Brighton's Hope

Teaching Quality Is a Moral Imperative

A few weeks ago I experienced a first in my teaching career. Leaving school one afternoon, I was overcome with the feeling I did not want to return the next day. The source of this feeling was my overwhelming frustration at the apathy displayed by several of my colleagues.

My constant inner battle as a curriculum specialist at Brighton is how to balance what is best for children and at the same time nurture needy teachers. How do you work in a situation where the teacher needs are often greater than the needs of the students?

Last year our school had 272 days of job embedded professional development for our faculty of 42. This averages to be about 6.5 days per teacher. My principal and I firmly believe this was essential instructional training for our staff. We purposely chose a professional development model that offered training followed by intense classroom coaching. Yet here we are not quite four months into the next school year and for some teachers it seems we need to start all over again.

On a daily basis, I see teachers who start classes late, chatting on their cell phones while they eat breakfast in front of the students, whom they often refer to as "those kids." There are even a few classes where I have yet to see any instruction taking place.

As I pour over the last nine-weeks grade distribution forms, I realize that in one middle school grade level 60% of the students are failing Math and English. This is of great concern considering 66% of our eighth grade students are overage (we are a K-8 school).

Recently, I observed the teachers' expressions as my principal shared the first part of the video Failure is Not an Option and talked about her own life experience of growing up as child in a school very much like Brighton. She commended the teachers who made a difference in her life. The teacher reactions to this presentation were for the most part thoughtful and interested. However, the reaction of our weakest teachers ranged from rolling their eyes back in disgust to the one teacher who was busy sending text messages on her mobile device.

In our school we constantly strive to give teachers the support they need. At every grade level meeting, I try to give the teachers some materials that will make their work simpler. Our peer assistant from the State Department of Education disaggregates all of their test data, including quarterly benchmark tests, and pinpoints the exact areas of instructional need. Our schoolwide student-teacher ratio is an enviable 10 to 1. Teachers in our school have unlimited resources to use for instruction. We are constantly involved in ongoing job embedded professional development. This year, our faculty wrote professional standards for Brighton teachers that are posted in all classrooms. But we just aren't there yet.

So, how do we become a faculty of professionals? That's different than asking "when will we have professionals on our faculty?" We already do. We have some wonderful, committed teachers. But we are not yet a faculty where professionalism is pervasive. As the person who is here to assist in instruction, I am weary of feeling like I am the classroom monitor or policewoman, and I have an exhausted sense of urgency for what is not taking place for the children of Brighton in some classrooms.

As a professional educator, I am burdened with what Rick DuFour and others write in Whatever It Takes about our moral imperative to teach our children effectively. I believe we also have a moral imperative to our profession to insuring the quality of teaching. This is the bottom line issue in my school—teaching quality. I do not think my school is alone, as other low-performing schools are attacking this issue by partially or totally restaffing themselves. It is time for teachers to take charge of our own profession and set standards of excellence for all teachers to insure that all children, no matter where they live, have a quality teacher in the classroom.

Some readers may think by writing this I am not being supportive of our profession and that I am not willing to do whatever it takes to help the teachers in my school become professionals. This is not true. I hurt for the teachers in my school. Many of them have spent their careers at Brighton trying to make a difference. The majority of the teachers work very hard, but fail because they lack needed skills. These teachers we can help, but it is slow going and students are falling by the wayside while we work through this process. While it is a true dilemma, at least we can make incremental improvements with those who are willing to grow professionally.

However, I do not know what to do with those who will not try and are protected by tenure. This is a real issue in my school, in my state, and in our profession. This is the spectre that haunts me and motivates me to go back every day and try again.

The Heart of Brighton

Every school needs a heart.

Brighton School is lucky enough to have two hearts—our long-time school secretary and her brother, who is our bus driver, custodian, computer tech person, and chef. Nancy and Willie Joe Howard not only live in Brighton, but attended school in Brighton, and have spent most of their adult lives working at the school. These two are true stakeholders and the unsung heroes of so many children who have passed through our schoolhouse doors.

Among our many challenges as a school is that although we are considered a single K-8 unit by our district and the state, we are divided into two buildings, some distance apart on a large, hilly parcel of land. I spend most of my time in the K-5 building where Nancy is housed, so I want to tell you about what Nancy Howard contributes to our school.

