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arents always want the best for their children.
 We dress them in the hottest fashions and spare no expense on the latest
sneakers. We lavish them with the newest toys advertised on their very own
television cable sets. And our ideas of providing life’s little accoutrements
are usually only those things which we can simply hold in our hands and wear on
our backs. But what I’m coming to realize now is that it’s so much deeper than
that. Providing those things are only the beginning and some can argue not
particularly necessary to successfully raise a child.
My children are brilliant! Yes I am a doting parent
proud of their accomplishments and excited about where they may go from here. My
son is six years old and in kindergarten and my daughter is a two year old in
every way possible. They both are intelligent, I like to think because of merely
me but their father has a little something to do with it. And they are both
very, very very active. I am responsible for everything about them and somewhat
challenged by my responsibilities. But I accept them wholeheartedly and will
execute them with enthusiasm and great pride. Their futures are a direct
reflection of either a job well done or one that was preformed with a slacker’s
attitude. And I strive for the former rather than the latter.
As an educated woman, I’ve reaped the benefits of an
additional few years of post secondary schooling. The increases in my income
have come and have a direct correlation with the additional letters after my
name. And so, my desire to push my children to achieve and to strive for
excellence, particularly in their education, isn’t a topic up for discussion.
My little kindergartener has shown an interest in
school and has excelled beyond my wildest dreams. His teacher has identified his
intelligence and his need to be challenged much more than his current school can
and so we’ve discussed that his next educational steps be in the “hallowed”
halls of one of the city’s most prestigious schools.
The idea of prestige comes with a pretty prestigious
price tag. And that’s only where my dilemma or rather my challenge begins. I’ve
mulled over the idea of completing the application for admissions, struggling
with many factors that come into play. All the usual concerns exist when it
comes to selecting the right school for my child, minus the issue of whether or
not the education he would receive would be one that is reputable and up to par.
That is neither an issue nor a concern. It is merely the best school around. But
other issues weigh heavy on my mind.
Will he fit in? Can he compete? Will he be
considered an outsider? The sensitive child that looks like his father, but
wears his heart on his sleeve like his mother, doesn’t have a problem making
friends, but he is nothing like the children that attend this school. The
majority of the children have parents who are some of the city’s wealthiest,
business owners, possessors of extensive stock portfolios and the like. We, on
the other hand are the working poor. We live in a small 1200-square foot ranch
whereas, they own mansions that our modest home could easily fit into at least
four times if not more. And his differences are compounded by the fact that he
is a Black child and merely 2%, if that, of the school’s population is the same.
And so any mother of an active little Black boy can feel my woe. We struggle
with the stereotypes of
their hyperactivity and the myths of their Attention
Deficit Disorder. Teachers not of color are baffled with finding ways to keep
them interested in learning and focused on the task at hand. And we as mothers
hope that both are accomplished without frustrating all involved, the parents,
the students and the administrators.
So, my nightmares are inundated with thoughts of
unprogressive progress reports and unsatisfactory grade cards. I toss and turn
over our financial shortcomings and fret about thoughts of classmate’s visits to
our meager, but comfortable home. The injustices are many, but as we’ve heard
time and time again, it is a challenge our boys, our children, have to overcome
by working that much harder. But do our children understand that those things
that separate them ultimately are opportunities to make them much stronger, much
more interesting and very successful?
On my way to work one morning I noticed a young
Black girl waiting at the public bus stop in a not so safe part of town. Her
outfit looked odd to me which drew my attention, she wore a skirt over her
jeans. Passing her at the stop I continued on my route driving through a very
affluent suburb. I like to look at the large old-money homes and dream about one
day owning one of my own. On the street I turned down to continue on, there is
an all-girls school where many in the neighborhood attend. They’re parking their
Benz’s, climbing out of their Lexus’ and rummaging through their BMW’s for their
school bags. And then what I see is like an answer to the prayers I’ve been
continually sending up to help me resolve my challenges with my son’s education.
The same girl at the bus stop is walking toward the school. The skirt I saw was
part of her uniform. The differences are apparent. She sees them, they see them.
But what will ultimately equate them is the level of education they receive. She
may not be able to hang with them now financially, but she will be able to
answer any question thrown at her while in school, she can apply to the same
colleges and have the same chances for admission as they do.
Her parents sacrificed now for her future. The
a-ha factor hit me hard. It’s not the little things that I can’t give, it’s the
big thing that I can, his education. I too will sacrifice today for his rewards
later. That young girl opened my eyes that day and I can only pray that in her
not so distant future she realizes that she has the ability to affect life,
knowingly and unknowingly.
With great pride I submitted the application and now
we wait for the answer to his future.
Nikki Jenkins is the
Executive Assistant to the Director in the Mayor's
Office of Education in Columbus, Ohio.
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