Youth are not the future of community schools–They are the architects of the movement

I began my Community Schools journey in 2009.

I remember reading the job description and thinking, I'm not exactly sure what community schools are, but this feels familiar–like I already knew the work. 

At the time, I couldn't explain why. The language was new to me, but the philosophy wasn't.

Long before I worked in community schools, I grew up in organizing spaces where young people were not viewed as recipients of services; they were leaders. Adults centered youth in everything they did. We facilitated pláticas, spoke at conferences, organized community events, and even delivered keynote addresses. The adults around me ranged from college students to longtime community elders. Each brought different experiences, but they all shared one belief: young people are capable of leading today, not someday, not some time in the future. Now.

Those spaces taught me lessons that no classroom ever could. They taught me that leadership is learned through trust. That belonging comes from being needed. That the best mentors don't speak for young people; they create opportunities for young people to speak for themselves.

Looking back, I realize those experiences were preparing me for community schools work before I even knew they existed.

And over the last seventeen years doing community schools work, one lesson has remained constant: whenever adults genuinely share power with students, schools become stronger.

The expert in the room was the student

One of the earliest examples came through a Youth Reentry Program designed to support students returning to school after time in juvenile detention.

The intention was good, but the work wasn't moving.

Representatives from schools, probation, community organizations, and public agencies met regularly to discuss how to improve reentry. Yet every meeting felt the same. Adults debated procedures, responsibilities, and policies while the conversation went in circles. There was clear miscommunication across agencies, but no one could identify why students continued falling through the cracks.

Then something changed.

A young person who had personally experienced the juvenile justice system joined the conversation. And within minutes, they explained what none of the adults had been able to see.

They described the confusion students experienced as they moved between agencies. They identified gaps in communication that left students disconnected from school. They explained how those breakdowns created frustration, isolation, and ultimately increased the likelihood that some young people would return to juvenile detention.

In one conversation, the student reframed months of adult discussion.

The person closest to the problem was also closest to the solution.

That experience forever changed how I think about youth engagement. Student voice isn't about inviting young people to validate adult ideas. It's about recognizing that lived experience is expertise.

Redefining who gets to be a leader

Too often, when schools talk about student leadership, we immediately think of traditional structures like the Associated Student Body.

While these organizations serve an important purpose, they often require high GPAs, teacher recommendations, or previous, more formal leadership experience. The same students are repeatedly invited into leadership spaces while others, students with tremendous influence and potential, are overlooked.

At Esteban E. Torres High School in East Los Angeles, our youth mentorship program intentionally challenged that model.

Instead of asking teachers to recommend their highest-achieving students, we asked a different question: "Who are the students that like to talk back, but still do their homework?"

We weren't looking for perfect students. We were looking for students who questioned systems, challenged adults, influenced their peers, and cared enough to speak up.

The group reflected the full diversity of the school community. Students who had never considered themselves leaders worked alongside students navigating neighborhood violence and gang affiliations. The first year was difficult. Daily fights were common, and building a positive school culture felt like an uphill battle. But rather than viewing these students as part of the problem, we invited them to become part of the solution. What are they experiencing? What do adults need to know about students’ day-to-day lives? What’s causing challenges, and what are their ideas for changes? 

Together, they designed freshman orientations that welcomed new students before they ever stepped onto campus. They organized resource fairs connecting families to community support. They strengthened college-going initiatives, mentored younger students, and created student-led activities that built belonging throughout the school year.

They didn't simply participate in school culture. They transformed it.

The experience taught me something I still carry today: leadership isn't something just for adults or something we discover in a select group of students. Leadership is something we cultivate when we create opportunities for young people to lead, no matter where they may be in their journey as human beings.

Community schools are measured in generations

One area where I believe the community schools field can continue to grow is how we define success. We often celebrate the immediate outcomes of our work: attendance, grades, participation rates, family engagement numbers, or survey results. Those measures matter, but they are only snapshots in time.

Community schools are not a one-year intervention. They are a long-term investment in people.

The students who were part of my earliest community school cohort are now adults. They are educators. Lawyers. Social workers. Community School Coordinators. Immigrant rights advocates. Civil engineers. Marketing directors. Parents raising the next generation. They are leading nonprofits, serving their communities, mentoring young people, and improving the very systems that once served them.

When I look at them, I don't see former program participants. I see the ripple effect of adults who believed in them early, trusted them with meaningful responsibility, and created spaces where they experienced belonging, purpose, and leadership.

That is the true impact of community schools.

Not simply improving report cards. Not simply increasing attendance. Not simply hosting another event.

Community schools change trajectories.

When we invest in youth leadership, we aren't just preparing students to navigate society as it exists today. We are preparing them to reshape the society they will inherit. Perhaps that's the shift our field still needs to make. Instead of asking, "what outcomes did students achieve this year?," maybe we should also ask, "who are our students becoming because of the opportunities we created with them?"

Because the greatest measure of community schools isn't found in a dashboard or an annual report.

It's found years later; in the educator who returns to teach in their neighborhood. In the attorney representing 2% of Latinas in the field. In the social worker supporting families. In the Community School Coordinator creating opportunities for the next generation.

Community schools are not simply preparing young people to survive society. They are cultivating the people who will transform it. And if we truly believe students are our partners, then youth voice isn't another strategy within community schools.

It is the heartbeat that makes the entire approach possible.

by Cristina Patricio

Cristina Patricio is a Community Schools Coach working out of the traditional lands of the Tongva, Chumash, and Tataviam Indigenous People in East Los Angeles and across L.A. County. She began her Community Schools journey 16 years ago, collaborating with school leaders and communities in South Los Angeles, Inglewood, the San Fernando Valley, and her hometown of East L.A. Today, she partners with district leaders across California and in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Cristina specializes in Community Schools implementation and development that elevates all educational partners while honoring lived experiences and culturally relevant approaches. She obtained her B.A. in Chicana/o Studies and History (2010) and her M.A. in Chicana/o Studies (2018) from California State University, Northridge, where she also serves as a part-time lecturer in the Chicana/o Studies Department.