school segregation

In Denver’s gentrifying neighborhoods, some middle-class parents are avoiding the school down the block

PHOTO: Joe Amon/The Denver Post via Getty Images
Kindergarten students from Park Hill and Stedman elementary schools meet between the two schools in January 2017 to march together in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr's visit to Denver's Montview Boulevard Presbyterian Church.

Eagleton Elementary is a block and a half away from where Brian Hilbert lives with his wife and two young children in west Denver. It’s a largely Latino working-class neighborhood that is rapidly gentrifying, and Hilbert said he values the diversity of the area.

But when it came time for the family, who identify as white and middle-class, to choose a public preschool for their 3-year-old daughter, Hilbert said their first instinct was to look at schools in wealthier parts of the city, where the test scores are higher.

“I don’t want her to lose privilege, as weird as it is,” Hilbert said of his daughter. “My pre-parenthood politics, I hate the idea of saying, ‘I want my kid to be privileged.’ On the other hand, it’s hard to say, ‘I want my kid to be disadvantaged.’”

That tension is one reason many Denver schools continue to be segregated by race and income, even as gentrification creates more diverse neighborhoods.

Unlike schools in more homogeneous neighborhoods, schools in these areas have the potential to be naturally integrated. But district data shows that’s not always happening. Instead, wealthier families – more often than low-income families – are using Denver Public Schools’ universal school choice process to send their kids to schools that are not in their neighborhood. The result is that the schools in some gentrifying parts of the city look much like they always have.

That matters because research shows integrated schools boost test scores for students of color and students from low-income families without lowering the scores of students from wealthier ones – and because wealthier parents bring more resources to the schools their children attend.

Denver Public Schools officials want to see those benefits in the district’s 200 schools. But officials also believe strongly in school choice – that is, allowing the district’s 92,600 students to “choice out” of the assigned school in their neighborhood and “choice in” to another school they feel is a better fit. Allowing families to choose can be at odds with the desire to integrate.

Interviews with white, middle-class parents provide some insight into how they’re making school choices. Some worry their children will feel isolated if they’re the only white students in their class. Others are nervous about sending their kids to a high-poverty school with low test scores. Those fears sometimes persist even when the high-poverty school has a good academic rating.

A task force of community leaders assembled by Denver Public Schools recently came up with a list of recommendations to increase school integration, including that the district should launch a communications effort to inform families about the benefits of integration.

All types of families in Denver use school choice, and the recommendation doesn’t specify which parents would be targeted by the effort. About 76 percent of Denver Public Schools students are children of color, and 24 percent are white. Two-thirds of students qualify for free or reduced-price lunch, a proxy for poverty, while one-third do not.

But some parents of color doubt a communications campaign will increase integration. Antwan Jefferson, a black parent and University of Colorado Denver education professor who served as co-chair of the task force, said the parents opting their children out of high-poverty schools don’t seem to be making those decisions based on a lack of information.

In fact, he said, it seems to be the opposite.

“Ignorance might not be the issue,” he said. “I think educating parents about the benefits of integration, it may be a veiled attempt to respond to their fear of being in these schools.”

‘I’ve heard it’s different now’

Chalkbeat sent out a survey earlier this year asking Denver parents how they choose schools for their children. It included this question: What role did student demographics of potential schools play in your decision?

We followed up with several parents who were willing to talk more. Of those who responded to our interview request, all identified as white and middle- or upper-middle class. They all said they wanted their kids to go to diverse schools.

But they acknowledged that for many parents, other factors like test scores trump diversity.

“In the abstract, everybody wants schools to be more ethnically and socioeconomically diverse,” said Elisabeth Ihler, a Denver doctor and mother of two. “But the only control you have over that as a parent is to send your child there. Everybody wants the best for their child. I think that those ideals sometimes take a hit when the rubber meets the road, so to speak, of, ‘Am I going to send my child to this school where the test scores are not as good?’”

Ihler is pleased to have found a school she believes provides both diversity and academic rigor. Her son goes to Denver Language School, a charter school that offers full immersion in Spanish and Mandarin Chinese. The school is racially diverse, but not socioeconomically diverse. While half of its 750 students are white and half are children of color, the school’s poverty rate is only 18 percent. That’s far below the district poverty rate of 67 percent.

