U.S. NEWS & WORLD REPORT
Oct. 9, 2000, pp. 64+
"Copyright 2000, U.S. NEWS & WORLD REPORT. Distributed by the Los Angeles Times Syndicate."
FIXING YOUR SCHOOL
How Five Troubled High Schools Made Dramatic Turnarounds
by Ted Gest
Ten years ago, Julia Richman High School ranked among the very worst schools in New York City. Two thirds of the freshman class quit before graduation. One cafeteria fight ended in gunfire outside. Employees of nearby Memorial Sloan-Kettering hospital walked all the way around the block rather than risk passing the school's front door. Education? Most Julia Richman kids considered themselves lucky just to get through the day. No more. Today, violence is largely a thing of the past, and the metal detectors are history. The dropout rate has fallen into single digits. More than half of Julia Richman's graduates now go on to college.
Out among the cornfields of Georgetown, Del., Sussex Technical High School faced different problems. Enrollment had dropped by nearly half as its vocational program fell out of step with the high-tech economy. Test scores were among the state's lowest, and many students dropped out. Today Sussex Tech's sophomores rank fourth among Delaware students in math and sixth in reading. More than 300 students crowd its waiting list. Two different high schools, two very different sets of problems. But today, both schools can boast of dramatic turnarounds.
Many of the nation's nearly 17,000 public high schools do an admirable job of transforming immature, hormonally charged kids into serious, engaged thinkers. But many others are mired in problems. Stultifying young minds, a source of despair for parents who had hoped for more for their kids, some high schools are little more than way stations on the grim road to nowhere. So what to make of Julia Richman and Sussex Tech? They may still be more the exception than the rule, but take a close look at the two, and one conclusion becomes inescapable: Americans CAN fix what ails their high schools--no matter how intractable the problems may seem. In the following pages, U.S. NEWS examines five troubled high schools where educators and parents turned things around. The problems varied from one school to another. So did the solutions. There's no cookie-cutter formula for success, no magic potion. But there ARE strategies that work.
Before we get to strategy, though, a quick look at where we stand. The good news first: A nationwide push to raise standards has put more students than ever into advanced courses. More students stick around to graduate, and 66 percent of graduates went to college in 1998, up from 49 percent in the early '70s. Then there's the other side of the ledger. Nearly one in four 17-year-olds reads below grade level. Almost 1 in 3 who enters college needs remedial classes before he can handle basic freshman courses. And despite recent gains, American high school kids still score much lower than their peers abroad in math and science. A U.S. NEWS poll reflects this mixed picture: Forty-five percent of parents said they are "very satisfied" with their kids' high schools; 36 percent are "somewhat satisfied," and nearly 20 percent are "very" or "somewhat" dissatisfied.* (U.S. NEWS poll of 480 parents of high school students conducted by Market Facts Telenation Survey Sept. 11-13 and 15-17, 2000)
Try as they might, educators, parents, and students may never be able to break the back of some of the problems that block student success. Poverty, domestic strife, and drugs are, too often, slam-dunk bad news. Many school districts, especially the poorest, can't find and keep good teachers. But often, it's the WAYS kids are educated that hurt their performance, and many of those ways can be changed.
What to do? At Manhattan's Julia Richman High, school-district officials, representatives of the teachers union, and outside reformers took a hard look at the school's structure. Then they decided to break it down and start all over again. The school that had taught 2,500 teenagers in an undifferentiated mob became six separate schools--each smaller and more focused on the needs and interests of the kids enrolled there. Perhaps too much has been made of class size, but there's no doubt that when kids are lumped together in large numbers, learning problems multiply. Nearly 60 percent of America's public high school students go to school with 1,000 or more teens, and some urban behemoths are four times that size. Students often shuttle between lectures given by teachers who barely know the kids' names, much less their dreams and problems. A host of studies have shown that smaller schools and "schools within schools" that allow students to focus on particular areas of interest, like those at Wyandotte High School in Kansas City, Kan., produce higher achievers who drop out at lower rates. "My kids look forward to attending school even if they are sick," says Donna Criss, a Wyandotte mom. The school's 1,250 students are divided into eight "learning communities" that focus on such areas as the performing arts and technology. At Julia Richman's Urban Academy for potential dropouts, English teacher Phyllis Tashlik marvels: "I've never even had a kid answer back freshly." This week, the U.S. Department of Education will hand out $45 million to schools proposing this type of reform.
