Give Me Sports or Give Me Death!

At the recent Claremont school board meetings, two groups showed up in force. On one side were parents who spoke about academic rigor, trades training, and the desperate need for better outcomes in math, science, and reading. On the other side, far louder, were parents and students pleading for the preservation of sports and extracurricular activities. Judging by the passion in the room, you might conclude that Friday night lights, not literacy, are the real core mission of public education.

That raises an uncomfortable question: what exactly are schools for?

The New Hampshire Constitution (Part 2, Article 83) lays out the state’s duty: to “cherish” literature, science, trades, agriculture, and the principles of honesty, sobriety, and industry. It is a long, ambitious list. But it never once mentions football, cheerleading, or basketball. The Founders of our state clearly saw education as essential to sustaining self-government. They did not see it as essential to sustaining a playoff season.

Yet in Claremont, sports have become non-negotiable. How? Because the institution of schooling has grown far beyond its constitutional mandate. Districts now see themselves as gatekeepers to the middle class. They not only provide academic basics but also offer every extracurricular activity that might help a student stand out in the college admissions lottery. In this model, varsity sports serve as a form of social currency, representing proof of discipline, leadership, and distinction. The problem is that the middle class itself is shrinking, the college degree has become a debt-ridden gamble, and the sports-scholarship dream is a narrow funnel at best.

This is why the tension at school board meetings feels irreconcilable. One group demands stronger academics and vocational preparation. Another demands the preservation of extracurricular glory. A single institution cannot satisfy both equally. In the business world, there’s an old saying: “Faster, better, cheaper; pick two.” When it comes to schools, parents, not boards, must do the picking.

That points to an alternative. Instead of pouring money into a one-size-fits-all monopoly, why not let funding follow the student? Why not allow parents to direct state support toward the form of education that actually fits their child, whether that means calculus, carpentry, or yes, even football? The Constitution requires us to cherish learning. It does not require us to subsidize touchdowns.

The state has inched toward this vision with Education Freedom Accounts, but those are under fire both politically and culturally. Homeschool communities are split, traditional districts are hostile, and legislators remain fixated on preserving the system rather than empowering families. Still, the principle is sound: cherish learning by investing in students, not in bureaucracies.

Until we confront this fact, Claremont will keep fighting the same circular battle. Parents will keep arguing past one another about whether academics or athletics deserve priority, while the institution itself lumbers along under financial mismanagement. And all the while, the students, the ones supposedly at the center, remain trapped in a structure designed to serve everyone and, predictably, serving no one very well.

It is time to stop pretending that a local district can be everything to everyone. The Constitution sets the purpose. Parents should choose the means. And the state should fund the child, not the institution.