Yesterday, I spent an hour explaining CPS kindergarten matriculation to a co-worker. He was surprised to learn many things about CPS, but none threw him more than the average length of the CPS school day: an abysmal 5 hours and 45 minutes. He was also shocked to learn that unlike the suburban district in which we both grew up, the start and end times of the CPS school day are inconsistent across the country’s 3rd largest school district.
Coincidentally, my friend Sonia sent me this Catalyst story yesterday about the average length of school days at CPS versus elsewhere. It was published nearly a year ago, in January 2010, but with the mayoral election and just about everything else in Chicago (politics) in flux, now is the time to rally the cry of a longer school day for Chicago students. On the whole, they probably need it more than their well-heeled suburban counterparts.
As the conversation builds, I cannot help but look to my children’s school as an example. It’s an example not only of how the extended day can improve educational outcomes, but also of the cost such initiatives bear. While other schools fundraise for a climbing wall, auditorium update or a red-tape-defying exercise room, we’re spending countless volunteer hours to bridge the gap between the CPS budget and requirements for our teachers’ (much-deserved, in my opinion) salaries and stipends. I’m told that that the fundraising push will have an end-date when the school reaches full capacity not long into the future. Thank goodness, because I am not sure that half the school's families can continue to bridge the budget gap without developing a sense of entitlement, frustration or both.
Admittedly, I have elementary-aged children who are in 2nd grade and kindergarten, respectively. Except for The Boy’s disastrous preschool year at a local parochial school, I have no parental experience with other schools, or educational or curriculum models. Only time will tell if it’s the right choice for The Boy, The Girl, The Tot (Who Isn’t) and their 309 school and classmates. To some extent, I have faith in the system, in the teachers who say that the longer school day allows them to get deeper into subject matter and give students the tools and time to follow their imaginations. Besides, it’s what suburban districts do, and what experts increasingly say is the right answer.
In my late teens, I lived with a family in France who had 3 young children who were in K-4th grade equivalents during my stay. They attended class every day from 8 until 4, and a ½ day on Wednesdays. I have no idea if the French are as well-prepared for a successful working life as the rest of the world -- (they also have a lot of roadblocks to the educational system, beginning with the prémier bac en français, which can keep students in high school until they are well into their 20s) -- but they certainly emphasize the importance of classroom learning (and a full hour to eat one’s lunch and run around).
Quality of instruction issues aside, the truncated school day is yet another example of a policy decision that ultimately punishes working Chicagoans. When I suggested to my co-worker that he check that the school hours worked for his family's needs, he sputtered, "You mean, they are not all the same??" How on Earth are you supposed to get to work on time when you have to drop your child off to school at 8:30, or pick him up at 1:45 p.m.? Although some Chicago firms allow workers to flex their schedules, many do not. In the Chicago Tribune's list of top-100 Chicago-area companies, almost half were located outside the bounds of the city. Positive cashflow may be good for the mayor, but does it create an ideal urban environment for the worker?
Friday, December 10, 2010
Tuesday, December 07, 2010
Choosing the right school for your child - glimpses of life on the other side
I sometimes feel as if I’m a character in a plebeian version of The Nanny Diaries. As an activist, blogophile, volunteer and mother to three children within the Chicago Public Schools, I am often asked what I think about the system as it stands now. Do I like my children’s school? Do I regret not sending my children to an SE program? Would I make the same decision? How did I know that the school is the right fit for my kids? How do I know that now?
The people doing the asking are much the same as I was a couple of years ago. They are concerned about the arduous and very important task of educating our children. They are unable or unwilling to consider private schools, and are committed to city living. They are also worried and scared about what is going to happen in the next 5-6 months, and how those decisions—entirely out of their control—will affect their children.
The truth is: I don’t know these things. I was not sure if the school I chose for The Boy was the right one for his style of learning. Before we had ever seen the inside of a classroom, met more than one teacher or the principal, or had any idea what the school would actually be like, The Dad and I were attracted to the technology aspect of the school. I’ve heard Karen Lewis say that, although we're living in the 21st century, our school system is still based on a 19th century model. While it may be the only issue upon which Ms. Lewis and I agree, that technology is integral to the success of our society, both now and in the future, seems indisputable.
