The Education Gadfly Weekly

A major development of recent years has been the explosive growth of online learning in K–12 education. Sometimes it takes the form of “blended learning,” with students receiving a mix of online and face-to-face instruction. Students may also learn via web-based resources like the Khan Academy, or by enrolling in distance-learning “independent study” courses. In addition, an increasing number of pupils are taking the plunge into fully online schools: In 2015, an estimated 275,000 students enrolled in full-time virtual charter schools across twenty-five states.

The Internet has obviously opened a new frontier of instructional possibilities. Much less certain is whether such opportunities are actually improving achievement, especially for the types of students who enroll in virtual schools. In Enrollment and Achievement in Ohio's Virtual Charter Schools, we at Fordham examined this issue using data from our home state of Ohio, where online charter schools (“e-schools”) are a rapidly growing segment of K–12 education. Today they enroll more than thirty-five thousand students, one of the country’s largest populations of full-time online students. Ohio e-school enrollment has grown 60 percent over the last four years, a rate greater than any other type of public school. But even since they launched, e-schools have received negative press for their poor academic performance, high attrition rates, and questionable capacity to educate the types of students who choose them. It’s clearly a sector that needs attention.

Our study focuses on the demographics, course-taking patterns, and academic results of pupils attending Ohio’s e-schools. It was authored by Dr. June Ahn, an associate professor at New York University’s Steinhardt School of Culture, Education, and Human Development. He’s an expert in how technology can enhance how education is delivered and how students learn.

Using student-level data from 2009–10 through 2012–13, Dr. Ahn reports that e-schools serve a unique population. Compared to students in brick-and-mortar district schools, e-school students are initially lower-achieving (and more likely to have repeated the prior grade), more likely to participate in the federal free and reduced-price lunch program, and less likely to participate in gifted education. (Brick-and-mortar charters attract even lower-performing students.)

The analysis also finds that, controlling for demographics and prior achievement, e-school students perform worse than students who attend brick-and-mortar district schools. Put another way, on average, Ohio’s e-school students start the school year academically behind and lose even more ground (relative to their peers) during the year. That finding corroborates the disappointing results from Stanford University’s Center for Research on Education Outcomes (CREDO) 2015 analysis of virtual charter schools nationwide, which used a slightly different analytical approach.

Importantly, this study considers e-school students separately from those in other charters. It finds that brick-and-mortar charter students in grades 4–8 outperform their peers in district schools in both reading and math. In high school, brick-and-mortar charter students perform better in science, no better or worse in math, and slightly worse in reading and writing compared to students in district schools. This confirms what some Ohioans have long suspected: E-schools weigh down the overall impact of the Buckeye State’s charter sector. Separate out the e-school results and Ohio's brick-and-mortar charters look a lot better than when the entire sector is treated as a whole.

The consistent, negative findings for e-school students are troubling, to say the least. One obvious remedy is to pull the plug—literally and figuratively—but we think that would be a mistake. Surely it’s possible, especially as technology and online pedagogy improve, to create virtual schools that serve students well. The challenge now is to boost outcomes for online learners, not to eliminate the online option. We therefore offer three recommendations for policy makers and advocates in states that, like Ohio, are wrestling to turn the rapid development of online schools into a net plus for their pupils.

First, policy makers should adopt performance-based funding for e-schools. When students complete courses successfully and demonstrate that they have mastered the expected competencies, e-schools would get paid. This creates incentives for e-schools to focus on what matters most—academic progress—while tempering their appetite for enrollment growth and the dollars tied to it. It would also encourage them to recruit students likely to succeed in an online environment—a form of “cream-skimming” that is not only defensible but, in this case, preferable. At the very least, proficiency-based funding is one way for e-schools to demonstrate that they are successfully delivering the promised instruction to students. That should be appealing to them given the difficulty in defining, tracking, and reporting “attendance” and “class time” at an online school.