But merely breaking a school into smaller parts isn't enough. Kids clearly benefit from strong bonds with caring advisers. So most of the schools whose stories follow make sure that all students have a close relationship with a teacher or counselor. Every student at Sir Francis Drake High School near San Francisco meets twice a week with a faculty adviser to talk about everything from grades to future plans. "You're not like a number here," says Melissa Schutte, a sophomore at Sussex Tech, where small groups of classmates spend several hours a day with the same teacher. "It makes you want to do well."
A third key to turning a school around is parent involvement, which drops off sharply just when kids are facing life-altering decisions: Should I go to college? Who will my friends be? What do I want to be when I grow up? At places like the progressive new Metropolitan Regional Career and Technical Center in Providence, R.I., for example, parents work with teachers to develop individualized learning plans for their children.
Nothing turns kids off more than studies that seem dull and irrelevant, so curriculum reform is crucial, too. Conversely, students seem to learn best when expectations are high and they're challenged to think--and when the connections are clear between their studies and the real world. Students at Francis Drake, for example, examine presidential politics from two vantages: through history in their government class and by producing election commercials in video class. Sussex Tech's turnaround came after a decision to infuse vocational courses with high-level math and science and to make outside internships part of the program. Georgia's Loganville High opened honors classes to any committed student. Test scores soared.
When educators refuse to try to implement such changes, parents can force the issue. Patricia McNeil, a federal education official monitoring high-school improvement, cites "external pressure" as the third leg of school reform, along with determined principals and teachers. It was an activist group, Parents for Public Schools, that halted the slide of two city high schools in Jackson, Miss. One had so many students that portable classrooms ringed the building. In the other, across the street, classrooms stood empty. Achievement at both was abysmal. Parents pored over budgets and enrollment trends. Then they pushed the school board to implement a redistricting plan that evened out the student populations. Today, morale is vastly improved. So are test scores.
Parents can make a huge difference. They can lobby to hire a principal with vision. Then they can make sure changes are institutionalized so they don't vanish after the principal moves on. The issues and challenges vary from school to school. Here's a look at five that--while still not perfect--figured out how to take things that were broke and fix them.--With Rachel Hartigan and Mary Lord
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LOGANVILLE HIGH: A PLACE WITH A PURPOSE
LOGANVILLE, GA.--The home of the Mighty Red Devils was never really a bad place. The kids were polite, the teachers friendly. Parents flocked to football games, and graduation was always a major event. But beneath the school's friendly exterior in this quiet country town outside Atlanta there was a problem. Up till a few years ago, Loganville just didn't expect much from its students. Many teachers and parents assumed that only the college-bound minority needed an academic challenge. The rest were allowed to just float along. Gut courses and lax grading made life easy--until graduation, when many left Loganville with few skills and no clue about what to do next.
That's ancient history now. In 1992, a new principal, Ken Prichard, attended a conference organized by High Schools That Work, an Atlanta-based reform network. Its message, that students don't have to be on the college track to get a good high school education, "set me on fire," Prichard says. High Schools That Work stresses that vocational and academic classes should be equally challenging and that college shouldn't be viewed as the goal of every student. With the fervor of a convert, Prichard rushed home to sell the philosophy to his teachers.
But behind the philosophy were nuts-and-bolts changes. Prichard's first step was to make sure that each student had one adult at Loganville who knew him or her well. Under Prichard's plan, every teacher would counsel about 20 kids. The teacher would track them from freshman orientation to graduation. Each Wednesday, teachers and their charges meet to pick courses, investigate career options, and discuss whatever else is on their minds. Teachers were soon going way beyond their scripted roles. Charles Davenport, a vocational education instructor, holds tutoring sessions as early as 6:30 in the morning. Physical education teacher Linda Hobbs keeps colleagues abreast of students' crises at home if she thinks the problems might affect their work. Senior Michael Stokely says that it was his adviser's constant nagging and many phone calls home to his parents that helped him get through freshman year. Now he has a scholarship to study military science at North Georgia College and State University in Dahlonega.
