Preschool debate

Landmark study sparks question: Do preschool effects stick in Colorado but not in Tennessee?

PHOTO: Ann Schimke
Shelby County government could add an additional $2.5 million for pre-K for the new fiscal year starting on July 1.

A recent landmark study out of Tennessee upended the conventional wisdom about the power of preschool and raised questions nationwide, including in Colorado, about how to leverage early education to produce long-lasting impacts.

The Vanderbilt University study revealed that at-risk students who participated in Tennessee’s publicly-funded preschool program showed significant gains initially, but by third grade performed worse than non-participants on both academic and behavior measures.

Early childhood experts here say the study underscores the need for quality in both preschool and subsequent K-3 instruction, but that the findings don’t match Colorado data showing that academic benefits of preschool do stick.

“You don’t have the same story in Colorado,” said Charlotte Brantley, president and CEO of Denver’s Clayton Early Learning.

Like several early childhood advocates here, she cited longitudinal data showing that students in the state-funded Colorado Preschool Program consistently outperformed non-participating peers on all state tests from third to ninth grade.

But Dale Farran, one of the Vanderbilt study authors, said such data—part of an annual report to the Colorado legislature—doesn’t rigorously match preschool children to comparison group children. Instead of matching them prior to the preschool year, they’re matched after-the-fact in first grade—leaving many unknowns about parent motivation, poverty status and skill levels when the comparison children were 4.

Vanderbilt study highlights

  • Preschool participants had significantly higher achievement than non-participants at the end of the pre-K year.
  • At the beginning of kindergarten, teachers rated preschool participants as better prepared for kindergarten work and as having better work skills and more positive peer relations than non-participants.
  • By the end of kindergarten, non-participants had caught up to preschool participants on achievement measures.
  • By the end of first grade, teachers rated preschool participants as less well prepared for school, having poorer work skills and feeling more negative about school than non-participants.
  • By the end of second grade and into third grade, preschool participants were doing worse than non-participants on most achievement measures.

“You can’t claim your program is effective for poor children if you don’t know [the two groups] were the same at the beginning, before the children went to Pre-K,” she said.

Megan McDermott, a spokeswoman for the Colorado Department of Education, said via email, “We acknowledge that it is not as rigorous as an experimental study. We are using extant data because that is what is available to us.”

She went on to say that the 2012 legislative report included a more rigorous regression analysis study that found significant positive benefits of Colorado Preschool Program participation in third grade through sixth grade.

Early childhood advocates here and around the country say Vanderbilt’s findings on the “fade-out” of preschool benefits isn’t surprising given similar findings from an earlier Head Start Impact Study. What’s sometimes missing from the discussion, they say, is that other studies have shown pre-school participants reap significant non-academic benefits later in life. These include things like increased earnings, better health and reduced criminal activity.

“It’s not like this is the first time that a large-scale study has found this,” said Brian Conly, deputy director of the state’s Office of Early Childhood in the Department of Human Services.

“Yes, there may be a fadeout…but there are many, many other benefits to providing pre-kindergarten services.”

The wheels on the bus

Amid the debate about the impact of preschool, a visit to Clayton’s classrooms in northeast Denver offers both a glimpse of how a highly regarded program works and a reminder that it’s not easy to achieve.

The program is part of the national Educare network of model centers serving at-risk children. It’s been deemed a Center of Excellence by the federal Office of Head Start and holds a four out of five on the state’s quality rating system, Colorado Shines. (Currently, there are no programs with fives.)

Preschoolers at Clayton Educare in northeast Denver go on an imaginary bus ride.
Preschoolers at Educare Denver at Clayton Early Learning go on an imaginary bus ride.

On a recent afternoon there, six preschoolers boarded an imaginary bus, sitting in two rows of wooden chairs near their classroom door. One girl created tickets for her classmates, writing in orange crayon on slips of paper. A little boy in the front row assumed the role of the driver.

Lead Teacher Christine Holpuch crouched near the three- and four-year olds as they chattered about where they’d stashed their tickets and what errands they would do.

She smoothly eased frustration about the seating arrangement and asked the kids questions about their trip—How do you start the bus? Who’s wearing a seatbelt? Could they go to the grocery store?

Clayton, located in a stately building in northeast Denver, is a warm, inviting place where kids get lots of personal attention from well-trained teachers. On the afternoon of the imaginary bus trip, Holpuch, who holds a masters degree in early childhood education, and her fellow teacher John Quinn were in charge of about eight children.