How can a parent accurately judge what kind of learner their 5-year-old is? I often try to be deliberate and thoughtful in my parenting, but trying to figure out how to match the tab to the slots feels like rocket science: infinitely difficult. My criteria for choosing The Boy’s school went something like this:
1. He got in
2. It’s walking distance from our house
3. It’s got a technology focus
4. It’s a new school with new equipment
5. Its teachers are well-spoken and well-dressed
6. It’s backed by Boeing
Some studies suggest that it may not really matter anyway: family involvement is critical to student success.
And if The Boy’s kindergarten year was any indication, The Dad and I were very involved in his academic progress. I think this was the hardest adjustment for me. When I was in K in 1979, I went for 2.5 hours, sang songs, drew pictures, learned my letters and how to get along with the other kids in my class. I didn't have daily homework until I was in 7th grade. But my kindergartner had daily homework in the second week.
The current educational climate expects children to do more work at a faster pace and at more advanced levels than it did when I was in K. It seems like K is the new 1st grade, preschool is the new K. And the level of teachers' and administrators' expectations of children is so much higher than it was 20-30 years ago.
I was wary of the academic pressure on a 5-year-old who hadn’t yet decided that learning was a fun activity. Was I doing the right thing? Why weren’t my friends’ kids doing so much work? How much is too much? But: the teachers were so nice and so passionate about their work and the kids. The administration held fast to the belief that this was the best way. So we stuck it out, gritting our teeth at first until we became accustomed to the level of work required of our 5-year-old.
I’m a pragmatic decision-maker – this means I like to see results rather than every data point under the sun. And I can see the results in The Boy’s academic progress. Two-and-half years later, I’m still not sure what kind of learner The Boy is. But I do know this: he is thriving.
The people doing the asking are much the same as I was a couple of years ago. They are concerned about the arduous and very important task of educating our children. They are unable or unwilling to consider private schools, and are committed to city living. They are also worried and scared about what is going to happen in the next 5-6 months, and how those decisions—entirely out of their control—will affect their children.
The truth is: I don’t know these things. I was not sure if the school I chose for The Boy was the right one for his style of learning. Before we had ever seen the inside of a classroom, met more than one teacher or the principal, or had any idea what the school would actually be like, The Dad and I were attracted to the technology aspect of the school. I’ve heard Karen Lewis say that, although we're living in the 21st century, our school system is still based on a 19th century model. While it may be the only issue upon which Ms. Lewis and I agree, that technology is integral to the success of our society, both now and in the future, seems indisputable.
How can a parent accurately judge what kind of learner their 5-year-old is? I often try to be deliberate and thoughtful in my parenting, but trying to figure out how to match the tab to the slots feels like rocket science: infinitely difficult. My criteria for choosing The Boy’s school went something like this:
1. He got in
2. It’s walking distance from our house
3. It’s got a technology focus
4. It’s a new school with new equipment
5. Its teachers are well-spoken and well-dressed
6. It’s backed by Boeing
Some studies suggest that it may not really matter anyway: family involvement is critical to student success.
And if The Boy’s kindergarten year was any indication, The Dad and I were very involved in his academic progress. I think this was the hardest adjustment for me. When I was in K in 1979, I went for 2.5 hours, sang songs, drew pictures, learned my letters and how to get along with the other kids in my class. I didn't have daily homework until I was in 7th grade. But my kindergartner had daily homework in the second week.
The current educational climate expects children to do more work at a faster pace and at more advanced levels than it did when I was in K. It seems like K is the new 1st grade, preschool is the new K. And the level of teachers' and administrators' expectations of children is so much higher than it was 20-30 years ago.
I was wary of the academic pressure on a 5-year-old who hadn’t yet decided that learning was a fun activity. Was I doing the right thing? Why weren’t my friends’ kids doing so much work? How much is too much? But: the teachers were so nice and so passionate about their work and the kids. The administration held fast to the belief that this was the best way. So we stuck it out, gritting our teeth at first until we became accustomed to the level of work required of our 5-year-old.
I’m a pragmatic decision-maker – this means I like to see results rather than every data point under the sun. And I can see the results in The Boy’s academic progress. Two-and-half years later, I’m still not sure what kind of learner The Boy is. But I do know this: he is thriving.
Monday, December 06, 2010
The Reform Movement Builds
While Ron Huberman may not have been the person to overhaul the Chicago Public Schools, the winds of change may be picking up speed with today's announcement. Michelle Rhee may have been no match for the D.C. public school teachers, but she has re-surfaced in California's capital city with a new reform project.