Prichard also insisted that parents help their kids plan what they'll do after graduation. At least once a year, parents must come in to talk about their child's "five-year plan." A student whose parents neglect to come in can't register for classes the following year. Today, parents can be seen everywhere at Loganville. They turn up at career day to tell kids about their jobs, drop off donated books at the English department, and come out on weekends to build lockers for the girls' sports teams.
But it wasn't all sweetness and light. Prichard wanted Loganville to be tougher. He increased the number of credits needed for graduation and axed easy courses that "didn't prepare anybody for anything." He added stringent new classes like manufacturing and communications technology to the vocational education curriculum. Students' mandatory reading lists suddenly got longer.
Today, things at Loganville are looking up. Prichard was promoted to the district office, but his successor has inherited a school where kids are challenged and parents and teachers are involved. Performance, by nearly every measure, is up. Before Prichard's reforms, 62 percent of the senior class did not go on to college or technical school. Now, 86 percent pursue an education beyond graduation. Chronic absences have plunged 20 percent, and the dropout rate has dipped from over 9 percent to less than 4 percent. "Now," says Latin teacher Gina Luck, "our students have a purpose."--Rachel Hartigan
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WYANDOTTE HIGH: WHERE TEACHERS CARE
KANSAS CITY, KAN.--A few decades ago, Wyandotte was this city's premier high school. It boasted championship teams in track and hoops, and famous alums like actor Ed Asner. By the 1990s, however, the wheels had come off. Students regularly set off firecrackers, started food fights, and even urinated on radiators. "The school," says Superintendent Ray Daniels, "was dysfunctional."
Wyandotte's woes began in the late 1960s. The working-class neighborhood surrounding the school began deteriorating as families climbing the economic ladder fled to the suburbs. In 1979, a city-wide desegregation plan placed a magnet school nearby. That siphoned off many of Wyandotte's best students and teachers. By 1995, 4 out of 5 students were flunking standardized tests. "Teachers didn't care," says senior Micaela Dominguez, "if you came to class or not."
But some teachers DID care. A faculty group began meeting after school to discuss ways to save Wyandotte. Then lightning struck. Across the river in Kansas City, Mo., officials at the Ewing Marion Kauffman Foundation had become intrigued by a model for revitalizing schools. Developed by James Connell, a Philadelphia educator, the program was called First Things First. Connell wanted to make learning more "real-world based," and he emphasized stronger student-teacher relationships. The Kauffman Foundation approached the school board in Kansas City, Kan. Would the board be interested in trying out First Things First at Wyandotte? The school's new principal, Walter Thompson, leapt at the opportunity. Then he pulled out all the stops to sell it to the Wyandotte faculty.
Gradually, teachers and administrators hammered out a plan. They would create eight smaller schools, or "learning communities," within the school. Each would focus on topics like business entrepreneurship, technology, and the humanities. All students would be required to take core courses--with class length doubled to 90 minutes--in math, English, and other basics. Students would also take courses in their chosen "community." These would be tailored to more practical concerns.
The transition wasn't easy, but Wyandotte's third year working with FTF began smoothly this fall. Many students now say they have a new sense of connection with their teachers. Micaela Dominguez no longer skips class, she says, because teachers "help me focus on what I want to do." Senior Kwame Overton says he LIKES the longer classes. Teachers, he says, "didn't get to know anyone in 45 minutes a day." Students say they also feel more plugged into their coursework, too. David Toepfer's tech students, for instance, are proud of a computer lab they helped build. Students also like the new opportunities to experience the working world firsthand. Last year, 175 Wyandotte kids participated in a "job shadow" day at local businesses. Others are tutoring elementary school students.
Numbers never tell the whole story, of course, but they help. The ranks of seniors who qualified for graduation rose 25 percent in the reform's first year, from 138 to 172.
