Stop Making Plans About Us Without Us: Families Deserve a Real Voice in Boston School Closures and Mergers
Let’s be clear:
If Boston Public Schools (BPS) is truly committed to equity, transparency, and community trust, then families must be involved from day one—not after plans are made, not after decisions are finalized, and definitely not after leaked lists throw entire communities into panic.
Because when closures, mergers, and “reconfigurations” happen without meaningful input from the very people most affected—students, parents, educators—it doesn’t just feel disrespectful.
It feels intentional.
And with this latest round of closures, activists pushed back on the proposed schools slated to close at the end of the 25-26 school year.
We’ve Seen This Before—And We’re Not Falling for It Again
Every time BPS rolls out changes, we hear the same buzzwords:
“Community engagement.”
“Equity-driven planning.”
“A better future for students.”
But here’s what really happens:
Last-minute meetings with no answers.
Decisions presented as “discussions” after they’ve already been made.
Families left scrambling.
Kids left confused.
Trust shattered—again.
This isn't a partnership. It’s damage control.
The Long-Term Facilities Plan: Big Promises, No People
When BPS unveiled its Long-Term Facilities Plan (LTFP) in early 2024, it was pitched as a thoughtful 10-year roadmap for school investment.
What families got instead was vague language, strategic silence, and no clarity about which schools were on the chopping block.
We weren’t given answers—we were given anxiety.
Parents and educators have spent months asking:
“Is my child’s school next?”
“Should I be looking for alternatives?”
“Why won’t anyone just tell us the truth?”
This isn’t just poor communication—it’s deliberate exclusion.
Honesty Delayed Is Trust Denied
The district says changes will be gradual—but if that’s true, why not say so upfront?
Why was the list of targeted schools kept hidden until it leaked in January 2025?
Even then, BPS officials admitted the list wasn’t supposed to be public until months later—not because it wasn’t ready, but because they didn’t want parents pulling their kids out.
In the words of the superintendent:
“We don’t want to release the list of schools because we don’t want parents leaving the district.”
If that’s not a betrayal of trust, what is?
And if it isn’t true, where’s the explanation?
Where’s the transparency BPS keeps promising?
Let’s not forget: On May 20, 2023, Boston City Council formally requested a full list of all closures and mergers since 2010—by school, by neighborhood, with stated reasons.
Has that list ever been delivered? Or are we just expected to keep waiting—and worrying?
Where’s the Equity in This So-Called “Equity Tool”?
BPS claims decisions are being guided by a “racial equity tool.” But if that’s the case, why are schools in historically underserved neighborhoods the first to be closed?
Where’s the consistency? Where’s the data?
And most importantly: Where’s the actual equity?
This doesn’t look like justice.
It looks like just another excuse.
Families Don’t Want Half-Truths. We Deserve the Whole Picture.
We’ve read the district’s own 2023 reports—the ones that were supposed to inform this plan.
And guess what? They don’t support many of the closures and mergers already underway.
So what’s really driving these decisions? Because it doesn’t look like student success.
Let’s talk about mergers. Are both school communities asking for it?
Are families being given time, space, and resources to weigh the impacts?
Or are these just cost-cutting moves in disguise?
Yes, Our Buildings Are Old—But So Is This Broken Process
Let’s be clear: no one is denying that most of our school buildings need major work. On average our school buildings are about 80 years old. Many of them were constructed before 1950 and a lot before WWII. Most need desperate repairs or major renovations.
But here’s what we do deny:
The idea that shrinking a system and calling it “progress” helps our kids.
The idea that closing more schools than you open builds anything worth keeping.
The idea that decisions can be made about us, without us — and that we’re just supposed to accept it.
You don’t rebuild trust by tearing down the very communities that rely on this system the most.
We’re Done Being Informed After the Fact
If BPS wants any credibility moving forward, it must rebuild trust before it rebuilds infrastructure.
And that starts with real inclusion—not performative engagement.
Here’s what that looks like:
Involve families from the very first conversation.
Share honest, complete, unfiltered data.
Listen—and show us how our voices actually influence outcomes.
This isn’t a radical request.
It’s the bare minimum.
We are not just “stakeholders.”
We are parents, guardians, educators, students, and community leaders.
And we’re done accepting courtesy instead of collaboration.
Our Kids Are Not Data Points—They Are the Future
This isn’t just about buildings.
It’s about children—real children, who deserve consistency, community, and care.
They’re not line items on a spreadsheet.
They’re not bargaining chips in a political process.
They are the beating heart of this city’s future—and right now, they are paying the price for a system that treats them as afterthoughts.
What BPS calls “logistical changes” are, for our kids, life-changing disruptions.
They deserve better. And so do we.
BPS, You Say You Want to Build a Better Future. Prove It.
If you want families to believe in your vision, then show us that you believe in ours.
Let us in—before decisions are made.
Tell us the truth—even when it’s hard.
Respect us—not just as parents, but as equal partners.
Because we’re not standing by quietly anymore.
We’re standing up—for our schools, our neighborhoods, and the future our children deserve.
Boston families aren’t asking for a seat at the table.
We’re claiming the one that should’ve been ours all along.
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