I'm not entirely sure that the answer to the problems in the U.S. educational system lie with Waiting for Superman and the changes Rhee enacted in D.C., I do know that something has got to change. Because the system, as it stands now, just doesn't work. I feel like this is well-known at this point. But the idealist in me is heartened to see it go national.
I feel fortunate that my children's school is a school that works. My children have great teachers. I am continually in awe of their drive, passion and dedication. I'm a passionate writer, but I don't think I have half the skills required of good teachers.
I'm not entirely sure that the answer to the problems in the U.S. educational system lie with Waiting for Superman and the changes Rhee enacted in D.C., I do know that something has got to change. Because the system, as it stands now, just doesn't work. I feel like this is well-known at this point. But the idealist in me is heartened to see it go national.
I feel fortunate that my children's school is a school that works. My children have great teachers. I am continually in awe of their drive, passion and dedication. I'm a passionate writer, but I don't think I have half the skills required of good teachers.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Lincoln Park, the Suburbs and High School
On Sunday, I went to dinner for the first time at John's Place in Lincoln Park. I knew only that it was kid-friendly and had to have good food because Melissa has spoken about it. Our party of 9 adults and 3 kids was there for a little over 2 hours. The magician and balloon-blower who came to provide entertainment to The Boy, The Girl and The Tot (Who Isn't) was able to get in some real humor with our audience. He had just blown up balloons for the two kids, two dads and a pregnant mom at an adjacent table. In our time at the restaurant, that table turned over twice while the rest or the restaurant stayed fairly empty. Both times, the table was populated by babies and toddlers and their REI-clad parents.
I remarked upon this with a bit of surprise to my closest urban tablemate, The Dad's cousin's fiancée. She was not surprised, telling me that the neighborhood comprises her peers (mid-30s) with their young children. In fact, she said, one of her friends with two kids used to live in the area until she'd outgrown her condo and moved to the suburbs.
Ah, the suburbs. I've been a Chicago resident since 2002. This Thanksgiving is the 9th I've spent in this house. I joke to my husband that he'll have to drag me kicking and screaming to the suburbs. And yet.
There it is. Always. Looming over me. Although it did surprise me to learn that the average demographic of Lincoln Park is now essentially a rolled back version of me, what follows doesn't particularly surprise me: Grown-up Trixies and Chads get married, buy condos, have babies and flee to the suburbs. Where the grass is always green and the schools are always good. Or so I'm led to believe.
Sociologically, I find this phenomenon interesting. I was raised in the suburbs by two former urbanites (NYC). The Dad was raised in the suburbs by one suburbanite and one rural Hoosier. My father (Grandpa Texas) spent my son's first three years trying to convince me that I'd want to move the suburbs. That I should want to move to the suburbs. But, to quote my friend Sonia, I just don't want to.
And I do wonder: what's wrong with me that I don't? After all, it is what people with means do. Among the women of my moms' group, who are all like me: educated women with the means for mobility, whether upward or outward, there are more of us who have moved outside the city than who have retained residency.
At the moment, I think my reluctance to leave the city has much to do with both luck and a deeply ingrained stubborn streak. In 2008, The Boy won the CPS lottery, gaining admission into what is turning out to be a great public elementary school. By luck again, CPS changed the policy for sibling admissions and The Girl also attends the same great school. Luckily for me, The Dad talked me into a single-family house in what is a really great neighborhood, so I have a garage, patch of grass and three floors upon which we can scatter our stuff.
The big unknown, of course, is high school. We're still five to six years away from the high school decision, but if time flows at the same rate as it has since 2003, it will be here before we know it. My biggest concern is academics: Will The Boy get into one of the six current selective-enrollment schools in the city? And whether he does or doesn't, how can we hold our schools accountable to meet a high academic standard? What is the formula in the suburbs that makes suburban schools regarded as universally better than Chicago public schools? And can we replicate it? Is there a way to solve the fundamental barriers to success for some CPS students?
The Dad's biggest concern in the high school picture is the social influence: how to keep The Boy out of trouble? Will we hurt our child's overall chances for success if we keep him in an urban school environment? Can you make a "good" kid bad? And how far are we willing to take the social experiment of trying to even the playing field when it comes to our own children's future success or failure, happiness or misery?
