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.