Much of the literature on virtues or character development in education focuses on the role of educators and parents. Rightfully so; parents and educators must work in common cause in the moral development of children. However, little attention has been given to the role that school systems play in fostering positive relationships and ethical learning communities. By school systems I mean, the formal structures that determine how students are assigned to or choose to be at a particular school. It may well be that structural features of a system lend themselves more or less to creating a healthy educational community where virtues and character formation can take a more prominent form. This article focuses on what it regards as a key but neglected systemic feature of an educational system: whether students are assigned to a school by virtue of their geographical residence or by a family’s free choice. This paper examines one key question: would the systemic structures of a public education system built on principles of pluralism, choice, and free association do more to promote healthy learning communities than a system that relies on residential assignment to schools?
Introduction
What is the purpose of a public school education? It depends on who you ask. The 2019 Phi Delta Kappan (PDK) poll asked parents and teachers alike to finish the following sentence: “The main goal of public school education is to prepare students…” Respondents were given three choices: “Academically,” “For Work,” or “To be good citizens.” Fifty-three percent of parents indicated the main goal should be academics. In comparison, just 37 percent of teachers chose academics. A plurality of teachers, 45 percent, believed the primary goal of public schooling was to prepare students to be good citizens. Just 28 percent of parents agreed.
While 81 percent of public school teachers believed civics should be a required class, just 60 percent of parents agreed. A sizeable minority of parents (40 percent) seem to be leery of public schools teaching their children values, even in the basic sense of “good citizenship.” As the PDK poll points out, a good number of parents, 29 percent, are concerned that civics classes might include political content they disagree with. PDK notes, “this concern peaks among conservatives, evangelical Christians (both at 37%), and Republicans (35%), compared with Democrats (22%) and liberals (17%) (p. 12).
While a strong majority of parents (78%) and teachers (85%) in the PDK poll said schools “should teach values,” there were considerable differences depending on how respondents self-identified politically. Self-identified “moderates” (85%) and “conservatives” (80%) were more likely to support the teaching of values than “liberals” (69%). Interestingly, when asked whether “it would be possible to get people in their community to agree on a basic set of values that should be taught,” just 61 percent of all respondents said this was possible.
PDK offers some evidence that there may be broader agreement on specific issues than respondents realized. For instance, “87 percent to 97 percent of all adults say public school classes on values should cover honesty, civility, respect for authority, and acceptance of people of different religions” (p. 13). Support drops, however, to 81 percent in favor of patriotism and “74 percent favor including acceptance of people of different sexual orientations” (p. 13). Though there is some agreement, what accounts for the differences between groups and in the perception that we can reach consensus?
What is “A Healthy School Community?”
Ambivalence about civic or values education, to the extent that it exists among stakeholders, may reflect a lack of trust. That, in turn, may reflect the absence of a healthy community.
In his definition of a healthy school community, Berkowitz (2012), offers the following characteristics:
A group of people
With a shared commitment,
And a shared identity,
And a shared set of pro-social, ethical norms
Resulting in an emotional bond to the community and its members
That all lead to serving, supporting, and protecting the community and its members. (p. 112)
The PDK poll revealed, for the nation as a whole, some differences (parents vs. teachers, liberals vs. conservatives) in level of support for teaching values in schools. It therefore seems likely that many individual school systems within the nation would be characterized by the same lack of unity. To the extent that this is so, they would fail to meet one or more of Berkowitz’s six criteria for a healthy school community.
Much of the literature on promoting positive school communities focuses, rightly, on the impact school leaders and teachers can have. Hoerr (2019), for instance writes, “The job of principals is to work with teachers to create a culture of trust and growth. A school’s culture is forged by principals and teachers working collaboratively.” Similarly, researchers have noted the important role parents play. Lickona (1991), for example, states “schools and families must come together in common cause. Working together, these two formative social institutions have real power to raise up moral human beings and to elevate the moral life of the nation” (p. 35).
