I was starting to think that I wouldn't be hearing from John for a long time, but then he called me tonight. He said he had just put minutes on his phone. I asked him how he was doing, and he said alright. He said that he missed a few--well, all--of last week because he was with social services. He said that he has to do 12 days there because of his arrest.
I said I was surprised that they would have him use all of this time to miss school to do this.
He said it was because the charges were serious.
What were they?
He said something about gang assault.
Oh, you didn't tell me that.
You never asked.
That's right. He said he's going to go to school this whole week. He told me that he brought a note to school today to explain his absence. School was good because the teachers didn't ask too many questions.
Better than social services?
Way better.
What about homework?
He hasn't figured out if he has homework assignments yet. He said that the school is very independent, so he can't really figure out how students get their assignments. He said tomorrow he'll ask.
I said I'd ask Mr. M to help him with that.
He's coming over on Sunday. At least, that's the plan.
I'm feeling some hope again. I can hear in his voice that he wants to do well, and I know that he doesn't want to go to jail. I appreciate his loyalty. I can tell that he doesn't want to let me down.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Sunday, December 6, 2009
John, Part III
This is my third post about my former student, who I'm calling John. By chronicling my experience with him, I'm hoping to illuminate some of the obstacles to succeeding in school facing a young man in the South Bronx. I believe that the root of these obstacles--himself, the school system, society at large, etc.--are impossible to pinpoint. There is always another cause behind the cause. The obstacles are significant, however, because they seem to promulgate in communities like John's. That is a sign of a fundamentally unjust society, and I'm interested in figuring out systemic answers.
At the same time, I hope that there are some answers in my individual efforts with John. So far, though, I haven't found any. I'm not surprised, either, and I wouldn't do anything differently. Things may still get worse before they get better.
Oh, and I also write to vent. This is frustrating.
-----------------------------------------
Monday, November 23
John entered school last Thursday, and Mr. M said he'd be able to tell me by today what the school would do to ensure that John had the opportunity to earn credits this semester. I call Mr. M, John's guidance counselor.
Mr. M said that John attended school on Thursday but was out on Friday. He came back today. John claimed that he had an appointment with social services on Friday, and Mr. M told him to bring a note next time. He said the principal said that John would have to do his work and they'd evaluate the credits.
I said I'd like to come to school on Wednesday morning, the day before Thanksgiving, to meet with the principal and a few teachers to find out what John should be focusing on. After entering the semester two-thirds in, having been out of school for a year and half, and with low skills to start with, I just don't think he can tackle all of his classes at once. Mr. M says, This is not the type of school where you can make an appointment with the principal at any time, even for the same week. And this week is midterms so I know she won't meet with you.
I vent to a co-worker, and she suggests that I call the principal and then email her from my Department of Ed account. I do, and she calls back. I miss the call, but I'm able to call her shortly afterwards. She said that she's had to ask him to take his hat off, and that when she speaks to him he looks right through her like she's not even there. She says, and this is verbatim, I've never had a student like that.
I think, really? I've had plenty.
I asked her what she thought his goal should be right now, because passing all of his classes just didn't seem realistic. She said his goal should be to come to school every day and respond when adults speak to him.
When I ask her about credits, she says, I'm very clear that students have to do the work to earn credits. I say, well, if John gets 100s in all of his classes this quarter and 0s for the first two quarters, that's only 33 percent, and no credits. She says, I think the teachers will work with him, he can earn some credits.
Tuesday, November 24
I get John on the phone. I've left several messages and written him a couple of times on myspace as well, and he finally calls back. We talk for awhile, and I tell him what his principal said. He seems surprised. I also tell him I'm proud of him. I invite him over for dinner and homework for the next Tuesday. He accepts.
Tuesday, December 1
I've written John and called him to remind him about dinner. I call and leave another message, and he texts me at 4:05:
I cant make it i still have 2 more hour at this community service program. I cant talk on the phone neither
I text back:
Ok, can you call me tonight?
John:
My phone been actin up. sry i couldnt make it
Me:
Its ok, but id like to talk. If you cant talk tonight ill try calling mr m tomorrow to see if you can call together
John:
Ill call u
Wednesday, December 2
I received this email from Mr. M:
Dear Sam,
Just wanted to inform you that John has not been to school since our Thanksgiving break.
