Tag Archives: historically black colleges

From Four to Fifty: Rebuilding Black Boarding Schools and Day Schools for STEM Dominance

I have discovered few learning disabled students in my three decades of teaching. I have, however, discovered many, many victims of teaching inabilities. – Marva Collins

When the Eight Schools Association, comprising Phillips Exeter, Phillips Andover, Choate Rosemary Hall, and other elite boarding schools, sends delegations to the Intel International Science and Engineering Fair or MATHCOUNTS Championships, they arrive with institutional power behind them. Generations of alumni networks, endowments in the hundreds of millions, dedicated competition coaches, and a culture that expects excellence. These schools don’t just prepare students for competitions; they’ve built entire ecosystems that produce winners systematically.

The African American community needs the same—not to gain access to their institutions, but to build our own parallel ecosystem of excellence. This isn’t about integration into existing structures; it’s about developing Black-controlled educational institutions that create seamless pipelines from kindergarten through college, from HBCU undergraduate research to Black-owned businesses and laboratories. It’s about institutional sovereignty and generational wealth-building through education.

The infrastructure already exists in fragments: four remaining historic Black boarding schools fighting for survival, HBCU laboratory schools serving thousands of students on HBCU campuses, scattered private Black schools across the nation, and 101 HBCUs waiting to receive the next generation of Black scholars. What’s missing is the connective tissue—the strategic vision to link these institutions into a powerhouse network that rivals anything the Eight Schools Association offers, while recognizing that most Black families need day school options, not just boarding programs.

African American students’ underrepresentation in elite STEM competitions—Science Olympiad, USA Biology Olympiad, American Computer Science League, Conrad Challenge isn’t a talent problem. It’s an institutional problem. When majority-Black schools face closure rates nearly double that of other schools nationwide, according to Stanford research, competition programming becomes an afterthought, if it exists at all. Meanwhile, prestigious institutions treat competition success as institutional mandate. They hire Ph.D.-level coaches, fund unlimited travel to regional and national contests, maintain state-of-the-art laboratories and makerspaces, and celebrate academic victories with the same fervor as athletic championships. Most importantly, they’ve built alumni networks spanning decades that provide mentorship, internships, and career pathways for graduates.

The Eight Schools Association demonstrates what institutional coordination achieves. These schools share best practices, collaborate on programming, and maintain standards of excellence that elevate all members. Their graduates don’t just attend elite colleges; they create companies, endow professorships, and return resources to strengthen the institutions that launched them. African Americans need this same institutional architecture but built for us, by us, serving our community’s interests and priorities.

While boarding schools capture attention with their prestige and immersive environments, the reality is that most Black families want and need high-quality day schools. Boarding schools serve grades 9-12 and require families to send children away, a proposition that doesn’t align with many Black family structures, cultural values, or financial realities. The future of Black educational excellence must therefore be built on a foundation of elite private day schools serving Pre-K through 12, supplemented by strategic boarding school options for families who choose that path.

Only four historic African American boarding schools remain from the over 100 that once existed: The Piney Woods School in Mississippi, Laurinburg Institute in North Carolina, Pine Forge Academy in Pennsylvania, and Redemption Christian Academy in upstate New York. These institutions represent more than educational options—they embody Black self-determination in education. The decline from over 100 to just four is a catastrophic loss of Black educational infrastructure that demands urgent reversal. But the primary focus must be on establishing a network of at least fifty elite Black private day schools across the country within the next decade, complemented by fifteen boarding schools for families seeking that option. Together, these institutions would create a comprehensive ecosystem serving Pre-K through grade 12, explicitly designed to rival the Eight Schools Association and other elite networks in resources, reputation, and results.

The day school model solves multiple practical challenges. Families maintain daily contact with their children while accessing elite education. Schools can serve Pre-K through 12, creating 14-year pipelines instead of just four years. Geographic coverage can be broader, with schools in major metropolitan areas where Black families are concentrated. And costs per student are lower than boarding, making sustainability more achievable.

Each elite Black private day school in the network would be designed as a competition powerhouse from the ground up. This means recruiting PhD-level faculty and competition coaches—the same caliber of talent that elite institutions employ. Science programs need teachers with doctoral degrees who’ve conducted research and understand how to prepare students for Olympiad-level competition. Mathematics departments require faculty who’ve published in their fields and can coach students to MATHCOUNTS and AMC excellence. Computer science programs need instructors with both academic credentials and industry experience who can lead programming teams to national prominence.

The Eight Schools Association succeeds because they pay top dollar for elite talent. Black private schools must do the same, offering competitive salaries that attract the best minds to teach our students. This isn’t optional it’s the price of competing at the highest levels. A well-meaning teacher with a bachelor’s degree cannot compete against PhD coaches at elite institutions. We must match their investment in human capital.

Beyond faculty, these schools require world-class infrastructure. State-of-the-art science laboratories where students can conduct genuine research. Extensive libraries with digital and physical resources rivaling small colleges. Advanced makerspaces with 3D printers, laser cutters, and robotics equipment. Computer labs with the latest technology. Athletic facilities that support both physical education and competitive sports. These facilities cannot be afterthoughts they must be built from the beginning to match or exceed what elite independent schools offer.