While there is no denying school leaders and teachers can impact, positively or negatively, a school’s culture and sense of community, little attention has been given to the structural features of the system itself, such as how it is determined which school a child will attend. It is possible that how we decide where children attend school and who makes that decision will have a significant impact on the development of a healthy learning community.
This paper is concerned with one key question: would the systemic structures of a public education system built on principles of pluralism, choice, and free association do more to promote healthy learning communities than a system that relies on residential assignment to schools? Ward (1966) defines educational pluralism this way: “pluralism means that we allow, enjoy, and even promote freedom in the sources and methods of education, and freedom, within reasonable limits, in the subject matter taught, and in the philosophies and theologies underlying the content” (p. 23). Specifically, this paper will examine how a choice-based system and a residential assignment system help or hinder the formation of a “shared commitment” and a “shared identity,” as outlined by Berkowitz.
Throughout the paper, I attempt to eschew the commonly used dichotomy of public versus private schools. The point made in this paper is not necessarily about public or private schools per se; rather, it is about how our school systems are organized. Choice can be expressed in all types of schools, whether they are traditional public, magnet schools, charter public schools, or private schools. Similarly, we can imagine a system where students are assigned to a school that is privately operated. The key difference I am concerned with is whether student’s families choose to attend the school by some virtue of the school’s characteristics and values or whether students simply attend the school because they are residentially assigned to attend the school. As such, I will often refer to traditional public schools as “residentially assigned schools.” Meanwhile, schools of choice may include any school that is designed to attract students on the merits or qualities of the school itself.
I should note here that I am not making any claims about various school choice programs. Nor am I advocating for a specific type of school choice program. This paper does not consider cost or who pays for the school at all. Rather, I am considering two possible ways in which students may choose a school. Thus, for the sake of this analysis, it may be best if we assume both methods—residential assignment and choice—are of no cost to the parents.
A Shared Commitment
As Berkowitz notes, a shared commitment is foundational to a healthy school community. When it comes to education, a “shared commitment” means having the same basic expectations about the goals of education. It means agreeing that the schools exist for a specific cause or purpose. When we agree on these things, it helps promote a positive school community. Otherwise, we spend time disagreeing and arguing about key fundamental questions.
On the one hand, the PDK survey found that a large majority of parents (78 percent) and a large majority of teachers (85 percent) agreed that schools “should teach values.” But on the other hand, that high level of agreement about the general goal of teaching unspecified values was accompanied by the finding that only 61% of all respondents in the PDK poll believed “it would be possible to get people in their community to agree on a basic set of values that should be taught.” Moreover, 29 percent of parents expressed concerns that civics classes might include political content they disagree with. The question, “Whose values should we teach?”, still looms large for many.
For obvious reasons, when students enter a school based solely on where they live rather than through the act of choice, especially when that choice is based on school characteristics, it creates added challenges to reaching a shared commitment. This occurs because of the simple fact that within a geographic region, students may come from very different backgrounds, faith traditions, and families with varying political and ideological beliefs, including beliefs about the controversial issues that often divide communities. Adding to the challenge of reaching a shared commitment about school purpose is the feeling of many parents in a system without choice that they lack power or authority over their child’s education. As Coons (1981) writes, “At that vulnerable age in the child’s life the parent is suddenly stripped of all power, and the child is directed by strangers to report to strangers who will teach him what the strangers think best for him.” As a consequence, some parents may retreat from seeing and supporting the school as a place where values should be taught, while other parents may attempt to control, or at least influence, what the school does or does not teach in the area of values.
This makes the work of school leaders in residentially assigned schools incredibly important. They must spend time cultivating a sense of shared purpose, and they must cultivate a sense of trust. This trust must be formed among the educators and students in the building and with parents and community members. Bryk and Schneider (2003) write, “Principals’ actions play a key role in developing and sustaining relational trust.” This is real, significant, and often difficult work.
