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Believing in Ourselves

Part I - Chapter 5

STUDENTS, REFORMS,
AND THE BOTTOM LINE -- ACHIEVEMENT


Change for change's sake may have been an early result of the Clark initiative, but the schools and districts that moved ahead soon realized they needed purpose. That purpose was much higher student achievement.

While specific academic goals were not spelled out in the Clark Foundation's request for proposals -- partly because the foundation recognized the limits of standardized test results -- the implied focus was higher student achievement. The bottom line may have been too implied, but being prepared for challenging work in high school means students leave the middle grades with solid skills, including critical-thinking and problem-solving skills. They have goals for themselves and understand what is required of them if they want to keep their options open.

The more successful schools and districts in the Clark network also accepted a challenge unique to those who teach young adolescents in distressed urban areas -- that their students' deeply personal and developmental needs and their academic growth are equally important. Nurturing is essential. But so are high academic expectations.

Schools that know how to put standards and substance into the phrase "student-centered" also are more likely to produce higher student achievement.

Skip Clemons, Jr., fingers the note from one of his teachers, quiet and reflective for a moment amidst the bustle of a hallway at Southern Middle School in Louisville. The note simply says: "God, the Universe and a Hot Fudge Sundae was the last book she checked out of the library. It sounds so much like a book a young girl would enjoy."

The week before, the youngster who took home a fun book for weekend reading had been a sixth grader at Southern; now it was a few days after her funeral. She was murdered by the older brother of her best friend, another Southern student. Although this violence occurred away from school, it violated the sanctity of a school that had worked hard to be a safe, secure place for its students.

Teachers were hovering together, not sure what to anticipate on the first day that the murderer's sister returned, ready to mediate, console, protect students from each other's anger. A grief response team set up counseling. Teachers encouraged students to write about their feelings, but the tension still was strong because violence invaded the special space teachers had created around their students.

Southern probably will recover as time goes by. However, there are other schools in the Clark network that cannot assure their students they are places of safety and security. In psychologist Abraham Maslow's hierarchy of basic human needs necessary for healthy development, a sense of safety and structure ranks first among seven. Having a safe place to learn is first among the needs of urban middle grades youngsters.

At Calverton Middle School in Baltimore, where a classroom was a scene of the murder of a member of the support staff and where students are afraid to walk to or from school, educators do not give students that sense of security. Nor can Frick Junior High School in Oakland, where a student died on campus. Nor can Parkman Middle School in Milwaukee, whose students fear the long walk from home to school. Across town at Kozy, students enter and leave through the back doors because it is easier to monitor for gangs there than at the front of the building.

It is more than coincidence that the schools that achieved the least -- or lost ground -- during the Clark initiative also are the schools where students do not have reason to feel safe. And where the communities around the schools are not safe, either.


TRUSTING STUDENTS TO DO WELL

Another factor distinguishing student-centered schools from others was the degree to which student empowerment became a priority. Student-centered schools are not afraid of it.

Peer mediation, for example, was a popular activity at many of the Clark schools. Yet those that recognized its ability to develop student leadership took the idea far beyond a focus on dealing only with problems between students.

Mann Middle School in San Diego adapted the national Peer Helper model to its needs, selecting a large group of seventh graders to be Natural Helpers, or apprentices for peer mediation. They learn how to work together on teams, to access community resources, and "to help their friends avoid problems," says Barbara Frischman, one of the teacher sponsors.

During the seventh grade, the students build self-esteem and trust with each other. About one-third are chosen to be Peer Active Listeners (PALS) in the eighth grade, a selection that depends more on a student's citizenship skills than grades. The PALS conduct peer mediation -- and much more. They write a "Dear Pals" column for the school newsletter to answer student questions; they tutor, conduct orientations for new students, adopt lunchtime buddies who are new to the school, and help run the school's open house. They also organize support groups for their peers.