Second, policy makers should seek ways to improve the fit between students and e-schools. Based on the demographics we report, it seems that students selecting Ohio’s e-schools may be those least likely to succeed in a school format that requires independent learning, self-motivation, and self-regulation. Lawmakers could explore rules that exempt e-schools from policies requiring all charters, virtual ones included, to accept every student who applies and instead allow e-schools to operate more like magnet schools with admissions procedures and priorities. E-schools would be able to admit students best situated to take advantage of the unique elements of virtual schooling: flexible hours and pacing, a safe and familiar location for learning, a chance for individuals with social or behavioral problems to focus on academics, greater engagement from students who are able to choose electives based on their own interests, and the chance to develop high-level virtual communication skills. E-schools should also consider targeting certain students through advertising and outreach, especially if they can’t be selective. At the very least, states with fully online schools should adopt a policy like the one in Ohio, which requires such schools to offer an orientation course—the perfect occasion to set high expectations for students as they enter and let them know what would help them thrive in an online learning environment (e.g., a quiet place to study, a dedicated amount of time to devote to academics).

Third, policy makers should support online course choice (also called “course access”), so that students interested in web-based learning can avail themselves of online options without enrolling full-time. Ohio currently confronts students with a daunting decision: either transfer to a full-time e-school or stay in their traditional school and potentially be denied the chance to take tuition-free, credit-bearing virtual courses aligned to state standards. Instead of forcing an all-or-nothing choice, policy makers should ensure that a menu of course options is available to students, including courses delivered online. To safeguard quality and public dollars, policy makers should also create oversight to vet online options (and veto shoddy or questionable ones). Financing arrangements may need to change, too, perhaps in ways that more directly link funding to actual course providers. If it were done right, however, course choice would not only open more possibilities for students, but also ratchet up the competition that online schools face—and perhaps compel them to improve the quality of their own services.

Innovation is usually an iterative process. Many of us remember the earliest personal computers—splendid products for playing Oregon Trail, but now artifacts of the past. Fortunately, innovators and engineers kept pushing the envelope for faster, nimbler, smarter devices. Today, we are blessed as customers with easy-to-use laptops, tablets, and more. But proximity to technology, no matter how advanced, isn’t enough. E-schools and their kin should facilitate understanding of how best to utilize online curricula and non-traditional learning environments, especially for underserved learners. From this evidence base, providers should then be held to high standards of practice. Though the age of online learning has dawned, there is much room for improvement in online schooling—and nowhere more than in Ohio. For advocates of online learning, and educational choice, the work has just begun.

Dear Mark and Priscilla,

Please allow an aging education reformer to offer some unsolicited advice regarding the work of the new Chan Zuckerberg Initiative.

Almost twenty years ago, I wrote a long public letter to Bill Gates that drew lessons from earlier philanthropic efforts in K–12 education—including many billions of dollars wasted by the likes of Ford, Rockefeller, and Annenberg. In it, I offered suggestions for the most useful work that the then-new Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation might do in this realm, particularly by advancing the (also new) concept of charter schools.

In fact, Gates has done—and continues to do—good work in the charter sector. Much of what his foundation has undertaken in the K–12 realm, however, has fallen prey to the classic temptation to try to reform school districts. You—Mark—apparently succumbed to that same temptation when you committed $100 million to the renewal of public education in Newark, by way of both district and charter schools. Smart fellow that you are, you’ve acknowledged that the charter part of this generous gift has done some good (whereas the district part, not so much). You’ve probably read Dale Russakoff’s provocative book about what went wrong in Newark; she notes that you and then-Mayor Cory Booker intended “not [just] to repair education in Newark but to develop a model for saving it in all of urban America.” That obviously didn’t happen. Russakoff says the legacy of that ambitious effort includes as much rancor as reform in New Jersey’s largest city. The district’s new superintendent, Chris Cerf, is trying to bring people back together (see “Continuing Change in Newark”).

