I once believed what many of my fellow educators and policymakers still do: that excellent teaching alone is the strongest lever for academic success. I thought that high-quality instruction could be the great equalizer. But belief isn’t enough.
Despite decades of reform, our nation’s students aren’t making meaningful progress. In 2024, less than a third of 4th and 8th grade students scored at or above “proficient” in reading on the National Assessment of Educational Progress. Math performance is similarly concerning, with only 39% of 4th graders and 28% of 8th graders meeting the “proficient” benchmark. These outcomes have have been persistently concerning for more than a decade—and they are far worse for students of color and low-income communities.
The common explanation? Our schools still aren’t good enough and we need to invest more resources in quality instruction. But that’s only half the equation.
We’ve spent decades focusing on outputs—test scores, graduation rates—while minimizing a whole set of the inputs that make learning possible in the first place: stable housing, food security, safety, mental health care, and community infrastructure. As researchers Prudence Carter and Kevin Welner highlight, you cannot separate students’ achievement from the conditions in which children live.
Let me make this real.
I recently led a school in a community I’ll call O-Town, where the child poverty rate is 54%. It has the city’s highest child-maltreatment rate, highest rate of chronic absenteeism, and the greatest number of students experiencing homelessness. In neighborhoods like this, educators give everything they have and still face profound obstacles every day.
Despite research-based curriculum and expert instruction, many students in these settings struggle to meet grade-level expectations. And the results bear this out. Only 30% of high school students in O-town graduate on time—less than half the city average. Why? Because schools alone cannot compensate for the systemic neglect of children’s basic needs. Even the most skilled teacher can’t be effective if a student hasn’t eaten in 24 hours or doesn’t have a safe place to sleep.
When I started as a school leader eight years ago, I hoped that schools could overcome all barriers with strong instruction alone. I thought focusing on external factors was “making excuses.” Now, I see clearly that equity in education requires transformation both inside and outside our schools.
Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs tells us what any frontline educator already knows: Children must feel safe and have their basic needs met to meaningfully engage in learning. This aligns with the growing body of research that connects trauma, housing instability, and food insecurity with decreased academic performance.
We don’t lack passionate teachers or dedicated leaders. What we lack is a system designed for equity.
And we cannot keep pretending schools alone can close the gap.
Here’s the truth: Schools are being asked to solve problems that policy created—and that policymakers continue to ignore.
In light of the current wave of legislative and rhetorical attacks on practices to promote diversity, equity, and inclusion, school leaders and policymakers who are committed to equity must stop acting as though school walls are magic boundaries that insulate students from systemic harm.
Unfortunately, many educators and policy advocates accept the false dichotomy that we must choose between improving schools or advocating for better socioeconomic conditions. But these are not mutually exclusive goals. In fact, they are deeply interdependent. Focusing solely on what’s within schools’ locus of control limits our impact. As education leaders, we cannot ignore the social determinants of learning.
I’m not suggesting that educators and policymakers abandon efforts to improve school quality. Rather, we must add the missing pieces: community revitalization, affordable housing, health services, emotional and mental support, and policies that create safety and stability for our students. Sociologist Eve Ewing’s scholarship on structural racism, abolitionist education, and the impact of segregation highlights the reality that our schools are embedded within systems that were not designed for children in communities like O-town to thrive.
We need a new framework for school accountability—one that reflects the full reality of what it takes for children to succeed.
That means funding schools not just by enrollment, but by need. Schools serving high-poverty communities should be guaranteed wraparound supports: mental health counselors, trauma-informed care, nutrition programs, and partnerships with housing and health providers. These services are not extras—they’re prerequisites for learning.
We also need policies that break down the silos between education, housing, health, and social services. Families shouldn’t have to navigate a maze of disconnected systems. Education leaders should be at the table with housing authorities, health departments, and local governments—because what happens outside the classroom affects what’s possible inside it.
The current system is designed to hold educators accountable for outcomes without giving them control over the conditions that shape those outcomes. Accountability for educators should be coupled with accountability for policymakers to create conditions that make achievement possible. This is a dual obligation—one that requires courage, vision, and cross-sector collaboration.
Now more than ever, we need state and federal policymakers who will invest in what truly matters: the opportunity for every child to achieve.
The agenda for education leaders is clear. We must:
- Embed wraparound services in every school serving high-needs communities as essential educational supports.
- Create funding formulas that reflect the needs and barriers students face in their communities, not just enrollment.
- Hold policymakers—not just educators—accountable for addressing the social determinants of learning.
- Design with communities, not for them. Parents and students must be part of policy development, not passive recipients of it.
If we want students to thrive, we must stop pretending excellent teaching can carry the weight of generational poverty, systemic racism, and chronic disinvestment on its own. We must commit to the whole equation: quality education and equal opportunity.
