When “Normal” No Longer Makes Sense
Let me paint a picture of what has somehow become normal.
As I’ve studied my school district’s budget and followed the thread through others across California, I’ve started to see distortions in the system that make my skin crawl. Looking at it with both a teacher’s heart and a physicist’s eye, I can’t help but notice patterns that defy logic.
The Lawyers Always Win
Our teachers’ union negotiates with the district under the watchful eye of lawyers on both sides. These lawyers are paid to manage conflict, not resolve it. The result? Entrenchment. Over the past five years, attorney fees in our district alone have more than doubled—from $1.5 million to $3.5 million.
The Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) promised equal rights for students with disabilities fifty years ago, but it never came with full funding. That gap created an industry of lawyers who make their living suing districts for violations—often with their fees reimbursed by the very schools they sue.
The Watchdogs That Bite
California created FCMAT to help school districts stay solvent. But after three decades of oversight, we’re still forced to “balance” unfunded budgets. The County Superintendent, who should be our ally, routinely overrides local decisions, approving charter schools that deepen inequities in funding for special education, foster kids, children of incarcerated parents, and students experiencing homelessness.
Charter Schools and Structural Inequity
Charter schools aren’t the enemy, but the structure is flawed. Small start-up schools can’t afford the full range of specialists—occupational therapists, speech pathologists, counselors—that large districts provide. So, families with higher needs students tend to stay in the public system, while charters serve those with fewer barriers.
Across California, we’ve found the same pattern: large districts enroll about 25 % high needs students; charters, 5–10 %. Our own chief budget officer suggested that fixing this imbalance alone might erase the district’s deficit.
Schools or Investments?
Meanwhile, charters have become a lucrative business for real estate developers. Public-school dollars flow steadily year after year—a predictable revenue stream at a lease price set by the developer. But there’s a key difference between running a school and running a business:
A school must stay solvent to serve children.
A business serves children to stay solvent.
That subtle inversion changes everything. It determines how decisions are made and whose creativity gets rewarded.
The Hidden Costs of “Choice”
Charter schools report strong English learner programs but rarely report data on homeless or foster youth. Why? Maybe it is because those students are far less likely to apply. Charters may be “free,” but you still have to find them, apply, and follow through—steps that require stability many families simply don’t have.
All of this happens within the law. Yet legality isn’t the same as justice and fairness.
A System That Protects Itself
Oversight agencies, lawyers, and bankers all profit from the dysfunction. FCMAT can take over a district, fire its superintendent, and hire outside consultants—paid by the same district already in crisis. Their recommendations are often spreadsheets of schools to close, not strategies to heal communities.
Seeing the Whole Picture
Each of these practices might seem reasonable in isolation, but together they form a web of contradictions. This year I was the only person in my district to witness the county board override our charter denial. Seeing that in context with everything else made it obvious: our local negotiations aren’t really with the district—they’re with the county’s financial overseers.
Even when new grants arrive, the money goes straight into reserves, not classrooms. Accounting rules take precedence over student needs. And when we object, we’re told we’re “irresponsible” or “can’t manage money.” Give us some leeway! We’re trying to serve students, not just ledgers.
The Deeper Question
At the heart of all this lies a question of purpose.
Are schools here to balance budgets so they can serve students?
Or are they serving students only as a means to balance budgets?
If our systems can’t tell the difference, they’ve lost sight of their true purpose.
From Polarization to Wholeness
In my upcoming book, I explore how polarization—whether in politics or education—arises from unseen forces within systems. My framework, SEW (Style, Emotions, Wholeness), helps uncover these forces.
Style: our habitual way of being.
Emotions: the fuel beneath our reactions.
Wholeness: the perspective that holds contradictions together.
Understanding these forces lets us see not just what people believe, but why. It’s how we move from fighting people to transforming systems.
Quantum Questions
As a physicist, I see parallels in quantum mechanics: the act of asking a question shapes the answer. For instance, if you measure a particle’s spin in the vertical direction, you can’t find out anything about its spin in the horizontal direction. But that doesn’t mean it is actually spinning in the vertical direction and not spinning in the horizontal direction. It's just responding the best it can to the question you asked!
Likewise, when politics asks, “How do we reduce crime?”, it locks us into limited answers. Is crime increasing? What kinds? Where? What side effects might come about if we do? What assumptions are we making? Who might be treated unfairly if we crack down on XYZ?
Or when someone at a cocktail party asks you, “Are you a Republican or Democrat?”… they're just setting you up to be misunderstood. Every person has a unique mix of beliefs and values!
Ibram X. Kendi reminds us that we all have racist behaviors because we live in a society built upon racism. He’s emphasizing that racism is something we do, not something we are.
If we find ourselves stuck in a rut, thinking small or feeling down on ourselves, changing the questions we ask in life can lead to entirely new answers.
Last month, I witnessed a board meeting where the school board shockingly rejected a plan to make further cuts. It was great news — a rare moment of collective unity and courageous alignment. And yet, almost immediately, there was backlash. That single vote triggered county oversight, and I realized just how little autonomy we really have.
Here’s the wording of the resolution that failed:
“Resolution to Identify the Amount of Revenue Enhancements and/or Budget Reductions Needed in 2026-2027 and 2027-2028 and to Require that a List of Revenue Enhancements and/or Budget Reductions for 2026-2027 be Included in the 2025-2026 Second Interim Report.”
Our questions define our possibilities. If we keep asking how to cut budgets instead of how to serve students, we shouldn’t be surprised that we find so few options within that framework.
It’s time to ask better questions and build systems that reflect a bigger whole.
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