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Mark Zuckerberg’s $100 million gift to Newark public schools provided a canvas to examine a failing school district.Credit Stephen Lam/Reuters

The national debate over how to best educate our children is usually undertaken at a high level of abstraction. Constructive dialogue is often hampered by intense philosophical preconceptions that drive the perceptions and characterizations of all key players in the underlying drama: union leaders, charter operators, philanthropists, school administrators, politicians and teachers. The great strength of Dale Russakoff’s heartbreaking and disheartening book, “The Prize: Who’s in Charge of America’s Schools,” (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2015) is its steadfast insistence on avoiding generalities and explaining realities.

In place of the cardboard figures that often dominate education narratives, Ms. Russakoff provides nuanced portraits of flawed but largely well-meaning human beings. It is not just sticking to the facts and the avoidance of taking sides that makes “The Prize” such a moving and thought-provoking book. It is the painstaking specificity with which she describes the lives of those strangely absent from many more ideological tracts: the children.

Mark Zuckerberg’s $100 million gift to Newark public schools in 2010 provided the perfect canvas on which to examine a failing urban school district. Although not an education expert as such, Ms. Russakoff’s long tenure in The Washington Post’s New York bureau earned her access to all of the protagonists in the unfolding tragedy. Many may question their decision to be quite so open after reading “The Prize,” whose only heroes are individual teachers and principals working with particular children and their families to occasionally overcome breathtaking odds.

Watching the $200 million iceberg (Mr. Zuckerberg’s $100 million donation was contingent on raising a matching amount) slowly melt into an ocean of recrimination over the course of 256 brisk pages can be a sometimes painful exercise. The union boss, Joe Del Grosso, demanded a ransom of $31 million to compensate for what he felt members should have received in previous years — before agreeing to discuss any labor reforms. The superintendent, Cami Anderson, demanded accountability from schools but set her own performance goals only after the academic year was largely over and relied on expensive consultants — whose total bill ultimately exceeded $20 million — without clear objectives long after she had promised to recruit a permanent leadership team.

The school reform movement’s focus on measurable results and “business-style management” is laudable. But it is downright chilling to watch the leadership team throw around buzz phrases from business best-sellers with minimal focus on the nuanced requirements of applying these principles to the education ecosystem generally or to the Newark public schools particularly. Too many of Newark’s children have suffered unspeakable trauma from their exposure to a combination of violent crime, family turmoil and deep poverty. With all the high-minded talk of revolution and “ripping off Band-Aids” and “changing the engine while flying the plane,” remarkably little thought went into the actual effect these policies might have on this population in desperate need of stability — much less how $200 million could be best spent in this context.

Reformers here also seem to be willing to assign responsibility to true believers with modest records of accomplishment. Gov. Chris Christie, who controlled the Newark school budget, appointed Chris Cerf as New Jersey state education commissioner. Mr. Cerf, a lawyer, secured this position and a previous “reform” role in New York City on the strength of his eight-year tenure at Edison Schools — initially as general counsel but ultimately serving as president — an early reform effort that collapsed in the face of disastrous financial and operating performance as well as accounting irregularities. Mr. Cerf abandoned Newark just as public anger there peaked in March 2014 to work as a senior executive at Amplify, Rupert Murdoch’s for-profit educational venture. He left that job barely a year later, just before News Corp., Amplify’s parent, announced its intention to sell the division in the face of mounting losses. In July, Mr. Cerf was appointed the superintendent of Newark public schools shortly after Ms. Anderson resigned.

“The Prize” contains plenty of dramatic confrontations between those who seek to protect the public schools at all costs and the defenders of charter schools and reform. The more significant tension that emerges, however, is between those who want to make a point, establish a precedent or protect a prerogative and those who are dedicated to the hard and often unpredictable work required to make a difference in these particular students’ lives. Interestingly, the latter dichotomy cuts across the public school vs. charter school divide in often unexpected ways. The most sympathetic characters to emerge from “The Prize” are those willing to question orthodoxy — whether reformist, union or otherwise — to bring a glimmer of hope for the future to Newark’s most vulnerable families.

The opening scene of “The Prize” is one of hope: an unusual bipartisan late-night ride through some of Newark’s worst neighborhoods with Governor Christie and then-Mayor Corey Booker. The two ambitious politicians ended the ride with an agreement to “do the right thing” for Newark’s schools, whatever the political cost. As each gets distracted with other priorities and considerations, however, “The Prize” ends up painting a fairly unflattering portrait of both. The ultimate inability of these two remarkably talented public servants with undeniably good intentions to make significant progress may be the most disheartening aspect of the entire story.

In family court, judges are required to apply the “best interest of the child” standard. This imperative supersedes any claims of right by, or contractual agreements between, parents. Although easier to defend in the abstract than to apply in the particular, the simple concept is that children’s ability to achieve their full potential is of paramount importance. No such rule, unfortunately, constrains politicians, unions, administrators or even parents when it comes to the organization and operation of public education. “The Prize” serves as an invaluable reminder of both how far from this standard we have strayed in determining how we educate our children and how much more than good intentions are required to meet it.