Like many of you, my group chats and my timelines have been inundated with commentary about Nikole Hannah-Jones's latest New York Times article, “In Fighting for Every Black Child, Did I Betray My Own?” I read it more than once, and I suspect many of you did too.

So much of Nikole's experience mirrored mine. A system that's taken equity to mean the lowering of standards rather than believing our students can rise to the occasion. A system that will say if one family can't do homework, then no family has to do homework. A system that tells parents, of course you can be involved in your child's education, but only where I tell you, and stay in your lane.

As she mentioned, I was one of those parents who read her 2016 article, “Choosing a School for My Daughter in a Segregated City.” Back then I was a new mother with my brilliant 1 year old, and I was reading everything my hands could land on. This article was one that stuck. It resonated with me. I wanted to be the kind of parent who invests back in the public school system. I did not want to take my resources and take them away. I would come back to that article often, inwardly debate it, challenge myself with it, and ultimately use it to make my decision.

Fast forward ten years. I am running for the Montgomery County Board of Education, District 5…and I'm pulling my son out of MCPS to attend a private school.

Let me start with why I believe in public education. I am a product of the public school system. When it's done right, I know what it can do, because I lived it.

I am a proud graduate of Springbrook High School. My school was a Center for Excellence. Walking into high school, we saw on the walls the national and regional awards that made us stand out as one of the best. We knew that we were a part of greatness. We had great administration, led by THE Michael Durso, who ran the school with an iron fist wrapped in love. We had great teachers who knew our names, our parents, and our potential. We were truly a community. From the jump, my friends and I were in honors classes, and we went on to AP. Some even did IB! As student athletes, we were students first, with mandatory study hall after school and one on one time with our teachers when we needed it. Lunches, when needed, were spent in their classrooms making sure our studies were on track.

The bar was set high for us, and we not only met it, we exceeded it.

That is what public education can be when it is done right. It breeds excellence. I know, because it bred me.

I am also the mother of a Black boy in America.

My son is smart. He's outgoing. He's gregarious. He loves to learn and picks things up quickly. Of course, I'm his mom, so I think he's going to change the world. Still, I've seen that the world doesn't always see him that way.

We didn't qualify for free pre K in Montgomery County, so I sent him to private school for Pre-K 3 and Pre-K 4. At 3, he tested into the 5 year old class. He could read and do math right alongside them, but he was still a 3 year old expected to be on the emotional level of a 5 year old. It was not unusual for me to come pick him up and find him sitting off to the side in time out yet again. After meeting after meeting, and sharing article after article on unconscious bias toward Black boys and the overpunishment of Black children, I reluctantly moved him to a new school for Pre-K 4.

Then COVID hit. Looking at the cost of two kids in private school, I made the decision to trust the very MCPS that had shaped me. I quickly saw that the Montgomery County education I'd experienced was not the same one my children met. When my son entered kindergarten, he tested in the 98th percentile. Within one year, he dropped to the 80s. The following year, the 70s. Every year, that number has gone down.

As we were making our decision for middle school, I was presented with a unique opportunity: an all boys school, predominantly minority, for high achieving young men. A school that challenges them and does not lower the bar. As a single mother, I also found an environment with men who are committed to nurturing these young boys. My son applied, interviewed with confidence, and got in!

So yes. As I am running for the Board of Education, I am also pulling my son out and putting him in that school.

I can believe in public school. I do believe in public school. I am ready to fight for public school. At the end of the day, though, I am his mother. In making that decision, I had to do what's right for my child. That is what every parent has to do.

If you are a parent sitting with this decision right now, hear me clearly. I am not telling you what to do. We don't make these choices for our values. We make them for our children, and that will look different for each of us. Another family, in their environment, may choose the opposite of what I chose and be just as right.

I love my community. I believe in my community, because I am a product of my community. At the same time, I am clear eyed about the facts. We have a tale of two counties here.

Too often, the best schools are concentrated in areas of wealth. Where the wealth isn't there, it's the communities that are most organized, with a strong PTA and parents who have the time and the know how to show up, that are able to push for stronger outcomes. I've seen it firsthand. As a PTA president, I watched what happens when strong partners come together to fundraise and advocate for our schools.

So what does that mean for a district like mine? District 5 is heavily immigrant. Many of our parents and students, like me, are first generation. I know that story, because it's mine. My father was a Liberian immigrant who believed education was the one thing no one could ever take from you, and he showed up at my school so often that my teachers knew exactly who to call.

Not every parent has that option. Many of our parents are working two jobs. Some are still learning English. Many are navigating a system with unwritten rules no one ever explained to them.

When a child's outcomes depend on a parent's zip code, work schedule, or ability to navigate the system, our minority and immigrant children pay the price first. Those are the children in our district. I was one of them. In the end, our whole community pays it too.

That means the way we engage our families has to change. If we truly want them as strategic partners, we have to learn how to meet them where they are and speak to them in ways that reach them. One thing for sure, two things for certain: our families care just as much about their children's outcomes as any other community. The question is how the system engages them and addresses their needs. If we don't show up, how will the system ever change to reflect our needs?

Like Nikole, I believe we can't abandon the system. We each bring what we can to improve our schools.

Our work is to close that gap and let our schools live up to the standard I once knew. That means I will be fighting for a system my own son is no longer a part of. I am doing it anyway. These are still our children, this is still our community, and this fight belongs to all of us.

So here is my ask. Don't just trust the system. Show up for it. Parents, get in the building: know your child's teachers, join your PTA, and ask the hard questions. Students, lock in, demand better, and tell us what needs to change. Neighbors, about half of our county's operating budget goes to our schools, so you have every right to expect excellence from them. On November 3rd, vote like our children's futures depend on it, because they do.

So am I a hypocrite? No. I'm a mother, a community advocate, and your next District 5 Board of Education member. Am I saddened by the state of our public schools? Absolutely. As a product of Montgomery County schools, though, I know what they can be, what they should be, and what they will be if we each play our role.

Love and legacy, Elma-Lorraine