These schools must be strategically distributed across the country, not hostage to HBCU locations. Major metropolitan areas with significant Black populations need multiple options. Atlanta should have at least three elite Black private day schools. The DMV area (D.C., Maryland, Virginia) needs at least four. Houston, Dallas, Chicago, Detroit, New Orleans, Memphis, Charlotte—each requires multiple institutions to serve their communities adequately. But the network must also extend to underserved regions. New Mexico, Maine, the Pacific Northwest, Montana—areas with smaller but growing Black populations deserve options beyond traditional centers. These schools serve dual purposes: providing excellent education to local Black families and attracting families willing to relocate for access to elite Black institutions.

Boarding schools, given their residential nature and focus on high school, can be even more geographically flexible. A boarding school in rural Vermont or coastal Oregon can draw students nationally, serving families across the country who choose that educational model for grades 9-12.

Each school—whether day or boarding—should partner with one or more HBCUs through strategic regional arrangements. For instance, Atlanta’s day schools could partner with Spelman, Morehouse, Clark Atlanta, and Morris Brown. A boarding school in Texas could be triangulated between Prairie View A&M, Texas Southern, Grambling, and Southern University, with all four institutions sharing governance and pipeline responsibilities.

This distributed partnership model offers several advantages. HBCU faculty from multiple institutions would serve on academic boards, bringing diverse expertise while ensuring curriculum rigor and alignment with college expectations. Students would have guaranteed pathways to any partner HBCU, expanding their options beyond a single institution. College students from partner HBCUs could supplement as residential advisors and tutors, gaining education experience while strengthening connections between institutions.

However, to truly compete with the Eight Schools Association, these boarding schools must recruit PhD-level faculty and coaches—the same caliber of talent that elite institutions employ. Science competition teams need coaches with doctoral degrees in their fields, not just enthusiasm. Mathematics programs require faculty who’ve published research and understand competition mathematics at the highest levels. Computer science teams need instructors with industry and academic credentials. The Eight Schools Association succeeds because they pay top dollar for elite talent; Black boarding schools must do the same, offering competitive salaries that attract the best minds to teach and coach our students.

These K-12 institutions cannot be dependent on HBCU facilities or resources. To truly compete with elite independent schools, they must build and maintain their own infrastructure and secure their own endowments. Each elite day school should target minimum endowments of $50-100 million. Each boarding school should aim for $100-200 million. These endowments ensure financial sustainability, enable need-blind admissions, support competitive faculty salaries, and provide unlimited resources for student opportunities. HBCU partnerships provide crucial academic connections and pipeline benefits, but the K-12 institutions themselves must stand as independently powerful schools capable of competing with the best in America.

For this ecosystem to succeed, competition excellence cannot be an extracurricular afterthought—it must be embedded in institutional DNA from day one. Every school in the network should mandate that students participate in at least one major STEM competition annually. This normalization is critical. When competition participation becomes expected rather than exceptional, students prepare differently, families support differently, and results follow.

Consider what this looks like in practice at an elite Black day school serving Pre-K through 12. Elementary students (grades 3-5) participate in regional Science Olympiad divisions, Math Kangaroo, and Lego robotics competitions. Middle schoolers (grades 6-8) compete in MATHCOUNTS, Science Bowl, National History Day, and American Computer Science League. High schoolers (grades 9-12) engage in USA Biology Olympiad, Chemistry Olympiad, Physics Olympiad, Congressional Debate, Model UN, and Intel Science Fair. Every student finds competitions aligned with their interests and abilities. The school’s culture celebrates competition success publicly and prominently—trophies in display cases, assemblies honoring winners, media coverage of achievements. Academic competition excellence becomes as central to institutional identity as athletics at traditional schools.

The network should also establish its own internal competitions. An annual Black Excellence Science Olympiad. A Black School Network MATHCOUNTS Championship. Computer science competitions exclusively for students in the pipeline. These internal competitions provide practice grounds while building institutional identity and healthy rivalry that elevates performance across all schools.

HBCU laboratory schools—at institutions like Alabama State University (which pioneered the model in 1920), Southern University, Florida A&M, Howard University, and North Carolina A&T—serve crucial roles in this ecosystem. Virginia’s recent incorporation of laboratory schools at Virginia Union University and Virginia State University shows continued commitment to the model. These schools can serve as proof-of-concept institutions, demonstrating what’s possible when Black schools receive adequate resources and maintain rigorous competition programming. Their success provides templates for independent day schools to replicate. A laboratory school that sends students to national Science Olympiad championships proves the model works; independent schools can study their methods and adapt them.

Laboratory schools should also function as regional hubs, establishing partnerships with at least five majority-Black schools in their areas. They share competition resources, coaching expertise, and best practices, elevating the entire region’s performance while identifying top talent. Southern University Lab School partners with New Orleans-area Black schools. FAMU’s developmental research school does the same in Florida. Howard Middle School anchors D.C.-area networks. This hub-and-spoke model accelerates ecosystem development beyond the schools the network directly controls. Within five years, hundreds of majority-Black schools have competition programming that didn’t exist before, creating a rising tide that lifts all boats.

None of this happens without resources, and HBCU alumni must lead the investment. Every HBCU has thousands of successful graduates—doctors, engineers, lawyers, business owners—who could fund this institutional development. The goal isn’t charity but investment in infrastructure that strengthens the entire Black community. Alumni funding priorities should include capitalizing day school construction in major metropolitan areas nationwide, establishing minimum $50-100 million endowments for each day school to ensure sustainability, endowing boarding school scholarships so talented students can attend regardless of family income, funding PhD-level faculty recruitment with competitive salary packages, constructing world-class facilities—laboratories, libraries, makerspaces, athletic complexes—that rival elite independent schools, and creating venture capital funds that support businesses founded by network graduates.

