances across race, gender,
class, and ideology. We have to turn off the mainstream corporate-funded media and
begin listening to alternative sources of information, other educators, other public
sector employees, and our students and their communities. Fox News, CNN, and
MSNBC are merely seeking ratings. The mainstream corporate media may not be
fake news, as Donald Trump claims, but it is less news than infotainment, following
the latest shiny object and bereft of any investigative reporting of important issues.

Implications for Praxis

Demand a return to a strategy of public investment in education and discontinue
the cheaper but ineffective market-based, high-stakes accountability approach.
Support school desegregation through controlled choice programs like those in
Cambridge, MA and Wake County, NC.
Replace quasi-markets and charter schools with community schools that pro-
vide wraparound services but also redefine school-community relationships.
Challenge private requests for public funding absent a public accountability plan.
Organize resistance to the privatization of public schooling, especially the
growth of the for-profit sector in the public sphere. Early notions of public-
private partnerships were viable approaches to address intractable social prob-
lems (Minow, 2002), but we are increasingly seeing the colonization of the
public sector by the private sector through a discourse of “partnership.”
Require annual public accountability reporting comparable to what is required
of traditional public schools from any education providers using public dollars
or resources.

Seek data on the extent to which schools replaced punitive, zero tolerance
approaches to discipline with positive discipline approaches, such as restor-
ative justice.
Seek data on the types and quality of educational services made available to
English learners and their families and the expansion of bilingual and dual
language programs for students and families representing a diversity of racial,
ethnic, cultural, and socioeconomic backgrounds.

THE TRANSFORMATIVE POWER OF EDUCATION

AND LEADERSHIP

The history of education leadership in America is filled with many impressive

and courageous figures who engaged in acts of resistance, reimagining, and rev-
olutionary thinking in order to disrupt and/or transform systems of schooling in
 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING 225

powerful and important ways. Whether the parents who risked their safety and the
safety of their children as plaintiffs in the Brown v. Board of Education case to resist
government-sanctioned racially segregated schools or present-day school leaders
resisting Trump’s policies to deport undocumented students to countries they’ve
never lived in, there is great need for activist leadership that builds on the work of
community organizers and progressive social movements, and leads “against the
grain” (Ishimaru, 2014).
Indeed, revolutionary thinking is critical to this project as America’s schools,
much like the nation itself, were never great to begin with for those who were not
part of the dominant classes. If nothing more, Trump’s presidency has compelled
us to challenge our historical amnesia or perhaps intentional ignorance, around
issues of White supremacy, patriarchy, and dangers of religious zeal and domes-
tic terrorism in ways that hold important implications for the future of American
education. Education leaders committed to the ideals of equality, democracy, and
justice must engage an activist leadership approach that is not simply reactionary
but seeks to build a system of schools greater than how we found them.
As Robert Greenleaf, who coined the term servant leadership, explained, “Rev-
olutionary ideas do not change institutions. People change them by taking risks
to serve and lead, and by the sustained painstaking care that institution building
requires.” In that same spirit, we offer the following ways in which education lead-
ers might take advantage of this current political moment to (1) resist efforts to
dismantle education as a public good; (2) reclaim a vision for education grounded
in equality, liberation, and justice; and (3) revolutionize how education leadership
is conceptualized, practiced, and sustained.

1. Resist efforts to dismantle education as a public good. Today’s education

leaders must serve as the leading voices and advocates for high-quality public
schools. This requires defending public education as a pillar of democratic so-
ciety and resisting efforts to weaken or altogether dismantle the notion that ed-
ucation is a public good. To be fair, education has its problems, and educational
institutions, like other organizations in both the private and public sectors, are
far from perfect. Educational leaders should not allow critics of education as
a public good to control a narrative claiming that public schools are “broken”
and need to be “fixed” or, better yet, replaced with charter schools or incentiv-
ized to improve through competition and privatization. Instead, they should
resist what has now become a mainstream discourse in education and replace it
with one that reminds the public of the important role and contributions that
education can and must play in an open, free, and democratic society. This in-
cludes actively resisting education policies, programs, and practices that claim
to promote equity but really only exist to enrich those who benefit from the
exploitation of disenfranchised communities.
2. Reclaim a vision of education grounded in equality, liberation, and
justice. For the last two decades, American education has focused narrowly
on standardization, high-stakes testing and accountability, and superficial at-
tempts to close an “achievement gap” that remains nothing more than a reflec-
tion of racial caste in America. We cannot normalize such structures through
226 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING

the collection and dissemination of data that focuses on “winners” and “losers”
rather than creating conditions that foster and support the growth, learning, and
development of children and youth. By reclaiming a vision of education that
is grounded in the ideals of equality, liberty, and justice, education leaders can
accomplish two important things: (1) restore a much-needed commitment to
understanding the history of American education from multiple perspectives,
and the role that schools and school leaders have played in either undermining
or advancing these ideals and (2) creating conditions and intellectual spaces that
invite, foster, and facilitate civil discourse, dialogue, and mutual understanding.
3. Revolutionize how education leadership is conceptualized, practiced,
and sustained. The field of education leadership is being left behind when it
comes to its ability to be nimble and responsive to the needs of today’s students,
families, and communities. Surely, the Trump Administration’s policies and
the uncertainty that they have created pose many challenges to school lead-
ers who have a professional duty to ensure the safety and education of their
students and the families they serve. In fact, while instructional leadership is
important and has become the preeminent frame upon which to measure and
assess the effectiveness of school leaders, the current moment demands a dis-
tinct priority shift as we process not only the short-term impact of Trump’s
policies but the medium- and long-term impacts they will have on America’s
schools and, even more importantly, democracy.

The two surely go together and it will take bold and courageous leadership to not
simply improve test scores and work to remove persistently low-performing schools
from a state watch list but to seriously reflect on the purpose and values we hold
for education and why we as education leaders entered the profession in the first
place. The times require that we take an active leadership role to mobilize school
communities to convince policymakers to prioritize education and build bridges
and coalitions that demand a system of schools that supports a racially and culturally
pluralist society that is strongest when united in vision and purpose.

CONCLUSION

We are nearing a consensus in the U.S. that NPM and business models have
never served the vast majority of children, teachers, leaders, or communities well
(Anderson, 2009; Cuban, 2004, 2007; Gelberg, 1997). Moving forward, it is critical
to seize this moment in which we can determine the role that schools must play
in a democratic society. If we miss this moment, we will not be able to galvanize
the groups and individuals who are currently engaged in the resistance to the au-
thoritarian regime that is currently in the White House and what it represents in
terms of its dismantling of democratic practices and investments and support for
high-quality public schools.
Exhibit A is billionaire Betsy DeVos, the woman who leads the Department of
Education, and contributed $9.5 million to President Trump’s campaign. She has
 POSSIBILITIES FOR DEMOCRATIC SCHOOLING 227

no education degree, has never taught in or led a public school or sent her children
to one, and supports the funding of for-profit Christian schools with public funds.
Only by building alliances and coalitions across a range of progressive causes like
women’s rights, LBGTQ rights, immigration rights, environmental justice, and
criminal justice reform can public education find its rightful place among the na-
tion’s priorities.
If America’s schools are to recognize their collective power as sites of possibil-
ity and transformation through teaching and learning, knowledge production, and
the critical and original thinking essential to a vibrant, inclusive, and representative
democracy, we must restore the democratic ideal and seek greater balance between
public and private sectors and interests. This is not to suggest that economic goals
are not important; they are. They should be supplemented by goals such as devel-
oping the skills of democratic citizenship; personal enhancement through music,
the arts, and the joy of learning for its own sake; and in ways that model meaningful
cultural diversity, inclusion, and integration based on true social equality, mutual
respect, and a shared commitment to the public good.

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Index

Note: Boldface page numbers refer to tables & italic page numbers refer to figures. Page
numbers followed by “n” refer to endnotes.

