a rambling post about parenting and education

Over the course of the last couple of weeks, I've found myself sucked into multiple conversations about the local elementary schools.  (I thought that perhaps I'd escaped such conversations for a couple of years, now that Squiss is happily ensconced at Neighborhood School,* but apparently not.  I now have a sinking suspicion that they'll be never-ending.)  I have mixed feelings about these conversations: I think that Neighborhood School is distinctly under-rated by the other highly educated, progressive, upper-middle-class parents I've been talking to, and I think that it's under-rated in ways and for reasons that they're both aware of and not.  So there's a part of me that wants to launch into these conversations full throttle, as an advocate for a school that I think is habitually under-rated, that is doing good things for a wide range of kids.

(Caveat: These conversations have not been with people with whom I'm already friends.  They've been, instead, the kinds of conversations you have with the parents of other children at a kid's birthday party, or while your kids are playing together at the playground for a first playdate.)

They go something like this.

Parent 1: So, where does your [son or daughter] go to school?

Parent 2: Hippie School [or High Test Scores West or High Test Scores East].

Parent 1: Oh, that's great.

Parent 3: And where does Squiss go?

dr: She goes to Neighborhood School.

Parent 2: And how is that going? 

Here's my point: Hippie School, HTSW, HTSE -- none of them need explanation.  Although each of those three schools has a very different climate, parents are rarely asked to gloss their experiences at any of them.  By contrast, I'm *always* asked how we're liking Neighborhood School.  Because, you see, we might not.

I'd happily interpret this as interest: because relatively few highly educated, progressive, upper-middle-class parents send their kids to Neighborhood, it's unknown.  (I wrote about this last year.)  And they'd like more information.

But, you see, the conversation then further unfolds:

Parent 3 (who lives in our neighborhood): You know, we thought about sending [older child] there, but then we sent hir to [Hippie/HTSW/HTSE] instead.  We wanted to support our local school, and we love the diversity, but we just couldn't do it.

"We just couldn't do it."  Because, clearly, I'm sacrificing my daughter's education for some other value -- a value they appreciate and share, but are unwilling to sacrifice *their* kids' educations for.

I'm saying this here because I only say gentle versions of it in person.

#1.  I am NOT sacrificing my daughter's education by sending her to Neighborhood School.

When someone asked me over the weekend how the transition had been for Squiss from Montessori to Neighborhood, I answered, "seamless."  I then explained a bit (she now gets to go to school with Princess Towhead every day, she's a pretty adaptable kid . . .), but then ended, "although I think she's lost a bit of some of the academic stuff this year."

Her reply, "And so do you find that you have to do a lot at home, to compensate?"  Got directly at *her* anxieties, and I responded: "No . . . I mean, she's still adding and subtracting." 

(I didn't say, AND READING AT A SIXTH-GRADE LEVEL!!! because I don't like to get into that kind of, well, pissing contest.)

The conversation peetered out there, but I think it's worth continuing.  Squiss had started doing what Montessori calls "skip-counting" which is basically the multiplication tables, and she was strating to learn the concept of fractions, when she was four-turning-five.  Those concepts have mostly leaked out of her brain over the course of this year, but she's consolidated other math skills in really solid ways: she's clearly in a concrete operations stage, but adding and subtracting are familiar, usual skills.  She's numerate now in the way that kids become literate when they look at the world and see that it's filled with words.  In addition, she's now willing to write sentences and stories, while at the beginning of the year she studiously resisted it.  (Her tooth-loss story seems to have been a kind of catalyst.) 

She's learned about six different biomes.  She's raised trout from eggs and learned the life stages.  She's performed in a short "opera" and has learned what an aria is.

And she's done it all in a class with kids who speak Spanish and Chinese and Vietnamese at home.  A class in which she (a white girl) is in the minority.

#2. I am largely DELIGHTED not to be at a school where the highly educated, progressive, upper-middle-class parents are obsessing about their children's educations all the time.

I had a conversation with Ms. Froggie this morning.

I want to make sure I haven't missed filling out a form or something about classroom placement for next year.

No, there's no form, but we do try to honor requests.  She'll be in one of two classrooms.

Oh, I don't know either of the teachers.

Well, it's Ms. Q and Ms. L; I could arrange a time for you to meet them both, if you'd like.

You know, that's okay.  I'm going to trust you all to look out for Squiss.

Oh, we'll put her in a good place.  And, honestly, Squiss will do well wherever she is.

I have a kind of visceral recoil from the prospect of being at a school where your child gets placed in a more "desirable" class for the next year based on your advocacy.  (Yes, all our children are exceptional and unique and need special attention.)  Part of this is because I'm an academic administrator and teacher: I know that the parents of my college students know their kids better than I do.  But, frankly, I know college students IN GENERAL better than they do, and I know more about EDUCATING college students than they do.  Similarly, I trust the principal and teachers of Neighborhood School as professionals.  That means that 1) they know more about educating K-6 kids than I do; and 2) that they know the other kids in question better than I do and so will not simply place Squiss but will create a group in the classroom.