The Eight Schools Association’s power derives largely from alumni commitment. Exeter’s endowment exceeds $1.5 billion. Andover’s tops $1.3 billion. These resources enable need-blind admission, world-class faculty recruitment, and unlimited opportunities for students. Black schools need similar commitments scaled appropriately. What if Spelman and Morehouse alumni collectively committed $200 million to establish three elite Black day schools in Atlanta? What if Howard University graduates funded two D.C.-area day schools with combined endowments of $150 million? These numbers are achievable when alumni understand they’re not donating to charity but investing in institutional power that will serve generations.

Regional alumni coalitions should form specifically to capitalize schools in their areas. The Texas HBCU Alumni Coalition funds schools in Houston and Dallas. The Midwest HBCU Coalition establishes schools in Chicago and Detroit. The Southeast Coalition covers Atlanta, Charlotte, and Memphis. This regional approach creates ownership and ensures schools reflect their communities’ needs.

While building new elite institutions is essential, the network must also elevate existing Black private schools and support majority-Black public schools in developing competition cultures. Not every Black school can or should become a boarding institution, but every Black school can raise its educational rigor and competition participation. The network should establish a tiered certification system. Tier One schools meet the highest standards—PhD faculty, comprehensive competition programming, world-class facilities, and proven track records of sending students to top competitions and HBCUs as elite scholars. Tier Two schools are developing toward these standards with network support. Tier Three schools are beginning the journey, receiving mentorship and resources from established institutions.

This certification creates aspirational goals while providing roadmaps for schools at different development stages. A small Black private school in Birmingham might begin as Tier Three, receiving coaching expertise and competition funding from the network. Within five years, they achieve Tier Two status. Within a decade, they’re Tier One, competing nationally and serving as a regional hub themselves. The network succeeds not only by building new schools but by elevating all Black schools toward excellence. Every student in a majority-Black school—whether public, private, or laboratory school—should have access to competition programming, rigorous academics, and pathways to HBCUs and beyond.

The ultimate goal transcends competition trophies and college admissions. This ecosystem should produce a generation of Black scientists, engineers, and entrepreneurs who build institutions, create wealth, and invest back into the network that developed them. A student who attends an elite Black day school from Pre-K through 12, earns a degree from an HBCU, and then receives seed funding from the network’s venture capital arm to launch a tech company—that’s the full pipeline. Ten years later, that founder endows scholarships at their alma maters and hires exclusively from the network. This is how generational wealth builds and how communities transform economically.

The competition focus matters because STEM competitions lead to STEM careers, which offer the highest salaries and most secure employment in the American economy. But the jobs aren’t enough. The network must produce business owners, not just employees. Laboratory directors, not just lab technicians. University presidents, not just professors. The institutional ecosystem must aim for complete economic sovereignty. Black-owned research laboratories should hire preferentially from network schools. Black engineering firms should recruit from HBCU programs fed by network pipelines. Black investment funds should capitalize businesses founded by network graduates. This closed-loop system ensures wealth circulates within the Black community, building generational prosperity.

The vision is clear, but visions don’t implement themselves. This ecosystem requires institutional leadership with the authority, resources, and commitment to coordinate across decades. The answer must be a new entity—a Black Educational Excellence Consortium governed by a coalition of HBCU presidents, major HBCU alumni association leaders, Black philanthropists, and representatives from the four remaining boarding schools. This consortium would function similarly to how the Eight Schools Association coordinates among its members, but with broader scope covering day schools, boarding schools, and laboratory schools.

The consortium’s core responsibilities would include establishing and enforcing network standards and the tiered certification system, coordinating capital campaigns and alumni fundraising across regions, recruiting and vetting PhD-level faculty and leadership for new schools, managing the network-wide competition circuit and celebrating achievements, administering the venture capital fund for graduate entrepreneurs, ensuring HBCU partnership agreements are formalized and beneficial to all parties, and providing technical assistance to schools at all development tiers.

This consortium cannot be housed within a single HBCU—it must be an independent 501(c)(3) with its own board, staff, and budget. However, HBCUs should hold majority governance positions, ensuring the pipeline serves their institutional interests. Initial capitalization of the consortium itself would require $25-50 million to establish offices, hire expert staff, and begin coordinating the network’s development. Regional chapters of the consortium would operate in major areas—the Southeast Chapter, Texas Chapter, Midwest Chapter, West Coast Chapter—each responsible for school development in their territories. These chapters would be staffed by education experts, fundraisers, and facilities planners who understand both K-12 education and HBCU pipelines. The consortium model solves the coordination problem. Without it, well-meaning but disconnected efforts will struggle. With it, alumni know where to direct resources, new schools follow proven models, and the ecosystem develops strategically rather than haphazardly.

With leadership structure established, building this ecosystem requires coordinated action across a decade. Year one should focus on stabilizing and expanding the four remaining Black boarding schools with immediate capital infusions, launching five elite Black day schools in major metropolitan areas with full capitalization and endowments, and establishing formal partnerships between all K-12 institutions and nearby HBCUs. Year two should expand competition programming at all HBCU laboratory schools with PhD-level coaching staffs, launch ten additional elite day schools in strategic regions nationwide, and create the first network-wide competition circuit exclusively for member institutions.

