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Philadelphia plans to close 17 neighborhood public schools – here’s what went wrong when it shuttered 30 schools in 2013

The former Anna Howard Shaw Middle School in Southwest Philadelphia became Hardy Williams Elementary, a K-6 charter school, in 2015. Julio C. Vega, CC BY-NC-SA

The Philadelphia School Board voted in May 2026 to close 17 of its 218 schools. Seven are elementary schools, five are middle schools and five are high schools. Additionally, three other high schools will move into existing schools and share buildings.

I am an educational anthropologist and co-author of “Schools for Sale,” a forthcoming book that examines what happened during Philly’s last wave of mass school closures, when the district closed 30 of its 249 public schools between June 2012 and June 2013.

My co-authors and I are often asked by citizens, academics and stakeholders whether the School District of Philadelphia’s stated goals for closures – cost savings and reinvestment in existing schools – are achievable. People also want to know whether the current planned closures are similar to or different from 2013.

Shot of large beige building in foreground with glass skyscrapers in background
The Philadelphia School District plans to close 17 schools over the next year to help address its $300 million budget shortfall. Local schools and communities say they’ve been left out of the planning process. AP Photo/Matt Rourke

Why schools closed in 2013

The wave of public school closures 13 years ago in Philadelphia also swept other major American cities, including Chicago, New York and Washington, D.C. These cities, like Philadelphia, decided to close traditional neighborhood schools in order to consolidate underused buildings as the number of students enrolled in their districts dwindled.

In 2013, Philadelphia’s public schools were grappling with roughly 70,000 empty seats, in a district designed for 195,000 students.

This was the cumulative result of a decade of federal and state policies, including No Child Left Behind, passed in 2001, and Race to the Top, in 2009. Both policies tied school funding to standardized test performance, meaning that schools that failed to meet testing benchmarks were recommended for closure and charter conversion. These policies fueled rapid charter school expansion in Philadelphia and nationally.

Between 1999 and 2014, approximately 80 charter schools opened in the city. The share of Philadelphia students enrolled in charters leaped from 2% to 36%, and funding to support them followed the same path.

At the same time, the district faced mounting financial pressures after federal stimulus funds that the city received following the 2008 recession expired. Meanwhile, the costs of maintaining a parallel charter sector continued to grow.

A state law passed in 1997 requires all Pennsylvania districts to remit 70% of per-pupil funding to the charter each child attends instead of a public school. This drove up payments to charter schools by more than 3,000% from 1999 to 2014 and diverted funds away from district schools that still needed to maintain fixed costs, such as utilities, staffing and building improvements.

By early 2012, the district faced a US$300 million budget deficit. The district laid off more than 300 teachers and support staff the following year.

The district hired large consulting firms from out of state in 2010 and again in 2012 to evaluate which schools would meet the criteria for closure. The consultants considered building quality, building use and academic performance. They even created a way to measure school safety based on suspensions and violent incidents. One thing they didn’t do was visit the schools or communities. Ultimately, they listed 60 potential schools for closure.

This number narrowed to 30 after rounds of community meetings and a vote by the School Reform Commission, which at the time was a partially state-appointed, partially mayoral-appointed board.

Six public schools shuttered in June 2012 and another 24 in June 2013. The closures displaced nearly 10,000 students. Many went on to a new public school assigned to them; others went to charters or left the district altogether.

Man in white dress shirt and tie sits at school desk around middle school students in uniforms
Former Massachusetts governor and Republican candidate for president Mitt Romney visits the Universal Bluford Charter School in Philadelphia in May 2012 to promote his federal school choice plan. Mario Tama via Getty Images

Why schools are closing in 2026

Now, Philadelphia – along with other cities, including Baltimore, St. Louis, Houston and Atlanta – is planning a new wave of school closures.

As in 2013, officials cite underutilized space and the goal of redirecting savings from closures into long-deferred capital improvements for the district’s aging facilities. The average school building in Philadelphia is 75 years old.

Declining enrollment – there are approximately 20,000 fewer students in district-run schools than a decade ago – drives these vacancies, but the underlying dynamics of enrollment have also shifted.

Enrollment at in-person charter schools remains stable, having increased just 3% between 2017 and 2022. However, enrollment at cyber charter schools, where students attend classes virtually, more than doubled over the same period, thanks in part to the pandemic. Cyber charters now serve about 13,400 students districtwide.

A decline in enrollment at Philadelphia public schools reflects broader national trends. These include smaller kindergarten cohorts, declining birth rates, more people moving out of cities post-pandemic and recent federal immigration restrictions that have reduced the number of immigrant children enrolling in public schools nationwide.

