“I want to go to school.” Those six words from my then 5-year-old reverberated through my entire being as I weighed everything I know about Pittsburgh’s educational landscape against my desire to raise autonomous daughters. 

I had every intention of homeschooling my girls. My younger sister and brother-in-law homeschool my nieces, and they had just relocated to Pittsburgh. I had dreams of a family co-op, where we educated our four daughters together, co-creating lessons and turning Pittsburgh into our classroom. My child had other plans.

There are no easy answers for Black families when it comes to educating their children. I appreciate the vulnerability Nikole Hannah-Jones demonstrated in her New York Times essay reflecting on the educational choices she made for her daughter — and their aftermath. In a system intentionally designed to exclude and disenfranchise, it feels like the only real choice is the type of educational trauma – academic, social or otherwise – we can live with inflicting upon our children. A quality education should not require sacrifice, but for Black families it almost feels inevitable.

I am no stranger to education — or that offered by Pittsburgh Public Schools (PPS) in particular. I’m a graduate of the district and a former central office employee. I have a doctorate of education from the University of Pittsburgh. 

I come from a family that places a high value on education. My maternal grandmother was a homemaker and mother of seven, who was adamant about her two daughters receiving postsecondary education. “My boys could pick up a trade or go into the military,” she’d say, “but my girls had to go to school.” One of those girls, my mother, was a PPS teacher for 38 years. My paternal grandparents were activists during the Civil Rights Movement in Danville, Virginia. Their fight against segregation landed them and their older children in jail multiple times. My father, their middle child, was strategically spared from the protests to “keep his record clean” for a bigger goal: He was one of the first students in Danville to desegregate the high school. 

A Black student with a mom on the inside

School choice is an especially interesting conversation in Pittsburgh. In a city where Black people make up 22% of the population, our children are nearly 50% of Pittsburgh Public Schools’ student body. Additionally, many of our overwhelmingly white teaching staff live outside the city, a decision that for many is connected to alternative educational options for their own children. 

While I have always taken the stance that families should make the best choice for their children when it comes to schooling, it is not lost on me that the outcomes for PPS students are directly related to these decisions. I’m personally convinced that the prevailing apathy around the performance of PPS, and the clear reality that its shortcomings inhibit our path to becoming a thriving city, is because white students in this city are not overwhelmingly negatively impacted. Outcomes for Black, brown, poor, and disabled students are viewed as inevitable, and a family’s inability to navigate PPS and/or find an alternative is viewed as a personal failure instead of an indictment on the system. 

As an alumnus and district educator, my mother understood the game very well. My education at PPS was carefully curated, guided by her desire for her daughters to have a different experience from hers. She often told the story of a white elementary school teacher who would seat students in the order of the grades they received on their spelling test. Although my mother regularly received the highest grade, the teacher would seat her behind a white student. Her protests and those of other students were dismissed as her teacher refused to recognize a Black student as the top performer. Years later at a district professional development event, my mother ran into this teacher, who realized, much to her chagrin, that she had failed to break the spirit of a young Black girl, but instead motivated her to become a teacher.

I attended Whittier Elementary School, a beautiful building nestled in a corner of Mount Washington. I had some of the most caring and talented educators, including my mother, who was my 4th and 5th grade science teacher. My teachers were intentional about assigning me more challenging work in addition to my weekly visit to the Gifted Center. At Whittier, my love of learning was fortified. 

For middle school, we entered the magnet lottery and I got into Frick International Studies Academy in Oakland. Knoxville, my neighborhood school, was not an option given its performance and my mother’s own experiences. While middle school comes with its share of awkwardness, Frick was special. It felt like the fulfillment of the promise of magnet schools, as students from all over the city converged to learn with and from one another.