Warmly,
Mr. M
I wrote back that I'll do what I can. And I've been able to exchange some quick messages on myspace with John, but he says his phone is not working so he can't call. Of course, I told him that he needs to find a way to make a call, but it hasn't happened yet.
At the same time, I hope that there are some answers in my individual efforts with John. So far, though, I haven't found any. I'm not surprised, either, and I wouldn't do anything differently. Things may still get worse before they get better.
Oh, and I also write to vent. This is frustrating.
-----------------------------------------
Monday, November 23
John entered school last Thursday, and Mr. M said he'd be able to tell me by today what the school would do to ensure that John had the opportunity to earn credits this semester. I call Mr. M, John's guidance counselor.
Mr. M said that John attended school on Thursday but was out on Friday. He came back today. John claimed that he had an appointment with social services on Friday, and Mr. M told him to bring a note next time. He said the principal said that John would have to do his work and they'd evaluate the credits.
I said I'd like to come to school on Wednesday morning, the day before Thanksgiving, to meet with the principal and a few teachers to find out what John should be focusing on. After entering the semester two-thirds in, having been out of school for a year and half, and with low skills to start with, I just don't think he can tackle all of his classes at once. Mr. M says, This is not the type of school where you can make an appointment with the principal at any time, even for the same week. And this week is midterms so I know she won't meet with you.
I vent to a co-worker, and she suggests that I call the principal and then email her from my Department of Ed account. I do, and she calls back. I miss the call, but I'm able to call her shortly afterwards. She said that she's had to ask him to take his hat off, and that when she speaks to him he looks right through her like she's not even there. She says, and this is verbatim, I've never had a student like that.
I think, really? I've had plenty.
I asked her what she thought his goal should be right now, because passing all of his classes just didn't seem realistic. She said his goal should be to come to school every day and respond when adults speak to him.
When I ask her about credits, she says, I'm very clear that students have to do the work to earn credits. I say, well, if John gets 100s in all of his classes this quarter and 0s for the first two quarters, that's only 33 percent, and no credits. She says, I think the teachers will work with him, he can earn some credits.
Tuesday, November 24
I get John on the phone. I've left several messages and written him a couple of times on myspace as well, and he finally calls back. We talk for awhile, and I tell him what his principal said. He seems surprised. I also tell him I'm proud of him. I invite him over for dinner and homework for the next Tuesday. He accepts.
Tuesday, December 1
I've written John and called him to remind him about dinner. I call and leave another message, and he texts me at 4:05:
I cant make it i still have 2 more hour at this community service program. I cant talk on the phone neither
I text back:
Ok, can you call me tonight?
John:
My phone been actin up. sry i couldnt make it
Me:
Its ok, but id like to talk. If you cant talk tonight ill try calling mr m tomorrow to see if you can call together
John:
Ill call u
Wednesday, December 2
I received this email from Mr. M:
Dear Sam,
Just wanted to inform you that John has not been to school since our Thanksgiving break.
Warmly,
Mr. M
I wrote back that I'll do what I can. And I've been able to exchange some quick messages on myspace with John, but he says his phone is not working so he can't call. Of course, I told him that he needs to find a way to make a call, but it hasn't happened yet.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
John, Part II
I called John about 5pm today. He told me he went to school the whole day. I asked if he got there on time, and he said yes, about 8:20-something. I asked if Mr. M tied his tie or he got someone else to do it, and he said Mr. M tied it. I asked if he had any assignments, and he said, what do you mean, homework? I said yes. He said, no, they said that I’m too late in the semester to earn credit so I don’t need homework. (The semester ends at the end of January.) I said I was going to do something about that, that I wanted him to earn credits, even if only 1 or 2 for the semester. I said he needed to keep trying though. He said, I am.
I’m going to call Mr. M on Monday to find out about the credits and the homework, and I’ll be at the school on Wednesday morning.
John was going into his elevator, so he said he’d call back after 9:00 when his minutes are free. It’s a good thing that he has minutes at all right now. He said that his brother or his uncle gave him money for a prepaid phone. When he didn’t have a phone last year the only way I had of communicating with him was through myspace. We can get more done in a minute on the phone than in a week of myspace.
