In most American cities, when someone asks, “What school did you go to?” they mean college. In Baltimore, they mean high school, and the answer still matters decades later.
That’s not a quirk of local pride, it’s a reflection of something real. In this city, the high school you attend doesn’t just shape your adolescence — it shapes your network, your career trajectory, your sense of self, and the community you belong to for the rest of your life. It’s time Baltimore treated it that way.
I’ve been sitting with this truth as my eldest daughter, an eighth grader with a creative streak and a growing interest in becoming a barber, navigates the School Choice application process. The deadline was earlier this year in January. Results came in late February. Since then, we’ve made a decision that will follow her far longer than four years.
Baltimore’s School Choice system gives students the ability to apply to any high school in the city, not just their assigned neighborhood school. On its face, it’s a democratic idea: every kid deserves a shot at the program that fits them best. But what’s rarely said plainly is how much weight that choice carries, or how uneven the process of making it can be.
On its face, it’s a democratic idea: every kid deserves a shot at the program that fits them best. But what’s rarely said plainly is how much weight that choice carries, or how uneven the process of making it can be.
Consider what’s at stake beyond a building and a bus route. In Baltimore, high schools are identities. Alumni of Baltimore School for the Arts or Digital Harbor High School don’t just remember their schools fondly, they wear them. Knights from Baltimore City College announce themselves as such. Poets of Paul Laurence Dunbar High do the same. A high school in this city is closer to a society than a grade level. It confers belonging, vocabulary, community, and connection in ways that compound over time.
I’ve seen this firsthand everywhere I’ve worked, from coworking spaces to emergency rooms to universities. The question of where someone went to school surfaces constantly, and it carries weight whether they graduated last year or 20 years ago. The people healing and educating Baltimore’s residents are disproportionately products of City Schools, and they carry those identities with them.
Beyond identity, the practical stakes are significant.
Most Baltimore high schools offer Career and Technical Education programs, four-course sequences in fields ranging from health and biosciences to cosmetology to information technology, that can lead to industry-recognized certifications before graduation. For a teenager who knows she wants to work with her hands, choosing the right CTE program isn’t just an extracurricular preference, it’s a head start on a career, a credential, a competitive edge in college applications and the job market.
My daughter’s current school serves middle schoolers well. It has offered her mindful moments as an alternative to disciplinary measures and space to explore graphic design, fashion, and architecture. But as she looks toward high school, the question of fit becomes more urgent. The wrong environment doesn’t just mean a less enjoyable four years. It can mean four years without the CTE sequence that would set her apart, without the peer community that would sustain her, without the identity that would anchor her.
None of this is simple. The application itself is deceptively short: name, birth certificate (which always takes a search), proof of address. But the research behind that application is anything but short. Families who know how to navigate this city, who have older children or well-connected networks, have a real advantage. Those who don’t can easily miss programs that would have been a perfect fit or apply to schools without understanding what they’re actually choosing.
That gap between what this choice can mean and how much support families receive in making it is the real conversation Baltimore should be having.
It might be worthwhile to create more transparency into what a school’s community might be like for incoming freshmen through things like content on the City Schools site and social media.
Mandatory shadow days could create visibility into what CTE pathways might be best for young scholars in Baltimore City. At schools like Mergenthaler Vocational-Technical High School, you choose a pathway going into 10th grade and there’s a whole ceremony for it. What if select students attended events like that, to not only get excited but better acquainted?
As Baltimore City grows and welcomes transplants or adults from surrounding counties, every parent may not have the experience as an alumni of a city school to pass down oral histories about how it might be in the hallways. For parents, the constant search for important papers can be taxing. But the birth certificate you need for pre-K is the same one you need for middle and high school, so some continuity of care around important documents, vaccination history, or even students grades would be extremely helpful to parents and guardians who are already navigating a lot in supporting such a big choice. The same paperwork is used for opportunities like YouthWorks, and having a connected system or way to stay with students from pre-K through high school would be worth exploring. No one wants to feel like a stranger to a system they’ve been a part of their whole lives.
The city has built something worth protecting in its School Choice system. Specialized programs, CTE pathways, alternative discipline models — these are genuine investments in young people. But a system that gives families the power to choose without giving them the knowledge and support to choose well isn’t fully delivering on its promise.
Specialized programs, CTE pathways, alternative discipline models — these are genuine investments in young people. But a system that gives families the power to choose without giving them the knowledge and support to choose well isn’t fully delivering on its promise.
Earlier this year, my daughter narrowed her options to five schools with programs that resonate with her. We submitted our application and waited until late February, along with thousands of other families, to find out if the lottery worked in our favor. We know where she’s headed now, and we’ll keep that to ourselves. But whatever the outcome had been, I wanted her to know we took this seriously because in Baltimore this decision has an outsized impact on her future.
Where you go to high school here isn’t just a chapter. For better or worse, it’s part of the story you tell about yourself for the rest of your life. That’s a lot of weight in a choice made at 14. And it’s exactly why Baltimore should do more to make sure every family is equipped to make it.
The post OP-ED: In Baltimore, where you go to high school is a life-changing decision appeared first on Baltimore Beat.
