How school choice could help create the next generation of Atlantic entrepreneurs

When Barb Stegemann became dissatisfied with the quality of education her child was receiving in Grade 1, she did what she had to do—she started packing. Within three weeks, she had sold her house outside Vancouver, moved to a new area, and enrolled her child in the school of her choice. After hearing Stegemann’s story, the principal of that school cautioned, “You can’t pack up and move every time you’re not happy with the teacher.” Stegemann responded, “Just watch me.”

An author and motivational speaker now based in Bedford, N.S., Stegemann has made it her mission to encourage people to shape their own destiny. Parents, she says, need to take charge of their children’s education. “You are your child’s first teacher. If you’re not satisfied, do everything in your power to get your child the right education.”

In theory, any family can do what Stegemann did and move to its preferred school zone. Or, parents can choose from a growing range of independent schools. In reality, though, few families can tolerate the upheaval and expense of frequent moves, or spare thousands of dollars per child each year for annual tuition fees.

For Atlantic Canadians, educational choice comes with a discouragingly high price tag. Elsewhere in Canada and other countries, people are experimenting with creative ways to pull down the barriers to choice and give parents more decision-making authority. “School choice” has become a banner slogan uniting parents and educators who want to make schooling more diverse and innovative.

Advocates of school choice make bold claims. They say that the laws of economics and the basic principles of human liberty are on their side. And, they point to compelling stories—some within Canada—to show how unlocking education can move innovation and entrepreneurship from the periphery of education to the centre.

Reframing education in economic terms
In his book The School Choice Wars, American economist John Merrifield explores various means of cracking the government’s near-monopoly on education. One such way is through charter schools, independent public schools that negotiate a special agreement, or “charter,” with the government so they can teach the standard curriculum in an innovative way. For example, the Calgary Science School’s mandate is to weave math, science, and technology throughout its curriculum, emphasizing principles of scientific inquiry. So far, Alberta is the only Canadian province to permit charter schools.

Another way to promote choice is to erase the catchment lines for public schools so children can attend any school in the district. Edmonton has led the way with this “open boundaries” concept, and British Columbia is now following suit. Provincial governments can also encourage educational diversity by providing funding to independent schools, as they do selectively in B.C., Alberta, Manitoba, Saskatchewan, and Quebec.

More radical proponents of choice advocate for tuition vouchers, rebates, or tax credits. Such programs broaden the options for parents who would prefer to send their children to independent schools. In Milwaukee, for instance, children from low-income families can apply for a voucher to attend one of the city’s many private schools. In Atlantic Canada, Nova Scotians can take advantage of a limited tuition-rebate program for children with learning disabilities.

So-called “funded school choice” initiatives more closely approach the entrepreneurial model of education that Merrifield describes as his ideal. If he had his way, we’d see a wide-open educational market with schools competing as intensely for students as Coca-Cola and Pepsi vie for consumers. To economists, says Merrifield, “education is just another industry,” and the way to improve the quality of the product is to enable greater competition.

But yoking together “education” and “industry” in the same sentence causes some policy-makers to shudder. They warn that school choice will create unequal opportunities for rich and poor students, erode the quality of instruction, and result in administrative chaos. Even the much-praised Edmonton public system isn’t immune to charges of inequality, as parents must pay for special program fees as well as transportation. As for charter schools, critics accuse them of catering to special-interest groups at taxpayers’ expense.

Those who are wary of school choice tend to view education primarily as a moral or ethical undertaking, and they’re suspicious of those who take an economic perspective. Calvin Fraser, the secretary general of the Canadian Teachers’ Federation, explains why his organization vigorously opposes the open-market concept of education, which he views as being based on flawed premises: “It assumes that everyone has the same information, opportunities and constraints to make the best choices for our children’s education. Increased choice and access to resources (financial or otherwise) go hand in hand. If market forces improve the quality of education, they do so only for a select few at the expense of the vast majority.”

While Merrifield appreciates the moral and ethical complexity of educational debates, he insists that education primarily is an economic activity involving the production, distribution, and consumption of a vital service. Whatever noble ideas we hold about that activity, as a society we need to figure out how to use resources effectively to provide a high-quality output and make it widely available.

“I don’t have any objection to seeing things from all different perspectives,” says Merrifield. “But you have to understand that there are limited resources. There are things like comparative advantages and disadvantages, which are just basic economic concepts. And they’re at work in education like they are anywhere else. If you ignore them, you get the education system we have.”

Merrifield’s “we” includes Canada. In his former role as a senior fellow with the Fraser Institute, he co-published a 2006 study entitled Why Canadian Education Isn’t Improving; it paints a picture of government-run schools that contradicts the idealistic rhetoric of public system loyalists. It argues that “political control” of education seldom achieves the lofty goals of universal empowerment. Instead, it leads to a “compliance-driven” education system that’s lackadaisical about performance and resistant to change.

Transforming principals into entrepreneurs
In most public school systems, principals are like middle managers in a hierarchical organization; they may sit in a corner office but they command little authority. In Edmonton, on the other hand, principals act like franchise owners. They control most of the school budget, which is assigned to them based on the number of students they enroll. If they want to keep their franchise open, they must play a competitive game. Edmonton principals have become what American educators Charles Lavaroni and Donald Leisey call “edupreneurs.” Working within the government system, they must define their competitive advantage, create a strategic plan, deliver a high-quality service, and build client loyalty.

