When Jonathan Salazar addressed the school board on November 19, he had spent weeks preparing his three-minute plea. He had carefully crafted his words to be passionate yet respectful, and even set an early alarm to secure a speaking slot after missing the chance a month prior.
By the time he reached the microphone, the Cleveland Metropolitan School District (CMSD) had already confirmed his fears: Louisa May Alcott, the school his twin sons attend, was on a list of 18 recommended for closure.
In a voice that grew stronger with each sentence, Salazar explained why Alcott must remain open. He described how the school’s small class sizes and dedicated staff had allowed his two sons, both with special needs, to flourish. “It changed my life,” he said. “It changed my boys’ life.”
Salazar has been rallying parents and community members since before CMSD officially announced its plan to merge 39 schools, a move the district says will save money on under-enrolled buildings and allow for expanded academic programs.
If the school board approves the plan on December 9, Alcott will merge with Waverly Elementary and Joseph Gallagher Elementary, consolidating into Gallagher’s building. The new school would have a projected enrollment near 1,000 students, a stark contrast to Alcott’s current student body of 167.
Alcott families argue that their students, particularly those in special education, would struggle in such a large environment. They see the proposal not as a merger but a closure, and worry that their most vulnerable children are an afterthought in the district’s plans.
The very intimacy that makes families fight for Alcott is what has placed it at risk. As the only public K-5 school in Cleveland, its small size falls short of the district’s target of 450 students for K-8 schools, a number deemed necessary for cost efficiency and robust programming. At a meeting, a CMSD administrator confirmed that low enrollment and building size were the primary factors in the decision.
In response, the Alcott community has drafted a petition with hundreds of signatures, emailed school board members, and appeared at meetings with children holding handmade signs.
For Salazar, who moved to Cleveland from New York, finding the right school for his twin boys, Xavier and Gabriel, was a major concern. Both have autism, and Gabriel also has cerebral palsy. At Alcott, he found a supportive environment where his sons were included and understood. He credits the staff with helping Xavier transition from a self-contained special education classroom to a general education setting—an achievement he believes would be impossible in a larger school.
Other parents share his appreciation. Mayouri Inthavong, whose children are in third and fourth grade, expressed her grief over losing the community. “It’s really, really sad, because they have a great staff here,” she said, her voice filled with emotion.
Adam and Brandi Baggerman, who moved from Texas last year, were drawn to Alcott’s small scale. “I did not realize when we moved to Cleveland that schools were K-8, which made me very nervous, because Ryan’s very quiet,” Brandi said. During public comment, she argued that Alcott’s unique K-5 structure and wraparound services should qualify it as a specialty school worth preserving.
The school’s family atmosphere is embodied by Frank Gangale, who has lived across the street for 50 years and worked at Alcott for the last 12. Known as the school’s unofficial grandpa, he says, “The people, the teachers and everybody, the staff, is all friendly. We’re like family here.”
A critical concern is the fate of Alcott’s special education students, who make up nearly a third of the student body. Mary Adler, a special education teacher at Alcott for 25 years, was recently instructed to send a letter to her students’ families. While it guaranteed services would continue, it did not guarantee a place at Gallagher, which she was told may lack space for more special education classes.
“My kids are the most impacted by transitions and change,” Adler said. “It’s the special education students who are always thought of last.”
This uncertainty has left parents like Trevor Hunt deeply unsettled. His first-grade daughter has made “great strides” at Alcott, and he worries a school of nearly 1,000 students would be overwhelming. “What gets kind of lost in the sauce here is that there are specific needs for some students,” he said.
The looming decision has forced parents into difficult conversations and contingency plans. Salazar has considered moving back to New York if Alcott closes. Hunt said leaving the district entirely is a “realistic possibility” for his family. According to teacher Rachel Kolecky, many families are exploring private, religious, or charter schools as alternatives.
Brandi Baggerman has started talking to her son, Ryan, about the potential changes, but it’s hard to answer his most pressing questions about his friends and teachers. The uncertainty is heartbreaking.
“At the meeting we had last week, he was listening, he’s engaged,” Brandi recalled. “And we adjourned, and everybody’s getting up, and he was like: ‘Did we do it? Did we save my school?’”
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