Both teachers got down on the students’ level and let the youngsters guide the play—Holpuch’s group moved from riding the bus to playing school to building wooden ramps. Quinn sat nearby with two boys who were busy building robots and skyscrapers.

Brantley said Clayton just receiving funding to embark on its own study of longer-term preschool outcomes, following on work done by Educare centers in Chicago and Omaha

“In those programs so far, they’ve got one or two cohorts now of kids who’ve completed third grade. There’s not been a fadeout,” she said.

Fast and furious

So why do the Tennessee results look so different?

Responses to the Vanderbilt study

Some believe preschool quality suffered there because of a rushed statewide expansion. The 18,000-student program ramped up far faster than the similarly sized Colorado Preschool Program, launching statewide in 2005 compared to 1988 for Colorado.

Leaders here say several efforts to promote preschool quality have been going on in Colorado since the 1990s. These include the creation of the voluntary Qualistar rating program, which helped pave the way for the new mandatory Colorado Shines program. There also have been state grants to improve preschool quality, the creation of quality standards for Colorado Preschool Program classrooms and ongoing work by regional early childhood councils.

Kathryn Harris, executive director of Qualistar Colorado, said of Tennessee, “I don’t think they had the same vision around quality in early learning.”

Some early childhood leaders in Tennessee agree, saying practices varied wildly from classroom to classroom leading to spotty quality overall. But Farran has pushed back against that explanation. She rebutted such criticisms in a recent Brookings Institution report, writing that while the Tennessee program “has ample room for improvement, there is simply no convincing evidence that it is a program of distinctly lower overall quality than other statewide programs.”

In fact, Tennessee does have several well-regarded policies in place.

It meets nine of 10 preschool quality benchmarks established by the National Institute for Early Education Research, or NIERR. These include requiring preschool teachers to have a bachelor’s degree, and having class sizes of 20 or lower and staff-child ratios of 1:10 or better.

In comparison, Colorado meets just six of the 10 benchmarks.

Although Colorado falls short on four benchmarks—including the one requiring teachers to have a bachelor’s degree—it exceeds benchmarks on class size and staff-child ratio. The maximum class size in the Colorado Preschool Program is 16 and the maximum staff-child ratio is 1:8.

The director of NIERR, W. Steven Barnett, addressed the disconnect between model policies and quality classrooms in a recent blog post about the Vanderbilt study.

He said the NIERR benchmarks “are not, in themselves, guarantees of quality…they are primarily indicators of the resources available to programs, not whether these resources are used well.”

Financial resources

Many states, including Tennessee and Colorado, face preschool funding restraints that hinder their ability to meet the 10 quality benchmarks, according to the annual NIERR report. Both also lack the funding to serve all eligible at-risk children.

Clatyon building

Tennessee, which spends about $85 million on preschool, would need to spend an additional $3,200 per child to fully implement the benchmarks. Colorado, which spends about $75 million on preschool, would need to spend an additional $1,000 per child.

The average Colorado Preschool Program slot, which typically covers a half-day class, cost about $3,400 in 2013-14.

In contrast, consider an exemplary center like Clayton, which offers families a full complement of services along with child care and preschool. Each full-day, full-year seat costs $15,000-$18,000—typically paid for with money from various sources, including Head Start, Colorado Preschool Program, state child care subsidies, grants and private money. All told, there are nearly 200 preschoolers at Clayton’s main site and a second location in far northeast Denver.

While there are a small number of tuition-based slots at Clayton, most families either pay nothing or a small fee determined by the state’s child care subsidy program. Generally, children with the most risk factors receive priority in admission.

Conly said while every Colorado child doesn’t need a program as intensive as Clayton’s, adequate funding is a constant challenge.

“At the state level, there’s just so many competing priorities for the money,” he said.

No silver bullet

Aside from fresh discussions about what defines preschool quality, the Vanderbilt study has put new focus on the responsibility of the K-3 system to capitalize on preschool gains.

That’s because the Tennessee preschoolers studied did in fact show show up to kindergarten ahead of their peers in literacy and math, and were rated more highly by teachers on work skills and peer relations.

Some experts say that public schools tend to focus on the stragglers, leaving the more prepared preschool alums repeating lessons they already know until their non-preschool peers catch up.