"The kids in this school need groups for every reason imaginable," says Frischman, noting that older students can be trained to facilitate them. Peer mediation definitely works, she adds. Of 69 mediations the PALS group conducted in 1994­p;95, only two failed to keep the participants from fighting.

Students would enter the seventh grade with hopes
but by ninth grade few were trying. Most believed that the teachers did not care about them.

Giving young students responsibility, such as they have in PALS, helps them take a positive approach to school. Another scenario, one that was related during a focus group of students in Oakland, could have been a total indictment of the years the students spent at the Clark schools in that city. With one important exception.

Drawn from King Estates, Frick, and Roosevelt Junior High Schools, the students, now in high school, remembered the violence. "Some mornings I just couldn't face it," said one young girl. Another recalled that the graffiti by the cafeteria had to be painted over a half-dozen times every year. The algebra books were old, and there were never enough to go around. Students would enter the seventh grade with hopes -- the honor roll would be full -- but by ninth grade few students were trying, said a former Frick student. Most believed that the teachers did not care about them.

Two young girls, however, both former students at Roosevelt, frowned at the comments, uncomfortable with what their peers were saying. Their experiences had been different, they said, and even though both had experienced prejudiced remarks by teachers, they felt good about their years at Roosevelt. Naresh Duggal, from India, entered seventh grade speaking no English. Ngoc Ta's family is from South Vietnam; her English skills were not much better. However, through the East Bay Asian Youth Center the two girls became involved with the Middle Grades Reform Advocacy Project sponsored by the Urban Strategies Council. They started a recycling program at Roosevelt, felt bold enough to tell school administrators of the need for translators in the office and at parent meetings, and pushed fellow students to get involved.

Most importantly, these two students joined about 200 others from around the district to develop a youth agenda for the district's new middle grades reform plan. The students interviewed peers at four schools (including Roosevelt and King Estates), asking what changes they would like to see, what school qualities would be important in choosing a school, and what they wanted to know and be able to do as they headed for high school.

Given the chance to define a school, the students would have made Maslow nod in approval. Three characteristics at the top of the list that would draw them to a school were given equal weight: expected to learn, a safe campus, and the chance to explore careers. Students graded their own schools with a D-plus on the subject of healthy relationships with teachers or other students. Overall, Oakland's middle schools received a C. Students said they wanted to be challenged academically and to be asked to take more responsibility.

At a youth symposium, for example, the students debated how to make schools better. Roosevelt students decided they wanted to sponsor a school improvement assembly where the audience would be teachers and the presenters would be students, a brainstorming idea that never happened but might have been challenging for both teachers and students.


TAKING CHARGE OF LEARNING

These examples of student empowerment fulfill some dimensions of growing up. Truly student-centered schools, however, push the boundaries farther, giving students control over their learning. Certainly, many of the programs integrated into school-wide visions allowed students to become active learners -- Socratic Seminars, the Algebra Project and Foxfire's oral history projects, Children's Express, Higher Order Thinking Skills, the technology project at Western in which students help shape each other's knowledge base, and portfolios, to mention only a few. But one doesn't need a program to encourage students to be responsible for learning.

In Sandy Mayer's science classroom at Western Middle School, a visitor might be inclined to keep his or her feet off the floor lest one of the snakes tended by the students decides to roam away from its corner. Students also build and maintain bird houses hung outside the classroom across the wide expanse of windows, keeping logs on the birds that come. They construct a rainforest in the classroom from ceiling to floor, even adding a waterfall for effect (they also collected money to buy a piece of a Brazilian rainforest).

The students testified before the city's aldermen
about what they thought was wrong with the proposed plan for a waterfront park, presenting computerized drawings of how it should be redesigned.

Living in the port section of Louisville, the students have studied the ecology and history of the Ohio River and researched the effect of pollution, learning that most of the oil spills come from pleasure boats. The students decided to prepare a pamphlet on the river's importance and sources of pollution, distributing it to hotels and other businesses in the area. Mayer cannot accommodate all of the students who want to join Western's Environment Club, an after-school activity that has changed the design of Louisville's waterfront.

