I met a friend for coffee yesterday. Now that our kids are back in school (sort of — can we talk about the noon releases for preschool? WTF?), we had some time to catch up. I’m writing this with her permission.
Also, I’m horrified. And I sort of hope you are, too.
Here’s the story: her son receives financial aid at a school where full tuition costs more than all four years of my college. She chose that school for all the right reasons: her preschool had strongly recommended it, because her son thrives in a more hands on environment, and they said they worried a large class size and high student to teacher ratio might cause him to slip under the cracks. Her husband and her worked hard to make it happen, and qualified for a small amount of financial aid. Think: paying three years of college each year instead of all four.
And last year, this now eleven year old, who we will call Luke for this story, encountered his first bully. Now this isn’t the kind of boy bully of my day, where after school fights would break out and teachers would call parents. No, kids these days fight, for lack of better words, like little witches (I’m still uncertain if Substack penalizes from the occasional curse word, clearly).
Perhaps he assumed, based on something I’m not familiar with — like not having a new shoe for every day of the week, or a lack of name brand t-shirts — or maybe someone told him (though schools allegedly keep financial aid recipients top secret), but this bully found out Luke received financial aid.
He came home upset because apparently, when this bully saw he received a higher test score than him, told Luke it didn’t matter.
“Oh well. You’ll probably work for me one day anyway,” he said.
I’m told Luke shook it off. He chalked it up to mean kids are going to be mean (there’s that SEL curriculum at work folks). But my friend, his mother, was horrified.
I asked what she did. And she told me she didn’t know what to do. So she looked in the directory to call the boy’s mother. She had no intention of being rude, but she thought given both kids are still so young, there was still hope in perhaps turning an enemy into a friend. Or at the very least, getting his mom on the same page that raising assholes in 2026 is a bad look.
Did she get a hold of the mom? Of course she didn’t. The number listed was the mom’s assistant. When asked if she could speak to the mom directly, the assistant kindly told her that she would relay the message.
We aren’t sure if she did. But we do know a week later my friend followed up and got a full mailbox.
No one called her back.
You can pay fifty thousand dollars a year for your kid to sit next to a family whose whole household runs on people whose job is making sure you never have to talk to them directly. We wondered (commiserated) together if her son felt the same way.
My kids are younger. I’ve told myself we have time before any of this reaches them. But we don’t. Not really. I’ve watched a four year old brag about his Golden Goose sneakers, and a five year old girl told another that her backpack looked “cheap.” The reality is: the kids have been noticing this way longer than we want to admit. They know who in carpool has a Tesla and who doesn’t. They know who has more than one house.
It’s not mean. These small kids aren’t talking about it to be rude. It’s research.
So sure. Financial aid is supposed to be private, but it’s not really. But that’s not the problem. It’s not the problem in the same way that that kid’s line wasn’t clever. It’s just not something an 11-year-old kid would say. The problem is this behavior is learned. It’s a legacy in the same way their Harvard Westlake acceptances are. And was it said flippantly by a mom who’s had one glass of wine too many, as a joke? That part doesn’t matter. You’re handing a kid ammunition before he's old enough to realize the damage it can cause.
“I just want him to know it’s not true.” That’s what my friend told me. But also because it’s a terrifying thought. Because her son is smart and kind and already learning how to smile through things that don’t warrant a smile. The boy who said it might actually acquire a business one day. Her son will work for what he has. That’s not because her son is less deserving. That’s just the reality.
She emailed the school. They got a “restorative conversation” scheduled two weeks later, attended by her and not the other mom. The school says her kid is thriving. And said they’d touch base with the other family.
Will they? Probably not. But they’ll tell the assistant.