things that I've learned

in the few weeks since my original blog post regarding my kids' school, I've had some time to digest what I said, how people reacted to it, and maybe where we go from here. I would definitely say that perhaps it would've been good to have handled things differently, not laundered our dirty clothes in quite so public of a way, but I absolutely don't regret writing what I did. I think it's started some very necessary conversations about where our school needs to go from here. I also think it's really brought several things into focus for me.

The first thing that really struck me, and this shouldn't be surprising, is that for every person in that board meeting, there was often a completely different understanding of what went on that night. People bring their life experiences, their ethnic, racial, and socioeconomic backgrounds with them and view social interactions through those lenses. As a social scientist, I shouldn't have been surprised by this, and yet it still caught me off guard. What I interpreted as a socioeconomic/racial comment, others interpreted as a more general commentary about the role of young women and girls in our society, another interpreted it as more of a commentary about the coarsening of our public language and how we want to keep our kids away from that, and yet another interpreted things predominantly along class lines. I don't think anyone sets out to be insensitive or insulting, I think we just sometimes see things very, very differently. As I discussed with one mom recently, rather than despair over this, I guess it gets to be my job to bring these things to light. I do wish I had handled things differently, but I'm glad I said the things that I did, because they needed to be said. As the lone ethnic minority member on the board, maybe it gets to be my job to say these things.

Some Asian parents recently toured the school and noticed that there were very few Asian students at ASCA, and commented on this. Given that our school initially drew from All Saints Episcopal Church, and then via word of mouth, it is understandable that the student body would be predominantly white. This is not surprising. Although we would love to think that students don't see color, and we are color blind, this is definitely not the way the world works.

This may or may not be news to you, but when you are an ethnic or racial minority, when you enter a new situation (a new school, a new workplace, a sporting event, a conference), you often immediately scan the room looking for others like you. You then make a mental note, "oh, not too many of my people here." Then you start to think about why. In some cases, this won't bother you, but in other cases it will. When I attended the UCR MESA family engineering night at UCR with my children on Ash Wednesday, I immediately noticed that (a) the only other people with ashes on their foreheads were the other latinos at the latino engineering table and (b) in a city where over 50% of the students are of hispanic/latino descent, I absolutely did not see much representation of that community. I made a mental note to ask the organizers if they could please do more to reach out to these communities.

I'm sure that ethnic and racial minority parents make the same observations when they visit Carden. While it may not be a deciding factor, it may influence them in their decision. It may trouble them, much as it often troubles me. For as much as we'd like our school and our culture to be color blind, I'm afraid that we just aren't there yet. I'd like to make the drive to have ASCA be more inclusive not only socio-economically but also racially and ethnically a top priority. I'd like to have it go hand-in-hand with discussions about tuition, but more importantly, in discussions about our vision for the school and our long-term plans for ASCA.

Similarly, financial aid must be a top priority. If we wish to continue to have the children of teachers, clerks and working people be able to access the wonderful opportunities of ASCA, finacial aid cannot be something worked out in private, on a case-by-case basis. It has to be stated up front, right next to tuition costs. I was lamenting to an All Saints parishioner that unlike other well-established schools, we do not have a giant endowment that would allow us to offer financial aide. When we do receive large gifts, they necessarily need to go to improvements of the physical plan that are absolutely necessary when the school is growing. I wished out loud that someone would drop $100,000 on us that we could use the interest (admittedly, very little interest nowadays) to subsidize tuition for those academically deserving but financially strapped students. While I think this is unlikely, the parisioner mentioned that maybe we could get 10 donations of $10,000. Or maybe, parisioners would be willing to pitch in $25 a month or so, enough to provide partial or full scholarships for deserving students.

While I absolutely agree that tuition increases are necessary (something I noted in my original blog post), I suppose that I was just disappointed that there was not a universal concern that we were going to leave some people behind and the implications of this move. I was hoping that someone would pipe up and say, "hey! you know it feels like tuition is eventually going to reach $1000 a month. Can someone make a motion that we discuss financial aid? and while we're at it, a plan to increase racial and ethnic diversity would be great. can we discuss this at a future meeting?" Then we could all go home to our families and weekend plans. Since I didn't hear it at that meeting (though I have heard it since from a variety of parents and parishioners), I guess I'd like to make that motion. I understand that opening my big mouth probably means that I'll be in charge of it. I can accept that.