An Edmonton school attracts students by developing a unique profile. For instance, a school may specialize in academic enrichment, fine arts, sports, or the ability to meet special needs. To encourage differentiation, the Edmonton school board has eliminated catchments, a designation to a school based on the area in which you live. With “open boundaries,” parents can send their children to any school in the city without needing special permission.

As any businessperson would predict, the competitive environment produces higher-quality results. Consistently, Alberta leads the country in standardized test scores, and educators from around the world visit the province to witness the Edmonton system in action. As noted previously, Alberta is the only province with charter schools. It also provides accredited independent schools with 60% to 70% of the per-student funding it gives public schools.

Widening the playing field even further
While the Edmonton model represents radical innovation within the government system, Merrifield envisions education leaders going even further. He imagines them behaving as full-fledged entrepreneurs in a completely open educational market. In Merrifield’s ideal world, schools would be smaller than today’s government schools, and they would niche themselves in the market in creative ways. They might distinguish themselves by their pedagogy or cater to the needs of a particular student group. For example, a school might target high-achieving students and make enrichment its value-add, as does Lakecrest St. John’s Independent School in Newfoundland and Labrador. Or a school could tailor its curriculum and environment to students with attention difficulties, following in the footsteps of Churchill Academy in Dartmouth.

If Merrifield’s right, opening the educational industry would foster healthy competition that would raise quality standards throughout the market. At the same time, it would also promote two key competencies for the 21st century: inventiveness and interpersonal skills.

Rather than teaching creative thinking as an academic goal, schools would embody creativity in their curriculum, buildings, organizational charts, hiring practices, and teaching methods. Rather than treating social skills as an outcome of group project work, small schools would develop a strong community culture to support positive relationships among teachers, students, and parents.

Unleashing the freedom to create
In a deregulated educational industry, more institutions like the Shambhala School in Halifax would likely flourish. Shambhala offers a nonsectarian curriculum to a diverse population of students from pre-Primary to Grade 12. Because it operates independently, the school can meet the provincial teaching outcomes on its own creative terms.

Music, painting, drama, dance, and handwork thread throughout each day for elementary students, so they absorb concepts in multiple ways. This artistic emphasis cultivates at a young age valuable right-brain capabilities—such as storytelling, visualization, and playful thinking—that companies now pay trainers top dollar to develop in their employees.

Besides developing their creative faculties, Shambhala students develop a strong sense of community responsibility. Small classes enable teachers to strengthen social skills without making them an item on a lesson plan. In the elementary school, children eat lunch together with the teacher at a long table, as if they were at a family meal. Should a conflict arise, teachers and students sit in a circle to discuss the problem and find a solution.

School director Steve Mustain says it’s an “intimate and close-knit feeling of community and belonging” that gives Shambhala advantages over government-run schools. Shambhala staff can focus their energy not on complying with policies but rather on building a strong school culture to nurture their students.

Unlocking the power of community spirit
In a deregulated education industry, we would also likely hear more grassroots success stories like the one Phil Giles has to tell. A business instructor and former entrepreneur, Giles has been teaching for more than 30 years. His career has spanned Newfoundland, Ontario, Alberta, and the entire gamut of the curriculum, from kindergarten gym classes to high school business courses.

Of all the places in which Giles has taught, he found the atmosphere most conducive to academic success at a small school in northwestern Ontario formed by a group of homeschoolers. Through an unusual bargain, the homeschoolers acquired an empty school building, which they agreed to heat and maintain if the public school board would provide teachers, curriculum, and supplies.

Within this creative arrangement, the homeschoolers have been able, like the Shambhala school, to foster a distinct school culture. In their case, that meant daily prayer, weekly worship, and freedom for teachers to air Christian perspectives. Thanks to the school’s community bonds, Giles enjoyed excellent relationships with students and parents. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a group of students that was more co-operative and eager to learn,” he says. The positive environment translated into demonstrable academic achievement: in the annual Ontario student-business-plan competition, Giles’s students ranked in the top five for five years in a row.

Nurturing an entrepreneurial character
A group of entrepreneurial parents organizes a school, and that school becomes a provincial leader in entrepreneurship education. We don’t need a detailed causal analysis to see how that connection works. If Merrifield and his fellow school choice advocates carry the day, then a competitive educational industry will generate many more distinctive community-based schools that develop curious, energetic, young people.

Karen Donnelly, a project manager with the Centre for Women in Business at Mount Saint Vincent University, has chosen to place her son in an environment she believes helps children develop “confident, independent personalities.” To find such a place, she went outside the government system to Sacred Heart School in downtown Halifax, where classes are much smaller than in her neighbourhood school and parents are welcomed into the classroom.

For Donnelly, education should nurture an entrepreneurial character, no matter what career path students choose. “I hope the learning environment not only teaches them their academics,” she says, “but also teaches them to be confident people, believe in themselves, and to be able to make the correct career choice.” Advocates of school choice would urge Atlantic policy-makers to follow suit—to create a more open educational market in which innovation and entrepreneurism would form the backbone of education and, by extension, the spine of our regional economy.

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