The Suburban Education Wasn't the Answer

I thought I was doing a good thing. Moving out to the suburbs. Putting my kids in the same kind of school environment I was placed in as a child. I didn't really think about it much. All I thought was, "hey, I am allowing them access to a really good education and they will be safe." This is the rhetoric I would repeat to myself as I enrolled my son in the same program my momma enrolled us in. Chapter 220. A program in Milwaukee, Madison, Racine, and Wausau, WI that has existed since 1976 and has provided additional funding to schools and districts to improve on racial imbalances by drawing minority students into non-minority districts or schools. Basically, minorities (blacks, hispanics, asians) are sent to suburban schools and suburban kids could go to schools in the inner city. Extra funding was provided for school districts participating in this exhange, likely, unbeknownst to many utilizing this program. Many parents sent their children to these schools for a better educational opportunity. This is the rhetoric I repeated to myself as I forcefully convinced my ex-husband that the only option is to move to the suburban district my son was already attending school in because the Chapter 220 program no longer was allowing entry in the district. The quota had been met. Their minority threshold was greater than 30%, so their duty was fulfilled in that regard. They did not have to allow anymore inner city students into the school; they had achieved adequate integration. You had to live in the district or apply for Open Enrollment to get a seat in the district, and open enrollment wasn't guaranteed. 
My son attended school in the Milwaukee Public School district (MPS) for grades K3 and K4. My girls attended MPS for head-start through 1st grade. I would say I was as involved in their education as I could be. I volunteered, I chaperoned on field trips, I'd show up randomly, I knew their teachers, and their teachers knew who I was. I would be frustrated by things like the conditions of the classrooms, the kids walking in the hallway cursing at other kids and teachers, the kid in my daughter's classroom throwing chairs, the girl in my other daughter's classroom harassing her because I only bought her a tattoo while on the field trip and not a sweat shirt, the incessant bullying because someone doesn't have a particular brand of shoes, clothes, etc. Frustration from lack of access to activities, paying for Girl Scouts, but no actual activity occurring within the group; a young boy hitting my son and my son punching him in the neck. I felt the need to protect my children and give them the opportunity to have the best education without having to pay college tuition prices. I mean, college is expensive enough. This seemed like the best choice. 

Why, Though? 

Glad you asked. 

Now, one may ask, why did I think this suburban education was better? I based it on my own experience. Plus, when you are a poor black kid growing up, you don't want to go back there. I remember, like yesterday attending my new suburban school. It really was a brand new school. First, I should back up to the school I attended before that. I grew up in Milwaukee. Kindergarten was at Hopkins Street Elementary. First through 3rd grade was at Victor Berger Elementary, now known as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Elementary School. I remember my teachers there. Mrs. Fitzgerald, Mrs. Bartee, and Mrs. Brown. I remember the "special" class I would attend because I was considered "gifted," the lady who taught it was Ms. Lemon. There were a couple of mixed kids in the school, but everyone else was black, just like me. Mrs. Brown was black too, the other teachers were white. These are things you remember from childhood. Most of the time, things felt familiar. People looked like me, people talked like me. I did stand out for being smart. I remember being picked on for it. I remember getting into fights many days after school. I was an overachiever, and I learned to be tough. I remember demerit cards, getting good grades, winning awards. 

This Ain't MPS. My Experience.