The corollary to this is that I don't like the mentality that squeaky wheels get better treatment.  I know that it's often the case, and it almost always pisses me off.  (With the caveat that I'm lucky: my kids aren't special needs in any way.  They don't, in fact, need additional or particular kinds of support.  Those parents have to advocate -- although, again, I think that's a bit of a crime, since I think that the system should be better at supprting the diverse educational and social needs of kids and families.  But I think that there's a lot of highly educated, progressive, upper-middle-class parental conviction that their children need special consideration when, in fact, those kids' needs, learning styles, and so on fall well within the range of what our tragically under-paid and under-supported public school teachers know how to work with.)

* On the way home from school on Friday we had this conversation:

I can't BELIEVE I only have FOUR MORE DAYS of kindergarten!

I know . . . you're almost a first grader!

Yeah . . . No more kindergarten playground.  (small unhappy face, but then interrupts herself.)  Oh!  Mama!  Did you turn in the pink card that says I'll go to Neighborhood next year!?

Yes, sweetie.  I turned it in.

Oh, good, because I REALLY want to go to Neighborhood School again.

Comments

[Reg Oignon]

One thing to add in response to Oona - "couldn't it just be that you lucked out with neighbourhood school and therefore don't have to obsess?" Yes, you're right that neighborhood school is good, and we don't have to obsess. That's part of the point - we're pretty convinced that *all* of our town's schools are quite good - given the average income & education level, and heavy involvement of parents on the school board, that shouldn't be too surprising. But as D describes, lots of parents treat Neighborhood and the other South of the Tracks school as if they're failing inner-city urban schools - or at least, a lot closer to that than they really are. As D says, it's not that we don't think we need to watch what the teachers & administration are doing - just that we generally trust them, as much as we would trust their peers at the other schools in town (more so, on some issues), and don't think we need to be more concerned or vigilant because she's at Neighborhood than if she were at a North of the Tracks school.

[dr]

You're right on the general level, Oona, but I wonder where the line between vigilance and obsession lies? I'm certainly not advocating not worrying about kids' educations, schools, and so on -- taking whatever's local and making do with it. But I also think that we sometimes get ourselves tied into knots, second-guessing choices in terms of how perfect they are. Do I *love* every single thing about Neighborhood? No. But I frankly can't imagine a school that would keep me that happy every minute of every day, and so everything is a trade-off.

[Oona]

When it comes to the particulars, I agree with everything you say. I fact, I'm pretty much convinced that neighbourhood school is a better school than hippie school. But when it comes to generalities I'm not so sure. You say we shouldn't obsess about which is the best school -- but couldn't it just be that you lucked out with neighbourhood school and therefore don't have to obsess? I also can't bear squeaky-wheel parents, continually advocating for their little darlings. But I've also seen situations where teachers and principals aren't smart, and don't know where to place kids, and generally aren't to be trusted as professionals. I'll try not to turn into a whiner, and to take what comes. But I'll also keep my eyes open.

[Steel Magnolia]

Wow. This is a fresh perspective that pulls me out of the abyss of fear that we've developed about our neighborhood school. It's so stressful because I have come to believe the hype that our underserved, highly-minority (we are too), low test scores, lots of free lunch schools simply will not do. I do realize that I don't know exactly what my criteria are, though, so thanks for giving me more to think about.

[terra]

This post perfectly describes our experience with the school our girls attend. It's not our neighborhood school, though; we send them to the public school in the poorest and, frankly, most crime ridden part of our little town because that's where the music, foreign languages, art, and cultural diversity are. My ten year old speaks Spanish and plays the flute, she just finished a smashing performance in the annual play (a musical theater production, and she reads higher than the twelfth grade level. So there. A parent from the Rich and Snooty school sat next to me for that play, and she raved about the quality of the production and swore her kids' school can't hold a candle to this. We wouldn't change a thing! (other than teacher pay, of course).

[Sisyphus]

Way to go, you! I was just reading Jonathan Kozol's _Shame of the Nation_ which shows exactly what happens when everybody pulls out of a school district and forgets about it.

[Jay]

Oh, MAN, do I know this conversation. People think we moved into this district by mistake (FancySuburbandDistrict starts four blocks away). No, it wasn't a mistake - we didn't want to "be at a school where the highly educated, progressive, upper-middle-class parents are obsessing about their children's educations all the time". Well said.

"And she's doing OK academically?" Um, yeah, she can read and add and subtract and multiple and divide and play violin and knows the difference between fiction and non-fiction and the structure of a narrative and the life stages of the butterfly. She knows plenty for a rising fourth grader, and she ALSO knows that some people who live here don't speak English and that the system doesn't support them very well.

She wouldn't have learned that at FancySuburban. And don't get me started on the football players/rapists who are revered at that high school. I'd rather have her attend school with gang members. Seriously.