What impact has the structure of contemporary education in the United States had on my life? This was my food for thought as I drove back to Hamline from my weekend road trip to Mankato. As I dodged deer and hunters and kept my eyes on the road, I thought about this assignment. It gave me a chance to take a broader view of my life as a student as shaped by the system.
A large part of the reason for my visit to Mankato was to visit the Minnesota State University campus and find out more about a graduate program in school counseling that I am considering for my master’s degree. That I am contemplating graduate school instead of trying to enter the work force with a full-time job indicates that I am still “under the influence” of the structure of education in contemporary United States. My interest in graduate school is indicative of my cultural belief, and my parents’ cultural belief, that education is the principle means of financial success in our country (Newman, p. 361). Interestingly, it now appears that more females than males my age share this cultural belief, as there is a larger percentage of women than men currently enrolled in U.S. undergraduate degree programs, as well as most masters degree programs. Although the school counseling program at MSU enjoys a great reputation, I must admit that one of its appeals to me is that admission does not require the GRE exam if your college grades are high enough. Since standardized tests are NOT my thing, this is good news for me. Yet, my desire not to subject my future to another one of those hated events definitely narrows my school choices. The admissions policies of the graduate school programs, factors outside of my control, are, as Newman says, “a reality that determines life chances and choices” (Newman, p. 262).
My graduate school plans and choices are just the latest in a long series of ways that the structure of contemporary education in the United States has impacted my student life. I guess the first time the structure the education system affected my life was in my parents’ choice of my kindergarten. Although we can see the neighborhood elementary school from our back porch, my parents did not send me to that school. My parents say that this was not because of any concern they had with the quality of that school. They actually liked that school and wanted me to attend it. But in the year I began kindergarten, the Minneapolis school system had an extensive busing program intended to bring about racial balance in the schools throughout the city. Although parents could request that their children attend neighborhood schools, there were no guarantees that these requests would be honored. In our neighborhood, getting to go to the school down the street was the luck of the draw. If you didn’t get drawn for that school, you got to ride a bus to a school in another part of the city. My parents didn’t like that idea, so they enrolled me in a private school, which, ironically, involved a pretty long bus ride anyway. Ironically, my parents learned several years later that I probably would have had no problem attending my neighborhood school for kindergarten if my parents had answered the question of my ethnicity differently. You see, there was no box on the form that adequately described my ethnicity as a Roma. The choices were White, African American, Hispanic, Native American, and Asian. None of those boxes fit my status, so they just checked “White.” Thus, my school experience began to be shaped by the structure of the education system, specifically, the racial integration policies of the school system. Or perhaps it was just the lack of an “Other” box on the form. At any rate, my parents’ choice of my first school was definitely impacted by the decisions of the Minneapolis School Board related to achieving its school integration goals, as well as by the decisions of those who administered the school selection/assignment process and designed the forms.
I spent two years at my first private school, The International School of Minnesota. Although that school provided daily Spanish or French starting in Kindergarten and daily physical education, art and music along with the usual academics, my parents decided it wasn’t a good fit for me after first grade. That was because it also featured daily testing, beginning in the first grade, and it soon became clear that I didn’t thrive under that system. My parents moved me to another private school for second grade. My parents thought that school’s academics were a better fit for me, and it was also much closer to home. Unfortunately, that school was on shaky financial ground, and it failed as I was finishing fourth grade. While private schools give parents more choices for their children’s education, they don’t always work out for a variety of reasons. They are part of the educational system too. The decisions of the private schools I attended on matters ranging from curriculum to finances thus impacted my experience as an early elementary school student and became part of my educational past that I carry with me today.