My momma didn't even tell us we were going to a new school the next year. I can tell you what I wore that first day. Plaits, or as I liked to call them, dookie braids, and this blue two-piece long skirt with flowers and ruffles. My momma walked me, my brother and sister to our bus stop. Bus stop? This was new. Our bus stop was on 39th & Meineke with S.J., the goofiest kid ever. We never rode a school bus before, we just walked to our old school. I don't remember being nervous. I just remember the longest bus ride in life. We rode on the freeway, we rode past farms, and big homes. We finally arrived in this place I had never heard of at 9 years old: Franklin, WI. Our school was brand new. It was called Southwood Glen. We would be the first students in the school. The shock was how many white people I saw! Well, it had to be ok. There were more people that looked like me on the inside of the school, right? Wrong. There were two 4th grade classes. I was the only black kid in my class and S.J. was the only black kid in his class. At 9 years old though, you don't focus on how different you are until it is made known by others. I felt I acclimated well initially. I made some friends right away. I was no longer going to "special" classes because I was not the smartest in the class, oh, but I was definitely one of the smartest. I immediately became competitive with myself and anyone I felt that was smarter than I was. The lunch was better in Franklin. The classroom was more stringent, people focused, it was a bit more quiet. I found out that first year how different I was. I remember liking a boy, B.P., we'll call him. I can't remember who I told, but someone told him I liked him. He told them "I can't like that nigger girl." Yep. At 9 years old, in the 4th grade, I would be referred to as "nigger girl." How does a 9 year old boy learn this? He obviously had heard this before. He could have just said he didn't like me. Instead, it was this hateful sentence that has stayed with me all this time. So, my education would include better books, strict curriculum,  and how to deal with racism. Interesting. This wasn't MPS. 
Now, I was not hurting for friends. I was sociable. I just learned then, don't like the white boys because they will call you "nigger girl." My momma never told me not to like the white boys, but I learned then, I probably shouldn't. If I did, don't tell them, they won't like you back. I didn't let that one incident get me down. I learned a life lesson at 9 years old. 1995 was the year. I would become Student Council President at Southwood Glen in 5th grade, it was pretty cool. I'd go to birthday parties in Franklin, sleepovers. I always ended up back home though. I mean, I was still this black girl feeling transplanted into this white space temporarily. I still had fights in my neighborhood. My speech became more proper "or white," according to my peers. I remember one of my cousins calling me "white girl." I was in this perpetual state of not quite belonging in places, but fitting in places. It would be a theme for years to come. I guess this was considered better education though. I was learning more than I did before. No one made fun of my clothes either in Franklin. I saw that the white kids didn't care if you had Jordans, which was good because I never owned a pair. They had high water pants and wore their shoes with duct tape on them. That would not fly at MPS. 
By time middle school arrived, I met more black kids. This was usually on the bus, at lunch time and recess. What I realized is, you could take us temporarily out of the hood, but we were still hood per se. A lot of us still went home to our poor neighborhoods. The socioeconomic struggles that affected us did not disappear because we went to school in the 'burbs. There were cliques within the Chapter 220 kids even. Now that I think of it, we isolated ourselves in an environment where we were already isolated. Transitional years, like entry into middle or high school (6th or 9th grade) would usually bring in new students to the district. It was like fresh meat. The kids that have been in the system since the elementary years have adjusted somewhat, but there are those that just enter in their middle school years and have no idea how different it is. Fighting in these schools is not the norm, but it happens. No security guards, no one to appropriately break them up.  I don't remember there being a metal detector at my high school in Franklin. Oh, Franklin High School during my time. I had a lot of fun while it lasted. I was studious, a cheerleader my freshman year, part of clubs. I was in the top 10% of my class academically.  I would also be called a nigger again. Yep, again. I remember this boy's face. This time, two upper classmen, one a girl and one a boy, put him in his place. I thought there was going to be a riot or something. I just remember the boy being scared shitless and coming back to apologize. He wasn't really sorry, he was just afraid. Remember, the districts get funded for students in these seats and if you are performing well, it's not as easy to exit. If you are a trouble maker, it may be easier for you to leaver versus you being a better performing kid. I found myself in a quandry. Unfortunately, I would be expelled for fighting my sophomore year. 

Back to MPS

I would go on to attend North Division my junior year of high school. School here was definitely different. Lunch was better at Franklin. There were a lot of kids in the hallway during class time. I was immediately recognized as "fresh meat," but I wasn't treated badly. Remember, I was sociable, so making friends wouldn't prove difficult. I joined the track team, participated in clubs. My entire goal was to graduate with enough credits because I missed almost two entire semesters of school from being expelled. I did go to summer school to catch up on some credits. The classroom environment at North was different than Franklin. There were a lot of class clowns. I found that the work they were doing junior year was equivalent to what I had done already my freshman year in a lot of classes. I couldn't continue the Spanish because I was too far ahead. Everything was too easy because I had already learned it. I kind of felt like I was back at Victor Berger and needed Ms. Lemon again. I was challenged in some classes like math and chemistry. I would be one of the few students that actually turned in the assignments when it was due. I entered the school second of the class and graduated valedictorian. It wasn't all peaches and cream though. Fights occurred. I remember getting to school and there was a long line to actually enter. I asked what was going on and it was "metal detector day." Oh, I had never heard of such a thing. This wasn't Franklin. Well, a couple of people got arrested that day. The support at this school was phenomenal because the staff understood the students had real life issues. Some students were parents, or were taking care of siblings, or working.  I did like having black teachers. Black mentors. I needed that, because according to society I could have just been a statistic. That requires a different blog post. 

