Class Warfare (Or: Checking My Privilege At The Door Of My Child's Education?)

Noa begins first grade in a few weeks in Manchester, a city where a much larger proportion of children and families are living in poverty than compared to the rest of the state of New Hampshire.  The difference in numbers is startling; from a study published in 2009 by the Carsey Institute I gleaned some numbers that may be a few years old but have likely not changed much: 

"The percentage of children in poverty in 2007 in new Hampshire (10 percent) was the lowest in the nation. Thus, it is surprising to find extremely high child poverty rates in some parts of the Manchester-Nashua metropolitan area. In the city of Manchester, 25 percent of all children lived below the poverty line in 2007." 

The entirety of reasons for this disparity are likely varied and highly debated, but the Carsey Institute study linked above surmises:

"In suburban Hillsborough County, 81 percent of families with children are married-couple households. In Nashua, 73 percent are. In Manchester, only 58 percent of families with children are married couples. Thus, the higher child poverty rates in Manchester are, in large part, a result of the larger proportion of single-parent families in the city."

I'm in that 42% of single parent families in Manchester, although I'm also straight, white, and cisgendered.  For a long time I was lucky to be in the group that was living fairly well above gross federal poverty level (I'd estimate we were typically living at just under or about 200% of the gross federal poverty line; you can see the breakdown of the poverty levels here). We were making ends meet, and though we weren't flush with disposable income we had (*and still have*) food, housing, clothing, and health insurance (mine through my prior employer, Noa's through New Hampshire Medicaid since the day she was born) as well as internet access, phones, and cable TV.  We had not only the necessities, but plenty of extras.  Shelves of books and multiple pairs of shoes may not be considered a luxury for many, but here's where that sneaky privilege thing comes in, because for MANY MANY families those are absolutely things they don't have the luxury of owning or obtaining.

I began my education in Lawrence, MA at the Weatherbee Elementary school.  People who say things like "I'm not racist but--" often call Manchester the Lawrence of NH; these are typically the same people who complain about the "hispanics migrating north."  It's fairly disgusting, yes.  It's also fairly common, which is depressing.  (NOTE TO SELF:  Stop reading the comments on local news stories! EVERYONE IS A TROLL!)  I did fine at Weatherbee; I was much like Noa as a kid, reading early and well, and psyched to learn about anything and everything.  My family moved to Salem, NH when I was in second grade (the white poor migrating north!  GAH!) and I fully understand how different my experience in Salem schools was than it would have been in Lawrence.  I also fully understand, though, that Salem wasn't a poor city struggling to get it's kids through school.  It's far from the best school district in the state, but it's yards ahead of Lawrence.  Would I have turned out the same if I'd stayed there for my entire education?  As a student of the Salem School District I didn't even end up attending college, although I did graduate high school.  

There are eleven public elementary schools in Manchester and the one Noa will be attending is McDonaugh; it's rated pretty much in the middle.  The problem is that while it's rated in the middle of the group for this city, it's hardly up to par when compared to the rest of the state, and in a city already struggling to provide quality education for it's children the loss of ninety-five teachers last year due to budget cuts was a brutal blow.  A 2012 New York Times article about the battle for solutions to Manchester's education crisis stated 

"With more than 15,000 students, Manchester is the largest school district in the state, serving about 1 in 12 of its public school students, district officials say. Once, the city drew money from the large business tax base of its mill economy, now defunct. Since then, the district’s growth has not kept up with its tax revenues, and Manchester now has some of the state’s lowest per-pupil spending, at $10,283.77 per student (the state average is $13,159.15)."

When she began kindergarten last year I had the option of sending Noa to McDonaugh, or paying through my ass for private school.  There were a few things that tipped the balance for us; one of them was that I was working 9-11 hour workdays and public kindergarten was only 8:45am-2pm.  This meant I'd have had to find a way to get Noa to and from school and to and from either the Y or the Boys And Girl's Club, where I'd end up paying almost as much as the kindergarten programs there cost.  The other thing that helped make the choice for me was when Matt and I visited McDonaugh and took a tour with the vice principal; she was very clear about what the kindergarten population there was like. She bluntly said "She may be in class with kids who have never opened a book.  If you're looking for enrichment this may not be exactly what would best suit you."  

