There are moments when the headlines stop feeling like headlines and start feeling personal. This is one of them.

Philadelphia is once again facing the reality of school closures. For many, this may sound like a budget decision or a restructuring effort. But for those of us who live, work, and serve in these communities, we know better. When schools close, it is never just about buildings. It is about disruption. It is about displacement. It is about the slow erosion of stability in neighborhoods that are already being asked to carry too much.

To understand what is happening now, we have to acknowledge that this is not new.

In 2013, the School District of Philadelphia closed 23 schools in what became one of the largest mass school closures in United States history. At the time, it was framed as a necessary response to a financial crisis. Declining enrollment, aging infrastructure, and a growing budget deficit were cited as the primary reasons. The district argued that consolidating schools would create efficiency and redirect resources. These decisions disproportionately impacted Black and low income neighborhoods and raised ongoing questions about equity, access, and long term outcomes.

Now, in 2026, we are hearing the same language, seeing the same justifications, and watching the same blueprint unfold.

Students were forced to travel farther, often crossing unfamiliar or unsafe neighborhoods. Class sizes increased. Receiving schools became overcrowded. Communities lost not just educational spaces, but anchors places where families gathered, where resources were distributed, where relationships were built. Studies in the years that followed showed that the academic gains promised through consolidation never fully materialized, while the social and emotional toll on students was undeniable.

Now, more than a decade later, we are having the same conversation again.

Philadelphia’s public school system has been navigating financial instability for years. If we look at the data over time, a pattern begins to emerge:

• 2008–2012: The district faced deep cuts following the recession, losing hundreds of millions in state funding. Schools experienced staff layoffs, reduced programming, and growing deficits.
• 2013: 23 schools were closed to address a projected $300 million budget gap.
• 2014–2019: Incremental improvements in funding occurred, but they were inconsistent and often tied to temporary measures rather than structural reform.
• 2020–2022: The pandemic intensified existing inequities, placing additional strain on students, families, and school resources.
• 2023–2026: The district continues to face ongoing budget gaps, rising operational costs, and renewed discussions around closures and consolidation.

The issue has never been a single moment of crisis. It has been a system that has struggled to sustain itself long-term.

And when we look closely, we see why.

Philadelphia does not fund its schools through a single, stable system. It funds them through a patchwork of taxes, implemented one gap at a time:

• Soda Tax (2016): A 1.5¢ per ounce tax on sweetened beverages designed to fund initiatives like pre-K expansion, community schools, parks, and libraries.
• Property Taxes: The primary and ongoing source of local school funding, though deeply tied to neighborhood wealth disparities.
• Existing Rideshare Tax: A percentage-based tax on services like Uber and Lyft that contributes to city and school funding.
• Proposed Rideshare Fee (2026): A $1 per ride fee projected to generate approximately $48 million annually toward a $300 million budget shortfall.
• School Income Tax (SIT): A roughly 3.74% tax on unearned income such as dividends and rental income, generating over $60 million annually for the district.
• Philadelphia Parking Authority (PPA): Revenue from parking meters, tickets, and related services contributes tens of millions each year to the school system.

Individually, each of these efforts may appear to be a solution. Collectively, they reveal something else entirely.

If we have to keep creating new taxes to fund schools, then the problem is not the taxes. It is the system.

A system that relies on temporary fixes instead of long-term strategy will always find itself back in crisis. A system that depends heavily on local revenue will always reflect the inequalities of the communities it serves. And a system that responds to financial strain by closing schools will continue to destabilize the very neighborhoods it is meant to support.

As the Founder of ITAVFoundation, I see firsthand how deeply connected our communities are. Schools are not isolated institutions. They are tied to food access, mental health support, family stability, and opportunity. When a school closes, the impact does not stop at the classroom. It reaches into homes, into neighborhoods, and into the future of our children.

This is not about resisting change. It is about recognizing patterns.

What does it say about our priorities when education is continuously funded through reactive decisions. What does it mean for our children when the response to financial strain is to remove resources instead of strengthening them.

Philadelphia is not the only city facing these challenges. But we are at a point where we have to decide whether we will continue managing crises or begin building systems that prevent them.

Because our children deserve more than temporary solutions.

They deserve stability. They deserve investment. They deserve a system that is built to support them, not one that is constantly trying to catch up.

And until that changes, this will not be the last time we have this conversation.