Walking into the crowded, noisy hall of the Baltimore Convention Center on Saturday instantly took me back to a similar excursion four decades ago. Then, like now, I was presented with row after row of school representatives handing out detailed brochures and brightly printed tchotchkes like stickers and pencils, making the case for why the future would be brighter for picking their institution.

The difference? I was an overeager high schooler excited about college, poring over shiny photos of happy freshmen, green lawns and stately buildings that just screamed “you will be smarter here.” But Saturday the prospective student being pitched to was a slightly bored 11-year-old in a Jordan hoodie more interested in texting his friends about when he’d be back to play and investigating the inviting churro smell emanating from the hallway.

“You should pay attention. This is about your future,” I whispered to my son. We were at Baltimore City’s School Choice Fair, where families asked questions about academics, activities and more that might help narrow down an important decision — where our kids are going to middle or high school next year. This is a dilemma parents of the past didn’t have to face for their fifth graders. You pretty much went to your zone middle school, unless you were accepted to a magnet program.

But, since 2010, the district has allowed prospective middle schoolers to apply to schools around the city to ensure that minority and economically disadvantaged students are not limited to schools in their geographic area that may not perform as well. (The city’s high schools adopted choice in 2005.) There are good reasons to empower kids and parents, but to me it seems like just one more parenting decision that, if made poorly, could set my kid up for a disappointing academic outcome.

Honestly, I felt overwhelmed with the bevy of options and oddly hungry for churros.

“I am not familiar with this process at all,” said Nastassia Baker, a fellow first-timer at the fair who, like me, grew up in Baltimore at a time before choice and was overwhelmed with the amount of information to take in. “It seems like too much and, at the same time, not enough.”

But Tikie Johnson, who was there for the third time with her youngest child, finds the process helpful. “I like looking for the right middle school for her to fit into,” she said. “I like that they get to choose.”

Some families are lucky enough to live in areas where their neighborhood school extends to the eighth grade, but sadly we are not. Personally, I’ve been dreading my son’s fifth-grade year. It’s not just because of this “Fiddler on the Roof” moment of watching my baby get older, but because I’m worried about making the wrong choice as he moves onward. As we trod around the convention center trying not to miss any schools, the endless tables, crowds and constant sounds from bands, cheerleaders and what appeared to be a high school Maroon 5 cover band made me feel even more anxious.

I was hoping the fair would help me narrow the field, and it did. But looking at the school district’s official choice page, I still feel completely unprepared. The timeline says we should have started this journey in third grade, considering interests and visiting middle school websites. Suddenly I understand those parents I used to make fun of who panicked that picking the wrong day care could doom their kid’s chances of going to Harvard.

The schools themselves are looking at a composite score that combines the student’s final fourth-grade marks, their first-quarter grades in fifth, and the spring MCAP (Maryland Comprehensive Assessment Program) test scores. I’m looking at each school’s results on the just-released statewide report cards, class size, distance from my home and possible transportation, and the number of Black male teachers, which has been linked to improved academic outcomes for Black boys.

But, after a while, each option started to sound alike. All the reps were engaged and informative, and I met several enthusiastic principals and teachers who had so many wonderful things to say about their students and communities. But it was a lot. It does feel like he’s looking at universities, not sixth grade. When my sister and I went to the convention center’s college fair in both our sophomore and junior years at Baltimore City College, we sent away for informational material for so many schools that our weary mailman knocked on the door and begged us to pick one because his bag was getting heavy.

You will not be surprised that fifth graders are much less invested in the academic particulars of their future school, though my son’s ears did perk up every time someone mentioned flag football or band. By the end of our time at the fair, he was actually asking questions about activities — when I wasn’t embarrassing him flashing my class ring at people from my alma mater as we all yelled “City Forever!” at each other.

The truth is that, while my son has some input, ultimately the choice is mine and, well, the schools deciding whether to admit my child. All I can do is do my research, ask more questions and hope this doesn’t affect his chances of getting into Harvard. I don’t need that kind of guilt.