When Ihler began searching for a school, she said people kept recommending Bromwell and Steck. Both are district-run elementary schools where the overwhelming majority of students are white and less than 15 percent are living in poverty. Test scores are high, especially for white students, and Steck is the top-rated public school in Denver this year.

“I found myself thinking, ‘Is it really the school that’s so good? Or the kids who go to that school have all these advantages going in?’” Ihler said. “That led me to widen my search.”

Robyn DiFalco had a similar experience. After moving to Denver, DiFalco said she was hoping to find an integrated school for her kids. Instead, she said she found schools where nearly all students qualified for subsidized lunches and schools where almost none did. She scratched the latter off her list and worried about the former.

“It was hard when I saw it was like 90 percent free and reduced-price lunch,” DiFalco said. She said she wondered whether students who were living in poverty might have experienced trauma that would affect their behavior and, in turn, her children’s learning environment.

She ended up sending her kids to their neighborhood boundary school, Bradley International, a highly rated school where 34 percent of students qualify for subsidized lunches. But with her oldest going into middle school next year, DiFalco found herself on the school hunt again.

One of the schools she considered was the boundary school for her neighborhood, Hamilton Middle School. When she spoke to a neighbor about the school, where a majority of students come from low-income families and identify as children of color, DiFalco said the neighbor told her, “That was not a fit for us, but I’ve heard it’s different now.”

Opting out

In the early 1970s, Denver Public Schools became the first district outside of the South to be ordered by the Supreme Court to racially integrate its schools. When busing ended more than 20 years later, in 1995, the district reverted back to a system of neighborhood boundary schools. The move was cheered at the time, but it meant a return to a familiar problem. Because Denver neighborhoods were segregated by race and income, so too were its schools.

The district has taken steps in the past decade to encourage integration. In addition to universal school choice, it created “enrollment zones,” which are expanded school boundaries designed to cross neighborhood lines. Three years ago, the district quietly began a pilot program to prioritize filling open seats at affluent district schools with students from low-income families who want to opt in. The pilot expanded this year. And some schools in changing neighborhoods are becoming more integrated without explicit nudging from the district.

But many Denver schools remain segregated.

To help the task force understand how school choice and segregation intersect, district staff made a list of schools with the biggest gaps between low-income and wealthier families opting out. Unlike in the 1970s when the integration conversation was focused on race, the district now focuses on socioeconomic status, which sometimes correlates with race, though not always.

With the exception of one school on the list, the percentage of wealthier families who leave their boundary schools is much higher.

Many of the schools are in gentrifying neighborhoods. A recent national study drew a connection between school choice and gentrification. It found that wealthier families are more likely to move into mostly black or Hispanic neighborhoods if they can opt out of the local schools.

Marina Guerrero lives across the street from one of the schools on the list: Cheltenham Elementary. Seventy-six percent of wealthier families who live in the northwest Denver neighborhood surrounding Cheltenham chose other schools last year, while only 37 percent of lower-income families did, resulting in a 39-percentage-point gap.

Guerrero’s twin boys are in third grade at Cheltenham. She’s watched as other families have been pushed out of the neighborhood by rising rents or wrecking balls. Many of the people moving into the brand-new townhomes sprouting up around her duplex don’t have children – and if they do, Guerrero said, they’re not sending them to Cheltenham.

Academically, the school is improving after a new principal ushered in much-needed changes, Guerrero said. But it’s also caught in a vicious cycle. Because Denver schools are funded per-student, the withering enrollment is sapping Cheltenham of the resources it needs to add the type of enrichment programming she feels would attract more families.

“It makes me feel powerless,” she said.

Another elementary school with a big gap is Trevista at Horace Mann, located a few miles north of Cheltenham. That neighborhood is also home to a mix of families. The city’s biggest public housing project is there, but the median price of a non-subsidized house was more than $400,000 last year, according to city records. Once a predominantly Hispanic, working-class area, it has seen an influx of wealthier, mostly white families in the last decade.

Trevista, however, is homogenous. Nearly all students qualify for free or reduced-price lunch. Out of 351 students, 260 are Hispanic, 50 are black, and just 29 are white. After years of low school ratings, Trevista has reached “green,” the second-highest rating on the district’s color-coded scale, for the past two years. The color ratings are largely based on state test scores and heavily weight year-over-year academic progress.

