As the School Goes, So Goes the Neighborhood

You may not notice it right away, but an unsettling quiet settles over a neighborhood when children disappear. Playgrounds feel empty, fewer strollers pass by, and fewer parents shout “stop” at little ones scooting along the sidewalk. The local school begins to shrink,  changing who encounters whom daily, who comes to recognize neighborhood, and how often residents are reminded that they are part of a community.

The number of children in New York has been declining. About 19 percent fewer kids under five live in New York County now than did in 2020, reflecting broader demographic and economic shifts, especially the high cost of raising children in the city.

The scale of these developments is affecting local schools and surrounding neighborhoods. Last year, 112 of the city’s public schools enrolled fewer than 150 students, up from 80 just two years earlier. Overall enrollment is down by almost 90,000 students since 2020, and many schools now operate well below capacity.

I see the change in my neighborhood. P.S. 139 in Brooklyn, which enrolled over a thousand students a decade ago, last year had just 644. In addition, school choice has expanded, providing many families with access to higher-performing—but often overcrowded—schools outside their neighborhoods, in a system where over 40 percent of students don’t read or do math at grade level. 

People feel strongly about their zoned schools because schools anchor places, bringing together families who live near each other, regardless of background, and building strong communities. They create friendships, memories, and strong emotional attachment among kids as well as parents, which is why few things are as politically charged as consolidating or closing a school. 

But with fewer children, some school closures will become unavoidable. Preserving every building regardless of enrollment risks stretching resources too thin and leaves students in small schools that cannot match the opportunities offered by their larger counterparts.

Careful consolidation should focus not only on improving outcomes for children but also on repurposing or redeveloping buildings in ways that continue to serve local communities. We must avoid accelerating the neighborhood decline we are trying to prevent.

Urbanists have long emphasized the importance of “eyes on the street” and repeated, low-stakes encounters in building trust. The local school generates both, but its crucial role in neighborhood social structure is weakening. While the erosion is hard to capture in official data, think of a school closure as the neighborhood equivalent of a small town’s only factory shutting down—a wrenching event with economic, social, and political consequences. 

A city with fewer neighborhood-centered schools feels different from one where most children attend school close to home. As parents seek higher-quality instruction, they cluster around certain schools, making some neighborhoods more robust and better-connected than others. As children disperse, new communities and networks are built, but these ties are less rooted in a particular place and the everyday familiarities of a traditional neighborhood.  

Parents are uniquely sensitive to quality of life in the city. Prioritizing their children’s safety and well-being, they form and depend on strong neighborhood networks. They are often the first to notice problems or dangers and push for safer neighborhoods, cleaner streets, stronger schools, and better playgrounds. In many ways, they serve as the proverbial canary in the coal mine.

As families disappear, however, fewer deeply invested residents remain to watch over the community and take action to improve it. When zoned schools fail to attract parents and consolidation becomes unavoidable, we should work to preserve neighborhood life. The communal space should be repurposed or redeveloped as affordable housing with amenities that the neighborhood may lack. Doing so may even give the neighborhood a new heart.