The students testified before the city's aldermen about what they thought was wrong with the proposed plan for a waterfront park, presenting computerized drawings of how it should be redesigned. Not only were some of their ideas accepted, but the students also took charge of two flower beds in the park as their responsibility.

"I am astounded at the divergent thinking skills of these kids," says Mayer. "They are always trying to outsmart me, and I think it is great when they do that." Her way of channeling student behavior is to outsmart them back -- "love for kids doesn't go very far here, they don't trust love." But they respect standing ground "in a way that does not degrade them and teaches them self-control." (Mayer followed a teacher whom the students, literally, had thrown out the window.)

Mayer's teaching draws students into content and allows them to grab hold of the learning experiences. A unit on tracking animals, for example, included five trips to the woods to look for different turds and tracks, with every student prepared to be an expert on one of the mammals inhabiting the area. In each class, a student keeps a record of participation by class members in discussions and their preparation; the chart is posted by the door as they leave. "They are taking care of each other's learning," Mayer points out.


SHAPING PORTFOLIOS:
IN WORDS AND WRITING

During the Clark initiative, portfolios became an increasingly popular tool for student control over their learning, even as the early excitement about relying on them almost exclusively for assessment cooled down. When used creatively, portfolios are much more than collections of student work. They are selected annals that students shape, reflect on, explain to parents and others, and use to understand their own progress over time. Eventually, they can become one of many assessment tools.

Helped by participating in a national demonstration of portfolios, teachers at Muirlands Middle School in San Diego were thoroughly steeped in the portfolio culture -- its language, strategies, and desired results. However, sixth-grade language arts teacher Carol Barry learned over several years that students needed to use their own language to frame the portfolio experience, not "other people's yardsticks."

Barry began by asking her students to just select a few of their best pieces. The next year she used the Arts PROPEL model, asking students to select pieces for different categories, such as favorite piece or most difficult piece; students added a cover letter, telling outside readers about the portfolio. Barry was pleased with this last step, feeling students now had criteria for their portfolio selections.
However, discussions with colleagues at a Harvard University seminar on portfolio assessments the following summer convinced Barry that her students' portfolios did not "catch" what was happening in the classroom. So, she revised the portfolio system again, adapting it to an ability-based approach first used by Alverno College in Milwaukee.

Students built their portfolios on certain abilities: growth in learning, communication, analytical capabilities, problem-solving, or collaboration.

The next school year, students built their portfolios based on certain abilities, such as growth in learning, communication, analytical capabilities, problem-solving, or collaboration. The definitions of abilities were difficult to get over, but Barry did not want to water them down. She provided examples and asked students to write definitions in their own words. The portfolios over the year were closer to classroom experiences and much better sources of feedback for her instruction. But even then, she realized, many students still didn't "get it."

Toward the end of the school year, she asked the students to help her design a simpler system for incoming sixth graders. Six small groups of students took on the task of defining one of the abilities in kid-friendly language. She describes the process:
They scattered to all corners of the room, taking up residence in small clusters on the floor, assigned a scribe, and began dictating. They talked, read, reflected, reconsidered, and revised. Then they began again. They were remarkably attentive to the nuances of language. Comments flowed from all corners: "You can't just say 'good.' 'Good' doesn't mean the same thing as 'interesting.'" "'Does efficient mean the same thing as 'well-written?'" "This says 'defines' but it really means 'figure out.'"

When a group believed it had reworded its ability accurately, it wrote it on a transparency and shared it with the rest of the class. The larger group questioned their interpretation, made suggestions, and either registered approval, or sent the group back to work with a new set of ideas for revisions. This was critical reading, review, and reflection at its best!

