How do you grade a school? See for yourself.

Yesterday morning, a friend texted me following a tour of our assigned middle school. Our oldest kids are slated to go there after next school year -- she's planning ahead, visiting magnet schools as well as our base school.

Her text: "VERY impressed!"

After her visit, my friend happily talked about "the spirit" of the school and how the students were "so proud and so excited." When's the last time you saw middle schoolers excited about school? That sense of community, combined with a growing engineering program, connections with NC State and enthusiastic teachers is what won her over.

This morning, the newspaper ran a full-page listing of the letter grades assigned yesterday to all public schools in North Carolina for the first time. According to that report, this same school is a D.

So who's right?

I'm betting on the assessment made after actually going to the school, hearing from the students and talking to the teachers. That barely passing grade from the state is calculated using only last year's scores on end-of-grade reading and math tests (80%) and a small measure of student academic growth (20%) -- it doesn't come close to capturing the full picture of what students and teachers are accomplishing in the school, where more than half the population lives in poverty.

In a statement Thursday about the grades, Senator Pro Tem Phil Berger (R) basically attacked anyone questioning the validity of the labels. "We’re troubled by early knee-jerk reactions that appear to condemn poor children to automatic failure," Berger said. "And we reject the premise that high poverty schools are incapable of excelling, since today’s report shows numerous examples that are proving that myth wrong. We must give these grades a chance to work so we can learn from them and improve outcomes for our children.” (WRAL)

Berger seems to think that it's the grades that will change the schools, not leadership development, instructional supports or professional salaries for teachers. Despite Berger's allegation, no one believes that "high poverty schools are incapable" -- but decades of research and observation tell us that poverty creates challenges and obstacles to effective teaching and learning that have to be overcome. Slapping a letter grade on a school won't change that.

Rep. Craig Horn (R), chairman of the House K-12 education committee, acknowledges that the formula might need to be adjusted, but says the letter grades are easy for parents to understand. "At least A, B, C, D and F, people have a much more definitive idea of how that school is performing and will make judgments accordingly," Horn said (WRAL).

It's exactly those "judgements" that scare me.

When parents see a D or F assigned to a school, it will be easy to remove that school from the consideration set. But when parents make decisions about whether or not to send their children to a certain school based only on that letter grade, they could be missing out on a great school. That decision can quickly turn into a vicious cycle for the school, where reputation becomes reality as more parents with the means to make different choices opt out of the school.

That's not what I want for any school -- but especially not for the school my son is likely to attend in another year, a school that has worked hard to become a popular choice after spending years rumored as a school to avoid.

Even Republican Senator Jerry Tillman, sponsor of the original bill calling for performance grades, predicted that the grades "may fall along demographic lines." Then the senator, also a former public school administrator, added this surprising statement: "If that's the case, I will be pushing to see some changes. I'd rather be in a D school making great growth than in an A school where growth is stagnant. I know if these kids are growing, there has to be good teaching and good leadership for that to be occurring." (The N&O)

I don't expect to see changes to the law any time soon -- Sen. Tillman acknowledged as much, and Sen. Berger is far too pleased with the law as it stands.

What I hope, though, is that parents and community members won't judge schools by this law. I hope that they will take the time to walk into these schools and judge for themselves. Look for the good teaching and good leadership that Sen. Tillman referenced. Get a sense of the community in the school, watch how students interact with each other and with their teachers.

The feeling you have inside the school will tell you far more than any letter grade -- regardless of what that letter happens to be.

To Teachers, With Love

The 11^th grade students who were in my class during my first year as a high school English teacher are now in their mid-30s. Most of them I lost touch with after they graduated, but a handful kept up with me over the years or found me later on Facebook. A few were in college in the same program where I attended graduate school, passing me in the halls now and then. A couple are still on my Christmas card list.

Earlier this month, as I got in line to pay for my pre-snowstorm eggs and milk, I ran into one of those former students, now a mother of two and a teacher herself. We hugged each other and laughed about how we were both buying groceries in advance of the snow predictions.