By year three, the network should establish tiered certification for all participating Black schools, regardless of founding date, launch the first network venture capital fund for graduate entrepreneurs, and open five new boarding schools in geographically diverse locations. Year four should scale to thirty total elite day schools and ten boarding schools, establish PhD faculty recruitment pipelines specifically for network schools, and create comprehensive summer programs where students from all network schools can access intensive competition preparation. Finally, year five should see the graduation of the first full cohorts who experienced elementary through high school entirely within network institutions, the achievement of national competition championships by multiple network schools, and network endowments exceeding $2 billion collectively across all institutions.

Within a decade, this network produces tens of thousands of Black students annually receiving world-class education, wins national competition championships regularly, feeds HBCUs with exceptionally prepared students, and becomes self-sustaining through graduate giving and economic activity. The Eight Schools Association took over a century to build their institutional power. With strategic focus and adequate resources, the Black K-12-to-HBCU pipeline can achieve comparable influence in a fraction of that time.

The civil rights movement fought for integration, and those battles were necessary. But sixty years later, the results are mixed. Majority-Black schools face disproportionate closure. Black students in predominantly white institutions navigate isolation and microaggressions. The promise that integration would provide equal access has proven incomplete. The path forward isn’t abandoning integration but building powerful alternatives—Black-controlled institutions that offer excellence on our terms. When the Eight Schools Association sets standards, they do so for their community’s benefit. When they build pipelines to Ivy League schools, they’re securing their children’s futures. African Americans deserve the same institutional sovereignty.

This ecosystem—day schools, boarding schools, laboratory schools, HBCUs, research labs, businesses—creates options. A Black student should be able to receive world-class education from Pre-K through doctoral degree entirely within Black institutions, if they choose. That choice currently doesn’t exist at scale. Building it is the work. The competition focus is merely the entry point—a measurable goal that drives institutional development. But the vision extends far beyond Science Olympiad trophies. It’s about creating an ecosystem where Black excellence is systematically produced, celebrated, and leveraged to build generational wealth and institutional power.

Our children deserve day schools and boarding schools as prestigious as Exeter and Andover—schools that are ours. They deserve laboratory schools as innovative as the most progressive independent schools—schools that feed into our universities. They deserve competition networks as robust as any in America—networks that celebrate Black achievement unapologetically. The infrastructure exists in fragments. The model is proven. What’s required now is collective commitment—alumni investment, HBCU leadership, and community support to build an ecosystem of Black educational excellence that rivals any in the world. Not for integration into existing power structures, but to establish our own. Not just for high school, but from the earliest years through college and career. Not just for the few who can access boarding schools, but for the many who need excellent day schools in their communities. The time for this work is now. The resources exist. The need is urgent. Let’s build.

Disclaimer: This article was assisted by ClaudeAI.

Giving Back to Those Who Give: How HBCU Communities Can Support Their Alumni Teachers

The drums of Africa still beat in my heart. They will not let me rest while there is a single Negro boy or girl without a chance to prove his worth. – Mary McLeod Bethune

Every day, thousands of HBCU alumni stand in front of classrooms across America, shaping young minds and breaking cycles of poverty through education. These teachers carry forward the legacy of their alma maters, often working in the nation’s most underfunded schools with the fewest resources. Yet too often, they do so without the support of the very communities that benefited from similar dedication during their own educational journeys.

The numbers tell a powerful story. As of this writing, 1,690 HBCU alumni are actively seeking support on DonorsChoose, the popular crowdfunding platform for classroom projects. These aren’t outliers. They represent a significant cross-section of HBCU graduates who chose the noble, challenging profession of teaching. What’s more striking is where they teach and the conditions they face: 1,661 of them work in historically underfunded schools. That’s 98% of HBCU alumni teachers on the platform working in institutions starved of adequate resources.

The funding gap these teachers navigate is staggering. Of the 1,690 HBCU alumni teachers, 1,202 have projects with zero donations. They’ve submitted requests for books, supplies, technology, and basic classroom materials, and they’re waiting for someone to care enough to help. Additionally, 182 have never received funding for any project they’ve ever posted. These are educators who have repeatedly asked for support and been met with silence. Perhaps most telling: 1,555 teach in schools where more than half of students come from low-income households, the same communities many HBCUs were founded to serve.

HBCU alumni entering the teaching profession isn’t coincidental; it’s part of a rich tradition. Historically Black Colleges and Universities were established with a mission to educate those who had been systematically excluded from higher education. Many HBCUs began as teacher training institutions, recognizing that education would be the key to Black advancement and self-determination. Schools like Bennett College, Miles College, Tuskegee University, and Wiley University produced generations of teachers who returned to their communities to educate the next generation.

This tradition continues today. HBCU graduates are more likely than their peers from other institutions to teach in high-need schools, to work with predominantly African American student populations, and to stay in the profession despite its challenges. They bring cultural competence, high expectations, and a deep understanding of the systemic barriers their students face. They are, in many ways, continuing the work their institutions started: creating pathways to opportunity through education.

Yet the schools where they teach are chronically underfunded. Decades of inequitable school funding formulas, property tax-based education systems, and discriminatory resource allocation have created a two-tiered education system. HBCU alumni teachers often find themselves purchasing classroom supplies out of pocket, fundraising for basic necessities, and making impossible choices about which students get access to which resources.

