Category: Family Engagement

Bad Day, Dark Night, Or Wretched World View?

10/8/2025

In two months, I’ll end my term on the school board. These four years have been eventful in our school division, in some ways that are unique to Arlington and in other ways that will feel familiar nearly everywhere.

Over the past four years a lot has happened in my life outside the school board, too. My mother got sick with cancer and died. One member of my close family suffered a significant mental health crisis. Another was diagnosed with early onset dementia. I’ve been laid off twice. I very nearly lost a relationship with someone dear to me. I went through menopause.

It’s been the most difficult time of my life. I’m not sharing this to court pity; I know some of my board colleagues have shouldered their own sorrows and challenges, too. And I’m not suggesting that my school board work has been an additional burden. Actually, it has given me a sense of purpose and community that has been a balm.

I bring it up because these difficult experiences remind me that quite often, we don’t know what’s going on in other people’s lives.

When people seek me out as a school board member, sometimes they are not calm or kind. It’s sometimes tempting to write them off or refuse to engage until they can be more level-headed. I’m uncomfortable, however, with this idea that constituents have to conform to my definition of “level-headed” or “reasonable” or “respectful”. I’m acutely aware that there’s already a power imbalance: I make decisions that feel incredibly consequential when you’re a parent worried about your child or a staff member wanting to do your very best work.

Outside of the issue at hand, these people are often juggling other worries. I’ve learned that the Department of Government Efficiency eliminated their spouse’s job. Or they’ve lost extended family in a war-torn country halfway around the world. Their son has relapsed after rehab. (All real examples.) They are, like all of us at one time or another, in a dark night of the soul.

I met Dylan Marron in the first of the two jobs I lost while on the school board. Dylan taught an online course I produced called “How to Connect in a Divided World". He is something of an expert on this subject, having hosted an award-winning podcast called “Conversations With People Who Hate Me”. He reached out to people who had trolled him online, asked if they’d be open to a phone call, and invited them into a conversation. I encourage you to check it out.

Dylan suggests that when you encounter someone who seems like an asshat (my word, not his), you come up with one or two backstories about that person’s day or week or month. What might be fueling their anger or impatience? It’s a great way to move towards curiosity and compassion instead of judgment and retaliatory ill will.

Dylan also suggests that the rules of engagement shouldn’t center on whether we think the other person is respectful or level-headed. Rather, it’s about whether we feel like we’ll be physically and emotionally safe if we interact.

These ideas and practices help me through most of the difficult encounters I have, inside and outside my school board life. But sometimes I wonder—and increasingly, lately—how much compassion and understanding I should summon for someone who is not making me feel physically or emotionally unsafe, but whose opinions or actions make life feel unsafe for others.

During the 2018-2019 school year when I led a local education nonprofit, my organization sponsored a monthly series for DC high school students called “Speak Truth”. Students from across DC’s public and private schools gathered to discuss topics they identified were important to them. One month, they talked about belonging and inclusion.

A student at Georgetown Day School shared that he felt like an outsider because he was a political conservative in what he experienced as an overwhelmingly liberal school community. He wondered whether those on the left who championed inclusion could actually include people on the right.

A DACA student from Dunbar High School responded, “There is this idea of inclusion, and there is also a more basic right to exist. I can include anyone until they deny my right to exist.”

Her statement stuck with me. Someone’s right to exist. Their ability to access the same opportunities and protections that are available to others.

This goes beyond someone having a bad day, or a dark night of the soul, and not being the best version of themselves as they interact with others: it’s about creating the conditions that make others unsafe or define them as less than human. And it’s not exclusively a conservative thing or a liberal thing: it’s a close-minded, power-hoarding thing, an ungenerous and zero-sum view of humanity.

For a long time, I wasn’t sure what to do with this, what it meant for me in my interactions with other humans. I’m still not entirely sure I know. But I lean towards the idea that engagement is still the answer. (If safety is not at stake.) In his TED Talk, Dylan said:

Now in every one of my calls, I always ask my guests to tell me about themselves. And it's their answer to this question that allows me to empathize with them. And empathy, it turns out, is a key ingredient in getting these conversations off the ground, but it can feel very vulnerable to be empathizing with someone you profoundly disagree with. So I established a helpful mantra for myself. Empathy is not endorsement. Empathizing with someone you profoundly disagree with does not suddenly compromise your own deeply held beliefs and endorse theirs. Empathizing with someone who, for example, believes that being gay is a sin doesn't mean that I'm suddenly going to drop everything, pack my bags and grab my one-way ticket to hell, right? [Dylan is gay.] It just means that I'm acknowledging the humanity of someone who was raised to think very differently from me ….

