The Best PD Ever: A Day With Former Students 37 Years Later

Sept. 10, 2016

 Every teacher should be so lucky to see how the lives of their students turn out even if 37 years later.  I had the immense pleasure yesterday of spending an entire afternoon with 5 students from my 5th and 6th grade class from 1978/79 at the home of Deborah, one of the students who graciously hosted the event at her lovely home in East New York in a newly developed area right behind the Gateway Mall off Erskine St.

I hadn't seen Debbie in all these years but recognized her instantly.

Debbie had been only in my 5th grade class while the rest had me for both years - I looped with them. I guess about 60-75% of the kids suffered me for 2 years. How did they manage to survive a teacher who ignored data, took them on too many trips instead of doing test prep and generally wanted them to have some fun in school. And they said yesterday that the most memorable times were those trips and other activities.

To hear them say I wasn't boring was the best evaluation I could have ever received.

I also learned that the stairway outside my room was "kissing" territory. And the gals learned who Herbie, the only guy there, had a crush on back then. (I won't tell).

This was a followup to a reunion back in February 2016 that I wrote about: Where a Group of My Former Students Pass the Highest Stakes Test of All - Life

I can't think of a better professional development experience for a teacher or even a retired teacher. Hearing about their lives as students and parents and work and so many other issues was enlightening.

They are all approaching 50. One has fairly young children. Three are grandparents. One became a grand parent at the age of 36. I heard amazing stories of perseverance in the face of the crack culture of the times, teen pregnancy and raising a child as a teen while working and going to school. Another a widow who lost her love while she had young children. Heroic.

Some brought their kids and one brought a grandchild. Another one still lives across the street from the school and keeps an eye on her grandchild who goes there where she sent her own kids. Three generations at PS 147.

Ahhh, the old soon to be lamented concept of a neighborhood school where most local kids attend and mingle and for better or worse manage to get an education.

Most of them work in areas connected to health care - as secretaries or admin assistants or hospital administrators.  One is back in school for a masters in health admin. Most own a home of condo. Many found spouses or partners from the neighborhood. When one of the gals couldn't attend the others pleaded with her to bring her wife next time.

Oh, what stories and memories of growing up in the projects in Williamsburg on Bushwick Ave, of what was then considered one of the poorest and most dangerous neighborhoods. Most of them either still live in the neighborhood or have roots there. They all attended the zoned middle school, which was considered a horror story at the time (while the kids in the top class were funneled away from that school to the one MS in the district where the top students were sent.) I tried to explain some of this to them yesterday - the tracking and sorting based solely on reading scores. Almost all of them attended Eastern District, the local high school or another high school in the area.  Some dropped out at one point before finding their way back.

Some of them told how their parents when they were born had given them a Spanish name and the hospital ignored them and they have lived under the way the person in the hospital named them.

They talked about a dangerous but real community, a spirit they felt growing up in those projects. One who still lives there told me how the drug culture had lessened but the hipster gentrifiers had ironically brought some of that drug culture back. 

We are planning another one as they search for more students from those classes. The principal of PS 147 told me a few months ago she would love to host some alumni.

The February reunion and my poor attempt at a selfie

Running into a Former Student

With all the attacks on teachers, there are times when even I begin to question things I did as a teacher. Did I really put children first? Or was I just acting like a selfish adult?

I was at Long Island University on Friday in downtown Brooklyn to tape two former charter school parents for a final segment to our movie. We were waiting in the lobby for Leonie Haimson who was doing the interview. She was a little late. And I was glad she was. A woman was walking by and said, "Mr. Scott?" I looked at her. "It's Milagros," she said.

The minute she said her name I recognized her but wasn't sure from which year (they all run together now.) "You were in my 6th grade class, right?" "5th and 6th," she said. Poor girl, suffering me for two years. Yes, it came back quickly. I only moved up with a class twice. This was the '77 and '78 class. She must be in her 40's. Oy!

I had two great years with them, especially the 2nd year when there was no need to spend a month on routines. We really got rolling from the first day back.

And she was a pleasure to have in class. She told me she still lives in the old neighborhood. I had run into Milagros when she brought her young son to our school in the 90's. "Don't you have a son," I asked? "He's 22 now."Double Oy! "And I have an eleven year old too. I've been trying to find you on Facebook," she said. I gave her my card. "Oh," I asked as she started to walk away, "what are you doing here?" "I work in the library." YES! One after another as I run into former students I find they have jobs and careers. We weren't total failures as the ed deformers would have the world believe.

She started to walk away again, turned and came back, semi-whispering: "You were my favorite teacher."

Milagros, you made my day, week, month and maybe year. And best of all – she recognized me.

While I'm bragging: Here is a comment from another former student from the class of '82. This was the same 4th grade class that Ernie Silva, the actor, was in. I wrote a review of his one man show on Feb. 27 where I made the point that the role of teachers are overrated by the ed deformers (with evil intent) and Diane P. saw it on Facebook and left this comment on the blog:

Mr. Scott,

This review brought me to tears. As our fourth grade teacher (yes, we are all about 39 now YIKES) you were probably THE most influential teacher we had. Your grace and love for each of us still lives in our hearts today. It's ok to take pride in all our successes... you are a piece in our past that shaped our future! Thank you from your 39 year-old student.

Diane P.
class of 81-82

Of course in today's ed deform world, what's love got to do with it?
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Check out Norms Notes for a variety of articles of interest: http://normsnotes2.blogspot.com/. And make sure to check out the side panel on right for news bits.

Former Student — Ernie Silva's "Heavy Light the Weight of a Flame" Returns to NYC This Week

Heavy Returns to New York!! 
July 28th thru August 1st. Tix 10$

Wednesday, July 28, 2010 at 8:00pm
Teatro La Tea (LA Tea Theater), New York, NY
107 Suffolk Street
New York, NY 10002-3387
(212) 529-1948

 A GREAT SHOW FOR TEACHERS TO SEE

"Contrary to the Ed Deformers, I do not take the position that teachers are the major influences in these kids' lives, but are small pieces of a very large jigsaw puzzle."

