American education is in crisis. Approximately a third of U.S. high school students are behind grade level in reading, writing, and math. A majority of Americans are pessimistic about the quality and direction of education. Even as our nation seeks to pioneer innovation on the global stage, a visit to the average public high school would betray an entirely different, decidedly alarming picture. On one side of the class, you may see intellectually engaged students eagerly taking notes; on the other, you are likely to stumble across greater droves of students who stare at the lecture with glazed eyes and a distant mind. As America’s schoolchildren drift apart in their educational outcomes, the resulting “achievement gap” largely reflects our country’s polarized class system, insofar as parents who can provide the material opportunities and intellectual investment into their child’s future tend to produce Ivy League contenders, whereas children of less fortunate families struggle. Broadly, entrenched socioeconomic disparities in education have been exacerbated by the failure of government education policies, the exclusionary culture at the highest echelons of education, and the growing usage of technology by America’s youth.
Even as social and economic inequality has increasingly pervaded the consciousness of Americans, state and federal education policy has only served to mask the systemic discrepancies in education access across classes. This, however, is not a new phenomenon. Since their inception, Western school systems have been fundamentally structured around maintaining class relations. Take, for instance, the day schools that increasingly arose during the Industrial Revolution in England. With a strict emphasis on punctuality and a learning schedule framed around efficient usage of time, these day schools often conditioned students to work for the bourgeoisie capitalists, who themselves typically hailed from elite universities. Eventually, in the late 1900s, a wider class-conscious movement began to critique the industrial origins of American schools. By the year 2002, President George Bush confronted a patchwork of failing public school districts and mounting dissatisfaction with the state of education, especially in poorer regions. His solution? He decided to sweep this systemic inequality under the rug. The No Child Left Behind Act of 2002 (NCLB) threatened to cut schools’ federal funding if they failed to meet certain educational benchmarks. Rather than address the root of declining performance, NCLB merely pushed schools to pursue the easy path: to mask and manipulate, to distort and deflect. Failing students were still advanced under the guise of social promotion, high school dropouts were reclassified, and grades were inflated. Far from structurally helping disadvantaged students, NCLB plunged them deeper into neglect. In the wake of the changes, many well-off students transferred to private schools, leaving the least fortunate to deal with the consequences.
While the policy failures of the federal government have visibly harmed those most in need of a strong education, a subtle yet detrimental school culture has formed in America, one that condemns disadvantaged students to failure. Partially in response to the punitive federal policy, schoolteachers and principals often go to great lengths to conceal failing students and promote a veneer of prosperity. This deception can take various forms: grade inflation, “encouraging” struggling students to transfer out, or manipulating school policies to convey a favorable narrative. For instance, a student at Augusta-Fells Savage Institute of Arts (where the median GPA is 0.14) in Baltimore advanced to 12th grade despite failing 22 classes, only to be told he needed to repeat high school. Stories like these are not uncommon, and reveal a worrying truth at the heart of American education: in most cases, schools would rather deceive than deliver. Equally alarming is the rise of a college admissions culture that excludes less fortunate students from considering post-secondary education. As I watch affluent students around me prepare for the stressful yet ultimately rewarding process of college admissions, I notice that they often forget about a neglected group at the bottom of the educational ladder: low-income students. The growing expectation for competitive college applicants to participate in extensive extracurricular activities and purchase a college counselor excludes many students who cannot afford these opportunities or must work a job to stay afloat. Thus, even low-income students who may be competitive for selective institutions internalize the narrative that they aren’t enough. The final nail in the coffin for these groups is the impossibility of affording a private high school. When affluent students flock to pursue a private school education, the students that are left behind—especially those in urban school districts—often learn in a culture where academic excellence is the exception and drug abuse, poverty, and learned helplessness are the norm.
As if these systemic barriers were not high enough, the increasing barrage of hyper-optimized technology is a fatal blow to students seeking upward mobility. Teachers, parents, and administrators alike have pointed to the detrimental effects of technology usage on educational outcomes. Yet, in their discussions, a crucial facet of the problem is often ignored: the harms of technology are distributed unevenly. Whereas more-resourced students can often recover academically from technology overload, excessive screen time pits worse-off students in a uniquely vulnerable position. For these students—who often work demanding jobs, have less time for academics, and often cannot afford tutors to keep them on track—every second is precious, and technology is a major distractor. During the COVID-19 pandemic, the diverging impacts of unfettered access to technology were laid bare. Just two months after the pandemic began, students from low-income zip codes decreased their participation in online math coursework by 52.4%, while high-income zip codes experienced a 4.5% increase in participation (The74Million). These deficiencies only compounded over the following years, and left many disadvantaged students perpetually behind. As technology becomes even more addictive and advanced, the advent of hyper-optimized social media content and Artificial Intelligence models will only exacerbate the schisms and result in irreparable damage to American society and class relations.
With climate change demanding immediate innovation and the United States facing a pivotal moment in its future, the education system should be the pride and future of the nation. Yet, as federal policies, prevailing attitudes toward education, and spiraling technology use demonstrate, the outward image of our public schools matters more than the reality. While various proposals for reform have surfaced—from deschooling to private voucher programs— these measures only address the symptoms of a broader ailment. After all, teachers and administrators only resort to academic manipulation when declining student outcomes threaten a school’s funding or reputation. Instead of debating these ultimately mitigatory solutions, we should address the root cause that plagues American education from the day a student enters kindergarten to the moment they receive their diploma. For the schools, it might be a matter of reputation. But for our country and the world, it’s the future. And we should treat it that way.