I didn’t hear from John, so I called at 9:30. His brother answered and said that John didn’t have his phone right now. I asked if John was nearby, and he said no, sir. I asked if he knew that John went to school this morning, that I was his teacher. He said yes, he saw him in his uniform. I told him that I had gone with John to get his uniform. I said I was really proud of John, and I hoped he was too and that he was encouraging him. He said, definitely, I’m glad to see he’s on the right track. I asked him to tell John that I called.
One thing I didn’t say about John was why he was motivated to get back in school. As we were walking to his apartment yesterday, he asked me if I remembered the father of one of his former classmates, my former student, who was a cop. I did. He told me that the father patrolled the neighborhood, and he said that he had arrested John not so long ago. I asked for what. He said it was for being out at night with friends who had weed. He said the father took John to the precinct but let him go. (I think he knew John, and that may have helped.) John then told me that he had been arrested a few times for being out with guys who were smoking weed.
A little later he said, I’m not gonna lie, I smoke too. I asked if he did any other drugs. John said, weed’s not a drug, it’s an herb. That led to a discussion about what constitutes a drug.
But John told me, as we waited for someone to let us into his apartment building—he and his mom had lost the key to the front door, and it’s expensive to replace—that he had been to court recently, and the judge had told him that if he messed up again he’d be locked up for 15 days. Up to this point he’s only spent up to a weekend in lock-up.
A little while later, while we were walking to his school, I pointed to the barbed wire surrounding a juvenile detention facility not far from his house. I asked if he knew what it was. He said, Horizon. I said yes. I’ve been there a few times, because one of the schools I work with is inside. I said, so that’s where you’ll go if you get locked up? He said, no, I’ll go to Rikers, I’m 16. I said, oh, that’s right.
Even though I spend time on Rikers, I always forget that in New York 16 year-olds are tried as adults.
John said, I’ll go crazy if I go to Rikers.
Why?
Dudes will try to challenge me and want to fight. That’s why I need to get back in school.
I’m going to call Mr. M on Monday to find out about the credits and the homework, and I’ll be at the school on Wednesday morning.
John was going into his elevator, so he said he’d call back after 9:00 when his minutes are free. It’s a good thing that he has minutes at all right now. He said that his brother or his uncle gave him money for a prepaid phone. When he didn’t have a phone last year the only way I had of communicating with him was through myspace. We can get more done in a minute on the phone than in a week of myspace.
I didn’t hear from John, so I called at 9:30. His brother answered and said that John didn’t have his phone right now. I asked if John was nearby, and he said no, sir. I asked if he knew that John went to school this morning, that I was his teacher. He said yes, he saw him in his uniform. I told him that I had gone with John to get his uniform. I said I was really proud of John, and I hoped he was too and that he was encouraging him. He said, definitely, I’m glad to see he’s on the right track. I asked him to tell John that I called.
One thing I didn’t say about John was why he was motivated to get back in school. As we were walking to his apartment yesterday, he asked me if I remembered the father of one of his former classmates, my former student, who was a cop. I did. He told me that the father patrolled the neighborhood, and he said that he had arrested John not so long ago. I asked for what. He said it was for being out at night with friends who had weed. He said the father took John to the precinct but let him go. (I think he knew John, and that may have helped.) John then told me that he had been arrested a few times for being out with guys who were smoking weed.
A little later he said, I’m not gonna lie, I smoke too. I asked if he did any other drugs. John said, weed’s not a drug, it’s an herb. That led to a discussion about what constitutes a drug.
But John told me, as we waited for someone to let us into his apartment building—he and his mom had lost the key to the front door, and it’s expensive to replace—that he had been to court recently, and the judge had told him that if he messed up again he’d be locked up for 15 days. Up to this point he’s only spent up to a weekend in lock-up.
A little while later, while we were walking to his school, I pointed to the barbed wire surrounding a juvenile detention facility not far from his house. I asked if he knew what it was. He said, Horizon. I said yes. I’ve been there a few times, because one of the schools I work with is inside. I said, so that’s where you’ll go if you get locked up? He said, no, I’ll go to Rikers, I’m 16. I said, oh, that’s right.
Even though I spend time on Rikers, I always forget that in New York 16 year-olds are tried as adults.
John said, I’ll go crazy if I go to Rikers.
Why?
