In Amarillo, a storm has been brewing — and not just the kind that cuts the power during a school board meeting. Over the past few months, the Amarillo Independent School District (AISD) has faced a wave of community frustration, most notably from Pleasant Valley residents, after the district voted to close three elementary schools at the end of the 2024-25 school year: Pleasant Valley Elementary, Park Hill Elementary, and Sunrise Elementary.
The stated reason? Declining enrollment — defined by AISD as fewer than 250 students per campus — and the need to consolidate resources. But if you look closer, the decision feels less like a fiscal necessity and more like a short-sighted move that undervalues community stability, educational quality, and long-term planning.
The Closures in Context
According to the district, the closures were intended to save money and streamline operations. The three schools will be consolidated into nearby campuses. But not all "nearby" campuses are truly nearby — in some cases, families will now face drives of several miles, rather than the convenience of a safe, walkable neighborhood school.
Of the three closures, Pleasant Valley Elementary’s loss has drawn the loudest protests. And there’s a clear reason: Pleasant Valley wasn’t failing. In fact, it had an “A” academic rating in both 2022 and 2024. It had a dedicated base of teachers, parents, and community members. It was a cornerstone institution in the northern part of Amarillo.
When a school is performing well, has generational ties, and still gets shut down, residents can’t help but feel the decision was driven by something other than pure educational benefit.
The Community Speaks Out
The public comment portion of AISD’s August board meeting was dominated by Pleasant Valley voices — more than 50 residents showed up, many wearing matching T-shirts that proudly declared the school’s academic successes. They weren’t just angry; they were prepared, with ideas, statistics, and decades of lived experience.
“Not just a building” — The role of neighborhood schools
Hope McCoy, speaking for many, emphasized that Pleasant Valley Elementary is more than four walls and a roof:
“The school plays a vital role in the heart of the neighborhood, which is why we are fighting and coming together to save our community. For us, this school is not just a building where lessons happen. It’s where our children take their first steps towards learning, where parents meet each other for the first time and where generations ... have shared in traditions like school plays, fairs and holiday programs.”
McCoy’s point gets at something school boards often underestimate — a school’s role in social infrastructure. When children can safely walk to school, when parents see teachers regularly, and when the same families interact year after year, bonds form. Those bonds improve attendance, increase trust, and ultimately boost student outcomes. Remove that anchor, and families drift away, both physically and emotionally.
McCoy didn’t just argue sentiment; she offered solutions. She suggested increasing enrollment by adding a bilingual program, creating a sixth-grade class, or redrawing district boundaries. These are proactive ideas that address the stated problem — low enrollment — without destroying the community’s educational heart.
Generational investment ignored
Former teacher Mary Herring added historical weight to the discussion:
“Our family has been here for six generations. The $39 million you got from somewhere would have gone a long way to keep all these schools on the north open. Now parents have to drive six miles to Woodland Elementary.”
Herring also pointed out something many teachers know but budget spreadsheets don’t capture: smaller classes often mean better learning. She recalled a first-grade teacher with 22 students, many of whom still struggled to read by year’s end. Closing schools and packing students into larger classrooms might look efficient on paper, but it risks lowering the quality of education.
The legal and equity concerns
Former City Councilman Tom Scherlen didn’t mince words:
“You took the easy way out, not what was right. That act is prohibited by the 1965 Civil Rights Bill, and we’ll do what we have to do. We have got to make common sense.”
Similarly, Mike Fisher questioned whether the closures disproportionately impacted minority students:
“Of the three schools closed, two had mostly minority students, which violated the Voting Acts Right.”
Whether or not these claims hold up in court, the optics are troubling. In an era when public institutions are being scrutinized for equity, targeting two majority-minority schools for closure sends the wrong message — especially when the district claims to have “found” $40 million shortly after making the decision.
The $40 million elephant in the room
Over and over, community members returned to one question: if AISD suddenly discovered $40 million, why wasn’t it used to keep the schools open?
Fisher made it plain:
“They were closed to save $3 million, but the $40 million the district found could have been used to keep them open. Instead, we’re spending money on a ‘bus barn,’ and there is no dollar amount mentioned.”
Here lies the crux of the frustration — a perceived mismatch between priorities. To taxpayers, it looks like the district is cutting schools to save a relatively small amount, only to turn around and commit to large-scale facility projects.
The Bus Barn Debate
During the same meeting where parents pleaded for their neighborhood schools, AISD’s Chief Operations Officer, Kirk Self, presented plans for a new transportation site to store and maintain buses. The current site, off Jefferson on Amarillo Boulevard, needs repairs, and the proposal is to relocate to unused space at AACAL, part of AmTech.