There’s a moral imperative for HBCU alumni, families, organizations, and associations to support their fellow graduates who have chosen teaching. These educators are extending the mission of HBCUs into K-12 classrooms. When an HBCU alumna teaching third grade needs books for her classroom library, she’s doing the work of literacy development that HBCUs have championed for over a century. When an HBCU alumnus teaching high school chemistry needs lab equipment, he’s preparing the next generation of STEM professionals, many of whom will attend HBCUs themselves.

Supporting HBCU alumni teachers is also an investment in community wealth-building. Education remains one of the most reliable paths to economic mobility. The students these teachers serve are disproportionately Black and brown children from low-income families. Quality education, with adequate resources, can break cycles of poverty. When we fund a classroom project for an HBCU graduate teaching in Detroit, Atlanta, or rural Mississippi, we’re investing in future engineers, doctors, teachers, and leaders.

Moreover, there’s a pragmatic networking advantage. The HBCU community is uniquely positioned to support its own. Alumni associations already have infrastructure for giving. Fraternities and sororities have national reach and local chapters. HBCU families understand the value of these institutions and want to see their impact multiplied. By channeling even a fraction of philanthropic dollars toward HBCU alumni teachers, these networks can create measurable change in thousands of classrooms.

Supporting HBCU alumni teachers doesn’t require massive institutional change or million-dollar commitments, though those would certainly help. It starts with awareness and intentionality. There are concrete steps HBCU communities can take, starting with funding classroom projects on DonorsChoose. The platform makes it easy to search for HBCU alumni teachers. Alumni associations can create giving campaigns around Homecoming, Founders’ Day, or Giving Tuesday specifically to fund projects by graduates. A $50 donation can purchase books for a classroom library. A $200 donation can buy tablets for student learning. A $500 donation can transform a science lab. Individual alumni can adopt a teacher from their alma mater and commit to funding their projects annually.

Beyond direct funding, HBCU communities can create mentorship and professional development opportunities. Many HBCU alumni teachers work in isolation, without access to the kind of collegial support and professional growth opportunities their non-HBCU peers enjoy. Alumni associations can host virtual meetups, share teaching resources, or create affinity groups for teachers by subject area or grade level. Greek organizations can leverage their networks to connect teachers across cities and states. Experienced educators can mentor early-career teachers, helping them navigate challenges and avoid burnout.

Amplifying voices and celebrating work matters too. Social media campaigns highlighting HBCU alumni teachers, their innovative classroom practices, and their students’ achievements can build awareness and attract support. Alumni magazines can feature teacher profiles. Homecoming events can honor outstanding educators. This recognition matters not just for morale but for retention. Teaching is hard, underpaid work, and feeling seen and valued by one’s community makes a difference.

Perhaps most importantly, HBCU communities should support organizations that support teachers systemically. The Black Teacher Collaborative, an HBCU-founded and led organization, exemplifies this approach. Founded by educators from HBCUs, the Collaborative works to increase the number of Black teachers, improve their working conditions, and elevate their leadership in education policy. Supporting organizations like the Black Teacher Collaborative multiplies impact. They provide professional development, advocacy, research, and community-building that individual donations to classroom projects cannot. They work systemically to address the conditions that force teachers to crowdfund for basic supplies.

The Black Teacher Collaborative’s team brings deep expertise in teacher preparation, retention, and advocacy. They understand the unique challenges HBCU graduates face in the teaching profession and the unique assets they bring. Supporting such organizations isn’t charity; it’s strategic investment in educational equity and teacher empowerment.

While individual and organizational philanthropy is crucial, the root problem is systemic underfunding of public schools, particularly those serving low-income students and African American students. HBCU alumni, with their networks and influence, can advocate for equitable school funding formulas, increased teacher salaries, and policies that support rather than burden classroom teachers. Alumni associations and Greek organizations can engage in collective advocacy, using their political capital to push for the structural changes that would make teacher crowdfunding unnecessary.

Creating sustained support for HBCU alumni teachers requires more than one-off donations or awareness campaigns. It requires building a culture where supporting educators is seen as central to the HBCU mission, not peripheral to it. Alumni associations can integrate teacher support into their annual giving programs. Greek organizations can make teacher appreciation a national initiative. HBCU families can include teachers in their philanthropic planning.

This culture shift starts with storytelling. When alumni share why they support teachers, they inspire others. When teachers share how support has transformed their classrooms, they make the impact tangible. When students whose lives have been changed speak up, they close the loop. These stories, shared widely and often, create momentum. It also requires accountability. Alumni associations and organizations should set goals: How many teacher projects will we fund this year? How many teachers will we mentor? How much will we donate to organizations like the Black Teacher Collaborative? Tracking progress and reporting results keeps teacher support visible and valued.

Supporting HBCU alumni teachers is about more than helping individuals; it’s about sustaining a tradition and building a movement. HBCUs have always been about uplift, not just of individuals but of entire communities. When we support teachers, we honor that legacy. We ensure that the next generation has access to educators who see their brilliance, understand their context, and refuse to let resource scarcity limit their potential.

The 1,690 HBCU alumni on DonorsChoose represent thousands more working in schools across the country. They are the inheritors of a tradition that goes back to the founding of HBCUs themselves. They deserve our support, our celebration, and our partnership. The question is not whether we can afford to support them but whether we can afford not to.