And you know what?  I WAS looking for enrichment.  I DID want her to have the chance to focus on what she's great at.  And as much as it has invoked self-loathing and guilt in me, I didn't want her stuck in a classroom with kids who didn't fully know the alphabet when she was actually able to read.  I didn't want her to be 1 of 100 kindergartners in that huge school.  

So I went to an open house at the downtown YMCA and was really psyched about their kindergarten program;  I liked the small classes, the hands-on teaching approach, their reading and math success rates of kids leaving their kindergarten compared to the public schools.  I know that test scores (especially at that age) aren't hugely reliable and can be easily skewed, but when someone says "More children graduating from our program are reading, and at higher levels" it's tough to shrug and say "Whatever."  The YMCA kindergarten program also worked for our schedule; early mornings and late afternoon/early evenings were basically daycare, but within the groups they were in school with for the day.

So because I COULD, I chose to send Noa to kindergarten there.  I spent about 30% of my monthly income on that choice, and I felt like shit knowing that for many families "touring" the public school and then "deciding" where to send their children isn't an option.  I felt like I was being classist; that by opting to not send her into a classroom with kids who hadn't been given the same chances as her, like private daycares from 10 months old on, chosen specifically because they focused on cultivating learning and not just "playing" all day (which, it should be noted, were often paid for in part by the state) I was denouncing my community, my neighbors.  I started to wonder often if Noa's affinity for letters, words, reading, writing were natural to her or things she was lucky to have had the chance to develop since toddlerhood because we had the gift of books, fantastic private teachers, and time to read and play and explore together.  I wasnt working three jobs to make ends meet, so I had time to spend with her that I know I'm blessed to have had.

So now here we are, and for a multitude of reasons (I'm unemployed, we're still living in the same neighorhood, etc etc) Noa will be starting first grade soon at the school I shunned for her kindergartnerhood. She left the Y not only reading, but reading books that are labelled for ages 8-12.  She's a bright, curious, enchanted child who lives to learn.  About anything.

And part of me worries that she won't have an opportunity to thrive at this new school, that she'll be lost and overlooked, and part of me feels like an asshole for feeling like that.  

I try to keep my privilege in check as much as possible but this is a point that I always feel icky about.

The choices we make for our kids-- when we're lucky enough to have those choices available in the first place-- are of utmost importance, but am I worrying too much about these choices, or not enough?  Now that I'm unemployed Noa is officially among the 1 in 4 Manchester children living far below the poverty line. Do I have any right to act as though the economic status of this city, this neighborhood, this public school where she'll begin her "real" education, aren't good enough for us?  

I do have that right, as anybody does.  But are we all drawing lines in the sand and assuming that the poor communities around us deserve the below-par educations that they typically get?  That if families "want" more they could automatically have more?  That, forgive me, "you get what you deserve," but we're all exempt from that blanket statement because we all deserve more than the poor people next door?

The poor stay poor for a million reasons, and these schools stay sub-par for a zillion more.  I'm lucky that I've had choices in the past to make about Noa's education, and that I likely (hopefully) will in the future, and in the meantime I hope that she's able to grow and thrive within an environment that may be less than ideal for her.  I'll keep my ears and eyes open for opportunities to leave this city that has become stunted in so many ways, and hope for the best.

I'll also, in the meantime, do the best I can to keep my privilege in check, knowing that I'll often fail.  Knowing that I want more for my child--- but that I don't want her to ever think she deserves more than the child next to her because of where we come from, how much money we have, the language we speak, the color of our skin, the number and gender of the parents she has, and a multitude of other variables.  

I'll do the best I can to balance my guilt with common sense, to find the best possible opportunities for this little being I've created to grow and thrive and mature into an adult who can navigate the socio-economic nuances of this crazy world with care and grace.

   

GOOP Edition! (Or: Shit I'm Super Into)

Some of these may fall under the umbrella of "life hacks" but since that expression is bizarre and a little creepy I'll just say these are things I'm super into, and you should be grateful that I'm sharing my secrets.  Say thankyou, ingrates.

1) BEHOLD:  The glass jar speaker enhancement system!  I love my iPhone (fine, I want to french it but it isn't waterproof) but it sounds like shit when I listen to... ANYTHING on it.  Tinny and hissy and just overall crappy.  The louder I turn up the volume the shittier it sounds.  The Glass Jar Speaker Enhancement System magnifies the sound and makes it a little fuller, and as long as you don't turn it up too loud it sounds 100x better than the phone on it's own.   Perfect for listening to your Bryan Adams Pandora station, NPR news stories, or audio you took of your girlfriend talking in her sleep.  You can also use a short drinking glass for the same result.

