First Person

What I learned from cobbling together my own community school

PHOTO: The Children's Aid Society
Summer camp at the community school at Mirabal Sisters Campus in Washington Heights includes a field trip to a local farm.
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I wish my school had been a community school.

In 2002, I was appointed principal of P.S. 230 in the South Bronx. It was failing because of many of the ills that plague other struggling schools: leadership turnover, demoralized teachers, the debilitating consequences of extreme poverty.

With a great deal of focus and relentless effort, we began to turn things around. But I had to seek out individual partners to provide engaging after-school programs and mentors for our students. I had to organize a group of parents to lead and involve other parents. I did not have any kind of truly comprehensive support for students.

Ultimately, our test scores climbed from single digits to well past citywide averages. And with our collective efforts, we were freed from the State Education Department’s “failing school” list.

I left the school, and in the years following my departure, P.S. 230’s test scores rose and fell. But left without the long-term, systemic support those kids and their community needed, those academic gains were essentially impossible to sustain. The school was eventually shuttered.

I later joined The Children’s Aid Society, where I now oversee 18 community school partnerships, because I saw how powerful collaboration could be between schools and youth development organizations. I supervise dedicated staff who partner with school staff, parents and caregivers, and a slew of other community-based partners in these New York City public schools, four of which are “Renewal” schools and one a public charter school.

Too often, the loudest voices in the public discourse suggest a false distinction between teaching and the barriers to learning our students face. It’s clear to me that for schools serving children from low-income neighborhoods to succeed — and sustain that academic success — we need to address both.

As partners, we do work that helps children fully access the benefits of high-quality teaching. Like other Renewal School partner organizations, we provide academic support and critical programs that strengthen well-being: medical, dental, and mental health services; family stabilization; and parent engagement activities.

I see this clearly at I.S. 219 in the Bronx, one of the Renewal schools that Children’s Aid began partnering with less than two years ago.

While the school still has much improving to do, things are improving dramatically. A school that struggled with chronic absenteeism now has five hard-working Success Mentors, each staying in close contact with 10 to 12 students to ensure they get to school every day and are in the classes throughout the day. These mentors have built relationships with some of the hardest to reach students and their families, re-engaging their sense of hope and possibility for their own futures. Those are chances my students at P.S. 230 didn’t have.

On top of that, we set up a new family resource center. I.S. 219’s parents and caregivers attend workshops on healthy living and on positive communication, among other topics. Most importantly, though, they are in the building, participating in the education and lives of their children. Their kids see that.

These changes are showing real results. Last year an alarming 75 percent of the school’s students scored in the lowest proficiency band of our state’s English tests; only 1 percent scored at proficient and above. In 2016, 55 percent (or 20 percent fewer) students scored in that lowest band, while 10 percent scored at proficient and above.

That is real, demonstrable progress. We’re not satisfied, but we are hopeful that we’re building a foundation for sustainable academic success.

Make no mistake, improving one school — never mind 130 schools — is an intensive process that requires time, focus and tough decisions. There are no quick fixes. Both excellent academics and student support services are necessary in this battle. We couldn’t do our part without full support from parents, teachers and the principal.

Schools implementing the community school strategy also need something else: our sustained commitment. We must continue to support this strategy with urgency, while not being restricted by political deadlines that have no relationship to the time span that true reform demands.

These schools, working to solve these difficult problems, need to be released from the politics of shaming and finger pointing to remain focused on the important work in front of them. Our kids deserve no less, and the future of our city depends on it.

First Person

To close out teacher appreciation week, meet the educators whose voices help shape the education conversation

From designing puzzles to get kids fired up about French to being christened “school mama” by students, teachers go above and beyond to make a difference. Chalkbeat is honored to celebrate Teacher Appreciation week with stories of the innovation, determination, and patience it takes to teach.  
Check out a few of the educator perspectives below and submit your own here.

  1. First Person: When talking about race in classrooms, disagreement is OK — hatred is not by David McGuire, principal at Tindley Accelerated Schools and previously a teacher in Pike Township. McGuire is also a co-founder of a group called Educate ME.  
  2. First Person: What my Bronx students think about passing through scanners at school by Christine Montera, a teacher at East Bronx Academy for the Future in the Bronx. She is also a member of Educators 4 Excellence-New York.  
  3. First Person: What 100 ninth graders told me about why they don’t read by Jarred Amato, High School English teacher and founder of ProjectLITCommunity.
  4. This fourth-grade teacher doesn’t take away recess or use points to manage the class. Instead she’s built a culture of respect by Liz Fitzgerald, a fourth-grade teacher at Sagebrush Elementary and Colorado Teaching Policy fellow.
  5. First Person: Why I decided to come out to my second-grade students by Michael Patrick a second grade teacher at AF North Brooklyn Prep Elementary.
  6. Meet the teacher who helped organize the Women’s March on Denver, a profile of Cheetah McClellan, Lead Math Fellow at Denver Public Schools.
  7. First Person: At my school, we let students group themselves by race to talk about race — and it works, by Dave Mortimer, and educator at Bank Street School for Children.
  8. What Trump’s inauguration means for one undocumented Nashville student-turned-teacher a profile of Carlos Ruiz, a Spanish teacher at STRIVE Prep Excel and Teach for America fellow.
  9. First Person: ‘I was the kid who didn’t speak English’ by Mariangely Solis Cervera, the founding Spanish teacher at Achievement First East Brooklyn High School.
  10. First Person: Why recruiting more men of color isn’t enough to solve our teacher diversity problem by Beau Lancaster, a student advocate at the Harlem Children’s Zone and  Global Kids trainer teaching, writing, and developing a civic engagement and emotional development curriculum.
  11. Sign of the times: Teacher whose classroom-door sign went viral explains his message a profile of Eric Eisenstad, physics and biology teacher at Manhattan Hunter Science High School.
  12. First Person: How teachers should navigate the classroom debate during a polarizing election year  by Kent Willmann, an instructor at the University of Colorado Boulder School of Education. He previously taught high school social studies in Longmont for 32 years.
  13. First Person: I teach students of color, and I see fear every day. Our job now is to model bravery by Rousseau Mieze, a history teacher at Achievement First Bushwick charter middle school.
  14. Pumpkin pie with a side of exhaustion: Why late fall is such a tough time to be a teacher by Amanda Gonzales, a high school special education teacher in Commerce City, Colorado.
  15. This teacher was a ‘class terrorist’ as a child. Now he uses that to understand his students by Andrew Pillow a technology and social issues teacher at KIPP Indy College Prep Middle.
  16. What this teacher learned when her discipline system went awry — for all the right reasons by Trilce Marquez, a fourth-grade teacher at P.S. 11 in Chelsea.
  17. Here’s what one Tennessee teacher will be listening for in Haslam’s State of the State address by Erin Glenn, a U.S. history teacher at East Lake Academy of Fine Arts and Tennessee Educator Fellow with the State Collaborative on Reforming Education.
  18. An earth science teacher talks about the lesson that’s a point of pride — and pain a profile of Cheryl Mosier, a science teacher at Columbine High School.
  19. A national teacher of the year on her most radical teaching practice: trusting kids to handle their bathroom business by Shanna Peeples, secondary English language arts curriculum specialist for Amarillo ISD.
  20. How this teacher went from so nervous her “voice was cracking” to a policy advocate by Jean Russell, a literacy coach at Haverhill Elementary School,  2016 Indiana Teacher of the Year and TeachPlus statewide policy fellow.

