No Child (of mine) Left Behind

There is one day a year that I can go to Jasper's classroom, like a normal mom. Usually Peter does the drop-off, letting him out at the corner so he can get Josie to school by 8 am. Then Jasper goes to an after school program at Joe's Movement Emporium, so we rarely see the inside of his school during school hours. On Columbus Day, however, which PG County has decided to ignore (a decision which I support. Columbus was a great explorer and all, but... a national Holiday?!), and DC honors (a decision which I support. I mean... Day Off!), I can actually observe and see what his day is like. It's a rare opportunity which I can't pass up.

Jasper does not like school. He has a veteran teacher who is warm, a musician, loves kids, but is returning to the classroom because they cut his reading specialist position, so it's not by his own choice. I know Jasper has a large class (28) with no aide... But I wanted to get a sense of why he comes home complaining every day that school is "boring."

So at the end of our morning routine, instead of dropping Jasper at the corner while I rushed Josie to school, I left Josie (who had a fever) at home with dad, and headed out the door with my son. Cup of tea in one hand, Jasper in the other, we walked up the street with dozens of other families, past the first glimmers of fall colors on the Japanese maples. It felt like such a sane routine. Of course. I am the parent. I drink tea. I walk my child to school. We have a conversation. Then I go to work. In an ideal world, I would then retrieve my child from school at a reasonable hour, like 2:30, and then we would have another conversation, drink more tea, have a relaxed afternoon. But that's not how it goes. (Except on Columbus Day.)

I had heard the numbers (1:28) and expected to be appalled. This is not a ratio that works. Even the most master teacher will be unable to differentiate instruction and meet everyone's needs, give every child the attention they deserve, with these odds. But it could have been worse. Mr. Pugliese had finally arranged the desks in small clusters, so there was a bit more moving space in the room than on Back to School Night. The walls were appropriately populated with spelling words, math symbols and vocabulary, number grids, children's work. This was not a classroom in crisis. The teacher's desk took up about 1/6th of the room... but at least it was at the back of the room, and not the front.

Mr. Pugliese is confident, warm, experienced (he's well into his 50s). Now, I realize that he may not show his true colors when a parent is in the classroom, but Jasper doesn't talk about him yelling, and often describes him doing funny things to get their attention. Mr. P's classroom management is from an era or for another population of children. He calls out kids' names, asks repeatedly for their attention, talks over their chatter... He could use a few tricks and teach the kids a few routines. But generally I found the kids to be responsive, respectful, bright, engaged. But it's a large and needy class.

I was busy the whole time I was there, circulating to make sure kids were on task, tying shoes, redirecting behavior, translating terms on a test they were taking for a girl who did not understand English. What would they have done if I was not there? At some point another teacher came in to help administer the state IQ test, but she was not the classroom assistant. Most of the time it's just Mr. P and the kids, and lots of reminding, calling out names, talking over chatter.

So where is Jasper in all of this. Smack dab in the middle, sucking his lip, raising his hand and not calling out (at least when his mom is in the room), worrying desperately that he might "get on red" at any minute if he acts out. I get the sense that there is a lot of filling out worksheets and waiting for the next direction. But it is not a problematic classroom. I've seen many of those. I've been the teacher in several of them.

I expected to be horrified and moved to action, but I found myself coming away satisfied. Not inspired or pleased, but resigned. It's not "great," but it's a little school that's doing the best it can for a needy community in tough educational times. PG County laid off 1,300 people last year. Class sizes are all around 30. Even kindergarten doesn't have an assistant. Mt. Rainier Elementary is doing a pretty great job all considering.

But Jasper doesn't like school, and for a first grader to not like school is a crime against humanity. Should we move to a neighborhood with a school with a great reputation (and pay a thousand dollars more per month in rent for half the space) with the hopes that with proper instruction he'll feel challenged and inspired? Do we move to DC and play the lottery? Do I work my ass off to change the charter law so that he can have preference to get into my school? Should we get our act together to be advocates for our kids and do everything we can to make sure they are in the "right" (aka "best"?) school?

Or do we let him continue to have an average public school experience?

Jasper is the only white kid in his class. I get the sense that most of the white folks in our neighborhood don't have school age kids or send their kids to private schools, or magnet schools in the county. They haven't chosen the "average" Mt. Rainier Elementary. I wonder if there is an inherent value, that cannot be replicated by a master teacher in the most resourced of schools, of experiencing what it is like to be a "minority" as a white male in this country. Even if Jasper is not constructing his understanding in small groups of gifted peers, maybe he's getting a higher quality experience of what it means to live in America in this century. Perhaps this is preparing him to engage with his society and community. We can teach him to read and love books and solve math problems and engage in scientific inquiry at home... But we can't teach him how to be himself within a culture that is not his own. Somehow I suspect that he's getting a GREAT education at an average school. But I am not sure.

And then there's the question of Josie, who is loving school in her affluent Montessori school on Capitol Hill. We pay 1,300/ month for her to have amazing attention, direct her own learning, play in a safe, nurturing environment. But next year we could push her into kindergarten at Mt. Rainier. Would this be throwing her to the wolves? Or is it time for Josie to start her real education?