When the bell stops: What Atlanta’s school closures mean for our educators
Editor’s Note: The Atlanta Journal-Constitution is running a series of guest essays about APS Forward 2040, the long-range plan under discussion in Atlanta Public Schools to reshape its future. Here is the latest essay in this series:
When discussing the future of Atlanta Public Schools, we often focus on buildings, enrollment zones and efficiency. Yet, what we seldom focus on in those conversations are the people inside those buildings, the educators whose lives, careers and sense of purpose are directly impacted by every decision that is made.
In August, APS released its Comprehensive Long-Range Facilities Plan, also branded as APS Forward 2040: Reshaping the Future of Education. The plan outlines proposed redistricting, repurposing and closures across the district, citing shifting enrollment trends and facility underutilization. According to the district, APS plans to close or repurpose 16 as part of this realignment effort. On paper, it reads as progress, an effort to modernize and optimize the system for the next generation. In practice, the plan has created understandable uncertainty for many of the educators who make our schools thrive.
At the close of the last school year, several roles across the district were consolidated to improve efficiency and streamline operations. As a result, some educators — both in school leadership and at the district level — returned to classrooms or found other opportunities. And while these educators continue to serve students with excellence, their reassignment represents a meaningful shift in how experience and expertise are utilized. Such changes — though often necessary from a systems perspective — carry emotional and instructional ripple effects that are difficult to measure.
I attended one of the early community meetings introducing this plan at Sutton Middle School. When a parent asked what would happen to teachers — many of whom the community expressed deep appreciation for — the response from district leadership, while perhaps logistical in intent, came across to many of us as dismissive of the human impact. The tone left us educators and families alike feeling uneasy, as if the stability of those who teach and serve our children might be an afterthought in the broader reorganization process.
Across the district, many educators are now grappling with anxiety about their futures, unsure of where they will be placed or how changes might affect their students and school communities. The district refers to this as “right-sizing,” but for those closest to the work, it can feel like displacement without a clear direction forward.
Educators are not interchangeable parts to be shifted around for efficiency. They are the foundation of public education, the people greeting students at the door, tutoring during lunch, and staying after-hours to ensure every child succeeds. They deserve transparency, respect and stability.
It is difficult to ask teachers to give their all when they are unsure whether their job or even their school will exist next year. It is even harder to recruit new teachers when seasoned ones are feeling destabilized. APS has long spoken of equity, but true equity must also extend to those who make learning possible.
The schools identified for potential repurposing are largely those serving historically Black neighborhoods, communities that have already endured decades of disinvestment. While data may justify consolidation, numbers alone cannot convey the loss of a school that has been the heartbeat of a neighborhood for generations.
Ursula K. Le Guin once wrote of a city called Omelas, a place of great beauty built upon the suffering of one neglected child. The story raises a moral question: What good is progress if it comes at the expense of another’s well-being? In the same way, what good is it for APS to build new, gleaming facilities if the educators who nurture our children feel overlooked, displaced or forgotten?
Efficiency must walk hand-in-hand with empathy. A district that values people as much as progress will always be stronger for it. If APS truly seeks to reshape the future of education, it should begin by centering the educators who make their future possible, ensuring that those impacted by restructuring have clear pathways, support and opportunities to remain in the profession they love.
James Baldwin once said, “The paradox of education is precisely this: that as one begins to become conscious, one begins to examine the society in which he is being educated.”
Atlanta’s educators are deeply conscious. They see the changes unfolding and care deeply about what they mean for students, families and the city itself. The question before us is whether we will build a system that uplifts both students and teachers or one that prioritizes optics over impact.
Atlanta’s educators have long been the city’s quiet miracle, doing extraordinary work in ordinary spaces. But even miracles need support. If APS hopes to build a thriving future, it must begin by caring for the very hands that hold it together.
Chryss Moultrie is an educator and community advocate focused on equity and innovation in public education. The perspectives shared in this piece reflect his personal opinions.
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