Wyandotte's success has impressed the Kansas City school board so much that it has decided to use the FTF model in each of the city's other four high schools. Now, says Connell, the godfather of FTF, there's no going back. "Enough teachers are seeing changes in their kids," he explains, that they have become true believers.--Ted Gest
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BEL AIR HIGH: "ALL KIDS CAN LEARN"
EL PASO, TEXAS--When Steve Salcido started ninth grade here, back in 1993, Bel Air was hardly what you'd call an educational showcase. Gang fights were a regular event at the mostly low-income and Hispanic school just south of I-10, a major economic and social dividing line in this bustling border town. "Students were not here to study," Salcido says. "They were just here to see their friends." And sometimes they weren't there at all. Every so often, Bel Air kids would skip school to attend impromptu parties in nearby Ciudad Juarez, Mexico.
Midway through Salcido's high school career, Bel Air got a jolt. First, Anthony Trujillo, district superintendent at the time, installed a new principal at the 2,200-student school. The next year, in 1996, Trujillo announced a shake-up: All employees, from department heads to janitors, would have to reapply for their jobs. Many didn't return. "Most of us who had been here a long time felt insulted," says Diane Dunn-Arms, the chair of the math department and a 24-year Bel Air veteran. She was among the 57 percent of teachers who stayed. "Most human beings don't like tumultuous change, and this was tumultuous change."
Today, Dunn-Arms says the upheaval was worth it. Bel Air's once dismal passing rates on state reading, writing, and math tests are now well over 80 percent in every subject, enough to earn the school the state's second-highest ranking. Several administrators' parking spaces are decorated with blue ribbons to celebrate Bel Air's federal designation this year as a "Blue Ribbon school." Salcido, now a 21-year-old accounting major at New Mexico State University in Las Cruces who tutors math at his old school, tells his students constantly: "You kids are lucky."
Students, teachers, and administrators all attribute the school's success to a revolution in attitudes. "For many years, the idea at this school was, 'Those kids are not capable of going to college,'" says head counselor Linda Mullin. Now that mind-set is gone. Says Principal Vernon Butler: "Teachers here have embraced the idea that all kids can learn if given the opportunity."
With his handpicked corps of administrators and teachers, Butler beefed up discipline and focused intensely on improving academics, in part by keeping close tabs on students. Teachers issue report cards every three weeks during the nine-week term. "If we have a large number of students failing," Butler says, "we can step in and ask what's going on in the classroom."
Another factor in the continuing turnaround is a surge in parent involvement. In the past, says volunteer coordinator Hilda Martinez, parents were rarely seen at school unless their children were being disciplined. Now, "parents are around a lot," she says, whether chaperoning at dances or helping school officials round up absent students during state tests.
Bel Air officials know the school has a long way to go. Average SAT scores remain low (partly because every student must now take the test). More students are taking Advanced Placement classes, but many aren't earning scores high enough to get college credit. "We've been able to reach minimum expectations," says English department chair Addison Fontenot. "The question is, can we get to the point where we're competitive nationally?" Yes, says Susana Navarro, the executive director of the nonprofit El Paso Collaborative for Academic Excellence: "This is a school that shows so clearly that turnaround is possible."--Ben Wildavsky
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SIR FRANCIS DRAKE HIGH: RIGOR AND RELEVANCE
SAN ANSELMO, CALIF.--You can see it in the science classroom. Juniors and seniors analyze soil samples from a creek that runs through campus. And in engineering class. More than a dozen boys are designing and building balsa-wood bridges. Something extraordinary is happening at Sir Francis Drake High School in the suburbs north of San Francisco: Students are paying rapt attention.
It wasn't always this way. A decade ago, Drake was like the student who dutifully shows up for classes but never makes much of an impression. In many ways, it was a typical American high school, even though it was located in a booming area where the average home sold for over $400,000. "The lack of intellectual engagement of the kids was astonishing," says Bob Lenz, a teacher who arrived from an inner-city school in 1993 to oversee the student activities program. Michelle Swanson, who taught at Drake back then, remembers launching an environmental science project and hearing students say things like, "Hey, I read enough in the textbook. I don't want to know more."