Dudes will try to challenge me and want to fight. That’s why I need to get back in school.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Frustrated and Angry
I met “John” this morning at 8:30 at the McDonald’s at 149th and 3rd Ave. in the South Bronx. We caught up over orange juice, then headed over to “Cookies” to buy him some school clothes.
John was a student in my advisory two years ago. Last year, he was enrolled at Gompers High School, where his attendance rate was 35% first semester and 8% second semester. (One of the interesting things about working in a district office now is that I can look these things up.) I helped him apply to a new high school last winter because he was unhappy at Gompers. He has attended exactly one day at his new high school so far this year.
The day he went to school, the principal told him that he needed to wear a uniform—he says he didn’t know—and she put him in detention. When the fire drill went off, he left, and until today he had not been back.
John lives with his mother, who does not work. He is in contact with his father, but he does not work either.
Today, we spent $130 on three pairs of pants, three shirts, socks, and a tie. We spent $20 on school supplies and $15 on a backpack. We visited about seven stores before we found a $35 pair of black shoes that fit his size-12 feet AND that he could live with.
Last week, I spoke to John’s counselor, Mr. M. I told Mr. M that John would be coming with me to school in a week when I could take a morning off. Mr. M wanted to know why John hadn’t been in school. I didn’t know what to say. I know John says it’s because he didn’t have a uniform. I told him I didn’t see why it was relevant at this point, because he was coming back. I then said that it was pretty much the same story that any other 16 year-old in New York has for not being in school. I wanted to know how, going forward, they would support John, a student who has not been in school for a year and half and wasn’t a strong student when I had him. (I remember him saying that he had never read a book until he came to our school. He passed the eighth grade, but barely.) I don’t care if John only earns two credits this semester, because that will be two more than he has now. I just don’t want him to be told to take on a full schedule in a third of a semester and then get no credits when it’s over. I asked if his schedule could be adjusted to give him more time in particular classes. Mr. M said he’d have to check with the principal. A few hours later he called back and said John would have to keep his schedule as it is: two different English classes, two different history classes, two Science sections, Math, Gym, and Art.
In between shopping trips, John and I walked to his school building. Agent T greeted us with, “You’re a student at ________?” (His school shares the building with several other schools.) “You need a uniform.” I explained to her the situation and said he’d be back the next day in uniform. I would have the same conversation three more times when we arrived at the school. I told her that John was trying to get back on track and would she please look out for him.
The first person we met in the office was the attendance teacher, who told John that he had been to his house looking for him. He asked John where he had been, why he hadn’t been in school. He told him about the uniform. He warned him that if he wasn’t attending at the end of the school year he could be taken off the school’s register. And he told John that he knew his brother from Gompers and that was what happened to him.
The secretary told us John needed a uniform and thrust the uniform description at us.
We were able to meet Mr. M and John’s English teacher, but there had been two fights today so the principal was tied up in student mediations. I asked whether John could take home some reading with him. The English teacher said that it was an expensive textbook and that she’d have to check with the principal. Maybe if John were attending school. I said, well that’s a catch 22; he needs the book to work and he needs to work to get the book. I asked the English teacher what John would have to do to earn a credit this semester, given that he is entering two-thirds of the way through the year. She said that she would have to ask the principal. I asked Mr. M if we could meet some more of John’s counselors. He said that he wasn’t what the principal had in mind for new incoming students.
I felt like telling them that they were some stonewalling cowards standing in the way of a student from trying to do the right thing. I felt like telling the principal that while I had never met her, she didn’t know the first thing about leadership. I felt like telling John that this whole thing was fucked up and that these people did not trust him and he would have to work at earning their trust. Of the past three aspirations, only the third did I follow through on.
I also asked John why he thought I was spending the morning with him and my money on him. He said, because you think it’s the right thing to do. And because you care. I said that he was right, but there were two other reasons. I told him I believed in him, probably more than he believed in himself. And I told him that it was an investment. The first return on the investment would come tomorrow when I found out that he went to school on time, in uniform and stayed the whole day. He thanked me.
I made a plan with Mr. M to call him on Monday to find out what John would need to do to earn credits this semester. If he doesn’t tell me, I’ll be calling the District Family Advocate as well as his principal’s boss.
