Brighton's Hope

The Season of Hope

This is the season of hope, and as I was rereading my diary from December 2004, I was overcome with my own sense of renewed hope for our work at Brighton School.

Last year at this time, I wrote about one of the teachers telling me I had lost my smile and how this had broken my heart. I did not realize my despair was so transparent. I deeply questioned my choice to work at one of our state's most challenged schools. If you read my last blog, you know I still struggle with the challenges of being at Brighton. This is the hardest work I have ever been a part of during my teaching career.

However, last Thursday, I had an early Christmas gift. The first-ever National Board Certified Teacher in our school system, Becky Doblestein, began a National Board Pre-Candidates Program for Brighton teachers. What a positive step!

She and I have been talking about doing this for sometime, and it has finally come to fruition. I had prepared the teachers for this opportunity, and I thought maybe five or six teachers would come to the meeting. Twelve teachers attended the information session and one more is interested. This was over one-third of Brighton's faculty. I am amazed and delighted.

As a National Board Certified Teacher, I know the grueling work this involves. I also know that going through this process changed my teaching practice like no other professional development. I believe the standards set by the National Board are the standards all teachers should adhere to daily.

I listened as Becky led the teachers through a conversation about their teaching practice and the NB standards, and it came to me that this was one of the few times I have actually heard the teachers discuss in detail all they do to meet the needs of our students. Why don't we have more of these discussions? Simple. We are under so many mandates after being an Alabama "school under improvement" for five years that our lives pretty much revolve around meeting NCLB's Adequate Yearly Progress. Our grade level meetings address what it is going to take to meet these goals. As much as we need time to reflect on the deeper implications of our teaching, that time is very, very hard to come by.

I so admire the teachers for having the courage to even consider pursuing such a process with all the demands they have on them. In all honesty, I have to say if I were still in the classroom it would terrify me to be under the pressure they face daily at Brighton. My heart will always be in the classroom—it is the place I am the happiest. But I do not know how long I would survive in this age of accountability as a full-time classroom teacher. This is why I see my position at Brighton as very necessary. We must provide every bit of support we can for our teachers.

As I look to the New Year, I think there is hope that Brighton will make AYP, but more importantly that with the various professional development programs we have in place the teachers will be given the tools they need to become successful and become the educators they aspire to be.

My wish for the New Year is that success will become synonymous with the words Brighton School.

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.

The Zip Code Issue

According to Webster, the word weary means worn out in strength, energy, or freshness. I realized recently I am weary, but not because of the hectic schedule of work and more work. I am weary because of the surroundings I pass daily on my drive up Jaybird Road to Brighton School.

I am very tired of seeing the huge tree stumps that have lined this road since last March, the many abandoned houses, and the cemetery with the sagging fence, crooked tombstones, and overgrown grass that is directly across the street from the school. This is the limited environment that the children of Brighton witness daily as they ride the school bus or walk through the graveyard to school.

Brighton children live a timeworn, run-down world that in places looks like something out of a Walker Evans Depression-era photograph. The only thing new in Brighton is a Shell gas station. Somehow the rising tide of American prosperity never reached this shore or lifted the boats of these children and their families. How do you break the generational cycle of poverty if you never even know what the world looks like outside of your threadbare community?

During our summer school program, each teacher took a day to ride the bus with the children to see the community. It was always interesting to hear their comments upon returning. The most insightful comment came from an 11-year veteran Brighton teacher. After her bus trip, she commented that we have to do everything we can to educate these children "so they can get out of Brighton." Then she corrected herself and said, "No, we need to educate them so they can go off and come back and help this community. There are too many people sitting on the porch!" She went on to explain that the children were not observing productive citizens going to work.

There has been much talk after the recent disaster of Katrina concerning the "zip code issue" and the likelihood of getting adequate help and support being dependent on where you live. I can so identify with the discussion because I see this first-hand everyday. The zip code of Brighton limits the children in so many ways as they lack access to the world that most of us take for granted. And that world is not paying much attention to their plight.

The one thing the zip code should not affect is the quality of the public school in the area. This is why I am so committed to helping make Brighton the school the children of this area deserve. School is their best hope of breaking through the zip code barrier. Yet we continue to hear negative comments from our own teachers about "these Brighton kids."