2)  SUGAR!  It's good for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and it makes a great snack, too.  But beyond it's nutritional benefits it also makes a kickass facial scrub.  Just gritty enough to work well, but not so gritty that it sands off the top layer of your skin.  A fresh complexion = good.  Top layer of facial skin missing = bad.  Don't do this if you have severe acne or facial rashes of any kind because it will just irritate it and possibly leave open sores on your skin.  NO GOOD.

3) "Homemade" foaming hand soap.  It may not really be homemade but it's saved me assloads of money.  Noa was using ridiculous amounts of hand soap and even buying the cheapest stuff they make-- and giant refills-- we were still going through it stupidly fast and then I read somewhere on the interwebs that mixing one part Dr Bronner's castile soap with three parts water in a foaming soap dispenser makes kickass hand soap.  Just buy one bottle of the cheapest foaming soap you can find and when it runs out keep the bottle; feel free to jazz it up with stickers or Swarovski crystals or whatever.  Put the water in first and add the Bronner's AFTER, otherwise it foams up and runs out of the dispenser.  One 32 oz bottle of Dr Bronner's that I got for $14 on Amazon has lasted months.  I expect to not run out until at least 2016, at which point I'll just take my flying car to Target to buy another bottle of the Doc B.  I like the lavender kind the best, because lavender is like the little black dress of scent:  always in style, perfect for any occasion, and verrrry sexy.  

4)  I'm scared of regular deodorant/antiperspirant ever since I learned that aluminum is very likely not good for our bodies.  Plus, our bodies are made specifically TO perspire, so eliminating that process is just strange and also very likely not super good for us.  I tried a few different alternatives to the Suave baby powder scented crap I'd been using since I was about twelve but wasn't too into any of them;  the hops in the Tom's of Maine stuff stained my armpits yellow after a few weeks (oddly, I'm the only person I know of that has had this problem-- and I tried on multiple occasions to use it again after taking breaks, and continued to get Yellow Pit Syndrome), the lemongrass and baking powder "bar" I tried made my armpits sting and the smell was way too strong (and the "bar" crumbled and made a huge mess everywhere), and trying a deodorant powder wasn't strong enough.  I was piss-pants happy when I discovered Lush's Aromaco deodorant bar, because a) IT WORKS!  b) it doesn't leave any creepy residue or stains behind and c) it's cheap and lasts a long time.  It's made with baking soda, witch hazel, chamomile vinegar, and patchouli oil.  If you hate patchouli don't come within a mile of this stuff; I've been using it for months and I'm immune to the smell now but other people comment on it sometimes.  I couldn't care less, but that's just me.  If you've been using antiperspirant for a long time you might not be used to feeling a little damp under the arms, but that's easily remedied with a little powder slapped on that shit.  Just make sure you use something that doesn't have talc in it, because (health alert!) that has also been shown not to be good for us, especially when breathed in.  I might be a Lush fanatic, but I really like their Coconut powder; it smells sooooo good, has no talcum powder in it, and lasts a long time.  Anyway.  Sorry I want to make out with Lush.  

5)  TP facial blotting paper.  Don't be one of those people who buys super expensive little sheets of fancy blotting tissue stuff, because TIP:  toilet paper works just as well.  Humidity at 95%?  Skin squirting grease at a startling rate?  Toilet paper that shit and move on.  

6) OH MY GOD YOU GUYS, SUNBLOCK WIPES!!!!!!!!!   Sorry about the yelling and the exclamation abuse, but I literally peed my pants when I discovered these (and by "literally" I actually mean "figuratively").  Noa was using like 3 cans a week of the spray stuff at camp (counselors aren't allowed to help the kids put it on because NO TOUCHING and I'm fairly certain Noa was just spraying it into the air all day for the hell of it), and she wasnt using the lotion stuff the right way (just kind of half-assedly slapping some onto, like, one arm and half of one leg).  If there's one thing I hate more than how expensive sunblock is it's buying shitloads of it and seeing my kid STILL come home with a burn.  Sunblock wipes are PERFECTION-- she can keep a couple in her pocket, it's super easy to use, and one wipe covers her whole body.  I didn't even know such a miracle existed until a few weeks ago, but it has changed our lives.  Well, it has changed the way we apply sunblock, which has changed .000256% of our lives

