They’re a pretty good option for those parents living in an area where they do not trust the local district and cannot afford private school for their kids.

What has always amazed me about charter schools in New Jersey, though, is how they are placed so far behind the starting line and yet still achieve the success that they achieve. Alexis King, the founder and lead person of Hope Academy Charter School in Asbury Park, puts it best in a recent op-ed:

The original New Jersey law called for charter public schools to receive 90 percent of funding for each child in a traditional district school. This has not happened across the board. Statewide in New Jersey’s 62 charter public schools, children are funded on average at 78 percent and in some schools as low as 65 percent of district school funding.

But for Hope Academy, where we teach children in kindergarten through eighth grade, the state has reduced funding in the proposed state budget from about $14,000 per child this year to less than $12,000, even though it provides nearly $26,000 per child in Asbury Park’s district schools. So for us the ratio is now less than 50 percent and barely half of what the original charter school law says our children should have.

There are a few different things going on here. First, I’d prefer to leave the conversation about whether or not more money should be spent on urban students than suburban students. To a large degree, I think the answer is clearly “no,” but such a simplistic response doesn’t take into account all of the complexities of the current school funding formula.

Second, and more importantly and germane to this conversation, is the fact that a quality school like Hope Academy is getting their funding cut to such a dramatic degree. Unreal. It’s hard to imagine that this is allowed to take place in a state that is so liberal that it’s supreme court has suggested that each student has a right to an equal education (where is that in the Constitution again?). For such a progressive state, this is shocking.

This conversation, though, will likely be overshadowed by the fact that the entire school funding formula has been the focus of debate. Personally, I think the entire school funding formula needs radical change from the bottom up.

I suppose we all go through the same shit, I guess. I’ve concluded that my life doesn’t evolve. It’s on spin cycle, moving slowly in the same exact circle since I was 14 years old. They say that when you go to college, everything changes. It’s a time of personal growth physically, mentally, and emotionally. In theory, you go to college and bury your face in some books, some legs, and some bottles of beer and you emerge an enlightened, refined individual. You meet new people, you learn new ideas, you do different things, and I guess that’s all true. Here I am though, having the same problems, the same conversations with the same people. It’s like those past four years have now been blacked out, they didn’t happen. The only trace of this personal growth is the incessant bitching and whining about how nothing will ever be that good ever again. That this is it. We’re fucked.

Really, that’s all I have to say. Perhaps this frustration, confusion, and sense of overwhelming uncertainty sounds familiar to you. If it does, then the rest of this is for you. Perhaps the following situation is remotely familiar to you (actual translation is in parentheses).

Me: “Oh wow, hey man, I haven’t seen you in awhile. How’ve you been?” (Jesus christ, I remember this fucking loser)
You: “Oh, I’m good, bro. I’m just over at the Thompson’s working at the bar.” (Jesus christ, I didn’t want him to see me, but I work at Thompson’s, I’m so cool.)
Me: “Great man, that’s very cool. I will see you around.” (This kid is actually proud of that. What an idiot.)
You: “Sounds good, bro.” (He thought he was a big shot, but now he is 100k in debt and hanging out in the places I’ve been at all along. Idiot.”

And see, the problem is, this stupid motherfucker is right. He’s totally right and we both know it. Here I am, here my friends are with our fancy college degrees and we are right back with all of these idiots in the same exact place. I know I’m better than these people, and time will eventually reveal this, or so I’m taught to believe. But right now, tonight, there is no substantial proof of my superiority over this idiot that is proud of working at Thompson’s. And depression sets in.