California’s CEO Act: A Constitutional Test Case for School Choice
California’s Children’s Educational Opportunity (CEO) Act is a proposed statewide ballot measure for November 2026 that is currently gathering the required voter signatures to qualify. Led by former Thousand Oaks Mayor Kevin McNamee, it is positioned to become one of the most consequential school‑choice initiatives in the country, as well as a potential template for other states seeking durable education reform through their constitutions rather than ordinary legislation.
Supporters of the CEO Act begin with an indictment of California’s current K–12 performance: large numbers of 11th graders cannot read or do basic math proficiently, yet most still receive diplomas, and community colleges are forced to reteach core skills to recent graduates. This is happening even as the state spends roughly 149 billion dollars a year for all TK-12 education programs, which is a 60.8 percent increase over 2018-19, equating to over 27,000 dollars per TK–12 pupil (when accounting for all funding sources).
At the same time, staffing patterns show that while enrollment has stagnated or declined in recent years, the bureaucracy has grown, with administration expanding more rapidly than classroom needs. McNamee argues that a relatively modest share of total spending goes directly to classroom instruction, with less than half of those dollars paying for teachers themselves, while the system continues to underperform, leaving low‑income and minority students trapped in failing schools. In his view, the issue is not funding levels but how funds are allocated and who controls educational decisions for children.
The CEO Act would amend the California Constitution to establish state‑controlled Education Savings Accounts (ESAs) for every K–12 student, funded from existing Proposition 98 dollars that voters previously earmarked for education. Participation in the CEO Act is entirely optional. Each year, approximately 17,000 dollars per student would be deposited into that child’s ESA; parents then choose among all education options, including private schools, faith‑based schools, and homeschooling.
Parents never handle the money directly. Once they select an eligible school, the ESA trust sends tuition payments straight to that institution, with any unused funds remaining in the account and earning interest. For example, if a kindergarten charges 7,000 dollars per year, that amount flows from the ESA to the school, and the remaining 10,000 dollars stays in the account to grow for future educational expenses. Unused ESA funds roll over annually, can be used after 12th grade for accredited trade schools, community colleges, universities, or postgraduate education, and, after age 18, may be transferred to a family member’s ESA or donated to an eligible school.
Crucially, the CEO Act is designed to be revenue‑neutral. It does not raise taxes; instead, it reallocates existing Proposition 98 dollars so that funds follow the student rather than automatically flowing to government‑operated schools. The overall fiscal commitment to education remains the same, but families gain direct agency over where their child’s share is spent including but not limited to: tuition, tutors, books, supplies, online classes, special needs, and transportation.
According to McNamee, earlier drafts of school‑choice language in California left room for abuse, including the theoretical risk that families could set up nominal “schools” primarily to access ESA dollars rather than provide genuine instruction. He says his team reworked the initiative with Legislative Counsel to close these loopholes and tightened eligibility so that participating schools must either be accredited by a recognized body or agree to administer nationally norm‑referenced tests at least every two years, starting no later than grade 4, with reasonable accommodations for students with IEPs. Participating schools conduct self-funded annual audits, with reporting sent to the ESA Trust Board, which may conduct its own audit if there is a reason to do so.
The initiative’s backers frame the CEO Act as a matter of equity and modern civil rights. They argue that for decades, affluent families have had de facto school choice via private tuition or real‑estate mobility, while low‑ to moderate‑income parents—disproportionately families of color—have been locked into underperforming neighborhood schools. By giving every child the same 17,000‑dollar ESA, regardless of race, ZIP code, or income, the measure aims to equalize opportunity and “break the cycle of poverty” through access to high‑quality education.
McNamee argues that in states with established private school choice programs—through vouchers, tax‑credit scholarships, or ESAs—districts face new incentives that can lead to smaller classes, more individualized instruction, and rising test scores for students who remain in public schools, while states often save money because non‑public options typically educate students at a lower public cost per pupil. In his view, competition from alternative schooling is not a threat to public education but a catalyst for improvement and a discipline on administrative bloat.
One of the CEO Act’s most important features is its constitutional design. Legislative school‑choice programs, such as Arizona’s universal Empowerment Scholarship Account law, have faced repeated repeal and rollback attempts whenever political control shifts—through gubernatorial budget proposals, legislative efforts, and referendum or initiative campaigns backed by teachers’ unions and allied advocacy groups. McNamee notes that Arizona school‑choice advocates now wish they had pursued an initiative‑based constitutional amendment precisely to avoid annual legislative battles over the scope of parental choice.
Through the initiative process, the ESA, with parent-directed funding, is embedded into the California Constitution, thus insulating the CEO Act from routine partisan swings. Any effort to weaken or undo the program would require another statewide vote of the people, not just a bill in Sacramento. Once millions of families have real control over 17,000 dollars per child each year, proponents argue, it will be politically difficult to persuade them to relinquish that power.
For other states with initiative and referendum processes, the CEO Act provides a strategic model: use constitutional amendments, funded from existing education streams, to lock in universal school choice and make these rights far harder to erode. If California—often seen as a stronghold of union influence and centralized education policy—adopts such an amendment for the November 2026 ballot and ultimately enacts it, the move would signal to policymakers nationwide that robust, parent‑centered school choice can be both politically viable and legally durable. Polling conducted by the California Policy Center indicates school choice is supported by 72 percent of voters across political and racial spectrums.
In closing, California’s CEO Act is more than a state policy fight. It is a test of whether constitutional school‑choice amendments can realign American education around families rather than systems—and whether other states will follow the same path.