I wrote the above in the April 16 edition of The Wave where I wrote about going to see Ernie Silva's one man show (Ernie Silva Show an Allegory for Why Achievement Gap and Teacher Quality Are Phony Issues, Updated) about his journey out of the streets of Williamsburg to his life as a comedian and performer. Ernie was in my 4th grade class back in the early 80's and I hadn't seen him in 25 years. Ernie is back in town performing his one man show "Heavy Like the Weight of a Flame" July 28 through August 1 at La Tea Theater (Teatro La Tea (LA Tea Theater) 107 Suffolk St. 2nd Floor New York, NY) on the lower east side.

Every teacher has had an Ernie Silva in their class
I will be going back to see the show and hope to see more former students. I think this is a great show for teachers to see, as Ernie, one of the brightest and most literate students I had, is a prototype for students all teachers run across. Not knowing the depths of what his life as all about, a teacher would pretty much assume a kid like Ernie would have clear sailing right through college and a good career. But it was not so easy. One of ten kids. A brother dead from drugs. Another died in prison. A kid who read Shakespeare and watched Masterpiece Theater and had to take the slings and barbs of family members who degraded him for it.

Tickets are only $10 and there are plenty of good places to eat in the neighborhood so head on down. I'm planning on going this Wednesday, opening night and probably Friday the 30th and maybe closing night. Let me know if you are interested in joining me.

Here is a reprise of what I wrote back in April

I watched my former 4th grade student Ernie Silva perform his powerful one-man show, "Heavy Like the Weight of a Flame," with a different eye. As his former teacher and a member of the education deform resistance movement, I saw things that a casual viewer might not see. The show reinforced what every experienced teacher knows: it is not the so-called achievement gap or "teacher quality is the most important element" - blah, blah, blah - but the street gap faced by most Black and Latino kids compared to the daily life experience faced by middle class kids.

Ernie's story may be unique but it is also in many ways typical of kids growing up in the projects and on the streets of Williamsburg in the 1980's. There was lots of danger all around. Ernie faced it all. Shots fired at a party with one slicing a hole through his shirt. Being stopped by cops pointing guns in his face. Drugs, drugs, drugs - everywhere - in his own house where he was the youngest of 13 children and his brother, destined to die young, was a heavy user. And the other brother in prison who also died. He ended up riding freight trains across the country.

Ernie became a street performer doing break dancing when he was 12 and still a 6th grader. One thing led to another over the next few years and he started doing stand up. His bio states he became an obscene hooky player and started using his train passes to travel around the city looking for comedy clubs instead of going to school (he attended Murray Bergtraum HS). I won't get into the rest of his journey that led to a scholarship to a graduate acting program at USC. He lives in LA now.

Ernie did not face the so-called achievement gap in reading. He was in one of the two best classes I ever had in terms of academic skills (either 1982 or 1983) in terms of achievement and 75% of the children in that class (which I only got because of a threatened grievance) were reading on or above grade level. They wouldn't have been in that class otherwise since classes were grouped strictly by reading scores. Their math was probably not as good but generally they were at a pretty high level. What needs to be pointed out is that most of these kids walked into school as 4 year olds (the top level neighborhood kids usually attended pre-k) with some level of skills and the teachers nurtured these skills.

Ernie talks about how he was a voracious reader. Shakespeare and he was the only one in his house who watched Masterpiece Theater. Friends and family told him: "You can't change things with all that garbage you read" and "knowledge is dangerous and raises questions." Mostly these questions took the form of "What the f!"

Ernie's teachers through elementary school were experienced teachers who were at the top of their game. That class was pretty much together from pre-k through 6th grade. The bottom classes also had the same teachers and the academic results were very different.

There were only 2 classes on the grade in those years at my school as we had lost lots of population due to tenements being torn down - which by the way automatically raised our scores as the project families were more stable than the tenement kids. Ernie was a project kid. The difference in reading ability between the top and bottom classes was very wide. One of the best teachers in my school had the other (bottom) class and she told me she had a tough time that school year. Thank goodness for the UFT contract or my principal would never have given me that class without my threat to grieve it. The next year we reversed positions as the contract demanded. My principal generally violated the contract and I was one of the only teachers who demanded my rights be honored.

I attended the show with Dina, another student from the same class, who I hadn't seen in 25 years. We caught up during intermission. He taught in NYC high schools for years and keeps track of his former students. He was the best math student I ever had and one of the brightest students. He and his sisters' journeys are also interesting and instructive and illustrate how very bright kids in places like Williamsburg have to take routes - like through the military - that middle class kids don't have to face.

I know that anecdotal stories are not considered "data" but the follow-up stories teachers who spend many years in one community hear inform their knowledge and understanding of what it will take to make real changes and why so many of us are ed deform resisters. Joel Klein and Teach for America tell their minions there are no excuses and they often end up discounting trying to address the "street." This is misleading to young teachers who must have an understanding of the "street" and how it transcends the question of reading and math score data. Having such an understanding - which only comes to white middle class teachers through years of experience and involvement in the lives of their children - is a building block toward becoming a more effective teacher.

I want to stress that I also do not believe in making excuses. Teachers have to believe in every student's potential and do their best to help them fulfill that potential. But there are bigger issues that must be addressed that are way beyond the teacher. Indeed, it was that understanding that pushed me into political activism by my 4th year of teaching. It was the first time I became active – the 60's passed me by – and my activism was driven by the kids.

During our reminiscences with Dino, he had lots of memories of my classroom (my giant room) and the trips - the time I loaded him and 5 other kids into my car and took then to my house after school as a reward for good behavior, how he was car sick and barfed in my driveway – sure ways to get a SCI investigation today - I hope the statute of limitations have expired.

