The roots of NYC’s public school system can be found in the Free School Society.  With limited resources, the Free School Society ran a handful of free schools for the city’s poor at the beginning of the 19th century.  DeWitt Clinton was its first president and also the first to contribute financially to the society.  In 1838 the Free School Society became the Public School Society (PSS), a centralized, Protestant-leaning body devoted to educating all NYC children free of charge.  After a heated, years long battle with the Catholics who wanted the PSS to make room for their worshipers (many of whom were poor, Irish immigrants), the city created the Board of Education (BOE) in 1842.  Even though this board was non-sectarian, the Catholics were appeased because power was no longer centralized as it had been with the PSS; instead, power was divided up into 17 separate, locally-elected, neighborhood wards (Great School Wars 83).  From here on out, the history of public schools in NYC can be described as a push and pull of centralization versus decentralization, otherwise known as community control. 

The first BOE had 173 members made up of commissioners from those 17 wards.  The wards controlled their own schools and simply sent their bills to the BOE, who could make rules and regulations but who couldn’t compel compliance.  What’s more, the wards decided which of their members would also sit on the BOE, so their loyalty was to their ward and not to the BOE and the betterment of schools as a whole (85).  In an effort to remedy this situation, in 1864, the 17 wards became seven districts with only 21 members whose elected commissioners did not also sit on local boards — the BOE was making moves to centralize power.  Five years later “Boss” Tweed would solidify such centralization by persuading the state legislature to replace the elected BOE with an interim board comprised of mayoral appointments. This gave him time to amend the City Charter, which he did in 1871, replacing the BOE with the Department of Public Instruction.  This department managed schools for two years.  In 1873, however, the Tweed scandal broke and the 1864 BOE system was restored albeit with one important distinction:  officials were no longer elected positions.  Instead, the mayor appointed members to the BOE, who then appointed five trustees to the local wards (99). This move advanced BOE centralization.  

As the 19th century came to a close, room for school reform opened up.  By 1880, the rise of industrialization and the increase of immigration created an environment of raised education expectations.  Reformers (mostly, those who wanted community control of schools) should have been able to make an easy case:  At the end of the 19th century schools were so crowded — in some cases 150 students to one teacher — that they had to deny admission to the poorest of children; moreover, buildings were sanitary disasters (120).  Unfortunately,  partially because the BOE was comprised of businessmen, not educators, reformers were getting nowhere in spite of several committees and proposed bills (138-43).  Until 1896, that is, when Nicholas Butler almost single-handedly helped pass a bill to officially centralize the schools:  “On April 22, 1896, Major Strong signed the reform bill and centralized the school system of NYC” (158).  By 1901, the concentration of authority, the professionalization of those in charge, and the consolidation of the five boroughs into one Greater City of New York made possible sweeping education reform the main of which was that schools would now be charged with educating the whole student while fighting against the ills of society (167).  In other words, schools were expected to do more than help children reach academic goals — they were now expected to instill in each student physical, social, and emotional support.  During this time, NYC public school buildings were erected en masse, thanks to Charles B.J. Snyder who spent 18 years as Superintendent of School Buildings. Snyder, an architect and engineer, “built public schools with windows that made up nearly sixty percent of the buildings’ facades, much of the remaining space covered in lavish ornamentation.”  His signature style was known as the H-Plan:  “a shape that cut through the middle of a block to reduce street noise and maximize space while simultaneously providing children with nearly an acre of open play area.”  280 of his schools are still standing, most still public schools, and 13 have even been landmarked. 

With the increase in school buildings and the rise and fall of various mayors whose ideas of school reform differed tremendously, by the 1940s the system seemed to be functioning well — they had even gotten seats down to 34 per classroom.  Three things contributed to this upswing:  1. The incorporation into education of social work and psychological principles, 2. The appropriation of Great Depression Federal assistance, 3. The mitigation of immigration such so that most students were now 2nd and 3rd generation Americans.  After WWII however, disenfranchised Blacks and Puerto Ricans flocked to NYC, in need of the city’s public and private welfare services, and the school system was not equipped to support this influx (243).

After Brown v Board, NYC tried on multiple occasions to integrate their schools.  What problematized matters was that parents wanted to keep their children in the neighborhood but neighborhoods themselves were segregated; also, even if policies such as bussing were enacted and enforced, there were simply not enough white students to go around.  One thing that stalled solutions from the outset was that people assumed that an all black school must be a bad school — an assumption that was not always accurate.  During this time of the integration struggle, the BOE’s legitimacy began to crumble (256).  Schools were absorbing crisis after crisis, in midst of which the United Federation of Teachers (UFT), founded in 1960, became the main bargaining agent for the city’s 43,500 teachers (265).

