Safe and Suburban. What?
Before becoming a mother I was, to put it euphemistically, extremely opinionated (read: verging on cocky). Even if I had no basis for believing my view was absolutely the “right” view, I would fight hard to make others believe as much. That was before the reality check provided by the motherhood-learning-marathon. Now, I am often struck, a few years into my parenting journey, by how there is no other undertaking in life that forces a person to learn so many new things in such a short time. It is a humbling journey, to say the least, necessitating that one get off of one’s high horse immediately.
During the pre-mother era, when I was a newly engaged transport from Austin, Texas living in Connecticut, my then fiancée and I invited his friends to our new suspiciously suburban home for dinner (I had always promised myself that I'd stay "core"--living in the heart of whatever village/town/city I called "home"). After multiple glasses of Shiraz and stuffing ourselves with my somewhat desperate Mexico/Texas tribute dinner for which I had to substitute fresh corn tortillas with pathetic Connecticut super market flour tortillas and queso fresco with feta cheese, we engaged in a discussion, which turned into a “discussment” about education. That is, the type of education we wanted for our children. My fiancée and I were then speaking hypothetically. His friends were already parents. Their two sons, two and four at the time, spent, on average, eight hours a day in day care (I was careful, even then, despite my "honest" nature, and held off on my “down with daycare facilities” rant).
I was heated. I was irritated. I was indignant. I was self-righteous. They all, my husband included, were firm believers in the “send your child to the ‘safest’ possible school even if every single student in attendance was white and from an upper-middle-class socioeconomic background” philosophy of education. And when they said safe they weren’t just talking security. It was a philosophy in line with what they experienced. It was a philosophy that summed up what they knew. All three are doctors. All three are products of Ivy League education, of white suburban public high schooling.
At the time, I was working on a dissertation that explores the current state of the American classroom. I had spent time teaching in several different types of schools. I was certain about what I wanted for my unborn children: Quality PUBLIC SCHOOL EDUCATION.
My sister and I went to an outstanding public school in the heart of a midsized Midwestern city. We had friends from various cultural, economic, and familial backgrounds. Our teachers were nurturing, informed, and supportive. We drove in one straight line from our home to our high school and could continue on that straight line to my father’s office, my mother’s office, and our favorite restaurants and places to hang. In Austin, there were many similar such high schools. They exist, I knew, in San Francisco, in Chicago, in Minneapolis, in Denver, in Santa Fe.
What I wanted was for my future children to be active participants in their educative journeys. For them to sit next to people as different from them as could be possible, while being stimulated and encouraged by kick ass teachers who knew their stuff. For them to understand, through their interactions with a variety of peers, the realities of familial struggle and success, of poverty and plenty, of bigotry and justice, and of intolerance and acceptance. An education that isn’t safe. What I wanted was for my future children to know the grimy, unpleasant details of life in today’s world while receiving a quality education, while having fun, and while living in a warm and love-filled home.
But now, with my son exploring his way through one developmental milestone after another, with his words and scent embedded in my pores, I’m not so sure I want him to ever learn any of life’s grimy details.
Ok, not seriously. But I have gone from being a certain, opinioned, controversial, unconventional woman, to the mother of a real life, non-hypothetical human being who is more to me than the sum of all the world’s ins and outs. Now, I am simply certain about one thing: that I want the very best for my son.
What does the very best look like? I think it looks like a calm and peaceful school with a variety of educational approaches and methods, with an eclectic student body and teachers who care and have energy in spades. Is it safe? Is it suburban?
It is clear to me now: my opinion and what I believe is right is far less important these days and far less defined.
Will I do time in a purgatory for sell-outs?
Maybe the education answer is a communal school taught by our selves, our families, and our friends with children of their own. Or maybe it is a life of travel and tutors. Or maybe it’s a move from one mid-sized city to another in search of the perfect public education.
Or maybe, it doesn’t exist and that no matter what we decide, we will counter and bolster whatever our son receives from an institution of learning with our own lessons and ideas.
And maybe, he will be such a full and bright person that he will do the countering and filling in through his own searching.
That is, if we ever let him out of the house.
