I was ecstatic the day my son was accepted to the pre-K program at one of New York City’s most respected private schools. He was 4! He had to be “interviewed” and observed in a classroom setting, as well as take a test called the ERB, which private schools required for admission. I’m surprised they didn’t have him write an essay.
"Little Dalton," where my children were admitted over 20 years ago.
We were middle class, but wanted our kids to go to private school because the majority of Manhattan public schools were pretty dismal. Even the “good” ones in 1984 had overcrowded classes and lacked decent art, music and language programs. We asked Douglas’s parents to help us with the tuition, which was around $5,000.
Today, my son sent me a link to a story about New York City private school tuition topping $40,000! Princeton’s tuition is less, the article reported. And while 60 percent of Princeton students receive need-based financial aid, less than 20 percent of NYC private school students are offered aid.
Besides the insane tuitions, the competition to get into a NYC private school is now fiercer than ever. Some children aren’t accepted to any school, even if their parents are affluent. I don’t know what I’d do if I had young children today. Move to the suburbs, where the schools are better, or stay in Manhattan and send my child to public school? Private school might offer lots of perks—like foreign exchange programs and Mandarin classes—but at what cost?
I asked my son whether he thinks it’s worth it: “Def not,” he answered. (BTW, he left the private school after eighth grade and went to Stuyvesant, a public high school, which he adored.)
Twenty-three Father’s Days have passed since my dad, Sam, died. He was 69. The last time I saw him alive, in a hospital bed in the den of his house, he was drifting in and out of consciousness. When I bent down to kiss him goodbye, he quietly said: “This is hard for Gerilynn” [my real name]. He died of melanoma a few days later, weeks after turning 69. He never got to take it easy, which he richly deserved to do after working so long and hard to support a wife and three daughters. He was in financial distress the last few years of his life, so he couldn’t retire. My sisters and I were not yet in positions to help him as much as we wanted to. That makes all of us sad.
Happy Father’s Day, daddy. I hope you got in a good game of tennis today, listened to Pachelbel and had a great lunch with mommy. We miss you.
Daddy and I
I must have been living under a rock because I just read about an old study that said women who have complete hysterectomies (ovaries removed, too) before age 50, for benign issues, are more likely to develop cardiovascular disease, not to mention lung cancer and incontinence. This wonderful news is especially true for women who didn’t take hormones after their surgery, the study indicated.
I had a total hysterectomy 20 years ago (I was 44) to remove a large uterine fibroid that was causing ridiculously heavy bleeding when I got my period. Two docs advised me to have the surgery. When I asked one of them why I should also have my ovaries removed, he answered, “You’re not having any more children and you don’t want to come back with ovarian cancer.” So I went forward with the operation. I took estrogen, and then worried about getting breast cancer.
So far, my heart is in good shape and my lungs are, too. I do, however, have a somewhat weak urethra, a probable result of the hysterectomy, the doctor said. This can be fixed with surgery. When I told my sisters about the study, one of them emailed me back, “Stop reading medical stuff. I ignore it all.”
Good advice, especially because I can’t put back my uterus and ovaries.