This past week, I witnessed her walk 160 Brighton students from the K-5 building to the 6-8 building for after-school tutoring. I was amazed as she marched this great flock of children in a quiet line up the hill. Several of the other teachers observing this scene commented on this feat. In the discussion, one teacher said it is because Nancy knows all the children and their families, and they know she will make a call home if they are misbehaving. That's really the greatest asset she brings to our school—Nancy Howard knows the children! I cannot tell you the number of times that teachers, administrators, and I have gone to her seeking information on a student and she is able to give us exactly what we request.

Last year, I was in awe as Nancy called every child's family who did not send field trip money. Thanks to her persistence, no child missed a valuable experience (our children seldom travel outside their neighborhood). During annual testing, in order to meet the state's standard for test participation, she informed all the parents how important it was to be on time. One day, a student was late and she called the parent and told them they had five minutes to get their child to school! She waited out in front of the school for the child and ushered the child into the classroom. As a result we had 100% participation.

I have seen Nancy make herself physically ill when a child is being mistreated or neglected. I have watched her talk to the most out-of-control student, calming the child down and initiating a solution to prevent this from happening again. I have also observed her quietly, but convincingly, informing students, teachers, and parents what is expected of them at Brighton. She is a powerful advocate for our school and a determining factor in the success we are experiencing.

At the end of last year, I finally got up the nerve to ask Nancy why she had been so nice to me—an outsider who sometimes brought unwanted attention to "her" school. I truly thought she would be my hardest sell on my motives for coming to Brighton. She did not hesitate to tell me that she gives everyone a fair chance. She went on to say she had watched me daily, and she saw I truly cared about Brighton's children. This is the highest compliment I could have ever received.

Brighton's children are blessed to have someone who is their defender, protector, and benefactor. I am fortunate to have Nancy Howard for a friend and colleague. I hope every school has a Nancy Howard. She is truly our heart and soul.

A Sense of Belonging

Last year in my final blog for Teacher Magazine, I wrote about my hesitancy to wear my Brighton t-shirt for fear that by wearing the shirt I was somehow forcing myself on the faculty; a faculty I had brought more attention to than I had ever intended.

Last week, I missed several days of school due to my father's declining health. When I returned to school, many of the children came running up to me calling out "Mrs. Doctor Rogers, where have you been?" (I earned my doctorate a few years ago, and this is what the children have decided to call me.) The children's reaction to my absence was not a surprise—they have been very accepting of me from the beginning. However, many of the teachers hugged me and told me they missed me, and this has not been the norm. I cannot tell you how good this made me feel. I finally belong.

It is difficult when a teacher who has received national recognition goes into a new school setting. You're not just any person, as much as you want to be. This was a hard lesson for me to learn last year, and I've really come to see how important it is for adults in schools to have a sense of belonging.

Last week, this sense of belonging became a reality for four teachers on our staff. Two veteran Brighton teachers and two new Brighton teachers presented a session at the Alabama Reading Association Conference. This was another important step in our effort to transform the negative culture of a failing school into a positive learning community.

When you are a Title I school under School Improvement sanctions for numerous years, the pressures of No Child Left Behind become a way of life. One of the NCLB regulations states that no teacher who works in a "failing" school is allowed to teach in the after school programs funded by federal Supplemental Services. While I can somewhat understand the reasoning behind this regulation, it is very devastating to the teachers in this school. One of the veteran teachers who presented at ARA last week told me that when she learned of this rule three years ago, she decided to drop her pursuit of National Board Certification because she felt unworthy.

Due to my father's poor health and much to my disappointment, I was not able to attend the Alabama Reading Association Conference and be a part of the presentation with this group of teachers. Since I was the one who convinced them that they were ready to present their hard work, I felt I was abandoning them. However, they called me right after the presentation, full of elation. There was standing room only for the session, and several people asked them to come to their school and share the presentation. An instructional specialist from our district attended and took pictures, and they even saved the door sign to bring back to Brighton!

This is a new day for Brighton teachers as they seek a higher level of professional recognition—something they have been denied in the past. I have seen the look in people's eyes when I tell them I work at Brighton. It's a look that says, "What is wrong with you?" I am so proud of the four teachers who stepped out and took a risk. They have moved us farther along the path to dispel this longtime reputation of failure and build a tradition of excellence.