Accelerated Schools 93, 213 American Recovery and Reinvestment Act 74

accountability 152–3, 157, 181; Americans for Prosperity 83
community-based approach to 196–7; America’s schools 2–4, 9, 22, 71, 225–7
equity and 72–3 Anderson, B 117–18
Achievement First 199 Anderson, G. L. 99, 167
“achievement gap” 54 Anyon, Jean 13, 156, 192–3
Achievement Reporting and Innovation ARIS database see Achievement Reporting
System (ARIS) database 142 and Innovation System (ARIS) database
Achinstein, B. 158, 223 Arizona Senate Bill 1042 154
ACTA see American Council of Trustees ASCD see Association for Supervision and
and Alumni (ACTA) Curriculum Development (ASCD)
Administrative Regime 91, 92 Association for Supervision and
African Americans: education, architects of Curriculum Development (ASCD) 214
59–61; social status 108–9; teachers 194–5 A+ Texas Teachers 4, 153
ALEC see American Legislative Exchange authentic participation 167, 167–8
Council (ALEC) Ayer, Gertrude 101–2
Alliance for Quality Education 194 Ayers, R. 96
American Council of Trustees and Alumni Ayers, W. 96
(ACTA) 3
American Dilemma, An (Myrdal) 110 Bacchi, C. 36–7
American Dream 1, 11 Bacharach, S. 168
American Enterprise Institute 111 Badass Teachers Association 193
American Legislative Exchange Council Baldwin, James 210
(ALEC) 52, 82–5, 179, 219, 222–3; Ball, S. J. 33, 35, 36, 99
funding 83; state-level strategy 83–4; Bamberger, P. 168
style network governance 84 Banking Act of 1933 24
232 INDEX

Barth, Richard 80 Bush, George W. 3, 25, 73, 74

Bauer, S. 168 Bush, Jeb 79
Becker, Gary 25 business model 1.0 212
Bell, Terrel H. 71 business model 2.0 213
Bensimon, E. 39 Butin, D. 3
Berliner, D. 181 Byers, Kim Smith Brook 122, 154
Bevins, J 179
“Bible belt” 15 Callahan, R. 201
Biddle, B. 181 capitalism 23; laissez-faire 24;
Bilge, S. 40, 193 neoliberalism and 25–8
Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation 80, Capitalism and Freedom (Friedman) 35, 49
81, 111 “capitalist realism” 25
Black Alliance for Educational Options 116 Carnegie Corporation of New York 108,
Black Lives Matter 210 110
Black schooling 59–60 Carnoy, M. 152
Blair, H. 179 CASA see Cornerstone Academy for Social
Blase, J. 99, 100 Action (CASA)
Bloomberg, Michael 90, 91, 121, 125, 147 Castle Rock 83
Boggs, Carl 99 Center for Education Reform (CER)
“boot camp” charter schools 147 116, 219
Bourdieu, Pierre 171–3; cultural Center for Media and Democracy 83
reproduction and production 176; Center on Reinventing Public
notion of “misrecognition” 175; Education 117
symbolic violence and 174–7 CER see Center for Education Reform
Bowman, Jamaal 176–7, 197 (CER)
Bradley Foundation 83, 111, 112 Cervantes-Soon, C. 202
Brave New World (Huxley) 165 charter management organizations
Brennan, John 78–9 (CMOs) 70, 77–8, 81, 116–17,
Bretton Woods 145 127–8, 132
Broad and the Walton Family charter school 6, 51, 55, 94, 116, 129, 155,
Foundations 124 201; educational stratification and 113;
Broad Center 81 expenditures for students 56; policy
Broad Education Foundation 121 network 77; planning, and funding
Broad, Eli 121–2 network 118; reform 126–7
Broad Foundation 79–81, 83, 91, 111 charter school movement 77, 78, 115–16
Brown I and Brown II decisions of 1954 and Chicago, teachers strike 96, 182, 210
1955 54 Chile, education system 27–8
“browning of America” 1 Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission
Brown v. Board of Education 13, 14, 209, 225 115, 178
Bryson, J. 169 civics 30
Buchanan, James 24, 219 Civil Rights Movement 53, 110, 219
Buese, D. 153 classical liberalism 21, 23–4
Burnett, Charles 13 Clinton, Bill 24, 25, 51, 73
Burnett, McKinley 14 closed leadership style 99
Burns, George McGregor 2 CMOs see charter management
Burns, James McGregor 99 organizations (CMOs)
Burroughs, Nannie Helen 109 Coalition of Essential Schools 93, 214
 INDEX 233

