Texas Spent $1 Billion on School Choice, and Most Awards Went to Kids Already in Private or Homeschool: What Parents Should Ask Before Switching Schools
The kitchen timer had been beeping for five minutes when Jesse pushed his crumpled writing worksheet across the table and said, “I’m just never going to get this.” It was 7:18 on a Tuesday. His backpack was upside down on the floor, and the state school-choice portal was still open on my laptop.
I taught third grade for six years before Jesse was born, so I know that a shutdown is usually information, not defiance. But knowing that doesn’t make the evenings easier. Jesse is bright, verbal, and obsessed with ocean predators, but getting ideas onto paper can make him look like a kid who has given up. His teacher had written that he “needs to build stamina,” which was true but not especially helpful. So when Texas announced its $1 billion school-choice program, I let myself imagine a smaller classroom, a calmer morning, maybe a school where writing didn’t feel like a fight.
A week later, I was in the elementary pickup line when Ana pulled in beside me. Her two kids already attended the private Catholic school across town. She waved her phone and said her education savings account award had come through.
“It’s about eight thousand dollars,” she said. “We were already paying tuition, but this covers registration and most of the after-care bill. I know three homeschool families buying curriculum with theirs too.”
I was happy for her. Her budget was real, and the registration fee had always stressed her out. But later, when I read the early state numbers, I understood why the program looked so different from our end. Roughly seven in ten awards went to children who were already in private school or being homeschooled. These were not, for the most part, families rescued from a failing classroom. They were families being reimbursed for a choice they had already made and could already arrange.
That distinction matters. School-choice programs often work like demand-side subsidies: the state provides money that follows a child to private tuition, homeschool materials, tests, therapies, or other approved expenses. For families already in private school, the award lowers an existing bill. For homeschool families, it can offset curriculum or services. But for a family like mine, the award does not automatically create a seat, a bus ride, or a teacher trained in the exact skill my son is missing.
I started the application anyway. We toured a private school in a converted church with neat hallways and children in navy shirts. The admissions director was warm, and the classroom looked orderly. Then I asked what happened when a child could not start a writing assignment.
“Our teachers differentiate,” she said.
I nodded and asked a more specific question. “If he stares at the page, tears up his paper, or says he’s stupid, what would the teacher do in the moment?”
She paused and said they usually reminded children to use their planner and ask questions at recess. I asked about class size: 24. I asked about a reading or writing specialist: none on staff. I asked about special education evaluations: families would need to pursue those privately. Tuition was around $13,000, and the award would not cover transportation, uniforms, or after-care.
The school was fine. It simply was not built for Jesse’s particular problem.
That night, I closed the private-school tabs and emailed his public-school teacher. I wrote: “Can we meet for 20 minutes? I’d like to look at Jesse’s recent writing samples and figure out where the work stops. I’m not asking for a full evaluation yet; I’d like a four-week plan and a date to check back.”
The meeting was more useful than the tour. His teacher spread out three papers. Jesse could explain detailed ideas aloud, but his handwriting was labored and his spelling took all his attention. By the time he finished one sentence, he had lost the next three. We agreed he could type two assignments a week, use a sentence frame for the first paragraph, and check in with the teacher after five minutes instead of sitting stuck until recess. At home, I stopped making him write everything by hand after a long school day. He got water and a snack, took a 10-minute walk, and used a three-item checklist: one idea, three sentences, one break. I set a timer for 12 minutes and told him, “Just tell me the smallest next sentence.” Sometimes he spoke it and used speech-to-text for the first draft.
None of that was glamorous. It worked better than I expected, partly because we stopped treating “school is hard” as a reason to change buildings and started identifying the exact demand that exceeded his skill.
If your child is struggling and choice money is available, it is worth asking whether a new school would actually change the daily trigger. A child who shuts down during open-ended writing may not improve in a uniform if the new teacher also expects independent writing without support. A child who needs explicit reading instruction needs to know the school’s actual reading program, not just that class sizes are small. A child who is being bullied or feels unsafe may genuinely need a fresh start, but that is different from a child who needs better accommodations in the same building.
When touring any school, public or private, skip the generic questions and ask about a normal Tuesday. Ask how reading groups are formed, how often children move between groups, and what training teachers have in reading instruction. Ask, “If my child refuses to begin work, what happens step by step?” Ask about suspension and expulsion policies, especially if your child is the type who falls apart rather than acts out. Ask what services are included, what costs extra, whether the scholarship renews, and whether transportation is provided. Do not assume an IEP, 504 plan, dyslexia services, speech therapy, or the same legal protections automatically travel with the money.
For homeschooling, the questions are just as practical. Who teaches reading and math? What curriculum will be used, and what happens if it does not fit? How often will your child be around other children? Where can you get outside testing if progress stalls? Homeschool can be a strong choice, but it requires time, planning, and enough adult attention to follow through.
Jesse is still in public school. Some evenings are still hard. Last week he hid a spelling quiz in his backpack, and we had to sit with it while his sister practiced piano in the next room. But he finished a typed science paragraph this month, and he still runs to meet his friends at recess. We have not ruled out applying for the program. A school with a strong dyslexia track, a closer location, or a different pacing model could still make sense.
What I no longer say is that money alone creates choice. Real choice means a seat your child can actually get to, adults who know how to teach the thing they need, and a price that does not hide three extra fees. The Texas program may be many things—relief for families already paying, support for homeschooling, a way to encourage new schools to open. But for the kids sitting over crumpled worksheets, it only helps if the money leads to a specific, better daily experience.
For now, we are watching the portal, checking in every four weeks, and paying more attention to Jesse’s next sentence than to the name on any school building.
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