In the same vein, Bill Jaeger, vice president of early childhood initiatives for the Colordo Children’s Campaign, said that nine months of preschool can’t be expected to inoculate kids from the effects of attending underfunded, low-performing schools in kindergarten and beyond.

But in states like Colorado and Tennessee—where K-12 funding is far below the national average—what are the prospects for a robust K-3 experience for at-risk children?

Take class size, which is strictly regulated in CPP programs but not in most public schools,  Jaeger said.

“These kiddos walk into kindergarten,” he said, “and we’re hearing stories about kindergartens with 27, 28, 32 in a classroom.”

The following is from the 2015 Legislative Report on the Colorado Preschool Program:

A co-author of the Vanderbilt study questions whether this data from the 2015 Colorado Preschool Program Legislative Report valid methodology.
A co-author of the Vanderbilt study questions whether this data from the 2015 Colorado Preschool Program Legislative Report valid methodology.

 

Paying for pre-K

To fund pre-K, advocates in Indiana pitch tax credit scholarships, ‘pay for success,’ tax hikes

PHOTO: Scott Elliott / Chalkbeat
Preschoolers at Shepherd Community Center.

Early childhood education advocates are suggesting new ways for the state to fund prekindergarten — by bringing in investments from local communities and corporations.

In a new report released Tuesday by the Indiana University Public Policy Institute and Early Learning Indiana, advocates recommended the state look into tax credit scholarships, social impact bonds, food and beverage tax revenues, or local referendums to pay for expanded pre-K access.

“I don’t think it should be shouldered just by the government or by the private sector alone,” said Madeleine Baker, CEO of the Early Childhood Alliance in Fort Wayne, who co-chaired the report’s advisory board. “I think there needs to be partnership across the board. Everybody has to have skin in the game.”

Tuesday’s report kicks off a renewed campaign to expand early childhood education in Indiana, which is shaping up to be a budget battle in the upcoming legislative session that starts in January.

It could be fairly easy for the state to launch tax credit scholarships for pre-K programs, since Indiana already spends $14.5 million on the school choice strategy. Businesses and individuals receive a 50 percent tax credit on donations to scholarship funds for students from low- and middle-income families to cover the cost of private school tuition in grades K-12.

With social impact bonds — often called “Pay for Success” models — private investors contract with the government to provide money up-front for early childhood initiatives, which is paid back if the programs are successful. Illinois, along with Idaho and Utah, uses the strategy.

Passing a local property tax increase or an option income tax is an increasingly popular option for funding early childhood education with long-term revenue. But raising taxes is a tough sell in Indiana, and likely more so in the state’s rural areas.

An effort to pass a local referendum for early childhood education in Indiana has failed before. In Columbus, voters refused to back a referendum in 2012 that would have supported a public-private partnership widely pointed to as a success.

The other new ideas for funding streams — tax credit scholarships and social impact bonds — also come with trade-offs, said Bruce Atchison, principal of early learning for the Education Commission of the States.

“If you have a big corporation that’s going to put half a million dollars into that, that’s great,” Atchison said. “But when the corporation moves from the state or has a downturn in profits, it might not be so willing. So the long-term sustainability of the social impact bond piece becomes a concern.”

While the report did not include a big-picture estimate for how much more money the state should spend on pre-K, it did put a price tag on the cost of not investing in early childhood.

Employers in Indiana lose $1.8 billion each year from workers taking time off or leaving their jobs because of child care issues, the report said. Those absences are equivalent to losing 31,000 full-time employees and result in costs to businesses for paying for parents’ time off, hiring and training new workers, and paying for overtime or temporary workers.

The report also said the state loses $1.1 billion in economic activity each year from people reducing their spending if they lose out on wages because of child care issues.

It’s a popular argument in support of pre-K: Early childhood education benefits the workforce, both this generation and the next. Advocates say increasing high-quality pre-K seats helps parents stay or get back into the workforce while preparing young children with essential skills.

“Economic development speaks to Republicans,” said former Indianapolis mayor Greg Ballard, a Republican himself who championed pre-K and co-chaired the advisory board. “I’m hoping they look at these figures and say, hey, maybe that’s something we should be looking at.”

He added that he hopes the ideas for public-private partnerships — which he used to launch Indianapolis’ pre-K program — will also speak to the Republican lawmakers who dominate the legislature.

“I don’t think there’s yet a general understand that this should be done for many reasons, not the least of which is economic development,” Ballard said. “It’s just not in our psyche yet that this is part of who we are as Hoosiers.”

