The bureaucratic earthquake that could’ve been a WhatsApp status

O

nce upon a time (specifically, last week Tuesday), the Trump administration looked at the US Department of Education, sighed deeply, and said: “Congratulations! You’re the lucky winner of an all-expenses-paid relocation to the Department of Labor’s basement.” And just like that, America’s youngest cabinet agency (born 1979, died 2025, survived by a thriving population of three-ring binders and #2 pencils) woke up to discover that its fate was to be quietly downgraded to a footnote.

The Trump administration officially began dismantling the Department of Education this week, a campaign promise that has hovered in Republican mythology for decades, usually appearing to voters in the wild only once every four years and fleeing when approached.

The administration’s big move is deceptively simple: Take the largest office inside the Department of Education, load it onto a metaphorical U-Haul, and drive it to the Department of Labor, without changing a single comma. If this were a sleepaway camp, it would be like moving the whole sports department into the infirmary because “that’s where most of them end up.” And if that sounds anticlimactic, that’s because it literally is.

To understand what happened and why it somehow affects nothing and everything simultaneously, we journeyed to two places: The White House briefing room, where Education Secretary Linda McMahon delivered the calmest eulogy in federal history, and Lakewood, New Jersey, where Assemblyman Avi Schnall serves as New Jersey’s unofficial Department of Education interpreter for the frum oilam.

What does it actually mean for the federal government to dismantle the Department of Education? Will this reset cause complications for schools? Does this historic reform change anything for parents, teachers, or schools? And can a federal agency be both alive and dead at the same time?

After raising my hand, asking questions, and taking notes, here’s what I’ve discovered.

Secretary McMahon calls this “The decisive step toward ending federal micromanagement of education,” which is Beltway code for: “We’ve unplugged the computer and plugged it back in somewhere else.” As the secretary points out, “The Department of Education doesn’t teach a single student,” which is true, though it did teach states how to fill out paperwork about students, so credit where it’s due.

According to Avi Schnall, “People don’t need to do anything. It doesn’t have any effect as far as we know right now.” Basically, Washington just changed the label on the folder, not the papers inside it.

Title I (remedial support, tutoring, etc.)? Stays. Title II (teachers getting training so they can survive Gen Alpha)? Still here. Title III (ESL, multilingual programs, etc.)? Unchanged. Title IV (counseling, enrichment, after-school programming, and the school chess club)? Intact. Tutors, nurses, and the lunch lady? Exactly where you left them. Same money, same rules, same staff. So basically, the oilam may return to regular programming, already in progress.

Special education hasn’t moved yet. International programs are going to the Department of State. Campus child care is going to HHS. And more shifts may follow.

So why is Washington calling this “historic”? Because that’s what they call anything involving a podium and more than three binders.

But in fairness, there are actual policy reasons behind the reshuffling. First, Trump actually meant it when he said he’d shrink the department. This is the first White House in 45 years to look at the Department of Education and ask: “Do we need this?”

And so far, the answer has been trending toward: “Eh, not really.”

Furthermore, Labor’s systems seem to be functional. Shocking, I know. According to Secretary McMahon, the Department of Labor has more advanced technology and grant-fulfilling systems (as opposed to her own department which she describes as “held together with bubble gum”), which suggests that the smoothest way to upgrade the Department of Education may just be to downgrade it out of existence.

Perhaps most compelling is the fact that states are outperforming the federal government.

“We’re not directing them,” Secretary McMahon said, “They are informing us.” Which, if you think about it, explains the past 40 years of American education in one sentence. In other words, Washington spent four decades years trying to teach everyone how to teach, only to discover that Mississippi figured out how to read before the federal consultants did.

Finally, there’s symbolism, which in the era of Trump totally does matter. For our POTUS it’s all about promise made, promise kept, and we may all thank ourselves for our collective attention to this particular matter.

So, will this affect school choice or the federal scholarship program? Avi Schnall would like to state this clearly, for the record, for the oilam, and for anyone whose neighbor forwarded them a panicked voice note: NO. “The federal scholarship program is a Treasury program. It has nothing to do with Education. It remains one hundred percent intact.”

Even if Education shutters, Labor shutters, and the entire federal government plunges into a government-shutdown-induced existential crisis for some reason, the scholarship law remains untouched. Just like if Washington burned down tomorrow, the IRS would still find you, it’s the same thing with funds for your child’s tutoring. Treasury does not lose the paperwork; Treasury is the paperwork.

Aha. So what’s the catch?

Secretary McMahon and Assemblyman Schnall both admit that the practical impact is completely unknown. Since this hasn’t been done before, no one knows how smooth or chaotic the interagency migration will be.

I asked Schnall whether this move saves taxpayers money.

“Maybe we save money by renting out the empty office space?” he speculated.

So to sum it all up, everything continues exactly as before. Washington may be hosting a once-in-a-generation cabinet-level game of musical chairs, but the music hasn’t reached your child’s classroom.

At least not yet.

Maybe there’s a second phase coming. Maybe not. Maybe this is the beginning of the end for the federal education bureaucracy. Or maybe the Department of Education will continue to exist as a hallway closet in the Department of Labor until someone eventually asks, “Who left this agency here?”

For now, the Trump administration gets to claim a major restructuring victory, the states get more attention, and parents get to keep their services. And for any kids reading this, sorry that you had to find this out from me, but homework is still due tomorrow.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1088)