What happened? The improvement at Drake involved a number of stops and starts. An attempt in 1990 to inaugurate an innovative school within a school faltered when it alienated Drake's faculty by relying on outsiders. Two years later, a second principal tried again. This time, committees of parents, teachers, secretaries, cafeteria workers, and students were asked to write "action plans" to improve all aspects of Drake, and the groups worked with surprising zeal. The changes required close to $1 million in donations from government agencies and private foundations, and, brace yourself, a small tax increase, which voters agreed to in 1997. (The $138-per-property surcharge will last for eight years.)
Drake's success comes largely from its decision to try what educators call "integrated studies." Instead of teaching classes in isolation, the school now has several teams of teachers who work together and confer daily to discuss the progress of students. Every student meets twice a week with a faculty adviser who can offer help with thorny assignments. In addition, juniors and seniors may apply to engineering, communications, and leadership academies--the schools within a school that emphasize in-depth projects.
Teachers, students, and community members have worked together to emphasize two goals at Drake: rigor and relevance. Every new staffer is told to encourage intellectual inquiry, high-quality work, and "real world" experiences off campus. "Many people think if you have relevance--such as projects and internships--you can't have rigor, but that's just not true," says Principal Carol Eber.
"My friends at other schools keep saying, 'I'm bored,' and they're amazed to hear about all the projects we're doing here," says senior Alexis Guy, the editor of the student newspaper. She recently had an internship producing radio broadcasts and webcasts about science for a nonprofit group. The more objective measurements, too, speak to Drake's progress: Attendance, which was 93 percent in 1993, is 98 percent. And the percentage of students completing the requirements to attend the University of California system rose from 40 percent in 1993 to 62 percent in 1998. That far surpasses the district average of 51 percent.--David L. Marcus
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SUSSEX TECHNICAL HIGH: VO-TECH GETS TOUGH
GEORGETOWN, DEL.--BREEEP! ZIIIP! It's nearly 5 o'clock, and odd chirps are leaking from the electronics classroom at Sussex Technical High School in rural Delaware. Inside, teacher William Hardy and 11th grader Andrew O'Neal have finally fixed Buster, a remote-controlled school bus, and they are putting the huge yellow machine through its paces.
Such overtime efforts would have been unimaginable in the old days--just a decade ago. Back then, Sussex Tech was a part-time program whose pupils spent as much time busing from their regular high schools each afternoon as they did in their vocational classes. As many as 1 in 3 dropped out, and those who did graduate were the workplace equivalent of lemons, lacking the math, science, and other basics required for information-age jobs. "We were known as the place to send the kids who didn't know what to do, the problem kids," recalls Principal Sandy Walls-Culotta.
What turned Sussex Tech from clunker to Cadillac was a unique reform blueprint that fused vocational education and rigorous academics into a single, full-day curriculum. But that wasn't a preordained conclusion when a group of 30 local educators, business owners, and community leaders gathered to discuss the school's future. A whirlwind tour of model programs around the country convinced them that Sussex needed a top-to-bottom overhaul. Away went the long hours of changing spark plugs or crafting cabinets, with barely a whiff of academics. Now, students in every career "cluster"--traditional disciplines like carpentry or fast-growing fields like health care--also get a stiff dose of advanced math, science, and English.
Future mechanics learn algebra by figuring the optimum mix of fuel to alcohol for race cars. In a day-care center, child development students study psychology, while their peers in environmental science measure the nitrogen absorption of soy beans they planted.
Students also connect academics with their chosen fields through internships. They have worked for the state attorney general, helped build the school's new $13 million wing, and served as nurses' aides in old-age homes. The program also fosters ties among students, their families, and teachers. After choosing a vocational specialty, sophomores move through the school in groups of 15 to 20 students. Parents not only sign contracts that their children will keep up with homework but they help judge senior projects.
Such innovations didn't take hold overnight. For starters, educators underestimated the resistance of students used to "dumbed-down" courses. Failure rates hit 60 percent in some courses. English instructor Judy Adams, who had left a comfortable perch teaching gifted students up state, cried the first time she taught literature to blank-faced future mechanics and beauticians. But soon she had the cosmetology students thoughtfully discussing Shakespearean hairstyles and fashion.