Overstated savings, still-vacant buildings

In 2013, The School District of Philadelphia projected $28 million in cost savings from its closure plan. However, a report released later that year from the city controller predicted that the projected savings were overstated in the 2012 facilities plan and, in practice, did not materialize.

The report pointed to underestimated costs associated with students moving to new schools, the ongoing expenses of maintaining vacant properties and the relatively modest scale of the projected $28 million savings in the context of a roughly $300 million annual deficit.

Attendance rates and academic performance dropped both for students who transitioned from closed schools as well as for students at the receiving schools.

After the 30 schools closed, there was not a long-term facilities planning process to meaningfully invest in the school buildings that remained open. This lack of planning exacerbated many of the very conditions the current plan now seeks to address, a reflection of both lack of funds to maintain schools but also a lack of process by district facilities’ managers to meaningfully address building conditions after the 2013 closures.

My colleagues and I determined that nearly 30% of the Philadelphia schools that closed in 2013 have remained vacant or unsold in the 13 years since. Only 28% were repurposed for public educational use. The rest were converted into charter schools, demolished for university development or redeveloped as market-rate housing.

Meanwhile, cyber charters increased their revenue by $425 million and reserves to cover unexpected expenses by 144% between 2020 and 2023, with support from school choice advocates such as cyber charter leaders and advocacy organizations.

A performance audit by the Pennsylvania auditor general in February 2025 raised concerns about cyber charter administrators’ potential misuse of these funds, including spending on bonuses for staff and leadership, gift cards for donors, and real estate investments that did not pertain to educational purposes.

Clarity and accountability build community trust

We think that outsourcing closure planning to consultants – as happened in Philadelphia in 2013 and is happening again in 2026 – while offering limited opportunities for meaningful engagement beyond “community updates” that did not integrate public feedback, undermines parents’ and communities’ trust in the public education system.

In 2013 there was a lack of clarity from district officials around the intended outcomes of the school closures. The large transfer of public funds to more privatized schooling options such as charters occurred despite limited evidence of improved performance by charters, selective enrollment policies and ongoing concerns about their use of public funds. This shows that weak oversight allows problems such as empty seats and poor building conditions to persist. At the same time, students are being moved into a separate charter system that the district pays for, while neighborhood schools receive less funding and become more likely to close.

Today, more research supports alternative approaches to closing and selling schools. These include repurposing closed schools for community and educational purposes while retaining public ownership of the buildings. A reckoning with the expansion of both in-person and cyber charters has also been called for recently by The Philadelphia Inquirer’s editorial board.

Ongoing facilities master planning that focuses on capital investments and integrates community ideas into the future of existing buildings can minimize disruptions and build trust with communities affected. Yet despite the success of these alternatives in other cities, the current school closure process in Philadelphia continues to rely on much of the flawed logic of 2013.

Read more of our stories about Philadelphia and Pennsylvania, or sign up for our Philadelphia newsletter on Substack.

The Conversation

Julia McWilliams received funding from the Spencer Foundation.

Why the Iran war is breaking the US-European strategic alliance

German Chancellor Friedrich Merz, French President Emmanuel Macron, British Prime Minister Keir Starmer and Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni arrive for a press conference at the Elysee Palace in Paris on April 17, 2026. Jeanne Accorsini/Pool/AFP via Getty Images

Days after U.S. and Israeli strikes on Iran began on Feb. 28, 2026, Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez denied American forces the use of the Naval Station Rota and the Morón Air Base – installations that had hosted U.S. troops for more than 70 years.

“We are a sovereign country that does not wish to take part in illegal wars,” Sánchez said. U.S. President Donald Trump responded by threatening a full trade embargo against Spain.

Weeks later, Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni – Trump’s closest European ally and the only EU head of government invited to his second inauguration – broke publicly with Washington.

“When we don’t agree, we must say it,” she said. “And this time, we do not agree.” Rome then refused to let U.S. bombers refuel at a base in southern Italy.

These are not minor diplomatic frictions. As a scholar of alliance politics and nuclear security, I see something much larger than a tactical disagreement. The Iran war’s most consequential casualty may not be in Tehran. It may be American credibility as an ally, and with it, the trans-Atlantic alliance itself.

The Iraq comparison misleads

The initial U.S. and Israeli strikes on Iran were launched with virtually no advance consultation with European allies. The Trump administration treated NATO partners not as participants in strategic decision-making but as logistical infrastructure to be commandeered or punished for refusing assistance.

European governments, even those most invested with the U.S., declined to join the campaign. The Trump administration has responded with the embargo threat against Spain and the withdrawal of 5,000 U.S. troops from Germany.

