Written by: Jamesina Greene
Private school funding has long been a controversial topic, sparking heated debates during every legislative session. Advocates and critics clash over its merits and shortcomings, leaving policymakers to navigate a deeply polarizing issue.
In Maryland, this debate gained significant traction in 2016 when then-Governor Larry Hogan introduced the Maryland BOOST Scholarship Coalition. Funded by the state legislature, the initiative received bipartisan support from the General Assembly as recently as spring 2022. Yet, despite political backing, data suggests the program has fallen far short of its promise. Critics argue that taxpayer dollars funneled into the voucher initiative have been diverted from public schools, leaving them underfunded and struggling to meet students’ needs.
Research paints a damning picture of such programs. Evidence shows they overwhelmingly benefit students already attending private schools, while the small minority transitioning from public schools often experience a decline in academic performance. For many, these findings underscore the need to reevaluate—or eliminate—such initiatives altogether.
For my family, the shortcomings of this approach are more than theoretical. My son, Tre’, and I lived through its consequences.
The Myth of Private School Superiority
In our society, private schools are often held up as the gold standard in education. Many believe they offer a superior alternative to public schools for several reasons:
- A more comprehensive curriculum
- Outstanding academics, sports, and extracurricular activities
- Smaller class sizes fostering personalized attention
- Holistic education that nurtures the “whole child”
As a mother, I shared these aspirations. I wanted my son to receive the best possible education and refused to let systemic barriers—such as being an African-American boy in this country—limit his opportunities.
Tre’ began attending a local private school as a toddler and progressed steadily, advancing each year until he reached second grade at age six. By all accounts, Tre’ was a bright, lively, and talkative child. But as time passed, my family noticed troubling changes. Tre’ grew withdrawn and sullen. When asked if he was okay, he would always answer, “Yes,” but his demeanor told another story.
Confronting an Uncomfortable Reality
The truth came to light unexpectedly. A coworker whose daughter was in Tre’s class approached me one day and asked a question that left me reeling: “Jami, has Tre’ said anything to you about the teacher calling him stupid?” She went on to share that her daughter reported other children refusing to play with Tre’ because, as they put it, “some of the brown might get on them.” Tre’ was the only African-American student in his class and one of only a handful in the entire school.
I was devastated but not entirely surprised. My mother—who had also noticed changes in Tre’’s behavior—later told me that he had confided in her, saying, “Mom-Mom, I’m s
tupid.” When she asked who told him that, he simply dropped his head and said, “Nobody.”
Seeking Accountability
Alarmed, I repeatedly reached out to Tre’s teacher but received no response. Frustrated, my father and I visited the school and met with the principal. We expressed our concerns about the teacher’s behavior and her failure to address our inquiries. The principal’s response was as dismissive as it was infuriating. Rather than addressing our concerns, she suggested that Tre’ be put on Ritalin, claiming he was “very active and disruptive.” I reminded her that she was an educator, not a psychologist, and her suggestion was inappropriate.
Her refusal to engage meaningfully with our concerns spoke volumes. When I went to retrieve Tre’ from his classroom, the scene before me was a stark confirmation of what I had been told. Tre’ was seated far from his classmates, excluded from the ongoing activity. I confronted the teacher, asking why my son was isolated. She replied dismissively, “Tre’ is disruptive. After he finishes his work, he gets up and talks to other students, just doing whatever he wants.” When I asked why she hadn’t communicated these issues to me, she shrugged and said she was “too busy to deal with him.”
That was the final straw. I asked Tre’ to gather his belongings, and we left the school, never to return.
A Call for Change
Our experience underscores the urgent need to scrutinize the assumption that private schools inherently offer superior education. Programs like the Maryland BOOST Scholarship Coalition may sound promising on paper, but in practice, they can perpetuate inequities, neglect the needs of marginalized students, and fail to deliver on their promises.
Every child deserves a safe, nurturing, and equitable educational environment. As parents, policymakers, and community members, we must challenge systems that fall short and work toward solutions that genuinely serve all students—not just a privileged few.
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Jamesina Greene is the founder and executive director of “A Mother’s Cry,” a community-based outreach and advocacy organization dedicated to supporting women and mothers impacted by social inequalities and injustices. According to Jamesina, “A Mother’s Cry is not just about her tears; it’s about her voice. This voice raises awareness and nurtures, crossing ethnic, social, and geographical barriers.”