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I have a modest proposal for the state and city officials responsible for placing Regents exams a week after finals: Could you please flip the schedule and schedule Regents before finals?
While not all city high school students take Regents exams in January, there are no classes at all in most New York City high schools during the state exams week. Yet nearly all take finals, or midterms in many of their classes a week before.
That means that last week, my two high schoolers had multiple midterm or final exams on the same day, nearly every day. They stayed up way too late studying – or, at least I think that's what they were doing. Their bedroom became a landfill of crumpled paper, flashcards, calculators and notebooks. Tired and cranky, they complained they didn't have adequate time to prepare.
Warning to anyone who is awaiting results of the latest round of high school admissions: It's not going to be over soon.
You may wonder what that means. After all, if you've done the required homework, you've probably taken numerous tours of New York City High schools, endured tryout anxiety with your child, and possibly used vacation time for tours. Perhaps you've even shelled out hundreds of dollars on specialized test tutoring for the specialized high schools and discussed how to rank certain schools.
You've already calculated commute times and weighed the odds of admission in seemingly endless discussions with other parents, teachers and students.
After two New York City public high school searches in as many years, I've had lots of ideas about what might make the process a little easier on overtaxed parents: virtual tours, excuse letters for employers, more clear and transparent information from the schools.
I've recounted tales of falling asleep on tours, frustration and fear over tryouts, and concerns about preparing for the SHSAT exams that determine entrance into specialized high schools. I sought out advice from parents, and got an earful about similar frustrations.
I wondered whether anything had improved since my search last fall. When I read a father's plea in the New York Daily News for popular city high schools to do a better job accommodating parents, and his description of enormous lines and long waits for limited open houses, I realized it had not.
When I left that painful ordeal known as the New York City public school parent teacher conference (also known as, "Teacher Can You Spare Three Minutes,'') last week, I overheard a parent who had also just left the building admonishing a child.
I didn't want to eavesdrop, but the voice sounded furious and frantic, and the words were something akin to: "And I heard it from every single teacher!"
Has to be a freshman parent, I thought to myself, walking away with the wisdom that I've acquired as the parent of a junior who struggled through the beginning of his first year in a large high school, as so many do.
A group of friends, parents of students who are fearfully entering that parental rite of torture also known as the public high school search in New York City, wondered recently what it takes to get into the best high schools.
"Test prep!" said one, who was calculating the daunting costs and time commitment of preparing twins to take exams that determine entry into the eight highly-coveted specialized schools.
"Community service?" said another, whose older child had been shut out of his first choice high school when he admitted in an interview to having no time to volunteer.
After his bruising first week of high school, I found my exhausted freshman son lying in a heap of books and papers, soccer cleats and uniform still on, furry cat purring next to him. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that it would be a little while still before I have to worry about what time he’s coming home at night, where he is, and what his curfew would be.
But it’s coming. Parents of freshmen, who have endured an exhausting admissions season, may be taken aback by a new demand to go out on weekends and stay out ever later.
The new world of high school social life requires careful navigation for parents. Kids want to fit in, and for some, it’s the first time they develop a whole new life outside of the family and familiar friends. Because of high school choice, their friends may live in all five boroughs, making for some daunting transportation obstacles, late night commutes and a lot of sleepovers.
With thousands of New York City high school students taking the SATs this weekend, the news that a Long Island teenager was arrested and charged with fraudently taking the exam for six other teens, brings into focus yet again, the degree with which testing has become high-stakes at all levels.
Insideschools' blogger Liz Willen, interviewed by NBC News for the story, says the cheating didn't surprise her. After all, New York City teachers have been accused of erasing wrong answers on Regents exams, and some wealthy parents pay big bucks to tutors and consultants to give their kids an advantage in admissions to top colleges. But, she writes, the headlines about the SAT scandal are overshadowing another, very real problem: the number of students who make it to college unprepared, and drop out.
Read her post: "We're asking the wrong questions in the latest SAT cheating scandal," on the Hechinger Report.
Shortly after noon one day this week, I called my household of young teenagers to inquire about progress on the summer reading assignments. (Why get them done early when you can wait till the very last moment?)
The phone rang endlessly, the texts went unanswered. A sleepy voice finally answered the call at about 2 p.m. and announced: “We just woke up!”
This morning, the first alarm bell went off some eight hours earlier -- shortly after 6 a.m. The ordeal that will follow from now on is one that defies the natural rhythm of teenagers, I dread it, and I imagine a similar struggle is unfolding in a city of long subway and bus commutes to school.
While preparing for middle school graduation this week, I was reminded of my older son’s orientation five years ago. Parents and children were separated, somewhat symbolically. We sat on the floor and listened as the principal described the enormous physical, emotional and academic changes that would transform our innocent fifth-graders forever.
He asked if we had any questions.
Stupidly, I raised my hand and asked if it was still okay to bring cupcakes to school to celebrate middle school birthdays. Wiser parents in the audience laughed. The principal shook his head and made it clear that not only were the cupcake days over, we very soon wouldn’t be taking our children to school or picking them up anymore.