I'm also aware that this talk will appear on the internet. And with the internet comes comment sections, and with comment sections inevitably comes hate. So as you are watching this talk, you can feel free to call me whatever you'd like. You can call me a "gaywad," a "snowflake," a "cuck," a "beta," or "everything wrong with liberalism." But just know that if you do, I may ask you to talk. And if you refuse or block me automatically or agree and hang up on me, then maybe, babe, the snowflake is you.

Closing or moving schools: the why, when, and how

6/19/2025

During my four years on the School Board, the question of closing a school or program has come up three times. A month into my term, the School Board voted to pause the Virtual Learning Program, effectively ending it. In 2023, we considered whether to close Nottingham Elementary as a way to create swing space that would facilitate other, future school renovation and construction projects. This spring, we considered eliminating the Integration Station preschool program for budgetary reasons.

There's nothing I can think of that generates more upset for a school division. If Superintendents and School Boards are going to propose closing a school, it has to be done with an ironclad rationale and with the utmost care.

In Fairfax County in the 1980s, both my elementary and high schools were closed due to declining enrollment while I attended. As a parent and a PTA leader, I participated in deliberations that led to the closure of McKinley, my kids' elementary school. (At the time APS proposed this, it was not guaranteeing that the entire school community would move together to the newly-constructed Cardinal Elementary, which is why it is correctly categorized as a school closing.) During that same process, APS moved two option programs, Escuela Key and Arlington Traditional School.

So--I have some history with this topic. Because of that, and because of my most recent experience with Integration Station, I have been curious about how APS and other school divisions could improve how we take up this topic and make good decisions. I reached out to staff and families who are part of the Integration Station, Nottingham, and VLP communities to learn about their experiences and hear their ideas for how we could do this better. (Please note: While to my knowledge there are no immediate plans to close or move anyone in Arlington, I do think it would behoove us to develop a policy and related processes that would govern this if it comes up again.)

I spoke with 13 individuals and here's what I heard:

1. Identify clear goals. What problem(s) are we trying to solve? What initial data suggest that closing or moving this school or program will be a good solution? These goals should not change during the decision making process. The individuals I spoke to felt like the following would be reasonable goals to identify:

Budget savings
Addressing facility usage and capacity issues
Addressing staffing issues (e.g., ensuring there are sufficient qualified staff for a particular program)
Insufficient impact/effectiveness (for an option school or specialized program)
It is part of a larger strategy (e.g., expansion of an option program, reimagining how we provide services in PreK, etc.).
The result of this Step No. 1 should be a clear answer to the question: Why was this particular school or program identified?

2. Involve the right people. Before a closure or move is recommended to the School Board and communicated to the public, there should be serious deliberation among a group that includes:

The Superintendent: Given that this is one of the most challenging, and likely upsetting, decisions that a school division can make, folks would like to know that the leader of the division is directly involved and will take ownership of the recommendation.
Chief of School Support
Facilities: Assistant Superintendent and Director of Facilities and Operations
Transportation: Assistant Superintendent and Executive Director
Director of Special Education
Director of English Learners
Executive Director of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion
Specific supervisors within the Office of Academics, as necessary and appropriate (i.e., for Integration Station, head of Early Childhood)
Director of Budget
1-2 current or immediate past member(s) of the Facilities Advisory Council (FAC)
Principal(s) of affected programs/schools
School Board liaison.

The individuals I spoke with felt particularly strongly about the need to include the principal(s) as individuals with deep, specific knowledge of their school community and the impacts that would need to be anticipated and planned for. They also strongly recommended incorporating Transportation from the start and consistently including Special Education, English Learning, and DEI so that the needs of specific populations are always factored in.

I shared a worry that involving school principals and/or FAC representatives might risk making something public before a recommendation is fully developed. The individuals I spoke with suggested that this worry implies a lack of trust: “Why would you assume that people can’t exercise professionalism and discretion?” They advised that the greater risk was bringing forward an ill-conceived recommendation because we hadn’t involved the right people from the outset.

3. Utilize a clear decision making framework. This group should employ a checklist of essential questions that need to be answered, including:

Is there another way that APS could achieve its goal(s) without closing or moving this school or program? (consideration of alternative scenarios)
Is this decision out of sync with other initiatives in APS? (For instance, we are going to close or move an Immersion program site but we are making this decision one year ahead of a comprehensive Immersion visioning process; we identify swing space well before we’re certain we’ll even need it.)
What special characteristics of this school community need to be considered and planned for?
Will there be disproportionate impact on specific populations? This could include
- Students and families that have already been affected by a closure, move, or boundary change. One parent noted that it is really important to consider moving preschool and countywide special education programs in this light. Though we tend to think of these particular moves as decisions that are purely capacity-related, they in fact separate children and families from their existing school community. One parent shared that her ninth grade son has already gone through five school moves due to a) changes in location for special education PreK, b) site changes for countywide programs for students with disabilities in grades K-8, as well as c) the discontinuation of the Virtual Learning Program.
- Economically disadvantaged families. Considerations here might include parents’ ability to reach the new school/program location via public transportation, or the impact of leaving behind established community supports (e.g., a food pantry, afterschool program, volunteer tutoring partnership, etc.).
- Students and families historically disadvantaged by virtue of their race/ethnicity and/or other identities. Are these populations bearing the brunt of a school closure or move, in this instance as well as over time? Will we be placing students in a new environment where they will have fewer (or no) peers who share their identity(ies)?
- Students identified for special education services, English learner instruction, and/or advanced academics.
What will happen to the staff at this school or program? What clear information can we provide about what will happen and when? Will the timing of this decision align with the timing for hiring and job placements the following year?
How will this closure or move impact enrollment and capacity at other schools?
How will this closure or move impact students’ travel to and from school (e.g., length of bus rides, need for additional or altered bus routes, walkability)
Will we offer any opportunities for grandfathering particular students or phasing out a school or program over time? Why or why not? If our approach here is inconsistent with what we’ve offered before, do we have clear reasons why we are doing it differently this time?
In two or three years’ time, how will we know if we have achieved our goals? What will be the process for evaluating and communicating this?

4. If a recommendation is going to be made to close or move a school or program, develop a comprehensive communications plan in advance. Who needs to be informed? Who needs to be engaged? When and how should we reach out to those groups? This would include families, students, and staff at the school or program in question; staff and students at the school(s) receiving any new students as a result of the change; community organizations partnering with the school or program in question; the County Board; and the general public.

The individuals I spoke with observed that sometimes the very valid reasons for recommending a change get lost in the way it is communicated. They suggest the following improvements in communication and engagement:

The initial information to the affected parents, staff, and students should come from a known and trusted source. Most of the individuals I spoke with felt that the news would have been easier to receive if it had come from their school principal, or their principal and someone in central office together. When they don’t have any connection with the person delivering this news, it creates confusion and mistrust.
The individuals I spoke to understand that not everyone is a gifted communicator in situations like these (though they may have many other talents!). Consider who beyond the principal is engaging with the affected school communities most directly. Are they the best choice, in terms of their knowledge, listening skills, and empathy? Be intentional about who you choose here.
The Superintendent needs to be engaged with the affected school community at the outset, in a meeting and in written communication. They need to know that as the leader of the division, he believes this is the right thing to do. The individuals I spoke to feel like the Superintendent needs to be a solid “yes” in recommending the change. They would like the School Board to function as the respectful skeptic in need of convincing: “OK, make your case.”
The affected school community needs time with the School Board, outside of the limited windows provided by Public Comment and Open Office Hours.
Don’t assign a brand new School Board member to be the liaison to school that may be subject to a closure or move.
These meetings should be held at the school site, with interpreters available—APS comes to them, rather than asking them to come to us.
Don’t change the goals. Every division leader and school board member should be communicating the same goals and rationale.
Anticipate questions that are likely to come up and have answers ready. If a question comes up that can’t be answered immediately, share when and how that information will be ready.
Show your work. Provide the data and analysis that fueled the recommendation. Be ready to meet with individuals and groups who have questions about the data or alternative interpretations. Currently, it feels like it falls to parents to ask for and analyze supporting data, and only certain school communities are equipped to organize and advocate in this way.
Meet in person early on with affected staff members.
More meetings and conversations. Fewer exchanges via trading questions and answers in writing via memos and FAQs. When written information is provided, clearly identify the date and source(s) of the information—version control. One parent noted that the boundary adjustments for Elementary School Immersion a few years ago went well because there was direct outreach to every affected family—which admittedly is not always possible, but goes a long way.

If you have experience with this issue and can suggest other thoughtful improvements, I'd love to hear from you. I believe that the School Board does its best work when it listens closely and is open to making positive course corrections based on what it learns. In four years, I have never been disappointed when I've done so.

Family - School Partnerships

10/6/2022

How much influence should parents have over what happens in their children’s schools?

You already know this question has sparked some lively discussion across our state and in the national news.

And it doesn’t have a simple answer.

At one extreme: an old-school approach. Parents are “informed” more often than “engaged” as collaborators. Parents are invited to support the school in certain limited ways: as a room parent, a chaperone, a fundraiser.

I don’t like this approach because I know parents have more to offer and that schools are stronger when parents play a larger role. Research tells us that schools with strong family engagement are 10 times more likely to improve student learning outcomes, and that it matters as much as rigorous curriculum and high-quality school leadership.