The state’s pre-K program, known as On My Way Pre-K, is in the fourth year of its five-year pilot. At a cost of $22 million per year, it is available in 20 counties and pays for roughly 4,000 4-year-olds from low-income families to attend the high-quality pre-K provider of their choice.

If the state is to continue funding the pre-K program, advocates’ best shot for securing money is in the upcoming session, when lawmakers craft the state’s two-year budget.

Expanding pre-K is likely to have the support of Republican Gov. Eric Holcomb, who pushed in 2017 for an earlier expansion of the program to more rural areas of the state.

The issue has already won the support of Republican state schools chief Jennifer McCormick, who said earlier this month that too many Hoosier children enter kindergarten unprepared.

Advocates cite research showing the long-term returns on investment of pre-K and a study showing the success of pre-K in Oklahoma. They even point to research showing where Tennessee’s pre-K program fell short as an example of how important it is to maintain high quality standards for pre-K.

A recent report also showed that universal preschool in Washington, D.C., helped more mothers return to the workforce.

But funding is still likely to be a sticking point: How much money will lawmakers be willing to invest in pre-K?

“In a budget year, everyone has a request for something,” said Tim Brown, general counsel and director of policy for the Indy Chamber, in an interview last month with Chalkbeat.

Advocates say they are still struggling to convince people that pre-K is a worthwhile investment that amounts to more than daycare.

Indianapolis Mayor Joe Hogsett, a Democrat, said he believes pre-K has already proved its worth. Researchers have been studying the early outcomes of the state’s pilot program, which is showing both academic gains for children, and an increase in work and education opportunities for parents.

“I think the results of those programs are self-evident, that they do make a critical difference to get our young people off to a great start in life,” Hogsett told Chalkbeat recently. “So I hope that those results will speak volumes as the legislature crafts its next biennial budget.”

Launch pad

In a tough business, startups vie to become the Uber and Lyft of child care

PHOTO: Joe Amon/The Denver Post
Yemi Habte works with her daughters Charis Mandefro 9, and Anna Mandefro 2, as Stephanie Olson of Aurora, a MyVyllage mentor, watches during a mentoring session in Habte's home.

One summer morning, Yemi Habte sat at the kitchen table in her suburban Aurora home poring over a 10-page packet of child care forms with her mentor Steph Olson, a veteran child care provider who lives nearby.

Soon, Habte would open her own home-based child care business, Shining Little Lights, and Olson had come over to answer her questions. Habte wondered what to do if parents didn’t want to list their employers on the form? Or wanted their children to have only organic food? The pair also talked through emergency contacts, sunscreen procedures, and field trips.

The friendly kitchen table meeting, punctuated by cups of rich Ethiopian coffee and a snack of crisp roasted barley, didn’t happen by chance. It was the work of a new Colorado-based company called MyVyllage.

The idea is to make opening and running a high-quality home-based child care business easier and more lucrative. That means guiding providers like Habte through the complicated start-up process, helping them fill open spots, and simplifying back-office tasks such as billing and record-keeping.

Over the long haul, MyVyllage has ambitious plans: minting more than 100,000 new licensed home-based child care providers and a million new child care slots nationwide over the next decade. It’s a lofty goal in an industry marked by low pay, long hours, a maze of regulation, and a steady decline in the number of licensed home-based providers.

But MyVyllage isn’t alone in this enterprise. A growing cadre of for-profit and nonprofit groups — with names like WeeCare, WonderSchool, Early Learning Ventures, and Pie for Providers — are using what’s called a “shared services” approach to help new and existing child care businesses achieve efficiencies they couldn’t on their own.

Think buying supplies or insurance in bulk at a discount, streamlining the state child care subsidy process, or using a common pool of substitute teachers, mentors or coaches. While many of the groups offer similar services, some emphasize technology solutions, others focus on hands-on help, and still others offer a combination of the two.

Early childhood advocates and philanthropists are generally enthusiastic about this growing segment of the market, seeing it as an overdue innovation in a patchwork-quilt industry that lacks central infrastructure and economies of scale.

But it also raises a key question: Will tens of thousands of people accept the offer to enter and stay in a notoriously tough business?

Louise Stoney, who runs Opportunities Exchange, a national organization that promotes early childhood shared services alliances, believes it’s possible. She thinks that the approach can do for child care what companies like Uber and Lyft did for ride-sharing.

