Our 21K-population city has everything from 4th-generation farms to low-income housing to 1.5 million dollar mansions, and everything in between (new treeless subdivisions, 1970s split levels, 100-year-old restored farmhouses and Victorians). There are migrant farm workers struggling to make a better life for their families, architects, physicians, 2nd-and-3rd generation welfare recipients, meth addicts, farmers, teachers, ranchers, working class, middle class. While mostly Anglo and Hispanic, to call this place homogeneous would be inaccurate.

About three years into living here, we learned that our home is located on the so-called “wrong side of the tracks.” New development off the town square will likely change that in a year or so, and already houses in our neighborhood are selling well above what they did when we moved here.

A recent newspaper article stated that 30% of the children in our schools qualify for the school lunch program, which means they live at or below the poverty level. A sizeable number of these students attend our little neighborhood school, and I’m certain that the population here is much higher than 30%. Many people hear statistics like this and run for the hills. Me, I thank goodness that these kids are able to get a good public education, because for those who come from other countries, they wouldn’t have such opportunities. And I also think that money alone doesn’t guarantee good parenting; kids at affluent schools simply face a different set of problems. I feel that in general, whether you’re on welfare or a millionaire, your contribution to and input about your kids’ educational experience will matter more than where you send them to school. The concerns about the poverty connection to our school come, for me, not from prejudice or fear, but from knowledge that parents who are working three jobs simply aren’t able to be involved in their kids’ lives or educations as much as Kevin and I are. And that’s what’s operating in our area—lots of parents working three jobs just to get by, leaving the school system to do the lion’s share of the parenting. I’m not judging, or saying it’s fair or unfair, it simply is what it is.

I came from a middle-of-the-road middle class suburb of Chicago and received a stellar public education. I’d never heard bad things about public education until I met people from other areas of the country. My husband comes from an even better district, with his high school often ranking at or near the top in the nation. We both believe in public education because we both benefitted so much from it.

When I mention where Jackson attends school, which is right around the corner from our home, I hear a pause, then a dismayed “Oh.” I’m still trying to glean the reputation from long-time residents. Our neighbors, whose daughter was successful both academically and now professionally (she’s a first-year teacher in Chicago public schools this year), tell me that our little neighborhood school is known as “the ghetto of Woodstock” (a phrase not coined by them). Other people tell me they’ve heard great things about our school.

The district has carried a reputation for excellence in years past.

Now, however, our district is bursting at the seams in terms of population. As I type this entry, at LEAST 8 new subdivisions are breaking ground. But no referenda on building new schools are due until 2006, and the first one will likely fail. I hear things like “it’s going to take canceling all sports and kids sitting on the floor before people will vote for new schools” from those in the know (working for the local paper means you hear lots of insider stuff you might not otherwise hear).

Jackson is enrolled in a dual language program, where half the class speaks Engligh as a first language, the other half Spanish. Half the curriculum is taught in English, half in Spanish. Goals for the students include linguistic AND cultural fluency. We placed Jackson in this program partly out of his stated desire to learn Spanish and partly because we know he’s academically confident and a natural auditory learner. I suspect if he’s not technically “gifted,” he’s just shy of giftedness, on the high bright side.

We already know of at least two children in Jackson’s class who visit the principal’s office on a regular basis. One was seated next to Jackson until his teacher decided to separate them.

In preschool, we learned that Jackson, while confident and bright, is also very impressionable. If you seat him near the class clown, he’ll be the class clown too. If you seat him next to the diligent student, he’ll display diligence. And so on. This was a concern of his preschool teachers before he entered kindergarten, and they recommended placing him with a veteran teacher. We did, and he positively thrived in kindergarten. His teacher marveled on more than one occasion at how well he got along with everyone in class.

Even now, as we walk him to school, we hear “Hi Jackson!” at every turn.

When his teacher called to tell us of the change in seating arrangements, I told her that when I saw he was seated next to that child, who I knew from kindergarten, my heart sank. But I didn’t say anything, because I figured Jackson is going to have to learn to deal with people from different cultural, socioeconomic, and parenting backgrounds in his lifetime. And she agreed, and said she could tell we’re plugged in as parents, and that it really shows in Jackson (parents so seldom hear this about children, I have to say that felt good to hear!).

I’m not sure what we’re going to do. There are two other neighborhoods we want to move to here in town—one with sexy new homes, the other, sexy rehabbed older homes. And I’m not moving into an older home that hasn’t been completely upgraded. But unless something changes for us financially, we can’t afford to move until Aaron is in school all day. And none of this factors in whether or not we’ll move to Colorado when Aaron is ready for first grade.

I’m not willing to relocate to a faceless, traffic-glutted, cookie-cutter suburb solely to gain better schools. I hope I don’t pay for that stubbornness later.

There are private school options, but one is Montessori, but I’m not a fan of that method for older children and I’ve dealt with the administration before and wasn’t happy with how they handled things. The Catholic school carries an inferior reputation here at the grade school—but not the high school—level.

I’m being optimistic, and I think the greatest foundation for any educational experience—from private to public to homeschooled—comes from the parents. We’re plugged in, we’re working with his teacher, we talk with him about everything he questions and sees and learns about. We supplement his learning through reading and library visits and art classes and conversations and museum visits.

And Jackson? He loves school, bounds in and out of the place with a smile. He doesn’t understand differences in class and culture, and doesn’t care. Nor is he worried. I think as long as Kevin and I remain plugged in and just monitor his progress, behavior, and adaptability, he’ll be fine. If not, we’ll make the next move, whatever that might be.