collective action for change 11–12 Cuban, L. 11

Collins, P. H. 40, 193 cultural arbitrary 173
Color of Change 84 cultural capital 174
Comer Schools 93 culturally responsive education 215, 216
Commission on the Skills of the American “culturally responsive pedagogy” 174–5
Workforce 29 culturally responsive teaching 215–16
commodification process 35 Cummins, J. 175
Common Core standards 84 CUNY system 219
community 132; capacity and power 199
community-centric accountability 196 DARPA see Defense Advanced Research
community control movements 57 Projects Agency (DARPA)
community diversity 132 data-driven decision-making 197, 198
community schools 156, 157, 214 Death and Life of the Great American School
competition: school choice policies and System: How Testing and Choice Are
53–4; within schools 7 Undermining Education, The 126
Congressional Budget Office 170 Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and
Conley, S. 168 Indigenous Peoples (Smith) 40
Constructing the Political Spectacle (Edelman) 35 de facto policy 37
Contreras, Tamara 27–8, 197 Defense Advanced Research Projects
Cooper, Anna Julia 109, 213 Agency (DARPA) 214
Cornerstone Academy for Social Action Deming, W. E. 198
(CASA) 176–7 democracy 132; defending public 177–80;
corporate statutory tax rate 179 as democratic participation 167, 167–70;
corporate variation 94 education and 166; as inclusion 171–4;
corporations 177, 191; corporate taxes 179; sense of 166
as public institutions 178; public schools Democracy and Education (Dewey) 166
and 179–80; state-controlled 178–9 democracy-driven decision-making 196
Corrosion of Character: The Personal democratic citizenship 30–1
Consequences of Work in the New Democratic Leadership Council 24
Capitalism, The 146 democratic leadership, micropolitics of
Courtney, S. 152 99–102
Covello, Leonard 9, 197, 199 democratic participation, shared
CPA see critical policy analysis (CPA) governance and 97–9
CPRE 117 democratic professionalism 155–8
criminal justice movement 192 democratic schooling 9–11
critical policy analysis (CPA) 21, 39, 40, democratic socialism 24
42, 144, 193, 210; guiding framework democratic theory 103
for 21–2; implications for praxis Democrats for Education Reform (DFER)
210–12; issue or problem definition 113–14
31; key features of 32; new governance DeVos, Betsy 10, 49, 96, 219, 226
33; policy implementation 32; policy Dewey, John 165, 166, 212, 213
process 31–2 DFER see Democrats for Education
critical policy praxis 191, 192–6; education Reform (DFER)
researchers and 198–9; Foster, Marcus “disruptive innovation” 2
194–6 diverse provider 95
critical race theory (CRT) 39, 220 Doerr, John 122, 154
Crosby, B. 169 Douglas, Michael 223
234 INDEX

Dream and utopia 211 EMOs see education management

Dreamers, The 13 organizations (EMOs)
DuBois, W.E.B. 109 Empowerment Regime 92, 95
Ducey, Doug 154 End of Politics, The (Boggs) 99
Duncan, Arne 120 ends of participation 168
“dynamic conservatism” 201 Engels, F. 26
Dzur, A. 156 entrepreneurialism 8, 94–5
entrepreneurial leadership, in
Eastern Europe: democracy 177 education 5–9
“echo chamber” effect 52 Entrepreneurial State, The (Mazzucato)
economic capital 171 11, 214
economic goals of schooling 29–30 Epic Charter Schools 133
economic inequality 1, 3 epistemology of practice 220–2
Edelman, Murry 35, 37 equal educational opportunity 166
Edison Schools 79 equity 72–3, 132
education: entrepreneurial leadership ERAOs see education reform advocacy
5–9; leadership research 11; machinery organizations (ERAOs)
to mobilize citizens 13; market-based “eruption” of policy activism 84
approach to 5; neoliberal reform model ESEA see Elementary and Secondary
in 223–4; for personal fulfillment 30–1; Education Act (ESEA)
newsletters 217–18; as public good 225; ESSA see Every Student Succeeds Act
public investment in 3–4; reclaiming (ESSA)
vision of 225–6; research 193, 220; as ETIN see Educational Technology Industry
state responsibility 69; transformative Network (ETIN)
power of 224–6 Every Student Succeeds Act (ESSA) 59,
educational advocacy groups 113 70, 71, 76, 154; devolution of federal
educational leadership 60–1, 100 authority 103; implementation of 74
Educational Technology Industry Network Evetts, J. 150, 152
(ETIN) 158n2
education bureaucracies 91 Fair Housing Act 12
education leaders 50, 90, 131–3, 217, 224–6 Fair test 193–4
education management organizations “fast capitalism” 25
(EMOs) 70, 77, 78–80 Federal Election Commission 119
education policy: education leaders federal government 69, 72, 76
contribution to 9; federal role in 70–2; Feinberg, Mike 79, 80
politics of 129–30; research 21 Fenwick, T. 157
education reform advocacy organizations Fine, M. 175
(ERAOs) 70, 114 First Amendment 178
effective schools research 93 Fisher, Delores 81
Eisenstein, Z. 40 Fisher, Donald 81
electoral politics, independent expenditures Fisher, Mark 25
and 119–23 Fitzgerald, T. 145
Elementary and Secondary Education Act “flattened hierarchies” 145
(ESEA) 10, 70, 71, 74, 219 Foldy, E. 169, 170
emancipatory knowledge framework 221–2 Ford Foundation 108, 110
embedded liberalism 24 for-profit charter schools 78
Emergency School Aid Act of 1972 72 for-profit companies 223
 INDEX 235