The lessons are broader than charter versus district, of course. They primarily concern the fundamental complexity of turning around the behemoth of public education, as well as the amount of time, sophistication, multitasking, and sustained effort that’s needed to cause it to deviate even a little from its traditional course. It’s also important to keep in mind that, as the University of Arkansas’s Jay Greene has repeatedly noted, philanthropy is a drop in public education’s huge fiscal bucket. It’s often possible for a sizable donor to get the K–12 system in a particular place to add some program, project, or activity that he is willing to pay for (with such additions generally lasting as long as the checks keep coming). But causing a district or state—even a single school—to alter its accustomed ways to any significant degree over the long haul takes more leverage than philanthropy can typically muster.

Sure, there are rare places—maybe just enough of them to keep reform-minded philanthropists doggedly trying to find more—where the stars align and the leadership is in place to make a change that the donor and local superintendent can agree on. Michelle Rhee and Kaya Henderson, aided by millions of private dollars, were able to institute epic reforms in both teacher evaluations and compensation in the District of Columbia Public Schools. With similar assistance, Michael Bennet and Tom Boasberg began to turn the Denver Public Schools into the country’s most advanced “portfolio” district. See, too, what Joel Klein accomplished with Mayor Michael Bloomberg’s backing and philanthropic aid in New York City. But as that city now vividly demonstrates under the watch of Mayor Bill de Blasio, such changes can prove ephemeral if a school leader or philanthropist loses interest—or if the reforms they launched are undone by an election or board upheaval.

Much the same is true of education’s other large institutions, most famously the colleges of education that train our K–12 teachers and principals. They are (again, with rare exceptions) about as immune to fundamental change as mountains and glaciers. (Where is climate change when we need it?)

If a philanthropist wants simply to “do good” in the education space, none of this matters. It’s a no-brainer to underwrite a building, a professorship, a scholarship, a summer program, a lecture series, a roomful of laptops, a field trip, or a gala recognition dinner. You can get thanked, praised, photographed, tweeted about, or liked on Facebook. (Yes, Mark, you created that opportunity, and many thank you for it.) All those sorts of things are easy and generally without controversy, much less rancor.

The challenge arises when, rather than adding to or celebrating the existing K–12 system, you try to advance major league reforms in it. Whether your sights are set on more rigorous academic standards, foolproof reading instruction, greater teacher effectiveness, expanded school choice, overhauled governance, or almost anything else that would benefit from big-time change, the challenge is huge. Save for the rare and exceptional situations noted above, you’ll be trying to move a mountain. You won’t have enough leverage, and even if you shift it a little, it’ll settle back down as soon as you stop pushing.

I understand the temptation to move the mountain. As has been said a thousand times, the overwhelming majority of kids—including the overwhelming majority of needy kids—attend district-operated schools; if we don’t do something about those district schools, the great majority of kids will be left in the dirt. I get it. It’s even true. And that’s why policy makers and elected officials at every level—national, state, local, and even international (think of the OECD)—have struggled for decades to reform and revitalize the district-based public education system. And struggle they should. This is among the most difficult jobs they face, and when they seek your help with philanthropic dollars, you should listen closely.

Your Greatest Asset

That does not, however, mean that you must do what they ask. Philanthropy is not government, and it forfeits its distinctive advantages when it cozies up to government—even more so when it does government’s bidding.

One of the biggest mistakes some major foundations have made in the education space has been adding their dollars, and whatever legitimacy they bring, to government initiatives. The most vivid example has been the Obama Education Department’s Investing in Innovation Fund, which requires grant recipients to come up with matching dollars from the private sector (that is, private philanthropy). A dozen major foundations committed half a billion dollars to this program, dollars that were then bent to the government’s priorities and project selections. I know, I know—my friend Jim Shelton, who ran that program for the government, now runs Chan Zuckerberg for you, and I’m sure he disagrees with me. But I have to say it again: Government and philanthropy ought to cherish their differences and sleep in separate beds.