“Have you met M before?” she asked, motioning to the man behind her.

“I don’t think I have,” I said, introducing myself to her husband and shaking his hand.

“No, this is S__,” she said to him, emphasizing the name they called me back in 11^th grade.

His eyes brightened with recognition and he pulled me into a bear hug. He knew who I was – and in a good way. He knew my name, 18 years after she was in my class.

That afternoon, she posted a sweet note on Facebook about our chance meeting. When I went online to “like” her post, another former student – one that I hadn’t kept up with – had already left a comment: “Wow! She was a great teacher!”

I almost printed it out and framed it for my wall.

Today, North Carolina’s governor announced a 14 percent pay increase over the next two years for beginning teachers, bringing starting teacher salaries above those of neighboring states. The plan sounds like a good start, but doesn’t offer anything for mid-career and veteran teachers already in the classroom. That may help with recruitment, but it doesn’t do much to retain or respect teachers in the trenches -- teachers who haven't had a real raise in more than five years.

Most teachers will tell you they didn’t go into the profession for the paycheck – it’s not exactly news that teaching isn’t a lucrative career (click here for the 2013-14 salary schedule in NC). But it is a profession – one that requires a college degree, licensing exams and coursework for continued certification. And it’s a job path that ought to provide a living that doesn’t include qualifying for federal aid programs to feed your children.

So while we wait for our policy makers to find the will – and the funds – to pay teachers what they’re worth, we can all show a little love to the teachers who have made a difference. You may not have the chance to run into them at the grocery store or on Facebook, but you can still thank them for all that they do.

Over the past couple weeks, teachers (and those who love them) have turned to Twitter using #evaluatethat to share the many ways – big and small – that teachers make a difference in students’ lives. The hashtag takes a swipe at the notion that standardized tests and evaluation formulas can assess a teacher’s quality and effectiveness.

Take a moment to tweet your own #evaluatethat story, write a note to your child’s teacher, or track down that educator who made a difference for you. Feeling appreciated and valued won’t help teachers pay their bills, but it sure still feels good – even 18 years later.

Moral Monday: Paying for Good Schools

In my previous job, I had the good fortune to find myself often attending meetings with Dudley Flood. You can read his full bio here, but he's served in a range of education roles from 8th grade teacher to associate superintendent for the NC Department of Public Instruction, where he retired in 1990. He holds degrees in education from NC Central University, East Carolina University and Duke University. In short, he's got the credentials and the experience to know what he's talking about when it comes to education.

But beyond his resume, Dr. Flood is a great storyteller -- and he weaves a fascinating tale of what he's seen over decades of involvement in public education. One of my favorite comments that I recall hearing in his speeches goes something like this:

People always say you can't just throw money at a problem. But just once, I'd like to try it out and see what happens.

That's what I want to say to our state legislature this week, as they prepare to pass a budget that strips ever more funding away from our public schools. Actually, what I really want to say to them isn't fit to print, so I'll just start with that.

Now of course, I don't actually mean throw the money. I don't mean like a pinata where the kids scramble to stuff their pockets with loose change.

What I mean is this: What would happen if we funded public education so that:

• Teachers were paid as true professionals, particularly those with graduate degrees and extensive experience, to demonstrate the value of the job?
• Schools were built to comfortably seat all the students and provide adequate teaching space for all classes?
• Schools struggling to meet students' needs got extra assistance, including instructional coaches, literacy specialists and customized professional development for all faculty and staff?
• Classes were small enough for teachers to be able to differentiate instruction and really address students' needs, or teacher assistants staffed most classrooms to supplement instruction and help manage the workload?

I want to know what that would look like. I want my tax dollars to go toward making those things happen. I want to live in a state that makes those kind of commitments.