But Trevista’s high rating hasn’t accelerated integration.

That may change next year. Trevista is adopting a dual-language curriculum in its lower grades that it plans to roll up to the entire school over time. Starting in the fall, preschool and kindergarten classes will be taught in a combination of English and Spanish.

It’s something English-speaking parents in the neighborhood have wanted for years, said Principal Jesús Rodriguez, and the reaction has been overwhelming. Whereas in the past the school had to cancel family tours because no one showed up, every tour this year was packed. Rodriguez said he saw more white families than in the six years he’s been principal.

“I can’t make any assumptions about household income, so I won’t,” he said of the families on the tours. “But racially and ethnically, the groups have been pretty diverse.”

The move to dual-language is also an effort to better serve the 33 percent of Trevista students who are English language learners, Rodriguez said. Trevista used to have more, which allowed for a classroom at every grade to be taught in Spanish, a model known as “transitional native language instruction” that gradually shifts instruction from students’ native language to English.

But the number of English language learners at Trevista is shrinking, and this year Rodriguez had to combine 3-, 4-, and 5-year-olds into one class. Dual-language classrooms will allow Spanish-speaking students to learn alongside their same-age peers, he said.

“Hopefully it provides two ends for us: One is we are able to serve our current families well,” Rodriguez said. “And two is that we are interested in growing our school enrollment to a place where it reflects the demographics of the community at large.”

Leaving after preschool

At schools in some gentrifying Denver neighborhoods, the key to increasing integration isn’t getting local families to come to the school but convincing them to stay.

Principals of high-poverty schools where most students are children of color have noticed a pattern. White, middle-class parents who live in the neighborhood will enroll their kids for preschool, a grade for which there tend to be fewer options.

But they don’t keep them there for kindergarten. Instead, parents pull their children out and send them to schools that are whiter and wealthier – and where the test scores are higher. One place that’s playing out is in the Park Hill neighborhood, which has four elementary schools: Park Hill Elementary, Stedman Elementary, Smith Elementary, and Hallett Academy.

Ninety-six percent of Hallett students are children of color and 88 percent qualify for free or reduced-price lunch. The school is rated “red,” the lowest of Denver Public Schools’ color ratings, though Principal Dominique Jefferson was hired to turn things around.

A parent of a student in Hallett’s preschool program – often referred to as early childhood education, or ECE – recently said something Jefferson thought was profound.

“She said, ‘It shouldn’t be considered courageous for me to have chosen to send my child to Hallett. You are in our neighborhood,’” Jefferson said. “It’s interesting that she would say that. What would be more courageous would be that you chose to stay beyond ECE.”

Andrew Lefkowits followed the pattern for his oldest daughter. For a year, she attended an “advanced kindergarten” program at Stedman Elementary. Sixty-two percent of students at Stedman are from low-income families and 71 percent are children of color.

But for first grade, the family, which identifies as white and middle-class, sent her to Park Hill Elementary, which is actually their boundary school. It is also wealthier and whiter: Just 17 percent of students qualify for subsidized lunches and 30 percent are children of color.

Part of the reason, Lefkowits said, was that Stedman’s low “orange” rating made them wonder if the district might eventually close it. Park Hill Elementary is rated “green.”

“It didn’t feel like it was the time to give up our seat at Park Hill,” Lefkowits said. “I struggle with it all the time. It was not an easy choice, and I’m not sure it was the right choice.”

Lefkowits grew up in the neighborhood, attended Stedman as a child, and supports integration. He said the family is considering making a different choice for their younger daughter, who is now in the dual-language preschool program at Stedman.

Michelle Quattlebaum, a black parent who served on the district’s integration task force, doesn’t actually think integration is the best way to ensure all students get a good education – although she said children of color do benefit from integration in some ways.

When wealthier white students start attending a school, Quattlebaum said, “then money appears, and the textbooks are updated, and we get new painted walls, and the gym gets refurbished, and, oh my goodness, now there’s a computer lab.”

But she doesn’t think it should be like that. She’s also experienced the downsides of integration. Her three children attended Denver’s George Washington High School. On paper, the school looks integrated, but there has long been a divide between students in the prestigious International Baccalaureate program and students who are not.