Especially considering how puny philanthropy is next to government, its greatest asset isn’t money. It’s independence, the singular ability to do things that government cannot or will not do. That occasionally means piloting something that, if successful, government may then do more of. This is itself risky, as it may force philanthropy to confine its reach and vision to work that’s politically realistic for government to undertake. But it’s not as risky as letting government call the shots and determine which initiatives and projects are worthy of support.

So please don’t do that at Chan Zuckerberg. Please badger Jim not to do it. Please don’t let either the constraints or the priorities of government shape what you do in K–12 education.

A smart new book by Megan Tompkins-Stange unpacks some of the tension and confusion we see in philanthropy’s stance toward government. It recaps the major differences between philanthropy and government, beginning with a useful distinction between two “different worldviews about the role of foundations in a liberal democracy.” The “outcome-oriented approach, which primarily values the attainment of effective policy outcomes” leads foundations to “act as effective, efficient problem solvers that can circumvent bureaucratic blockages and catalyze innovation.” In other words, they go it alone, abjure government, and do things it can’t or won’t do, even when that may mean “privileging the views of elites.” Alternatively, the “field-oriented approach…primarily values the democratic engagement of citizens” and leads philanthropists to function as “vehicles to foster citizenship and mobilize broad political participation”—including participation in government itself.

The tension between these two strategies, Tompkins-Stange explains

is rooted in the double-edged sword of foundation accountability to the public. On the one hand, foundations are fundamentally private organizations that influence policy priorities outside formal democratic deliberations—a critique that has generated concerns about plutocracy. On the other hand, foundations may benefit democracy as an efficacious alternative to the bureaucratic state.

There’s a big choice to be made here. Will Chan Zuckerberg be a pilot fish—a brain trust, prod, and fount of matching dollars—for government? Or will it function as an autonomous actor that does very different things? These would include tackling challenges of policy and practice that engage the government but that no politician is brave enough to touch. Here’s an example: America’s forty-year-old approach to educating disabled students needs a thorough makeover, but nobody in government will go near the topic. And to the best of my knowledge, no foundation has the guts to support those outside government who might tackle it if resources were available. Here’s one sound reason that you should consider doing so: The “individual education plans” (IEPs) mandated under special education are, arguably, a clumsy early version of the “personalized learning” that you—and I—believe should become ubiquitous.

Mostly, though, just avoid government entirely. That means not following in the footsteps of funders like Bill Gates and Eli Broad, whose foundations have enthusiastically teamed up with government, done its bidding when it wasn’t doing theirs, and traded key staffers back and forth.

That you are willing to deviate from conventional philanthropic practices is evident in your decision to make Chan Zuckerberg a limited liability corporation (LLC) rather than a private foundation like Gates, Broad, and legacy players like Ford, Carnegie, Packard, and MacArthur. The LLC structure enables you to invest in for-profit ventures, startups, and political activities in ways that government (and traditional foundations) cannot go near. That’s a huge advantage—provided, of course, that you use it well.

As you can see, I’m urging you to use your independence, flexibility, and assets (sizable as they are in philanthropic terms even if meager next to America’s K–12 education budget) to press for change outside the district structure. You should create and replicate institutions, programs, and activities that the established structures of American public education can’t or won’t go near. And you should stick with them long enough that they—provided they’re successful—get some traction and some hope of longevity.

Think Outside the Box

That doesn’t mean the initiative always needs to come from your end. Practitioners of what’s now called “venture” or “strategic” philanthropy have been carried away by the conceit that they know best what needs to happen, and they often confine their support to those who take direction from them. Be a little more humble here. There’s much to be said for an older philanthropic tradition in which the donor waits to be approached by someone who might have a plan, a project, or an idea with merit that never would have occurred to the people with money to give.