Shared services, she said, have been used for years in other sectors, but is relatively new in the early childhood world — one largely built on the failed model of small, stand-alone businesses.

“They’re tiny little businesses,” she said. “They don’t have scale. They’re not maximizing automation.”

The point of shared services, she said, is to ”really think about efficiency as a value that matters and as a way to drive more dollars into the classroom.”

Origin story

Two mothers, Erica Mackey and Elizabeth Szymanski, founded MyVyllage in 2017 after struggling to find child care themselves.

The pair met while working on business degrees at Oxford University and both have backgrounds in entrepreneurship. Mackey, who lives in Montana, co-founded a solar energy company that provides affordable electricity to households in Africa. Szymanski, who lives near Boulder, co-founded a company that allows companies to establish the value of their shares and helped build a plastics recycling company in Tanzania.

“I don’t have an early childhood background. I’m a business-builder,” Szymanski said. “But I’m a mom with two kids.”

MyVyllage’s glossy website, dotted with pictures of smiling providers and bright-eyed children, offers an appealing pitch to prospective home-based child care providers — perhaps teachers or mothers interested in staying home with their own young children.

“Make going to work the best part of your day,” it exclaims. “Focus on the children. We’ll handle the rest.”

Other up-and-coming companies in the sector make similar offers. WeeCare, a Los Angeles-based company that aims to open a million new child care homes nationwide over the next decade, tells prospective providers, “Earn up to $90,000 a year doing what you love.”

WonderSchool, with 140 child care businesses in California and New York City under its umbrella, sells its services this way: “You decide how you teach,” “Set your own schedule,” “Make more money.”

At least two dozen other groups around the country are working to support early childhood businesses with a shared services approach. Many focus on a single county or region, operate with the help of grant-funding, and don’t aspire to major expansion.

One such effort, run by a network of child centers called Early Connections, is based in Colorado Springs. The group, which has a grant from the Michigan-based W.K. Kellogg Foundation, works with 38 established home-based providers to improve quality and business practices. It’s a hands-on model, with monthly coaching sessions, regular gatherings for peer support, and an equipment lending library.

Diane Price, who heads Early Connections, doesn’t see her venture growing much bigger, but applauds the early childhood shared services movement. It’s a boon to providers, who often work in isolation, and helps gives families more child care choices, she said.

But child care trends in Colorado and nationwide suggest that companies like MyVyllage are in for a remarkably heavy lift.

Although many families prefer home-based child care, particularly for infants and toddlers, such providers are closing their doors faster than they’re opening them. From July 2015 to July 2017, the most recent numbers available, Colorado’s non-24-hour licensed home providers declined 13 percent to 2,159 homes — a loss of more than 300 homes, according to the Colorado Department of Human Services.

The on-ramp

Here’s how the MyVyllage model works: Prospective child care providers enter into a franchise agreement with the company. MyVyllage provides help with state licensing, access to back-office technology, and a choice of seven early childhood curriculums vetted by an adviser affiliated with the Center on the Developing Child at Harvard University. It also matches providers with a local mentor who will work with them for up to two years.

Currently, MyVyllage has three mentors and seven beginning providers, about half in Colorado and half in Montana.

Once new providers open their doors, they pay a fee to MyVyllage equal to 10 percent of their child care revenue. MyVyllage leaders say that providers will recoup that money and more through discounts and efficiencies facilitated by the company.

The idea, Mackey said, is to “get businesses working so they’re making more money than they would without us.”

MyVyllage also gives veteran providers a way to boost their income. To that end, mentors receive a quarterly fee from the company for assisting new providers, though company leaders declined to specify how it’s determined.

Szymanski estimated that some mentors will be able to make $20,000 annually by mentoring 10 to 12 providers a year. In practice, that would probably mean providing a few months of intense mentoring to two to three providers at a time. It’s up to mentors how many mentees to take on at once, she said.

MyVyllage leaders are still testing different ways of charging mentors for tools, discounts, and benefits available through the company’s platform.

Currently, Steph Olson and and her husband Roger Olson are MyVyllage’s only mentors in Colorado. They run a top-rated child care facility called Kids’ Castle out of their Aurora home.

The pair launched the business in 2010 after leaving jobs in corporate America.