But instead, North Carolina gets a General Assembly that:

• Eliminates salary increases for teachers with advanced degrees starting in 2014 and teachers have only had one pay increase (a measly 1.2%) since 2008. Because why would you want to encourage and reward educators for pursuing more education? They're only teaching your children, after all.
• Argues to remove building authority from local school boards, threatening the passage of upcoming school bonds (thankfully it appears this bill is dead, although it's had more lives than a cat).
• Funds a $10 million voucher program (in the first year) to give some families "a way out" to leave for private schools without addressing any of the problems or challenges facing students and teachers in the public schools left behind.
• Removes caps on class sizes and eliminates teacher assistants in 2nd and 3rd grades. If you've ever been the only adult in a room with 30 seven-year-olds for more than an hour, you know this is a bad idea.

It may be true that throwing money around won't fix anything. But depriving schools of the basics needed to get the job done sure as hell doesn't solve anything either.

Instead, targeting money at real solutions could make a world of difference: Ensuring teachers earn enough money that their children don't qualify for medicaid, constructing facilities that get students out of trailers and into well-equipped classrooms, coaching schools in research-based practices to make them more effective at reaching every child, creating environments that encourage learning and generate productive working conditions.

That's not throwing money around -- that's called investing.

Would You Send Your Child to School Wearing This?

One of the unfortunate ironies about blogging is that people with the best stories or the most interesting lives are often too busy living those lives to have time to write down any of those stories.

So today, I bring you a guest post via an email from a friend who is a high school social studies teacher. For the purposes of this post, we'll call her Ms. T (so as not to get her fired because she's an excellent teacher and goodness knows we can't afford to lose her) -- otherwise, the story is relayed here (in italics) as she shared it.

A freshman boy (yes, a 14-year-old) in my 4th period was wearing a t-shirt today that said: “Boobies make me happy.”

I’m not sure what is the worst part of this scenario:

1. That he, and possibly his parents, thought this shirt was appropriate for school.
2. That he got rude with and then yelled at the SRO [school resource officer, basically school police] who spoke with him about the shirt being appropriate after I sent the student to the office.
3. When the student’s administrator was called (after the yelling) and told what the shirt said, the MALE ADMINISTRATOR said to the school secretary, “Well, they do.”

So there you have it. And people wonder why teachers feel under-paid and under-respected.

______________

Note: When I did a Google search to see if I could find the shirt (available from Cafe Press), I also found a series of the same shirt with the breast cancer ribbon included in the background. I'd like to believe that this particular kid was just showing his support for breast cancer survivors, but somehow (call me cynical) I don't think that's really the statement he was trying to make.
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Lessons Learned, But No Easy Answers (Part 2)

Continued from Part 1

I don't know if my students believed me or not -- some probably still thought that I'd rather be teaching a room full of little white brunette girls, but I think most of them understood my point. Most of us would be offended if someone accused us of only associating with "our own kind" because we'd assume they were calling us racist. But the truth is that we all do that, it just depends on whether we define our "kind" by politics or race or motherhood or economic status or favorite hobby or faith or whatever category fits at the moment.

During lunch with Shana, I was reminded of that classroom experience -- one of those ordinary days that took me off my lesson plans and into serious discussion for this young teacher and her students. It's so easy to stay in our "own communities," however we define them -- it's safe and comfortable and sometimes even important. And enjoying that comfortable space does not by definition make us racist or classist or any other-ist. But it's not an honest way to live a whole life.

My teaching career at West Charlotte lasted for only two jam-packed years, but the impact stays with me because those years took me out of that comfortable space into a place where I was constantly learning. From honest discussions with a whole class like that one about Mr. Lindner to personal conversations with students like Shana to defending my students in front of other faculty, West Charlotte changed me. The school has a rich history as one of the few black schools that stayed open during integration -- alumni from decades back still take pride in their time at WC.

West Charlotte's success was not because of its diversity. It was successful because the school was filled with administrators, teachers, students, parents and alumni who were committed to making it a great school -- but part of what attracted all those people to the school, part of what made everything work was its diversity.

No one claims that the school was perfect, but West Charlotte served as a national model for integration in the 1970s and 80s, avoiding the violence witnessed in other cities at the time and bringing together students who otherwise might never have crossed paths. Today, with the community-based assignment "choice" plan in place since 2002, West Charlotte's student body has become mostly black and mostly poor, and the school has endured significant and painful turn-over among teachers and administrators.