It strikes me that not only do John’s parents lack the money to get him off on the right foot, they lack the knowledge and sense of entitlement that is driving me to make sure he gets the support he deserves.
At about 1:30pm, shoes and school supplies in hand, I left John and flagged a livery cab to get back to work. He said he’d call me on his way home from school tomorrow.
Even as I write this, there are two other situations with students that are weighing heavily on me. A female student who I knew at my old school took a stray bullet to the head on Monday afternoon and is in a coma. I have spoken to several of her distraught friends in the past two days. Another former student just posted a clear cry for help on Facebook, one that I don’t care to describe here.
When I think about these stories in the light of education policy debates, I get frustrated. Schools matter. But the argument that great schools and a great education will lift these students out of poverty feels inhumane. What can we do about drugs, guns, and poverty NOW? We can’t wait for kids to get a good education. And even if we could wait, drugs, guns and poverty are getting in the way.
John was a student in my advisory two years ago. Last year, he was enrolled at Gompers High School, where his attendance rate was 35% first semester and 8% second semester. (One of the interesting things about working in a district office now is that I can look these things up.) I helped him apply to a new high school last winter because he was unhappy at Gompers. He has attended exactly one day at his new high school so far this year.
The day he went to school, the principal told him that he needed to wear a uniform—he says he didn’t know—and she put him in detention. When the fire drill went off, he left, and until today he had not been back.
John lives with his mother, who does not work. He is in contact with his father, but he does not work either.
Today, we spent $130 on three pairs of pants, three shirts, socks, and a tie. We spent $20 on school supplies and $15 on a backpack. We visited about seven stores before we found a $35 pair of black shoes that fit his size-12 feet AND that he could live with.
Last week, I spoke to John’s counselor, Mr. M. I told Mr. M that John would be coming with me to school in a week when I could take a morning off. Mr. M wanted to know why John hadn’t been in school. I didn’t know what to say. I know John says it’s because he didn’t have a uniform. I told him I didn’t see why it was relevant at this point, because he was coming back. I then said that it was pretty much the same story that any other 16 year-old in New York has for not being in school. I wanted to know how, going forward, they would support John, a student who has not been in school for a year and half and wasn’t a strong student when I had him. (I remember him saying that he had never read a book until he came to our school. He passed the eighth grade, but barely.) I don’t care if John only earns two credits this semester, because that will be two more than he has now. I just don’t want him to be told to take on a full schedule in a third of a semester and then get no credits when it’s over. I asked if his schedule could be adjusted to give him more time in particular classes. Mr. M said he’d have to check with the principal. A few hours later he called back and said John would have to keep his schedule as it is: two different English classes, two different history classes, two Science sections, Math, Gym, and Art.
In between shopping trips, John and I walked to his school building. Agent T greeted us with, “You’re a student at ________?” (His school shares the building with several other schools.) “You need a uniform.” I explained to her the situation and said he’d be back the next day in uniform. I would have the same conversation three more times when we arrived at the school. I told her that John was trying to get back on track and would she please look out for him.
The first person we met in the office was the attendance teacher, who told John that he had been to his house looking for him. He asked John where he had been, why he hadn’t been in school. He told him about the uniform. He warned him that if he wasn’t attending at the end of the school year he could be taken off the school’s register. And he told John that he knew his brother from Gompers and that was what happened to him.
The secretary told us John needed a uniform and thrust the uniform description at us.
We were able to meet Mr. M and John’s English teacher, but there had been two fights today so the principal was tied up in student mediations. I asked whether John could take home some reading with him. The English teacher said that it was an expensive textbook and that she’d have to check with the principal. Maybe if John were attending school. I said, well that’s a catch 22; he needs the book to work and he needs to work to get the book. I asked the English teacher what John would have to do to earn a credit this semester, given that he is entering two-thirds of the way through the year. She said that she would have to ask the principal. I asked Mr. M if we could meet some more of John’s counselors. He said that he wasn’t what the principal had in mind for new incoming students.
I felt like telling them that they were some stonewalling cowards standing in the way of a student from trying to do the right thing. I felt like telling the principal that while I had never met her, she didn’t know the first thing about leadership. I felt like telling John that this whole thing was fucked up and that these people did not trust him and he would have to work at earning their trust. Of the past three aspirations, only the third did I follow through on.