Watching the Olsons interact with toddlers and preschoolers in the sunlit front room of their home, it’s easy to see why they would be selected as mentors. They have a warm rapport with the children, a strong grasp of child care rules, and a wealth of activities and materials to keep the kids engaged. They also have an enormous waiting list.

One July morning, Roger read a book about a monkey who likes to play drums to a gaggle of children elbow to elbow on the floor in front of him. The Olsons’ dog Sugar, who looks a bit like a stuffed animal, meandered quietly through the room. A little later, Steph took notice of a little girl who tearfully admitted that she missed her mother.

“Should we gave Anna a huggie?” Steph Olson asked the children nearby. “Anna is feeling a little sad.”

A fresh start

Steph Olson is eager to help new home-based providers like Yemi Habte, who with her husband Wondi Gebrue, is now licensed to serve up to 12 children at Shining Little LIghts.

“I love paying it forward,” said Olson.

She also appreciates the sense of community MyVyllage is building among participating providers.

As she counseled Habte recently at the kitchen table, she said, “If you’re ever in doubt, just call me or email me, I’m here for you.”

Habte and Gebrue came to the U.S. from Ethiopia last year with their four children, ages 2 to 20. They moved across the ocean to be closer to Gebrue’s family. Prior to the move, Habte had been the general manager of a school. Gebrue had been a state minister of agriculture.

Habte, who is calm and soft-spoken, discovered MyVyllage through an online ad. Before she joined, she was interviewed by MyVyllage staff and toured Kids’ Castle. Steph Olson said she knew Habte had the right temperament for the job when she paused during the tour to help a child clean up spilled paint.

“To see that, I knew she had heart,” said Olson.

All told, the Olsons have provided about 14 hours of in-person mentoring — some at Kids Castle and some at Shining Little Lights. They also exchange phone calls and texts, and sometimes meet informally over coffee.

Habte explained her desire to open her home for child care, saying, “It’s my lifetime goal to be with children.”

PHOTO: Joe Amon/The Denver Post
Yemi Habte cleans up for snack time with her daughters, Anna Mandefro 2, and Charis Mandefro, 9, during a session with Stephanie Olson, a MyVyllage mentor in her home. (Photo by Joe Amon/The Denver Post)

After she and Steph Olson finished going through forms at the kitchen table, they moved into Habte’s family room, which had been transformed into a kid-friendly haven with colorful foam matting on the floor, an appealing display of children’s books, and a row of crisp white cubbies built by Roger Olson. The pale yellow walls were decorated with flower and butterfly decals and a Disney princess clock.

With Olson looking on, Habte practiced conversational exchanges on her 2-year-old daughter Anna, who examined a collection of pine cones, river rocks, and seashells at the table.

“Label what she’s doing,” suggested Olson.

“Do you want to touch this one?” Habte asked Anna as she handed her a pine cone. “Can you touch it?”

As the little girl looked over the items, Habte picked up a green and purple plastic magnifying glass and offered it to her daughter.

Digital generation

One of the things that excites funders and observers about the new crop of companies trying to strengthen the child care industry is that many are run by young tech-savvy entrepreneurs.

Stoney, of Opportunities Exchange, said she suspects that some millennials have come to see child care as ripe for innovation as they’ve become parents themselves.

Before that, she said, “Quite frankly, they really didn’t have a reason to care about our field. … It wasn’t until they started having kids and said, ‘Wait a minute.’”

The Denver-based funder Gary Community Investments has invested in several shared services newcomers, including MyVyllage and Wonderschool. It also awarded money to WeeCare and Pie For Providers through a national early childhood competition last spring. Gary also recognized Early Connections in the contest, but the organization didn’t win prize money.

Gary is also a Chalkbeat funder through the Piton Foundation.

Steffanie Clothier, child development investment director at Gary, said she’s encouraged some of these groups have plans to launch thousands of new child care businesses.

It’s exciting these groups are thinking about scale from the beginning, she said. Given their backgrounds and talents, they are the kind of founders that can say, “What is the kind of business model that can help a lot of providers?”

Jon-Paul Bianchi, a program officer at the W.K. Kellogg Foundation, said, “I think we should have those kinds of ambitious goals … because the need is clear.”

Bianchi, who said Kellogg has funded shared services work for about seven years, said it helps build critical capacity in the child care world, including in communities that serve low-income families and children of color.

“It’s been tough to get other funders to engage in it. It’s not super sexy. It’s not super splashy … It’s real nuts and bolts stuff,” he said.