We moved into a fixer-upper in a small, upper middle class public school district. A larger, more diverse public school district surrounded this island of opportunity. Our small district had the smallest schools, smallest classes and spent the most money per student per year. They had great brochures touting all the latest education innovations. The staff and administrators had great hairdos and great suits. The administration building was a sleek, glass, wood and brick facility that would be at home in any resort setting.

The communication pipeline to the parents and nearby community was exceptional. We were made aware of all the great things for kids that were in place and coming soon; computers, increased uses of technology, block scheduling, an innovative school calendar that varied the number of instructional days, start and end dates, and included intercessions (two week breaks at various times).

During Kindergarten curriculum night we were introduced to exciting new instructional strategies like “magic spelling”. Beginning in kindergarten the child is encouraged to write down words however he thinks they are spelled. Everything is correct. It was all new to me. I was appreciative that the professionals took the time to explain the instructional strategies being used.

It certainly helped years later as I listened to a father question why his daughter received an “A” on a book report that had virtually no words spelled correctly. The teacher curtly replied that the assignment obviously wasn’t “spelling” it was “content”.

This school of 120 children in grades K-6 had dangerous hallways: running, shoving, students being knocked to the floor and a playground that included bullies. Staff were busy in their classrooms. When I inquired about the chaos, staff shared their concern about how different today’s kids are. I was not prepared for the chaotic atmosphere of the school. As a last resort, I filed a police report concerning bullying on the playground.

My child followed his second grade teacher around the classroom peppering her with incessant questions. He proudly wore his periodic table T-shirt and took great pride that he had memorized it. On an extended car trip, he built a telegraph in the back seat of the car and entertained himself communicating with strangers by Morse code along the way. A few months into beginning piano he was playing classical music and pedaling like he was born doing it. Listening to the classical station on the drive to school, he would announce the title of the piece and the composer before the DJ had a chance. I was glad he had varied interests and seemed to be doing well.

By the spring of second grade, my child began talking about going directly to the seventh grade. I laughed, but at his insistence we discussed grade skipping with his teacher at the next conference. She ducked, and in a barely audible whisper advised we should not be talking about that. She understood the problem however, and agreed to pursue it. I came away from that meeting with the impression grade skipping was a very risky, scary thing to do that seemed to jeopardize everyone.

My child was tested, and was allowed to skip third grade and go directly to fourth grade. There was a great deal of drama associated with the grade skip. It was recommended he go to another school, since our school was so small and the other kids on the playground may not like the fact that he skipped one grade. My child started fourth grade in a nearby school whose enrollment K-6 was around 225.

His teacher wanted to make sure he hadn’t missed anything by skipping third grade, so she placed my child with the slow groups. Things began to unravel quickly. He was increasingly sad and crying all the time when I came to pick him up. He was kept after school for all types of misbehavior in the classroom, on the playground, in PE.

Written comments from his teachers included:
• My concerns continue to be in the areas of on task behavior during instruction and following the class rules
• ____ needs to take responsibility for his own actions and be able to work with the given materials or task in a productive way
• Interactions with classmates are sometimes inconsiderate
• Let me know how I may assist you
• I am not pleased with the language I have heard that he uses
• I do not appreciate the tone of sarcasm he uses with other children, the aids, myself
• Please respond

After a few weeks, he was not functioning in any aspect of his school day. He was, in his words, unable to do the schoolwork. He couldn’t even understand the assignments or what the teacher wanted him to do. Meanwhile, his teachers screamed at him and admitted losing control in the classroom.

I was quite frantic trying to resolve whatever the problem was. We had meeting after meeting with the school professionals seeking help. I asked repeatedly if the curriculum was contributing to the problem. The professionals, however, focused on his behavior, how often I was seen at school and his computer at home. His behavior had become horrible at school I agreed, but I corrected their perception of me by reminding them that the only time I was in that school was to find my child to take him home. Because he was so often required to stay after school due to poor behavior, he was seldom standing at the curb for me to pick him up. I also corrected their comments about his computer at home. The fact was we had no computer at home.

By October, he was rapidly deteriorating. He was at the point where he ceased functioning at all. Not at school, not at home and he stopped playing his beloved piano. On November 2, I picked him up crying for the last time.

I enrolled my child in a public school district in the neighboring state. I had visited a public school in this district that:
• Focused on appropriate curriculum and effective instruction
• Strengths-based assessments and interventions
• Was located in a low socioeconomic area.
• Had a school population three times the size as the one we left
• Spent half as much per student per year as the district we left
• Had class sizes much larger than in the school we left

Very surprisingly, the school was calm and orderly, hallways, playground and lunchroom. The Principal and Teachers were visible everywhere. Expectations were high. The focus was on strengths. The building was about 50 years old and it reminded me of my early school days. Just 17 miles from that horrific school experience at our neighborhood school and to the realization that the children haven’t changed, the adults have.

As a result of being provided an appropriately challenging curriculum and effective instruction by highly trained teachers, my child started college half days at age 13. His first class in college was organic chemistry. At 14 he was asked to do research for NASA and at 15 presented the results of his research to the Nebraska Academy of Sciences at their annual meeting.

My child went to high school the other half of the school day. He took a variety of required courses in addition to machine shop, auto mechanics, jazz band, swim team, soccer, and was piano accompanist for all the choirs and solos. At the high school he was honored as the all-around outstanding student of the quarter.

Written comments from his teachers include:
• An excellent student
• Shows respect for self/others
• Pleasure to have in class
• Takes pride in accurate work
• Cooperative and helpful

My child graduated from college at age 20 with 190 credit hours. At 22 he is well on his way to a Ph.D. in Organic Chemistry and has had two papers published.