At the other extreme, however, is an approach that feels equally untenable to me: parents who feel like they can—and must—weigh in on nearly every facet of their school’s operation. This approach is cumbersome, advantages those parents with the time and skills to advocate, telegraphs mistrust of school staff, and often has unintended negative consequences for the students we’re trying to educate.

For example, a new state law in Tennessee requires educators to catalog every book in every school. Some teachers who have built up sizable classroom libraries are opting to dismantle them because the cataloguing directive seems too daunting; it’s Tennessee’s students—only one-third of whom are reading at a “proficient” level—who will suffer.

So how do we strike the right balance? To help guide my own thinking, I’ve been spending some time with the PTA’s National Standards for Family-School Partnerships. There are several national organizations that have produced guidance about family engagement, but I am partial to the PTA’s work because it is a nonpartisan group with well-established governance regulations and financial transparency.

Just this year the PTA updated its Standards for Family-School Partnerships. The PTA’s iterative process involved more than 600 local and state PTA leaders, members, researchers and administrators.

Each of the six standards has related goals and performance indicators. You can find the full text on the PTA website, but in brief here are the standards:

1. Welcome all families — The school treats families as valued partners in their child’s education and facilitates a sense of belonging in the school community.

2. Communicate effectively — The school supports staff to engage in proactive, timely, and two-way communication so that all families can easily understand and contribute to their child’s educational experience.

3. Support student success — The school builds the capacity of families and educators to continuously collaborate to support students’ academic, social, and emotional learning.

4. Speak up for every child — The school affirms family and student expertise and advocacy so that all students are treated fairly and have access to relationships and opportunities that will support their success.

5. Share power — The school partners with families in decisions that affect children and families and together - as a team - inform, influence, and create policies, practices, and programs.

6. Collaborate with community — The school collaborates with community organizations and members to connect students, families, and staff to expanded learning opportunities, community services, and civic participation.

If you dig into what changed when the PTA updated its standards this year, you’ll find the following revisions, which feel very significant to me:

A shift from “opportunities to volunteer” to “opportunities to contribute”—signaling that parents have more to offer than simply filling volunteer slots. (But keep doing that, too!)
Where the standards previously acknowledged “economic barriers to participation,” they now speak to other linguistic and cultural barriers.
The standards now talk about co-developing communication expectations and protocols with families and staff.
Adding clear statements about eliminating bias in family engagement approaches and encouraging leadership among historically marginalized groups.
A shift from “informing” families about students’ academic progress to partnering with families to ensure two-way communication about students’ strengths and needs and to set goals.
Engaging families in decision making in ways that go beyond surveys. Tracking data and filling gaps for representative input and power in decisions so that diverse perspectives are considered.
Describing in more detail how school-community partnerships could be conceived and managed to benefit students and staff, including mapping community assets and needs, and aligning community partners to school improvement planning.

In short, what I see (that I like) in these standards is a shift towards inclusiveness, collaboration and sharing power.

But what does “sharing power” between schools and families entail?

I think it means drawing upon the strengths of the various players. Parents know their students in a way that teachers can’t. They know what may be particularly motivating or challenging for their kids, and this knowledge is gold in the hands of an interested teacher. Educators know the research-based approaches that will help all kinds of students move from Point A to Point B. They also have additional context: they’ve worked with dozens (or hundreds, or thousands) of students who may have benefitted from similar instructional strategies.

Educators also commit to serve the greater good—that means doing what’s right for all kids, not just what I think is right for my kid. Think about that: the significant work it takes and the incredible promise of every child feeing safe, valued, appropriately supported and intellectually challenged. No parent should ever have the right, in the name of “sharing power” or “parental control,” to take that away from another parent’s child.

Creating effective family-school partnerships is complex and increasingly contentious work. But just because it’s hard doesn’t mean it’s not worthwhile. The answer is not to double down on the old-school model that shuts families out or boxes them in. Instead, maybe we can create spaces where we can talk about this partnership model. Maybe in your parent group or school staff meeting—or better yet, all together—you can explore questions like these:

How can we learn about and meet families’ communication preferences?
How can parents improve the ways they communicate with school staff?
What would it look like if teachers, families and students worked together to set social, emotional and academic goals?
What are some new and potentially promising ways that school staff could get to know students and families and their strengths?
What work do we need to do (all around) to recognize and eliminate biases?
How could we give families and students a voice in decisions that affect children? What kinds of decisions? What does “a voice” mean to us?

I’d love to hear how you would answer these questions. Please reach out. I’m interested as a parent, a former PTA leader, and as a School Board member—because of course I believe that what the PTA has outlined for family-school partnerships is relevant for family-school district partnerships, too.

Bad Day, Dark Night, Or Wretched World View?

Closing or moving schools: the why, when, and how

Family - School Partnerships

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