Foster, John Bellamy 30 HCREOs see Hispanic Council for Reform

Foster, Marcus 9, 194–7, 211; on African- and Educational Options (HCREOs)
American clergy 194–5; goals of 196; Heartland Institute 52, 83
leadership 194; structural forms of Heritage Foundation 83, 111
oppression 195 Heybach, J. A. 3
Foundation for Individual Rights in “high and low maintenance” students 6
Education (FIRE) 3 High School I (1960) 213
foundations 80–2 High School II 213
Fourteenth Amendment (U.S. Hispanic Council for Reform and
Constitution) 70, 76, 178 Educational Options (HCREOs) 116
Freedom Schools 199 Historically Black Colleges and
Freidman, Milton 24, 25, 49, 177, 219 Universities (HBCUs) 108
Freidson, E. 153 Hoover Institution 111
Freire, Paulo 211, 213 Horsford, S. D. 15
Friedman, Milton 5, 28, 35 Howard, Jeff 73
Fukuyama, F. 25 human capital theory 29
human relations theories 144–5
Galbraith, James K. 29 Hume, David 22
Gallup Poll 181 Huxley, Aldous 165
Gándara, Patricia 42
Gates, Bill 126 “ideal theory” 2
Gekko, Gorden 223 incentive payment plans 52
Gilborn, D. 33 individual self-interest 29–30
Giroux, H. A. 11 institutional racism 58
Glass-Steagall Act 24–5 In the Crossfire: Marcus Foster and the
Goals 2000: Educate America Act in 1994 73 Troubled History of American School Reform
goals of schooling 28, 29, 213; economic (Spencer) 194
29–30; humanistic 30–1 It Can’t Happen Here (Lewis) 165
Goldstein, J. 214–15 iTeach Texas 4
Good to Great 37 Ivy League universities 172, 173
GPSN see Great Public Schools Now
(GPSN) Jabbar, H. 52
Gratz High School 195 Jim Crow institutions 108
Great Public Schools Now (GPSN) 91, 124 John M. Olin Foundation 83, 111
Green Dot Public Schools 116 Johnson, R. 169
Greenleaf, Robert 225 Johnson’s Great Society 72
Gunter, H. 145 Joyce, Michael 112
Gutierrez, K. 202 Julius Rosenwald Fund 108
Gym, Helen 191
Kant, Immanuel 22
Hage, John 79 K-12, Inc. 223
Harvey, David 24, 25 Kingdon, J. W. 32
Hastings, Reed 78 KIPP (Knowledge is Power Program)
Hawkins-Stafford Amendments of 1988 73 Charter Schools 79–81, 116, 199
Hayak, Friedrich 24 Klein, Joel 91, 125
HBCUs see Historically Black Colleges Klein, Naomi 35
and Universities (HBCUs) Koch, David 83
236 INDEX