Quattlebaum said her family chose George Washington because her oldest child was interested in the IB program. But when her daughter showed up on the first day of school, a white classmate told her she was in the wrong classroom.

“My daughter says, ‘I am in the right class,’” Quattlebaum said. “He said, ‘No, you’re black. You don’t belong in this class.’ You tell me, did integration benefit my daughter?”

Quattlebaum believes in school choice, and her family took advantage of it. And she said she doesn’t fault parents for making choices in the best interest of their kids, even if she suspects those choices may be driven by hidden biases.

But she disagrees with using choice as a way to increase integration. Instead, Quattlebaum said, the district should strive to ensure all of its schools are good schools.

“If you want integrated schools, you make every school a quality school. And then it happens.”

‘The first step’

Five days after having their second child, Brian Hilbert and his wife toured Eagleton Elementary, the neighborhood school they’d worried might not serve their 3-year-old as well as a school in a wealthier part of the city. Eagleton is “yellow,” a notch below “green.” Ninety-four percent of students come from low-income families, and 95 percent are students of color.

Hilbert and his wife were impressed. The preschool classroom was full of activities that looked fun and enriching, he said. A group of not more than 20 young students were playing together happily. The kids appeared to be from a variety of different racial backgrounds. The teacher had a master’s degree in education and two teacher’s aides to assist her.

“It looked just like a normal school and mirrored what we remember going to,” said Hilbert, who grew up in the Denver suburb of Highlands Ranch. “It put away a lot of fears we’d had.”

That was different from the feeling Hilbert’s wife had when she toured a school in a wealthier neighborhood where 70 percent of the students are white and the majority are middle-class. That school was crowded, he said, and they got the impression it’d be hard for their daughter to get in. The experience soured Hilbert on the concept of school choice.

“It’s a way of distracting from general school quality and saying to parents, ‘You have choice, so pick a better school,’” Hilbert said. “I do feel like our school is going to be an OK school.”

Hilbert found out this spring that his daughter got into the preschool at Eagleton. He’s optimistic, and yet he said that when he re-reads the school rating information, he gets nervous. Parents and students report being satisfied with the school and many students are making academic progress, but fewer are meeting expectations on state tests.

“It’s still kind of hard for me,” Hilbert said. “A lot of things, they’re not doing well on. I don’t know how to square that. Where we left off is, ‘This is the first step in our daughter’s education. And if it’s a huge problem, we’ll look at something else.’”

on the clock

After another low rating, Denver’s Manual High could face state intervention

PHOTO: Melanie Asmar/Chalkbeat
Denver's Manual High School

Denver’s storied but academically struggling Manual High School faces the possibility of state intervention next school year after earning five consecutive low ratings from the Colorado Department of Education. It is the only one of Denver’s more than 200 schools facing that risk.

Manual’s situation is noteworthy because Denver Public Schools generally has taken aggressive action toward low-performing schools before the law allows the state to step in. The district hasn’t shied away from replacing or closing struggling schools, which has earned it criticism from those who think the tactics are too harsh.

In fact, the district closed and reopened Manual more than a decade ago because of lagging test scores and declining enrollment. The controversial decision still evokes painful memories in the community. Since then, the school has cycled through leaders and repeated overhauls of its academic program.

Manual is not the first Denver school to earn five low ratings, which are based largely on annual test scores. But the other schools were either closed by the district or able to turn around their performance to avoid sanctions. District officials are confident Manual will turn it around, too.

The school has one more chance. If it earns a higher rating next year, the state will put on hold the threat of intervention, which could include conversion to a charter school or even closure. Two years of higher ratings would put Manual in the clear.

But the northeast Denver high school faces hurdles on its road to improvement, including that it doesn’t have a permanent leader. Its last principal – a charismatic Denver native and the architect of the school’s latest rebirth – resigned suddenly in March. An investigation found Nick Dawkins violated the district’s policy against harassment, discrimination, and retaliation.

The school has an interim principal and is searching for a permanent one. A search in the spring netted three candidates, but the top prospect turned down the job.

“Our focus is on making sure Manual is a great school for its students,” Superintendent Tom Boasberg said. “We’re excited and confident about Manual moving forward.”

Manual is one of the district’s oldest high schools, and its alumni include several prominent Denverites, including the city’s current mayor. Last year, it served just over 300 students, 90 percent of whom were from low-income families and 96 percent of whom were students of color.

