Recent policy innovations such as education savings accounts, microgrants, and tax credits address some of the financial barriers that prevent families from accessing flexible education opportunities. But there remains a stark divide—often along predictable lines of race and income—between how, where, and when students learn, and affordability is only one part of the problem.
Consider, for example, the experience of two of my students—Leah and Anthony—during my time as a high school teacher.
A common complaint I received was that my class was boring. When I encouraged my students, at the very least, to be nuanced in their criticism, they shared that we never talked about the things they were interested in or excited about. The problem was that my class wasn’t designed to acknowledge or nurture the entirety of who each of them was. No school is designed to do that.
Leah, like all of my students, had a unique mix of interests and talents, many of which never made their way into my lesson plans. But unlike many of my students, she was fortunate enough to access a suite of activities beyond my classroom that nurtured her passions and built her academic skills: She took horseback riding lessons, attended weekly art history seminars at the public library, and worked with a private tutor to improve her ACT score.
Anthony, one of Leah’s classmates, shared her curiosity (and her needling of my sartorial and instructional choices). But he wanted educational opportunities he didn’t have and that I couldn’t provide on my own. The books he checked out from my class library—”The Turn of the Screw,” a collection of Maya Angelou’s poetry, Brent Staples’s memoir—illustrated his wide-ranging interests. He wanted to take a dual-credit English composition course, but he didn’t have a ride that could get him to school at 7:30 a.m. for the class. Anthony also experienced a brain injury in middle school and confided in me that he’d visited an occupational therapist until his mom could no longer afford it.
Leah and Anthony were equally bright and diligent students, and their families were equally invested in their education. But, through no fault of their own, only one of them had access to customized learning experiences. A lack of access to these opportunities for marginalized students exacerbates longstanding inequities in our education system that the Covid-19 pandemic deepened. Here are some ways to fix that.
Relationship-based navigation is essential to building a flexible and equitable learning ecosystem.
Today’s ecosystem of learning options is a spaghetti junction of providers, schools, services, and supports. Navigating it can be overwhelming without reliable sources of information and guidance.
Trained advisers, or navigators, can and do fill this gap by earning families’ trust, curating information about learning opportunities, and tackling barriers to access. For a student like Anthony, this could look like working with a navigator invested in getting to know him and understanding his needs and goals. This navigator could collaborate with Anthony and his mom to find dual credit courses or to enroll in an ESA that would cover the cost of his occupational therapy. Unfortunately, these services can be time- and cost-intensive, making them challenging to scale and leaving families like Anthony’s without the support they need.
Technology can improve and scale relationship-based navigation.
Technology is part of the solution, especially with the exponential growth of artificial intelligence. It’s not hard to imagine AI-powered tools that provide families with information and financial support, match students to providers and programs, and help families identify high-quality learning options.
Although these solutions likely aren’t enough to support families like Anthony’s, they could expand the reach and impact of navigators who are well-positioned to do so. Technology solutions could transform the work of navigators by enabling them to concentrate on the human aspects of their roles. Imagine Anthony’s navigator using an online tool to pinpoint service providers matched to his unique needs and interests. This streamlined, AI-powered process would enable a navigator to spend more time guiding Anthony in selecting the right options and thinking about each of them as part of a broader plan to achieve his goals.
There are endless use cases for these kinds of technology solutions. Many hold the same promise of positioning navigators to serve more families and provide more personalized, tailored support to students who would benefit most.
To develop solutions that advance equity, technology innovators must partner with families, students, and navigators.
Emerging tools and platforms to help students and families navigate education options exist, but many are in the early stages of development. Innovators must engage students, families, and navigators in the product development process to ensure that tools provide the features families and students need while avoiding unintended consequences that could exacerbate barriers. Innovators should go the extra mile to learn from families like Anthony’s, who need increased access to flexible learning.
Technology combined with relationship-based navigation can pave the way for more accessible, practical, affordable, and equitable customized learning. By focusing on the needs of families furthest from opportunity, innovators can streamline connections between families, educational options, and communities. It’s those connections that could have given Anthony the same opportunities as Leah—and can help ensure all students have access to the flexible learning experiences they deserve.