First Person

I’m a black man raised on the mistaken idea that education could keep me safe. Here’s what I teach my students in the age of Jordan Edwards

The author, Fredrick Scott Salyers.

This piece is presented in partnership with The Marshall Project

I worry a lot about the students in the high school where I teach. One, in particular, is bright but struggles in class. He rarely ever smiles and he acts out, going so far recently as to threaten another teacher. As a black, male teacher — one of too few in the profession — I feel especially compelled to help this young black man reach his potential. Part of that work is teaching him the dangers that might exist for him, including the police.

The killing of Texas teenager Jordan Edwards proves, though, that it’s not just black boys with behavior issues who are in danger. Jordan — a high school freshman, star athlete and honor student — was shot dead by a police officer last month while leaving a house party. As he rode away from the party in a car driven by his older brother, officers who’d been called to the scene fired multiple rifle rounds at the car. One bullet went through the passenger window, striking Jordan in the head. Murder charges have since been filed against the officer who fired the fatal shot.

It’s a near impossible task to educate black children in a society that constantly interrupts that work with such violence. Still, it’s incumbent on educators like me to guide our students through the moment we’re living in — even when we can’t answer all their questions, and even if we’re sometimes confused ourselves.

I began teaching in 2014, the year the police killings of Eric Garner, Michael Brown, and Tamir Rice dominated headlines. The tragedies have piled on, a new one seeming to occur every month since I first stepped into a classroom. I currently teach ninth-graders at a predominantly black charter school in Brooklyn, and I often find myself struggling to make sense of the events for my students.

I’ve shown them clips from popular films like “Selma” and “Fruitvale Station” and prepared lessons on the civil rights movement, and I’ve done my best to ground it all in the subjects I was hired to teach — American history, composition, and college readiness. My hope is that these films will encourage my students to connect today’s police violence to our nation’s history of racial injustice. And, because there are no easy answers, they’ll simply be encouraged by the perseverance of those who came before them.

I can’t help but worry I’m sending them mixed messages, however, teaching them lessons on resistance while also policing their conduct day to day. As an administrator and one of few black male teachers in my school, I’m often charged with disciplining students. I find myself having a familiar talk with many of them: “get good grades,” “respect authority,” “keep your nose clean.”

It’s instruction and advice that can feel pointless when a “good kid” like Jordan Edwards can have his life cut short by those sworn to serve and protect him. Still, I try in hopes that good grades and polite behavior will insulate my students from some of society’s dangers, if not all of them.

The Monday after police killed Edwards, I asked the students in my college readiness class to watch a news clip about the shooting and write out their feelings, or sit in silence and reflect. Many of them were already aware of what happened. I was proud that so many of them were abreast of the news but saddened by their reflections. At just 14 and 15 years old, many of them have already come to accept deaths like Jordan’s as the norm, and readily expect that any one of them could be next. “Will this police officer even be fired?” one asked. “Was the cop white?”

The young man I worry about the most was more talkative than usual that day. During the class discussion, he shared his guilt of being the only one of his friends who “made it” — making it meaning being alive, still, and free. The guilt sometimes cripples him, he said, and high-profile police killings like Jordan’s compound that guilt with a feeling of hopelessness. They make him think he will die in the streets one way or another.

I didn’t know what to say then, and I still don’t have a response for him. I’ve always taught students that earning an education might exempt them from the perils of being black in America, or at least give them a chance at something more. I was raised on that notion and believed it so much that I became an educator. But deaths like Jordan’s leave me choking on the reality that nothing I can teach will shield my students from becoming the next hashtag.

In lieu of protection, I offer what I can. I provide a space for my students to express their feelings. I offer love and consideration in our day-to-day interactions and do my best to make them feel seen and, hopefully, safe for a few hours each day.

Fredrick Scott Salyers teaches at a charter high school in Brooklyn. He began his career in education as a resident director at Morehouse College. Find more of his work here.