Talk Back

I know. I never post anymore. But I do read blogs still. I'm just bad about comments. It makes me feel like I'm spying. I don't like that and I hope to remedy it as soon as school is over. 7 more school days!! Only 4 more school days and then K graduation! I can't wait to get everything done this week that's looming over my head. My birthday is on Thursday, but I don't even care. I just have too much to do. That day seems like an inconvenience at this point. If I lived in Indiana, I'd be finished with school by now and I could enjoy it. But I don't. My parents do, and they celebrated the official start to summer break by leaving today for their vacation home in Brazil. Instead, I can look forward to teaching Summer School. Man, it sucks being poor.

Yesterday, I took my kids to the park for a field trip to meet their pen pals. All year, they have been writing to the kids in the classroom I would have taught in if I'd stayed at my old school. Because we have a district of neighborhood schools, there are great discrepancies between the schools socioeconomically, racially, and in quality. My old school is in the south end of the city. As such, the kids are poor, of African descent (some as recently as a year ago) and the school has no PTA (aka no funding). My current school is in the north end, in a neighborhood where the average home price falls just below $1M and the children are 98% white and the PTA pays for a music teacher, a swim program, and holds a yearly auction that nets on avg. 60 grand. It isn't right. I know this. But the city tried bussing and north and south end parents alike fought to go back to neighborhood schools. And thus, it looks the way it does. I knew when I transferred to this affluent school that I wanted to teach about diversity and I also wanted my kids to interact with others and gain an appreciation for diversity. I believe this pen pal program has helped. I can't express to you how magical it was to see my kids with their pen pals, linked by a written history. They were fast friends and never questioned the differences in their lives. They embraced them.

How surprised I was, then, to be approached by a woman at the park who was visiting with her kids and essentially ruined the day for me. Let me preface this story by saying that in the last 10 years, there has been massive gentrification of the south end neighborhoods. Developers have seen this part of the city as a potential goldmine. With north end prices so staggeringly high, it leaves a large population of the homebuyer market unattainable to most. By buying cheaper land in the south end and building modern condos and renovating storefronts, they are hoping to attract younger couples into buying and "hip" and funky stores into renting space to further attract these people into living there. The problem of course is that then the prices go up for the poor minorities that live there, forcing them to move away due to inability to afford to shop in their neighborhood. Some are even told they must move out because their building has been sold to a condo developer. In the last 5 years or so, it has become "cool" to move into these gentrified neighborhoods and the public spaces are becoming more and more filled with white people.

It didn't surprise me, then, to see so many nannies at the park near my old school, and some stay at home moms with their kids in tow. When one of these white moms approached me, though, the surprise was strong. "Are you really from Green Lake?" I didn't detect the sarcasm at first. "Yes. My students are meeting their penpals from the school right down the road for the very first time." I said this with great pride. "Seriously? You're *really* from Green Lake? I can't believe Green Lake parents would let their kids play south of the ship canal." Her smirk is etched in my mind and makes me want to spithim her face when I think of it. I was speechless. "And they would let them be pen pals with [the school down the street]?! That's amazing!" her sarcasm and apparent disdain for the parents at my neighborhood school was biting. She laughed then. It was a snarky, mean laugh. I gave her a disappointed look and walked away. Whether she knew it or not, it was me she was insulting. This was my project, my idea. I expected to be celebrated and instead I was insulted. I walked away, roaming to watch my kids and their pen pals on various play structures. For at least an hour, this ate at me. I began thinking of all of the great comebacks I could think of. It's always that way, isn't it? I never have an artillery ready like I want to. Finally I decided I would say something to her. I had it prepared. First I would say, "You know, your comments have really been bothering me. I just can't figure out what your problem is." Then I would follw with the first punch, "Are you just jealous that you can't afford a house north of the ship canal, or do you honestly believe you are culturally superior because you live in a gentrified neighborhood?" I would then finish with the piece de resistance, "Maybe you're just upset that your kids won't be eligible to go to Green Lake when they're school-aged. My guess is you won't be sending your kids to [the school down the street] when the time comes. You'll choose to pay for private school instead. Actually, even if you deny it, I know I'm right about that." In five years of teaching, I've only ever seen 3 white kids a year at mist attend Kindergarten at that school. By first grade, when they realize the state of the school, they leave.

I went confidently back to the area she'd been in with her kids. I looked all over. In the distance I saw her loading her kids into her mini van while blocking traffic and talking with another mom in a mini van. I'd missed my opportunity. Better that I did, I know. I'm a public servant as a public school teacher and it could have come back to slap me in the face. That woman would not have been worth it.

But damn if I don't still think it would have felt good.