Contrary to the Ed Deformers, I do not take the position that teachers are the major influences in these kids' lives, but are small pieces of a very large jigsaw puzzle.

Seeing Ernie perform was special for me. He managed to work my name into the show ("Mom, my teacher Mr. Scott, gave me an A on my science exam today").

I didn't go out with Ernie and his crew after the show, though invited. The other former student joked that he was waiting for me to leave before lighting up because he didn't me to see him smoking. I thought I was a pretty casual teacher and things like that wouldn't matter. But teachers have an impact in ways that are beyond our imagination.

What They Remember

A former 4th grade student from around 1983 found me on Facebook:

As I recall, I recieved my introduction to computers from you. At the time you stressed how important it would be to know how to use one! You were certainly right! I also remember going over to your house with a small group of other students from the class. If my memory serves me right, you had built a telescope that year.

Ernie Silva Show an Allegory for Why Achievement Gap and Teacher Quality Are Phony Issues, Updated

UPDATE: Sunday, April 18, 2010, 11pm

I updated this post today. I saw the show for the 2nd time on Thursday the 15th and it got better and better and I got a few more insights. My wife and Lisa Donlan were with me and we all got to vote for Ernie as the best in the show. There were more "kids" from the old neighborhood there and it was a pleasure meeting Sam C. who wasn't in my class because he moved into the area in the 5th grade. He told me his daughter just graduated from PS 147 last year and he has another kid in the school. Lucky Klein didn't close them down yet and open up a charter. I also ran into a familiar face - one of our robotics coaches who grew up with Ernie. The connections astound me.

It was Ernie's final performance in NYC. He is heading to Chicago and I will let the gang there know he is coming

Ernie called yesterday and he is heading back to LA Monday. He will be back this summer and I hope we can hang out a bit. Last night he and a bunch of the old gang got together for dinner - 3 girls I haven't seen in 25 years. I would have love to see them. Ernie would like to do Fringe NYC and since I volunteer there I hope to get him noticed. They are wrapping up this years' shows for the August festival, but maybe next year I can get all you guys out to see him.

Ernie just sent out a message on Facebook:

Heavy Wins NYC's "The ONE" Solo Festival!!!!!

R. Ernie Silva

Heavy Like the Weight of a Flame has WON N.Y's 2010 "The ONE" solo show Festival!!!!!!!!!!!!

GO ERNIE!

REVISED FOR THE WAVE - April 16, 2010 edition
April 14

I had to cut words for the print edition and this version reinforces the concept that less is more. See info at the end for Ernie's final 2 shows. A bunch of us are going Thursday night. The show is part of a contest and Ernie is in the running to win, so if you go don't forget to vote.




I never write about former students by name because of privacy issues unless they give me permission. But when they are out there performing an autobiographical show about their lives...

So I watched my former 4th grade student Ernie Silva perform his powerful one-man show, "Heavy Like the Weight of a Flame," with a different eye. As his former teacher and a member of the education deform resistance movement, I saw things that a casual viewer might not see. The show reinforced what every experienced teacher knows: it is not the so-called achievement gap or "teacher quality is the most important element" - blah, blah, blah - but the street gap faced by most Black and Latino kids compared to the daily life experience faced by middle class kids.

Ernie's story may be unique but it is also in many ways typical of kids growing up in the projects and on the streets of Williamsburg in the 1980's. There was lots of danger all around. Ernie faced it all. Shots fired at a party with one slicing a hole through his shirt. Being stopped by cops pointing guns in his face. Drugs, drugs, drugs - everywhere - in his own house where he was the youngest of 13 children and his brother, destined to die young, was a heavy user. And the other brother in prison who also died. He ended up riding freight trains across the country.

Ernie became a street performer doing break dancing when he was 12 and still a 6th grader. One thing led to another over the next few years and he started doing stand up. His bio states he became an obscene hooky player and started using his train passes to travel around the city looking for comedy clubs instead of going to school (he attended Murray Bergtraum HS). I won't get into the rest of his journey that led to a scholarship to a graduate acting program at USC. He lives in LA now.

Ernie did not face the so-called achievement gap in reading. He was in one of the two best classes I ever had in terms of academic skills (either 1982 or 1983) in terms of achievement and 75% of the children in that class (which I only got because of a threatened grievance) were reading on or above grade level. They wouldn't have been in that class otherwise since classes were grouped strictly by reading scores. Their math was probably not as good but generally they were at a pretty high level. What needs to be pointed out is that most of these kids walked into school as 4 year olds (the top level neighborhood kids usually attended pre-k) with some level of skills and the teachers nurtured these skills.

Ernie talks about how he was a voracious reader. Shakespeare and he was the only one in his house who watched Masterpiece Theater. Friends and family told him: "You can't change things with all that garbage you read" and "knowledge is dangerous and raises questions." Mostly these questions took the form of "What the f!"

Ernie's teachers through elementary school were experienced teachers who were at the top of their game. That class was pretty much together from pre-k through 6th grade. The bottom classes also had the same teachers and the academic results were very different.

There were only 2 classes on the grade in those years at my school as we had lost lots of population due to tenements being torn down - which by the way automatically raised our scores as the project families were more stable than the tenement kids. Ernie was a project kid. The difference in reading ability between the top and bottom classes was very wide. One of the best teachers in my school had the other (bottom) class and she told me she had a tough time that school year. Thank goodness for the UFT contract or my principal would never have given me that class without my threat to grieve it. The next year we reversed positions as the contract demanded. My principal generally violated the contract and I was one of the only teachers who demanded my rights be honored.

I attended the show with Dina, another student from the same class, who I hadn't seen in 25 years. We caught up during intermission. He taught in NYC high schools for years and keeps track of his former students. He was the best math student I ever had and one of the brightest students. He and his sisters' journeys are also interesting and instructive and illustrate how very bright kids in places like Williamsburg have to take routes - like through the military - that middle class kids don't have to face.

