Sara and Chris Mirabueno of Rainier Beach in Seattle will face a touch decision on where to send their daughter Mikaela, now 3, to school.
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Out of My Zip Code and Out of my Comfort Zone
I tried to hide the distress I felt while reading to three students from Libby McCullough’s kindergarten class at Cooper Elementary, but I’m a poor actress.
“Little pig, little pig, let me come in,” I said in my best wolf accent, which is similar to what my own children would identify as my grumpy mom voice. Of course, the little pig does not let the big bad wolf in. He gets all huffy and puffy, and we all know what happens next in the story of The Three Little Pigs.
Page eight: “He huffed and he puffed and he blew the house down and swallowed the first pig.”
“He what? Oh my gosh! I can’t believe he actually ate the pig! He’s not supposed to get the pigs,” I squealed as I looked at the intent faces of 5-year-olds sitting cross legged on the floor with me. “I’m about 40 years old and this is the first time I’ve ever heard of the wolf eating one of the pigs.”
The children were astounded, too. For a different reason.
“Whoa, you’re 40?!” a bright little boy named Angel exclaimed.
During a morning of volunteering at Cooper in West Seattle, I read three different versions of the classic story to small groups of kindergarteners. We compared and contrasted the books and created big paper pig houses for three bulletin boards. It was a great experience, even though I was a bit of an oddity at Cooper.
South end schools don’t see a lot of parent volunteers. Many parents are working two jobs. The percentage of single parent households is higher in south Seattle and stay-at-home moms are rare. My kids go to north end schools, where we seem to have an abundance of parents with flexible schedules helping out in classrooms.
As one tiny step toward equity in our public schools, I’ve been volunteering in several South Seattle schools. It’s taken me out of my zip code and out of my comfort zone.
A few seconds after I walked into Roberta Lindeman’s class at Chief Sealth High School, I realized I was in trouble. Ich spreche und schreibe ein kleines Deutsch. Ich hätte Spanisch studieren sollen. Translation: I speak and write a little German. I should have studied Spanish.
Lindeman and Delfino Munoz teach a one-of-a-kind bilingual course called Proyecto Saber, which means “Project: To Know.” It’s an elective, and it’s effective. Most of their students are Latino. They’re tutored in all academic areas, although the greatest need is with math subjects. Unfortunately, high school math is a foreign language to me too. The probability of being a useful math tutor is higher for me in the lower grades. My next assignment was more up my alley: I’m off to Hawthorne Elementary in Southeast Seattle to work on foundational math skills with small groups of kids. Join me. Make some time to volunteer in a South Seattle school this month. With help from Seattle’s Child readers, a few steps toward equity might become a march.
Part Two of a Continuing Series on Inequity in Our Schools
Sara Mirabueno is haunted by a decision she needs to make. Should her daughter Mikaela attend their neighborhood school in the Rainier Beach area, or should she go to the Queen Anne school where Mirabueno is a first-grade teacher?
The Seattle School district has a policy that allows children to attend the public school where their parent teaches. That leaves Mirabueno with a choice that challenges everything she believes about diversity and education.
“I think about the differences between north and south Seattle on a daily basis,” she says.
Mirabueno, who is Caucasian, grew up in Seattle with friends from Japan and Korea. Her husband Chris is Filipino and they both “love the diversity” of the Upper Rainier Beach neighborhood where they live. They meet people with different cultural backgrounds and they find south Seattle to be a “comfortable, friendly, interesting place.”
But education is a huge part of Mirabueno’s life and she’s familiar with schools’ test scores and discipline records. In those categories, north Seattle is superior, and the school where she’s been a teacher for nine years – John Hay Elementary – is one of best in the district.
“By having Mikaela attend my school, I can guarantee an excellent education with financial resources from parents and the community that go beyond what the district provides,” she says. “That’s great, except my school is not as diverse as I would like it to be and my daughter wouldn’t be around as many kids who are the same race as she is.”
What would you do?
For Mirabueno it is a “tricky, yet privileged decision” she’ll make next year. Now it’s a public one, too, because she is sharing her dilemma with Seattle’s Child. After reading “North Mom, South Mom” – the first report I wrote about the disparity between north and south Seattle schools – she wanted to join the discussion, and the search for solutions.
