The Hidden Realities of ‘Underperforming Schools’ That Parents Often Overlook

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Last week, I visited a local elementary school in my neighborhood, and the stark reality of educational segregation became painfully clear. I was aware that this school received a low ranking of 1 out of 10 based on the district’s metrics. A staggering 95% of its students are children of color, and 89% come from low-income families. I also recognized that many of my neighbors, predominantly white, don’t consider this school as a viable option. Despite these facts, I aimed to balance my skepticism with the perspective of someone who attended a low-performing school and understands that statistics can only tell part of the story.

What I discovered was both enlightening and expected. The principal had departed earlier in the year to manage a charter school, leaving behind a series of temporary replacements. I observed the school’s dedicated music teacher at work and learned that there was no Parent-Teacher Association to rally support. The institution, clearly underfunded, was staffed by committed professionals who often took on multiple roles to advocate for their students, all while facing significant challenges.

What struck me most was the turnout for the tour: just four attendees. This was surprising given that it was early December, a peak time for school tours, when many schools typically see groups of 20-40 curious parents.

This school sits near the Oakland-Berkley border, an area renowned for its excellent public schools. It lies just blocks away from trendy eateries selling $30 artisan pizzas and vegan ice cream, surrounded by an increasing number of progressive white and Asian families. The influx of tech companies into San Francisco has significantly impacted local real estate, driving up home prices and reshaping the business landscape. Unfortunately, the public school system hasn’t benefited from this economic surge; in fact, the school board recently implemented $9 million in budget cuts. Consequently, Black and low-income families remaining in the city experience numerous disparities.

Among the white parents I know, these uncomfortable truths linger in the background but are seldom addressed. A common refrain I hear is that families are moving to neighboring jurisdictions to escape the local schools. One friend recently told me, “We had to relocate,” hinting at a close call with a dire situation. With her son set to start kindergarten soon, I was curious about the school that prompted her move. “I can’t recall its name,” she admitted, “but we couldn’t send him there.”

No one explicitly states, “I don’t want my child in a predominantly Black and Latino school.” There’s no need to. While the data on test scores, race, and socioeconomic status is complex, the district and platforms like GreatSchools.com simplify it into stark numbers. The school I visited is ranked at the bottom, while another just six blocks away boasts an 8 out of 10 rating and has received multiple accolades, with a student body that is 60% white.

Numerous systemic issues contribute to the failure of public schools across the nation to allocate tax dollars equitably. A significant part of the responsibility appears to rest with affluent and white families and the policies that enable them to isolate their educational choices.

In Alabama, for instance, white communities have been “seceding” from larger, integrated school districts, thanks to legislation allowing towns with over 5,000 residents to establish their own school systems. This has led to a stark division of schools by race and class within the state.

As a parent, I feel an intense urge to do what is best for my child. However, I often question whether that choice is truly in the best interest of my community. The widening equity gap can be overwhelming, yet it surprises me how many parents, once they find a reliable alternative to an underperforming school, seem to neglect the challenges faced by those without such options.

After visiting my local school, I realized I can no longer ignore these realities. My husband and I are thoughtfully considering whether to enroll our child there—not out of a desire to “rescue” anyone but because we recognize the importance of engaging with our community. As Nikole Hannah-Jones poignantly articulated in her influential 2016 essay, “One family, or even a few families, cannot transform a segregated school, but if none of us were willing to go into them, nothing would change.”

To my fellow parents, I’m not naive enough to believe that visiting low-performing schools will automatically lead to enrollment there. However, I urge you to go anyway. Spend time truly observing the achievement gap and connecting with the teachers and students. Ultimately, these children and their families should be integral to your understanding of the community you inhabit, just as the kids in my neighborhood school will always be a part of mine.

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Summary:

The visit to a local elementary school highlighted the stark realities of educational segregation, revealing systemic issues and the responsibility affluent families have in perpetuating inequities. While grappling with personal choices for their children’s education, parents must also acknowledge the broader implications of their decisions on the community.