The call to action is clear: HBCU alumni, log onto DonorsChoose and fund a project. HBCU families, talk to your children about the importance of supporting educators. HBCU organizations, make teacher support a strategic priority. Greek letter organizations, mobilize your networks for collective impact. And everyone, support HBCU-founded organizations like the Black Teacher Collaborative that are working for systemic change.

Our alumni teachers are out there every day, doing the work HBCUs prepared them to do. It’s time we showed up for them the way they show up for their students. It’s time we invested in those who are investing in our future. It’s time we gave back to those who give so much.

Disclaimer: This article was assisted by ClaudeAI.

While Howard Is Chasing Harvard, What Public HBCUs Are Chasing UTIMCO?

“I make no apology for the love of competition.” – John Harbaugh

In the world of higher education finance, few numbers turn heads quite like endowment size. It is the ultimate scoreboard for institutional power—a metric that signals not only a university’s wealth but also its capacity to shape research, drive innovation, support students, and influence national policy. In this rarefied air, Howard University has made history, becoming the first Historically Black College or University (HBCU) to surpass the $1 billion endowment mark. According to HBCU Money’s 2024 rankings, Howard’s endowment now stands at $1.03 billion.

Spelman College, long regarded as Howard’s fiercest private competitor, received a record-setting $100 million donation in 2023. Yet even with that windfall, its endowment reached $506.7 million—leaving it more than $500 million behind Howard. Nevertheless, Spelman’s donor base remains one of the strongest in Black higher education, and it may still overtake Howard in the race to $2 billion. But the $1 billion baton has already been passed.

If Howard is chasing Harvard, and Spelman is setting its sights on Yale, then who among public HBCUs dares to chase the Goliath of public university endowments—UTIMCO?

The Silent Behemoth in Texas

UTIMCO—the University of Texas/Texas A&M Investment Management Company—is not just large; it is colossal. As of 2024, UTIMCO manages a staggering $64.3 billion in assets across the University of Texas and Texas A&M university systems. That figure is nearly $15 billion more than Harvard’s own endowment and more than three times the size of the second-largest public university endowment at the University of Michigan.

This financial empire is largely invisible to the public eye. Few outside of elite Texas financial and political circles are even aware of UTIMCO’s existence, let alone its scale. It quietly funds a wide spectrum of research, real estate development, and private equity plays that influence state and national agendas.

If an HBCU—or group of HBCUs—is ever to rival that level of public endowment control, it will not happen by accident. It must be built. And it will most likely be built collectively.

HBCUs and the Endowment Gap

The endowment disparity between HBCUs and Predominantly White Institutions (PWIs) has been well-documented. HBCUs represent around 3% of America’s colleges, yet account for less than 1% of total U.S. endowment wealth. According to a McKinsey report, HBCUs would need $12.5 billion in incremental funding to achieve endowment parity with similarly sized PWIs.

While private HBCUs like Howard and Spelman appear to be making some headway, public HBCUs remain largely behind. Most of them are tethered to state systems that have historically underfunded them and which rarely—if ever—extend the full benefits of their system-wide endowment strategies.

Consider the University of North Carolina System. It includes North Carolina A&T, the largest HBCU by enrollment, and North Carolina Central University. Yet both institutions have endowments under $200 million. Meanwhile, UNC Chapel Hill boasts an endowment exceeding $5.4 billion. Similarly, Florida A&M University has an endowment of less than $200 million, while the University of Florida’s soars above $2 billion.

The Case for a Public HBCU Endowment Challenger

In identifying a public HBCU capable of mounting a challenge to UTIMCO’s financial supremacy, the most promising strategy does not lie in the strength of one institution—but in the collective power of several. States that are home to multiple public HBCUs present the most viable path to establishing a unified, independently managed investment entity that can leverage scale, pooled capital, and institutional collaboration.

Virginia, Alabama, Georgia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Mississippi all house two or more public HBCUs, each with proud legacies and strategic regional influence. A coordinated financial framework across these schools could form the foundation of a “Black UTIMCO”—a professionally managed, state-based consortium endowment capable of rivaling small PWI systems in both return and influence.

The most likely candidates must share a few key characteristics:

  1. State-Level Endowment Consortium Model – States with two or more public HBCUs, such as Virginia (Virginia State, Norfolk State), Georgia (Albany State, Fort Valley State, Savannah State), or Alabama (Alabama A&M, Alabama State), are uniquely positioned to pioneer a collective endowment strategy. Rather than relying on marginal support from broader university systems, these HBCUs could form a joint investment vehicle modeled on UTIMCO—pooling their endowments under a professionally managed, independent investment company. Such a fund would enable economies of scale, competitive asset management, and unified long-term planning, boosting their ability to generate investment alpha and philanthropic leverage.
  2. Flagship Status Among HBCUs – Institutions with strong alumni networks, national reputations, and federal research capabilities are better positioned to attract major philanthropy.
  3. Strategic Location – HBCUs located in fast-growing economic zones can leverage regional corporate ties for private partnerships.

However, creating such a financial architecture is not purely a technical endeavor. It is inherently political—and often fraught with social resistance.

The Political Geography of Resistance

Many of the states that host multiple public HBCUs are governed by conservative legislatures and state boards of regents that have long resisted equitable funding for Black institutions. Despite proclamations about diversity, equity, and inclusion, these power structures often withhold support from Black-led entities that could challenge traditional hierarchies.