In preliminary school ratings recently released by the Colorado Department of Education, Manual earned the second-lowest: “priority improvement,” which is coded with the color orange. The ratings are based on state tests students took in the spring.

Alumna Lainie Hodges said she’s not surprised Manual did poorly by that measure. The students went through what she called “a year of constant trauma” that started with the deaths of a fellow student and a recent graduate, and continued with a headline-grabbing controversy over whether fans of an opposing high school football team had displayed a Confederate flag during a game against Manual.

Then, a month before students were scheduled to take the state-required PSAT and SAT tests, Manual’s popular principal resigned.

“That they didn’t show up and test well, I’m not surprised at all,” said Hodges, who graduated from Manual in 1997 and until earlier this year was the board chair of the Friends of Manual High School booster group. “Is it a measure of their talent and ability? Absolutely not.”

Recent graduate Elijah Beauford said he’s not surprised by the test scores, either. He said he himself struggled with tests as a student. But he excelled at the work he did in class and at home, encouraged by teachers with whom he said he had a “genuine connection.”

Many of those teachers were people of color, as was Dawkins, the former principal. Beauford, who transferred to Manual in his junior year from a school in Aurora, said he hadn’t ever attended a school where most of the staff, and the students sitting in the honors classes, looked like him.

“Seeing people who look like me in high-ranking positions of power, it’s subconsciously and consciously empowering,” said Beauford, who graduated in 2017.

That environment helped Beauford thrive. His confidence grew, his GPA shot up, and he went from a student who struggled with reading to one who consistently won first prize at high school speech competitions around the city. Beauford, who goes by the name Young Activist, has continued to give speeches and become involved with local education advocacy groups.

“I personally believe that the school doesn’t make the students, the students make the school,” Beauford said. People say Manual has a bad reputation, he said, but the reality is that “there’s a lot of good kids there who are in bad situations but still coming to school each and every day.”

There are two big caveats to Manual’s low state rating. The first is that districts can appeal the ratings of individual schools. State officials have until December to decide.

The second caveat is that Manual’s quandary is partly Denver Public Schools’ own making. The district has its own school rating system that it considers more rigorous. In cases where Denver rates a school lower than the state, the district asks the state to use the district’s rating instead. In three of the past five years, the state lowered Manual’s rating at the district’s request.

Crucially, in 2017, the district asked the state to lower Manual’s rating from yellow to orange. Yellow would have gotten Manual off the state “accountability clock.” (The clock refers to the amount of time low-performing schools and districts have to improve before the State Board of Education can order them take action.) But an orange rating kept it on.

There was also a year when Denver rated Manual higher than the state – and the state refused to raise its rating. That also had the effect of keeping Manual on the clock.

In an interview, Boasberg was quick to point out that Manual wouldn’t be on the clock had the district not requested the state lower Manual’s ratings. However, he was also gracious about the state’s role in ensuring all Colorado schools are meeting certain standards.

“We and (the Colorado Department of Education) have exactly the same objective, which is to ensure every student at Manual gets a great education,” Boasberg said. “We have collaborated, and we continue to collaborate, closely with CDE.”

Boasberg said his confidence about Manual’s future stems from its recently revised “innovation plan,” which describes the steps the school will take to boost student performance. Manual was one of Colorado’s first “innovation schools,” which means it has permission to waive certain state and district rules, as well as parts of the teachers union contract. The idea behind innovation schools is that increased flexibility will lead to better student outcomes.

Manual’s plan, which was submitted by Dawkins, includes more time for teacher training and more opportunities for students to take college-level courses. Manual is one of 20 state-designated “early college high schools,” meaning students can earn an associate degree or up to 60 college credits by the time they graduate high school.

But a new state law aimed at reining in the cost of early colleges limits the time students can take to complete their associate degree or earn their 60 credits. As a result, Denver Public Schools is redesigning its six early college high schools, including Manual.

Manual also has a unique career education program called the Med School at Manual geared toward students interested in careers in health care. The program offers classes in topics such as human anatomy and sports medicine, as well as job shadows, field trips, and internships.

Denver Public Schools has pumped an additional $3 million into Manual since 2015 in an attempt to help improve the school’s performance. The district refers to that money as “tiered support funding,” and Manual received it because of its low school ratings.

