The Education of a Public School Parent

“Ms. Kane always makes kids feel proud—lots of the teachers do,” Grace told us. “That’s why all the walls in the hallways are filled with everyone’s work. If a kid isn’t good at something, Ms. Kane finds something they are good at, or she puts them with a partner so they can do a good job together. Plus, Ms. Kane always has the best treasure box, with things like Tootsie Pops, and everybody wants to work hard to get something from the treasure box.”

Everyone at Lyndale seemed engaged. The staff, ably guided by energetic principal Ossie James, worked as a team in an amazing way. My husband and I did a fair amount of volunteering at the school, and it was clear to us that practically everyone—including the art and gym teachers, the school nurse, and the front office workers—cared deeply about those kids, often going beyond the call of duty. For example, Sandy Rader, the music teacher, spent her summers working at a great camp. Each spring, she brought camp registration forms to school for her “Lyndale kids,” promising them a spot whether their families could afford it or not.

Grace learned her state capitals, catapulted forward in math, and was taught the secrets of writing a good five-part essay. There was no academic dilly-dallying; we were convinced that the knowledge and skills she learned at Lyndale would provide a solid foundation for her ascent into middle school and beyond.

Grace also learned how privileged her life is. One evening at bedtime, she was telling me about an after-school visit to a schoolmate’s apartment two blocks from our house. “Mom,” she said, “that apartment is really crowded. There’s her mom, three sisters, and one of her sisters has a baby.” She paused, then added, “But, Mom, they don’t have enough beds for everyone. How come?”

That wasn’t Grace’s first intimation that the world can be a harsh place, but it was very close to home. And more than once Grace told us that there wasn’t any food at a classmate’s house. When I’d hear that, I always said a prayer of thanks for the free breakfasts and lunches served in a seemingly stigma-free environment at school.

Carol Kane told me that the most destabilizing fact of life for the individual student, the classroom, and the school as a whole is transience. And, in fact, we watched many of Grace’s classmates come and go during that fifth-grade year. Often moms would fall behind on rent and abruptly have to move, or families would have to “move back with Grandma” in another part of town, or two single-mom families would decide to share an affordable apartment outside the school’s busing zone.

Many of Grace’s Lyndale friends were bright and industrious, but even the brightest, most industrious kids can fall behind and never catch up when they are worn out and overwhelmed by an uncertain or stressful situation at home. Changing schools in the middle of the year disrupts the continuity of their learning and disrupts both the classroom they left and the new one they join.

On our five-measure scale, Lyndale ranked high in every category for Grace. The only negative was Grace’s status as one of the school’s most affluent kids and the fact that, no matter what she did to bridge the gap between her and less fortunate kids, she often found herself segregated from most of her classmates. The sad truth was that going to the movies, enjoying a weekend at the cabin, or taking a spring break vacation was not part of most of her schoolmates’ lives. Overall, though, Lyndale proved to be a good life experience for our daughter. Everything about the year came together in a gestalt sort of way, and the whole was even greater than the sum of its parts.