I’m a Public School Junkie

 

I’m a public school junkie and since this is Texas Public Schools Week (who knew?), I’m hopping up on my Public Schools Soapbox.   My three siblings and I are all products of Texas public schools, which served us remarkably well-academically and socially.   Like so many other Americans, we lived in a mostly segregated neighborhood: all of our neighbors were white and middle-class.   We went to school, however, with kids from all walks of life.   In the first grade, I had a crush on a black boy named Horatio.   My parents looked up his phone number in the phone book and allowed me to call him the night before Valentine’s Day to ask if he would be my Valentine.   My mom painstakingly braided my blonde hair in cornrows for Show-and-Tell Day so I could look like some of my classmates.   [I wish I had a picture of that!]   In the fourth grade, Héctor (whose English wasn’t very good) sat at our lunch table and kept us all laughing with his antics.

However, I shouldn’t paint an idyllic portrait of the public schools I attended.   There was tracking-especially in the later grades when we started getting into honors and “college prep” classes.   All my closest friends were white, like me.   There was one black friend in our group, and her black friends sometimes called her an “Oreo” for hanging out with us.   But life requires us, or at least it should require us, to interact with people who are different from us.   We can pick our neighbors, and unfortunately we all too frequently pick people just like us, but we can’t pick our co-workers, and we can’t pick people with whom we interact in gas stations, grocery stores, movie theaters, restaurants, and other public places.

My kids also attend public schools.   They even attended public schools in Baton Rouge, Louisiana-the city with the highest private school attendance rate (nearly 30%) in the nation.   When we first moved to Baton Rouge, we were puzzled that almost no one we knew (from church, work, or our neighborhood) sent their kids to public schools.   In fact, it was a moral imperative to keep them out of public schools.   One mother told me: “I would dig ditches before any child of mine ever set foot in a public school in East Baton Rouge Parish.”   A father said: “I would get a night job delivering pizzas just to keep my kids out of those schools.”   After hearing many similar comments, we visited some of these supposedly terrible schools from which we should surely want to protect our children. Some were in shockingly poor condition, but nonetheless, we were impressed by how not terrible they were.

I began stopping conversations whenever I announced that my little tow-headed daughter would be attending South Boulevard Elementary-a public school.   And not just any public school-a public school downtown.   People asked me in hushed tones if I had been to the school at night.   They asked if I worried about what would happen to my daughter if there were no other white kids in her class.

And thus began what I anticipate will be a life-long campaign for me-championing public education to everyone I know.   I didn’t realize how important public education was until I saw it being attacked and abandoned by so many.   Public schools serve a critical social purpose: preparing students for life in the real world.   That real world is full of people from other countries and other parts of this country; it’s full of people who speak other languages; it’s full of people from varying socioeconomic statuses and diverse religious persuasions.   In fact, forget the world-our town is full of people from all walks of life.   I want my kids to go to school with kids that look like our community.   And public schools are the only real way that my children and others will have that opportunity.

So for me, it’s all public schools all the time.   Say “charter schools” and I start to twitch.   Say “private schools” or “vouchers” (damn you, Arne Duncan) and I break out into hives.   Say “home school” and I’m circling the drain.   I believe in public schools kinda like I believe in God.   Public schools (and God) have so much potential to do good.   Public schools (and God) can-and sometimes do-really change people’s lives for the better.   Public schools (and God) can-and often do-really mess with people’s lives, too.   Just like God, they sometimes fail, they seem to neglect some of us, they disappoint us, they privilege some people over others, they sometimes let people slip through the cracks, and they sweep things under the rug.

But they also do so much good.   And so I continue to support public schools and the teachers who work in them.   I (almost always) look the other way when they fail my kids or disappoint me.   I don’t mind-at all-that other kids in my kids’ classes seem to get more attention from their teachers than my kids.   Luckily for me, the other kids need that more than mine do.   My kids’ teachers stay late after school to help kids.   They wrap their arms around sad kindergarteners.   They wipe runny noses and help kids tie their shoes.   They come to literacy and movie nights.   They accompany busloads of kids on 14-hour band and UIL trips.   Two public school teachers are about to chaperone my daughter and 29 other 8th graders on a week-long trip to DC and NYC-during their spring break!

So yeah, sometimes public schools don’t do everything they could or maybe should.   But they’re sacred spaces for me.   I tread softly when it comes to public schools.   Those public school teachers watch over my kids approximately 185 days out of the year.   I want them to know I’ve got their back.   And despite a rare disappointment or two, they’ve earned my trust and my gratitude–in spades.