Koch, Fred 83 Marx, K. 26

Krasner, Larry 191 MAS program see Mexican-American
Kuhn, John 200 Studies (MAS) program
Kurillof, P. 42 Massachusetts Charter School Handbook, The 78
Master, Anjua 81
Labaree, D. 28, 209 Matsuda, Mike 133–5
Ladson-Billings, G. 39, 54 Mayer, Jane 211
Lafer, G. 53, 123, 180 Mazzoni, T. L. 84
Lakoff, George 36 Mazzucato, M. 11, 214
Lasswell, H. 40 Meier, Deborah 9, 175
LA Students 4 Change 120 merit pay plans 51–2
“late capitalism” 25 #Me Too 210
Laura, C. 96 Mexican-American Studies (MAS)
Laura Spelman Rockefeller Memorial 110 program 201, 202
Leadership (Burns) 99 Meyer, H. 91
leadership, distributing 196 micropolitics: of democratic leadership
Leadership for Education Equity (LEE) 121 99–102, 100; of schools 34
Leadership Public Schools 81 Milkin, Michael 223
leadership theories 2 Millennials 174
LEE see Leadership for Education Equity Milliken v. Bradley 40
(LEE) Mill, John Stuart 22
Levin, David 79, 80 Mills, Charles 23
Lewis, Sinclair 165 Minow, Martha 14
liberalism 21; classical 23–4; critique of 23; “mission-oriented” charter schools 55
U.S. education policy and 22–3 multiple policy streams 32
Lippman, Walter 165
Lipsky, M. 32 NAACP (National Association for the
“little p-policies” 33 Advancement of Colored People) 13–14
Locke, John 22, 23 NAFTA see North American Free Trade
Los Angeles Times 120 Agreement (NAFTA)
Los Angeles Unified School District NAS see National Association of Scholars
(LAUSD) school board elections 90, (NAS)
120, 124 National Alliance for Public Charter
Los Angeles, venture philanthropies in 124 Schools 116
Lynch, Kathleen 31 National Association for the Advancement
Lynde and Harry Bradley Foundation 111 of Colored People 53
National Association of Public Charter
McDermott, K. A. 199 Schools 49
McDonald 213 National Association of Scholars (NAS) 3
McGrath, D. 42 National Center for Education Statistics
Malen, B. 97, 167, 168, 170, 182 1–2
Manhattan Institute 111 National Commission on Excellence in
Manifesto of the Communist Party, The 26 Education (NCEE) 71–2
Man in the Principal’s Office, The (Walcott) 176 National Council for Accreditation of
Market Regimes 92, 94–5 Teacher Education (NCATE) 3
Marshall, K. 39 National Institute of Health (NIH) 214
Martin, Trayvon 83 Nation at Risk report 4, 5, 35, 37, 71–2
 INDEX 237

Navajo reservation 15 Nixon 72

NCATE see National Council for No Child Left Behind Act (NCLB) 6, 30,
Accreditation of Teacher Education 59, 71, 73, 74–5, 84, 85
(NCATE) “No Excuses” charter schools 55, 56, 58
NCLB see No Child Left Behind Act Noguera, P. A. 74
(NCLB) nonpartisan 501(c)(3) organizations 120
neoliberal culture 146–7 North American Free Trade Agreement
neoliberalism 21–3; capitalism and 25–8; (NAFTA) 24, 178
free-market economic models 25; social NPE see Network for Public Education
democracy to 24–5 (NPE)
neoliberal policies 24–6 NPM see new public management (NPM)
neo-Taylorism 143 NSVF see New Schools Venture Fund
“neo vouchers” 51 (NSVF)
Network for Public Education (NPE) 193 NTRT see New Orleans New Teachers’
new capitalism 145 Roundtable (NTRT)
“new economy” 29, 145–6 NYCDOE see New York City Department
new education professional 153–5 of Education (NYCDOE)
new entrepreneurial professionals, audit Nygreen, K. 199
culture and 151–3
New Leaders for New Schools 4 Obama, Barack 25, 74, 75
new managerialism 143 occupational professionalism 150, 155
New Orleans New Teachers’ Roundtable Occupy Wall Street 210
(NTRT) 203–4 Ogawa, R. 97, 158, 167, 168, 170, 182, 223
New Orleans, venture philanthropies in Olin Foundation 112
123–4 Oliver L. Brown et al. v. The Board of
new policy entrepreneurs 144 Education of Topeka (KS) 14
new professionalism 144; emergence 1984 (Orwell) 165
of 150–1; new education professional 1974 special education law 32
153–5; new entrepreneurial professionals open leadership style 99, 101
151–3; new public management and “opportunity hoarding” 10, 172
143–7, 148–9 Orfield, Gary 42
new public management (NPM) 142, 210, organizational professionalism 150, 155
211, 226; agenda 218; new professional Orwell, George 165
and 143–7, 148–9; teacher-proof Ospina, S. 169, 170
reforms 180
NewSchools Venture Fund (NSVF) 81, Pandolfo, N. 4, 153
121, 122–3, 154 PAR see peer assistance and review (PAR)
New Teacher Project 154 parents 61–2; authentic participation 168;
New York City Department of Education as individual consumers 57–8; low-
(NYCDOE) 125, 141 income 173; school choice policies 54–5;
New York Performance Standards welfare for children 41–2
Consortium 214 Parent-Teacher Associations 129
New York Times 170 parent trigger laws 52–3
New York, venture philanthropies in 125 participatory action research 197, 198–9
Nicotera, A. C. 72 partisan 501(c)(4) organizations 120
NIH see National Institute of Health Passeron, J. 174, 175
(NIH) Pedagogy of the Oppressed (Freire) 211
238 INDEX