The statistics about high school students' success released by the Chicago Public Schools are grim. These statistics report that only 30 of 100 H.S. freshmen will go on to enter college; only 6 will go to highly selective schools. They consider the University of Illinois one such highly selective school. Yikes! Twenty percent of my suburban high school went to the University of Illinois -- and most of us considered it "slumming it" because we weren't headed for an Ivy. These stats were drawn in part from a 2006 University of Chicago study that suggests that, once again, luck will be on our side in the high school and college admissions process. This reassures me on an academic level, but does nothing to relieve The Dad's concerns about the potential for bad influence.
And it doesn't discount that staying in the city surely promises a lot of work in our future. I'm not sure I have it in me to dig into turning around the local high school.
What about you? Are you planning to stay in the city for the long haul? Do you plan to move to the suburbs? Have you already moved to the suburbs? Do you think there's a way for CPS to turn it around? Are you involved in the CPS process at any level?
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Transparency in Politics
On Monday, politicos--would-be and otherwise--kicked off the mayoral race by filing their petitions with the city. The Sun-Times reported that the mayoral race could "energize voters."
I have to say: I am still in the period of dread. It's not that I fear change. God knows, I was looking forward to defeating Daley in February. But I surmise that the city's budget is a horrible mess. And I don't see how any politician is going to get us out of it. (And if s/he did, what would Ben Joravsky write about?) That these politicians think they can shows either incredible courage or incredible naivete. Perhaps both.
I'm likely a campaign manager's nightmare because I don't watch live TV and I don't pay attention to the ads. But I stopped the TiVo to watch Emmanuel's ad tonight during Glee. My reaction: I'm tired of the platitudes already. I love Chicago (just ask The Dad, who'll have to drag me outta here kicking and screaming), but the past few years have opened my eyes to the realities of city politics and dealings. I think Chicago needs to focus its efforts on becoming a world-class city. Forget about losing our grip on a precarious hold. I don't think we can pat ourselves on the back yet, guys.
Throughout the tumultuous spring and early summer of budget crises, education cuts, union troubles, school-related challenges and a surprise visit from Ron Huberman, I believed that the great Chicago machine (which also controls CPS) was obfuscating budget and process from its citizens. At the time, I wanted more transparency and communication about what was going on. I still want that. But now I think one reason that few in official capacity are willing to Tweet as often as Kanye West or Kim Kardashian is that they realize that if they are forthcoming with information, everyone will know that they have no idea what the hell they are doing. That Emmanuel and Moseley-Braun want to take a stab at it reveals their courage.
Despite my current discomfort with lies ahead for Chicago, I'm an unfailing optimist. I am quite sure that my dread will turn to excitement in a couple of weeks after a few rounds of mudslinging between Moseley-Braun and Emmanuel (with a little comedic relief from the Rev. Meeks thrown in). A parent and activist just announced his aldermanic bid for the 39th ward; things are looking up already....
I have to say: I am still in the period of dread. It's not that I fear change. God knows, I was looking forward to defeating Daley in February. But I surmise that the city's budget is a horrible mess. And I don't see how any politician is going to get us out of it. (And if s/he did, what would Ben Joravsky write about?) That these politicians think they can shows either incredible courage or incredible naivete. Perhaps both.
I'm likely a campaign manager's nightmare because I don't watch live TV and I don't pay attention to the ads. But I stopped the TiVo to watch Emmanuel's ad tonight during Glee. My reaction: I'm tired of the platitudes already. I love Chicago (just ask The Dad, who'll have to drag me outta here kicking and screaming), but the past few years have opened my eyes to the realities of city politics and dealings. I think Chicago needs to focus its efforts on becoming a world-class city. Forget about losing our grip on a precarious hold. I don't think we can pat ourselves on the back yet, guys.
Throughout the tumultuous spring and early summer of budget crises, education cuts, union troubles, school-related challenges and a surprise visit from Ron Huberman, I believed that the great Chicago machine (which also controls CPS) was obfuscating budget and process from its citizens. At the time, I wanted more transparency and communication about what was going on. I still want that. But now I think one reason that few in official capacity are willing to Tweet as often as Kanye West or Kim Kardashian is that they realize that if they are forthcoming with information, everyone will know that they have no idea what the hell they are doing. That Emmanuel and Moseley-Braun want to take a stab at it reveals their courage.
Despite my current discomfort with lies ahead for Chicago, I'm an unfailing optimist. I am quite sure that my dread will turn to excitement in a couple of weeks after a few rounds of mudslinging between Moseley-Braun and Emmanuel (with a little comedic relief from the Rev. Meeks thrown in). A parent and activist just announced his aldermanic bid for the 39th ward; things are looking up already....
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