  • Alabama, with Alabama State and Alabama A&M, underfunded its HBCUs by over $527 million between 1987 and 2020, according to the U.S. Department of Education.
  • Georgia’s consolidation of HBCUs like Albany State into broader system structures has often diluted their financial and governance autonomy.
  • Mississippi has repeatedly neglected basic infrastructure and funding needs at its three public HBCUs—Jackson State, Alcorn State, and Mississippi Valley State—despite allocating surpluses elsewhere. It is also no secret that Mississippi has purposely constructed a singular board of trustees for all of its public higher education institutions across the state with Ole Miss and Mississippi State unabashedly dominating the board.

Even in Virginia, perceived as more moderate, a move by Virginia State University and Norfolk State to pool their endowments might be seen as too bold a play in a state that still subtly resists Black institutional consolidation.

Social Impediments and Institutional Fragmentation

Beyond politics, there are intra-HBCU dynamics that complicate collaboration. These institutions have historically been forced to compete for scraps, which can breed a zero-sum mentality. Trustees, alumni, and administrations often prefer complete local control over modest assets rather than shared governance over substantial ones.

Convincing institutions to pool their endowments requires cultural alignment and a long-term vision of shared prosperity. Donors, too, may resist giving to multi-institutional funds, preferring the emotional appeal of a singular alma mater.

Nonetheless, this mindset must change. The math is clear: five public HBCUs each contributing $100 million can produce a $500 million investment base. That scale opens doors to private equity, hedge funds, and other vehicles that outperform the conservative allocations typically used by smaller institutional portfolios.

Institutions Poised for Leadership

  • North Carolina A&T State University, with an endowment of $201.9 million, remains the largest public HBCU endowment. With deep ties to tech and defense industries, it has both alumni momentum and industry leverage.
  • Florida A&M University, despite setbacks surrounding its pledged $237 million donation, has an official endowment of $124.1 million and stands to benefit immensely from partnership with institutions like Bethune-Cookman or Edward Waters.
  • Virginia State University and Norfolk State University, with $96.5 million and $88.2 million respectively, could combine to form the financial cornerstone of a Virginia HBCU Investment Company—managing nearly $185 million in assets at inception.

The Need for a “Black UTIMCO”

Rather than wait for state systems to share the wealth equitably, some in the HBCU policy space are advocating for the creation of a consortium endowment fund — a kind of “Black UTIMCO.” This collective endowment manager would pool assets from willing HBCUs, allowing them to negotiate better investment terms, lower fees, and generate alpha through scale.

Such an initiative would require governance innovation, donor transparency, and trust between institutions that are often underfunded and overburdened. But it may be the only viable path forward for public HBCUs to compete against mega-managers like UTIMCO, MITIMCo, or the Yale Investments Office.

A $5 billion consortium fund, even divided across 25 HBCUs, would be transformational. It could fund scholarships, capital improvements, faculty chairs, and technology upgrades, while giving HBCUs the financial leverage to attract major federal research grants.

A New Competitive Mindset

In American higher education, the metaphorical arms race is very real. Endowments are the stockpiles. Harvard and Yale are the gold standard in the private arena. UTIMCO is the titan in the public sector. And HBCUs, despite their contributions to Black excellence, continue to be locked out of the upper tier.

John Harbaugh’s quote about competition resonates because it points to a deeper truth: love of competition does not require parity at the outset, only the will to chase. Howard is in the final lap toward $1 billion, setting a new bar for Black institutional capital. Spelman may outdistance them on the next lap to $2 billion. But in the public sphere, the silence is deafening.

Where is the public HBCU that dares to dream of beating Michigan, surpassing UNC, or even challenging UTIMCO?

The Race Begins with Vision

Howard is chasing Harvard. Spelman is perhaps chasing Yale.

But no single public HBCU can chase UTIMCO. The scale is too vast, the machinery too entrenched, and the rules too uneven.

What public HBCUs can do, however, is combine. They can look across their borders, past their rivals, and toward a shared future. They can imagine a world where collective African American endowment power reshapes not just education, but the broader economy and policy landscape.

It is not a failure of ambition that no public HBCU has reached $1 billion. It is a failure of coordination and imagination.

The first African American UTIMCO will not be built by a single school. It will be built by a desire for compeition. A desire to win.

A Merger of (Potential) Might: Why Prairie View A&M and Texas Southern Should Combine Their Foundations to Challenge the Endowment Establishment

It is reason, and not passion, which must guide our deliberations, guide our debate, and guide our decision. – Barbara Jordan

In the gilded halls of America’s elite universities, financial firepower is both a symbol and source of dominance. Endowments—the great silent engines of academia—determine not only which students get scholarships but which schools can recruit Nobel-calibre faculty, fund original research, and shape public policy. At the apex of this order stands UTIMCO, the University of Texas and Texas A&M’s investment juggernaut, with more than $70 billion under management. Below, far below, exist the undercapitalised yet ambitious Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) of Texas.

Two of the state’s largest HBCUs—Prairie View A&M University (PVAMU) and Texas Southern University (TSU)—have long histories, loyal alumni, and vital missions. What they do not have is institutional wealth. PVAMU’s foundation reported a modest $1.83 million in net assets in 2022. TSU’s foundation, better capitalised, holds $22.7 million. Combined, that amounts to just $24.5 million. For comparison, Rice University, less than 50 miles from either campus, holds an endowment north of $7.8 billion.

