Growing up, my mother feared that sending me to my zoned public school, an underperforming and under-resourced elementary school, would hinder my ability to obtain a quality education.  

As a result, she sent me to a small, primarily low-income, African American Catholic school on the other side of Baltimore City, hoping it would offer me a chance for better educational opportunities. Unfortunately, though, her wishes for me were cut short, right in the middle of third grade, only my second year there. Due to financial hardships in the archdiocese, my school, along with a set of other Catholic schools serving predominantly low-income populations, were set to close at the end of that academic year.  

However, I got lucky. My school’s administration recruited donors to fund three students with the highest state standardized test scores and grades in the school. I was one of them. This simple game of luck changed my life.  

With the scholarship funds of an anonymous donor, I was able to attend a much wealthier Catholic school in Baltimore City. From the start of my fourth-grade year until the end of middle school, I was able to flourish academically and fully excel.  

Upon application season for high school though, the same issue reared its ugly head. A lack of funds served as a reminder that a quality education was not necessarily within my reach. Due to the willful determination of my mother, as she worked two jobs, along with scholarships and financial aid, luckily, again, I was able to attend a local Catholic high school.  

There, I was once again able to flourish inside and outside the classroom. I secured a spot in a fellowship that included a trip to Israel, took advanced placement classes, and graduated as valedictorian. My educational background enabled me to graduate with a chemistry degree from Williams College and pursue a master’s degree at the University of Oxford.  

I want to return to that moment though, when I received the aforementioned scholarship at the end of my third-grade year. Despite the fact that I, and three of my peers, were given the opportunity to go to well-resourced elementary and middle schools, the majority of our peers did not. They were, what I like to call, unlucky. 

 Because of financial constraints, the majority of my peers ended up returning to their zoned public schools at the start of the next academic year–the same schools their parents dutifully fought to keep them from attending. And this is why I was, what I like to call, lucky. With another roll of the dice, I could have been one of those kids–they could have been me.  

Moreover, it underscores the reason why I support school choice. I firmly believe that children’s educational opportunities should not be determined by the income, means, or background of themselves or their parents, but by their own intrinsic and inherent right to a quality education. From the deepest part of my heart and soul, I believe that education for every child should be a matter of right and not a game of luck.