I continued on the International Studies path, which led me to Schenley High School, which was referred to as a partial magnet school in Oakland when the stories were positive, and as a Hill District school when they were not. It was almost like five schools in one, and while we all took health, phys ed and music together, the academics were stratified. The prestigious International Baccalaureate (IB) program was on the top floor, while Spartan Classics, a program for neighborhood students, was on the ground floor. I took a full IB course load, I was a color guard in the marching band, I was in the musical and I sang in the chorus. My classmates took our school motto, “enter to learn, go forth to serve,” seriously; many of us have gone on to become successful educators, entrepreneurs, artists and overall well-rounded human beings.

Facing the Future-Ready Plan

I acknowledge my rigorous and engaging education stemmed in part from privilege I had as the child of two college-educated parents identified as “gifted,” with a mother unafraid to expend her social capital navigating the system. But I became angry when I later found myself working in PPS central office, looking at data from perennially failing schools that serve primarily Black and brown students, and understanding for the first time the battle that Black advocates have fought with the district for more than 30 years to improve outcomes for Black students. I personally knew and experienced the best of PPS. Seeing such disparities between schools and students of different races and socioeconomic status showed that my experience was an exception, not the norm. I wanted to contribute to creating a district where students could be successful because of PPS, not in spite of it.

I spent five years working at PPS. There were many hardworking, dedicated educators and administrators committed to improving outcomes for our most marginalized students. Some of the most vocal among them have either left or been pushed out, while others have had their lights dimmed by a culture of fear and complacency.

I was often told what couldn’t be done, or that things had always been done a certain way. There were excuses for why Westinghouse could go a full year without a biology teacher, while the top biology teacher in the state taught down the street at SciTech. I am proud of the work I did to support teachers in leading and designing their own professional development, as they are the ones who know their students best. I was frustrated, though, by our inability to make significant improvements because of constantly changing and competing district priorities with a revolving door of district leadership. 

After I left in 2017 I tried my best to move on to other ventures. I got my master’s degree in public management at CMU and founded an organizational consulting business. I started a family. 

Then the pandemic hit. PPS was woefully unprepared to transition to remote learning, and their leadership and governance issues were on full display. I couldn’t stay quiet. In 2020, I co-founded Black Women for a Better Education (BW4BE), and became the inaugural executive director in 2025. Our mission is to ensure that Black children in the Pittsburgh region receive the high-quality education they need and deserve. One of our first actions was to call for the nonrenewal of the previous superintendent’s contract. When the school board disregarded us, we started a political action committee to replace them. Our PAC has supported the campaigns of 11 school board candidates, eight of whom have been elected to the PPS board of directors, seven of whom currently serve.

I was hopeful for the possibilities to work alongside a school board majority who vowed to be attentive to the needs of the community, unapologetic about Black students, and unafraid to hold district leadership accountable. It was for this reason that despite my initial objections, I was ultimately willing to send my child to PPS. A few of the school board members we endorsed have been there from the beginning as co-founders and supporters of BW4BE promising to do better than their predecessors.

But systems are designed to get the results they do, and not everyone has the insight, courage or fortitude to dismantle them. Instead, we’ve seen our democratically elected school board turn inward, uphold mediocrity and double down on a Future-Ready Plan that many of us (including BW4BE) feel the district is ill-equipped and unprepared to implement well. Like many community members, I feel confused, betrayed and worried about the future of the district.

I had plenty of reservations about sending my child to PPS. It’s certainly not the same district I attended, and I was less than thrilled about what they had to offer.

Like many families, I received the annual letter stating our home school Pittsburgh Morrow was in the bottom 15% of the state and we had the option to apply for the Opportunity Scholarship Tax Credit Program. I considered looking into the program. We applied to several magnet schools in PPS and a local charter school. We likely could have piecemealed our way into a private school if we tried. However, the prospect of homeschooling seemed so exciting and liberating, as it is for many Black families. My sister started sharing curricula and resources with us to prepare, and I was pretty sure our plan was solid. 

But I couldn’t ignore my baby. How could I advocate for other people’s children if I wasn’t willing to listen to mine?

We ultimately landed on Pittsburgh Allegheny K-5. It has been a great fit so far. Right now, school feels magical for my six-year-old. She loves her teachers, she’s excelling, and there is still a light in her eyes when she wakes up every morning. We supplement her education at home, and she is exploring her musical talents through weekly piano lessons at the Afro American Music Institute in Homewood. 

