Dear Editor,
Equity is meaningless when it is defined by those in power, rather than by stakeholders. Legislators need to keep this in mind as they reimagine Vermont’s education system.
Living in a rural area is a social determinant of health, of educational outcomes, and, I would argue, of power. Nearly 65% of Vermonters live in small towns, rural, or remote areas. This means that policies with unique impacts on rural communities affect a substantial majority. Legislators should be quick to consult rural constituents about our experience of the factors that most influence educational outcomes.
If they asked rural folks, this is what they would hear: Retaining our local elementary schools is the most important factor in supporting educational equity.
My family’s story illustrates the importance of access to education locally. I live with my husband and two young children in Waterville, which is rural and geographically remote, hemmed in by a deep valley that prohibits any east-west travel. Whether I choose to drive north or south as I leave home, it’s nearly 40 minutes to a big grocery store. In an emergency, our 911 calls go to the Williston State Police barracks, 50 minutes away. We have minimal access to daycare, and no extended-day options for preschool. Without any closer full-day alternatives, we sent my daughter Mara to a private preschool that cost my entire full-time income. It was the only available option along our regular commute and required her to spend almost two hours in the car every day.
Despite the excellent staff, appealing curriculum, and lots of time outdoors, Mara struggled with her daily routine when she commuted to school. She fought hard against going every morning. Once there, she frequently required exceptions to the rules and one-on-one attention. She had a runny nose year-round, and her sunny disposition was lost to moody fatigue. Anticipating Mara’s transition to public kindergarten, her teachers were concerned, offering to plan and advocate by calling, writing letters, and even visiting Waterville Elementary School in-person. They told me that no classroom teacher would be able to give her the on-demand attention and behavioral intervention she’d required. This suggested to me that Mara would need extra support, including personnel resources that would cost the district money.
But this year, the transition to a local school changed our lives. Mara enjoys class and dresses herself each morning enthusiastically; she hasn’t required any dedicated staff support during the school day. Now embedded in our local community, she delights in seeing school staff at the Waterville store, town dance, and trick-or-treating. We can now carpool with local families when we’re in a pinch and find time for short social visits after school. I think that Mara’s educational success is largely the result of cutting out almost two hours of daily commute, and because we are building stronger and deeper relationships knowing these connections will last a lifetime, even outside school walls.
Our story echoes what I hear from my rural neighbors, the rural school community, and in the consensus platform of the Rural School Community Alliance. The reason why our towns are small, why our school is relatively small, and why we can’t afford to lose it is because of our rurality. Between extreme winter weather, transportation barriers, and daily responsibilities, we often teeter on the edge of what we can reasonably accomplish in a day. A bright spot in the daily grind is the way our school supports our students, and the committed involvement of parents and community members is only possible because our school is accessible to us at the end of our daily commutes. The presence of an accessible elementary school is exactly what we need to equitably meet the unique educational needs of rural children.
Let’s revisit the difference between equal and equitable. As we know, equal means “the same.” Equitable means “fair and reasonable,” implying a proper balance of conflicting interests in a way that accounts for differences between groups.
People’s perspectives on educational equity are likely, and understandably, centered on their individual experiences. To my ear, it sounds like Vermonters who live in densely populated areas assume educational equity means offering equal programming options, such as foreign language classes or athletic teams, at all school locations. On the contrary, many rural Vermonters see access to local educational opportunities as far more important than any particular program or resource. Since most Vermonters live in rural and remote areas, our perspectives ought to be a substantial driver of policy; while state-level standards are important, it is not fair or reasonable to require everyone to achieve them in the same way despite regional differences.
The cost of education is critically important. But per-pupil costs in Vermont’s unified union districts increased after Act 46’s district consolidation and associated small school closures. Nationally, researchers have found no consistent correlation between cost and quality in relation to school size.
In fact, once the cost of transportation is factored in, school closures don’t produce the savings anticipated. Vermont data from recent school closures also bears this out. Without a clear plan for cost savings, all we can confidently anticipate is that closing schools is damaging to children, communities, and equitable access.
Rural voters have the right to demand equitable distribution of educational access. From the horse’s mouth: There should be no forced consolidation of Vermont’s community elementary schools.
Katie Grenon, Waterville
