Last school year, it was shared that our local public elementary school was shortlisted for possible closure. After five grueling months of parent advocacy and formal meetings with the school board, a final decision was made: our cherished elementary school would close its doors due to fiscal responsibility. The outcome was deeply disheartening.

I served on the research team tasked with compiling data and proposing innovative, cost-saving alternatives that could give us a chance for this upcoming school year. But despite our efforts, the board’s majority leaned toward shuttering aging facilities and reallocating resources.

This feels deeply personal to me right now, but this trend has been widely documented across the country. School systems increasingly forced to make difficult decisions in response to shrinking budgets and changing demographics. As public school enrollment declines (due to a range of factors), closures and consolidations have become part of the cost-cutting strategy.

So where does this leave our community?

The school closure triggered a rezoning that split our side of town in two. This shift didn’t just impact our neighborhood; it also disrupted the schools receiving our students. The new school district lines shifted to absorb the added territory; and in doing so, many apartment-dwelling families were rezoned elsewhere. These changes, for better or worse, reshaped the school’s demographics and socioeconomic landscape. As a result, our new school lost its Title I status. Additionally, it lost more students than it gained—leading to few, if any, teacher or administrator transfers from our former school. We’re just happy that our son will have at least one or two familiar faces in his new establishment.

While the teachers and staff at his new school have been warm and supportive throughout the transition, reactions from long-standing families have been mixed. Some have welcomed us, hopeful that our arrival might strengthen enrollment and academic outcomes. Others, however, have voiced frustration over the loss of Title I funding caused by the rezoning. Regardless of these differing sentiments, one thing is clear: the school is in the midst of significant transformation, making it unfair to measure its future against its past.

Since the announcement of the school closure, my son’s new school has partnered with our previous PTO to carry over fundraisers and events for family engagement. Our School Governance Council also played a role, voting to donate equipment and resources to support our new community. So even though our old school had its doors closed, our new one is committed to honoring our traditions and building a strong, connected school community in the transition—just like the one we revered.

Reset Button

This marks a big shift for all of us. We had settled into a comfortable rhythm at the old school—our routines, the recognizable faces, our neighborhood. Now we’re starting fresh: learning new bus schedules, meeting different teachers and staff, adapting to a whole new carpool flow. Things that might seem trivial but, at 7am on the first day of school, are a pretty big deal. And the size of this campus? It’s a big change from what we’re used to. I’ve been telling myself that we can adapt and these new routines will eventually feel second nature.

Starting at a new school also offers a fresh start for our son. Last year, I watched the dynamics in his friend group shift, gradually wearing down his self-esteem and confidence as he tried to fit in. Now, he has a chance for a clean slate and an opportunity to gain some new friends.

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Although this wasn’t the outcome we had envisioned last year, it’s not the terrible setback we had imagined either. Instead, it opens the door for growing pains, learning new perspectives, and building something new.

Here’s to a wonderful first week of school!