It is hard to know what will come when the PPS Future-Ready Plan is implemented next school year. I’m also thinking about my 4-year-old who will be in kindergarten next year and who is very different from her sister. Ultimately my girls will be okay because they are my children. What keeps me up at night are the children and families who continue to be generationally failed by PPS, and what feels like the insurmountable task of transforming the system.

Thanks to my mother, grandmothers and daughters, I am equipped for the fight. I still believe that I will be the last generation who will have to.

Allyce Pinchback is a PPS alumna, former central office administrator, and parent to a first grader at Pittsburgh Allegheny K-5. An education scholar and activist, she is the co-founder and executive director of Black Women for a Better Education (BW4BE).

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I was a PPS alum preparing to homeschool — but my daughter changed my mind

by First-person essay by Allyce Pinchback, Pittsburgh's Public Source
October 23, 2026

<h1>I was a PPS alum preparing to homeschool — but my daughter changed my mind</h1> <p class="byline">by First-person essay by Allyce Pinchback, Pittsburgh's Public Source <br />October 23, 2026</p> <p>“I want to go to school.” Those six words from my then 5-year-old reverberated through my entire being as I weighed everything I know about Pittsburgh’s educational landscape against my desire to raise autonomous daughters.&nbsp;</p> <p>I had every intention of homeschooling my girls. My younger sister and brother-in-law <a href="https://www.publicsource.org/homeschooling-coops-hybrid-regulation-pennsylvania/">homeschool</a> my nieces, and they had just relocated to Pittsburgh. I had dreams of a family co-op, where we educated our four daughters together, co-creating lessons and turning Pittsburgh into our classroom. My child had other plans.</p> <p>There are no easy answers for Black families when it comes to educating their children. I appreciate the vulnerability Nikole Hannah-Jones <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2026/09/20/magazine/ny-public-schools-black-students-segregation.html">demonstrated in her New York Times essay</a> reflecting on the educational choices she made for her daughter — and their aftermath. In a system intentionally designed to exclude and disenfranchise, it feels like the only real choice is the type of educational trauma – academic, social or otherwise – we can live with inflicting upon our children. A quality education should not require sacrifice, but for Black families it almost feels inevitable.</p> <p>I am no stranger to education — or that offered by Pittsburgh Public Schools (PPS) in particular. I’m a graduate of the district and a former central office employee. I have a doctorate of education from the University of Pittsburgh.&nbsp;</p> <figure class="wp-block-image size-full"><img src="https://www.publicsource.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/10/Allycefirstpersonessay-7.jpg" alt="Hands holding a childhood photo of a girl and a photo of the same person in a graduation cap and gown, labeled “Allyee Pinchback 103”." class="wp-image-1339243" /><figcaption class="wp-element-caption">Allyce Pinchback, of the North Side, holds a photo of herself as an elementary school student alongside her graduation photo outside of the elementary school she attended, Pittsburgh Whittier K-5, on Oct. 15, in Mount Washington. (Photo by Sophia Lucente/Pittsburgh's Public Source)</figcaption></figure> <p>I come from a family that places a high value on education. My maternal grandmother was a homemaker and mother of seven, who was adamant about her two daughters receiving postsecondary education. “My boys could pick up a trade or go into the military,” she’d say, “but my girls had to go to school.” One of those girls, my mother, was a PPS teacher for 38 years. My paternal grandparents were activists during the Civil Rights Movement in Danville, Virginia. Their fight against segregation landed them and their older children in jail multiple times. My father, their middle child, was strategically spared from the protests to “keep his record clean” for a bigger goal: He was one of the first students in Danville to desegregate the high school.&nbsp;</p> <h2 id="h-a-black-student-with-a-mom-on-the-inside" class="wp-block-heading">A Black student with a mom on the inside</h2> <p>School choice is an especially interesting conversation in Pittsburgh. In a city where Black people make up 22% of the population, our children are nearly 50% of Pittsburgh Public Schools’ student body. Additionally, many of <a href="https://www.publicsource.org/pittsburgh-public-schools-pps-salaries-earnings-teachers/">our overwhelmingly white teaching staff live outside the city</a>, a decision that for many is connected to alternative educational options for their own children.