Who Decides for Dobie? Disruption, Equity, and the Fight for Community Voice
✨ "We’ll Be Dobie Always and Forever" ✨ No matter what happens to Dobie, staff and students are committed to enjoying their last few weeks and honoring their time together.
The views and opinions expressed in this piece are solely my own and do not represent the views, policies, or positions of Austin ISD or any affiliated organizations.
Between the expansion of voucher schemes in Texas and the erosion of the Department of Education at the federal level, this is a historically significant moment in the fight for public education. Here in Austin, the future of Dobie Middle School hangs in the balance—and with it, our collective responsibility to center marginalized communities in the decisions that shape their education.
Austin ISD has presented two preferred options for Dobie: a district-led Restart with a Texas Senate Bill 1882 contingency, or a partnership with an external charter organization under the same law. But this so-called choice isn’t just about the outcome—it’s about how Austin ISD will honor the dignity, intelligence, and needs of Dobie and East Austin schools like it.
So far, the process has felt like a continuation of top-down decisions that prioritize optics over equity. Let’s hope there is a strategic long-term plan coming soon.
Much of what has been said publicly about Dobie tells only part of the story. Without understanding the why behind community advocacy, we risk proposing solutions that don’t align with the deeper reality. Even well-intentioned efforts can harm when not informed by lived experience. When we fail to amplify the voices of those most impacted, we silence an already historically disenfranchised community.
As a longtime educator on the East Side and current instructional coach at Dobie, I’ve witnessed our school begin to rebuild—academically, yes, but more importantly, relationally. Trust has taken root among staff, students, and families: those who stayed, those who returned, and those who chose Dobie anew. Progress has been slow, sometimes fragile, but always real. A Restart doesn’t just reset a school; it risks erasing the hard-won gains of community connection and student belonging.
It’s like ending a two-year relationship and being asked to start over with, “What’s your favorite color?” when we had just arrived at the deeper questions:
Can I trust you? Do you care about me? How will you help me grow?
This isn’t work that can be dismissed or bypassed. And truthfully, we’ve already lost families and staff. The damage has been done, and its impact cannot be ignored. The question now is: how do we move forward with integrity?
To force that process without transparent information, inclusive planning, and a respectful timeline sure feels like another example of institutional harm.
Dobie families have consistently and vocally opposed a charter partnership. They understand what research confirms: academic improvement is most sustainable when rooted in stability, supportive relationships, and community trust. According to the Learning Policy Institute, “lasting school improvement depends on enabling conditions—including strong community engagement and trust-building—not just technical fixes.” And as parents have reminded the larger community, we already have five charter schools in the neighborhood. Which begs the question: why can’t we pour our public funds into our East Side public schools instead of charter competitors? And why does the state of Texas highly incentivize these partnerships instead of investing in our struggling neighborhood schools? I have a feeling the answer has something to do with money and not disrupting the status quo of prioritizing privilege over equitable education.
So what is a Texas SB 1882 partnership, and why is it controversial?
Under SB 1882, school districts may contract with external entities—nonprofits, charter operators, or higher education institutions—to manage low-performing campuses. In exchange, the district receives a two-year pause on accountability sanctions and additional per-pupil funding (approximately $700 more per student²). But the tradeoff is steep: operational control shifts to the partner, including decisions about staffing, budgeting, and curriculum.
Though these partners must be nonprofits, many operate with charter-style efficiency models—subcontracting services, centralizing authority, and diverting funds toward administrative overhead. They are not held to the same federal and state standards as public districts. A 2022 report from the National Education Policy Center found that charter-managed schools are significantly more likely to under-serve students with disabilities and emergent bilinguals.³
Charter schools often promise better state accountability outcomes, but at what cost? Behind the marketing, the data tells a different story. According to the Texas Education Agency’s 2023 Charter School Performance Framework, charter schools serve:
3% fewer students with disabilities
4.7% fewer emergent bilingual students
8% fewer economically disadvantaged students⁴
Some do not offer dual-language instruction or adhere to IDEA (Individuals with Disabilities Education Act) protections. That’s exclusion.
Take Mendez in Austin ISD, now managed by charter partner Third Future Schools: the campus serves fewer than 250 students, down from over 500 pre-partnership.⁵ That limits access to electives, arts, athletics, and student support services—or removes them entirely to prioritize test-based instruction. (When a group of Lamar parents took it upon themselves to tour Mendez on behalf of Dobie families, I wonder if they saw the stationary bikes in the library that replaced athletics. I’ll let that speak for itself.) Meanwhile, because many 1882 partners aren’t traditional public schools, some are exempt from public reporting requirements such as TAPR (Texas Academic Performance Report) data.⁶ That’s a problem.
Listening carefully to the recent presentation at the Board meeting, it seems like the SB 1882 model with Third Future (TF) prioritizes compliance over collaboration. At places like Mendez’s charter partnership, TF leaders share how students are rewarded based on extrinsic motivators. That’s not how you build agency. That’s how you train obedience.
Dobie families know what they’re asking for: a well-resourced, inclusive public school—not a charter system with fewer protections and less voice. They want public dollars to stay in public schools, serving all students. They want a good neighborhood school with teachers and administrators they trust. As Dobie’s PTA President shared at the Lamar Community Meeting, “Our community doesn’t want a charter school because we’re going to lose everybody – all the teachers, all the staff will have to go”.