Such changes add up to a winning formula. At 1,046, enrollment has rebounded to its 1970s peak, and hundreds jam the waiting list. Four in 5 graduates go to college, including prestigious places like West Point. Attendance tops 95 percent, and just 1 percent drop out or are forced to leave because of low grades. The true measure of success, however, comes from students like broadcasting major Melissa Schutte, who would never give up learning to direct Newscasts to study at the local "academic" high school her friends all attend. They say it's "boring." Laughs Schutte: "That's the one thing I'd never say about Sussex Tech."--Mary Lord
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FOUNDING A CHARTER SCHOOL
Unhappy? Do It Yourself
What's another option when the local city high school can't challenge your talented teen? Where do you send your learning-disabled son when your regional behemoth proves to be a disaster?
Like plucky parents in scores of communities nation-wide, you might roll up your sleeves and launch a charter high school. These publicly funded, independently governed schools are open free of charge to all wishing to attend. Unlike conventional schools, however, no sclerotic bureaucracy dictates curriculum or staffing. Thirty-six states and the District of Columbia allow citizens to start charter schools; more than 2,000 are now open, focusing on everything from African history to entrepreneurship. In some cities, notably Washington, D.C., and Kansas City, Mo., as many as 1 in 6 or 7 students attends charter schools.
Fueling this rush are some remarkable success stories. Perspectives Charter School in Chicago, which combines rigorous academics with mentoring and internships, has seen rapid gains among its mostly low-income minority students. In two years, the number reading at grade level has shot up from 16.7 percent to 34.2 percent, with even better improvements in math. Last June, 19 of 21 graduates went on to college. At Raleigh Charter High School in North Carolina, a combination of high-level academics and field trips--one music class went to church to study the inner working of an organ--resulted last spring in the highest test scores in the state.
THE PARENT FACTOR. One advantage that charters have over regular high schools is that parents are expected to be involved. At Gateway High School in San Francisco, which incorporates the latest brain research in teaching learning disabled students, a team of fathers and mothers spent Labor Day weekend painting and buffing corridors. Parents not only laid the carpet in East Mountain High School near Albuquerque, N.M., but two or three can be found most afternoons helping--even teaching--in the classroom.
Pamela Blizzard had no idea how much a parent could achieve back in 1998, when she and three other middle-school parents gathered around her kitchen table to plan Raleigh Charter High and fill out the application form that would go to a special charter board. "We didn't know the questions, let alone the answers," recalls Blizzard. How many classes would the school offer? How would it serve teens with special needs? Blizzard buttonholed a special-ed teacher and other authorities, and the application passed muster.
The next task? Finding adequate and affordable space. Blizzard scoured downtown Raleigh rather than compete with the area's galloping high-tech firms for a suburban site. Ultimately, a developer helped the school find space in an old mill a short walk from museums and playing fields. To enroll its 172 students, Blizzard phoned and E-mailed any family that showed interest.
Such involvement is not for every parent, nor are charter schools for every student. East Mountain High may never see a sports uniform. Many students may lack the discipline to complete a semester-long project, as they must at Minnesota New Country School in rural Henderson (last year, one student restored a 1966 Chevrolet Impala). But Philadelphia-area mother Barbara Chandler Allen calls the charter experience "the most empowering thing" she or her son has lived through. This summer, when falling enrollments at the inner-city Charter High School for Architecture and Design threatened the school's opening, the Allens organized a mailing to weekend and evening students at local art schools. Charter High's classes filled with A and B students--and there's a waiting list. "The most important thing is showing young people how to build something from the ground up," says Allen. "These are the things that will stay." Or at least supply compelling material for a college application essay.--Mary Lord
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WHERE TO LEARN MORE
- PARENTS FOR PUBLIC SCHOOLS:
www.parents4publicschools.com,
800-880-1222
- PUBLIC EDUCATION NETWORK:
www.publiceducation.org,
202-628-7460
- EDUCATION TRUST:
www.edtrust.org,
202-293-1217
- CENTER FOR EDUCATION REFORM:
http://edreform.com,
800-521-2118
- U.S. EDUCATION DEPARTMENT:
www.ed.gov/offices/OVAE/nahs
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For more information, see U.S. News Online (http://www.usnews.com).
Accessed on 01/30/2009 from SIRS Researcher via SIRS Knowledge Source <http://www.sirs.com>
