how we got here

First Person: My local school didn’t teach my son the way I hoped it would. To tackle segregation, we need to talk about that, too

PHOTO: Reena Shah
The author's son.

Nikole Hannah-Jones’s recent New York Times Magazine article, “Choosing a School for My Daughter in a Segregated City,” struck a chord. “This city has made integration the hardest choice,” she writes. Unfortunately, as both a parent and a teacher, I know that is true.

New York City schools are not just segregated by race and class, but also divided by pedagogy — how teaching and learning happens in a classroom. What often goes undiscussed is how how parents from different backgrounds often hold different beliefs about what learning should look like and choose schools accordingly, yet another factor fueling school segregation.

I spent years teaching in schools where most students came from low-income families and were black or Hispanic. I fought against the narrow and sometimes joyless approach to basic skill development that many school officials promoted as the best way to bridge the achievement gap. Even before I was a mother, I often asked myself if I would want my child sitting in my own classroom.

Still, there are pedagogical silos in New York, and the skill-and-drill approach is more prevalent among schools that serve mostly low-income families. As the city begins a few efforts meant to better integrate its schools, families and educators need to talk more about our often starkly different ideas about what makes a school “good.”

When Hannah-Jones and her husband chose P.S. 307, a school outside of their zone, she writes that she was fueled by her desire to play a part in integrating that school economically. She was also influenced by seeing that students there played musical instruments, had access to an advanced science and technology program, and benefitted from the school’s strong leadership.

My own story of choosing a school for my child is complicated and marked by some of the same impulses, though it didn’t work out the same way.

My son attended pre-kindergarten in a school that largely serves low-income students, especially in the upper elementary grades. We started the school year intending for him to remain there as long as our family stayed in the neighborhood. We liked the principal and thought it was important to support our zoned school — that such actions were in line with our ideals.

My child had a warm teacher who he loved, but the classroom environment proved to be a challenge. Though his teacher was aiming for a play-based environment guided by children’s questions, as a new teacher, she understandably struggled to set expectations for children’s behavior, and I wasn’t sure she was getting the support she needed.

The school was also still working out what kind of instruction it wanted to see. While some classrooms, like the science lab, showed signs of active use with meaningful student work on the walls, others showed few signs of what children were actually creating and working on. Looking ahead to kindergarten, I became increasingly concerned about the amount of time such young children spent filling in worksheets, the early introduction of homework, and the school’s preoccupation with testing.

Unlike Hannah-Jones’s description of her daughter during her first year in school, my son was not flourishing. By the spring, he no longer wanted to go to school.

I was torn, because I valued the school’s sense of community, the music program, and the administration’s openness to parents. But for my child, who often had difficulty focusing, the teaching practices weren’t working.

I eventually secured a seat for him at the school where I also ultimately took a job, a decision that left me relieved but also conflicted. Had my son’s experience been more positive, our choice would have been different. But when your child would benefit from a different kind of teaching, what are the right decisions then?

Of course, having the resources and knowledge to even ask this question has become a privilege in New York City, where navigating the system can easily become a full-time job. While many schools talk about their progressive practices, their interpretations range from children deciding on their own units of study to the repetitive skill-and-drill activities used by many large charter networks. Parents are asked to figure out what school environment will be best for their children amid a flurry of conflicting information.

This year, the Department of Education has allowed seven public schools, including the one where I work, to embark on a pilot program that alters admissions to promote integration. The program is a good thing, and has already diversified the incoming kindergarten classes.

These efforts also make it even more important to find ways to talk about what families expect. Some will want more recess. Some want more structure. Some want to take the state tests and others don’t. Some want to see more reading and writing in kindergarten, others find this developmentally inappropriate, and still others are unsure. These differences are shaped by our own experiences in school systems, our aspirations for our children, our backgrounds, and, in some cases, our individual children and their needs, strengths, and challenges.

Other assumptions about what makes a school good are destructive, especially the idea that the affluence of a school’s families can serve as marker of its quality. Hannah-Jones points to a few disturbing ideas voiced by parents who were rezoned from P.S. 8, the wealthy Brooklyn Heights school, to P.S. 307. Several parents seemed to believe that when a school serves poor children, that school is compromised and not as safe — a gross generalization.

Yet, for school integration to be successful, we have to find ways to talk about what does matter: our beliefs about what teaching and learning should look like in our children’s classrooms. We have to be willing to engage in these discussions as parents and educators without feeling defensive about what we believe to be right. We have to decide when advocating for our own child could support other children, and when it is potentially at the expense of other children. Once we learn how to do that, New York will be closer to having more integrated schools.

This post is part of a new series we’re calling How We Got Here, explaining how students and families chose, or ended up at, the schools they did. Interested in contributing? Email us here.

First Person

Two fewer testing days in New York? Thank goodness. Here’s what else our students need

PHOTO: Christina Veiga

Every April, I feel the tension in my fifth-grade classroom rise. Students are concerned that all of their hard work throughout the year will boil down to six intense days of testing — three for math and three for English language arts.

Students know they need to be prepared to sit in a room for anywhere from 90 minutes to three hours with no opportunity to leave, barring an emergency. Many of them are sick to their stomachs, feeling more stress than a 10-year-old ever should, and yet they are expected to perform their best.

Meanwhile, teachers are frustrated that so many hours of valuable instruction have been replaced by testing, and that the results won’t be available until students are moving on to other classrooms.