I know that anecdotal stories are not considered "data" but the follow-up stories teachers who spend many years in one community hear inform their knowledge and understanding of what it will take to make real changes and why so many of us are ed deform resisters. Joel Klein and Teach for America tell their minions there are no excuses and they often end up discounting trying to address the "street." This is misleading to young teachers who must have an understanding of the "street" and how it transcends the question of reading and math score data. Having such an understanding - which only comes to white middle class teachers through years of experience and involvement in the lives of their children - is a building block toward becoming a more effective teacher.

I want to stress that I also do not believe in making excuses. Teachers have to believe in every student's potential and do their best to help them fulfill that potential. But there are bigger issues that must be addressed that are way beyond the teacher. Indeed, it was that understanding that pushed me into political activism by my 4th year of teaching. It was the first time I became active – the 60's passed me by – and my activism was driven by the kids.

During our reminiscences with Dino, he had lots of memories of my classroom (my giant room) and the trips - the time I loaded him and 5 other kids into my car and took then to my house after school as a reward for good behavior, how he was car sick and barfed in my driveway – sure ways to get a SCI investigation today - I hope the statute of limitations have expired.

Contrary to the Ed Deformers, I do not take the position that teachers are the major influences in these kids' lives, but are small pieces of a very large jigsaw puzzle.

Seeing Ernie perform was special for me. He managed to work my name into the show ("Mom, my teacher Mr. Scott, gave me an A on my science exam today").

I didn't go out with Ernie and his crew after the show, though invited. The other former student joked that he was waiting for me to leave before lighting up because he didn't me to see him smoking. I thought I was a pretty casual teacher and things like that wouldn't matter. But teachers have an impact in ways that are beyond our imagination.


Ernie has two more shows left (Weds Apr. 14 and Thurs Apr 15 at 8pm) before he heads back to LA and I may see it again on Thurs). His show is part of the 5th annual The One Festival at La Tea theater at 107 Suffolk St. The cost is $20. If Joel Klein and any other ed deformers want to go it is my treat.


Add-Ons:
I just got this email from Lisa Donlan that touches on the issues raised here discussing the
"soft bigotry of low expectations and the belief that the condition of poverty compromises human development is what we need to reform since we see this belief manifest in schools where teachers believe they can not teach kids who are not ready."

My response is that poverty determines where you grow up and that has more of an impact than schools or teacher expectations.


*I will add the story later of why I had to grieve for that class and all the manipulations my principal went through to screw me.

Yankee Parade Brings Back Memories

This must be "student gets out of prison" story week. (See "So, You Get a Phone Call, Revised").

The Yankee parade reminded me of the parade 10 years ago. I was in a district job at the time and asked for the morning off. I stopped by my old school on the way. In one of those coincidences that seem so crazy, in walked a former student looking for me. Call him "M". He had just been released from a 7-year prison term, which he had served after a parole violation from a previous 7-year term. He must have been about 31 or 32 years old. He went in at 15. Half his life in jail.

We chatted and I told him I was on the way to the Yankee parade. "You took us on a trip to the Yankee parade," he said. Memories came flooding back. It was 1978. I was teaching a 6th grade class and we had a trip planned that day. So we made a pit stop to see the parade. We stood at the barriers on lower Broadway and waited for the Yankees to go by. Crowds were sparse, but loads of ticker tape was floating down. Everyone was so friendly and the kids had a blast rolling in the masses of paper. Three or four flatbed trucks sent zipping by and we barely saw Reggie Jackson. Maybe 30 seconds.

These trips were the cement that glued relationships together between the kids and myself as the shared experiences created bonds that created a true classroom community. That was a special class because I had moved up with them from the 5th grade, so knowing all the kids and them knowing me made the opening of school particularly easy. Except for "M", who had not been in my class the year before. He wasn't a bad kid but just never shut up and was constantly calling out and making wise-ass comments. The first couple of weeks were rough for us and I had to get control of the situation. So one day I told him to tell his mother I was coming over the next afternoon to talk about his behavior. They lived in the projects. M opened the door when I knocked with a look of shock and surprise on his face. Surprisingly, rather than be unhappy, he seemed pleased that I came. That gave me some important insight into his character. I sat down in the living room with his mom, a very big woman. I told her that there was a lot to like about M, who could be very funny – when you weren't trying to teach – but he had to get control of himself. M sat there grinning ear to ear.

After that day we were pals. It wasn't only his behavior that changed. Mine did too. I began to tolerate his remarks and laughed openly at them. I often retorted and the kids loved what became a sort of routine between us. M became one of my favorite students of all time.

So, You Get a Phone Call, Revised

Revised Nov. 11, 2009

Last week I received a phone call from J, a former student who was in my 6th grade class in 1973-74. He had just been released from a NY State prison after serving 27 years for murder and was in a shelter (not a good thing) until he finds a place to live. We stayed in touch all these years. I visited him twice in various prisons (he seemed to be in just about every state prison possible). He has been denied parole at least 6 times and he was somewhat shocked when it was granted so suddenly on the 7th try. He was released with just about nothing and with little time to notify people (though it turns out that the weird phone numbers popping up on out caller id were from the prison).

His family was even more shocked. Why was he is in a shelter? At first I thought the family forgot he existed. But it turns out that is a requirement of his release for a few weeks.

I knew lots of people in his family. I taught his brother and his nephew and knew his older sister, who was a political activist associated with a socialist party. In the 1975 teachers strike, she came with a bullhorn to rally community support for us.

A political note: These type of family associations are only possible when a teacher spends many years in one school, something that seems to be out of style with the ed deformers.

J had taken up a hobby in prison of building a miniature farm out of popsicle sticks. He sent me the entire farm, which I still have in my basement. Beautiful work.