It’s not a radical ask. But if this situation teaches us anything, it’s that AISD must change—not only because it’s the right thing to do, but because otherwise we risk a TEA takeover (just look at that A/F map floating around). If we do not act differently, we’re setting a devastating and alarming precedent—losing most of our “failing” East Side schools and relinquishing control to charter operators.
AISD initially proposed a temporary closure and reassignment plan that preserved relationships while offering a full reset. But this option was quietly removed after vocal opposition from a small group of white, more affluent families outside the Dobie community. Several Lamar Middle School parents objected to temporarily housing Dobie students, citing “safety” and “overcrowding.”
These are familiar narratives. Historically, similar language has been used to resist integration, as documented in desegregation studies and the ongoing work of the Civil Rights Project at UCLA.⁷
What unfolded between the Dobie and Lamar communities is a textbook example of how equity can be effectively weaponized. When one school’s “safety” or overcrowding concerns are addressed by stripping options from another—particularly a historically marginalized one—we’re not solving problems equitably. We’re redistributing harm. Comfort and protection are preserved for those used to being prioritized, while disruption and instability fall, yet again, on communities that have long borne the cost of systemic neglect.
The district’s decision to eliminate this community-informed proposal fractured already fragile trust. There was no full explanation of its logistical challenges until after the fact. This raises a troubling question: does the difference lie in who it affects?
Dobie serves a student population that is 97% Black and Brown, with 93% classified as economically disadvantaged.⁸ Lamar, by contrast, serves a whiter, wealthier demographic. If AISD is truly committed to “disrupting” inequitable systems, the discomfort must be shared—not concentrated on the East Side.
This is what systemic inequity looks like:
Being spoken for instead of with
Watching plans shift based on privilege, not principle
Watching the East Side carry the burden of so-called shared sacrifice
Hearing talk of “safety” without addressing how choice programs have destabilized and segregated our schools
Equity requires us to look at root causes: chronic underfunding, imbalanced enrollment, broken feeder patterns, and policy decisions that reinforce inequity. If AISD is the district we hope it can be, then every community, not just those with power and access, must be part of the solution-making process, even when those solutions require sacrifice.
When we talk about magnet programs, fine arts academies, and Montessori options, we must ask:
Who benefits most?
Do these programs reflect our equity commitments?
Are they transparently accessed and equitably funded?
At what cost are we attempting to boost enrollment numbers, and how much do these programs inadvertently draw from the district’s limited resources—often at the expense of neighborhood schools?
To bring it back to the now two “choices”: no matter which option is selected, Dobie will be starting over—from Year Two back to Year Zero. Over the last five years, repeated resets caused by leadership turnover, staffing instability, and systemic shifts have taken a steep toll. These losses aren’t just operational; they’re emotional.
As a coach, this reflects what I hear from staff: most aren’t leaving because they don’t believe in Dobie—they’re leaving because they feel the weight of systemic barriers and don’t trust that the system will allow them to stay and do their work. Worse, they fear staying only to face the same disruption again.
This isn’t about blame. It’s about visibility. These are the invisible barriers too often overlooked by those outside our community.
Dobie doesn’t just need to be “saved.” It needs to be seen, supported, and validated. We need a fully resourced, community-rooted school on the East Side. And more importantly in this moment, we need leadership willing to speak honestly about race, power, and privilege.
Equity work demands discomfort—especially from those who have long lived in comfort.
As Franklin Leonard wisely said, “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equity feels like oppression.” That dynamic is playing out in real time.
Whatever the board decides, the long-term work does not begin or end with a vote. The Dobie community is committed to healing, and we will persist. We will organize. We will advocate. And we will remember who stood with us.
Dobie may still have a chance to pursue a district-led Restart with reassignment as a backup, depending on the 2024–25 STAAR results—yes, the test we took a few days after we learned our school was at risk of closure. But that path only has integrity if it honors the original promise: a vision shaped by the community, protection from charter takeovers, and a backup plan that reflects district values.
The hard truth is we may have lost this immediate battle. But the greater fight for just, community-rooted public education is far from over. The Dobie community will continue to heal, to organize, and to lead. And we invite all who believe in equity to stand with us in the work ahead:
To reimagine zoning policies to stop segregating our schools
To redesign feeder patterns to promote integration and access
To rethink attendance boundaries to reflect demographic equity
To demand funding models that truly serve all students
That could mean redrawing school zones to balance socioeconomic and racial diversity across campuses, rather than isolating poverty in one and privilege in another. For example, if two adjacent schools serve dramatically different demographics, a revised boundary could ensure both campuses reflect the full diversity of the community. Some districts even use “controlled choice” models to promote integration while honoring family preference. The goal is not to uproot, but to rebalance.
Equity is not a moment. It’s a movement. Let’s move forward together.
Solidarity begins with listening. Transformation begins with trust. Let’s build from there.
Sources: Darling-Hammond, L. (2017). Restarting and Sustaining School Improvement: Lessons from Research. Learning Policy Institute. Texas Education Agency (TEA). (2023). SB 1882 Partnerships Guidance Manual. National Education Policy Center (2022). Charter Schools and Students with Disabilities: Access, Equity, and Accountability. TEA. (2023). Charter School Performance Framework Summary. AISD Enrollment Data Dashboard (2024). Texas Academic Performance Reports (TAPR), TEA, 2023. Civil Rights Project, UCLA (2021). Still Segregated: How Race, Class, and Policy Shape American Schools. Austin ISD School Profile: Dobie Middle School (2024). Tuma, L. (2025, April 25). AISD considers moving hundreds of students from Dobie to Lamar. The Austin Chronicle.
