"Mom, I hope we can afford my school" -Idaho’s school choice critics ignore the children being helped

The debate over Idaho’s parental choice tax credit has revealed something troubling — not just about politics, but about how much of the media and political establishment view families themselves.

For months, critics predicted catastrophe. They claimed the program was unconstitutional. The Idaho Supreme Court unanimously disagreed. They claimed nobody wanted it. Thousands of Idaho families applied. They claimed it would only benefit the wealthy. The evidence we do have already complicates that narrative substantially.

And yet the coverage continues to focus overwhelmingly on suspicion, hypothetical abuse, and political rhetoric while paying remarkably little attention to the actual Idaho children and families being helped.

That imbalance is becoming impossible to ignore.

Recent coverage has repeatedly referred to the program as a “voucher” despite the fact that it is a tax credit program. That language is not accidental. “Voucher” carries a specific political connotation designed to activate long-running ideological opposition to educational choice.

Meanwhile, editorial boards and opponents speculate endlessly about hypothetical wealthy beneficiaries while admitting they still do not have complete demographic data.

We currently know that roughly half of participating families are working class or fall below the program’s priority threshold of 300% of the federal poverty level. What we do not know is the median income of all participating families. But critics routinely leap from “we don’t yet know” to “wealthy families are exploiting the system.”

That is not evidence. That is assumption.

And it ignores what we have seen in other states. In Arizona, the median participating family income was roughly $62,500. In Indiana, it was roughly $82,000. Those are not millionaire households. They are ordinary families — often middle-income families making sacrifices to secure better educational opportunities for their children.

Indeed, the truly wealthy are probably among the least likely to spend time navigating a modest tax credit application process in the first place.

But even if some higher-income families participate, critics increasingly seem to suggest that preventing any possible benefit to them matters more than helping thousands of lower- and middle-income families access educational opportunities they otherwise could not afford.

That is a profoundly backward moral framework. As Margaret Thatcher once said, they'd rather the poor be poorer provided the rich are less rich.

And perhaps most striking of all is what — or rather who — is missing from so much of the media coverage.

Where are the stories of the families themselves?

Where are the stories of children finally receiving the educational support they need?

Where are the stories of parents who spent years feeling trapped financially and educationally?

Instead, we get endless speculation about hypothetical abuses and imaginary big-screen televisions — purchases explicitly prohibited under Idaho law.

One editorial warned ominously that someday we may hear stories of families using the credit for large-screen TVs. But predicting violations of a law is not evidence against the law itself. Every public program in existence has guardrails because misuse is prohibited. Public schools themselves deal with procurement abuses, accounting errors, and misuse of funds from time to time. No serious person concludes from this that public education itself should cease to exist.

The same critics who admit the state is still compiling first-year program data nevertheless accuse the Tax Commission of “withholding” information. But there is a meaningful difference between concealing finalized data and compiling incomplete first-year information during an active rollout. Headlines implying secrecy before the process is even complete are designed to generate suspicion, not understanding.

And through all of this, the actual families remain largely absent from the conversation.

Families like Stefan Haney's. His daughter with Down syndrome is now benefiting from an educational environment that offers the “inclusion, care and partnership” supporting her development.

Families like Jessica Everett's. She says the credit gives her family “the freedom to choose the education environment that works best.”

Families like Carlye Carleton's. She recalled the emotional moment her son told her, “Mom, I know this school is expensive, but I really hope we can afford my school.” No child should have to carry that burden.

Families like Annemarie Duran's. A mother of five, Annemarie explained that access to the program means “the difference between being able to respond to my children’s needs and being limited by what we can afford.”

These are not stories of greed. They are not stories of privilege. They are not stories of exploitation.

They are stories of parents trying to help their children thrive.

Thousands of Idaho children are now accessing educational opportunities their families previously could not afford. That is the central fact critics and much of the media continue to sidestep.

This debate has become saturated with procedural suspicion and ideological hostility while losing sight of the human beings involved. Opponents keep talking about systems, hypotheticals, and political fears. Idaho families keep talking about children.

And that distinction matters.

Because educational choice is not ultimately about institutions. It is about whether parents — not bureaucracies, not editorial boards, not political activists — are trusted to pursue the educational environment they believe best serves their children.

Thousands of Idaho families have already answered that question for themselves. We should finally start listening to them.