I also asked John why he thought I was spending the morning with him and my money on him. He said, because you think it’s the right thing to do. And because you care. I said that he was right, but there were two other reasons. I told him I believed in him, probably more than he believed in himself. And I told him that it was an investment. The first return on the investment would come tomorrow when I found out that he went to school on time, in uniform and stayed the whole day. He thanked me.
I made a plan with Mr. M to call him on Monday to find out what John would need to do to earn credits this semester. If he doesn’t tell me, I’ll be calling the District Family Advocate as well as his principal’s boss.
It strikes me that not only do John’s parents lack the money to get him off on the right foot, they lack the knowledge and sense of entitlement that is driving me to make sure he gets the support he deserves.
At about 1:30pm, shoes and school supplies in hand, I left John and flagged a livery cab to get back to work. He said he’d call me on his way home from school tomorrow.
Even as I write this, there are two other situations with students that are weighing heavily on me. A female student who I knew at my old school took a stray bullet to the head on Monday afternoon and is in a coma. I have spoken to several of her distraught friends in the past two days. Another former student just posted a clear cry for help on Facebook, one that I don’t care to describe here.
When I think about these stories in the light of education policy debates, I get frustrated. Schools matter. But the argument that great schools and a great education will lift these students out of poverty feels inhumane. What can we do about drugs, guns, and poverty NOW? We can’t wait for kids to get a good education. And even if we could wait, drugs, guns and poverty are getting in the way.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Kristof and the Parents
The blog lives! This week Nicholas Kristof wrote a piece entitled "Democrats and Schools." I've read several critiques of the piece, but what I haven't seen anyone address is what Kristof says about parents. At different points in his column he refers to the parents of children in poorly performing schools as "uninterested" and "uncomplaining." Now, critics of the piece argue that Kristof is blaming teachers for the current state of education, and I think there's some validity to that point. But what really strikes me is the extent to which he is blaming parents.
Here's what we know about parenting and poverty: 1) Poverty causes stress; 2) Stressed out parents create dysfunctional home environments; and 3) Kids in dysfunctional home environments do poorly in school. (Of course, there are plenty of examples of parents who are able to deal with poverty effectively, but this is the overall trend.)
However, Kristof doesn't acknowledge any of this. Does Kristof really believe that families are poor because their parents just don't care about education? I'm not sure. There are folks out there who believe that, though, and that always causes me to ask, well how do you explain the disproportionate number of black families who are poor?
And for a far more insightful and nuanced critique of teachers' unions and all other players who have contributed to the current problem in New York City of a glut of subpar teachers who no one wants to hire, check out Ariel's blog. It's excellent.
Here's what we know about parenting and poverty: 1) Poverty causes stress; 2) Stressed out parents create dysfunctional home environments; and 3) Kids in dysfunctional home environments do poorly in school. (Of course, there are plenty of examples of parents who are able to deal with poverty effectively, but this is the overall trend.)
However, Kristof doesn't acknowledge any of this. Does Kristof really believe that families are poor because their parents just don't care about education? I'm not sure. There are folks out there who believe that, though, and that always causes me to ask, well how do you explain the disproportionate number of black families who are poor?
And for a far more insightful and nuanced critique of teachers' unions and all other players who have contributed to the current problem in New York City of a glut of subpar teachers who no one wants to hire, check out Ariel's blog. It's excellent.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Good Schools are Not Enough
Tonight I spoke to one of my all-time favorite students. D was a sixth grader in my first advisory, when I started teaching middle school in 2005. (For those who don't know, advisory is a non-academic class designed primarily for middle schools. The idea is to create a small setting where every student can create a close relationship with peers and adults and discuss issues relevant to their lives.) D was tough, well-loved, and bright. Honest, too, for the most part, in that she would tell you what was on her mind to your face, or she would just be quiet. Mischievous. And angry.
In seventh grade she was in my advisory again, but she began missing school. The week before my wedding, in early October, my wife came to visit the class, but D was out. I remember being disappointed. Not long afterwards she came to school with a black eye. I can't remember the explanation. And a few days after that she came to school one day and refused to go home. She told her friends and then the principal that her mom was hitting her.