&nbsp;</p> <p>While I have always taken the stance that families should make the best choice for their children when it comes to schooling, it is not lost on me that the outcomes for PPS students are directly related to these decisions. I’m personally convinced that the prevailing apathy around the performance of PPS, and the clear reality that its shortcomings inhibit our path to becoming a thriving city, is because white students in this city are not overwhelmingly negatively impacted. Outcomes for Black, brown, poor, and disabled students are viewed as inevitable, and a family’s inability to navigate PPS and/or find an alternative is viewed as a personal failure instead of an indictment on the system.&nbsp;</p> <p>As an alumnus and district educator, my mother understood the game very well. My education at PPS was carefully curated, guided by her desire for her daughters to have a different experience from hers. She often told the story of a white elementary school teacher who would seat students in the order of the grades they received on their spelling test. Although my mother regularly received the highest grade, the teacher would seat her behind a white student. Her protests and those of other students were dismissed as her teacher refused to recognize a Black student as the top performer. Years later at a district professional development event, my mother ran into this teacher, who realized, much to her chagrin, that she had failed to break the spirit of a young Black girl, but instead motivated her to become a teacher.</p> <p>I attended Whittier Elementary School, a beautiful building nestled in a corner of Mount Washington. I had some of the most caring and talented educators, including my mother, who was my 4th and 5th grade science teacher. My teachers were intentional about assigning me more challenging work in addition to my weekly visit to the Gifted Center. At Whittier, my love of learning was fortified.&nbsp;</p> <figure class="wp-block-image size-full"><img src="https://www.publicsource.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/10/Allycefirstpersonessay-5.jpg" alt="A woman with gray braids and glasses looks over her shoulder while holding a red varsity jacket over her arm." class="wp-image-1339245" /><figcaption class="wp-element-caption">Allyce Pinchback holds her Schenley High School Color Guard jacket as she stands outside of Pittsburgh Whittier K-5. (Photo by Sophia Lucente/Pittsburgh's Public Source)</figcaption></figure> <p>For middle school, we entered the magnet lottery and I got into Frick International Studies Academy in Oakland. Knoxville, my neighborhood school, was not an option given its performance and my mother’s own experiences. While middle school comes with its share of awkwardness, Frick was special. It felt like the fulfillment of the promise of magnet schools, as students from all over the city converged to learn with and from one another.</p> <p>I continued on the International Studies path, which led me to Schenley High School, which was referred to as a partial magnet school in Oakland when the stories were positive, and as a Hill District school when they were not. It was almost like five schools in one, and while we all took health, phys ed and music together, the academics were stratified. The prestigious International Baccalaureate (IB) program was on the top floor, while Spartan Classics, a program for neighborhood students, was on the ground floor. I took a full IB course load, I was a color guard in the marching band, I was in the musical and I sang in the chorus. My classmates took our school motto, “enter to learn, go forth to serve,” seriously; many of us have gone on to become successful educators, entrepreneurs, artists and overall well-rounded human beings.</p> <h2 id="h-facing-the-future-ready-plan" class="wp-block-heading">Facing the Future-Ready Plan</h2> <p>I&nbsp;acknowledge my rigorous and engaging education stemmed in part from privilege I had as the child of two college-educated parents identified as “gifted,” with a mother unafraid to expend her social capital navigating the system. But I became angry when I later found myself working in PPS central office, looking at data from perennially failing schools that serve primarily Black and brown students, and understanding for the first time the battle that Black advocates have fought with the district for more than 30 years to <a href="https://www.pghschools.org/departments/equity">improve outcomes for Black students</a>. I personally knew and experienced the best of PPS. Seeing such disparities between schools and students of different races and socioeconomic status showed that my experience was an exception, not the norm. I wanted to contribute to creating a district where students could be successful <em>because of</em> PPS, not <em>in spite of</em> it.