Garrison Elementary. Photo from DCPS.

You don’t have to try very hard to find reasons to worry about sending a child to Garrison Elementary School. But next year, our 3 year-old will suit up in a yellow and blue uniform and walk the half-block from our house to Garrison for his first taste of school.

Garrison — nestled beside million-dollar homes near U Street and Logan Circle — has blue cage-like panels over some of its windows. Air conditioners sag out of others. Out front, the steps were crumbling until DCPS finally filled in the hole with different-colored cement, leaving a permanent scar.

In back, an orange construction fence blocks off a part of the playground where sinkholes yawn in the grass. Online, the school profile reveals a math proficiency level of 50%. English: 44%. Only 1% of students qualified as “advanced” in English.

This is the school where my husband and I are enthusiastically sending our son next year. He’ll sit in a brightly-colored preschool classroom, untroubled by the rust and crumble we see. He already thinks the Garrison playground is the best. And we’re slowly learning that great potential is hiding inside this tired building.

Despite all the school-choice angst that I read about and hear about from friends, our decision has been pretty simple, based on four factors: Garrison is across the street from our house. We know the principal and like him. We saw one preschool class and liked it. And a passionate parent community has blossomed at the school, loud and devoted.

That’s it. We looked around briefly, failed miserably at the charter lottery, decided to defer one expensive private preschool option, and said, “What the heck. Let’s give Garrison a chance.”

To some parents, this may sound impulsive. It is. We are. Life is easier and more fun that way. But to borrow a favorite phrase of President Obama’s, let me be clear: If any of the factors above hadn’t existed, the choice would be far less simple.

First, location: I grew up across the street from my elementary school. I played recreational basketball in its gym. I sledded on its lawn. My parents, both educators, are public school cheerleaders. That’s all in my blood, and it’s hard to shake. But I never expected, living in a more urban setting as an adult, that my child might so easily have the same opportunity. So I want to jump at the chance, for him and for me.

Besides, I work full-time, and delivering my kid to school across town or even up the street would add to an already-hectic day. I have visions of walking my kid to Garrison while I’m still wearing my pajamas. Not likely to happen, but it sure sounds nice. (And had we gotten into any charter schools, the allure of a neighborhood public school might still have trumped those options.)

Second, the principal: I met the previous Garrison principal. It took me about 5 minutes to be sure I would not send my kid to a school under his leadership. When I met the new principal, it took about the same amount of time to decide I felt confident about him. He’s smart, engaged, well-spoken, and aware of the challenges he faces. Oh—and my husband (who, full disclaimer, works for DCPS) knows him. Personal knowledge always helps.

Third: Have I studied the classes or the curriculum closely? No. I went with my gut. I sat in one class as a rainbow-colored group of 3- and 4-year-olds played, wrote, and engaged in what they were doing. Watching the teacher, I was reminded how fun elementary school is, how filled with promise. I didn’t feel like I needed to see much more than that.

Fourth, the parent community, frankly, kicks ass. They found a grant program to rebuild their library. They found an architecture firm to redesign the outdoor space, pro bono. They are the ultimate grassroots organizers.

When Garrison was threatened with closure because enrollment was low, this group of parents rallied to show not only that good things are happening at Garrison now, but that even better things can happen in the future. If enrollment increases, DCPS will have them to thank. Here’s hoping the school system now invests in Garrison, like these parents have.

Now, we’ll see how it goes. Part of what makes us comfortable with this choice is that we’re not wedded to it. As long as our son is happy, safe, and stimulated, we’ll be happy. If we sense that he’s not, it’s back to the drawing board. But we’ve decided not to freight this choice with too much meaning, not to fear that one imperfect year of preschool could ruin him for life.

We’re making a personal choice based on who we want to be as parents and what kind of city we want to live in. I want integrated, stimulating neighborhood schools with no wait lists and no angst. I know enough about DC to know that may never happen. But at least on our block, we can make it happen for our family. At least… for now.

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