And I said no. Of course I said no.
For the summer, Monkey goes to a Camp W, run by a private school that owns a large "farm" in a nearby community, so campers can have a real outdoor camp experience without an incredibly long bus ride. There are daily swimming lessons, sports, nature walks, arts & crafts, and each week has a theme. The counselors have been there for each of the three years he's attended the camp, and they are all lovely teenagers. Monkey gets strong and tan and confident. It's great. He hangs out with Little Girl K, whom he has known since pre-school.
That is, until today.
Today he started hanging out with Little Girl A. Little Girl A goes to private School G, and she's in Little Boy N's class. Monkey became friends with Little Boy N last summer, and the N family lives pretty close to us. Little Boy N will start at camp next week.
Little Girl A was Class A obnoxious. She was loud, bossy and rude to her father and frankly she acted pretty spoiled. Little Boy N can also be loud and bossy. Maybe it's the culture of the school they go to. Schools have cultures, and School G seems to be making assertive children. There's nothing wrong with assertive. Arrogance coupled with assertiveness in an elementary school child is not always a pretty thing.
Monkey goes to public school. Monkey's public school is now named after a Former (Local) University President. So, Dad A asked where Monkey went to school and when told, said, "Oh, Former Local University President was President of my college when I was there." I said, "Heh. I worked in the Library when he was president." (and probably made less in one year than you paid in tuition, dude.) Well, Little Girl A demanded a play date with Monkey, and Dad A said, we'll have to work that out. Little Girl A bellowed, "Monkey has Mom's phone number, and I want his! Mom has to call his mom. I want a play date."
Dad A hustled her off to their car, and we dragged Monkey to our car to get him someplace where we could treat the poison ivy on his face. (Dad A wondered if he'd gotten that at camp. No, dude, it happens when not-rich people get too close to grass instead of pavement.)
So we're driving away and Monkey says, "I want you to sign me up for School G."
Whoa, Little Dude. Your grandmother pays for you to go to grassy camp instead of pavement camp. If Monkey Mom and Dad had to pay for camp, you'd be going to pavement camp. Why do you think you pack a lunch?
Monkey says, "I hate Former Local University President School (FLUPS), but I would miss my friends. But I want to go to School G."
Let us bear in mind that Monkey, while not in special ed, has an IEP. He gets speech therapy, writing and reading resource help, and counseling every week. He gets accommodations for test taking. Monkey is great at math and loves books, but has a really hard time with reading and writing. FLUPS calls it "Speech-Language Disfluency." I call it dyslexia. But he gets help and FLUPS has to help him. It's the law. It's pretty awesome what they can pull off. I mean, FLUPS and its school district have problems, but the teachers who care are amazing and it's a good school with a rigorous academic program. OK, Kid J brought a knife to 1st grade and Kid G bit the teacher, but you take the good stuff with the bad stuff. Because FLUPS has to take them all. It's a public school. The bedrock of citizenship. One of the best (albeit flawed) things about this country: free public education for everyone.
So I tell the Monkey about "getting into" private school, and that there's no guarantee and not always any clear reason why you don't get it. I tell Monkey that School G (and School W, and School MB) all have annual tuition rates that are more than one-half of my salary. And then I tell Monkey about public education.
I tell Monkey that public school is actually a way to give back to the government. It's a shared resource. Our taxes help pay for it. And the government will give us a free education, and that education helps make us better citizens, but that when kids go to public school, and their parents are involved, and care, the public school is a better public school, because we are all sharing the job. We all share the job of making this a good country to live in. By going to public school, he doesn't just get a free education, he participates in a national process to build the country, to make good citizens who understand how to make good choices. And if the parents who are afraid to send their kids to FLUPS here on the nice side of town actually did, and were involved in the schools--even just coming to teacher conferences and making sure homework got done--then FLUPS and all the other public schools would be better schools.
You know what's really sad? I believe what I'm telling the Monkey. I believe that sending him to public school is not only a good economic choice, and a choice that will give him mandated access to the extra resources he needs, I believe it is the right choice to make politically. I believe it is a political statement of faith in the future, a way to hold the local, state and federal governments accountable not for test scores but for citizenship, for the very forging of informed, voting, caring citizens.
Am I crazy? Am I sacrificing my son's future for some cock-eyed non-existent political ideal? If I sent him to School G (presuming he got in and money fell from heaven to pay for it) would he be better equipped to compete in tomorrow's world? Or is he better off in a school population that looks like the city we live in? One where most of the kids qualify for free lunches, one where every kid gets a free breakfast, one where multiple languages are spoken, and the first day of kindergarten is often the first day of English for some students--last year, Girl J came from China. This year, Girl O came from a country in Africa. This is amazing. This is good, isn't it? Isn't that what America is--or used to be--about?
Well, Monkey won't go to private school next year, and he probably won't go the year after that. But he might for middle school...we'll see. The one down the street just closed. Some parents are agitating for an improved middle school for this side of town. Right now, of three grades and many kids, only 40 are from this side of town. 40. All the rest of the tweens over here are in private school. And that just doesn't seem right. So I have a group of parents to join. After all, in 4 years, I'm going to need that school.