“The U.S.A. will REMEMBER!!!” Trump posted on Truth Social on March 31, 2026.

The reflex in Washington has been to read this as a rerun of 2003, when France and Germany opposed the Iraq War. In January 2003, Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld dismissed France and Germany as “old Europe” while courting the postcommunist “new Europe,” including Poland, the Czech Republic and Hungary.

On the surface, the parallel is tempting: a unilateral American war in the Middle East, European refusal to participate, trans-Atlantic recriminations.

Protestors carry three posters depicting lawmakers with crowns on their heads.
Protesters against the Iran war carry placards in Rome on March 28, 2026, depicting U.S. President Donald Trump, Italy’s Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. Tiziana Fabi/AFP via Getty Images

But the comparison conceals more than it reveals. In 2003, the United States wanted Europe in its coalition. The George W. Bush administration sought United Nations authorization, courted allies and treated European refusal as a problem to be managed.

In 2026, the Trump administration explicitly does not want European input. It views allies as freeloaders and threatens them with economic coercion. It treats their hesitation as cause for retribution rather than negotiation.

The deeper difference is structural. In 2003, the trans-Atlantic alliance still rested on shared commitments to collective defense, open trade and an international, rules-based order.

Today, the Trump administration does not share the commitments that traditionally bound the United States to its European partners, whether on NATO, the Russia-Ukraine war, or the rules governing trade and migration.

The shared values that papered over the Iraq disagreement in 2003, and that allowed President Nicolas Sarkozy to reintegrate France into NATO’s command by 2009, are no longer there to do the work of repair.

The April 2026 collapse of Viktor Orbán’s 16-year rule in Hungary left Trump without a serious political ally among major European governments.

The real precedent is Suez

A more illuminating precedent lies further back. In 1956, Britain and France went to war with Egypt over the Suez Canal, in coordination with Israel, deliberately concealing their plans from the Eisenhower administration. Washington responded by threatening to crash the British pound, forcing London and Paris into humiliating retreat.

The crisis is conventionally remembered as the moment Britain accepted that it was no longer an independent great power.

But its more important legacy was strategic. Suez exposed the depth of Europe’s dependence on the United States. That humiliation drove Charles de Gaulle’s pursuit of an independent French nuclear deterrent. It also accelerated European integration and planted the recognition that genuine strategic autonomy would be a generational project.

The Iran war inverts the conditions of that lesson. In 1956, Europeans learned that they could not act independently of Washington. In 2026, they are learning that they cannot rely on Washington’s consent being available, and that the U.S. will act without them, against their stated interests and at their economic expense.

Two men in suits and ties talk while seated in front of a table.
Secretary of State John Foster Dulles, left, and President Dwight Eisenhower discuss the nationalization of the Suez Canal by the Egyptian government in August 1956 at the White House. Abbie Rowe/PhotoQuest via Getty Images

The pattern is the same: Dependence on the U.S. is unsustainable, and autonomous capacity is no longer optional. What has changed is that Europe is now willing to use the financial, economic and military tools it has long possessed in ways it would not have considered before.

The EU’s €90 billion joint-debt loan to Ukraine signals an autonomous European strategic stance. So do discussions of activating the bloc’s anti-coercion trade instrument against U.S. tariffs, France’s nuclear arsenal expansion and offers to “Europeanize” deterrence.

The strategic postures were debated for decades. The Iran war is making them operational.

This is not yet European strategic independence. Europe remains militarily reliant on U.S. air defense, satellite capacity and intelligence.

The closure of the Strait of Hormuz, for example, has forced an uncomfortable energy reckoning with American liquefied natural gas, Russian pipelines, Middle Eastern hydrocarbons and Chinese-dominated renewable supply chains. None of the available paths to energy security run through trusted partners.

France and Germany still disagree on nearly every detail of how integration should proceed. But the political condition for autonomy, a shared European belief that Washington can no longer be trusted to share strategic decision-making, has crystallized in a way that no previous crisis produced.

The post-1945 trans-Atlantic bargain traded U.S. security guarantees for European deference on global strategy. Iraq 2003 strained that bargain. Trump’s first term cracked it, and the Iran war has broken it.

What replaces it will not be a renewed partnership. It will be a parallel relationship between two powers with sometimes overlapping interests and, increasingly, separate strategic horizons.

In 1956, Europe learned how dependent it was on Washington. In 2026, it is learning that dependence is no longer sustainable.

Eleni Lomtatidze, a student in the International Relations Program at the University of Pennsylvania and at SciencesPo Paris, contributed to this story.

The Conversation

Farah N. Jan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

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