Giving your kids the best you can, Part 2

Lester and I both want the best for our boys. We see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, but on that shared value, we see whole-body to whole-body.

Unfortunately, on our salaries and in this old, underfunded, segregated city, "the best" -- when it comes to education -- quite often means "private." And "private" quite often means "majority white."

Lester and I are both people who pretty much grew up in majority-black cities, schools and environments.

But both of us were able to break out of the clannishness that kind of upbringing fosters to become great friends with people of all races and backgrounds. I absolutely adore my colorful plethora of friends. I love it that it doesn't matter to us what color someone is, or what religion or from what tax-bracket: We all love one another and accept one another and celebrate our differences and our commonalities. Many times, when we're hanging out with a big group of our friends, I think: "This is what the world should be like."

But, unfortunately, it is not. In fact, the world is far from what our circle of friends is like.

And so, we worry when we think that, in order to give Cary, Dean and Clair the very best education and experiences, we might also be ordering up for them a lifetime of isolation, discrimination, forced assimilation or feelings of inadequacy.

I know this can happen, because it happened to me. I wrote this article years ago on the anniversary of the historic Brown vs. Board of Education court case, which ordered the desegregation of schools. In it, I describe how being a part of a desegregation order myself changed my life for the better but still left behind in me feelings of inadequacy.

I wouldn't change the experience, not for a minute; I believe it helped shape who I am today. But I worry so much about my kids having to go through life trying hard to fit in, and feeling "less-than" if they don't. That's just one small advantage of growing up in a majority black environment. At least we know they wouldn't feel so "other." But, sadly, that's not enough of a reason to choose the childhood Lester and I experienced over the much more multi-cultural one we are trying to create now.

When President Barack Obama was elected, Lester and I hugged each other hard and cried. This historic election meant so much for us, for our families, for the children we would eventually have together. But we knew it wouldn't mean a true "post-racial" society, as some have suggested. We doubt such a thing will ever happen -- at least not in our lifetime. But for our children's sake, my goodness how we wish it were so! How we pray every day for our children to be recognized the world over as just as valuable, just as worthy, just as smart, just as beautiful.

That's why it hurts so much when a teenaged boy -- the same color as my boys -- gets shot and killed in a gated community for the crime of "looking suspicious."

That's why it stings when people say they won't go see a movie because a beautiful black girl -- with brown skin like my daughter -- was cast as a beloved character.

It shows that no matter who the President is, no matter where we live, no matter what schools we send them to, no matter how well we teach them to behave, speak well, work hard, love people, be respectful, stay out of trouble and honor God, their families and themselves -- no matter WHAT we do to prepare and protect them -- someone out there will see our wonderful, curious, delightful, sweet, hilarious babies and think "criminal," "scary," "untrustworthy," "value-less," "stupid," "ghetto," "ugly," "target."

So what do we do?

Our parents' way of handling things was to keep us -- for the most part -- sequestered in majority black communities. Even today, our families interact with folks from other races very, very little. It's a self-segregation for protection's sake. Though I understand it's origins, it's sad, I think. And limiting.

And it also is NOT who Lester and I are. It's not who we want our kids to be. I would abhor a life lived in such a monotone.

So we will do the best we can to give them the best we can -- in terms of education and socialization, community and character, values and principles, faith, finances, family and friends. And we will do the delicate dance many black parents before us have done, letting them know the unfortunate truth that there are people out there who will see them only for the color of their skin -- and make negative assumptions about them because of it. But also that many, many more people will accept, celebrate and love them neither because of nor despite it. Like the friends of ours they will come to know, those people will love them just for who they are.

We hope they will be aware of prejudice, discrimination, racism, bigotry, fear and ignorance, but not be stymied, crippled or in any way hindered by it. We pray they will shine and succeed in spite of it. We hope they will love the skin they're in, their hair, their noses, their far-from-privileged ancestry. We pray they will create for themselves a life full of beautiful people of all races, backgrounds, religions and cultures.

If Cary, Dean and Clair do that -- and God-willing, they will -- we will know that we have done for them the very, very best that we could do.

Giving your kids the best you can, Part 1

As part of his job, my husband is taking part in a springtime baseball tournament here between the city's public and private high schools. It's a really great idea, because the city public school kids get to play on the beautiful fields of the private schools, and against the well-heeled players who have more advantages (generally) than they. They also get exposure (scouts, newspaper write-ups, etc.) And both the public and private school kids get to experience new things and meet -- and have fun with -- new people. Win-win for everybody!

We've taken the boys to two rounds of the tournament, one on Saturday and one yesterday. Cary and Dean barely notice the games, and just love all the open space and the freedom to run and fall and people-watch. I love their little wind-chapped cheeks and grass-stained knees when we leave the baseball field. They are probably their happiest when we are outdoors. It does my heart good!

Seeing them out there, on high school fields, with all the high school boys, also makes me think about their eventual high school years, and the tough decisions we'll likely have to make (if we're still in Baltimore) about public vs. private school.

Lester and I both are products of public schools (though, coincidentally, we both also spent some time in Catholic schools as young children) and turned out just fine. We both believe in public education, and know enough to understand that the schools are only as good as 1) the taxbase supporting them and 2) the parents and community members involved and invested in them.

But the three school systems we're most linked to (the suburban Maryland system I graduated from; the D.C. system he graduated from, and Baltimore's, where we now live) are HORRIBLE. There's no other way to put it. They are deplorable. I just cannot see how we would ever send our kids to horrible schools, no matter what our political beliefs are about public education.

And the thing is, it's not just academics that we worry about (although that's first and foremost). Lester and I are both keenly aware of the power of the peer group. And we know that at a certain point, children demote the value of their parents' opinions in favor of their friends'.

That's why I always say, "It may be true that you can't pick your children's friends. But you can damn well try."

That means putting them in environments where they will be around people whose values are most like ours, whose outlook on life and leisure and hard work and integrity are most like ours. It doesn't mean we don't value diversity. We, of all people, know the importance of that. But diversity of race, income, religion, cultural background, etc. is something way different than diversity of core values. Unfortunately, most of the public schools in this area don't provide much diversity in either area, if I'm honest. So our choices as parents are really tough, and no matter what we decide to do, it won't be ideal. Something will be sacrificed.

Nevertheless, in addition to doing all we can to help give the boys a foundation at home of responsibility and love of learning, etc., Lester and I plan to do whatever we can to give them every advantage we can when it comes to where we live and where they go to school. We'd love nothing more than for that to mean public school (FREE school for three kids?!! Sign me up!) but if we can't find what we're looking for, we will live paycheck to paycheck and work really long hours and sacrifice vacations and dinners out and new clothes etc., to be able to send them to a private school that fits us and our ideals. It sucks. I know. But what choice do we have?

I know people will judge us. Some in our own families will, in fact. But we will do what we have to do for these children to give them every possible advantage. And then we will pray for God's help and protection. People can judge all they want.

Sadly, we know we will not be able to protect them from everything. The Trayvon Martin case -- which has blown up so big as to have even gotten a reaction from our nation's President -- reminds me of what my sons will face in this world, no matter what Lester and I do to try to prepare and shield them. And the way many people reacted to the fact that an adorable little black girl was cast as a beloved character in The Hunger Games movie shows me what my sweet little Clair will be up against as well.

Sigh. Sigh. Double sigh.

I'll need time to sort out my many feelings about that last paragraph in a somewhat coherent way.

So stay tuned for Part 2 of this post.