Earlier this spring, I committed an act of faith—I offered the universe a sign that I believe in Philadelphia, that this city will not allow itself to become a Detroit Redux, that ultimately our leaders will do what they must to ensure we don’t become an utter disaster.
I enrolled my son in kindergarten. At a public school. In Philadelphia.
Now, granted, that school was Greenfield School, which this magazine not so long ago declared to be one of Philadelphia’s great schools—largely because of parents who have been able to raise, at times, hundreds of thousands of dollars for projects to keep the school in good repair and offering a good education. So the risk is somewhat mitigated: We’re drafting off our, ahem, more well-to-do neighbors to provide our son with a decent education—knowing we can’t afford one of the city’s great private schools, and hoping against hope we won’t have to move to the suburbs. We like city life.