Despite a Feb 3, 1964 boycott in which 45% of the city’s pupils participated (460,000); despite a second that was half as successful; and in the shadow the Allen report (commissioned by the BOE) which argued that it would be nearly impossible for the system to desegregate; integration and the improvement of NYC public schools continued to stymie.  Even with the opening of the first intermediate school, IS 201, on 127th and Madison, equity seemed a far reach.  That community — with Preseton Wilcox, a charismatic Black social worker, at the helm — wanted the school’s leadership to reflect its students, in part, for reasons well-articulated by a mother of seven, Helen Testamark, who at the time spoke to a TV crew:  “Either they bring white children in to integrate 201 or they let the community run the school — let us pick the principal and the teachers, let us set the educational standards, and make sure they are met.”  Another parent voiced, “I don’t want anymore teachers who make excuses for not teaching, who act as if they’re afraid of a seven-year-old child because his color is different.  I don’t want to be told that my daughter can’t learn because she comes from a fatherless home or because she had corn flakes for breakfast instead of eggs” (299).  This was in 1966. Such escalated the heated topic of “community control” (decentralization) of schools.

Experimental grant-funded projects to test out the concept of community controlled schools began in earnest in the summer of 1967 at three “demonstration districts”:  Ocean Hill-Brownsville, the IS 201 district in East Harlem, and the Two Bridges distinct in the LES.  Unfortunately, any decision-making process during the launch of those community schools was made difficult by the back and forth of the teachers (90% of whom were white) and the community leaders (most of whom were of color).  By the end of the summer the community directed its ire not at the teachers in a general sense but rather, at the UFT specifically — a board whose whiteness would ultimately continue to put them at odds with proponents of community control. The years of push and pull between the BOE, those who wanted the BOE decentralized, and those who wanted the BOE so decentralized that only complete community control would suffice; this push and pull was made even more pronounced by “the rapid escalation of aspirations for black power” (346).  These demonstration districts (those who would only be satisfied with complete control of their community schools) lost patience with the BOE and in one fell swoop, fired 19 teachers and supervisors and in so doing, ran face first into the UFT, who insisted they had no right to transfer or fire them without a hearing:  “Therefore, with the hope on gaining power by the bold act of asserting it, the Ocean Hill-Brownsville board [demonstration district] decided to remove the nineteen professionals” (356).  In the end, it seemed that the BOE was too hasty when it gave support to these experimental projects before thinking about how it would distribute power.  Nonetheless, after all was said and done, rather than decentralize the BOE with legislation, the mayor instead did so by nominating  de-centralization-leaning members to the board and recognizing the three demonstration districts as regular, local school boards.  Despite their fight with the UFT, the demonstration districts thought that community control of schools “was the wave of the future” (361).

By 1969, the lines were drawn:  those who wanted de-centralization (ie: community control) and those who did not (primarily, the UFT).  Ultimately, legislation passed that did the following important things:  1.) put five elected (one per borough) and two mayoral appointees on the BOE, 2.) divided the city into 30-32 districts, 3.) replaced the superintendent of schools with a chancellor who had wide-ranging powers, 4.) gave community boards operating power over their districts, except for high schools who were still under the authority of the chancellor and city board (387).  New York City public school enrollment reached an all-time high of 3.5 million in 1970-71, and during the 70s the BOE continued integration programs and policies to curb the increasing segregation caused in part from whites who were fleeing the city in droves.  This was all happening during a fiscal and educational decline.  According to Stanley S. Litwo in “Restructuring NYC’s Schools,” “ Reading scores, math scores, and pupil attendance all showed downward trends.”  Thousands of teachers and guidance teachers were laid off, the school week was shortened, and kids had seven or eight different teachers during the school year.  And schools were as segregated as ever.  Leslie Oelsner in the November 21, 1977 NY Times article writes, “No one, apparently, has drafted for NYC the sort of specific desegregation plan that has been made for various other cities.”  Top ten ranking middle schools of 1975 were at least 2/3 and in some cases up to 90% white, while the lowest ten were more than 90 percent students of color.  During these years, arts programs declined and gifted and talented programs launched.  

Enrollment declined through the 80s despite the first “alternative school” (District 79) in 1983 and despite the popular “small schools” movement centered in East Harlem which gave schools and teachers more control over their own schools.  During the 90s an influx of private foundation money and an implementation of school-based management, which encourages teams of teachers and administrators to use school data to inform curriculum and budget decisions that meet specific student needs, public schools were trying to find ways to innovate.  Meanwhile, enrollment hit 2.9 million in the late 90s (it has dropped every year since).  In December 1998 NY passed its first charter school law, becoming the 34th state to allow charter schools.  The law allowed the state to create up to 100 charters, though there was no limit to the number of existing public schools that could convert. Overall, while schools tried to innovate during the 70s, 80s, and 90’s, mayors were trying in vain to reclaim the power they had back when the BOE was an independent agency whose seven members they could appoint to fixed terms.  In 2002, one mayor finally succeeded.