peer assistance and review (PAR) 156, Professional Standards for Educational
214–15 Leaders (PSEL) 2
Penner, Carrie Walton 121 Progressive Policy Institute (PPI) 24
periods of professionalization 147, 148–9 Proposition 30 119
Phantom Public, The (Lippman) 165 Proposition 32 119
Philadelphia schools 191 PSEL see Professional Standards for
philanthropy: critiques of traditional Educational Leaders (PSEL)
110–11; funding strategy of 118; growth public accountability 41
of CMOs 117; independent expenditures Public and its Problems, The (Dewey) 165
and 119–23, 120; network of 109; new era public education 3, 49; bureaucratization of
of 110–12, 112; in U.S. education 108–10; 57; privatization of 192; see also education
venture 107, 112–19 public investment 219; in education
Philanthropy Roundtable 116 218–20; policies of 219
Pisces Foundation 79–81 public schools 3, 16, 23, 26, 28, 95, 166,
PLCs see professional learning 171, 210, 213; biases and inequities
communities (PLCs) 215–16; business start-up 8; corporate
Polanyi, K. 24 leaders and 179; crisis of 181; defending
policy actors 77, 82 181–2; democratic vision of 191; female
policy entrepreneurs 82 and leaders of color 60–1; goals of 28,
policymakers 10, 51, 53–4, 62, 82, 113, 126 29; humanistic education 201; leadership
policy process 31–3 5; for poor families 8–9; principals 6–7;
political ideology 22 privatization of 178, 224; putting public
“political” schools 99 back in 96–7
political spectacle 35, 37–8 public sector, destabilized 35
Politics, markets and American schools (Chubb
and Moe) 40, 111 “quality circles” 198
Polk Charter Foundation 79
Pope, D. C. 30 Race to the Top (RTTT) program 74, 75,
“portfolio districts” 95 84; accountability and competition 76;
portfolio management models 143 markets and competition 75
power: accountable for policy outcomes Radical Possibilities (Anyon) 192
40–1; cognitive notions of 34; Ravitch, Diane 125
distribution of 222–4; resources and 40 Reagan, Ronald 5, 25, 71, 181
PPI see Progressive Policy Institute (PPI) Reardon, S. 8
praxis: implications for 217–20, 222, 224; reciprocal accountability 170
tenets of 211–12 Relay Graduate School of Education 4
Precious Knowledge 201 Reproduction in Education, Society and
Prep for Prep 172 Culture 174
principals 6–7, 61, 99, 101, 103, 142, restorative justice programs 156
151, 172; African-American 195; as Rethinking Schools 194
community organizers 199; effective 93 Ridge, Tom 79
“principled resistance” 158 Rist, R. 174
private schools 172, 201 Rockefeller Foundation 108
privilege 171 Rogers, Thomas 41, 170
professional learning communities (PLCs) Rowan, B. 91, 98
6, 8, 167, 197, 197–9 RTTT program see Race to the Top
Professional Regime 92, 93–4 (RTTT) program
professional responsibility 157 Ryan, Paul 4
 INDEX 239

