Public School Closures: Are We Asking the Right Questions?

Since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, public school enrollment has dropped by more than a million students nationwide. Many families have shifted to homeschooling or enrolled their children in private and charter schools. In Louisiana, with a population of 4.5 million, the state spends an average of $12,990 per student (Educationdata.org, 2024). Yet, the burden of school closures disproportionately affects majority-Black, urban schools.

In places like Shreveport, this has become an epidemic of its own.

Urban schools, especially those serving predominantly Black communities, are experiencing significant enrollment declines. When charter and private school options became more accessible, families seeking better resources, smaller class sizes, or more safety began moving their children out of public schools. In many cases, top-performing students were the first to leave, while special-needs students and those requiring the most support were left behind. The result? Fewer students. Less funding. And ultimately, school closures.

But we must ask: why exactly are schools closing?

Is it because our schools had fewer certified, adequately trained teachers, leading to declining academic outcomes? Is it because parents lost faith in the system and began seeking alternatives, especially when remote learning revealed inequities in real-time? Or is it that public investment followed the students out of the neighborhood, instead of reinvesting in the schools left behind?

Mitra (2011) reminds us that schools with greater funding tend to employ more experienced and better-compensated teachers, which leads to improved student outcomes, stronger behavior, and greater college aspirations. Yet in urban communities, there’s often a lack of consistent parental and community involvement — not due to apathy, but due to systemic burnout, socioeconomic stress, and sometimes, a lack of trust that schools are equipped or willing to listen.

So we return to the pressing question:
Are we asking the right questions?

Not just why did enrollment decline, but:

• What investments were withheld before families chose to leave?
• What would it take to make neighborhood schools places parents trust again?
• Can a late surge in interest from parents wanting to transfer their kids back save a school on the brink of closure?
• What role does community ownership play in shaping school futures?

If we only focus on the numbers, dollars, enrollment figures, and test scores, we risk missing the human story behind them. The story of families who wanted better for their children. Teachers who burned out trying to do more with less. Communities that feel abandoned.

If we’re serious about saving our public schools, we have to start asking better questions and more importantly, listening to the answers already living in our neighborhoods.