If the school’s state rating holds steady at orange this year, and it doesn’t improve next year, its leaders will find themselves before the State Board of Education in the spring of 2020.

Hodges said she hopes state officials, when deciding which action to take, consider Manual’s rich history, its recent trauma, and district decisions that she thinks hurt the school. She said she hopes state officials see Manual as worth fighting for.

“Because we do,” she said.

Welcome Back

‘They deserve the best:’ A Denver principal talks about restarting a school in her home city

PHOTO: Courtesy John H. Amesse Elementary
Students at John Amesse Elementary smile for the camera. The school is being "restarted" this year and is now known as John H. Amesse Elementary.

Today is the first official day of school in Denver. But students at John H. Amesse Elementary in the far northeast part of the city got a head start when they returned to class last week.

Angelina Walker.
The school is undergoing a “restart” this year in an attempt to improve chronically low student test scores. John H. Amesse has a new principal, a new plan, and new flexibility over how it spends its money and time. (Hence, the early start; research has shown more time in school can boost scores for students from low-income families.) The school also has a slightly new name: It now includes the middle initial H.

We sat down with new principal Angelina Walker to talk about her passion for working in the city where she grew up and her vision for John H. Amesse, where nearly all students come from low-income families. Walker spent a year preparing for her new role. While an interim principal handled the day-to-day operations last year, Walker learned, planned, and strategized for this one as part of a turnaround strategy Denver Public Schools calls “year zero.”

“I’ve always wanted to be an educator,” she told Chalkbeat. “I knew from when I was 2 years old that I was going to be teacher. And I knew I wanted to be a teacher that opened a school. So it’s kind of just really serendipitous, but also I feel pretty privileged and blessed.”

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

What drew you to teaching, even when you were 2?

They talk about callings. I can’t describe it. I just knew. I don’t have educators in my family, so I’m not sure where it came from. But any game I ever played, anything like that, was teaching.

Did you go to school when you were very little?

I did. I’m a Denver native. I grew up in the northeast, far northeast area. When I was real little, I grew up in Park Hill, off of 35th and Elm, and I went to a little day care-slash-school a block away called Watch-Care Academy. It was a predominantly African-American school.

You said that when you applied to become a principal in Denver Public Schools, you asked to lead a school in the northeast because you wanted to serve the community where you grew up. Tell me a bit about what this community means to you.

My community means a lot to me. When I grew up – and this was back in ‘80s and ‘90s, and into the 2000’s for high school – the image that was out there, whether true or not, was that the public education system, at least in the northeast, was not that great, was unsafe.

There was a lot of gang violence, a lot of issues with our community. And out of everybody that I lived with or grew up with, I’m one of the very few that graduated high school. I have a lot of people I grew up with who are creating a life for themselves where they are, so I applaud them. But I have also seen some of the inequities in terms of society.

The importance my family placed on education really impacted and shaped the direction that I went. I mean, it did help that I loved education and I loved teaching. But being able to provide a schooling environment in my neighborhood that challenges what anybody says about our community is of utmost importance to me. Us writing our own narratives, instead of people writing our narratives for us, is very important to me.

I got into education because I wanted to be a teacher. Not necessarily to help, but just to educate, to teach. I became a principal to challenge systemic inequities. My community, they deserve the best. And so they deserve the best leader.

What have some of the challenges been at John Amesse?

Some of challenges that, generally, I have seen are lack of resources. With this turnaround, it’s really refreshing because I have gotten some resources to give kids what they deserve.

We are building a STEAM lab. (STEAM stands for science, technology, engineering, art, and math.) We have a lot of social and emotional supports. Right now, we have a psychologist, a social worker, and a social work intern. We have three members on our special education team, a full-time nurse, and the Center for Family Opportunity.

There’s a narrative out there about John Amesse that it was “a mess.” I think that the last couple of years, it’s really changed around. So really reclaiming that narrative is important.

I do think that we’ll continue – and then accelerate even more – with what the previous principal, Charmaine, did in terms of starting to look at our instruction based off of our data. So just bringing in some of those systems and tightening those up some, and having teachers own that.

We also want to maintain the culture that’s been built here. John Amesse has a wonderful, amazing culture. It’s just beautiful to walk around the school when the kids are here.

