Why Your Home’s Tax Assessment Feels Wrong — And What That Says About the System

Every spring, a familiar ritual plays out across Texas.

You open your property tax notice. Your stomach drops. The number staring back at you doesn’t reflect the house you live in—it reflects some distant, averaged idea of it. And if you’ve ever felt that the valuation seems... off, it’s probably because it is.

This isn’t a glitch. It’s the design.

Welcome to the logic of mass appraisal.

The Algorithm That Doesn’t Know You

County assessors are tasked with valuing millions of properties using limited data and limited time. So they rely on something called a mass appraisal model—an algorithmic method built to process large swaths of homes in batches. It works something like this:

• Estimate market trends using limited, often outdated data

• Apply blanket adjustments based on neighborhood averages

• Assume typical condition unless flagged otherwise

• Assign values using broad logic—not property-specific knowledge

Then it spits out a number. Not based on a walk-through. Not based on the actual condition of your property. Based on a model. A model that doesn’t know if your house backs to train tracks, floods every spring, or needs $20,000 in foundation work.

The model doesn’t know those things. And it doesn’t care. It’s doing its job—fast, cheap, and good enough for the herd.

The Hidden Subjectivity of “Objective” Data

There’s an idea that math is neutral. That models remove bias. But mass appraisal doesn’t work that way. In fact, it often amplifies the very inconsistencies it’s meant to eliminate.

Some homes get overvalued. Some get undervalued. Most just get swept into a fog of statistical compromise. And if you’ve ever felt like the number assigned to your home had no real connection to your reality—that’s not paranoia. That’s the system doing what it was built to do: generalize.

But generalization is a poor stand-in for truth.

Why the Appeal Process Exists

To the county’s credit, they know this system isn’t perfect. That’s why the appeal process exists. It’s not just a formality. It’s an admission: We know this might not be right—tell us if we missed something.

And yet, most people don’t appeal.

Why?

Because there’s a psychological hurdle. The average person assumes the number is set in stone. Or worse—they assume the county knows something they don’t. But in Texas, a non-disclosure state, the county doesn’t even know what your neighbor’s house actually sold for. They’re guessing. With formulas. And averages. And blind spots.

The Power of Specific Knowledge

This is where real, property-specific data makes all the difference.

If your home has a cracked slab, a collapsing fence, an outdated kitchen, or simply lacks features common to nearby sales—those differences matter. But only if they’re documented. Only if they’re measured and expressed in market terms. That’s the job of an appraisal—not the county’s estimate, but a real one. Grounded in actual sales. Adjusted for reality.

The county isn’t your adversary. But they’re not your advocate either. They’re an overwhelmed institution working off incomplete data. And in a system designed to generalize, specific facts are your leverage.

Final Thought

This isn’t about beating the system. It’s about correcting the record.

Because for all its faults, the system does leave room for correction—if you know how to speak its language. And that language isn’t emotion, or fairness, or “my neighbor pays less.”

It’s data.

And when the data is clear, the system—begrudgingly, but consistently—listens.