I realized early on that we were diving into deep waters when we enrolled our child in private school. The endless meetings, events, galas, and auctions that demanded hefty “donations” and formal attire were a clear sign. My work inbox was flooded with calendar invites for committees I had never joined, all because new “members” were expected to volunteer a set number of hours each year. These obligations often clashed with my work schedule, forcing me to use PTO or work late nights to catch up. This was the price of being part of the school community, alongside the exorbitant tuition.
Yes, we made this choice. I never envisioned having a child in private education, but our eldest needed the specialized programs this school provided, and we were ready to invest in it. We had explored the IEP route at our local public school and even sought a transfer to a different public school, but our child was still struggling. His academic challenges were affecting his mental and emotional well-being. We were determined to do whatever it took to support him.
While venting to a friend over coffee, she mentioned a school nearby that catered to children with ODD, Dyslexia, and similar challenges. Although they didn’t offer accommodations like public schools, they provided smaller class sizes, tailored tutoring, and a curriculum designed to meet each student’s unique needs. It sounded like a dream come true.
For the most part, it was—aside from the financial strain and having our kids split between two different schools. My salary practically disappeared into tuition and fees. But we decided to give it a year; if it meant our son could get the support he needed to flourish, it would be worth it. We took it one day at a time.
The time commitments were overwhelming. Many parents seemed to practically live at the school, helping teachers and staff. It became apparent that spending more time there increased your social capital and favor. I tried to keep pace, but balancing my other school-aged children, a full-time job, and my eldest’s needs left little time for socializing in the hallways.
In many respects, my son thrived in this new environment. The bi-weekly one-on-one tutoring sessions built on each other, and we communicated with the tutor about what to work on at home. It was intensive, but my son seemed to handle it well. His teacher described him as a “joy” to have in class, and he appeared to be making friends and enjoying recess. My heart soared with pride.
However, small issues began to surface. He struggled to connect with a classmate who occasionally teased him at recess, hiding his pencil box or making silly noises. The teacher informed me of the situation but reassured me they could manage it, attributing it to typical childhood behavior.
As weeks passed, the teasing escalated. My son began crying before school. The teacher mentioned she had sought additional support from the Head of School and that they would work with the counselor to address the situation. They planned to support both boys individually, viewing my son as passive rather than aggressive. I felt reassured by this approach.
But then, things shifted. The other child’s parents were not pleased. Let’s call him Ethan. He had been at the school since pre-K, and his family was well-off, with three kids enrolled. They felt their son was being treated unfairly and wanted a meeting with the teacher, my husband, and me, which the Head of School facilitated.
During the meeting, the teacher laid out the timeline of events and the steps taken so far. Ethan’s father reacted angrily, slamming his chair back and exclaiming, “I can’t believe this!” Meanwhile, his mother talked about her frequent involvement at the school, claiming she had never seen such behavior from her son. It felt bizarre; nobody was angry before this, as we were all just trying to resolve the issue.
After the meeting, the Head of School seemed distant. She later called me with surprising news. She believed my son’s educational needs weren’t being met and suggested he would be better off elsewhere. She insisted this decision was unrelated to the previous meeting, but I knew better. My son was thriving, and now he was being asked to leave.
I was devastated and furious. I questioned whether the other parents’ threats to withdraw their children influenced their decision, and the Head of School’s evasive answers left me suspicious. My son was making progress and exhibited no behavioral problems. Why was this happening?
He was allowed to finish the week, but I didn’t feel right sending him back. I let him return one last time to say goodbye to friends and teachers. I was angry then, and I still am. His teacher expressed regret over his departure and offered to assist him in transitioning to a new school. She even offered to connect with his new teacher. It was heartfelt, but she no longer works there and remains an acquaintance.
My son’s self-esteem took a significant hit. Although he has since bounced back, he still feels sadness and anger about the situation. He struggles to comprehend it, just as I do. We reached out through letters and calls, expressing our concerns to board members. Many suggested legal action, but we lacked the resources and time for that. Even if we “won,” our focus had to be on him.
My husband and I couldn’t shake the feeling that if we had more financial resources or time, we wouldn’t have faced this situation. Our child was penalized because we couldn’t afford to send our other kids to this school or contribute additional time and money on top of his tuition. It’s disheartening to witness someone in authority prioritize an affluent parent’s indignation over the needs of a thriving student—one who embodied the very mission of the school itself. This experience has soured my perception of private education, and while I recognize that not all private schools operate this way, it has deepened my respect for public school teachers and staff. The public school system is not perfect, but I appreciate their dedication now more than ever.
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Summary
This parent shares their experience with enrolling their child in a private school, where initial progress was overshadowed by bullying issues and ultimately led to their child being asked to leave. The narrative reflects on the emotional turmoil and unfairness of the situation, highlighting the disparity between privileged families and those with fewer resources. The author expresses newfound appreciation for public education amid their struggles.