Selecting a high school is a moral decision

The morally confusing (and intellectually deficient) state of California public schools

Over the last couple months, my 8th grader has been lobbying to attend the public high school by our house. He’s a very social teenager who loves camaraderie, intimacy and shared experiences. He thrives on group dynamics and therefore is drawn to a bigger platform like the school with 2,000 students vs the 200 students in the private Christian school he’s slated to attend.

Recently, he presented me with a comparative grid of the positives and negatives of both schools. Social activities and strong athletic programs were big pluses for him. The list was thorough, and the very act of framing his argument this way demonstrated sincere initiative. Simply telling him, “I want a Christian foundation and good academics for you, and ultimately it’s my decision anyway,” would dismiss his effort.

I had been praying about this decision for some time, and proactively trying to make my own comparisons. As it turns out, the difference between the golf divisions isn’t all that meaningful, particularly since college recruiters rarely place much importance on high school golf performance. I even called the school for a visit and meeting, and when they didn’t return my call, this underscored the lack of attention families get from public schools. I had given both these reasons among others to my son, but they were, admittedly, surface level.

Ultimately, it was only fair to be sincere in my reflection. What kind of parent would I be if I couldn’t give an honest, articulated and well thought-out argument to defend my choices for him (especially, given his role as middle school debate club president, and mine as the supervisor and instructor)?

After reviewing his comparative list, I did more homework. I explored the school website and the “early college” program, a rigorous academic option available if he attended the public school. I also reviewed School Board meeting minutes to understand the school’s priorities. It was very telling. On the first page of the minutes, there was a land acknowledgment of the Patwin tribes. I learned that acknowledgments were also included on every class syllabus.

This raised the question: Why require land acknowledgements? I’m not one to quibble over them. If someone wants to place one on their website or say before a speech, fine. It’s like the Lilliputians arguing over whether to break their eggs on the small end or the large end. It doesn’t matter, just don’t force one side. But making these acknowledgements a mandatory philosophical position is akin to mandating which side of the egg is morally correct to break.

I want to be clear: while a voluntary acknowledgment is harmless — a small gesture of gratitude — the fact that it is institutionally mandated elevates it into a philosophical statement. It implies a moral framework: that colonization was a defining sin for which current generations, particularly descendants of settlers, must continually atone.

Adolescents have enough struggles as they attempt to justify their existence and find purpose in life; adding an imposed moral obligation to atone for past sins now brings with it a weighty unnecessary burden to carry.

A moral authority problem

There is also a conceptual “moral authority” problem to these acknowledgments. It frames the Patwin as morally blameless and settlers as morally tainted, suggesting that privilege and societal advantage are inherently sinful. Possessing privilege or advantage is not, in itself, a moral failing, any more than lacking advantage confers a moral claim on the said privileged.

I discussed this with my son who initially expressed sympathy for the Indian tribes. He was probably trying to minimize the implications of such a ritual. “It doesn’t hurt anyone.” “What’s wrong with paying respects and being grateful?” “What’s the big deal?”

To answer this, these symbolic acts may seem innocuous at first, but they have downstream effects on the way kids understand morality. The philosophy becomes part of the atmosphere of the school—something students absorb almost unconsciously as they move through the halls. They become unknowingly conditioned to accept the view of intrinsic guilt and virtue simply through identity. At that point, one’s identity or opinion becomes a moral proxy. This is the same view that undergirds the social justice movement that defines morality by the collective, not by the individual. But morality isn’t mediated that way. It’s mediated through our family, friends, communities, churches, employers, and yes schools - places where people know us and can judge us for our actions.

We should understand this reality as we reckon with our past through virtue signals that overlook the messiness and complexities of history. No one is blameless and purely peaceful.

Northern California consisted of multiple tribes that interacted, traded, and at times fought among themselves. In many cases, there were atrocities committed that were likely more brutal and ruthless than we could even stomach today. There was no morally perfect tribe, just as settlers were not universally sinful. How does one group, therefore, have moral authority over another? I asked him. He understood: “They don’t,” he answered.

Additionally, if we are to give thanks for stewardship, why not also recognize the Spaniards or Mexicans, who preceded Americans in colonizing California? Spanish missions were established in the early 1800s, decades before American expansion.

To ignore this is to simplify history into a selective moral narrative rather than to understand it.

Tip of the iceberg

The presence of a land acknowledgment also hints at a deeper ideological framework — a moral hierarchy based on identity rather than action. In California, for instance, those labeled as “climate change deniers” often occupy a morally inferior position. After Assembly Bill 873, which was intended to help students identify misinformation, one educator celebrated the prospect of students debunking “climate change denial” and other conspiracies. The implication, again, is that moral judgment is mediated through labels and group identity, rather than character. If our actions that reveal our character don’t matter, then how do we teach kids accountability?

I experienced a related dynamic firsthand. I was invited to speak on a panel titled “Engaging in democracy” at a Bay Area high school. The program was structured with four left-of-center speakers and myself representing the right. As the event approached, I was disinvited due to a change in the “makeup” of the panel, which could only mean the organizers decided to have five left-leaning speakers. In effect, their version of democracy was designed to create an echo chamber, insulating their moral hierarchy from challenge. If adults aren’t allowed to dialogue with people they disagree with to form consensus or derive some truth, what are we modeling for students?

California schools also have a very distorted view of gender. I can’t get my mind past this. The Supreme Court had to weigh in, thankfully, to block a California law that would ban schools from telling parents if their child identifies as transgender. Imagine, a young child going to a counselor with confusion and despair about their identity; and the counselor doesn’t share this dire and life-threatening information with parents.

Nearly half of kids suffering with this identity disorder suffer from suicide ideation vs 15% of the general youth population. One in four kids who suffer from gender identity disorder attempt to commit suicide vs 5% of the general youth population. Moreover, about three in four of these kids suffer from persistent depression.

Despite these signs, California lawmakers don’t think parents need to be alerted to help their children, you know - get better or seek help. Yet according to California Education Code 49423, schools must have a written permission from a parent before a kid can take aspirin.

With this kind of perverse, upside-down logic, how is a child supposed to develop a coherent moral compass? If education is built on a foundation of falsehoods, then the stakes are enormous—not just for knowledge, but for character. And that’s before you even consider laws compelling teachers to affirm every student’s preferred pronoun, regardless of their own understanding of reality. When you combine that with the fact that California public high schools rank significantly below other states academically, you’re asking children to navigate a world that is both morally confusing and intellectually deficient.

Final thoughts…

For the next four years, my son will spend about 20% of his time at school in a given year. That’s a lot!

My greatest hope is that he leaves high school as a young man who stands firmly in integrity, carries the weight of responsibility without complaint, meets life’s challenges with resilience, honors truth and others with steadfast courage, and walks with a guiding love for Christ as his foundation. These virtues are rooted in objective moral truths, not in selective narratives or moral relativism.

Choosing a school, therefore, is never just an academic, athletic, or social decision. It is bigger. It is a decision about the moral and intellectual environment in which a young person will form their character.

The decision is a moral one.

(Image source: NBCbayarea)