Stop Treating Arts Education Like It Doesn’t Matter

A few weeks ago, I raised concern about Pine Hill Middle School in Richmond County, Georgia, and the threat to its chorus program. Now, across the river in Aiken County, South Carolina, chorus programs are being cut or reduced at multiple middle schools. According to local reporting, Paul Knox Middle, Kennedy Middle, and North Augusta Middle were all initially set to lose chorus for the 2026–2027 school year. After it was discovered that roughly 50 student course requests at Paul Knox had not been included in the original data, the district revised its plan so one full-time chorus teacher would be split between Paul Knox and Kennedy. North Augusta Middle is still expected to be without a chorus teacher.

That should alarm every parent, educator, artist, taxpayer, and community leader in this region.

These are different schools in different districts in two different states. But the pattern is the same: when budgets tighten, enrollment shifts, or staffing gets complicated, arts education is often one of the first things put on the chopping block.

That is a mistake.

We have got to stop treating arts education like it is optional, ornamental, or expendable. It is not a bonus. It is not fluff. It is not something children should only have access to if their families can afford private lessons, transportation, or after-school enrichment.

For many students, arts education is the reason they stay connected to school at all.

It is where they learn confidence.
It is where they learn discipline.
It is where they learn how to perform, prepare, collaborate, listen, and lead.
It is where some students first realize they are good at something.

And for children who may never step into a private studio, attend a paid camp, or get formal training outside the school building, chorus, band, theater, dance, and visual art classes are not extras. They are access.

One parent quoted in the Aiken County reporting said what many families already know: not everyone has the opportunity to pursue enrichment outside of school, and that is exactly why these programs belong in public schools.

Let’s also be honest about the long-term damage.

When you cut chorus in middle school, you do not just affect middle school. You weaken the pipeline into high school music programs. You make it harder for directors to build strong ensembles. You reduce the number of students entering high school with skills, confidence, and experience. You send a message early that the arts are secondary.

Then later, people wonder why participation drops.

You cannot starve the pipeline and then point to low numbers as justification for more cuts.

That is not strategy. That is managed decline.

School districts may argue these decisions are based on staffing realities, enrollment changes, and student demand. In Aiken County, officials also pointed to district spending on fine arts supplies and equipment and floated alternatives like after-school choir, summer programming, and county-wide opportunities. But alternatives are not replacements.

An after-school program does not help the child who rides the bus.
A summer option does not replace year-round instruction.
A shared teacher is not the same as a stable, school-based program.
A county-wide experience is not the same as belonging to something in your own building.

If we believe public education should develop the whole child, then arts education must be defended as part of that mission, not treated like an optional add-on when convenient.

This is not just an arts issue. It is a public education issue. It is an equity issue. It is a workforce issue. It is a community issue.

The arts teach skills employers say they want: communication, teamwork, focus, creativity, adaptability, public presentation, persistence. They also build school culture, student pride, and civic confidence. Young people who learn to use their voices in chorus, theater, debate, and the visual arts often become adults who know how to advocate, participate, and lead.

So no, this is not small.

And the community should not respond small, either.

Here are five specific things people can do right now:

1. Contact decision-makers directly.
Parents, grandparents, alumni, arts supporters, and residents should email and call principals, district leaders, and school board members. Be specific. Name the school. Name the program. Ask what data was used, what alternatives were considered, and what it would take to preserve in-school arts instruction.

2. Show up at school board meetings and speak on the record.
Do not assume private frustration is enough. Public comment matters. A room full of parents, students, clergy, artists, and community advocates sends a different message than a few angry posts online. Bring students when appropriate. Let elected and appointed officials see the faces behind these decisions.

3. Demand transparent enrollment and course-request data.
If dozens of student requests at Paul Knox were left out of the original picture, then every community should be asking harder questions about how “low interest” is being measured. Ask to see the numbers. Ask when course requests were collected. Ask whether students and families were clearly informed. Ask how errors will be prevented going forward.

4. Organize visible support at the school level.
Start or support petitions. Gather letters from parents, former students, local pastors, musicians, business owners, and community partners. Ask PTAs, booster groups, neighborhood associations, and arts organizations to issue statements of support. Districts need to see that cutting arts programs creates real public consequences.

5. Push for a long-term regional arts education strategy.
Do not just fight one cut at a time. Ask school systems, local governments, arts councils, business leaders, and philanthropic partners to come together around a serious plan to strengthen the arts pipeline from middle school through high school. If we know these programs are vulnerable, then we need a strategy, not repeated emergencies.

This is the moment to decide what kind of public education we believe in.

Do we believe students deserve only the bare minimum?
Do we believe schools should offer only what is easiest to staff and cheapest to protect?
Do we believe the arts belong only to children whose parents can pay?

Or do we believe every child deserves access to the kind of education that helps them grow intellectually, creatively, socially, and emotionally?

I know where I stand.

I stand with the students who found their voice in chorus.
I stand with the teachers trying to build something meaningful with too few resources.
I stand with the families who know arts education is not a luxury.
And I stand with the communities that need to get louder, more organized, and more strategic right now.

Because once a program disappears, bringing it back is much harder than saving it.

And our children should not have to beg us to protect the very things that help them thrive.