Here, There and Everywhere
We don’t have to look far to see that the divide between successful and struggling schools isn’t limited to Seattle. Teachers and parents from Everett to Tacoma have told me about their “haves and have-nots” issues.
Inequities in the Everett School district are in reverse. Their south end schools are more desirable than those in the north. One school in Pierce County had to borrow math books from a “privileged” school in their district, photocopy worksheet pages for their mostly minority kids, and then return the books.
When educator Adie Simmons pulls the magnifying glass back a little more, she sees disparity in communities all around the state.
“We talk to parents from tiny little towns in Washington, that some people don’t even know exist, and they’re telling us the same things,” says Simmons, director of the Office of Education Ombudsman. Governor Chris Gregoire created the office about 18 months ago to promote equity in K-12 education.
Before Simmons was appointed as the state’s first education ombudsman, she oversaw grants for Seattle Schools – a district she calls “clearly divided.”
“At one point I wanted to take the Seattle PTSA council on a field trip to show them south Seattle neighborhoods. I felt like they were living in a different reality,” she recalls. “They would ask, ‘Can’t those parents in the south volunteer and form PTAs and raise money like we do?’ It’s not that simple.”
Simmons’ passion is teaching parents of all ethnic backgrounds, many of whom speak limited English, how to be partners in education so that they can improve their kids’ chances of academic success. Her biggest challenge is helping parents who had terrible experiences when they were in school and are not inclined to get involved.
The Lucky One
Ron knows all about terrible experiences. His parents didn’t have much money and when he was 6 years old, his family home in Spokane was demolished after 30 days notice. In Spokane Public Schools, Ron’s teachers either underestimated him or disregarded him. He was told he was a trouble maker, so he acted like one.
That changed when a fifth-grade teacher established high expectations for him. He flourished. Three high school teachers also thought he had potential and pushed him toward college. He started seeing opportunities instead of obstacles. Today Ron considers himself “one of the lucky ones” who made it through childhood poverty and racism.
Now, as King County Executive, Ron Sims has introduced a program that has been on his mind since childhood, and took almost two years to develop. It's called the Equity and Social Justice Initiative. Each of King County's departments is charged with finding ways to narrow racial and economic disparities, as outlined in the executive’s 28-page report. As one example, the Public Health Department will compile a database of its employees' language skills. That'll make it easier to find translators for more than half the patients at county clinics who don't speak English (www.kingcounty.gov/equity.) Sims says the initiative “tears down the curtain that hides inequities.” His office is looking at “decades of misguided policies” that have provided inadequate schools and services to the region’s poorest neighborhoods and isolated them from economic opportunities.
When a majority of us live in nice neighborhoods with nice jobs and nice schools, he says it’s easy to ignore these realities:
• A child in south King County is more than twice as likely to drop out of high school as one in east King County. • A youth of color is six times more likely than a white youth to spend time in a correctional facility. • A Southeast Seattle resident is four times more likely to die from diabetes than a resident of Mercer Island. • A Native American baby is four times more likely to die before his or her first birthday than a white baby.
“The statistics are jarring and maddening, but they’re not inevitable,” says Sims. “People say, ‘You can’t get rid of poverty.’ Yeah, you can. People say, ‘You can’t address racial issues in the classroom.’ Yeah, you can. I’m under no illusion that this is going to be easy, but we can have fairness and opportunity for all people in King County.”
King County is the only jurisdiction in the United States with such an initiative. Sims says cities around the nation are interested in it. Last month he was invited to Atlanta to discuss specific, measurable goals with leaders from the Centers for Disease Control.
In the area of education, for example, Sims wants the library system to take on the responsibility of providing reading materials and services to unlicensed daycares. While the county doesn’t run schools, it wants to be a partner in education. Sims adds that in his 12 years as county executive, Maria Goodloe-Johnson is the first Seattle Schools superintendent who came to him wanting to know what services King County provides to schools.
“A lot of people recognize the problems,” says Sims. “Now we’re working on solutions that will be like a tsunami washing out inequities here.”
Linda Thomas is a freelance journalist and she’s serious about volunteering in any South Seattle school that wants help. Send her an e-mail: linda@lindathomas.com.