He was one of the more difficult kids to deal with and had disrupted many classrooms in the past years (that was before special ed). That class was very difficult, with more than a few kids ending up dead or in prison. I took his behavior issue off the table by buying lizards and some math manipulatives and freeing him from his seat or having to do any formal work in class, though he was free to join us when he wished. He had already been held back twice I think – the maximum possible - see BloomKlein, we didn't have automatic social promotion - but it was enough. You couldn't do it a third time and have a 13-year-old sitting in 6th grade forever.

He dropped out at 14. He studied acting and used to come to my classes in later years and do acting exercises. At times he went on trips with us. Then came drugs. And murder. One time he called me on Thanksgiving from jail and said there were 9 guys from the projects in the same cellblock. He put some of them who knew me on the phone. (One of them is featured in the Yankee parade story below.)

His scores on the test the year I had him were probably not great, as expected (though I maintain that if I tried to force him into a traditional setting he might have done even worse). Obviously, my fault. No merit bonus for me. And maybe even a firing for being such a bad teacher as to not get good results, other than to get a child who had disrupted every class to function effectively in a social setting. How do you measure that?

I can't tell you what he learned in class that year academically (though free to roam, his curiosity took him into many areas of interest). Maybe to trust a teacher enough to stay in touch for 35 years. Obviously, the long-term results were not good. But I can only look at that year and I rate that pretty high. What would I have done if I had been offered more money for getting his score up? Or if threatened with being fired for not?

We've been in touch over the past week. I'm dropping off his "farm" at his sister's place. He has a daughter and once he gets out of the shelter, he has a place to stay. I try to imagine the impact on someone who goes to prison in 1982 at the age of 21 and gets out at 48. How does he see the world today? Cell phones, computers, a world really changed in almost 30 years. "What is the biggest change you see," I asked? "The number of women with big butts," he answered.

Phone Home

To read stories about KIPP, one would think it remarkable that teachers give kids their phone numbers. I started doing that in the 1970's. I should have patented the idea and make KIPP pay me royalties.

On the first day of school every year, I sent home a fact sheet with my phone number.

I immediately established a sense of trust with parents. Of course in those days, not everyone had phones. Well, it depended on whether I had the top class (85% with phones) or the bottom (35% without). That alone sort of tells you something about poverty and school. But that's another story for another time.

You know something? They almost never used it. Mostly it was kids who wanted to say "Hi."

Well, not always. I had one girl in the 6th grade – a tiny kid named Beatrice. It was a Friday. While picking up the kids after lunch, my AP did or said something to annoy me. I retaliated in some stupid way that led to his screaming at Beatrice. That night the phone rang and when I picked it up I heard sobbing. It was Beatrice. "Mr. Scott. How could you do that to me?" Before I could answer, she hung up.

I was depressed the entire weekend. I don't know if she ever felt the same about me again, but I treated her like gold from then on.

Teachers to Be Rated on Chronic Absence - parody

The release of the Milano report finding that

... more than 20 percent of the city’s elementary school pupils were chronically absent during the 2007–08 school year—that is, they missed at least 20 days of the 185-day school year. In districts serving poor neighborhoods, the numbers are even higher. In the south and central Bronx, in central Harlem, and in several neighborhoods in central Brooklyn, 30 percent or more of the pupils were chronically absent, according to the analysis. In contrast, only 5.2 percent of pupils were chronically absent in District 26, which serves the middle class neighborhood of Bayside, Queens… Of the 725 public schools serving elementary grades (excluding charter schools and schools serving severely disabled children), 165 have chronic absentee rates of 30 percent or more… [MORE and NY Times article]

has led to a landmark agreement between the UFT and Tweed to rate teachers on their ability to prevent chronic absence of their students, Ed Notes News is reporting.

Joel Klein said, "These high absentee rates are clearly due to teachers who do not do lessons interesting enough to get their kids to want to come to school."

"No excuses," proclaimed his able assistant Christopher Cerf when asked about the vast differences in the numbers between the poorer and wealthier areas of the city. "Teachers have to figure out ways to get these kids into school. You do what you have to do. If mouth to mouth is necessary, then damnit do it. That is the way to show a spirit willing to close the achievement gap."

Surgical masks, rubber gloves and hazmat suits will be issued to teachers making visits to sick beds. "See, we're not as heartless as they make us out to be," said Cerf. Schools that do not improve will be closed and replaced by condos.

Randi Weingarten agreed to sign on to a plan to grade teachers based on their attendance figures as long as the results are not publicized. "This once and for all ends the public pillorying of teachers based on the attendance rates of their kids," said a UFT spokesperson. "The results will be used by teachers solely to improve by looking at what is wrong with their teaching to keep so many kids away from school for a month.

Ask but don't tell
The spokesperson said, "And the best part of this is our victory on the Klein-Cerf demand that teachers looking for a job have to show the results. Principals may ask but teachers don't have to tell."


Deputy Mayor for Education and Community Development Dennis M. Walcott will speak at a forum addressing the impact of chronic absenteeism in New York City public schools, following the release of a report from The New School’s Center for New York City Affairs, Strengthening Schools by Strengthening Families. Deputy Mayor Walcott will talk about the importance of creating in all schools a culture that recognizes that failure for our students, regardless of their family or life circumstances, is not an option. He will also reinforce the Department of Education’s efforts to hold schools accountable for students’ academic achievement, and highlight efforts to combat chronic absenteeism and the role of community collaboration and partnerships in that work.
[Last paragraph NOT a parody.]

Step up to the plate Teach for America

I posted an article from The Feministe by "Anna" called "Why I Hate Teach for America" on Aug. 24, 2008. One of the things TFA'ers who comment on critics say is that they are filling a breach that other teachers won't go into even if it's only for 2 years. In NYC with 1400 unassigned teachers (ATR's) due to closed schools adn excessed positions, TFA continues to pour people into the NYC school system. The cost to the system has been estimated to be $70 million.

Amazingly, the blame has been placed on these experienced teachers by Tim Daly of the New Teachers Project who has a contract to train new teachers and a vested interest in attacking these experienced teachers. His biased reports may in fact be a hidden part of his contract.

