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School choice big decision for parents who go from private to public
Published: March 31, 2011
"I'm not old enough to have kids in middle school."
I say this a lot lately, despite all evidence to the contrary. My arms jiggle more than they used to and my kids roll their eyes more than they used to, which indicates to me that we're all getting older. There's no way around it. Jacob and Zachary, my 11-year-old twins, will soon leave the protective cocoon of their elementary experience to embark on a journey through acne, braces, and back hair.
And those aren't even the worst of the middle school possibilities.
Jacob and Zachary have thrived at Hillel School of Tampa, a small, private Jewish campus. Their teachers and administrators consistently focus on academic excellence and shared values. I always felt reassured that I was sending my kids to a place where they're safe and loved. They've also learned an endless supply of Jewish jokes.
But we had to take into account certain factors, like a move this summer from Lutz to South Tampa. It would be nice for our boys to go to school closer to home with kids from their own neighborhood. Also, Hillel doesn't have a high school. Wouldn't it be better to make the transition to public school now, rather than ninth grade?
My husband, Marc, and I had much to consider. We got lots of advice from other families, but every single kid is different and one solution doesn't work for everyone.
Wait, that's not true. A loving family, quiet time, and an endless supply of Benadryl works for everyone, but other decisions need to be adjusted based on individual needs.
For example, some parents have children who easily adapt to any environment, no matter how crowded or ill-funded. Their kids find quiet and studious friends, join a chess club, and focus themselves quite nicely.
To those fortunate mommies and daddies I say, "Good for you. Wanna trade?"
Jacob and Zachary are polite, sensitive, sweet boys. I want them to stay that way for as long as possible. I also don't want to provide hundreds of ways for them to explore their rebellious side – personality traits that make them bold, opinionated, and curious. After several years in elementary classrooms with two teachers and 15 kids, most of whom are brilliant and well-behaved, it would be cruel and maybe even dangerous to toss them into a crowd of 1,200 students, some of whom use weapons and curse words to express themselves, all while crammed inside buildings built for half that number.
As I began this agonizing and anxiety-ridden project, researching Hillsborough County public schools, I realized that choosing a middle school would be the most important decision of our lives. My husband couldn't help but smile.
"More important than choosing pediatricians?" he asked. "You told me we had to interview dozens of physicians because they'd be making life-or-death decisions for our babies. What about when we looked for preschools? You said we had to pay a fortune for the Jewish Community Center because early education set the stage for the next 20 years. Is this even more important than the countless family meetings when we had to choose between Jay Leno and Conan O'Brien?"
Despite Marc's attempt at humor, he agreed that middle school was our new priority. When poring over data and statistics, we wanted to see:
Black, Hispanic, Christian and Muslim students, as well as kids like ours, who speak Hebrew and imitate Mel Brooks.
Competitive physical education that will prepare Jacob and Zachary, talented athletes in their own right, for the challenges of playing high school sports.
Between 600-800 students – not so small that our boys will be sheltered, but not so big they'll fall through the cracks, either.
Uniforms. That's right, this former punk groupie who shaved her head in junior high wants her kids to concentrate on learning rather than who has the lowest riding jeans.
Access to technology.
Teachers who demand respect and a little bit of fear.
Early hours, but not so early that our children are on the bus every morning before 5.
Decent cafeteria food.
Is all that too much to ask?
Tampa has many terrific middle schools. Private, public, magnet and charter, each has its own strengths and weaknesses. Parents, who know their kids better than anyone, must find the school where their children can thrive.
I thought a lot about Jake and Zach, as well as my own experiences as both a student in the 1980s and as a teacher for seven years, when making appointments to tour these programs.
Here's what I didn't want to see:
Unsupervised locker rooms.
A thug element, an entitled and spoiled element, or a young-girls-who-look-far-too-old element.
Students trying to avoid getting raped or shot.
Boys with more bling and longer rap sheets than Lil Wayne.
Teachers dancing on tables.
Girls eager to audition for next year's "Teen Mom."
Administrators who look as frazzled as I feel.
Male students playing with their facial hair.
Teachers playing with their students' facial hair.
A smoking section for eighth-graders.
Girls who look like Lady Gaga.
Clubs that recruit future deviants, felons, or Tea Party activists.
Boys who look like Lady Gaga.
Luckily for me, the tours went well. I met with educators and administrators, as well as current students and their families. In every setting, the educators' professionalism and love for teaching, as well as impressive students who actually liked their school, made my decision even harder.
After an exhaustive search, Marc and I narrowed the list down to three excellent choices: our own beloved Hillel School of Tampa, Wilson Middle, a traditional and revered institute of learning, and Williams Middle Magnet, an outstanding IB program.
At Wilson, I peered inside classrooms that weren't crowded and observed teachers who had the time and inclination to help everyone. At Williams, I walked hallways filled with a blend of ethnicities. At Hillel, Marc and I knew active and concerned parents. Now, how to choose?
Friends and family members had their own opinions.
"Put your kids in private school their whole lives and you'll wind up with spoiled brats who only relate to other spoiled brats. Don't you want them to be able to throw a football?"
"Stay away from that school. It's like naptime for three years."
"Public schools are dangerous. There are fights every week and most of the kids are on drugs."
We took Jacob and Zachary to visit both Wilson and Williams in order to get their opinion. The ultimate decision was, most certainly, ours, but Marc and I wanted to hear what our kids thought, too. At first, Jake and Zach preferred Hillel, where they knew everyone and felt comfortable.
"We like all the teachers, Mom," they reminded me. "Even the tough ones."
Then they made some profound discoveries. At Williams, they'd get PE every day. Wilson's cafeteria serves pizza for lunch. Suddenly, public schools looked pretty good.
Marc and I, meanwhile, continued to agonize; it was time to rank our choices. Here's what we finally settled on:
1. Williams Middle Magnet - Ultimately, the rigorous academic environment, uniforms, early hours, diverse and brilliant student population, as well as access to technology, made it our first choice.
2. Wilson Middle School – It boasts individualized instruction, competitive sports, advanced students, involved parents, technology in every classroom and a dedicated group of educators.
3. Hillel School of Tampa – If our foray into public school is a mistake, I won't pretend I'm not comforted by this oasis of excellence awaiting us back in North Tampa. We can always go home.
In December, I completed two applications for Williams, and sent paperwork to the school district to be entered into a lottery. Hillsborough County's Magnet Office has a computer that chooses applicants at random and spits out letters to be mailed to everyone by the end of February. I also began looking for homes in the neighborhood near Wilson Middle School.
Marc and I decided we'd rent a house for a year in South Tampa before buying, just to see how this experiment turned out. All the while, we avoided the traditional Jewish guilt at Hillel -- sad looks from administrators who didn't want to see us go, but knew we had to do what's best for our boys.
February is supposed to be the shortest month, but this year it seemed to last forever. Finally, on the 28th, we received our notification in the mail.
Jacob and Zachary had been accepted. At Walker Middle Magnet.
I stared at the notice in confusion.
"We didn't apply to Walker," I said once. And again.
Later that night, Marc and I laughed at the absurdity of it all. We'd spent months researching and planning, narrowing our choices based on carefully considered criteria. In the end, a computer crunched its own numbers – and came up with its own choice. Walker has a new IB program opening, and it's much closer to our current home than Williams or Wilson.
"What have we gotten ourselves into?" I asked.
And so our experiment begins.