* * *

I'd invited Shana to lunch that day because I trusted her, trusted that she would be honest with me. I'm well aware that, as a white, middle-class woman who attended predominately white schools as a student, my voice can sound really different than hers in the discussion around issues of diversity in schools. What I found in our conversation was common ground.

"Being at West Charlotte affected who I am," Shana told me. "Even in middle school, I always made sure I had friends who didn't look like me. Now I want that for my kids -- it's important for them to have that in their schools." She shared stories about her two children -- her son has experienced greater diversity in his preschool and elementary school classes than his younger sister has at a different preschool. Shana already sees differences in their behavior and is disappointed for her daughter.

As moms, we both want our children to be close to home. Because Shana is a teacher, her son attends the school where she works -- but if she weren't teaching, she told me she would not want her son riding the bus across the county in the name of diversity. And yet we both agreed that sending our kids to schools "in their own communities," to borrow a phrase from Hansberry, wasn't the solution. From a practical teacher's perspective, we know that students in high-poverty schools won't get the resources they need over the long term. But through our vision as moms, it's something even bigger than funding: We want our children to learn from each other, to learn with each other, so that they can understand the world both as it is and as it could be.

Turns out that Shana didn't have the answers either -- and that became the profound lesson for me from our conversation over lunch. There is no silver bullet. There is no simple solution. And anyone who tells you there's an easy way to make all this work is either lying or fooling themselves.

Wake County's approach to maintaining diverse schools for the past few decades wasn't perfect. But moving to a system that isolates students into high-poverty schools is not the answer. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times -- it's NOT about having rich kids sitting next to poor kids or about white kids sitting next to black kids. It's NOT about finding that one brilliant school that defies the odds and turns into another Stand and Deliver movie to cheer about, while other schools collapse under the weight of those same challenges. It's NOT about spreading kids around in order to hide their poverty or their race or their test scores.

I believe in setting an entire school up for success instead of stacking the deck against everyone in the building. I believe in using our very limited resources in the most efficient and effective way possible to help all students achieve their best. I believe in the importance of a strong principal and empowered teachers in every school to give students the tools they need. I believe in making every single school in the district a safe and effective teaching and learning environment so that any parent would be happy at any school. And I believe that these things are not possible in a district divided into high-poverty and low-poverty schools.

This is not a partisan issue; this is a community issue. And on this issue, I do not define "my own community" as Lakemont or Midtown or North Raleigh -- my community is all of Wake County, including every one of the 140,000 school children within the district. It's not enough for my kids to be fine -- and I really do believe that they will be fine in spite of all this mess. The public schools -- and the board that sets the policies for those schools -- must work for all children.

Lessons Learned, But No Easy Answers (Part 1)

When I took my first teaching job, I was 22 and working at West Charlotte High School with 11th grade students who were only about five years younger. The phrase "trial by fire" doesn't begin to capture that year, as many first-year teachers will tell you. When the students walked into my room on the first day, one of them looked me up and down quizzically, then blurted out the question everyone was thinking: "You the teacher?"

I had a lot to prove that year, partly due to my age and inexperience, but also because I was a white teacher in a historically black high school. Thankfully I found strong teachers in my department to guide me and I had some wonderful students who (maybe without knowing it) gave me as much encouragement as I tried to give them. I survived and even came back for a second year before school leadership changes required me to find a different school.

That was 15 years ago. Last month I had lunch with one of my students from that first year -- we've stayed in touch off and on over the years, even before the magic of Facebook. Shana is now a mom and a teacher in the Wake County Public School System. She's also African-American -- and not shy about laughing along with me about my severe and profound whiteness. I figured she would have a unique perspective on all this diversity vs. neighborhood schools mess, given where she went to school and what she can see now as a teacher and a parent. I was looking for answers and hoping she might have them.

