School Boundaries, Money and Race

By Jay Mathews
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, December 5, 2006 10:18 AM

Most education reporters think school boundary fights are boring. There are so many of them every year, and they all sound the same: Why does my kid have to take that long bus ride? What are you doing to our neighborhood school? Don't you know this will hurt the quality of education?

Of course if we could write about these disputes honestly, they would not be boring at all. The most intriguing issues of class and race are imbedded in many of them. But it is difficult to get anyone to admit that on the record, so we ignore the stories or bury them on page C11 and move on.

Occasionally however, particularly at Christmas time, gifts drop into my lap. Below is a remarkable account of one boundary dispute in suburban Atlanta sent to me by Shauna Grice, author of the novel "The Memoirs of Sara Harvey" and two more books soon to be published. We were exchanging e-mails about a homework column I did recently when she mentioned the fight over her local school boundary, and I urged her to write about it.

Grice is my guest columnist today. This is a big risk for me since it is clear she is a much better writer, and much braver about getting to the heart of the issue -- how much our school boundaries depend on the skin color and the size of the paychecks of the families involved. Nonetheless, this is a must read:

By Shauna Grice

Gricea@bellsouth.net

When the proposed attendance zoning maps for three new schools were released to parents of school-age children in Henry County just south of Atlanta, residents from the county's well-to-do Union Grove community threw back their heads and howled.

In a process to ease over-crowding, facilitated by Dr. Jack Parish, Superintendent of Schools for Henry County, the proposed boundary lines for the new schools had been drawn to include a small portion of the Fairview community. Others in Fairview would remain at the older schools. Fairview is a modest neighborhood made up of children who are predominately African-American and whose parents are less affluent than those who reside in Union Grove, a fact which has sent Union Grove residents reeling.

As a resident of the Fairview community with a child in middle school, I had my concerns. Our streets aren't made of gold, and the neighborhood certainly doesn't boast lavishly decorated Home and Garden-type vacation cottages; but it's not the ghetto either. Homes are modest and well-kept. Homeowners are comprised mostly of middle-aged baby-boomers, preparing for retirement and saving for their kids' college funds all at the same time.

Most of the children I know from Fairview come from good homes with loving parents who teach them to be well-behaved. I couldn't see much difference between families in our neighborhood and those in Union Grove. For days I had debated whether to attend a meeting where parents from both neighborhoods would come together to vent their concerns.

On the night of the meeting, after downloading a copy of the proposed maps off the Internet, I'd finally decided against going. We lived so far north of the zoning boundaries that our son was not likely to be in line to attend any of the new schools, elementary, middle or high schools. Besides, I was in no mood for an emotionally charged discussion where race is the key factor and everybody in the room is trying to act like it's not a factor. I'd had a long day, my feet hurt, and I just wanted to be left out of it.

I resigned myself to let others handle it and walked toward my bedroom for a hot bath. My husband followed me.

"Not going?" he asked.

"Nope," I replied, trying not to make eye contact.

"Scared?"

"No," I said as if he'd insulted me. "I'm not afraid of anything, you know that. It's just that CJ's not affected." I looked at the map and shoved it toward my husband. "See? Kids on this street stay at Austin Road Middle even if other Fairview kids are assigned to the new schools. Why even bother?"

"Because ultimately CJ is affected. Shauna, if the Union Grove parents win this argument, then very few kids, if any, from the Fairview neighborhood, will get to go to the new schools. Which means CJ's classes at Austin Road will remain crowded. Which means the school's book shortage will continue. Which means more study guides will continue to be sent home for tests instead of books. You think homework is bad now? Wait until he's in the 7th grade in an over-crowded algebra class where the teacher's only recourse is to send the work home and let you worry about it. By the way, didn't you get a C in algebra?"

He shot me a sinister grin. I hate him, I thought. He knows he's not supposed to win arguments except on Sundays during football season. I gave him the evil eye.

"You can pout all you want. But next year, when Austin Road Middle School's brick and mortar is bursting at the seams, and they send your baby to a trailer, you'll wish you had stood your ground," he said, sitting on the bed and kicking his shoes off. "After all," he continued, "your tax dollars paid for CJ to have the right to a bit more elbow room, too. Some of the Fairview kids need to move to the new school. You might make a difference."

So I went. And I listened. And I boiled.

Tight-faced parents from Union Grove made an emotional argument to the mild-mannered superintendent, who seemed to be turning odd shades of green with every testimonial.

"We did research before we bought these homes! We selected our neighborhoods based on the schools our kids would be going to. If we'd wanted our kids to go to school with Fairview community kids, we'd have bought homes there instead of where we bought them. Those lines need to be re-drawn!"

Shouts of agreement and spotty applause from the man's cheering section gave Dr. Parish a lump in his throat that we could all actually see him swallow. Fairview community parents watched him and wondered, "Is this 2006 or are we dreaming?"

At that moment, I watched a Union Grove child about my son's age nudge his father and say, "I don't get it, dad? Who cares where they draw the lines? Why is everybody so upset?"

While clapping, his father leaned over and said, "It's complicated, son. I'll explain it later."

That word rang in my ears. Complicated. He was both right and wrong. It was complicated. But then it was very simple, too. Our kids are black. And you don't want them at the new school with your kids. You're not really a racist, you just love your child and you want the best for him. I mean some of your golf buddies are African-American, right? So this can't be about race. It's about providing the best educational opportunity for your kid. You've heard rumors that kids from Fairview will disrupt your child's ability to learn. Nothing complicated there.

Ok, so what is the complicated part? Wanna hear it from my perspective? Fine, I'll admit it. I'm Black. My child is Black. Yet I cannot deny that if a group of underprivileged inner-city kids, Black, Latino, White, or whatever, wearing over-sized jeans, blasting gangsta rap music from their iPods, were to be bused to my son's school, I'd be worried.

Why would I be worried? I'll tell you why. It's the behavior that matters. My son doesn't fit the stereotype. He's not some hard core thug-type gang-banger. He's CJ. He loves Star Wars. He has a Lego collection. He makes his own action figures from aluminum foil. He's thoughtful. He's a good dancer. He's funny. He wipes wet kisses from blue-haired old ladies off his cheek after they walk away. He still sleeps with a night-light. (Although I'll deny that one to the high heavens if you ever repeat it).

In fact, he's JUST LIKE A MILLION OTHER KIDS IN AMERICA including the ones who live in Union Grove. That is what's complicated. You don't want him at your kid's school, but if you painted his face a different color and elevated his parents' income, he'd be your kid.

This is not just a problem for Henry County. It's happening in Fayette County, Ga., too, and in Virginia, and Alabama, as lower income families leave inner cities in search of affordable housing and better schools for their children in the suburbs. There are no easy answers, no ready solutions to where counties bursting at the seams should draw the lines when it comes to school expansion. But there are lines that should never be crossed, solutions that should never be considered. In other words, going backward to complete racial segregation should not be one of the choices on the table. We also should seek to avoid classism like the plague.

Within those parameters, there's room for us to work out space considerations and quality education for every single child who the federal government acknowledges should not be "left behind." I have a right to want the best for my child, but not at the expense of the quality of education for my neighbor's child just down the road. As we draw closer to December 11, the date by which time Henry County school officials have promised a resolution, let's hope I'm not the only one who feels this way.