A reminder for when the idealism fades for neighborhood schools

Grand Rapids Public Schools; Grand Rapids, Mich.

By Meryl Herr

Guest writer

This year as winter lingered, quickly freezing any sign of spring, my passion for investing in our neighborhood public school grew cold. My hope, my idealism, my energy wore thin.  

When the cracks in my perseverance began to show, doubt seeped in and a familiar idea took root: “Do what’s best for your child, what’s best for your family.” Was this low-performing, under-resourced public school the best choice for my child?

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Relationships, presence matters at local public schools

By Stephanie Reeves
Guest writer

Orange County Public Schools; Orlando, Florida

Our high school sits nestled in the back of a low-income neighborhood, bordered by a Catholic church and run-down houses, many with jacked-up cars sitting in carports lined with discarded appliances and other paraphernalia of living.

It’s a neighborhood I wouldn’t necessarily feel comfortable walking in after dark.

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How public schools helped raise better prepared kids

 

By Beth Bruno, guest writer

Thompson School District

Fort Collins, Colorado

During the holidays, a local farmer runs a horse carriage service downtown. About 80,000 lights are strung on trees and the main street through Old Town turns magical. I finally took a carriage ride this year and the farmer doubles as a tour guide. He began with the piece of trivia we locals hear the most: “Walt Disney modeled Main Street, U.S.A. after our town.” […]

Why our family struggles with Schools of Choice

Just about every weekday morning, I drive 12 minutes south to an elementary school in a Lansing suburb. All my girls attend this year: it’s a K-4 public school. We love that place: the teachers and staff are warm and friendly, art class rocks, the field trips are fantastic, the principal welcomes kids by name as they unload from the drop-off line.

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It’d be all out of context, this future-knowing stuff

 

 

Louisa was hiding under a blanket on the couch. “Where’s my Weezy? Where’s Weezy?” I called from the kitchen. She giggled. I came in and tickled the foot that was sticking out. I scooped her up: “Weeza!” And in a moment, looking into her eyes, I remembered how impossible this moment seemed four years ago. And I thought, “Wouldn’t it have been lovely to have this snapshot then? Wouldn’t I have slept better? My God …”

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The three thousand who learn somewhere else, and we who live here anyway

I lugged a ladder around my house Monday morning, spraying vinegar water on the windows and wiping them clean with newspaper. It was the Sunday paper, and that matters because it wasn’t just the paper in my hands that left its ink on my fingers. I kept the front section on the front stoop under a Read more about The three thousand who learn somewhere else, and we who live here anyway[…]

Sharing life at home, and what that means

Sharing life — isn’t that the funniest phrase, if you dissect it? When the first few people (all church people; I’m not sure I’ve heard it outside that context) used that phrase with me, it stuck like an oddball thing to say: “Sharing life.” To share life means meals and chores or errands; possessions, maybe Read more about Sharing life at home, and what that means[…]