 * * *

During my years at West Charlotte, my favorite lessons came from a unit I developed about Harlem Renaissance poetry and the Lorraine Hansberry play A Raisin in the Sun, named for a line from a Langston Hughes poem called "A Dream Deferred." The play revolves around a black family in the 1950s and what happens when the family's matriarch buys a house in a white neighborhood (not to make a statement, but simply because the house happens to be cheaper).

When Karl Lindner, a representative from the white neighborhood association, comes to their apartment and offers to buy them out, he says: "...I want you to believe me when I tell you that race prejudice simply doesn't enter into it. It is a matter of the people of Clybourne Park believing, rightly or wrongly, as I say, that for the happiness of all concerned that our Negro families are happier when they live in their own communities."

Their own communities. That's the line that jumped off the page for me. My students immediately hated Lindner, branding him an obvious racist. And they were right. But then I posed a question.

I asked my students if they stayed in "their own communities" when they were on campus -- in the cafeteria, during football games, after school in the parking lot. Well, sure...but those are our friends, they protested, that's different. And they turned the question back to me.

"For real, Ms. S. Wouldn't you rather just teach students who are like you?"

"Yes," I replied. "I would."

My students looked at me like I might be even crazier than they'd suspected, before I continued: "I'd rather teach students who are interested in school, who like learning, who pay attention in class, who do their homework on time and ask good questions. That's my school community -- that's a student who's like me."

* * *
(To be continued...)

Thursday Soapbox: The Public's Schools

I have a confession to make: As the mother of a rising kindergartner, there's a tiny part of me that hopes all the "neighborhood schools" candidates get elected to the Wake County Board of Education on Oct. 6. You see, as a mom, I'd really love for my son (and, in a few more years, my daughter) to attend the elementary school in our neighborhood.

What's not to love? We could walk to school in 20 minutes, joining with our friends along the way to form a daily elementary school parade. He would be in school with kids he knows, whose parents I know. He'd be at a "good" school that's safe, familiar, stable and on a traditional calendar. Norman Rockwell himself would probably want to paint a picture of it all.

Even before I became a mom, I couldn't fault the parents who complain about (and then form yet another group to fight) annual reassignments that resulted in instability, uncertainty and sometimes long drives for families around the county. Now that I am a mom, I understand their concerns in a whole new way.

But I know too much. I am more than a mom -- a former teacher, a public education advocate, a citizen, a taxpayer -- and I cannot in good conscience support an approach that will lead to the re-segregation of schools, no matter how lovely my personal scenario might seem through the eyes of motherhood.

As a parent, my job is to do what is in the best interest of my own child. But the teachers, administrators and elected officials in our community? Their job is to do what is in the best interest of ALL children, regardless of what neighborhood they live in or who their parents are.

There are plenty of arguments on all sides of the debate around "supporting diverse schools" or "supporting neighborhood schools" (which aren't mutually exclusive in theory, but generally are opposites in practice). I don't have the time or energy or clarity of thought to wade through them all. But here are few things that, from research and personal experience, I know to be true:

• Schools with high concentrations of poverty have a harder time being successful than schools with fewer low-income students. It's not some kind of hogwash about having poor kids sit next to rich kids so they can learn better. It's simply that students living in poverty, no matter how smart they are, come with additional challenges (like being hungry or not having adequate health care or having a single parent who can't be home much because she's working two jobs) that schools must try to address.
  
  
• Schools with high concentrations of poverty tend to have higher rates of teacher turnover because they're tougher places to teach. That usually means more teachers with less experience and a general instability within the school culture, which means that teachers suffer and students suffer. And that's all students in the school, not just the poor ones. Studies suggest that students in poor and minority schools are twice as likely to have an inexperienced teacher and are 61 percent more likely to be assigned an uncertified teacher.
  
  
• Advocates for a "neighborhood schools" approach who claim that additional funding will be given to schools in poor neighborhoods to help them overcome their challenges are full of crap. Particularly in today's world of slashed budgets, the money won't be there -- or if it does come, it won't last long. And, unless you're Geoffrey Canada in the Harlem Children's Zone, it won't be enough to make a difference.
  
