At some point, we tacitly consented to the notion that providing only 20 percent of the children in Harlem, those that win the lottery and go to charter schools, with adequate teachers, equipment and food, is a morally acceptable public policy.
When I come home and announce that they're lighting lanterns at Madiba for Mandela, she jumps up and asks if it's his birthday again. I explain that this time they're not celebrating the beginning of his life but the end of it.
Two schools, two ideologies, a relatively common mission co-locating within the same building. Co-locating, co-existing, though not cooperating. Not even throwing their lunch trash in the same bins within the same room. One entity will certainly survive with its identity intact.