What sorts of things am I suggesting? Charter schools are still a fine example, as I wrote to Bill Gates back in 1998. But don’t limit yourself to charters for inner-city residents. Those are much-needed, and the best of them are life-changing and deserve to be replicated. But “chartering” is a more flexible and capacious concept; it can be deployed to advance the education of kids with all sorts of different needs, interests, and possibilities. Why don’t you declare Chan Zuckerberg open and receptive to educators and entrepreneurs who are keen to explore those boundaries?

Likewise with alternative pathways into education. There are great outfits today (examples include Teach For America, the Relay Graduate School of Education, New Leaders for New Schools, and the Broad Fellows program) that help talented individuals who want to work in education to gain entry without requiring them to pass through all the traditional certification hoops. But they’re Lilliputian when compared to a K–12 enterprise that employs close to four million teachers, a hundred thousand principals, and any number of others. Much more is needed on this front.

High-class technology with solid content for use in “blended learning” settings is a no-brainer for you, and it holds great potential for the future. Indeed, a serious push to personalize kids’ education hinges on far more adept use of both hardware and software than anyone is now making. By all means, encourage further development on this front. But there’s so much more that needs to be done. Thinking a little farther outside the usual K–12 philanthropic box: We’ve recently seen a raft of rigorous new academic standards and better tests, all of them said to be aimed at making every student “college- and career-ready.” But most kids haven’t a clue whether they’re truly on track for such a future; indeed, millions of today’s young people will be sent into remedial courses on campus because their K–12 education did not prepare them to succeed there. Even those who may be on track for something after high school don’t know what their K–12 experience is preparing them for—Princeton, the local community college, a state college, a truck-driving school, or whatever else.

The truth is that scads of students are destined to have their hopes dashed after graduating from high school. The fact that they don’t discover this until then is an outrage. It also fosters false complacency and misleads their parents while they’re in school. Yet those who run schools and teach in them aren’t about to solve this problem; it’s not in their interest to be the voice of unwelcome truth. So it must be done from outside. Through technology and social media, you could find ways to raise awareness among kids that they are not ready for higher-level success—and then help them understand what to do about it.

There’s truth in the lament, voiced from both left and right, that American society is separating into haves and have-nots; the prospects of upward mobility are dimming both for the poorest and for those in what we’ve traditionally called the “working class.” This problem is deeply entangled with flaws in our education system, but it isn’t likely to be solved by that system. Part of what needs to happen is a flowering of much better opportunities, both in school and out, for high-ability poor and working-class kids with obvious potential to be upwardly mobile. Unfortunately, few of them have the pushy parents or attend the posh schools that try to be serious about “gifted” education. They need scholarships to go to other schools, supplemental learning opportunities, and the kinds of great summer programs (such as those under the umbrella of Johns Hopkins’s Center for Talented Youth) that aggressive upper-middle-class parents arrange for their bright daughters and sons. And while you’re at it, how about developing robots that can play the mentoring and advising role that those aggressive parents play? (A too-cute robot might even be an improvement!) You could also advocate for “Enrichment Savings Accounts” to help narrow the extracurricular opportunities gap.

Another route to upward mobility—one that does not rely on exceptional personal gifts other than determination and grit—is through career paths that run through top-notch technical education, apprenticeship programs, and the like. For example, think about all the non-physician roles in health care that call for sophisticated preparation but—other than tradition and perhaps status creep—don’t really need a college degree. What they require is demonstrated evidence of exceptional prowess, which can be acquired in many different settings. Here, too, Chan Zuckerberg could make a huge contribution.

Mark, you have already brought something wholly new into the world: a new medium for sharing, connecting, consuming, and advocating that represents one of the greatest creative accomplishments in recent history (cat videos aside). You didn’t set out to “tweak” or “improve” or even “change” the system that existed. You set about to invent something no one had ever imagined.

Bring that spirit into education. Focus not on the system, but on innovators—in the charter movement and beyond—who are also creating something wholly new. And tell Jim Shelton: This is finally his chance to support breakthroughs in K–12 schooling that the government, even when “investing in innovation,” is too risk-adverse to touch.