Let me tell you, "these Brighton kids" are the bravest and most strong-of-heart children I have ever had the opportunity to know, and the accident of their place of birth should not determine their future or lack of a future.

My Lack of Patience

In my last entry, you may have sensed my frustration as I see too little change in Brighton's learning climate. I believe that part of my frustration comes from my own personality.

I want an immediate fix.

I thought about this recently when cutting the grass. I love to cut grass even though I live in a hot humid climate. I enjoy cutting grass because I can see an immediate result. There is a special curve in the yard where I can turn and look back and see the results of my labor. It was at this curve that I realized the flaw in my personality that leads to much of my frustration about the slow, messy process of school change.

My lack of patience and the fact that I really enjoy the role of a fixer do not always mix well. My late husband and I spent years renovating an older house that had been burned. When my mother and mother-in-law saw the house for the first time, they cried and could not believe this was where we were going to raise their grandchildren. I could not understand their reaction because I had a total vision of the transformation of this burned house into a beautiful home. I knew I had complete control of the transformation, so I never became frustrated.

I have this same vision for Brighton becoming a model school. But I don't have the same level of control — far from it. And I want it to happen now! My sense of urgency stems from the needs of the children. I struggle to balance this sense with what is realistic for the teachers.

Last week, our reading coach asked a fifth grade student what was her reading level. The child responded 2.3. The reading coach went on to ask her if she knew what this meant and the student said that was these were the numbers she used to check out books. The reading coach in a gentle voice explained to the student that 2.3 meant second grade third month and that this was her reading level. The girl immediately began to cry and looked at the reading coach and asked, "What can I do to make it better?"

Of course, the real question is, what can we as professionals in this school do to make it better for this child? I know there are high-poverty schools in our state where most or all of the students are reading on grade level. So why do some of us continue to believe that our particular kids are incapable of the same success?

These are the questions I ask myself daily. How do we break out of this cycle of low expectations? How can I help make Brighton the school the children deserve — a school where teachers can thrive?

And, of course, how fast can we make this happen? Because the heat is on. The grass is growing.

The Snakes Are Back

In previous writings, I have told the story of the univited snakes that inhabited a kindergarten classroom at my school for two years before an effort was made to remove them. I was "introduced" to the snakes during a visit to Brighton when I was state teacher of the year, and my dismay helped prompt their removal. When I asked to be assigned to Brighton after my year as national TOY, I was  given that very same classroom, now snake-free.

My principal has told me to stop telling the snake story, but I can't, because the snakes have become my symbol of the inequity that exists in so many of our high-poverty schools. Today at Brighton, the snakes are back both symbolically and physically.

The first snake appeared this summer on the front page of the Birmingham News. The story revealed that one of the snakes found three years ago had survived. An instructional aide in our school had taken the snake home to her son who raised the snake as a pet. The story went on to say how the snake had thrived under his nurturing care. I stared at the picture and news article for the longest time; I could not understand why this story created such turmoil inside me. I certainly did not begrudge this creature a healthy life. Then it dawned on me—the snake had survived, but would the children who were kindergarteners in that room that year?

This is what happened to those five year-olds after the snakes were found in their classroom. They were moved to the music room where they remained for three weeks, sitting on the floor as very little instruction took place. They returned to their classroom, but several other incidents limited instruction throughout the year. First grade was a productive year, but it was hard to move the students up to grade level. According to our state assessment, many of the students entered second grade at risk. In second grade some of the children had three different teachers due to various factors; the others had teachers who were struggling with the new programs that were put into place. Today these children are in third grade with 82% at risk.

These are the children who haunt me because I know our school failed them, and they are facing a closing window of opportunity. This breaks my heart and as educators we should all be heartbroken for all the children that we lose along the way.

Other "snakes" appeared in the first weeks of school this year. School started on such a positive note with the news of our significant improvement. After three weeks of daily crises, my principal and I looked at each other and finally admitted we were drowning. The horrible feeling of frustration was beginning to overwhelm us.

I guess we thought the improved test scores would change everything. We we wrong. The snakes are still around, at least symbolically.

Many of our frustrations stem from the aging physical plant of the school, which continually interferes with our attempts to maintain a safe, secure, uninterrupted environment for learning. Many academic concerns also remain to be addressed. Some teachers still refuse to adapt to the changes that are taking place, despite the evidence that when the changes are made, students begin to achieve at much higher levels.

