Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer, D-N.Y., and fellow Democrats, from left, Sen. Bernie Sanders, I-Vt., Sen. Gary Peters, D-Mich., and Sen. Patty Murray, D-Wash., criticize President Donald Trump for his plan to shut down the Education Department, during a news conference at the Capitol, in Washington, Thursday, March 6, 2025. (AP Photo/J. Scott Applewhite)
News broke Thursday morning that President Trump was planning to sign an executive order instructing newly appointed Education Secretary Linda McMahon to begin dismantling the Department of Education. White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt quickly wrote on X that such an order would not be signed on Thursday, though it’s perhaps telling that she did not refute the idea that such an order could come soon.
As of this morning, that order has still not been signed, though the situation could change quickly. And while the timing is still uncertain, Trump seemed to indicate that it won’t be long: “I want to just do it . . . I mean, we’re starting the process. We’re trying to get the schools back into the states.”
But why is dismantling the department such a high priority for the President? And what would it look like if he was able to succeed in doing so?
Before we can answer those questions, we first need to understand a bit more about what the Department of Education actually does.
What does the Department of Education do?
Congress created the Department of Education in 1979 to consolidate the various education programs that had previously been spread among different agencies. Ronald Reagan campaigned on dismantling it the following year, and seeing the department dissolved back into its disparate elements has been a goal for many Republicans ever since.
But while the department is responsible for a variety of education-related services, it doesn’t have nearly as much of an impact on high school and below as you might think. The states still set the curriculum and local school boards have far more influence over what is taught and how schools are run than the federal government.
Moreover, the states pay for roughly 90 percent of public education, with the remainder coming from the federal level. Still, that 10 percent is often enough for the federal government to wield a good bit of influence over what is taught, as evidenced by both the push for LGBTQ rights under Biden and warnings against the “indoctrination” of children under Trump.
The bulk of the Department’s energy and resources, however, is aimed at programs intended to support low-income children or those with disabilities, as well as grants and student loans for those continuing their education beyond high school. Were Trump to be successful, those responsibilities would return to other areas within the government.
Given that completely dissolving the Department of Education would require sixty votes in the Senate—Republicans currently have a 53-seat majority—it’s unlikely that the President will be able to accomplish his goal. And McMahon acknowledged as much in her confirmation hearings. Instead, the most likely outcome is that anything that can be jettisoned or reassigned will be, with the remainder forming a shell of what the department is today.
Would such a shift solve the problem? More than 60 percent of Americans seem dubious, though the latest polling also shows that both confidence in public schools and satisfaction with the quality of education they provide are not trending in the right direction.
Change of some sort is clearly needed, and it’s not hard to see why.
When trust is lost
In a recent article for Law & Liberty, Frederick M. Hess analyzed the loss of trust that many parents still harbor against the public education system in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. Early on, when so much was still unknown about the virus, closing schools seemed like a necessary and correct precaution. As Hess points out, though, “By summer 2020, it was increasingly clear that kids weren’t at risk and weren’t major sources of spread.”
At that point, it made sense for schools to open back up to in-person learning, and many did while taking precautions like requiring masks, social distancing, and other steps that were—at that time—considered helpful to prevent the spread of the virus.
However, many not only remained closed but were heavily critical of any suggestions they should do otherwise. Their resolute rejection of calls to return to the classroom, coupled with clear evidence that the closures were “having devastating effects on youth learning, well-being, and mental health,” eroded much of the confidence parents used to have in the institutions entrusted with their children.
The fact that teachers were not considered “essential workers” in the same vein as doctors, sanitation workers, and grocery store clerks further inclined many to question the significance of their role.
To be clear, that assessment is not accurate for most teachers, who are routinely underpaid while devoting long hours and their last shreds of sanity to foster an environment in which children can learn and grow. And it seems like most parents still trust the individual teachers responsible for instructing their kids.
However, public trust in the teachers’ unions and the larger apparatus that enabled so many Covid-era policies to endure beyond the point of necessity in many parts of the country has not returned. And there’s an important lesson in that reality for each of us today.
The first step to rebuilding trust
For the most part, people understand that we’re not perfect. All of us make mistakes, and what matters most is what we do after. Will we try to explain away our errors, or even double down on the notion that we’ve been right all along? Or will we own up to them, ask forgiveness, and try to make things right going forward?
Having the humility to admit when we’re wrong is the first step toward rebuilding trust, and that’s just as true for you and me as it is for presidents, union leaders, and everyone in between.
Fortunately, today is likely to bring each of us the chance to practice such humility in the face of our mistakes. The question then becomes, how quickly will you take advantage of that opportunity? Will you respond in arrogance and defiance or humbly admit your mistake and ask for forgiveness?
Which path you choose is likely to have a profound impact on the degree to which others feel like they can trust you in the future. And, considering the impact of our witness is based largely on the degree to which people find us trustworthy, learning to face our mistakes well should be among our highest priorities.
I don’t know what will ultimately happen to the Department of Education, but I suspect its fate would be different—or at least the path to its dismantling more difficult to tread—if public trust in its institutions and those in charge of them were higher. And while their response to the pandemic was not the only reason why that trust has waned, it certainly had a role to play for many parents and citizens.
Will the same be true in your life? Will you move forward as if your sins and mistakes never happened, or will you own them and ask for forgiveness?
Only one of those answers can position you to experience the fullness of God’s loving mercy and help others to do the same.
Which will you choose today?
Quote of the day:
“Nothing sets a person so much out of the devil’s reach as humility.” —Jonathan Edwards
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