How dual enrollment programs can enhance racial equity

Across California, dual enrollment programs let high school students take community college classes, earning both high school and college credit simultaneously. The goal is simple: to open the doors of higher education earlier, giving young people a head start on college and career pathways. In some places, students even graduate with an associate degree before receiving their high school diploma.

But access to these opportunities isn’t equal. Who may participate, and who benefits, depends significantly on how each program is designed and led. Dual enrollment looks different in every community, and its success hinges on how well high schools and community colleges work together. These two systems have different priorities, funding structures and interpretations of equity, some diluted and others explicitly race-conscious, which shape how students of color are included and supported.

When programs ignore race, inequities deepen. Not offering multilingual parent orientations or providing outreach materials only in English excludes too many students and families. Some programs do not receive sufficient support from their high school partners in outreach, enrollment and advising, which limits access to dual enrollment. Recent conversations with dual enrollment staff reveal that high school administrators and staff can be resistant to supporting these opportunities, often believing their students are neither capable of nor interested in dual enrollment. Consequently, Black and Latino students remain underrepresented in many programs, even though they stand to benefit most from dual enrollment opportunities.

Over the past year, I’ve studied several of California’s dual enrollment programs that successfully enroll large numbers of Black and Latino students. I wanted to understand what makes these programs different and what lessons they offer for the rest of the state. Through interviews with dual enrollment and K-12 partner staff from Southern, Central and Northern California, I found that interpretations of “racial equity,” how educators think about opportunity and support across racial lines, vary widely. What counts as racial equity often depends on local history, community conditions and the personal commitments of the people running the programs, and in these cases, those commitments are reflected in the steady growth of Black and Latino students accessing these programs.

Many staff members told me their own experiences shape their work. Their race, gender, immigration background and family history often influence how they support students. For example, one director in the Bay Area described how decades of school closures and leadership turnover have limited opportunities for Black students in her region. Her program now recruits directly at schools with high Black enrollment schools and connects students not just to classes, but also to college resources like the basic needs center and counseling services. For her, dual enrollment isn’t just about college credit, it’s about rebuilding relationships and opportunity in her community.

In Los Angeles, another dual enrollment director said that many Latino youth in her region graduate without clear plans for what comes next. Many are children of immigrants whose families value education but haven’t always been included in college conversations. She now leads orientation sessions in Spanish for students and parents, helping families see college as an attainable goal and building on the aspirations they already hold.

In rural Central California, two high school counselors described “college access deserts,” where Latino students travel long distances just to attend high school, let alone a college campus. Their solution was to bring college to the students, embedding dual enrollment courses directly into the school day. For these students, being able to earn college credit without leaving school makes higher education feel within reach.

Many of the dual enrollment staff I spoke with were determined to ensure that dual enrollment did not replicate the exclusionary patterns of honors and AP programs. They worried it could mirror the same gatekeeping if left unchecked. Although AP has often been promoted as an equity strategy, its benefits have largely gone to white students in affluent districts, while low-income schools and Black and Latino students face limited access and lower pass rates. That history pushed many educators to treat dual enrollment as a more equitable alternative, one that can reach a broader student population, offer no-cost course options, and evaluate learning over a full semester rather than a single high-stakes exam. But their own experiences as first-generation students, children of immigrants or former dual enrollment participants helped them remember what it’s like to navigate college without clear guidance or support. Those memories now drive them to make dual enrollment more accessible and culturally responsive, ensuring students of color don’t get left out.

The lesson from these programs is clear: Equity in dual enrollment isn’t just about how many students enroll; it’s also about how programs are built and who leads them. The most successful efforts are run by people who understand their communities, know the barriers students face, and design supports that meet local realities.

In these higher-enrolling programs across California, equity shows up in day-to-day choices: who gets recruited, how families are welcomed, and what supports students receive once they enroll. Staff described building multilingual outreach, holding parent sessions in community spaces, embedding advising into the school day in close partnership with high schools, and ensuring students are connected to basic needs, counseling and college navigation support. Rather than assuming students will “find their way,” these programs redesign the pathway together so that Black and Latino students can access and succeed in dual enrollment.

As California’s community colleges pursue the goals of Vision 2030 — to lead with equity, excellence, and urgency — it’s time to think beyond participation numbers. Dual enrollment should be more than a policy to expand access; it should be a strategy to rebuild relationships between colleges and their communities. When done right, these programs can help restore trust, reimagine pathways to opportunity, and show students that college truly belongs to them.

Dual enrollment holds transformative promise. But realizing that promise requires more than counting how many students sign up. It demands that we ask hard questions. Who is this opportunity for? Who’s still being left out? The educators I spoke with show that with care, commitment to systemic change, and connection to community, dual enrollment can become a powerful tool for racial equity in California’s schools and colleges.

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Rogelio Salazar is a first-generation Ph.D. candidate in higher education and organizational change at UCLA and a doctoral researcher in the Rios-Aguilar Lab. They also serve as the lead doctoral researcher with the CCHALES Research Collective at San Diego State, where they advance equity-focused community college research.

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