Ever since then she's been in foster care (except for part of a summer with her grandparents in a neighboring state). She ended up going to a different school that year, but I didn't lose touch with her. At least, not completely. Last year she ran away for three months. And in the past year she's bounced around a few times between homes, but because I work for the school district I'm able to see her phone number when it's updated in the system and call her up. I can also see her attendance; she's been in school 25 days so far this year.
I've only spoken to her twice this year. The first time, about 4 months ago, she was six months pregnant. The second time was tonight. Her baby is two weeks old, healthy. She says that she may be going back to live with her grandparents.
The stories of bouncing between foster care homes and teenage pregnancy are not uncommon, obviously. The causes of these life situations are, also obviously, difficult to pinpoint. But what I am fairly sure of is that D did not go into foster care because her school was poor. She also did not become pregnant because of her school. At least, her school is no more the cause of her pregnancy and absenteeism than any of a number of other social factors. Like her dad being locked up, for example, which could be blamed on his school experience, but could also be blamed on the fact that there are a shortage of jobs in the South Bronx--the neighborhood where D lives. Or a sense of hopelessness that comes from never leaving an economically depressed neighborhood, which could be blamed on housing policies, or transportation policies, or Robert Moses.
That's why I get mad about folks like Joel Klein, Al Sharpton, and Newt Gingrich pretending that good schools can be created independent of all other social factors and will solve the problem for kids like D. The type of reform that they are calling for asks very little of anyone in our society except the students, teachers, and administrators in the school building. And that's not going to amount to real change.
Better schools may have helped, and may continue to help, D. But they're not the whole answer.
BTW, I recognize that this post is long on problems and short on solutions. I hope, though, that it goes a little ways to illustrating why the solution to social inequality in our society must be BIG--bigger than what happens in the school building.
In seventh grade she was in my advisory again, but she began missing school. The week before my wedding, in early October, my wife came to visit the class, but D was out. I remember being disappointed. Not long afterwards she came to school with a black eye. I can't remember the explanation. And a few days after that she came to school one day and refused to go home. She told her friends and then the principal that her mom was hitting her.
Ever since then she's been in foster care (except for part of a summer with her grandparents in a neighboring state). She ended up going to a different school that year, but I didn't lose touch with her. At least, not completely. Last year she ran away for three months. And in the past year she's bounced around a few times between homes, but because I work for the school district I'm able to see her phone number when it's updated in the system and call her up. I can also see her attendance; she's been in school 25 days so far this year.
I've only spoken to her twice this year. The first time, about 4 months ago, she was six months pregnant. The second time was tonight. Her baby is two weeks old, healthy. She says that she may be going back to live with her grandparents.
The stories of bouncing between foster care homes and teenage pregnancy are not uncommon, obviously. The causes of these life situations are, also obviously, difficult to pinpoint. But what I am fairly sure of is that D did not go into foster care because her school was poor. She also did not become pregnant because of her school. At least, her school is no more the cause of her pregnancy and absenteeism than any of a number of other social factors. Like her dad being locked up, for example, which could be blamed on his school experience, but could also be blamed on the fact that there are a shortage of jobs in the South Bronx--the neighborhood where D lives. Or a sense of hopelessness that comes from never leaving an economically depressed neighborhood, which could be blamed on housing policies, or transportation policies, or Robert Moses.
That's why I get mad about folks like Joel Klein, Al Sharpton, and Newt Gingrich pretending that good schools can be created independent of all other social factors and will solve the problem for kids like D. The type of reform that they are calling for asks very little of anyone in our society except the students, teachers, and administrators in the school building. And that's not going to amount to real change.
Better schools may have helped, and may continue to help, D. But they're not the whole answer.
BTW, I recognize that this post is long on problems and short on solutions. I hope, though, that it goes a little ways to illustrating why the solution to social inequality in our society must be BIG--bigger than what happens in the school building.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Not Going to Compromise
I was inspired to write by a friend who wrote me the other day.
It started when I posted the comment below as my status update on Facebook with this link:
"What I'm screamin' about education. 2.5 minutes."
A friend of mine, we'll call her C, wrote this to me:
Dave Berliner has been singing this song since the 70s. There is a huge chorus out there that recognizes that we know how to tackle the complexities of the problem but, lack the will to do so. It would cost more than you can imagine, demand change in the ways in which we view ourselves and our neighbors, and require the type of coordination among resources, services, and aspects of our social fabric that is overwhelming. He was an important leader in education research when we were at the National Institute of Education in the 70s and 80s. The closest I know that we've come to approaching his ideas is the old Follow Through Program. Don't get me started.......