7a)  Homemade fabric refresher!  WHOA!  Fuck Febreze; it's spendy and chemical ridden.  Take a spray bottle and mix some water and a little lavender oil and hoooooly shit, spray everything in your home not made of plastic or wood and sit back and enjoy how fucking awesome everything smells.  URGENT NOTE:  there's nothing nice in our apartment and nothing I'm worried about "ruining" (it's all been ruined, there's just no ruining left to be done) but I can give you some warning advice.   a) I wouldn't spray it on your computer.  Sorry.  That has to stay stinky.  b) shake it well before using it.  c) if you have fancy shit made of, like, satin or silk or rhino skin or whatever, I'd make sure the oil won't ruin it.  This warning has been brought to you by Not Being Mad At Me Because You Sprayed Oil All Over Your New Suede Couch And Ruined It.  

7b) Another kind of homemade fabric refresher!  Tea tree oil has natural anti-bacterial properties, and bacteria is usually what made stuff like sports bras and sneakers smell kind of undesirable after a while.  SOLUTION:  Tea tree oil and water in a spray bottle.  Spray that shit down when you take it off, and it won't smell like a camel when you wear it again because the laundromat is too far away to be bothered with.  Please see warnings a, b, and c above.  

              "Mmmmm, your bra smells so good!"  

                                (No, I know!) 

8)  Paper towels.  They clean up messes, but more importantly:  when you run out of coffee filters {for three months} paper towels work just as well!  You can thank my boyfriend for this special tip.  I didn't know Paper Towel Coffee Filters were a thing before I saw him do it a couple months ago.  Maybe this is something everyone already knows; if so, I apologize for wasting your time with the obvious.   ps-  When you run out of paper towels {for three weeks} you can also use cheap shitty napkins as coffee filters!  AMAZEMENT!

I think that's it for Top Secret Amy Mash life tips.  If I think of any more I'll let you know.  Otherwise,  stop buying hand soap, fabric refresher, and coffee filters and send me a thank you card for being a good friend.  

I Did Not Vomit On The Bus! (Or: Another Day Bites The Dust)

I've lived in Manchester without a car for three years now.  You may be surprised to know that it's never occurred to me to utilize the city's buses, or if you know me well you're likely unsurprised by this because if there's one thing I excel at it's overlooking the obvious.  I like to pretend it's because I'm super smart; my brain space is taken up by so many hugely important thoughts that other smaller things just have no space in there.

Pretending is fun, guys!

My boyfriend helps whenever he can but he has a job (bastard) that he has to drive all over the place for, and he's not exactly at my service when I'm like "I need some new lip gloss, y'all."  There's plenty of things within walking distance of where I live-- a laundromat a half mile away, a grocery store a mile and a half away-- but the problem becomes how to transport laundry and groceries home with my two weak girly hands.  I noticed recently that lots of people roaming the streets around here have these nifty basket things on wheels with a handle (NOT a stolen shopping cart.  Quit being an asshole.) and I was like "LIGHTBULB! DING!  I need one of those!"

So today I decided to walk downtown and catch a bus to the mecca of cheap shit: Walmart.  I was going to get myself one of those rolly basket cart things, goddammit!  I looked up the twelve bus routes in Manch Angeles and figured that the Eight was what I wanted.  It left from the Radisson downtown at 1pm today, so at 12:30 I set out to stroll downtown and find my destiny.

Only when I got to the end of my street I realized the sky looked like it was about to rain fire and brimstone upon me, so I hustled back home to grab my adorable clear bubble umbrella.  I'm always dying to use it because seriously, it's adorable, but as a general rule it only rains when I don't have it with me.  SOOO....by going home to get it I ensured that there was a 100% chance there was zero chance I'd end up needing it.

                                                       Ri-Ri:  Always prepared!

Guess who was right about going home for the umbrella precluding the need for an umbrella?  Yeah.  Me.  Always me, guys.  Here's what the sky looked like when I got close to the bus stop:

Hardly the apocalyptic storm I'd sensed on leaving my house TWENTY MINUTES BEFORE.  But it's a good thing I turned around for that umbrella, because it made me juuuust late enough that I saw the Eight pulling out as I approached the stop at 1:02 pm.

