Private Versus Public – Different Advantages

The world of private school is a very unusual world. I’m not talking about Gossip Girl-style antics with rich kids running around in limos with no parental supervision getting drunk and blowing cocaine—although to be honest there was some semblance of that as well. My experience in private school was very unique; I started my educational career at a small private school in a small, rich town in rural Virginia, then left after second grade and attended a bevy of public schools, only to return to the same private school in seventh grade. I experienced life on the inside, but always felt like an outsider.

From Kindergarten on, there were about twenty-five kids in my class at my rich private school in beautiful Middleburg, Virginia. Middleburg is horse-country, full of exquisite farms and old houses, and a blatant rift between upper and lower class. The middle class was essentially non-existent; it pretty much consisted of me and a handful of other families.

Grades K–2 weren’t much different at private school then what I imagine at other schools. There were the requisite nap times, recess, snacks, and reading groups. I adored my teachers and felt very at home. I had a lot of friends and I loved school. My world was pretty perfect.

It all ended rather abruptly.

My father spent all of my family’s money building his dream house, or what I like to refer to as, The House of Doom. We had no money left over and since my older brother was in high school and couldn’t be asked to readjust, the burden of switching schools fell upon me. I began third grade at Middleburg Elementary, and it was a complete shock to my seven-year-old system.

As horrible as it sounds, I had never known anything but rich, white children. For some reason, it had never occurred to me that I wasn’t white, that I was different than my private school friends. I so associated with them that when I entered my public school, the prejudices and judgments were already burned into my psyche. I felt uncomfortable around black kids. I did not like the overweight children in my class who had ugly clothes. I had a sense of elitism that was unbelievable for a child my age. I thought my classroom was dingy and everything around me seemed dirty. I suppose on some level I knew this way of thinking was wrong because I kept these thoughts to myself like a shameful secret.