  
• Wake County's diversity policy is imperfect -- and I think the district sometimes does a poor job of implementing the policy, leaving families feeling ignored and snubbed -- but maintaining integrated schools is the right goal. The district is not "out to get" anyone and derives no pleasure from disrupting parents' vision of how school should be. They are simply wrestling with making the best decisions they can in support of the nearly 140,000 students in the district.
  

As for the election on Oct. 6, unfortunately I don't get to vote because I don't live in one of the districts on this year's ballot. If you are eligible to vote, I certainly don't presume to tell you who to vote for and am not endorsing any candidates. But I hope that, regardless of where you live, you'll consider that, as parents, we have the luxury making decisions based on our own children. Our school districts must consider all the children at once.

* * *

I may have to write on this topic again -- I've been struggling with this post for weeks and am still not satisfied. It's a complicated issue and I'm inclined to wander off on a million different tangents. In the meantime, if you'd like more information, read Making Choices, a report I co-wrote in 2003 when I worked at Wake Education Partnership, or Striking a Balance, a 2008 report from the same organization. And feel free to comment, argue, debate -- just be polite about it.

Online Music Monday

We're having a beautiful time at the beach, although I'm grouchy this morning because apparently my daughter didn't get the memo about sleeping late and taking long naps on vacation.

Thankfully, I had a link to this video from a friend on Facebook to cheer me up:


As budgets shrink across the country, school districts are facing tough decisions about cutting teaching positions and eliminating courses. In some cases, that means getting "back to basics" by focusing on reading and math. I'm a former English teacher, so I appreciate attention to reading -- and numerous studies have shown that a student's future academic success is dependent on learning to read by third grade. But a focus on reading and math at the expense of science, social studies, foreign language and the arts comes at a price.

The following quote is from an article about how the P.S. 22 chorus became celebrities on the Internet and got to meet some of the artists whose songs they've covered (like Tori Amos, Stevie Nicks and Rhiannon):

"As for fame, aside from some local-hero treatment on Staten Island, getting spoiled by stardom isn’t an option, thanks to the bittersweet realities of P.S. 22, which runs only through fifth grade; most of the current group graduated from the school and the chorus last month. 'I’m devastated,' says Milagros Vega, whose daughter, Mariah Baez, is an alto. 'I want to hold her back.' Mariah typifies the benefits of working with Breinberg: Confidence skyrockets and grades improve. 'Mariah has more friends and is so much more expressive' Vega says."

"Confidence skyrockets and grades improve." The ability to sing songs by The Cure might not get tested by No Child Left Behind (NCLB), but the significance of being excited about learning and having opportunities for success can't be measured by standardized tests.


Gregg Breinberg (a.ka Mr. B), who started the chorus at P.S. 22 in 2000, has a blog about the group and their performances. Check it out -- more than 9 million people have already watched their videos. I just hope that, when it comes to supporting public schools through volunteer time or taxes and bonds, all those viewers will remember what our teachers and students can accomplish when given the support they need.

Photo from PS22 Chorus blog.

National Teacher Day

In addition to being Cinco de Mayo (in case you needed an excuse for a Corona), Tuesday is also National Teacher Day and part of Teacher Appreciation Week. As a community service message for my former colleagues, I'd like to take this opportunity to say two things:

1. You really don't have to buy anything for your teachers (most of them don't need another apple-shaped coffee mug, unless it comes loaded with a Starbucks gift card). But bringing in some flowers from your yard or a container of cookies is always a nice idea.
   
   
2. Teaching is a rough job, and it's really easy for a teacher to get overwhelmed by the bad things and forget about the good things. If there's a teacher in your life -- past or present -- who had a positive impact, take a few minutes today to let him or her know.
   

I was a high school teacher for four years -- it was, in some ways, as exhausting and incredible as being a parent. Now that I've been out of teaching for nearly a decade (where does the time go?!), I have special memories (and occasional nightmares) of my time in the classroom. I also still have treasured notes from former students and their parents (including my signed yearbooks) that remind me of the good things I did while I was there.

So for National Teacher Day 2009, give a teacher a good memory instead of a mug.