A system of education that relies on voluntary association via school choice policies dramatically changes this dynamic. Simply put, a system of choice recognizes that profound differences among parents and among educators will always exist. A choice-based system allows for a system of educational pluralism to exist (Berner, 2017). Rather than forcing all individuals into a school based on their residence, school choice systems embrace tolerance and pluralism in educational decisions. Parents may make educational decisions based on any number of factors. These may include things like location and safety, but often include perceived academic quality, religious and/or moral values (Bukhari & Randall, 2009; Erickson, 2017; Shuls, 2018)
Noting the benefits of an education system built on principles of school choice, Coons (2000) suggests “social trust among groups is maximized when family identity is respected by government.” This is not to say that private school leaders or principals in schools of choice do not have as important a role in developing trust and a shared commitment—they do. But they are aided in the fact that parents may select into their school because they have shared commitments.
By allowing individuals with varying values and beliefs to select into schools, a school system can embrace pluralism. D’Agostino and Grau I Callizo (2022) write:
An educationally pluralistic system is one that embraces a diversity of forms of educational provision beyond the exclusive role of state provided schooling and that embraces and allows for distinctive philosophical, cultural, and religious perspectives in alignment with parental choices in the provision of education (p. 366).
If schools are most effective in promoting virtue and character development when they are healthy learning communities and if a shared commitment is foundational for a healthy learning community, then is seems apparent that a system that enables families to choose the school that shares their commitments would be more advantageous. As Bryk and Schneider point out, “Because participants have deliberately chosen to affiliate with the school, relations among all parties are pre-conditioned toward trust” (p. 44). They go on to note, “In contrast, the forced assignment of individuals to schools fosters uncertainty and suspicion about the motivations and commitments of others and may create a formidable barrier to promoting trust” (p. 44).
Choice is not a necessary nor a sufficient condition to form a shared commitment among a school’s varying stakeholders. It is quite possible for school leaders and educators to cultivate a shared commitment at a residentially assigned school, just as it is possible for discord to occur at a choice school. The question I am addressing is whether one system is more likely to produce an environment where a school’s stakeholders will form shared commitments. In this regard, it seems clear that a system which allows students, families, and educators to select into a school would be more likely to result in a community with shared commitments.
A Shared Identity
To form a healthy learning community, Berkowitz suggests the community must have a shared identity. Of course, to share an identity you must first have an identity. Just as every school has a culture, which may be good or may be bad, every school has an identity. The questions are what that identity is, whether it is an identity that has been intentionally shaped, and, if so, who was engaged in that identity formation. A fully formed school identity can help answer two key questions: Who are we? And what are we about? Think for a minute about the organizing principles of residentially assigned schools. What is it that forms the identity of the school? More often than not, it is the name of the school or town, the mascot or even the football team. That is what draws the people together. This answers the first question, but not the latter.
When school boundaries group homogeneous individuals together into schools, it is quite possible to have a de facto shared identity. Indeed, many communities, especially in small, rural towns, feel a deep sense of connectedness with their local public school. This may have been even more common in the past. As the public school system took root in the United States, schools were typically organized into districts (Adams, 1875). These were not the large school districts we see today, which can serve hundreds of thousands of students. In 1790, 95 percent of the population lived in places with fewer than 2,500 people (Kaestle, 2011). The school district of the early Republic was the smallest political unit (Reese, 1999). Thus, it was quite possible for most families to feel a sense of shared identity with their town and their school. In these close-knit, homogeneous communities the school’s identity, both the “who” and the “what” questions may have been answered sufficiently. The school reinforced the town’s cultural, religious, moral, and political norms.
Of course, this harmony did not exist in every community. As Randal (1994) noted, “That the common school movement appealed to many should not be mistaken as a consensus on American education. It involved a bitter contest over whose private values and ideologies would be elevated to the status of public beliefs” (p. 32). Minority groups or individuals in large school districts have historically felt disconnected, even attacked by the residentially assigned school. During the Common School movement of the 1800s and well into the 1900s, public schools in the United States had a definite Protestant identity. As Heater (2004) notes, the purpose of common schools “was to give all children of whatever origin a basic education to form them into good Americans, which meant civically moral, patriotic, English-speaking Protestants” (p. 102). In numerous instances, tensions flared as disputes about public schools rang out. For example, riots arose between Protestants and Catholics in 1844 Philadelphia over what version of the Bible should be used in schools (Heater 2004). Lannie and Diethorn (1968) write, “No area of disagreement between Protestants and Catholics caused more friction than that of education and Bible reading in the public schools” (p. 89).