When the process was complete, there were standards for the portfolios that the students owned, created by them from a shared understanding, and written in their own language. Barry did not see much difference from what she had done before, but the students did. For example, "takes effective and efficient notes" became "takes clear, well-written notes." Or, "evaluates and articulates problem-solving process" became "describes how you solve a problem." These may seem like nuances to adults, but when the students went back through their portfolios with the new language, the selection became much less abstract. Barry explains: "Their comments justifying the selection were definitions of the criteria. Now they were terrifically fluent with the system!"

The students tagged certain pieces as exemplars to go into a library that illustrates the abilities. Each year, says Barry, the classes will add to that library as resources for new sixth graders.


WHO SAYS, "I CAN'T READ?"

Another Muirlands teacher, assigned to a transitional English class for language-minority students who could not keep pace with the high content taught at the school, could have given the students what they expected -- more remedial drill-and-skill work. Indeed, a class at the "bottom" in almost all urban schools would expect to be remedial, even if the results are disastrous. Of her 24 students, Mary Fipp realized from studying their records, 21 had been in the school system for six years, yet 18 percent were comprehending at only a second-grade level, none above the fourth-grade level.

Their year with Fipp was an extraordinary one, moving students from a blunt attitude of "I can't read," as one young girl blurted out defiantly at the beginning of the year, to self-confidence in English. Too often, schools segregate frequently failed students into classes that have no relationship to the mainstream curriculum -- and forget about them. Fipp's challenge, as she saw it, was to offer the students a reading and writing program that mirrored the standards used in the literature/language program for the sixth-grade cluster classes.

Too often, Fipp says in an article describing her first year, second-language students' interests are far ahead of the basal readers they are forced to use. She selected 10 novels for the school year with manageable vocabularies but of universal interest to pre-teens. In each two-hour block, students discussed the vocabulary from the book, listened to Fipp read the chapter, then read the chapter themselves, writing a running commentary in a literature log. These logs, says Fipp, kept up a dialogue between the reader and characters in the book, giving students a "personal investment" in what they were reading. Students also read to each other in teams and as partners, helping one another with vocabulary and context. By doing this, says Fipp, all students gained a better understanding of the story and improved their vocabulary.

At the end of nine months, all of Fipp's students,
so accustomed to failure, progressed.

Despite initial groans from the students, writing was emphasized as much as reading. Fipp believes that writing from their own life experiences is a good way for students to begin, and she used a piece of her own writing to stimulate her students to critique and analyze. She made them comfortable with writing about themselves by sharing stories from her own life, then added time for meditation and reflection to each class (her students soon objected if this time was overlooked). Students learned to discuss each other's writing in groups and to revise often. Their portfolios began to bulge.

At the end of nine months, all of Fipp's students, so accustomed to failure, progressed. Fourteen percent gained five years in reading comprehension; 15 percent, from three to four years; 33 percent, two years; and the rest, at least one year. Fipp, who learned patience and flexibility and came to understand better the lives of her students, is now reliving this experience each year with a new class of "I can't read" students.


CENTERING ON WHAT COUNTS MOST:
STUDENT ACHIEVEMENT

These examples of empowering students to learn stand out among many efforts to boost student achievement at all of the Clark sites. They are inspiring examples, but ultimately the measure of a student-centered school must be students' academic growth.

Assessment policy is an overarching policy issue that played out differently in each of the cities. The different measures and interpretation of those measures made conclusions about student academic progress difficult. But any change effort such as the Clark initiative ultimately must ask: What changed for students, and what was the effect on their achievement?

As well as gathering anecdotal evidence and supporting ethnographic research studies, the Clark initiative funded the Education Resources Group to provide a variety of student data. ERG shaped its data gathering around the objectives of the program, such as completing the middle grades curriculum on time and improving students' attitudes toward school. It set up comparison schools matched to the Clark schools and used the following measurement tools:
Most of the ERG data cover the years 1990­p;93 and show mixed results on various indicators during that time period. Critical thinking skills showed a steady increase in the average percent correct over three years on the Cornell test. Student commitment to classwork was higher than the national norm during the years of the program. Students in Louisville and Milwaukee tended to have better attitudes toward teachers than the norm; Oakland and Baltimore students, worse than the norm. San Diego students' attitudes about teachers showed a small steady increase on the positive side over three years. Student self-perceptions at all sites were similar to the norm.

