Elevator Pitches
Practicing the various kinds of explaining I anticipate needing to do over the holidays
Scenario 1: Friends at our annual Yankee Swap ask me to remind them what exactly my dissertation is about. Essentially each possible friend grew up in and now once again lives in one of three neighborhoods in Delco so they know the various public schools in the area.
Bob: So how’s the dissertation going? What is it about again?
Me (swallowing the Chick-fil-a nugget I stuffed quickly into my mouth before pulling Jack away from his attempt to climb the large aquarium at Pete’s house): Well, it’s going! Not as quickly and smoothly as I’d like but you know how that goes… so it’s mostly about schools and neighborhoods and how they impact and relate to one another.
(keep it short and vague at first, as you can never count on extended thoughtful conversation at a party with about 30 adults and nearly as many kids under 7)
Bob: Nice — but, uh, what exactly does that mean?
(in this fantasy scenario, our kids are all minding their own business and we can continue to chat more meaningfully, ideally next to the Chick-fil-a platter)
Me: So it’s really about school choice. In Philly, they have a policy where you can apply to go to any district school so long as it has an open seat available, even if it’s not the school you were assigned…
Bob: Huh, so like we’re assigned to Chestnutwold, but if Haverford Township had this policy then we could sign the kids up at Lynnewood or Chatham Park instead?
Me: Exactly! So running with that hypothetical, why would you enroll the kids in a school other than Chestnutwold? It’s presumably closest to home, feeds into the same middle and high schools as the others, has newer facilities, etc. - is there something about the particular school or the exact location of the other options that’s driving that opting-out of your assigned school?
(I pause to dip the now room-temp chicken nugget into the ever mysterious but ever delicious Chick-fil-a 1sauce)
So in the context of my dissertation, I’m looking to describe the patterns of enrollment throughout the district, trying to understand where kids from Neighborhood A are enrolling and what might be different about the school and/or neighborhood that they’re going to that’s encouraging families to select them over their assigned option.
Bob: That makes sense! Cool!
(My friends are so supportive)
(There is no way even in this imaginary conversation that we would be able to talk long enough to go on to describe the qualitative component of the dissertation…this will be enough for now)
Scenario 2: Chatting with friends from my Cristo Rey days — they, too, have been forever changed (marred? depends on the day) by their time teaching and working at a mission-driven independent start-up high school in Philly — while our kids play at the park.
Flannery: So remind me where you’re at with things in the program…
Me: Finally at the dissertation stage! Everything’s approved so now just gotta…do it.
Jessy: Right, that’s it!!!
Me: Ha yes, exactly. Super simple.
Flannery: So what did you land on? I feel like the last time we chatted you were hovering over some ideas around neighborhoods and schools…
[briefly interrupted by her youngest and my kiddo asking us for more “hops” aka Annie’s Cheddar Bunnies]
Me (brushing cheesy crumbs off my hands before putting my gloves back on): Yes! I’m really happy with how things have turned out because it feels like finally I’ve found a way to bridge my Cristo Rey experiences with my doctoral work. Obviously we had kids coming from across the city —
Dan: don’t forget the Camden kids!
Me: Right! We had a lot of kids from a lot of different parts of the Greater Philadelphia Area.
Dan: Remember the map in the main office? You started that, right, Flann?
(brief trip down memory lane about the early days at 5218 Broad Street, with occasional pauses to cheer on the girls who were practicing elaborate landing poses upon completing their journey down the big kid slide)
Dan: But anyway, back to what you were saying, Lili…
Me: Yeah well we thought a lot about the contexts of our kids, right? Like Troy always had to keep tabs on Septa and anticipate which kids were going to be late because of some actual issue versus which ones were just late and trying to use Septa as an excuse…
Jessy: Or checking in with certain students after a murder occurred in their neighborhood…
Flannery: Or staggering Back to School nights and other events to try to accommodate families’ schedules and travel…
Dan (a bit sheepishly): Or when I asked you to change the schedule so that the twins weren’t missing AP Calc twice a week because their hour+ commute was constantly interfering with their first period attendance…
Me: Oh my goodness (barking out a laugh) YES I forgot about that!
(intermission for me and Dan to reminisce about the incredibly satisfying chaos of solving the puzzle that was creating the school schedule each year while Jessy and Flann task their eldests with pushing the littlest kiddos on the swings)
Me: So basically, I know from my own experience, and from social science research broadly, that the residential contexts of students matters for a whole host of reasons and in a whole host of ways. But Cristo Rey isn’t a neighborhood school — since our inception we were designed to serve a diverse community of students. But what happens when school choice policies in a public school district create scenarios where traditional neighborhood public schools no longer mostly serve the neighborhood? So I’m interviewing teachers, staff, and administrators at elementary schools in Philly who serve majority non-neighborhood families about their experiences at work, their perceptions of students’ neighborhoods versus the school’s neighborhood, etc.
Flannery: Ooh I have so many questions I’d love to hear the answers to from them…
(at least one kiddo is crying, and Jack is pouring sandbox sand over his head, so Flann’s insights will have to wait)
Scenario 3: Visiting my elementary school with Jack to watch the Pre-K and Kindergarten Christmas concert and seeing countless people who have either known me for decades or hear about me and my family on a regular basis from my mom (who works there).
Former Teacher 1: Oh my goodness LILI look how big Jack is! Hi sweetie!
Parent who I don’t know but clearly knows of me and my son: Oh your Grammy shows us pictures all the time! But you’re even bigger in person!!
Former Teacher 2: Oh HI cutie!!
(more of these comments from other parents and teachers passing us in the back of the gym, all talking over each other and saying the same thing in slightly different ways)
Mrs. D: Oh Lil, so glad you could come back early for the holidays. You know your mom misses you guys so much…
Me: Oh I know - we’re happy to be here! Plus I’m hoping to do some interviews in the city next week once she’s out for break and can be on Grammy daycare duty…
Mrs. D: OMG INTERVIEWS?!?!?! Are you getting a job??? Does this mean you’re moving back?? Why didn’t your mom say anything?!!
Me (realizing I let the train go down the wrong track): Oh no no no, sorry, not a job! Ha maybe one day, hopefully! But interviews like in research interviews (see her staring somehow both disappointedly and blankly)…for my dissertation…(still staring, still in the same way)…I’m talking to teachers and principals about…
Mrs. D (interrupting): Oh you’ll be so good at that! You and that husband of yours - so smart. Here you are getting your doctorate, and he’s an actual rocket scientist2?! Jack is clearly taking after you both! (she says as he is spinning in circles so fast that gets too dizzy, knocks against the padded wall, then tries to repeat his “dance” moves). Well we will pray that once the dissertation is done you’ll be coming home - oh shoot that’s the door I have to answer it. Say goodbye before you leave!
Me (calling back as she hurries down the corridor, with a nostalgic sigh because nothing changes around here): Yep, will do!
Scenario 4: Sitting with my mom after Jack has gone to sleep on Christmas Day and she’s enjoying a glass of Chardonnay and some of Grandma’s crescent cookies that I made for her.
Mom: I just hope this work you’re doing means someone at Penn or Temple hires you so you can FINALLY come home. They have to find value in someone so invested in their city right??? Or even Villanova has to see it would be good to have someone like you on staff!
Me (taking a deep breath and reminding myself she says this out of love and right now is not the time to try to explain once again that unfortunately that’s not how academic jobs work): I mean, we can only hope.
No, this post is not sponsored by Chick-fil-a, nor is my enjoyment of their chicken when offered to me at a party an endorsement of their business or politics.
He is not.