What I cannot accept is being quiet and not speaking about my concerns. Again, putting it out on a blog post was perhaps not the most diplomatic way to address things, but it certainly got people talking. It perhaps also got some things onto the discussion board that might not have been there otherwise. It got some people, including me, to do some very necessary soul-searching. I don't hate my kids' school. I'm not planning on leaving. and unless I am the subject of unmitigrated vitriol at the next board meeting, I'm not planning on leaving that either. someone needs to speak up. might as well be me.

had to get this off of my chest

I struggled with the decision to send my children to private school. I felt guilty about it. I still feel plenty guilty about it. But now it's so much more complicated. Because once again, race and class issues rear their ugly heads. but more about that later.

What really cemented my decision to send my child to a private school was a visit to Alcott Elementary where the principal told me that before they could raise the roof (raise academic expectations), they first had to level the floor. In other words, my child would be forced to tread water academically while other children, who came to school with less preparation, built their foundation. I didn't think that was fair. I remember being bored in school A LOT (at least, until I took my first AP course in high school) and I just didn't want that for my child. Her school now allows her to achieve academically in the fields she likes best, and she's not forced to wait for anyone to catch up. From an instructional point of view, she's also not held captive to the CST test, pacing chart, two-part standards and all of the rest of the rigamarole that is part and parcel of public education today.

In my daughter's school, I found a small, loving community of wonderful parents, teachers and students. We became fast friends with a group of UCR religious studies professors whose kids were in kindergarten with our child. We went to the movies together and had BBQs in backyards. My child's class of 18 students doubled the size of the school. Now that I think about it, those were the halcyon days. I wish I had appreciated them. For, while it was a lovely time, it was not financially sustainable. Now the time has come to pay the piper, and for me to face some uncomfortable truths.

There is a waiting list for my child's school. From what I gathered, although we may indeed lose some families with next year's tuition increase, they will be easily replaced. What is not so easily replaced, I fear, is the economic diversity that those families provided. I am quite conflicted about this. I feel like I occupy a tenous middle-ground between the Junior League parents who thankfully patronize what we like to call "Babbo's House" and my fellow teachers, well-paid to be sure, but constantly asked to do more and more, for less and less money, every year. I fear how tuition increases will be received in their houses. Will they find the money? Will they "make it a priority" as one person put it? From what I understand, many are on the edge in terms of being able to afford tuition as it is.

But what I find especially troubling, and something that I only discussed with someone after the meeting, is that no one seemed especially concerned with preserving what little diversity the school currently has. I understand that in the market, a scarce commodity will demand higher prices. Those less able to pay, are unfortunately, pretty much SOL. No one mentioned maybe trying to come up with a scholarship program. Nobody was concerned that as our school becomes more and more the school of lawyers and doctors (God bless them all, we sure do need them), that it becomes less and less a school of teachers, office workers and clerks. In my opinion, this is not a good thing. When I made a comment that with every tuition increase, our school is looking less and less like its community, someone in the room responded with a scathing attack on the moral and ethical standards of our community. Given that I teach these very same students every day, I found it to be quite insulting. What was more troubling, however, is that no one stood up to contradict the statement. When no one speaks up, I think it's safe to say that people are either shocked into silence, or that they agree with the speaker. I went to the meeting and said my peace. I felt I had to say something. If I was the lone dissenting vote, then so be it.

I suppose I assumed that the rest of the people in the room were similarly troubled and concerned about the implications of making our school more elite, more expensive and more selective. I have spoken to other parents of color in the school and we feel similarly conflicted. We want to do what is best for our children, but we also realize that they must live in the broader, more diverse world. Are we doing them a disservice by insulating them from that reality? In my ideal world, any discussion of tuition increases would've included a drive to have a scholarship endowment. It would've included a plan to increase racial and ethnic diversity. It would've included a plan to go out and talk to, for example, the Hispanic chamber of commerce. There are Mexican lawyers out there, and they do have children! Unfortunately, I didn't hear any such conversation. The feeling I got from the room was that we have to do this. If people value this, they will pay for it. and if they can't, oh well, we have other people that will fill their spots. It's the cold hard economic reality of America. They are all probably right. But that doesn't mean that I have to like it.

I never intended to keep my child in private school forever. I found a school that I love, with teachers that I respect and admire that has provided a warm and friendly educational environment. I suppose that this week's events have taken the wool from my eyes. It's still a great school, the teachers are still fantastic, and the parents and kids are still top-notch. However, long-term, I'm realizing that it's not where I want my kids to be. I'd like my child to take classes with the smartest kids, whatever their socioeconomic status or color. It would make me particularly happy if that classroom was economically, racially and ethnically diverse. Because whether you like it or not, that's Riverside, California and that's America.