New Jersey’s Constitution couldn’t be clearer: “The Legislature shall provide for the maintenance and support of a thorough and efficient system of free public schools for the instruction of all children in the State between the ages of five and eighteen years.” (N.J. Const. art. VIII, sec. 4, par.1).

In plain language, that means the State has both a legal and moral obligation to ensure that every child—no matter where they live—receives the education they need to become successful, productive members of society. As an educator, not a state official, I see firsthand how far we’ve strayed from that promise.

But right now, that promise is in danger.

Over the years, a perfect storm of legislation, policy shifts, and external crises has upended our educational landscape. The 2% tax levy cap, the move of school elections from April to November, the shifting state funding formula, and of course, the pandemic—each has contributed to a system where nearly every district in New Jersey is scrambling just to stay afloat.

As an educator—not a state official—I write this from the frontlines. I see firsthand how decisions made in Trenton and Washington ripple through classrooms, affect real children, and shape the kind of future we’re preparing them for. The system, in many ways, is stretched to its breaking point.

The State of New Jersey has a legal and moral obligation to ensure that every child, regardless of ZIP code, receives an education that prepares them to become productive, engaged members of society. But for decades, a series of policy shifts, court rulings, budget decisions, and unexpected crises have created an increasingly unsustainable environment for schools across the state.

Let’s go back to the beginning. In 1975, the Public School Education Act (Chapter 212) was passed in response to Robinson v. Cahill, where the New Jersey Supreme Court ruled that our reliance on local property taxes unfairly advantaged wealthy districts and shortchanged poorer ones. That law was meant to correct those imbalances, but the fight for equity didn’t end there.

Fast forward to 2008, when the School Funding Reform Act (SFRA) aimed to fix things. Its formula was designed to consider student need and distribute aid accordingly. While the law was ruled constitutional, it was never fully funded. Governor Corzine came close, but fell about $1 billion short of the formula’s “uncapped” funding target.

Then came the Christie years. Say what you will about the former governor, but in the world of public education, those were tough times. These are the years that metaphorically took a sledgehammer to public education and began the pitfall of where we are today. Governor Christie chose to fund schools only at the bare minimum required by law—ignoring both the spirit of SFRA and the needs of districts struggling to make ends meet. The Abbott v. Burke rulings, a series of landmark equity cases that began in 1985, were also stripped back. In 2011, the courts ordered $500 million in additional aid to 31 high-poverty “Abbott” districts—but only those districts. The result? A growing divide. Some communities saw sudden boosts in funding. Others had to make impossible cuts.

To make matters worse, Christie-era legislation moved school elections from April to November, removing the public’s vote on budgets as long as tax increases stayed within the new 2% cap. Districts that were already underfunded had virtually no mechanism to raise what they actually needed.

When Governor Murphy took office, he attempted to rebalance school funding with Senate Bill 2 (S2), designed to shift money from overfunded to underfunded districts. For some communities, this was long overdue. But for others—many of them still recovering from years of underinvestment—the cuts hit hard. Murphy’s administration phased in these changes over seven years and provided notice, but even a slow cut is still a cut.

Now, for districts that weren’t getting their fair share, this was great news, and in the Governors defense, he did give advanced notice to these districts, that there would be shuffling of funds to make it more equitable. Like everything educationally related, S2 was held up in court but ultimately prevailed. “S-2 also implemented a “state-aid differential” equation that was intended to ease the transition for any district that would see massive cuts by spreading the reductions over seven years. The differential equation sorts districts into two categories: underfunded and overfunded, by calculating the difference between what a district got the previous year in state aid and the amount it would get for the current year. Under the new formula, if that difference is negative, the district is underfunded and will get more aid. If the difference is positive, the district is considered overfunded and will see cuts”.(New Jersey | States | SchoolFunding. Info | Center for Educational Equity | Teachers College, Columbia University).

This was fair. I give credit to Governor Murphy and the Legislature during his time in office. Year after year, we’ve seen public education funding reach levels we’ve never seen before. These aren’t simple or universally popular choices, but it’s clear that the people in these roles understand what’s at risk—and they’ve shown a real willingness to invest in our kids.

And then, the pandemic.

Education was flipped upside down overnight. Kids were learning from laptops in their kitchens. Teachers, administrators, and parents were stretched to the brink. Everything we once relied on—routines, in-person support, school meals, direct instruction—disappeared in a matter of days. We all did what we had to do.

The federal government stepped in with emergency funding. It was the largest one-time infusion of education funds in modern history. Districts used the money for PPE, to address learning loss, improve ventilation, and finally, bring 1:1 technology to students. In many places, this funding was the only reason schools could function.

Here in Clifton, we were fortunate. Our superintendent, Dr. Robertozzi, led with clarity and purpose. He made the tough calls when it mattered most, invested those federal dollars wisely, and positioned us to actually see long-term benefits. Thanks to his leadership, we’re still building on that momentum today.

But this was never permanent money. We were told the funding would end in September 2024, and districts prepared for that. They encumbered funds, entered contracts, and made careful investments knowing the clock was ticking.

And yet—like a plot twist in a bad movie—the rug was pulled out early. Nearly 30 districts in New Jersey had their federal aid rescinded with no warning. Millions in expected funding vanished overnight. Projects likely will be halted, but vendors still need to be paid. Budgets thrown into chaos.

This money was crucial. With an economy in the trash, people not working, mom-and-pop businesses going under and heck, even large corporations downsizing, there was no way a local Board can say to their tax bases, we are going to raise 2%. It would have been political suicide and put people in a tougher spot than they already were. Therefore, the money that came in became a crutch. It helped with many things and we ultimately knew it was going to be phased out at some point.

All of this is happening while school districts are being hit with a 20% increase in health benefits, ballooning charter tuition costs, skyrocketing energy bills, and a statewide teacher shortage that’s driven up personnel costs.

And what tools do districts have to deal with this? A 2% cap. That’s it.

Boards of education are reluctant—understandably—to ask already-struggling taxpayers for more. And now, federal aid meant to ease the crisis has been yanked away before many districts were ready.

Across the state, we're seeing reductions in staff, cuts to student services, program eliminations—all of which directly impact kids. And while adults may debate formulas and funding caps, students only know that their favorite teacher is gone, or the after-school program they loved no longer exists.

Educators know the stakes. We never entered this field to get rich. Most of us are used to being undervalued. And still, if given the choice, most of us wouldn’t trade this work for anything else—because we love what we do. But even passion has its limits.

We are at a tipping point. Education in New Jersey is fragile. Morale among educators is low. Budgets are strained. Communities are growing weary.

But here’s what gives me hope: I know this isn’t the responsibility of one person. And no one person can fix it. It will take all of us. As Senator Cory Booker says, “The power of the people is greater than the people in power.”

I truly believe that the antiquated way of how we have always done and seen education is a way of the past and now with everything happening in Washington, it will force us to move forward, revamp education how it should be, and finally be able to give our kids the very best they truly deserve.