by Liz Willen

When I first visited the Lab School for Collaborative Studies three years ago, I hoped my oldest son, then a fifth-grader, would rank it first on his middle school list. Lab has always attracted top students and teachers, and in the classrooms we visited, students seemed engaged and excited about what they were learning. The quality of art and writing on the walls stood out. I liked the whole idea of collaborative learning, but I especially loved the idea that if he got into Lab, he could stay for high school, because Lab spans grades 6 through 12.

As it turned out, my son, who loves both art and writing, preferred the Clinton School for Artists and Writers, in part because he’d heard "too many cruel stories about the homework at Lab." Clinton was a great choice, but alas, it has no high school. Like tens of thousands of equally harried city parents, we are on the tour circuit once again, climbing stairways, peeking into labs, and earnestly discussing what we like -- or don't like -- about each school. I'm certain I'm the one having more of those conversations, however. My tour-weary son seems to sleep through many of the question-and-answer periods, although he certainly checks out the neighborhoods and finds out if the kids are allowed to leave school for lunch.

With great curiosity, we checked out Lab’s high school this week, where I learned something that would have made me furious if he were a student there now. Lab can no longer give preference to its own middle-schoolers; all applicants from Manhattan’s District Two have the same priority status for the 138 Lab high school seats. That means if you have a kid at Lab who wants to stay, you have to apply and rank it first, just like any other District Two applicant.

It’s enormously complicated and competitive to find and get into great public schools in the city. That’s why Lab seemed like such an obvious choice to me a few years back – why not choose a middle school attached to a highly-regarded high school? Why not skip these mornings of coming late into work and pulling your child out of classes to wander scuffed linoleum corridors and peer into classrooms like unwanted guests, all the time sniffing that universal school-lunch smell that brings me back to the the crumbling fishsticks and rubbery hotdogs of my childhood.

While it’s true that some Lab middle school students leave anyway -- preferring the larger specialized high schools or other options -- many families depended on the back-up of staying put. I know I would've.

Lab principal Brooke Jackson didn't spend a lot of time talking about the new policy, and seemed much happier fielding specific questions about the school. She articulated its values, which include a fierce regard for pluralism and diversity. And she detailed the rich educational opportunities that await students who learn together and from one another, all part of the school’s well-established philosophy. The students we met seemed passionate about their high school and the many opportunities to learn. They spoke of participating in clubs that examine breakfast cereals -- and others that explore Marxist philosophy. Lab offers plenty of challenging academics and sports (but little music, to my son's disappointment). I’m not sure where he’ll rank Lab this time, but I’m sure of one thing – parents and kids who may have already invested a lot of time and energy into one school can’t possibly appreciate rule changes that might force them out.