The fate of education in America greets me every morning when I wake up, because I am a parent. I have mixed feelings about what’s happening in the world of education, in part because I feel that I stand as one of the privileged few in this discussion. At least for now, my husband and I have enrolled our 6-year-old daughter in private school. And we thank God we are able to afford keeping her there (if by the skin of our teeth). I get that I am part of that community of parents who have a choice because we have the means to explore options for the education of our child.
But it angers me to the point of fury that any parent would feel the need to spend in one year what it cost for my entire college education just to send a child to a good first grade. It wasn’t like this when I grew up in Baltimore what seems like a thousand years ago. My parents were great believers in public education, and my sisters and I went all the way public, from elementary through high school. We went to integrated schools that had top-notch scores, including an academic-entry, all-girls high school, Western, which remains a feeder to excellent colleges across the country. True, we lived in a “good” — i.e., suburban — neighborhood. That counts for a lot when you are considering public schools for your children. And there’s the rub for me now.
My family lives in Harlem. Yes, it’s become highly gentrified, with the high rents and big-ticket mortgages to prove it. But it does not boast a bevy of academic institutions at the ready to prepare our children for excellence. Yes, there are a number of good charter schools. As the recent documentary Waiting for Superman points out, entering the lottery to gain entry to those schools is akin to playing the $10 million lotto.
When we began our search for schools for our daughter, we looked at the neighborhood options, took the prerequisite tests required for 3-year-olds for the gifted and talented public school all-city programs, and shopped the private institutions. We tried for the lottery for Hunter College’s elementary program, one that is considered primo in the city. And only about 2,000 other families had the same idea. In order to be considered for that program, which welcomes 24 boys and 24 girls each year, your child has to score 99 percent (remember, at age 3). Our daughter scored a whopping 92 percent. (I refused to believe she was not excellent because she didn’t score perfectly years before she could even read!)
We contemplated leaving the city, as so many other families do when they have kids. But we figured we had a golden opportunity to shepherd our child through the world by exposing her to a true multicultural gathering of people. Manhattan is, after all, the melting pot of America. Finally, our daughter got into a good private school, one known for its racial diversity and inclusion. Yet, in her kindergarten class, hers was the only brown face in the room other than her teacher’s. Many of the brown-skinned families (and others) who had been there the year before had left because one parent — or both — had lost a job in the Great Recession.