By Leyton Martin

It has frequently been remarked, in tones both weary and wise, that “you can’t get there from here.” In the present condition of Vermont’s educational system, this maxim bears a sobering truth. For what was once a proud and local endeavor to cultivate the minds of our youth has become a labyrinth of policy, regulation, and bureaucratic entanglement—so dense and disjointed that even the most earnest reformers find themselves ensnared.

The recent failure of the state’s redistricting task force to produce even three viable maps for legislative consideration is not merely a procedural misstep; it is emblematic of a deeper disorder. When those entrusted with governance cannot fulfill the basic charge of representation, it becomes incumbent upon the people to reexamine the architecture of the system itself. For if we are to entrust our children’s future to a structure so frail, we must ask: is it not our duty to repair its foundation?

Let us then proceed with candor and resolve.

First, we must acknowledge that the cost of compliance with the manifold directives of federal, state, and local authorities has become unsustainable. The proliferation of mandates—on facilities, salaries, special education, safety, assessments, and their punitive consequences—has not yielded a commensurate rise in educational value, virtue or civic character. Indeed, it may be said that the very institutions designed to elevate our youth have, through excess and abstraction, contributed to their decline, as marked by lower or unremarkable aptitude tests.

It is therefore proposed that we dismantle the educational governance that has grown remote from the people it purports to serve. The Vermont Agency of Education, like its federal counterpart, has become a monument to misdirection. Its dissolution, and the repeal of burdensome statutes and policies, would restore to local communities the liberty to educate according to their own wisdom, means, and moral compass.

Second, with respect to funding, two paths lie before us. One is the path of unbridled market forces, wherein state funds are disbursed without constraint and schools rise or fall by the invisible hand. The other is a more measured course: to allocate public monies directly to students, thereby empowering families to seek instruction where it best suits their needs, whether in public, private, or cooperative institutions.

But in the course of public opinion, it may be prudent to establish regional centers of excellence—for technical training, special education, and gifted instruction—supported by a robust transportation system. Such a model would preserve equity while respecting local autonomy and fiscal prudence.

Let us not be deceived by the siren call of universal provision. To attempt to save all from all things is to save none from anything. The pursuit of social justice, when untethered from liberty and responsibility, risks becoming a tyranny of good intentions. As James Madison once wrote, “Justice is the end of government. It is the end of civil society. It ever has been and ever will be pursued until it be obtained, or until liberty be lost in the pursuit.” But justice, to be just, must be rooted in freedom, not compulsion.

In conclusion, the crisis before us is not merely one of policy, but of principle. If we are to reclaim the promise of education in Vermont, we must do so not by layering new mandates upon old, but by returning to first principles: local control, parental engagement, and the cultivation of virtue through liberty. Only then may we find our way—not by the old road, but by a new one, cleared of obstruction and guided by reason. And at the end of that road, we may yet find the Liberty Tree—standing firm, tapped each spring in our own sugar bush.