One of the most helpful lessons decades of education advocacy have taught me is this: fighting the good fight often feels like you’re banging your head against a brick wall. You push, you plead, you present rock-solid evidence—and nothing moves. And then one day, sometimes without warning, that same immovable wall suddenly crumbles.
This is a lesson I often share because working for school start time change is not for the faint of heart. Just the other day, longtime chapter leaders came to me discouraged that their legislative efforts were going nowhere. They’d poured years into this fight and were still getting blank stares from school leaders and legislators alike.
Believe me, I get it. I nearly gave up myself—more than once—just like so many advocates and health experts before me.
When my family moved to Anne Arundel County, Maryland in 2000, my oldest was 12. We read in the newspaper that the district was planning a pilot to start its flagship high school at 9 a.m. the following year, based on research that was already strong even then. We were thrilled. We assumed that by the time my daughter reached high school, later start times would be the norm.
But the pilot was cut at the last minute. All three of my kids ended up graduating from a high school that started at 7:17 a.m. Today, the daughter who started it all is 38—with three kids of her own.
And yet here’s the twist: today my county does start its schools at healthy hours. In fact, we’ve become something of a poster child for how to get this done. Yes, the change came too late for my own family. But it happened. And it keeps happening, even in places that once seemed utterly immovable.
Just last month, it happened in Clark County, Nevada, the nation’s fifth‑largest school district.
When Your Biggest Foes Become Your Biggest Advocates
Back in 2022, Clark County was about the last place I expected to see progress. That spring, the district announced plans to move high school start times even earlier—some to 7:00 a.m.—citing a bus driver shortage (the same shortage affecting many districts nationwide, regardless of start times). The community pushed back, pointing to sleep research, AAP recommendations, and California’s new law setting floor on how early classes could begin. It could have been a moment for the district to rethink its already too‑early schedules and modernize its transportation system. Instead, leaders insisted that earlier start times were the only solution.
That’s when I wrote a letter to the superintendent on behalf of Start School Later. I urged him to reconsider and pointed out that transportation crises can be opportunities to rethink outdated systems. I wrote:
“Starting middle and high schools before 8:30 a.m. should no more be on the table than not paying for heat in February or not removing asbestos.”
But our pleas—along with those of local advocates—went nowhere.
The following year, when the Nevada State Board of Education drafted a regulation requiring high schools statewide to start no earlier than 8:00 a.m., Clark County officials erupted. They warned of catastrophic costs, impossible logistics, and dire consequences for athletics, jobs, safety, and budgets. They presented three “options,” all designed to be unpalatable, and insisted these were the only choices. Critics quickly pointed out the flaws in this framing, noting that the district was thinking far too narrowly and ignoring more creative, workable solutions.
The message from Clark County was unmistakable: Later start times were impossible. Too hard. Too costly. Not happening.
And then—fast forward to January 2026—everything changed.
A new superintendent, Jhone M. Ebert, led a community‑driven review of start times, complete with surveys and public engagement. And suddenly the district that once threatened litigation over later start times was saying things like:
“By moving the high school start time later, we aren’t just giving our high school students a break. We’re giving them a fighting chance to succeed.”
They sounded like us.
This Isn’t Just a Clark County Story
This kind of complete about‑face isn’t unique.
In Columbia, Missouri, a decade earlier, the district also tried to move high school start times earlier to save money. A 15‑year‑old student, Jilly Dos Santos, refused to accept it. She organized her peers, rallied the community, and used research we shared with her to show that the district could save the same amount of money by moving start times later instead of earlier. The school board reversed course and adopted a 9 a.m. start time. Jilly ended up in the New York Times and the Huffington Post—not because she had special power, but because she challenged the assumption that early start times were inevitable.
Her story is a reminder that misguided proposals can become catalysts for better solutions when communities refuse to accept false choices.
And Then It Happened at Home
I saw the same surreal flip in my own district. For literally decades, Anne Arundel County insisted that high schools had to start at 7:17 a.m. They wouldn’t budge, not even for a no‑cost 13‑minute shift.
Then, in 2022, after years of stalemate, everything changed. Nearly a quarter century after the first local calls for healthier hours, the district finally moved high school start times to 8:30 a.m. Leaders described the change as “the right thing for kids,” emphasizing student well‑being, learning, and safety. They credited improved transportation modeling, sustained community pressure, and a commitment to aligning operations with what the science had long made clear.
After decades of being told the system couldn’t bend, it suddenly did. The change that once felt hopeless became reality almost overnight.
Now AACPS is a national model for school start time reform. I still have to pinch myself.
Why You Shouldn’t Give Up
Clark County’s decision isn’t perfect. Middle schools are still slated to start at 7:30 a.m.—a step backward that will harm kids who are just as vulnerable to sleep loss as high schoolers. And as always, nothing is final until the buses actually roll out at the right times. Anyone who has worked in this space knows that progress can be fragile.
But it is progress. Real, meaningful progress—and for the right reasons. A district that once insisted later start times were impossible is now publicly affirming the science, centering student wellbeing, and acknowledging that healthier hours matter. That shift in mindset is a big deal. In fact, it’s the foundation every long-term change is built on.
And those middle schoolers? They’ll be high schoolers soon enough. If the benefits of later high school starts are as clear and compelling as they have been elsewhere, the community will have every incentive to keep pushing for schedules that support all adolescents. They’re already talking about it. The door that was bolted shut is now cracked open.
We don’t have to pretend the work is finished to recognize how far things have moved. We also don’t have to kill the better in pursuit of the perfect.
And make no mistake: things are better.
So if you’re in the trenches right now—exhausted, discouraged, or convinced your district will never change—remember this:
The wall looks solid until the moment it cracks.
And when it cracks, it often crumbles fast.
So keep going. Your wall may be closer to crumbling than it seems.
Also worth remembering is Arthur Schopenhauer’s famous observation that all truths move through three stages: first ridicule, then fierce resistance, and finally acceptance as “self‑evident.”
If your district is still stuck in those first two stages, don’t mistake that for failure. It may simply mean you’re closer to that third stage than you realize.
Same thing happened in Nashville last week with a new Mayor!