Sahlberg, Pasi 179 “social justice for the advantaged” 15

SAM (Scaffolded Apprenticeship Model) 142 social movement 192–3
San Antonio School District v. Rodriguez 69 social reproduction 172
Sanders, Bernie 24 Social Security 12
Save our Schools 194 “socio-critical literacy” 202
school administrators 5, 15, 142, 152 Solbrekke, T. 157
school and district leaders 59, 103, 104, Sondel, B. 203–4
169, 197 Soviet Union 5, 177
school-based management 197 Spellings, Margaret 126
school boards 89, 131, 180 Spencer, John 194
school choice policies 50, 61–2; charter SPN see State Policy Network (SPN)
schools 51; forms of competition 53–4; Stand for Children 113
low-income parents and 54–5; merit Standing Rock pipeline protesters 210
pay 51–2; parent trigger laws 52–3; Stand Your Ground law 83
progressive equity policies and 57; state education policy 70
socioeconomic and racial segregation State Innovation Exchange (SIX) 84–5
56–7; student outcomes and 54–6; state-level accountability systems 155
tuition tax credits 51; vouchers 52 state-level education policy 82–5
school desegregation 53–4 State Policy Network (SPN) 83
school districts 131; governance 89; Stone, D. 14, 15
leadership 1, 2, 59; restructuring of 90–1 structural adjustment 25
school governance regimes 91–6, 92 student outcomes, school choice policies
school leaders 10, 131 and 54–6
school reform, market-based approach to 5 students empowerment 201–3
“school syndrome” 209 Students First 113
SCOs see Social Change Organizations Sugrue, C. 157
(SCOs) sustainability 131–2
Scott, Charles 14 symbolic violence 174–7
Scott, John 14 systemic effects 123–5
Sennett, Richard 145–7
servant leadership 225 Taft, Governor 78
shared governance, democratic Tate, W. 39
participation and 97–9 tax bill (2017) 170
Shipps, D. 7, 91, 94, 95 Taylor, Frederick 143
Silicon Schools Fund 116 teachers 100, 141, 152, 158; certification 3;
Silicon Valley organization 81 inquiry group 167; as instructional leader
Sizemore, Barbara 9 5–6; merit pay plans for 51; relevant
Smith, Adam 22, 24 participation 168; strike in Chicago 96;
Smith, Kim 81 third spaces for 203–4; training 153;
Smith, Linda Tuhiwai 40 union in Chicago 182
Smith, M. 4, 153 Teachers for social justice, Chicago 193
Social Change Organizations (SCOs) 169 Teachers Unite, NYC 193
social democracy 21, 23 Teach for America’s (TFA’s) 50, 115,
social/economic reproduction 174 146, 154
social efficiency 29–30 technocratic knowledge framework 220,
social inequality 171 221
social justice 3; leadership 9; within schools Tenth Amendment 70, 76
12–13 TFA see Two Teach For America (TFA)
240 INDEX

Thatcher, Margaret 26 Valli, L. 153

theory of social reproduction 171 venture philanthropies 80–2, 107, 112–19,
third spaces 201–2; examples of 202; 130; Broad Education Foundation
as hybrid spaces 202–3; students 121–2; democratic tensions 125–8;
empowerment 201–3; for teachers 203–4 funding strategy of 118; Los
Thomson, P. 34 Angeles 124; New Orleans 123–4;
TINA principle 26 NewSchools Venture Fund 122–3;
Tinkering Toward Utopia: Toward a Century New York 125; restructuring public
of Public School Reform 11 education 126; Walton Family
Todd, Lucinda 14 Foundation 122
total quality management 198 Voting Rights Act 12
Tough Choices or Tough Times 29 voucher program 52, 78
TPP see Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP)
transactional leadership 2, 99–101 Walcott, Harry 176
transformational leadership 2–3 Walton Family Foundation 80, 111,
transformative leadership 100, 101, 217 122, 126
Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) 178 Walton, Helen 122
Trump, Donald 25, 42, 165, 170, 219, Walton, Sam 122
224–6 Washington, Booker T. 108
tuition tax credits 51 Watkins, W. H. 59–61
Two Teach For America (TFA) 79–80, wealth inequality 129
126–7 Weatherly, R. 32
2017 Tax Cuts and Jobs Act 3 Weaver-Hightower, M. 37
Tyack. D. 11 Weber, Max 144, 145
Weick, K. E. 91
Uncommon Schools 116, 199 Welch, A. R. 150–1
United Nations International Children’s Wells, Amy Stuart 116
Emergency Fund (UNICEF) Report Welner, K. 51
Card 181 White Hat Management 78
United Opt Out 194 White, M. 7
United States: education system 72; Whitfield, D. 35
inequality in schools 1 Whittle, Chris 79
United Teachers of Los Angeles 124 Who Moved My Cheese? 146
university-based teacher education 154–5 Wilson, W.J. 36
US Centers for Disease Control and Wiseman, Frederick 213
Prevention (CDC) 214 women leadership 60–1
U.S. civil rights movement 13 Wong, K. K 72
U.S. Congress legislation 110 Woodson, Carter G. 213
Usdan, M. D. 89
U.S. Department of Education 173 Zeichner, K. 4, 154, 155
U.S. education policy, liberalism and 22–3 Zimmerman, George 83
U.S.-E.U. bilateral investment treaties 178 Zimmer, Steve 90, 120