Mayor Michael Bloomberg wanted more than to simply appoint seven members to the board.  He wanted complete control because he felt this would not only root out corruption but also enable more seamless change.  In June 2002, the state legislature gave it to him, some say, thanks to his promise to the UFT of a 22% teacher pay increase.  Mayor Bloomberg turned the school system from an independent agency into a city department—like the police department or the sanitation department — over which he had almost total control.  The new Department of Education (DOE) was still technically one central board of education, but the mayor now appointed the majority of members whom he could fire at will.  According to Diane Ravitch:  “The reorganization was a corporate model of tightly centralized, hierarchical, top-down control, with all decisions made at Tweed and strict supervision of every classroom to make sure the orders flowing from headquarters were precisely implemented. The general perception was that the mayor planned to run the school system like a business, with standard operating procedures across the system.”  Essentially, Bloomberg managed the DOE as though it were a business — even his Chancellor Joe Klein was a businessman — where competition and data could breed innovation and success.  Under Bloomberg, per-student spending in the city increased from roughly $11,000 in 2001–02 to $14,000 in 2004–05 and then skyrocketed to about $19,000 in 2010–11 before reaching its current level. Charter schools flourished, and traditional public schools and principals were given more autonomy. They were encouraged to seek out the marketplace to improve efficiency, and they were offered the chance to affiliate with “support organizations” such as the Urban Assembly, who could offer services but not supervision.  These organizations formed a network known as Affinity Groups and functioned (and continue to function) inside the DOE as a separate Affinity District; their roots can be found in the 1960s “alternative high schools” which addressed systemic inequity and promoted social justice.  During this time and during the Bloomberg years in general, schools were flooded with requests for data — surveys, reports, evaluations.  Some argued that this environment ultimately narrowed curriculum and pedagogy.  Between 2006 and 2010, the amount spent on art and music supplies was cut by 79%, and according to a 2011 audit, not one school reached the state-required minimum for physical education.  At the end of the day, if a school didn’t perform, it was closed and its students transferred out.  It’s true that this caused a rise in smaller schools and that studies show a 10% increase in the likelihood of graduation and a 4% increase in college persistence at those types of institutions; it’s also true that high school graduation rates have increased overall since 2002; however, some find Bloomberg’s claims of closing the achievement gap misleading.  They point to the rise of credit recovery programs or the failure to fully count students who dropped out as more likely explanations.  The extensive and complex high school choice system which uses an algorithm to match students with high schools, was also a Bloomberg-era change.  On the surface, this system and the Bloomberg era overall tries to enable more student and family choice for NYC schools.  But many disagree, saying instead that the system and policies have instead intensified inequity.

When Bill de Blasio ran for mayor in 2012, he remarked, “I think [Bloomberg], after 10 years, has sort of re-declared war on the UFT. And I could not understand why that was productive.”  Indeed, once de Blasio himself took charge, he and his Chancellor Carmen Farina rekindled the relationship between the DOE and the UFT.   De Blasio was and continues to be critical of the gains that charter schools have made, citing their influx of resources for test prep, which he does not find sustainable or replicable.  In fact, a charter advocacy group, Families for Excellent Schools, launched a $3.6 million advertising campaign attacking the mayor after he redirected charter expansion money into preK programs.  Significant change to the actual school system though — including proposed rezoning policies — didn’t crystalize under de Blasio until recently:  in 2020 the pandemic gripped NYC schools and in so doing gave the DOE a chance to address the inequities imbedded within.  Change was seen primarily through the high school admissions process where the DOE lifted the requirement for geographic priority, meaning that more students could apply to more schools.  This made a difference:  for example, in 2021 offers to the coveted Eleanor Roosevelt in Manhattan’s District 2 increased from 1% to 62%, with a significant increase in offers to students from the Bronx, Brooklyn, and Queens.  

The pandemic has set a stage squarely at the center of its citizens:  free lunch, WiFi, afterschool programs — these so-called school “props” do matter to a NYC public school student because without them (we have learned), she literally and figuratively may go hungry.  We don’t know what the next ten years will bring to our NYC public school students — we barely can foresee the next month.  There will likely always be that push and pull between mayor and UFT; chancellor and principal; community and DOE.  It’s part of the NYC public school DNA.  But reformers understand that this is no way to educate a citizenry.  Our experience with the pandemic has shown us that we’ve got to leverage the tension to locate the pressure points that will protect against illiteracy and inequity.  Pressure points are identified only when the body accepts vulnerability, so if we want to make our schools better, we — the community, the DOE, the chancellor, principals, UFT, and mayor — must let ourselves be vulnerable.  We must be willing to be wrong so that our ideas can be pressed upon and folded into each other.  Only then can a school system nearly two centuries old begin to make good on its promise to educate all NYC children, free of charge.