How Do You Spell Success?

It seems there is no end to the social tentacles of the current recession. As reported by a recent N.Y. Times article, private school vs. public school education has become a painful issue for many families who believe in private school as the singular route to success.  So a special clash of reality and contemporary values has come to the fore.

Heightened parental anxiety about children’s academic performance predated the recession. Does it have to be a road through “Harvard”?  Oh, O.K., maybe another upper echelon Ivy School or one of the smaller and very select liberal arts colleges like Amherst or Swarthmore will do. Some children who can’t seem to ace the admissions tests for private schools that serve as platforms for “HARVARD” are left feeling almost worthless, a profound disappointment to their parents, who have put their own self esteem on the line with their kids’ scores and academic achievement. This is an au courant topic for sophisticated magazine pieces and books by benevolent child development experts, who urge getting to know and appreciating our kids for themselves, matching their opportunities to their interests and talents, rather than to parental ambitions.

It’s not all new, though. Even 2 generations ago, “the ideal eighteen year plan” for the road to success included a high school diploma from one of the feed in to ‘Harvard’ prep schools. The opportunity was not as common as it is these days; therefore, few parents or kids were heart-broken about having to settle for public education.  I, personally, never felt I missed anything important by not applying to a prep school. In fact, I think that my education was broadened by having spent 4 years in a typical small city high school. Fewer than half of my classmates even applied to college. They took courses that prepared them for office work. I still think that my elective typing course has been more useful than the years of Latin urged by my father. But perhaps the most meaningful aspect of my high school education was social, or more accurately, sociological. The members of my class made up a normal curve of American social classes. There were one or two wealthy kids, few with college educated parents, and about the same number of children whose families lived on an income below the “poverty line”.  There was racial and religious diversity. There were even gangs and gang wars. It was easy for those of us who wanted to steer clear of the “cross-fire” to be safe:  by going home when the last bell rang or more often, working late on the Newspaper or the Yearbook. You might say that high School journalism kept me out of harm’s way. 

Since so few students could afford to go away to college and none had ever applied to an Ivy League or Seven Sisters school, the process of applying was barely stressful. And when we got to college, we brought a social consciousness rarely shared by our new classmates.  After the first semester, the prep school kids didn’t seem so smart, barely had any academic advantage. And by now we have all forgotten the dates of Caesar’s conquests, but I personally will never forget what I learned about getting along in the real world.