The proposal wasn’t yet for spending money, but for hiring Sims + Architects to design the renovation — including new bay doors and expanded parking.
The optics here are clear: On the same night people begged for the survival of high-performing schools, the board advanced a plan that, in the public’s eyes, looked like prioritizing vehicles over children.
Dissent Within the Board
Not every trustee was on board with the transportation project. Tom Warren, an AISD trustee, refused to vote for it:
“It’s all about optics. We’re telling communities that we’re going to have to do without some schools, and as important as this is, I don’t see how I can vote for it. We came up with additional money, and we start to look like we’re not responsible.”
Warren went further, asking taxpayers for forgiveness for not questioning the $40 million discovery sooner:
“I know I’m going to be judged on that, you know, when my day in judgement comes, and so I’m asking for the forgiveness for the fact that I didn’t ask for more information. I just can’t vote for it.”
Despite his objections, the measure passed — Warren was the lone “no” vote.
Why Closing Pleasant Valley is a Bad Decision — A Common Sense Perspective
Let’s strip away the emotions for a moment and think through this like a city planner, a parent, and a taxpayer all rolled into one. Common sense says:
Don’t close a high-performing school unless every alternative is exhausted. Pleasant Valley was rated “A” in 2022 and 2024. That’s rare and valuable, especially in areas with economic challenges. High-performing schools are magnets for families and stabilize neighborhoods.
Small schools can be assets, not liabilities. They offer safer, walkable access, smaller class sizes, and tighter-knit relationships. Research often shows these factors can boost attendance, academic success, and parental involvement.
Enrollment can be grown. Adding specialized programs — bilingual tracks, magnet programs, STEM labs — can draw in students from outside the immediate area. Closing schools without trying these options first is like selling your car because it needs new tires.
Financial priorities need to align with community values. Finding $40 million after closing schools to save $3 million makes it appear that leadership either wasn’t transparent or isn’t prioritizing children over infrastructure.
Equity matters. If closures disproportionately affect minority communities, the district risks legal challenges and erodes public trust. Even if the motive wasn’t discriminatory, the impact still is.
Optics shape trust. Announcing bus facility upgrades in the same meeting where residents are grieving the loss of schools sends the wrong message. It tells the public that operational convenience ranks above educational continuity.
What AISD Could Have Done Differently
If the district truly faced declining enrollment, here are steps that could have been taken before closing doors:
Boundary Adjustments: Redraw attendance zones to bring in more students from overcrowded schools.
Program Expansion: Introduce specialized academic tracks to attract transfers.
Community Partnerships: Work with local organizations, nonprofits, and businesses to fund enrichment programs that make the school more attractive.
Marketing Campaigns: Highlight Pleasant Valley’s academic success to attract new families to the area.
Temporary Consolidations: Use shared staffing models or partial consolidations before full closures.
Public Process: Hold genuine town halls before making closure decisions, and keep them on official agendas.
The Ripple Effect on the City
Closing a neighborhood school doesn’t just affect students. It impacts:
Property Values: Families with children prefer areas with nearby schools; removing one can lower home demand and property values.
Population Stability: As McCoy warned, families often move when local schools close, leading to neighborhood decline.
Local Identity: Traditions and community bonds built over decades can’t be replicated in a consolidated campus miles away.
City Planning: More traffic from longer school commutes, increased busing costs, and reduced walkability all affect municipal planning.
The Bigger Picture — Trust in Public Institutions
The Pleasant Valley fight is about more than one school. It’s about whether public institutions can be trusted to make decisions that reflect community values rather than administrative convenience.
When a district says “we have no money,” then “finds” $40 million, while simultaneously pushing for expensive facility projects, it erodes public confidence. And once trust is lost, it’s hard to regain.
A Path Forward
Even though the closures are set, the story isn’t over. Communities like Pleasant Valley can:
Push for program investment at receiving schools so displaced students aren’t academically disadvantaged.
Demand transparency about district finances and capital projects.
Explore legal avenues if closures disproportionately impact minority communities.
Mobilize politically — school boards are elected, and elections can shift priorities.
Conclusion
The closure of Pleasant Valley Elementary and its fellow campuses wasn’t just a budget decision; it was a choice that will reshape neighborhoods, alter family routines, and test the public’s trust in AISD leadership.
Common sense — and decades of educational research — suggest that preserving high-performing, walkable, community-centered schools is worth the effort and investment. Once they’re gone, they don’t come back.
Amarillo ISD had options, ideas, and a willing community ready to help keep Pleasant Valley alive. Instead, they chose a path that may save a few million dollars in the short term but could cost far more in long-term community decline.
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