School leaders in residentially assigned schools cannot take for granted that their local community will automatically feel a sense of shared identity with their local school. Moreover, we must question whether a geographic boundary or a town’s name is sufficient to describe the identity of a healthy learning community. A name may tell us who we are, but it cannot tell us what we are about. It does not give us the ethos of the organization. For that, school leaders must shape a school’s identity and cultivate buy-in among stakeholders.
In residentially assigned schools, principals must work diligently with their staff to form a school’s identity. Indeed, when it comes to forming a school community whose focus is on the development of virtue and character, the principal plays a paramount role. As Berkowitz (2011) notes, “Character education needs a champion at the helm of the school” (p. 104). To form a school identity that centers on virtue and character development, a school leader must be intentional. He or she must cultivate a shared understanding and commitment among faculty through purposive hiring, intentional training, and “deselection” or firing of teachers who do not buy in to the school’s new direction.
In a residentially assigned school, forming a school’s identity around character and virtue may be challenging. In some large districts, school principals may have little ability to hire their own teachers (Ouchi, 2009). Even when they do have hiring authority, applicants may not know that the school has a specific identity and they may not be applying to the school directly. Indeed, recruitment efforts may take place at the district level and may not focus specifically on a particular school’s mission (Maranto & Shuls, 2013; Shuls & Maranto, 2014). As such, the school does not have the benefit of attracting teachers who are inclined to align with the vision of the school leader. Moreover, some teacher contracts or tenure laws make it near impossible to remove teachers simply because they do not share the school leader’s vision. This may harm efforts to form schools with a coherent vision or identity (Bryk & Schneider, 2003). Further, public school leaders may not have much leverage over professional development activities. Public administration theory suggests to the extent that school leaders are hampered in these important capacities, it may hinder the development of a shared identity (Cheng, 2016).
None of this is to say the task of forming a shared identity in a residentially assigned school is impossible. We know from experience (see Berkowitz et al., 2012) it is possible for dedicated school leaders in a residentially assigned school to do this work. The point is that they do it in the face of systemic obstacles that make the task more difficult.
Now consider how identity is formed in a school of choice. When a school is formed in a choice environment, the founders typically have an identity in mind when they are creating the school. The school may be designed based on its educational emphasis, such as a STEM school or an arts school, by its educational philosophies, such as Montessori or Classical, by religious preferences, or even by focusing on character and virtue. At the Classical Academy de Lafayette, a private school in Missouri, for example, the website specifically states, “Virtue is at the core of all that happens at the Classical Academy de Lafayette, from the literature we read to the conversations in the hallway.” The school specifically lists four classical virtues as aims of the school’s educational program: prudence, temperance, justice, and fortitude. The school was founded with this identity in mind and seeks to attract students based on the identity.
Of course, listing aims on a school’s website does not mean those principles or goals are realized in the school building. It is very possible for a school of choice to explicitly state they are focused on character and virtue, while failing miserably to be a healthy learning community that instills those values. Once again, the point is not about the individual school but about the system. A system of choice allows for schools to put a stake in the ground as to the school’s identity. The identity then is not something solely formed by the school leader or athletic program but may be baked into the institutional culture.
The contrasts between a residentially assigned school and a school of choice are clear. Often, a residentially assigned school is one among many in a traditional public school district. The leaders of each of these schools may be pulling towards different identities. These schools are governed by elected boards who may have competing and varied ideas about the purpose and goals of the local public school. Conversely and equally pernicious, sometimes principals in a residential district are told they are interchangeable, i.e., their loyalty should not be to an individual school or community where they work within a district, but, rather, to the district as a whole. From this perspective, specific school thrusts and creativity are to be avoided.