Groups in NYC have been calling on the DOE to place a moratorium on TFA recruitment until all these teachers are placed or use them to create more classes where feasible to reduce class size.

The anonymous comment below on the "I Hate TFA Post" came across the other day.


I am a traditionally trained teacher. I have a dual degree in elementary and special education. I'm currently working on my M.Ed in Literacy. It pains me to think of the disservice we are doing our students with TfA.

I've seen people with no background become literacy coaches in 3 years, teaching new recruits how to teach! It's an absolute joke.

We are putting the wrong people in the neediest situations and often watching them fail. With programs like TfA we are putting a band-aid over a huge flesh wound in the American educational system.

I believe that alternative programs can be a part of the certification process but TfA is missing the boat, big time.

I teach special education in an inner-ring suburb of a large metropolitan area. I think of what our students are missing by having teachers, with less than 8 weeks of training, standing in front of them, especially in the elementary grades. Research proves that these primary years are the most important in shaping our academic success and our nation is willingly letting people with no experience or background teach literacy and math.

Unfortunately, this is the way it will be unless this great nation of ours realizes that we need to turn things around, supporting our students at home and our teachers in the classroom. Our profession has lost its nobility.

Students are disrespectful and are supported in their poor choices by parents. We need to reward teachers who pursue higher education degrees and continue to teach with higher salaries and an ounce of appreciation for the often thankless things we do and the countless hours spent helping students beyond our contracted day.

Teach for America perpetuates the problem by supporting the idea that teaching is a stepping stone to bigger and better. In my mind, teaching is the bigger and better. Teach for America boasts that high expectations are required for student achievement. I agree, and I have higher expectations for programs like TfA and the people who have chosen this path.

Step up to the plate TfA and require your recruits to enter the field and continue with their training to TEACH!


Ed Note: I do not agree with the "Students are disrespectful" part of this comment because it brands all students. However, since I also taught special ed kids with emotional difficulties as a cluster teacher - and believe me, I was completely untrained to deal with them - I can understand why this teacher may feel this way.

They're in a Snit at Mimi ....

...at must read blog It's not all flowers and sausages over how she dealt with a disruptive child who she calls "Big Boy."

Today, he yelled at another kid to "shut up." (The child at whom he was yelling was not making any noise, by the by.) The other child looked up and said, " you're telling ME to shut up??!? You NEVER shut up!"

And I knew it was time. We had an emergency class meeting, with Big Boy, in which we talked about how his behavior made everyone else feel. There was no pointing, no tattling, and no name calling allowed. My friends were only allowed to say how Big Boy's behavior made them feel.

....Big Boy ended up having the best day he's ever had. It was kind of amazing (although I'm not sure how appropriate).

Well, there was some reaction for the holier than thou crowd. Poor kid was embarrassed. You know the drill. Even a principal chimed in chastising Mimi (make sure to read the comments, which are mostly supportive of Mimi.)

I did plenty of the same stuff. Ya gotta do what ya gotta do to get some kids to cut the crap. Teachers of self-contained classes where you live with these kids all day all year have to use unorthodox means for the kids and them to survive in their little communities. When one kid is abusive to others, something must be done, often on the spur of the moment. Teachers can't afford to think deep psychology at these times. Soliciting comments of peers in a public setting when handled by a teacher like Mimi is perfectly legitimate.

Mimi points to how immature this kid is. The class meeting was probably the best thing that has happened to Big Boy in a school setting. He will still regress at times, but he is on the road to being able to work in a class setting. Hey, isn't school really about getting kids to to learn to function in menial jobs without complaint?

Bravo, Mimi.

Note: Flowers and Sausages and Have a Gneiss Day are currently my favorite blogs for their descriptions of the day today stuff that goes on in schools. That they seem to teach in such different settings and have such different backgrounds makes reading both blogs so intriguing. Both are deeply anonymous. If they weren't, they would each need a food taster.

A Very Gneiss Blog

There's no blog out there that gives a better feel for how schools really function - the loves, the hatreds, the joys, the sorrows, the daily, hourly idiocies of the NYC school system than Have a Gneiss Day. A tough gal with a tender heart, Gneiss expresses all the frustrations and excitement of teaching. She's the kind of teacher most NYC principals look askance at because she sees through the bullshit. As a critic of BloomWeinKlein, she falls into the small camp of voices that see the world the way it really is. She would be called a status quoer by the Joel Kleins, Al Sharptons and their band of merry makers, but if I were going to start a school she would be at the top of my list. Actually, I would sit back, put my feet up and let her run it. No Ms. Wannabees here. Yesterday she said goodbye to her favorite kids.

The Story of A and E

A story to illustrate why the simplistic "close the achievement gap and all will be well" zombies out there make longtime teachers froth at the mouth. I was inspired to tell this story after my meeting with the Teach for America alum from the previous post.


My memory is a bit hazy, but I think it was in the mid 80's. I picked up the phone and heard shrieking. "Mr. Scott, E is dead. E is dead." It was A, one of my all-time favorite students. Both A & E were in my top performing 6th grade class in 1975. We had kept in touch over the years.

E, her boyfriend and another woman were found shot to death execution style with bullets in their heads in the Bronx. She was around 20 at the time. "Drugs," the papers said. I raced over to the funeral home. Young friends of E were milling about crying (not the only time I got to witness such scenes). E's mom,who I had known for so many years, was catatonic.

A had gone to one of the 3 competitive special high schools and then on to a top university and eventually turned to teaching and even subbed at my school a few times.

Coming from a poor family with a single parent, A was a star from the day she entered school. No achievement gap here. None of the 8 teachers she had at our school from pre-k through me in the 6th grade would think of taking credit for her achievements. (Think of the merit pay she would have brought us.)

Her amazing mom was the key. Tall, thin, supremely dignified and proud, her voice with hints of her southern roots, she was a school lunchroom worker raising two daughters in the midst of a neighborhood that lost so many kids. Talk about accountability. I wouldn't have dared think about not being accountable to her. If they're giving out merit pay, it should go to people like her.

