My brother has enough kids to field a baseball team.
One just earned her graduate degree from Notre Dame after getting her undergraduate from Boston College.
Another is graduating from Georgetown, which took one look at her grades and test scores and offered a full scholarship.
Another just entered West Point.
But it’s the younger siblings, the ones still in danger of braces, who really show promise. They devour books like Thin Mints and would destroy Donald Trump in the family Monopoly games.
These kids aren’t the products of elite schools; they don’t spend their summers in the Hamptons. My brother is a sports reporter, drives cars held together by NAPA and a prayer, and struggles to make ends meet.
But still, he started his kids off with an education that money could not buy. He sent them to a K-8 school with few resources and only a single teacher, one who possessed neither a teaching certificate nor a four-year degree.
The teacher is Nancy, Kevin’s wife.