In comparison, a school of choice may be independent or part of a network that shares an identity. Further, these schools may be governed by a board that chose to serve because of their affinity for the school’s purpose and mission. Principals and teachers may choose to work at the school of choice for the same reasons. Indeed, school leaders may attempt to hire teachers specifically because they are aligned to the school’s mission (Maranto & Shuls, 2011; Shuls & Maranto, 2014). Likewise, parents may select the school specifically because they feel a connection to the school, share similar values, believe in the educational philosophy, or want what the school is offering.
I must reiterate again that none of this is an indictment or support of any specific school. There are many residentially assigned schools that are healthy learning communities and many schools of choice that are not. We are talking about systemic issues that may foster or hinder the development of a healthy learning community. Here we must return to the questions that started this section. What are the organizing principles of residentially assigned schools and schools of choice? For the residentially assigned school, the organizing principle is location. For the school of choice, it is the school’s identity (or at least its stated identity).
A poll of more than 1,200 parents conducted by Morning Consult for EdChoice (2023) makes this point clear. When parents were asked, “Why is your youngest/oldest child enrolled in that school type?”, the differences among district and private school parents were striking. Fifty-two percent of district school parents indicated location was the top reason their child attended their school. This was followed by “Cost/Affordability” (27%) and “Safe environment) (26%). Meanwhile, private school parents listed “Academic quality” (50%), “Safe environment” (47%), and “Morals/Character” (33%) as their top reasons for choosing their child’s school.
When we consider whether residential assignment or school choice does more to promote the formation of a shared identity and community, the answer is clear. It is not just that choice allows for people of similar values or beliefs to voluntarily join together, it is that choice allows for identity to be set at the institutional level. In residentially assigned schools, identity can easily answer the “who are we” question, but it is not sufficient to answer the “what are we about” question. That is, the school’s ethos is driven by the individuals in the school. Whereas, in a choice school, the ethos can be set at the institutional level. Of course, the individuals in a choice school help shape the identity, but they are also selecting into an institutional one themselves. As such, a choice-based system appears more advantageous in forming a healthy learning community.
Conclusion
This paper considers whether the systemic structures of a public education system built on principles of pluralism, choice, and free association would do more to promote healthy learning communities than a system that relies on residential assignment to schools. Specifically, I examined how these two structures, choice and residential assignment, help shape two key characteristics needed for a healthy learning community (as described by Berkowitz). These two characteristics are a shared commitment and a shared identity. On both accounts, a choice based educational system appears to be more advantageous to forming a healthy learning community.
Thus far, the points I have made do not necessarily mean that a choice-based system would do more to promote virtue or character development. That, of course, would depend on what takes place in those schools. Yet, it seems highly probably that character and virtue would be more likely to be taught in schools with shared commitments and a shared identity. This would likely lead to more trust among educators and parents. Lickona (1991) has written,
Teachers worry about the flak they may get from some parents if they begin to teach values in a deliberate and systematic way.
Schools also wonder, “Should we teach values, in the sense of trying to get kids to adopt certain values, or should we just teach about values?” Some educators argue that promoting the adoption of certain values is a form of indoctrination and that schools should restrict themselves to encouraging critical thinking about values. (pp. 37-38)
In choice-based schools, teachers and school leaders may feel more at ease teaching values or discussing character when those features are explicitly stated and students are at school based on choice.
This point is borne out by the data. When asked, “In your opinion, how important is it for students to learn values, moral character, or religious virtues? (Grades 9-12),” support was much higher among teachers in choice schools (Morning Consult, 2023). Seventy-seven percent of charter school teachers indicated it was extremely or somewhat important as did 75 percent of private school teachers. Meanwhile, just 61percent of public school teachers expressed the same feeling.
To effectively promote virtue and character development among school students, schools need to be healthy learning communities. This takes school leaders, educators, and parents working in common cause. These sorts of communities can be formed in all sorts of schools. Yet, when we consider what structure is most likely to support the development of healthy learning communities, the answer is clear. A system of free choice that embraces educational pluralism is more equipped to foster the two of the conditions necessary for healthy schools to flourish—a shared commitment and a shared identity.
