I’ve often thought that the sheer number of choices available to us in this country is at times overwhelming. Sometimes, standing in the tomato sauce section of the grocery store, I wonder if life in a communist country was, in many ways, simpler. One brand of tomato sauce, one type of shoe, one winter coat available.
Then I wake up and realize that I really do like pasta sauce with garlic and mushrooms better than regular sauce.
Choice is a good thing. The ability to influence our own lives is especially precious to children and adolescents. As an eighth-grade teacher, I know that the real joy for my students is not what happens in that final year of middle school, but where they will be next year. High school looms ahead, and they are just beginning to realize that they have some important choices to make.
One of my students this year, “Faith,” is brilliant. She’s one of the steady students in a classroom that is not always the calmest place. The oldest in a large family, her mother works full-time, as does her stepfather, so she spends her afternoons babysitting and is lucky to participate in anything after school.
The school worries about her family’s finances; they have moved three times in the last three years, but always seem to end up back at this school. Many of the children in the family have behavioral problems, but Faith seems to hold it together remarkably well.
At the same time, I know that she is not aware of the greater world. She has an idea about college, but none of her parents or role models has ever been there to tell her more. In fact, most of her adult figures go from one low-paying job to another, rarely lasting more than a year at each. She reads a great deal, which gives me hope, but what if she expects a life like her mom’s, full of babies at an early age and too few beds in a too small house?
As a teacher, this worries me more than Faith’s test scores, the school finances, or even my own class size. Faith has no idea what her options are. Until recently, she probably assumed that she would attend her local neighborhood high school, reaching toward whatever life the community seems to expect from her.
Denver Public Schools has a policy of choice for its students. This means that any student may apply to go to any school within the district. Students do not have to attend neighborhood schools, and students are especially encouraged to consider other schools if their assigned school is failing academically. This is not a flawless policy, as it drains failing schools of students who take an active interest in their education. But, more importantly, it also provides students with some sense of control over their own destinies.
DPS does not provide transportation for students who choose to attend a school that is not in their neighborhood, so high school is often the first time many students are able or allowed to travel across the city by themselves. For students like Faith, this is akin to magical doors opening upon unknown worlds. Does she want a college prep program? Does she want a vocational program? Does she want a school that will send her around the world on school-sponsored trips? Or does she want her neighborhood high school, where she knows the culture and the community?
Faith handed me a recommendation form the other day for a magnet program that sounds perfect for her, focusing on academics without sacrificing the sports and electives she adores. She has spent nine years going where she has been told to go, being who we all told her to be, and now the entire city is open to her. She has stepped forward to decide her own destiny, to make her own choice — a choice even better than pasta sauce with olives and mushrooms.
Amanda Lueck Gruell (luecka@yahoo.com) of Denver teaches eighth- grade English.
