By Anthony Tilghman
It’s funny how schools feel different when you walk into them as a parent compared to when you enter as an advocate. For years, I’ve stepped into school buildings as a community leader attending board meetings, working with parents, and pushing for accountability in how our education system serves children. But when my daughter Amari, who was diagnosed with autism, started school, the view changed dramatically. Suddenly, the stakes weren’t theoretical. They were deeply personal.
As a parent, every classroom becomes more than a statistic. Every hallway represents both a challenge and a hope. When Amari started learning to count and sing the ABC song, I celebrated every step of progress, but I also saw the gaps in the system. Special education resources aren’t just talking points for me; they’re the daily supports my daughter needs to thrive. Staffing shortages aren’t just numbers on a report; they’re the reality of a child waiting for the attention and care they deserve.
That dual perspective, parent and advocate, is what drives my work today. It’s why I’ve dedicated my career in Prince George’s County to building programs that don’t just talk about solutions, but deliver them. As Commissioner of District Heights, I made it a priority to center leadership on outcomes, not titles.
Together with community partners, we launched a Volunteer-Led Safe Passage program, giving parents peace of mind that their children can get to and from school safely. We expanded access to health screenings through a county-wide Health and Wellness Tour, bringing services directly to neighborhoods where too many families go without care. And we established District Heights as the first municipality in the county with a Workforce Development Lab, opening doors to job training and career opportunities for young people and adults.
These efforts are not about me, they are about what happens when communities work together with focus and determination. And yet, my role as a father always reminds me there is more work to do.
Maryland’s education system is at a crossroads. We are living through a moment where families are losing faith in public schools because they see the strain firsthand. Teachers are underpaid and overworked, students with special needs are underserved, and parents are often left out of the conversation until decisions have already been made. This is unacceptable.
As a state, we must invest in special education resources, ensuring students like my daughter are given not only the chance to succeed but the tools and support to do so. We need smaller class sizes so teachers can provide individualized attention. We need stronger collaborations between parents, educators, and administrators, so the system works with families, not against them. And we must ensure that the billions in Blueprint for Maryland’s Future funding are used in ways that reach classrooms—not just administrative overhead.
When I talk about leadership, I always come back to one principle: service has no title. My work is not about climbing a political ladder; it’s about making sure the ladder of opportunity is standing firmly in place for our children and our families. That means being willing to listen, to take feedback seriously, and to act on it—not just give speeches.
The Safe Passage program, the Health and Wellness Tour, and the Workforce Lab are all examples of what happens when we refuse to settle for excuses and instead focus on solutions.
But my most important role will always be father. Amari reminds me every day why this work matters. When she counts out loud or sings the ABCs, I hear progress. I hear resilience. And I hear a challenge to keep fighting for every child in our community to have that same chance to grow, learn, and shine.
Prince George’s County deserves leaders who bring both heart and results to the table. Leaders who understand that schools aren’t just buildings, they are the foundation of our neighborhoods and our future. And parents like me can’t afford to sit back and wait for change. We need it now.
For me, this isn’t politics. It’s personal. And I’m committed to continuing the work, not just talking on behalf of our children and our community.