But fear not-- ain't nobody gonna break my striiiiide, ain't nobody gonna hold me down, whoa-no, I've got to keep on mooovin'! I sat on a bench and worked on my tan (by "tan" I mean sunburn and freckles) and enjoyed the scenenery:  two super old dudes making each other laugh hysterically, which was adorable although I'm fairly certain they were telling filthy jokes because they kept looking around guiltily.  "Sweet Caroline" blaring from the PA in the park across the street for no reason at all (I had to restrain myself from jumping up and yelling "SO GOOD! SO GOOD!").  Two kids making out.  Like, staring into each others' eyes longingly and murmuring sweet nothings to each other ("Is your mom home? Let's go back there and MAKE LOVE.").

Another bus heading where I wanted to go was coming at 1:30, so I didn't stress about it, and at 1:25 the bus pulled in and a beam of light shone from the heavens and angels sang. I was on my way to GLORY!  I picked the only seat open that faced front, because I was feng shui-ing my bus seating.  I was facing THE FUTURE!

The bus driver was adorable.  When we pulled away he used the PA to say "Next stop: the moon" and then cackled hysterically.  I briefly considered riding the bus all day just to see if he says that every single time the route starts, but I had THINGS TO DO.  My future beckoned me, from a nationwide chain store that abuses and underpays it's employees.  Keep it in perspective, people:  I needed a rolly cart.  I listened in horror and amusement as my fellow passengers passionately discussed "building a giant wall around the border and only letting in the Mexicans who speak English."  GAH!  I'd happened upon the political debate bus!  *I pulled the "let me off" cord but the bus driver pretended to ignore me because he hates me and was punishing me.  (*This didn't happen.)

We got there at 2pm and I strolled into Walmart like I had just been promoted to Lady Resovoir Dog (Resovoir Bitch?), but without a sexy cigarettes because I stopped that crap. 

I was all "Let's DO this shit!" which should have been my first sign of trouble, because every time I think/say "Let's do this shit!" no shit ever gets done.  Ever.

I started scouting for the rolly cart that would change my life.  This was going to be a gamechanger.  Things were going to be different; I was going to roll my laundry down the street to the laundromat in style!  And then the people who work at Walmart and ruin lives were like "That doesn't exist.  I don't know what you're talking about."  I refused to give in to their lies and betrayal, so I searched the store.

Luggage department?  No rolly carts.  Laundry department?  No rolly carts.  Outdoor gear department? No rolly carts.  HOWEVER- a large volume of camo gear which I briefly felt a need for.  Then I opted out because I decided I don't want to get shot the next time I'm in the woods.  Camo = bad.  

Without the rolly cart I couldn't buy cheap bulk snacks for Noa's summer camp.  Without the rolly cart my trip was in vain, because I'd have to walk a mile home from the bus stop once I got back downtown.  Without the rolly cart everything was sad and bleak and empty.  *I kicked over a display case of Gatorade because it would be too heavy to carry home, and I really need it to legally enhance my jogging performance.  (*This didn't happen, but I wish it had.)

I dragged myself sadly around the store and got some toothpaste and new toothbrushes.  At 2:55 I got back on another bus to take me downtown.  There were no forward facing seats this time so I sat in a sideways-facing seat toward the back, hanging my head in shame because all my dreams had been shattered.

                                                WOMP WOMP WOOOOOOMP.

But!  Surprise Twist:  It turns out I get bus sick when I'm not facing forward, guys!  I focused on not barfing.  I took the toothpaste out of the bag so I had something to barf in.  I focused more on not barfing.  The bus stopped at the mall and the mad hydraulics on that thing that lower it to the ground when people are getting on almost pushed me to the egde.  I gagged.  But I did not vomit.

The bus dropped me off where my journey had begun at 3:30 pm.  I slugged along the road, angry about my lack of a rolly cart.  I got home a little before 4 and sadly opened the bag of Cheesy Garlic Bread chips that I'd purchased.  Oh, did I forget to mention those?  Don't worry, they're shitty.  I want my $2.29 back, Lays.

Downside:  I spent 3.5 hours walking and taking busses all over the goddamn place only to fail at my mission.
Upside:  I got toothpaste.
Downside: I almost vomited on the bus.
Upside: I did not vomit on the bus.

So there you have it.  The better part of my day in a (fairly wordy) nutshell.

I am rolly cartless.

Apologies, I have to go now.  There's a shopping cart somewhere with my name allllllll over it!  (I'm going to return it, quit being an asshole.)