</p> <p>I spent five years working at PPS. There were many hardworking, dedicated educators and administrators committed to improving outcomes for our most marginalized students. Some of the most vocal among them have <a href="https://www.pghcitypaper.com/columns/op-ed-former-pittsburgh-public-school-leaders-and-administrators-say-its-time-for-new-leadership-19483689/">either left or been pushed out</a>, while others have had their lights dimmed by a culture of fear and complacency.</p> <p>I was often told what couldn’t be done, or that things had always been done a certain way. There were excuses for why Westinghouse could go a full year without a biology teacher, while the top biology teacher in the state taught down the street at SciTech. I am proud of the work I did to support teachers in leading and designing their own professional development, as they are the ones who know their students best. I was frustrated, though, by our inability to make significant improvements because of constantly changing and competing district priorities with a revolving door of district leadership.&nbsp;</p> <figure class="wp-block-image size-full"><img src="https://www.publicsource.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/10/Allycefirstpersonessay-3.jpg" alt="A person holding two vintage photographs of an older woman and a young man." class="wp-image-1339247" /><figcaption class="wp-element-caption">Allyce Pinchback holds photos of her mother, La’Fay Pinchback, and father, George Pinchback, outside of her elementary school, Pittsburgh Whittier K-5. The photo of her mother was taken when she started working for Pittsburgh Public Schools, while the photo of her father was taken when he was in high school. (Photo by Sophia Lucente/Pittsburgh's Public Source)</figcaption></figure> <div class="wp-block-group alignright is-style-default has-secondary-background-color has-background"> <h3 id="infobox-title" class="wp-block-heading"><em>Editor’s note</em></h3> <p style="font-size:18px"><em>A PPS spokesperson declined to respond to the author’s specific accounts in this essay, but emphasized in a statement “the dedication of the educators, administrators, and staff who serve Pittsburgh Public Schools today.</em></p> <p style="font-size:18px">"<em>Every day, these individuals are taking on the complex and demanding work of transforming a school district, making difficult decisions, challenging longstanding practices, and working to create stronger educational opportunities for students,” the statement said. “That work requires commitment, courage and a willingness to embrace change, and we are proud of the people who continue to lead and contribute to those efforts.</em>"</p> </p></div> <p>After I left in 2017 I tried my best to move on to other ventures. I got my master’s degree in public management at CMU and founded an organizational consulting business. I started a family.&nbsp;</p> <p>Then the pandemic hit. PPS was woefully unprepared to transition to remote learning, and their leadership and governance issues were on full display. I couldn’t stay quiet. In 2020, I co-founded Black Women for a Better Education (BW4BE), and became the inaugural executive director in 2025. Our mission is to ensure that Black children in the Pittsburgh region receive the high-quality education they need and deserve. One of our first actions was to call for the nonrenewal of the previous superintendent’s contract. When the school board disregarded us, we started a political action committee to replace them. Our PAC has supported the campaigns of 11 school board candidates, eight of whom have been elected to the PPS board of directors, seven of whom currently serve.</p> <p>I was hopeful for the possibilities to work alongside a school board majority who vowed to be attentive to the needs of the community, unapologetic about Black students, and unafraid to hold district leadership accountable. It was for this reason that despite my initial objections, I was ultimately willing to send my child to PPS. A few of the school board members we endorsed have been there from the beginning as co-founders and supporters of BW4BE promising to do better than their predecessors.