Thanks for your attention, and best wishes for your daughter Max in preschool.

Sincerely,

Chester E. Finn, Jr.

Editor’s note: This article originally appeared in slightly different form at Education Next.

On this week’s podcast, Alyssa Schwenk and Dara Zeehandelaar discuss Fordham’s new study of Ohio’s virtual charter schools. During the research minute, Amber Northern examines the effects of school closures in New York City.

Amber's Research Minute

James J. Kemple, "School Closures in New York," Education Next (August 2016).

In recent years, more and more districts have encouraged students to take Advanced Placement (AP) courses because they’re more challenging and can earn them college credit. And according to the College Board, this encouragement has translated to more course taking: “Over the past decade, the number of students who graduate from high school having taken rigorous AP courses has nearly doubled, and the number of low-income students taking AP has more than quadrupled.”

Enter a new study that examines what role grade-weighting AP courses might have played in this uptick in participation (for example, a district might assign 5.0 grade points for an A in an AP course but 4.0 grade points in a regular class).

The authors conducted a survey of over nine hundred traditional public high schools in Texas, inquiring whether they had weighting systems for AP courses; if so, when they began; and what changes have occurred in their systems since then. Twenty-eight schools that had increased their weights made up the “treatment group,” including rural, urban, and suburban schools scattered around the Lone Star State. The control group was drawn from traditional public schools with school-level data available before any weight changes occurred. It was then winnowed down (based on geographic proximity to the treatment schools) and matched on such variables as number of AP courses offered, number of twelfth graders enrolled, percentage of FRPL students, percentage of students who are limited English proficient, and more.

Once schools were matched, analysts further verified that they were comparable at the student level—controlling for variables like prior reading and math test scores—for the year preceding the weight change. They ultimately followed eight cohorts of tenth graders through grade twelve at schools that changed their weights and at matched comparison schools.

We learn that raising the magnitude of the AP weight in schools already using weights had a small impact that was mostly limited to non-poor white students. However, when schools introduced weights for the first time, the impact was significant and widespread. The probability of taking an AP course increased by 3–12 percent, and the number of AP courses taken increased by 0.10–0.95 standard deviations, with the largest impacts found among those ineligible for FRPL. For those who are eligible for FRPL, there were still impacts: AP course taking increased by .10 –.13 courses.

The authors’ bottom line: “Our results indicate that grade weights can generate a one-time increase in AP participation rates, but a ratcheting up of weights after the initial introduction essentially serves as a reward for students who would have taken the courses anyway.”

They go on to recommend that schools bolster outreach to low-income families to make sure that they understand the potential benefits of taking AP courses. We know that low-income graduates comprise greater percentages of AP test takers than in the past, especially over the last decade. But access is not the same as preparation. The College Board appears to understand this; at least, it professes commitment “to helping students gain access to AP courses for which they are academically qualified.” We agree. Access is important, but so is making sure that students are prepared to take advanced courses.

SOURCE: Kristin Klopfenstein and Kit Lively, "Do Grade Weights Promote More Advanced Course-Taking?," Association for Education Finance and Policy (Summer 2016).

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, Daniel Patrick Moynihan famously quipped, but they are not entitled to their own facts. This idea animates "The Learning Landscape," a new, accessible, and engaging effort by Bellwether Education Partners to ground contemporary education debates in, well, facts.

A robust document, it’s divided into six “chapters” on student achievement; accountability, standards, and assessment; school finance; teacher effectiveness; charter schools; and philanthropy in K–12 education. Data on these topics can be found elsewhere, of course. Where this report shines is in offering critical context behind current debates, and doing so in an admirably even-handed fashion. For example, the section on charter schools tracks the sector’s growth and student demographics and offers state-by-state data on charter school adoption and market share (among many other topics). But it also takes a clear-eyed look at for-profit operators, the mixed performance of charters, and other thorny issues weighing on charter effectiveness. (Online charters are a hot-button topic that could have used more discussion). Sidebars on “Why Some Charters Fail” and case studies on issues facing individual cities lend the report heft and authority, along with discussions on authorizing, accountability, and funding. In similar fashion, the chapter on standards and accountability summarizes the briefs both for and against various reform initiatives, covering such divisive issues as curriculum narrowing, school closures, NCLB waivers, and the “opt-out” movement.