What are some of the things that make it special?

The involvement with the community has always been something that I value and I will strive hard to continue. Just celebrating kids. (In previous years, the school) did little things that we’re continuing, like celebrating attendance or shouting-out kids.

We plan on continuing a lot of the traditions – white linen lunches, and different things for kids – and adding on to them awards assemblies and things like that.

What’s a white linen lunch?

A white linen lunch is for students that have a certain percentage for their attendance. Basically, they get their lunch served to them on white linen cloths. They love it. There’s little decorations and then they get a little dessert at the end.

Can you think of an example of a really impactful conversation with a student or with a family that informed your work during your ‘year zero’?

There were a couple. I had a – we called them pop-up sessions – with a group of kids. We were in the new STEAM lab, but it was just that big, open space.

The question I put out there was, ‘If you could imagine this space to be anything you wanted it to be, what would you make it as and why?’ Then they had to create, from cut-out magazines, these pictures showing what they wanted in the space.

At first, I thought they wanted a makerspace type of area, and that’s where we were heading originally. And it basically came out that they wanted a space where they could build and explode and do different things like that – and they wanted a space where literacy was involved. Literacy, including drama and the arts.

Taking all their suggestions, I started researching and the STEAM lab is what popped out from everything they wanted. They didn’t want to do the traditional makerspace. They really wanted to have science, but then art and drama, and so that’s hopefully what our space will reflect.

The other conversation that I really remember is, I had a conversation with a parent, and the mom started crying. She was just saying that she’s really excited for the direction of the school, she feels there’s going to be solid leadership, all the typical things.

But then she really went into that she never felt that her child had been heard before. And so being able to provide that space for them to provide that feedback (through the pop-up sessions and other design opportunities) was important for this parent, in particular.

Is there an overall vision for John H. Amesse?

Our vision is really to support change-makers in our community. It’s really to get students to actualize their power and utilize that power to support the development of their community.

It’s really a grassroots kind of approach – and, with that being said, also giving them the tools they need and the access they need to navigate systems they maybe traditionally haven’t had access to. It’s just as important to be able to navigate things like PARCC (the state literacy and math tests) – those gatekeepers – so those are not barriers for them.

Can you tell me a little bit about the name change?

We didn’t want the trauma that ‘restart’ causes to have that same impact here. We did feel a name change was necessary, just to start reclaiming that narrative. Instead of being a school that’s “a mess,” putting that H in there broke up that saying.

We’re presenting ourselves in a different light. But we didn’t want to change it a whole lot because we really didn’t want to traumatize the community.

As part of the restart, John H. Amesse is now part of a school network called the Montbello Children’s Network with nearby McGlone Academy, a K-8 school that has shown a lot of academic growth. How do the schools work together?

Last year, it really started with me doing some leadership learning from McGlone and from Principal Sara Goodall, in particular. Now it’s evolved into that I have a network of school leaders I can rely on to support me with everything from professional development creation to just a general I-need-to-talk-to-someone kind of thing.

We do a lot of cross-collaboration professional development as staff. For example, this week my ECE teachers are going to McGlone and doing a network-wide training there.

Sara and I have a really close relationship, as well. This year, we’ll be meeting a couple times a week for a few hours. But we text each other, call each other all the time.

I think John H. Amesse has one of the best mascots of all Denver elementary schools, a multi-colored roadrunner. Is it going to stay?

It’s definitely staying.

Parents overwhelmingly said they didn’t want to change the mascot. We said we would honor that. Because of branding purposes with the network, we did have to change the look of the roadrunner. But we wanted to make sure the roadrunner was still there.

We also wanted to incorporate the school colors that were (previously) chosen. Going back to that whole trauma of the restart, the colors have remained the same. Their uniform shirts will be those colorful colors. They can still wear their old uniforms, and if they’re passing them on to siblings and things like that. We wanted to honor the voice of the community with that choice.

Is there anything else I haven’t asked that you want to add about what’s coming up this year, or what this restart will mean and how it will feel for families?

I really hope that it starts to feel like we’re starting to come back together as a Montbello community. And that it’s a safe place, but also a place where kids are going to be challenged academically, as well as supported socially and emotionally. And that our community feels that their voice is heard, and that they are getting the education they deserve.