</p> <p>But systems are designed to get the results they do, and not everyone has the insight, courage or fortitude to dismantle them. Instead, we’ve seen our democratically elected school board turn inward, uphold mediocrity and double down on a Future-Ready Plan that many of us (<a href="https://www.publicsource.org/pps-school-closure-vote/">including BW4BE</a>) feel the district is ill-equipped and unprepared to implement well. Like many community members, I feel confused, betrayed and worried about the future of the district.</p> <p>I had plenty of reservations about sending my child to PPS. It’s certainly not the same district I attended, and I was less than thrilled about what they had to offer.</p> <p>Like many families, I received the annual letter stating our home school Pittsburgh Morrow was in the bottom 15% of the state and we had the option to apply for the Opportunity Scholarship Tax Credit Program. I considered looking into the program. We applied to several magnet schools in PPS and a local charter school. We likely could have piecemealed our way into a private school if we tried. However, the prospect of homeschooling seemed so exciting and liberating, as it is for many Black families. My sister started sharing curricula and resources with us to prepare, and I was pretty sure our plan was solid.&nbsp;</p> <figure class="wp-block-image size-full"><img src="https://www.publicsource.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/10/Allycefirstpersonessay-4.jpg" alt="A woman wearing a dark blue t-shirt that says “Black Women for Better Education” sits on outdoor concrete steps in front of a brick building." class="wp-image-1339246" /><figcaption class="wp-element-caption">Allyce Pinchback, of the North Side, sits outside of the elementary school she attended, Pittsburgh Whittier K-5, on Oct. 15, in Mount Washington. (Photo by Sophia Lucente/Pittsburgh's Public Source)</figcaption></figure> <p>But I couldn’t ignore my baby. How could I advocate for other people’s children if I wasn’t willing to listen to mine?</p> <p>We ultimately landed on Pittsburgh Allegheny K-5. It has been a great fit so far. Right now, school feels magical for my six-year-old. She loves her teachers, she’s excelling, and there is still a light in her eyes when she wakes up every morning. We supplement her education at home, and she is exploring her musical talents through weekly piano lessons at the Afro American Music Institute in Homewood.&nbsp;</p> <p>It is hard to know what will come when the PPS Future-Ready Plan is implemented next school year. I’m also thinking about my 4-year-old who will be in kindergarten next year and who is very different from her sister. Ultimately my girls will be okay because they are <em>my children</em>. What keeps me up at night are the children and families who continue to be generationally failed by PPS, and what feels like the insurmountable task of transforming the system.</p> <p>Thanks to my mother, grandmothers and daughters, I am equipped for the fight. I still believe that I will be the last generation who will have to.</p> <p><em>Allyce Pinchback is a PPS alumna, former central office administrator, and parent to a first grader at Pittsburgh Allegheny K-5. An education scholar and activist, she is the co-founder and executive director of <a href="https://www.blackwomen4abettereducation.com">Black Women for a Better Education</a> (BW4BE).</em></p> <p>This &lt;a target=&quot;_blank&quot; href=&quot;https://www.publicsource.org/pittsburgh-public-schools-school-choice-black-families/&quot;&gt;article&lt;/a&gt; first appeared on &lt;a target=&quot;_blank&quot; href=&quot;https://www.publicsource.org&quot;&gt;Pittsburgh&#039;s Public Source&lt;/a&gt; and is republished here under a &lt;a target=&quot;_blank&quot; href=&quot;https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/4.0/&quot;&gt;Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;img src=&quot;https://i0.wp.com/www.publicsource.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/cropped-ps_circle_favicon_blue.png?resize=150%2C150&amp;amp;ssl=1&quot; style=&quot;width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;&quot;&gt;</p> &lt;img id=&quot;republication-tracker-tool-source&quot; src=&quot;https://www.publicsource.org/?republication-pixel=true&amp;post=1339233&amp;amp;ga4=G-CCLXQK5C14&quot; style=&quot;width:1px;height:1px;&quot;&gt;&lt;script&gt; PARSELY = { autotrack: false, onload: function() { PARSELY.beacon.trackPageView({ url: &quot;https://www.publicsource.org/pittsburgh-public-schools-school-choice-black-families/&quot;, urlref: window.location.href }); } } &lt;/script&gt; &lt;script id=&quot;parsely-cfg&quot; src=&quot;//cdn.parsely.com/keys/publicsource.org/p.js&quot;&gt;&lt;/script&gt;

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