The fall of early childhood education programs
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For the month of October, the Reckon Report is focusing on caregiving across the human lifespan, in a series we're calling Cradle to Grave. One of the most common uses of the phrase in English-speaking countries is in reference to the United Kingdom’s public healthcare system, the NHS. From prenatal care to elder care and everything in between, we’ll be looking at America’s caregiving institutions and how they measure up (or don’t) with those of other nations. Last week, the U.S. narrowly escaped a government shutdown when politicians agreed to a 45-day funding deal. They effectively kicked the can down the road to mid-November in the hopes that a long-term agreement can be reached sooner than later. One less acknowledged area of concern for government funding was education, particularly funding for early childhood education programs like Head Start, a free preschool program for children from low-income households. It got a brief mention in a White House press release a few weeks ago ahead of the shutdown dealmaking, but overall, the program hasn't gotten much national attention in recent years. Up to 1 million children per year are enrolled in Head Start programs across the country, including in U.S. territories and on Native American tribal lands. Researchers have found that Head Start attendance as a small child increases the likelihood of a student graduating high school and attending college, thus boosting their lifelong earning potential. A possible government shutdown in November wouldn’t just deprive incoming students from access to Head Start, it could also impact current students as Health and Human Services wouldn’t be able to distribute grant money to the organizations that run the programs on a local level. In Florida, for example, the program wouldn’t be impacted immediately, but a prolonged government shutdown could result in furloughs and closures, leaving children without education and parents without childcare options. |
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(Image credit: MLive file photo) |
Head Start is one of many federal programs launched during President Lyndon Johnson’s War on Poverty in the 1960s. It was designed to provide preschool services, health screenings and nutritious meals to children from low-income families. Initially a pilot program meant to last eight weeks, Johnson used his political capital to push for a year-round program that quickly gained bipartisan support. In the decades since, Head Start has remained a popular-yet-underfunded program. Millions of eligible children can’t get a seat in their local program, leaving parents with expensive alternatives or in some cases no childcare at all. |
(Photo credit: Sean Meagher/The Oregonian) |
As mentioned in this newsletter in July, women are returning to the workforce in record numbers as the post-COVID labor market tries to reach some sort of balance. But women are also overwhelmingly responsible for childcare, even in married or cohabitating couples. That leaves many in a bind: foregoing work to save money on childcare or working outside of the home and spending thousands of dollars per year on daycare, babysitting or other childcare arrangements. For low-income women, these issues are magnified. Head Start, which is free, offers a possibility to alleviate some of this burden by removing the chicken-and-egg problem of “you can’t get a job if you don’t have someone to watch your kids, but you can’t afford the childcare if you don’t have a job.” |
Head Start was revolutionary when it was launched, and to some degree it still is: free, government-funded childcare staffed by licensed professionals meant to level the playing field for low-income families before their children head to kindergarten. Even as childhood poverty has doubled in the last few years (meaning even more children are eligible to attend), there isn’t more money being put into the program to reflect those changes. And that lack of funding leaves gaps where inequality may continue to grow. |
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This article was published in partnership with the Center for Public Integrity. |
As a third-generation Black farmer in Arkansas, Dewayne Goldmon understands the frustrations of Black farmers trying to get more aid for past injustices from the U.S. Department of Agriculture. But as the senior advisor for racial equity to the USDA secretary, he also understands why the agency has struggled to address discrimination — and still does today. So much comes down to data. |
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Thanks for reckoning with me, Aria |
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