The protracted conflict between New Orleans and its own education board is an example of the kind of bureaucratic feud that only makes sense if you understand the city in which it is occurring. The Orleans Parish School Board voted 6-1 on May 5 to resolve a long-running legal battle over funds that the city had been surreptitiously embezzling from school taxes. The City Council then voted unanimously. After four years of lawsuits, failed agreements, ordinances passed in violation of a mayor, and sincere hostility, the matter finally came to an end—not with much fanfare, but with a board president asking everyone to celebrate and be thankful.
Fundamentally, the disagreement was over fees. As is common for cities, the city collected sales and property taxes on behalf of the school board for years, taking a cut for the service. District attorneys said that these fees were not only exorbitant but also unlawful. Depending on whatever fees were taken into account, the figures that were discussed at different times ranged from about $8 million to $11 million annually. That is hardly a rounding error to a school district. Teachers, programs, and the unglamorous operating funds that keep classrooms functioning fall under this category. The board filed a lawsuit. Then, as is typically the case in New Orleans, politics took over.
The city ended up somewhat supporting the school board against itself, which was the most bizarre turn of events in the entire story. A settlement for over $20 million was announced back in November by council members and the chief of staff of then-Mayor LaToya Cantrell. Cantrell declined to sign two months later, claiming the city couldn’t afford it and that she hadn’t been informed about it.
In response, the council passed an ordinance prohibiting the collecting fees and joined the lawsuit alongside the school board. This move ignited the already toxic relationship between the mayor and the council, which had been going on for almost four years. The idea of a city council suing the administration of its own city on behalf of the school system seems absurd until you realize which city we are referring to.
A change in mayor was what altered the math. As a council member, Helena Moreno had backed the previous settlement that Cantrell destroyed, and she ran on a platform of stopping the city’s practice of skimming fees. Moreno began office in January 2026. The main barrier was eliminated by her entrance. All of a sudden, the legislative and executive branches had same goals, which meant that a deal could actually be signed instead of just declared and then shelved. As this develops, it’s difficult not to interpret the settlement more as the result of one person leaving office and another taking over than as a victory of negotiation.
It’s important to acknowledge that the parameters themselves are less ambitious than the previous $20 million+ version that collapsed. The city will completely remove the property tax fee and reduce its sales tax collection fee from roughly 1.6% to a strict 1.5% starting next year. Olin Parker, vice president of the board, estimated that each student would save around $150 annually—real money overall, but not significantly at the individual classroom level. Additionally, the agreement prevents the city from using school monies for its own pension obligations—a behavior that district attorneys considered particularly offensive. Additionally, starting in 2030, the Caesars casino lease will provide $4 million annually to the schools. Prior to the council’s progressive reallocation of funds, the money went through the Casino Fund.
No one on the school side wanted to focus on it for too long, which is why the settlement ended up being less than the one Cantrell rejected. The city of New Orleans is broke. Since assuming office, the Moreno administration has struggled with an estimated $220 million deficit, which makes it difficult for a city to issue big cheques to anyone, including its schools. “The city is broke — they’re having their own issues to deal with,” stated Leila Eames, head of the board. Let’s express our gratitude, excitement, and celebration.” That phrase has an almost heartbreaking pragmatism to it. Take what you can; the battle has lasted long enough, and a smaller, finalized agreement is preferable to a larger, hypothetical one that keeps falling apart.
The lone negative vote was KaTrina Chantelle Griffin, and even if we don’t fully understand her reasoning, we should respect her dissent. Voting against an otherwise overwhelming consensus on a board this size typically indicates that the district gave up influence it didn’t need to give up or settled for too little. That’s hardly an unreasonable stance to take, considering that the last planned agreement was worth more than twice the sum this one gives. The question of whether the board made a sober calculation about a financially stressed city or left money on the table won’t have a definitive resolution for years.
The thing that strikes me about this entire scenario is how much funding for public education is determined by these kinds of unglamorous, procedural disputes: fees, methods of collection, and who maintains the float on tax revenue between collection and disbursement. It doesn’t make for interesting television. Whether a classroom in Gentilly or Algiers has what it needs depends on all of this.
The settlement resolves a disagreement that resulted in years of litigation and a significant amount of political energy over what is ultimately a fee structure. Regardless of whether it was the wisest option, the outcome is likely appreciated by the students whose financing depended on it but were not involved in the conflict. At last, the adults ceased to quarrel. Even in a place where debating is virtually a civic custom, that counts for something.