"The Learning Landscape" will not satisfy those who insist that there’s nothing wrong with American education that can’t be fixed by (depending on the horse you rode in on) more money, unfettered local control, or total teacher autonomy. But it’s hard to imagine, say, a report from Common Core critics taking this much care to explain the case for standards. Too often, when someone promises “fair and balanced” coverage or an “honest and civil conversation,” it’s usually code for “the other guys had their say, so now it’s our turn.” Kudos to Bellwether for this earnest and, to my eye, successful effort to put between two covers what we know about damn near every hot-button issue in education. (And what we don’t know: The section on Common Core implementation, for example, acknowledges that “very little system-wide information exists about how and where districts purchase curricular materials….In fact, in every state except one, it is impossible to find out what materials districts are currently using without contacting the districts individually.” Such Easter eggs are scattered throughout the report, with copious footnotes for further exploring.)

While I was reading this report and preparing this review, a young colleague who recently left the classroom to study education policy in graduate school emailed me to ask for summer reading suggestions to get up to speed. Perhaps because "The Learning Landscape" was open on my desktop, it was the first thing I suggested. Not exactly August beach reading, but this won’t be the last time I recommend it.

SOURCE: “The Learning Landscape: A Broad View of the U.S. Public School System,” Bellwether Education Partners (July 2016).

The National Charter School Resource Center (NCSRC) has produced a “toolkit” to provide charter schools with alternative systems of discipline that—the authors claim—will foster positive school environments.

The report begins by reviewing more punitive disciplinary practices (e.g., suspension and expulsion) and noting that they are correlated with poor student outcomes. (They make no claim of causality.) They then assert that charters have higher rates of out-of-school suspensions than traditional public schools (a somewhat misleading claim; more on that below) and that these punishments are disproportionately felt by students of color, those with disabilities, and those identifying as LGBTQ.

The toolkit goes on to outline five rather self-evident “enabling factors” for charter schools undertaking discipline reform, such as a deep dive into behavior data to target areas for improvement and the development of alternative discipline models based on schools’ needs. It also describes some non-traditional systems of discipline—such as restorative practices (relationship building), structural interventions, “emotional literacy,” and culturally-responsive approaches—and provides sample practices and evidence of prior implementation.

The toolkit identifies possible benefits of discipline models that forego exclusionary practices, but it doesn’t begin to present a comprehensive picture of today’s policy discussions regarding charter school discipline. For example, Fordham President Mike Petrilli recently cautioned that statistics on school suspension and expulsion rates may be improperly interpreted to reflect racial bias or discrimination. He urged thoughtful consideration of the data with an eye toward maintaining a school environment that ensures fair treatment of all students.

Moreover, as part of a recent Fordham forum on this issue, AEI research fellow Nat Malkus argued that many comparisons of charter and district school suspension rates are bogus. If you compare charters with nearby district schools, for example, rates at charters appear slightly lower. An even more nuanced approach reveals that because charters aren’t uniform, they “demonstrate both disproportionately higher and lower relative suspension rates” compared with similar district schools.

The toolkit is an accessible resource for leaders considering alternative discipline practices, with suggestions that may be very helpful for some charter schools. However, discipline policy must be determined on school-by-school basis, without relying on statistics that tend to oversimplify—and improperly aggregate—trends in charter school disciplinary data.

SOURCE: “Charter School Discipline Toolkit: A Toolkit for Charter School Leaders,” National Charter School Resource Center (June 2016).