I am so proud of the work last year that improved scores, but scores alone can not create a school that is a functional, positive, professional learning community. We still face issues of trust, faith and commitment, both within our buildings and outside in the larger world, where decisions are made — or not made — that greatly impact our chances of success.

A Great Start for Brighton

School started back this year on August 8, 2005, and our school had better news about our test scores than we could have ever imagined.

When you live in the world of a Title I school under many years of federal and state sanctions, your test scores become your heartbeat. This summer when my principal called to tell me our scores, my heart certainly skipped a few beats. Our scores indicated that last year, we went from the 38% to the 88% level in meeting Adequate Yearly Progress—the gold standard of No Child Left Behind.

I asked my principal to repeat this news to me three times before I started jumping up and down! I was still so afraid to share this news for fear this could not be true that I called a resource teacher with our district's Federal Programs to confirm the report. After her confirmation, I felt like climbing the rooftop of Brighton and shouting to the world , "It can be done! Do not deny hope!"

Instead, I began calling all those who I knew had such a vested interest in our success; a former counselor, our state peer assistant, and my family. I did not call the teachers because I felt this was my principal's joy to share. I could not wait to see their faces. I vividly remembered how the teachers looked when my principal shared the 2003-04 scores on the opening day of school last year. Their faces were filled with anger, frustration, and hurt.

This year's opening day was quite a contrast, full of smiles, tears of joy, and glee. It was a great moment in the history of Brighton. As the announcement was made, it seemed the entire tension in the room left and for the first time the teachers carried themselves with pride.

As a result of our good news, our school received some much needed positive publicity from a local news station and local newspapers. In addition, many people wrote letters of congratulation to our faculty, our principal, and myself. Our faculty received a visit from leaders in our local school district and was recognized at the local school board meeting.

The comments that meant the most to me came from the many people who were pulling for us that I never knew. The first came from our local health inspector one of the first mornings during school breakfast. She came up to me smiling and hugged me so hard saying, "You all did it!" The next day one of the maintenance workers from our district came to me and said, "My wife and I saw you on TV. My wife said it was a great thing for you to come to this side of town and show that the children in this area can achieve."

I was so touched to think that so many people were there to cheer us on, and I realized what was happening at Brighton was giving hope to many. I know it is not all about me—not by a long shot—but I feel so fortunate to be part of this Cinderella story.

A Challenging Road Ahead

When school ended last May, I felt as if I had been on the roller coaster ride of my life. I do not know when in my lifetime I have experienced such a vast range of emotions. I began the year with much excitement and anticipation; this was soon replaced with feelings of being totally overwhelmed and completely unprepared.

Ten days before school started my job was changed from second grade teacher to Curriculum Coordinator. My dream of going to Brighton was first to serve the school in any way I could and also to create a model Title I Lab Classroom. However, my principal, who is the only administrator in this K-8 school—located in two unconnected buildings—felt she needed me to serve in another role. I spent most of my time during the year in the K-4 building because this is my area of experience.

When I am asked what I did all day during my first year at Brighton, my response is "whatever it took to insure instructional time for teachers." Those duties might include bus duty, teaching PE, reading to children, planning professional development, modeling lessons, and cleaning bathrooms. One thing I knew for sure at the end of my very first day is I was not prepared for this job.

Although my four degrees, National Board Certification, nearly 20 years in a Title I school, and a wealth of experiences as Teacher of the Year, prepared me for many aspects of my work, I was not prepared for the demands— body and soul —of working in a school labeled a failure and immersed in a culture of poverty. By the end of the first month, I was not sure that I had what it takes to be effective here. This is a question I continue to ask myself daily.

I have adopted a new motto to help me and others remember that all children deserve an equal chance. It is inspired by a quote from Rick Stiggins, who says that as educators our motto should be, "Do not deprive of hope." For all the "Brightons" in our public education system, I'm expressing this simply as, "Do not deny hope."

You can read my summary of my first year at Brighton at the Teacher Leaders Network website. There were bright spots—we've made progress we can be proud of. But we have a challenging road ahead. You can follow our progress in 2005-06 right here!