So, It followed Me

I would go on to Cardinal Stritch for Nursing, where there were very few black people. I would go to Marquette University for Physician Assistant Studies. No other black people in my class. I was the 5th black person to complete the program out of the 10 classes, at least according to the program pictures they have posted. I would work in environments where I would be the literal minority. It's not the easiest thing being the only, or one of few, who looks like you doing what you do. This will be a whole different topic, remind me to blog on this later. 

I subjected My Kids

I remember my daughters asking if their teachers were brown when they first entered the second grade at their new suburban school. The last name of one of their teachers was Polish and my response was, "unless they married a Polish dude, probably not." They came home from school so excited the first day saying, "momma, I saw some other brown kids at recess!" It didn't really hit me that she would be so excited by seeing someone that looked like her. 
Then talking to my son, now a sophomore, very mature, doing extremely well academically, he says he wishes he attended a different high school. Black kids say he "acts white." He says he doesn't want to change schools because it's too late and he has associates, but he gets tired of not seeing people that look like him. He likes to be challenged academically as well. 

It's a tough position to be in as a parent. In the hastiness of rash thinking, wanting the best, trying to protect, I have subconsciously subjected my children to a lifestyle of social isolation. In the same breath, I was doing what I thought best at the time. The whole balance of the Libra scales of life. That book of parenting totally skipped that chapter. My children are literally the minority in their neighborhood and school. I can tell them with all kinds of vivid imagery where they come from as black kids. I sat and realized I cannot tell them how to survive in words. I have to build up their character and teach them strength.  I can tell them they have the right to be everywhere I take them. That does not mean someone else will try and tell them they do not belong somewhere. I am their only mentor that looks like them within arm's reach because their teachers do not look like them. Yeah, they can look on television or to the media, but a real life mentor. I cannot prepare them for the time a white person in the city where I pay taxes on a house I own may call my babies a nigger. That hit me. They may not tell me. I did not tell my momma. I'm going to ask them. Well, I asked my son, and he has not experienced this so far. I have to protect them, I have to find a happy medium, and I will. 

How Do We Change This Thinking

I had never really thought about the "why" when it came to my kids being in the suburban schools until recently. See, my thinking has always been on the extreme ends.I associated my inner city education with negative experiences more than positive and that isn't fair. . My whole adult focus became narrow with my own kids, the thinking didn't go deep, I wanted them safe. I did not want my kids subjected to going to school having to fight, being concerned about what they are wearing, bullying, I want them to actually learn and have access to a quality education. There are positive happenings with schools in MPS and I am a product of MPS when it's all said and done. We have to highlight the positive and find ways to strengthen our education system. Parents being involved and talking to their children more about the issues bothering them, their school work, what is going on in their life. Visible role models are important. I grew up thinking white people just had it better. That they were more smart and rich as a child. I didn't see any black person that made it until high school. No one was relatable. We all can love the singers and athletes, but our children are more likely to be our future teachers, social workers, nurses, doctors, entrepreneurs, politicians, lawyers. They need to see people that look like us be present in their schools and environment so they have hope and motivation to do well. I became a nurse because I had a teacher who was a nurse when I was at North Division. We need to create positive learning environments. Doing well academically should get praised as highly as performing well athletically. It does not fall solely on teachers. There is a significant amount that falls onto the parent. 

Final Thoughts, Although There May be More

I think when I weigh the good and the bad, I have inadvertently subjected my kids to something they don't have to be. We live in one of the most segregated cities in the U.S. The likelihood that my children will hear something directed toward them negatively based on their skin color is high enough for it to be 2016. It happened to me in the 1990s. Did I turn out fine? Sure I did. Sending my child to a suburban school is predisposing them to social isolation, lack of role models that look like them, views of societal oppression at its worse, inadequate curriculum on Black history. The solution is greater than picking up and moving to the burbs. While there has been progression and tolerance, we definitely have not achieved equality because there are disparities affecting our educational system in Milwaukee and there is a racial correlation.I have to teach my kids to rise above despite the obstacles but amongst their own people. The world may be tough on them despite their achievements and I can tell them about that at least. Like no matter my credentials, I will always have to prove my worth harder than my white counterparts. People hate to have this discussion, talk about these things, but this is something that needs to be discussed. Not made secret. I hate when people say we need to not make things about color when our country has been dividing and sorting people based on color and class since its modern existence. The change begins with us, all of us, most importantly with me and mine. Going from the hood to the burbs is not the answer.

Whew, that was a lot of purging.