At this point in his long and varied career in public education, Mr. Nathan is beginning to doubt some of his previous stances about the principles under which public schools should operate. He remains, however, a staunch supporter of public charter schools. THREE VERY specific questions for advocates of public education came to my mind as I read Frederick Hess' argument that we need to reappraise our assumptions as to what constitutes 'public schooling.' Let me pose them to Kappan readers, who no doubt are advocates for public education. What is public about a suburban district in which the price of admission to the local public schools is the ability to purchase a home for more than one million dollars (and to pay tax-deductible property taxes on that home)? What is public about an inner-city school with an admissions test that screens out all students with mental disabilities and more than 95% of the students in the surrounding district and so proclaims that it serves only the cream of the crop? What is public about preventing some inner-city students from attending a magnet school just a few blocks from their homes that receives $1,500 per pupil more than the neighborhood school they attend? At the same time, in the name of integration, white students from wealthy suburbs are transported to this school -- some via taxi. These three questions form the basis for two larger questions that continue to trouble me even after being involved with public education for 33 years. I don't have definitive answers to these larger questions. But I share them with readers in the hope that they, too, will find them worth pondering. * Since all public schools are not open to all kinds of students, what admissions standards should be acceptable for schools supported by public funds? * Shouldn't schools we describe as public accept and use some of the country's basic ideas to help improve education? Before commenting on these questions, I'd like to shed some light on why they are so central to me. A brief overview of my experience will help explain. I began my first teaching job in September 1970. The Minneapolis Public Schools hired me to teach social studies and writing to youngsters aged 12 to 14. These young people attended a 50-student school called the YES Center. They were the students that other Minneapolis schools most wanted to remove from their buildings. Among this group were young men and women who were guilty of theft, assault, and assault with a deadly weapon. There were wonderful moments that year, like the four days 10 students and I spent camping on the shores of Lake Superior. We explored a waterfall 80 feet high, the first waterfall any of the students had seen. Though these young people were and knowledgeable about drugs, sex, and weapons, most worried a great deal about a bear or moose attack. (Didn't happen.) Some of these tough youngsters even brought dolls to sleep with them. We hiked in the woods, waded in a river, and threw rocks into Lake Superior. A talented park ranger explained how the land and water constantly do battle with each other. The trip calmed the students and built greater trust among us. But it did not end their problems. In that first year of teaching, there were also some very bad moments, such as the morning a student pulled a knife on me and demanded I get out of the way so he could leave class. I don't know why he pulled the knife or what I might have done to be more successful with him. Several years later, he killed another teenager. That year convinced me that it was a bad idea to put a group of very angry, troubled young people together in one school. So, in my spare time, I helped others in Minneapolis design a new public school that would be open to all kinds of students. It would be located in the same troubled neighborhood where I lived and where the YES Center was located. …