I wrote back the comment below:
Hi C! Great response. Here are my thoughts:
1) I'm glad you told me about Berliner. I had only heard of him once before, but I thought he seemed like someone who has been around awhile. He's definitely of the camp people like David Brooks call (ironically) "traditionalist."
2) I don't want to just scream about this. That's why I'm not in academia.
3) I don't see any other option other than this approach. I truly believe that folks who dismiss this are delusional, because it's the same folks who say Berliner is a traditionalist who believe that good teaching alone can close the achievement gap. Most of those folks have never been teachers, and if they were, their teaching careers lasted only long enough to give them street cred.
If the goal is to really ensure that poor black kids and middle class white kids leave high school with the same level of education, then trying to plug holes with good teachers and principals will never do the trick. And if we stick to that line of thinking then we're either lying to others or ourselves.
So maybe Berliner's vision is a pipe dream, but at least it's an honest dream. Costs more than I can imagine? So does the Iraq War. Demand change in the ways we view ourselves and our neighbors? So did ending Jim Crow (and the work isn't done, but there have been changes). Require coordination among the social fabric? That's doable.
I'm not an academic because folks like him have already laid out the vision for what needs to be done and why. But we need to figure out a new approach to getting there. I'm tired of the same old conversation, just like you.
When I started this blog, I really just wanted to tease out the point I'm making above. I've been feeling like I've said what I want to say, and since I'm not doing any original research, I've got no more to add on this topic. My thoughts above are as plain as can be. It helped that I was writing to a friend, so I didn't self-censor thinking about a more public audience.
Well, there are a few other things that I want to say. They're just too complicated for a brief blog entry. I'm still mulling over them, so the blog lives on.
It started when I posted the comment below as my status update on Facebook with this link:
"What I'm screamin' about education. 2.5 minutes."
A friend of mine, we'll call her C, wrote this to me:
Dave Berliner has been singing this song since the 70s. There is a huge chorus out there that recognizes that we know how to tackle the complexities of the problem but, lack the will to do so. It would cost more than you can imagine, demand change in the ways in which we view ourselves and our neighbors, and require the type of coordination among resources, services, and aspects of our social fabric that is overwhelming. He was an important leader in education research when we were at the National Institute of Education in the 70s and 80s. The closest I know that we've come to approaching his ideas is the old Follow Through Program. Don't get me started.......
I wrote back the comment below:
Hi C! Great response. Here are my thoughts:
1) I'm glad you told me about Berliner. I had only heard of him once before, but I thought he seemed like someone who has been around awhile. He's definitely of the camp people like David Brooks call (ironically) "traditionalist."
2) I don't want to just scream about this. That's why I'm not in academia.
3) I don't see any other option other than this approach. I truly believe that folks who dismiss this are delusional, because it's the same folks who say Berliner is a traditionalist who believe that good teaching alone can close the achievement gap. Most of those folks have never been teachers, and if they were, their teaching careers lasted only long enough to give them street cred.
If the goal is to really ensure that poor black kids and middle class white kids leave high school with the same level of education, then trying to plug holes with good teachers and principals will never do the trick. And if we stick to that line of thinking then we're either lying to others or ourselves.
So maybe Berliner's vision is a pipe dream, but at least it's an honest dream. Costs more than I can imagine? So does the Iraq War. Demand change in the ways we view ourselves and our neighbors? So did ending Jim Crow (and the work isn't done, but there have been changes). Require coordination among the social fabric? That's doable.
I'm not an academic because folks like him have already laid out the vision for what needs to be done and why. But we need to figure out a new approach to getting there. I'm tired of the same old conversation, just like you.
When I started this blog, I really just wanted to tease out the point I'm making above. I've been feeling like I've said what I want to say, and since I'm not doing any original research, I've got no more to add on this topic. My thoughts above are as plain as can be. It helped that I was writing to a friend, so I didn't self-censor thinking about a more public audience.
Well, there are a few other things that I want to say. They're just too complicated for a brief blog entry. I'm still mulling over them, so the blog lives on.
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