E wasn't quite as successful a student, but was certainly not behind in math and reading. There were 3 kids in the family. In 1975, the family was whole, with a father present who seemed dedicated to the family. To an outsider, this seemed like one happy family. But not soon after E graduated from my school, things went bad. The dad walked out. That seemed to lead to a downward spiral all around. Mom didn't do too well. One brother served some serious time in prison. The other had problems in school.

I don't know to what extent E's "achievement" was affected. I assume she finished high school and probably just fell in with the wrong guy.

Postscript: A few years later my wife and I attended A's beautiful wedding when she married her high school sweetheart. I thought about E that day and what her wedding would have been like.

A's mom was there, standing tall and proud.

Thank a Teacher - Better Than Any Praise by Any Supervisor

Fourth graders Maria, Daphne and Diane, 1981, most likely on one of our (numerous) trips.

Wednesday night's News Hour had a decent report on teachers, focusing on the NY State teacher of the year. She said some very good things.

The report ended with the observation that when polled as to the thing they wanted most – no, they did not mention merit pay – teachers said they want to be thanked. At least once in a while.

The Highest Form of Accountability:
Praise from a former student

For me, it's been a long time since I was in a position to be thanked. I was a very confident teacher but over time I have forgotten what it was that made me so confident. Doubts have arisen as to just how good a teacher I was.

So when the email below (and picture) came about 3 weeks ago I was quite surprised. And needless to say, pleased. That it was from a 4th grade student from 1981 who now has 2 children of her own, made this very special. And even though she was around 10 years old at the time, she seemed to get me as a teacher. Ironically, the other teacher she mentions was so totally opposite to me in almost every way (also the principal's favorite just as I was the principal's least favorite.)

Maria, in one of the 2 top classes I ever had, was among my 3-5 most proficient students. And probably the best math student ever. She doubted I remembered who she was. I told her when we spoke that I wouldn't forget one of the few students I had who went to Stuyvesant HS. Maria (and her friends) left a lasting impression on me. Her dad, who was an older gentleman (in a very embarrassing moment I asked him if he was her grandfather) was always there to bring her to school in the morning and pick her up in the afternoon – a wonderful gentleman, and in spite of Maria's giving me credit for stimulating her interest in math, the true source of that interest. I really think he knew more than me. She told me he died 4 years ago in his 90's.

You hear the word "accountability," sure, like no one was ever accountable until the regressive ed movement came along. I always felt accountable – to the people that mattered most – the students and the parents. I couldn't care less what supervisors thought (unless I respected them.) A student opinion, especially after a generation, means more than any award or merit pay one can get. I bet most teachers agree.

The last time I saw Maria I took her and some other students to a college prep class in Manhattan. She was about 17 and on the way to college. We're hoping to get together soon.

Good Afternoon Norman,

In my search to find a good school for my 6 and 3 year old daughters, I started to recall my own elementary school experience.

With that, it brought me to remember two teachers who brought something unique to the classroom and sparked my interest in learning.

You were one of those teachers and Ms. DeMarinas was the other.

I am sure that you do not recall the names and faces of all the children you taught over the years, but I am quite sure that you left your impression on each of them, as I am one of them.

I was enrolled in your class as a 4th Grader in PS 147 in Brooklyn in 1981.

Academically, I recall a wonderful multiplication table that sparked my love of math. I also remember that on Mondays you would assign us ten random words that we would need to incorporate into a storyline by Friday…that was my favorite!

But it was your spirit and love of life that I remember best. In the mornings, you would select a few kids off the line to come help set up the classroom before school began. Getting called up to your classroom was something of the equivalent of getting waved over to Johnny Carson's couch…for that is when the magic happened!

It was during this time that you introduced me to John Lennon, Randy Newman and everytime I hear Wherewolves of London I still think of you!

You strived to inspire inner city children to a world outside of their own…and for some of us, it stuck.

So here I am, researching schools and decided to google your name…and there you were!

My name in 1981 was Maria A-. I was best friends with Diane and Daphne. We remain close friends to this day.

I have attached a picture of the three of us in elementary school…and who knows, our faces might look slightly familiar to you.

(From left to right: me, Daphne and Diane)

I am now a mother of two beautiful daughters and today I have come full circle as I begin to chart their academic lives!

Hope things are well for you and it has made me very happy to be able to reach out to you today.

Sincerely,

Maria

THANK YOU, MARIA

Memories and Tragedies

About 10 years ago I go a call on Thanksgiving night from a former student from a correctional institution upstate. He was serving life (and is still in the system). After chatting for a few minutes, he said "Wait! Some people want to talk to you." And there were two more of my students. Six or seven from my school were in the same cell block. My fault, I guess. You see what happens when you have under performing schools? What was missing from their lives was probably a charter school.

One of the things about teaching in certain neighborhoods, and a reason some teachers eventually must leave, are the all too many dismal stories – more of the above than successful college graduates. If you stay in one place, you see generations of devastation – drugs, prison, you know the drill. Probably due to the low quality teachers according to the Joel Kleins of this world.

You could have feast or famine in alternate years - if the contract, which gave you the right to move from bottom of the grade to top, was followed, which it often wasn't. The favorites of the principals got the top every year unless you grieved – which I had to do twice. Oh, that darn union contract, which was so weak even in this obvious area (my principal declared a heterogeneous "experiment" for my grade only that year only.) Some teachers would knife you in the back to stay on the top and do all sorts of favors for the principal. Now I hear they have supposedly eliminated tracking.

How are teachers affected by so many stories of death and destruction? Some get worn out; for others it's like water off their backs. That was why the UFT's willingness to remove the ability to transfer, often the only way out, was such a sell-out. I mean, there comes a time when people need to see some success stories.

