Our schools, like so many parts of our infrastructure, are

Hear now the words of Jamaal Bowman, a teacher turned lawmaker, who speaks not with the cold tongue of policy but with the fiery heart of one who has walked the halls of learning: “Our schools, like so many parts of our infrastructure, are crumbling across the country. Healing our schools can and should be central to our fight to achieve environmental, racial and economic justice.” These words are not idle complaint—they are lamentation, a cry for renewal, and a vision of how the broken places of society may be mended to heal the whole.

When Bowman says our schools are crumbling, he does not speak only of cracked walls, leaking ceilings, and ancient boilers. He speaks of the deeper ruin—the neglect of children, the starving of young minds, the disregard for teachers who labor with too little support. A crumbling school is not just a building in decay, but a symbol of a society that has placed its treasures elsewhere, forgetting that the greatest wealth of any nation is the education of its youth.

He binds the healing of schools to environmental, racial, and economic justice, for these struggles are not separate streams but one great river. Poor and marginalized communities too often inherit schools with failing ventilation, toxic lead pipes, and playgrounds shrouded in smog. To heal the schools is not only to provide safe learning but also to repair wounds of injustice passed from one generation to the next. In classrooms of equity, where clean air fills the lungs and strong teachers inspire, the chains of poverty and discrimination begin to loosen.

Consider the story of Brown v. Board of Education in 1954. The Supreme Court declared that segregated schools, separate and unequal, violated the Constitution. Yet the decision was not only about the desks and books; it was about the very soul of the nation. The crumbling schools of Black children, starved of resources, revealed how deeply racial injustice was rooted in the land. The struggle to integrate and uplift those schools was nothing less than a struggle for the future of America itself. Bowman’s words echo this truth—that healing schools is a pathway to justice far beyond the classroom.

The meaning also extends to economic justice. A society that allows children to learn in broken buildings consigns them to broken opportunities. Where the wealthy enjoy bright laboratories and new libraries, the poor too often endure shortages and decay. This division, carved into the walls of schools, hardens into the fabric of the economy. To heal the schools is to build a bridge—to give every child, no matter their zip code, a chance to rise and contribute their gifts to the common good.

There is also a call to environmental justice. Schools are the daily home of millions of children, yet many are plagued by asbestos, mold, or polluted air. What lesson is taught when the very walls that house education poison the young? To rebuild them with clean energy, sustainable design, and safe materials is to teach a lesson louder than any textbook: that care for the earth is care for ourselves, and that wisdom is not only learned but lived.

The lesson, then, is clear: healing our schools is healing our nation. A people cannot hope to achieve justice while the very places where children grow are neglected. To honor the future, we must invest in the present. To lift the oppressed, we must rebuild the foundations. Schools are not side issues; they are the heart of the struggle for equality, dignity, and renewal.

Children of tomorrow, let these words stir you: support the teachers who guide you, speak for the rebuilding of schools in your communities, and labor for leaders who see education not as expense but as sacred duty. In your daily lives, value learning, fight neglect with action, and remember that justice begins where children are nurtured. For in the strength of their classrooms lies the strength of the republic, and in the healing of their schools lies the healing of the world.