That yawning disparity matters. But it also presents an opportunity: a merger of the two foundations into a single, more potent philanthropic and investment entity. Done properly, it could reorient how Black higher education competes—not by appealing to fairness or guilt, but through scale, strategy, and institutional force.

A Rebalancing Act

To understand the potential of a PVAMU-TSU foundation merger, one must first grasp the dynamics of university endowments. Large endowments benefit from economies of scale, granting them access to exclusive investment opportunities—private equity, venture capital, hedge funds—often unavailable to smaller players. They attract the best fund managers, demand lower fees, and can weather market volatility without compromising their missions. Small foundations, by contrast, tend to be conservatively invested, costly to manage per dollar, and too fragmented to punch above their weight.

A consolidated HBCU foundation in Texas would be small compared to UTIMCO, but large relative to its peers. With a $25 million corpus as a starting point, the new entity could position itself for growth by professionalising its investment strategy, adopting a more ambitious donor engagement plan, and forming partnerships with Black-owned banks, family offices, and community institutions. Call it the Texas Black Excellence Fund, or perhaps, more simply, the TexHBCU Endowment.

To be sure, the legal and logistical barriers to such a merger are real. Foundation boards guard their autonomy jealously. Alumni pride can turn parochial. Governance models would need careful negotiation to ensure representation and avoid turf wars. But the arguments in favour are compelling.

The Power of One

First, a merger would cut overhead. Legal, accounting, auditing, and compliance costs—duplicated today—could be streamlined. A joint fundraising apparatus could create a single point of entry for corporate partners and high-net-worth donors. Branding efforts would gain coherence: instead of competing for attention, the institutions would stand together as a symbol of Black institutional unity and strength.

Second, scale invites leverage. A $25 million foundation cannot change the world overnight, but it can attract co-investments, engage in pooled funds, and perhaps even launch a purpose-driven asset management firm in the model of UTIMCO. If successful, this would be the first Black-led institutional investor of serious size in Texas—capable not only of managing endowment funds but of influencing broader economic flows across Black Texas.

Third, the merger would send a strategic signal to policymakers and philanthropic networks. It would say, in effect: “We are no longer asking for permission to grow. We are building the engine ourselves.” That tone matters. Too often, HBCUs are framed as needing rescue. A merged foundation flips that narrative. It becomes an asset allocator, a market participant, a builder of capital rather than a petitioner of it.

UTIMCO: A Goliath in the Crosshairs?

No one expects a $25 million fund to challenge a $70 billion behemoth. But that is not the point. UTIMCO’s dominance is as much political as it is financial. Its influence flows from its role as gatekeeper to resources, shaping everything from campus architecture to graduate fellowships. The merged HBCU foundation would not dethrone UTIMCO—it would decentralise power by becoming a second pole.

Indeed, the comparison may inspire mimicry. Just as UTIMCO serves multiple institutions, so too could a joint HBCU foundation. Prairie View and Texas Southern are only the beginning. Over time, the model could scale to include other Black-serving institutions across Texas and the South. This would amplify investment impact and accelerate institutional wealth-building.

Moreover, such a foundation could adopt an unapologetically developmental investment strategy. Where UTIMCO optimises for returns, the TexHBCU fund could optimise for both returns and racial equity—by investing in Black entrepreneurs, affordable housing, climate-resilient infrastructure, or educational tech. The dual mandate—profit and purpose—would not be a hindrance but a hallmark.

Regional Stakes

Prairie View sits on a rural hilltop. Texas Southern sprawls in urban Houston. But their communities are deeply connected—culturally, economically, demographically. A combined foundation could create regional development strategies that go beyond scholarship aid.

Imagine a venture fund seeding Black-owned start-ups in Houston’s Third Ward. A real estate initiative turning vacant lots into mixed-income housing for PVAMU students and local residents. A workforce development fund retraining returning citizens for green jobs across both cities. Each dollar invested becomes more than a balance sheet entry; it becomes a force for transformation.

This matters not just to students and faculty, but to the broader Texas economy. Black Texans make up 13% of the state population but own less than 3% of its small businesses. Educational attainment gaps persist. Institutional neglect deepens. The merger would not fix all this—but it would give the community a new tool for shaping its destiny.

Copy, Then Paste

If the model works, it would not stay in Texas. Southern University in Louisiana has multiple campuses and foundations that could benefit from consolidation. So does the University System of Maryland’s HBCUs. Indeed, the entire sector could adopt a federated endowment strategy—unified in purpose but distributed in governance.

HBCUs have long suffered from institutional atomisation. They are asked to compete individually in a system that rewards consolidation. Merging foundations is not just a finance play—it is a strategy for survival and sovereignty.

The Alternative: Stagnation

Critics may say a merger is too ambitious. That it risks alumni backlash or donor confusion. That it could take years to execute. But delay is itself a cost. Each year the foundations remain separate is another year of opportunity lost. Another year where millions in potential returns go unrealised. Another year where larger institutions deepen their lead.

PVAMU and TSU have histories to be proud of. But institutional pride must not become institutional inertia. A merger is not surrender—it is evolution.

In the long arc of higher education, moments of boldness define legacy. This is one of those moments. Two foundations. One future. Let the uniting begin.