Ironically, for fifth grade, I was finally able to attend the neighborhood public school my parents wanted for me in the first place. Unfortunately, it had by then become a K-5 school, so I would only get one year there. Although I knew many neighborhood kids who attended that school, I was something of an outsider because I was new to the school as a fifth grader. Since I was new, I didn’t get put into any of the school’s enrichment programs either, a decision that, it turned out, would have an impact on my educational life that continued into my middle school years and beyond. In middle school, students had electives, one of which was Spanish or French, and my parents were excited that I would finally have the chance to return to the Spanish I had begun to learn at International School. Unfortunately, however, the middle school administration had a different idea. The middle school’s language choices were Spanish and French, and the kids who had been in enrichment programs in elementary school got first choice. By the time they got to me, French was all that was left, so French it was. In Minneapolis schools, the Spanish program was far more popular, much bigger and much better organized than the French program, which seemed something of an afterthought. While there were several Spanish teachers and classes, there was just one French class, and most of the students, like me, were there because Spanish was full. To make matters worse, my middle school French teacher had two babies in three years, so a good portion of the first three years of French was spent with substitute teachers who knew even less French than I did. When we got to high school, the kids from my middle school French class were well behind those from the other schools, and most of us never caught up. When the best French teacher (1/2 of the program) who moved to a different school when I was a sophomore was not replaced, I gave up on French. I have always wished that I had been able to study Spanish as a young student, but the decisions of school administrators to place me in French instead of Spanish and not to offer additional Spanish classes in middle school despite the demand for them, continue to affect me to this day. Someday I’ll try Rosetta Stone or Berlitz, to see if I can learn at least a little Spanish as an adult.
My middle school also had a pre-International Baccalaureate program, which any student could take. I did, and it helped me get into a high school with an International Baccalaureate program later on. When it was time to choose a high school program, Minneapolis gave students and their parents lots of choices. I quickly narrowed it down to two programs in two schools: An International Baccalaureate program at a school not far from my house, and a liberal arts program at a school across town. It was necessary to apply to these programs, and you had to get in. Admission to both of these programs was quite competitive, and I was worried about getting in (due to those darned standardized test scores again). To my surprise, I was accepted into both programs. Although high school acceptances in Minneapolis were supposed to be strictly one to a customer, I somehow got two. This, it turns out, was unheard of, but it had to do with tennis, not academics. As a tournament-level tennis player, I was sought by both schools for their tennis teams. I ended up choosing the IB program closer to home. My high school choice was in this way impacted by the actions of coaches and administrators who found ways around the system to accomplish their goals.
Once I got to high school, I discovered that being in the IB program afforded me a certain beneficial status. As one of my freshman teachers said, "IB students don't need hall passes, but students in the school's other program (A&H) did." The IB students were treated a lot better by the teachers and school administrators than were the students in the A&H program because the IB students were thought to be "students who wanted to learn" and the A&H students were thought to want to mess around all the time. In my high school, IB was where you wanted to be. It was like being in a higher social class. As an IB student, you were considered smarter and more focused, and you were challenged more. The IB program was both rigorous and stressful, with advanced classes, loads of homework, many papers, and , of course, those IB exams. Although the IB diploma was out of my reach, the IB certificate and college credit for IB work I earned in that program undoubtedly helped me get numerous college acceptances and prepared me well for college work. I am certain that it took a lot of creativity, initiative and determination for my high school to establish that program, the first of its kind in Minneapolis schools. My education was clearly impacted by the people who worked so hard to convince the bureaucracy to establish this program at my high school. The IB program is expensive for the high school to run, and in these days of budget cuts, is often a target for elimination, but I am thankful it was there for me and survives to this day.
My college applications and choices were also impacted by the structure of the educational system, especially two aspects of it: standardized tests and college athletics. For standardized tests, as I have mentioned (whined about?) many times, they are not my forte. I have test anxiety and just don’t do well on those things. My parents sent me to more than a couple of ACT review/test strategy classes, and I did everything I could to try to achieve an impressive score. I took, re-took, re-took and re-took the ACT, but never achieved a particularly impressive result. I met the requirements for admission at my chosen schools, but not their requirements for getting much in the way of financial aid. My admission chances were again helped by my tennis skills which attracted the attention of several Division III coaches, and thankfully, my parents were able to come up with the tuition, so here I am. While one might argue that sports ability shouldn’t have any impact on college admission decisions, it does, and I am glad it gave me the chances I have had to show what I can do in college. There are those “chances and choices” Newman talks about again. Although my ACT results suggested mediocrity, my college grades are quite good, making me an exception, I guess, to the predictability value of standardized tests.
So that’s my student life, as it has been impacted by the system so far. As I contemplate my future, I hope that the lasting impact of the “chances and choices” the system has determined for me will continue to be, overall, positive. I know the system has influenced my student life from the top down to a large extent, but I also think it is up to me to continue to try to make the most of it from the bottom up, and to try to do what I can to impact that system for others in my future as a school counselor.
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