The Myth of Abundance

Good education policy means making real choices, not pretending we can have everything

There’s been a lot of enthusiasm lately about applying an “abundance mindset” to public policy. The idea, made popular by Ezra Klein, is that we should reduce regulatory burdens and focus on expanding the things that people need. Build more housing. Train more doctors. Develop more clean energy.

It’s an appealing idea. But, when it comes to public education, it fails to help us negotiate trade offs or figure out which costs are worth it. The reality is that most school systems are working within very real limits: budgets, buildings, staffing, time. So when we try to add something new, it usually means something else has to give. Of course we want more of everything. But the problem is that we can’t actually do everything at once.

Here’s what that looks like up close.

When Bill de Blasio launched universal pre-K in New York City, it was a major win. My daughter went to pre-K at our zoned public school, and it was a fantastic experience. I couldn’t wait for my son to have access to the same thing, especially when the city expanded access to 3-K.

But, right around the same time, Governor Hochul signed legislation mandating reduced class sizes in New York City public schools. In theory, this is also a great idea. No one’s arguing against smaller class sizes. But those smaller classes require more classrooms and more teachers. And our school, like many others, doesn’t have extra space lying around. So to make room for smaller class sizes in the upper grades, our zoned school is likely eliminating 3-K and pre-K. Though my daughter got free early childhood education, my son might not.

To be clear: both early childhood education and reduced class sizes are policy wins. Both are grounded in research and good intentions. But together they don’t work, and one has to go.

This is the part of policymaking that abundance rhetoric tends to gloss over. Public education is a system with walls: physical ones, financial ones, scheduling ones. It’s full of competing priorities, all of which matter. And the idea that we can just add more of everything without having to give anything up isn’t optimism; it’s avoidance.

It also raises bigger questions. If trade-offs are inevitable, how do we decide what matters most? Should we prioritize smaller classes for older kids, or broader access for the youngest learners?¹ Should we invest in enrichment programs, or in mental health staff? Should we spread our resources thin, or go all-in on fewer things?

These aren’t easy calls, and we need to be thoughtful and deliberate in our choices.

I’m not against abundance. I just think we need to be honest about where the limits are. Because when every policy sounds like a win, it’s easy to forget that something is getting left behind.

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How have I not posted this one yet?

1. The evidence in favor of early childhood education is much more compelling than that in favor of reduced class sizes, so my vote is for the latter!