“They are going to be riding the subway by themselves – get over it,’’ he said.
It seemed so harsh to me. No more hand-holding! No more chatting with parents at pick-up and drop-off. Time to let go, little by little, as I explained recently to a new middle school parent, whose little girl clung to her side at a welcoming dinner.
Not that letting go was easy. My older son, now a high school sophomore, believes he was last in his class allowed to ride the subway alone. He may never forgive me for calling the Jamba Juice near his school one day and insisting his name be called out aloud so I could find out if he was there. He still resents my insistence that he could not have a Facebook page until eighth-grade, along with the outrageous embarrassment of lugging his mother’s very old and uncool cell phone around.
Such are the slings and arrows of middle school, also known as the Age of Embarrassment. Parents are not to be seen or heard, although they come in handy for cash, keys, Metrocards and the purchase of electronic devices. Academic performance often slumps; educators have long argued over the best way to boost motivation.
Voices crack and change at the most awkward of times. Straight hair turns curly and curly hair turns straight. Growth spurts of eight inches a year or more are not unusual. Dreaded acne appears. The mirror becomes a friend and an enemy. Sweet girls become mean girls. Old friends may become strangers, or even enemies.
Suddenly, there are secrets of all kinds. And sometimes, outright, unexplained misery.
“Nobody gets through middle school unscathed,’’ a wise middle school educator once told me, during a particularly painful moment.
Some of us retain middle school memories that still make us cringe. The lucky leave buoyed by tremendous friendships and new self-confidence. Much depends on the chemistry of a particular class, or the sensitivity of teachers to the astonishing changes that take place during these crucial years.
Watching the eighth-graders at a pre-graduation event recently, I noticed some of the extreme height differences had started to even out. Some of the guys looked ready to shave. I was struck by the amount of time the soon-to-be graduates spent simply hugging one another.
“It’s what we do,’’ one young woman – for she could certainly no longer be called a little girl – said to me.
For a brief moment, it appeared she would get through unscathed.
I sat with my mouth agape as the dentist poked around and asked a question.
“It appears you have been grinding your teeth,” he said. “Do you know why?”
There could have been many answers (high-pressure job, deadlines, raising teenagers) but I knew at once the real reason: My teeth are likely as ground down as I feel after 10 years as a New York City public-school parent, fighting everything from admissions decisions to scheduling and budget cuts.
Not that I have any regrets. My kids have flourished in the city’s public schools, and most days we feel really lucky to have had access to the great schools they’ve landed in—even though there’s always a new battle to fight.
I can’t help wondering what would happen if we all stopped pushing back, and just let it be.
What would happen if the parents of dozens of children who have been shut out of their own neighborhood schools just accepted the decision and sent their little learners to schools far from their homes, to locations that are often terribly inconvenient?
What would have happened if we didn’t fight back with a letter-writing campaign and a phone call barrage the year three of my younger child’s friends were shut out from any middle school at all?
What would happen to the thousands of high school students who every year get no match at all to a high school of their choice if they didn’t fight back against unacceptable placements?
What would have happened to my younger child’s middle school if parents had simply accepted a highly unpopular New York City Department of Education proposal last year to jam 270 students into the American Sign Language & English Dual Language Secondary School, even after parents and educators from the school insisted the move would create dangerous overcrowding and deprive special needs students of needed space?
Ultimately, the Department of Education backed off, but only after parents fought back by finding our own new building—St. Michael Academy, a closing Catholic school. It wasn’t ready when we moved in this year, but we’ve been so happy to have our own space—and gratified that the fighting back paid off.
That particular battle left me more exhausted than any other I’ve encountered as a public-school parent, but it clarified for me the drastic need to push back and make our voices heard.
Before he stepped down, New York City Schools Chancellor Joel Klein acknowledged in an interview with Beth Fertig that he had problems getting his message across to parents who – among other things -- were angered by his decision to close an array of city high schools.
Students were plenty angry about the school closings as well. By the time kids get to high school, it’s time for them to develop the tools and instincts to fight their own battles.
This became clear to me last week when I opened up my son’s tentative schedule for junior year and noticed many mistakes. I immediately called and emailed guidance counselors, teachers, and department heads. I even offered to show up in any office that might welcome me.
The responses were polite but non-committal.
Finally, I impressed upon my son the need to take responsibility for his own schedule, and to find out how to make the changes he wanted.
I was tired of fighting.
What would happen, I wondered, if he didn’t fight back? Would he be stuck with unacceptable classes and languish on waiting lists? I’m happy to report he found the right person to meet with, challenged his schedule and got many—although not all—of the changes he wanted.
I can’t help wondering what would happen if we all stopped pushing back, and just let it be. The thought terrifies me. It's not an option. To be a New York City public school parent means you must question authority and fight back -- even if means a lot of teeth-grinding.