Here is something I wrote in my chapter leader report in November, 1996. I was teaching computers, so A... wasn't in my class, but over a few years we got to hang out together, go to basketball games and my wife and I even had him and a friend stay over at at the house a few times. One of the major hoodlums in my school, feared by students and even some teachers, despised by the principal, my wife couldn't believe the stories, he was so unfailingly polite - and made his bed, which was a major point for my wife. I had had many members of A...'s family in my classes over the years, his uncle and even his mom (I won't even go there) for a time when she was in the 4th grade and knew his grandmother well. She was raising him, as were many other grandmothers in the neighborhood, one of the serious issues that lead to worn out older women having to do it all over again and just not having the energy to keep tight control over the kids.

When he was 12 or 13 I took him to Gleason's boxing gym in downtown Brooklyn to introduce him to a trainer a friend was working out with. We got him a locker and he worked out. Everyone treated him great and I thought this could save him. We went once or twice and I urged him to keep going. But he didn't. A major lost chance.

When A... was arrested in Pennsylvania when he was around 14, I received a call from the social worker there. "We don't know what to do with him," she said. "His grandmother says it is too far to visit and wants us to send him home." "Keep him there as long as you can," was my advice. They didn't listen. Within a year he had shot up the door to an apartment in his building, got a 24 year old woman pregnant and was sent away for 3 years.

When he got out he called and we made plans to get together. It never happened. One November morning his little sister tapped me on the shoulder as the classes were lining up. As calm as she could be, she said, "A... was shot 5 times in the head in Pennsylvania." What makes it all so tragic is that no one was surprised at the news - like watching someone standing in the middle of the road with a truck coming and you're helpless to stop it.

PS XXX Chapter Report, Nov. 1996

A..., a graduate of P.S. xxx, was shot to death on November 8, 1996. He was 18 years old. Our condolences go out to A...’s grandmother, his mother (also a former student), his sister, (currently a 4th grade student at P.S. xxx) and the rest of the family.

Some people were not surprised that A..’s life ended at such an early age, given the hard life he led. No matter how often we read similar stories in the paper, there’s no accounting for how people will react when they see a young man they’ve known since the 3rd grade laid out in a coffin; especially a young man who died such a seemingly senseless death. But as one of his relatives said after the funeral, A... was willing to risk danger because the life he was destined for seemed so bleak.

In spite of all this, he was still one of our kids. P.S. xxx provided A... with a nurturing environment in spite of the fact he was never easy to deal with. He had a certain stubborness that often drove teachers crazy. But many of us developed a rapport with A... that went beyond the normal teacher-student relationship. He had a hard reputation on the street, but he could be extremely responsible and trustworthy when he respected you and his situation moved many of us. We saw the road he was on. At times he reached out for help, but there was no stopping this train.

A...’s last months were spent at home in Brooklyn getting to know his three year old daughter (who had just started calling him “daddy.”) He started school and had a nighttime job. This was not the kind of life he was used to. We urged him to hang on. Maybe the routine would break him of bad habits. He knew his weaknesses. He had hoped to find a sports program to keep him occupied until he could play baseball in the spring. But the temptations must have been too great. He went back to Pennsylvania where he had been in trouble before. That was where he died.

His short life left something to be desired. He was a 7th grade dropout (his school career lasted about 2 months after he left us); he had multiple problems with the law (he just finished serving 3 years in prison); there were ugly rumors about some of his street activities.

A...’s funeral was attended by many parents and former students from the P.S.xxx community. His cousin N... (another former student at P.S. xxx) read a moving eulogy, which expressed the all too common and disturbing attitude ("A..., you did what you had to do as a man"). Many of his friends wrote poems in his memory. A... clearly had the respect and admiration of many of his contemporaries.

Postscript: N..., a cousin who made the eulogy, was attending college at the time of the funeral. We hope she made it out. But even if she did, the needs of the family would have always pulled her back.

A teacher at PS xxx told me a few years ago that A...'s daughter was a student at the school, most probably being raised by that same grandmother. I guess she would be about 14 now. We can only hope she also breaks the pattern.

Black Boy Middle School, Parts 1-3

I found this as a comment on the NYC Educator blog. Really good stuff:

i just want to remind ye teachers what you are fighting for. i carved out a sense of self in school because of you folks. when the line dips in the yearly graph for energy and commitment to the classroom, remember what i say: teachers were my parents growing up. school was my sanctuary. i'm remembering those days with images and words here. come by to get rejuvenated.

Black Boy Middle School, Parts 1-3
http://youtube.com/watch? v=wdgEz...feature=related
http://youtube.com/watch? v=3xaBZ...feature=related
http://youtube.com/watch?v=8gVI07rDY7A

Ricky....

.... was in my 6th grade class in the late 70's. He was one of only 6 boys in the class - there were 18 girls - it made discipline issues so easy and I had a wonderful year. Ricky was enormously popular with the girls - good looking, charming beyond his years, liked by teachers even though he was not an angel, somewhat rambunctious. I had a great relationship with his mom. I haven't thought of Ricky in years but was reminded of him when today's NY Times had an article about a boy who died after some horseplay in the playground that led to his being in the head by another boy, one of his friends.

The summer after Ricky graduated, he was playing with his best friend, another student at my school. They were fixing up their bikes. One of them had a flat. They were using a knife to cut a patch. They started horsing around with the knife. Ricky started tossing it from hand to hand like they did in movies - remember West Side Story - saying something like "come on Chickie." His friend came at him, tripped over the bike and fell into the knife and died.

I heard this version from Ricky himself when he came back to school to visit the next year. It was considered an accident and Ricky as far as I know never had to face the criminal justice system. His family was a supportive one (thank goodness) and the other boy's family from what I heard did not call for Ricky's head and may have even forgiven him. Maybe it was Ricky's charm. Or maybe times were just different then.

The last time I saw Ricky he was in his late 20's and doing well in life. Still charming, the same old little boy smile. No obvious scars left from a few moments of foolish folly when he was 11 years old.