This is what testing looks like in New York state. Or, at least it did. Last month, state officials voted to reduce testing from three days for each subject to two, to the elation of students, parents, and teachers across New York. It’s an example of our voices being heard — but there is still more to be done to make the testing process truly useful, and less stressful, for all of us.

As a fifth-grade teacher in the Bronx, I was thrilled by the news that testing time would be reduced. Though it doesn’t seem like much on paper, having two fewer days of gut-wrenching stress for students as young as eight means so much for their well-being and education. It gives students two more days of classroom instruction, interactive lessons, and engagement in thought-provoking discussions. Any reduction in testing also means more time with my students, since administrators can pull teachers out of their classrooms for up to a week to score each test.

Still, I know these tests provide us with critical data about how students are doing across our state and where we need to concentrate our resources. The changes address my worries about over-testing, while still ensuring that we have an objective measure of what students have learned across the state.

For those who fear that cutting one-third of the required state testing hours will not provide teachers with enough data to help our students, understand that we assess them before, during, and after each unit of study, along with mid-year tests and quizzes. It is unlikely that one extra day of testing will offer any significant additional insights into our students’ skills.

Also, the fact that we receive students’ state test results months later, at the end of June, means that we are more likely to have a snapshot of where are students were, rather than where they currently are — when it’s too late for us to use the information to help them.

That’s where New York can still do better. Teachers need timely data to tailor their teaching to meet student needs. As New York develops its next generation of tests and academic standards, we must ensure that they are developmentally appropriate. And officials need to continue to emphasize that state tests alone cannot fully assess a student’s knowledge and skills.

For this, parents and teachers must continue to demand that their voices are heard. Until then, thank you, New York Regents, for hearing us and reducing the number of testing days.

In my classroom, I’ll have two extra days to help my special needs students work towards the goals laid out in their individualized education plans. I’ll take it.

Rich Johnson teaches fifth grade at P.S. 105 in the Bronx.

First Person

My high school told me to apply to 100 colleges — and I almost lost myself in the process

PHOTO: Stephanie Snyder

High schools have become obsessed with “million-dollar scholars,” and it’s hurting students.

Across Memphis, students often are pushed by counselors to apply to as many colleges as possible — as many as 100 — all to push students to reach that million-dollar scholarship mark. The more dollars and college acceptance, the better!

I graduated in 2016, and my experience offers a case study.

I’m a pretty well-rounded individual: In high school, I was a finalist in the Let’s Innovate Through Education program and was able to launch SousChef-Memphis, a culinary nonprofit organization. I was a dual-enrollment student and took honors courses. I was committed to community service. I was vice president of my high school organization, Modern Distinctive Ladies. I was on the bowling team, managed the basketball team, and participated in debate forensics and drama.

I was also told by counselors to apply to 100 colleges. I was never told why that number was chosen, but my peers were told the same. We were often pulled out of class to complete these applications, which took away from instructional time — about an hour per day. My high school also ran on an infraction system, and not turning in college applications and other documents led to disciplinary actions.

The quality of those applications only shed a dim light on the student and person that I am. A hundred applications was never my goal. A hundred applications doesn’t measure the capability, intelligence or worth of me as a student. A hundred applications is just ridiculous!

Schools with similar approaches, though, get glowing media coverage. Meanwhile, a lot of that scholarship money is irrelevant, since a single student obviously can only attend one school.

I think that if I had been counseled properly, I would have had a better grasp on my high school-to-college transition. I ultimately chose to leave Memphis to attend another state university on a full scholarship. Looking back, that school was not the best fit for me. I returned to Memphis to attend our local public university.

A counselor never tried to determine what the absolute best school for me would be. I wasted a lot of time, money and resources trying to figure that out. And I almost lost myself in the process.

I was more than capable of getting back on track, and I did. But not every student can afford to go through what I went through.

High schools need to realize that, while students amassing millions of dollars in scholarships and hundreds of college acceptance letters seems like an accomplishment, the outcome for many students is the total opposite.

Too many students end up not going to a school that is the best fit for them, taking on piles of debt, and dropping out with no workforce experience.

The goal should be that each high school student will graduate having a grasp on their career path (and experience in that field), scholarships to the school of their choice (full rides or little to no debt), and be confident in where they will be spending the next four to six years of their life. Being thorough in the college search and submitting quality applications is what leads to a college that is the best fit for the student, obtaining scholarships, and ultimately graduating.

Here’s what I wish a counselor had told me:

"It is time to start thinking about quality over quantity. Quality counseling. Quality applications. And quality choices about what to do next."Anisah Karim

Try things you like, but don’t overload yourself. Look for summer internships that pay, rather than minimum-wage jobs. Build a network of people who can help you make good decisions about college and work. Research schools with a major you’re interested in, and find out what scholarships they offer. Keep an eye on your GPA and make sure you’re taking the classes you need to graduate. Apply for colleges when applications open and submit the FAFSA form in October.

And most importantly, through all four years of high school, don’t be afraid to ask for help.

It is time to start thinking about quality over quantity. Quality counseling. Quality applications. And quality choices about what to do next.

Anisah Karim is a psychology student at the University of Memphis. She plans to continue her education in speech pathology and otology and eventually start her own private practice. She also plans to launch two new business ventures in the fall and relaunch SousChef in the fall of 2018.