The transition to kindergarten is often a poignant milestone for many families, marked by equal parts pride and apprehension. For one Florida family, that transition came with additional layers of complexity, love, and advocacy.
Amy and Ali Murphy share that their family is like many others — filled with laughter, bedtime stories, and the occasional epic meltdown. But their family also has its own special hue in the rainbow: Ali is a transgender woman, and their journey to parenthood, and now to kindergarten, has been one of embracing their authentic selves. They have always prioritized authenticity and inclusivity in their parenting journey. As they prepared to send their son, Trey, to kindergarten, they knew they weren’t just looking for a strong academic curriculum — they needed a school that would embrace their family and celebrate their child’s unique personality and neurodiversity.
Trey, a bright and creative five-year-old with ADHD, thrives in environments that honor his energy and curiosity. His parents understood that finding a school capable of supporting his learning style, while also affirming their family identity, would be no small feat. What followed was an intensive, emotional journey through Florida’s public, charter, private, and Montessori school options — one filled with both setbacks and surprising moments of grace.
Note: Except for Turtle River Montessori, the names of all schools mentioned in this article have been changed.
Navigating the Public School Puzzle
Florida’s public school grading system, which assigns letter grades from A to F based on standardized test scores and other metrics, felt to the family like an oversimplified snapshot of school quality. Their zoned public school held a C rating, which didn’t automatically disqualify it in their minds, but raised concerns.
The couple worried about whether the school could adequately support Trey’s needs. Children with ADHD often require individualized strategies, patience, and structure. Large class sizes and limited resources, often underlying those letter grades, signaled that the environment might not be conducive to Trey’s growth. Rather than the grade itself, it was the context behind it that made the family uneasy about relying on the public system. They didn’t want Trey’s early educational experience to feel like a gamble.
Exploring the Choice Program Maze
Their next step was the Palm Beach County School Choice program. Designed to offer specialized public education options across the district, the program impressed them with its diverse offerings. Trey’s hands-on nature and passion for building and tinkering made the engineering tracks especially appealing.
Applying for the Choice program required early planning. It began in October with a student ID application — a seemingly small step that was actually critical for continuing the process. This alone could take a couple of weeks, so being organized was key. In January, the main application window opened for the actual program choices.
The family selected two engineering-based schools as their top choices, hopeful that the engaging, design-focused curriculum would ignite Trey’s interest. They envisioned him building robots, designing bridges, and exploring how things work in a hands-on, stimulating environment.
But despite their efforts, Trey wasn’t selected. The program’s lottery system, while fair in principle, left many families disappointed. The rejection felt like another roadblock in their already complicated search — a painful reminder that even the best-fit programs could be just out of reach.
The Whirlwind of Private School Tours
With limited public options remaining, the family shifted their focus to private schools. Ali’s demanding schedule meant her spouse handled most of the tours solo, armed with a notebook and rising anxiety.
Christian School was the first stop. The school felt lovely at first, warm and inviting. Trey’s parents could easily envision him happy and thriving there. But when the question of LGBTQIA+ inclusivity came up, the tone shifted. Initially, the answer was promising — “We have many same-sex couples who send their children here” — but when Trey’s parent shared that Ali was a transgender woman, the response became noticeably less confident. The guide hesitated, saying, “I think there’s something in the manual about that.” The warmth in the room faded, and no follow-up call ever came.
At Premier Private School, both parents attended the tour. The facilities were top-tier, the staff highly credentialed, and the academic reputation excellent. They seriously considered it despite the eye-watering $30,000 annual tuition — not including uniforms, supplies, trips, and other fees. But a dinner conversation with friends whose child had attended the school’s VPK program gave them pause. Those friends shared concerns about an overly competitive culture and a lack of warmth, including a story about a young girl being pulled out of class early every day for tutoring to prepare for the kindergarten entrance exam. The idea of pressuring a five-year-old to pass an entrance exam seemed out of step with their values.
Gifted Private School, on the other hand, felt like a breath of fresh air. The head of school was warm and confident in her assurance that the family would be fully embraced. Trey was invited for two days — one to observe his social interactions, the other for academic assessment. Given his 99th percentile score on the Star Early Literacy Assessment, his parents were optimistic. The subsequent feedback was disheartening: he was inattentive, made noises during group time, and didn’t make eye contact. While his parents were initially devastated, they came to see it as a blessing. If the school couldn’t look past a child’s challenges to see his potential, it wasn’t the right place.
As a precaution, Trey was enrolled in a local charter school, and they attended orientation. The familiarity of other students from his VPK class was comforting. However, a teacher’s mistaken claim that stop signs are trapezoids — rather than octagons — sparked concerns about the school’s academic accuracy. It became clear that their search would need to continue.
Discovering a Place of Belonging
Hope resurfaced after a conversation with a friend whose son with ADHD had thrived at Turtle River Montessori. Cautiously optimistic, Trey’s parents scheduled a tour.
From the start, the environment felt different. The school was calm but vibrant, and the staff seemed intuitive and genuinely child centered. During his 30-minute introductory meeting, Trey was nervous and hung back. The teacher, noticing, gently said, “Trey, would you prefer to stand? It’s totally okay if you stand.” That simple gesture of understanding transformed the moment. Trey visibly relaxed, and the teacher allowed him to engage at his own pace.
He returned the next day for a full visit. On the way home, he was unusually chatty and enthusiastic — a rare sign of connection. A few days later, the school called: they would be delighted to welcome Trey into their community. Relief and joy overwhelmed his parents. After months of stress, uncertainty, and heartbreak, they had finally found a school where Trey could be himself — and be celebrated for it.
Advice for Other Parents
Reflecting on their journey, Trey’s parents offered insights to help others navigating similar decisions:
- Start early: The application process can sneak up on families. Get familiar with timelines, especially for choice and private programs.
- Be an advocate: Know your child’s strengths and needs. Come prepared to speak confidently on their behalf.
- Trust your instincts: Even well-rated schools may not be the right emotional or cultural fit. If something feels off, it probably is.
- Explore all options: Public, private, charter, Montessori — each school type offers unique benefits and challenges.
- Talk to other families: LGBTQIA+ parents and those raising children with ADHD or other neurodivergent traits can be a vital resource.
- Look for alignment, not perfection: The best school is one where your child feels safe, seen, and supported — not necessarily the most expensive or prestigious.
Their story underscores the emotional labor many families endure to find the right educational environment. The Murphy family emphasizes that the search for the perfect school can be challenging, but it’s an investment in your child’s future. They show that by being informed, persistent, and trusting your instincts, families can find a place where their children will flourish — and where they will truly feel like they belong.
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