More eighth grade students planned for an academic or college prep program in 1993 than in 1991 -- 31 percent, up from 21 percent. The norm nationally is 29 percent. Many more of them also were thinking about careers requiring a college degree.

Much of the reform produced effects that might not
show up immediately in standardized tests, or ever.
But the evaluators describe other indications that students had access to increasingly better teaching.


Student satisfaction with school was lower than the national norm at all sites. Despite great difficulties with gathering standardized test data, the test results led Terry Clark, president of ERG, to conclude generally that student achievement, as indicated by standardized tests, did not improve during the Clark program years. Nor did attendance figures improve, remaining lower than the district average in all but San Diego (they regressed in some schools). Terry Clark also notes that the same ups and downs and general status quo existed in the comparison schools, "so whatever was going on in the district at the time, such as changing the test, affected all schools."

However, much of the reform that began with the Clark initiative produced effects that might not show up immediately in standardized tests, or ever. The evaluators for ERG describe other indications that students had access to increasingly better teaching over the years of the Clark project:
In addition to the ERG data collection, the picture of student achievement can be filled in with local assessment results. They also often tell different stories from standardized tests; in some places local or state assessments corroborate the low performance documented by standardized test data.

In Baltimore, for example, both Calverton and West Baltimore gradually showed some improvement on the state's functional literacy test, attributed primarily to staff development around the Student Team Writing and Student Team Reading programs conducted by The Johns Hopkins University. However, the students' scores on the performance-based Maryland School Performance Assessment System was a shocker. This assessment is interdisciplinary and emphasizes critical thinking. The satisfactory score that state officials have set is 70; in 1994 less than 32 percent of students state-wide met that standard. Eighth-grade students at both West Baltimore and Calverton scored in the single digits on the MSPAP in reading, math, social studies, science, and writing (except for a 15.4 in writing at West Baltimore). This was true even though both schools conducted a "MSPAP Blitz Week" prior to the 1994 administration of the test!

MSPAP is not the kind of test one can prep for easily in a short period of time. It requires fundamental changes in how instruction is delivered, teaching that stresses problem-solving and cooperative learning and that includes high-content instruction.

The most improvement occurred in writing.
All Louisville schools were heavily involved
in Writing to Learn and its follow-up, Integrated Language Arts, taught in a block time period and including speaking and listening.


Kentucky's state-wide assessments measure how well schools move students out of the bottom level of performance -- novice -- and into higher categories of proficiency -- apprentice, proficient, and distinguished. All three Louisville schools moved more students out of the novice level in reading. Western increased the percentage of students at the apprentice or proficient level in math from 10 to 28 and placed 4 percent in the distinguished category, where there had been none in 1992. All schools also improved on science. Iroquois, however, did not meet its overall threshold scores in 1993 and was put on the state's list of schools needing help; it was removed from the list on the basis of improvement in the 1994 scores.

The most improvement (except math at Western) occurred in writing. All Louisville schools were heavily involved in Writing to Learn and its follow-up, Integrated Language Arts, taught in a block time period and including speaking and listening.

On noncognitive measures -- attendance, retentions, and dropouts -- the schools improved slightly or stayed about the same.

The Wisconsin Student Assessment System results in Milwaukee were not encouraging. The school district goal (1993­p;94) was to be at the national norm (50). Kosciuszko Middle School student scores on reading, math, language, science, and social science averaged 27; the average at Parkman was 19. The grade seven writing sample result, for which the school district set a goal of 65 percent of students receiving a score of 4.0, plunged from 57 percent in 1992­p;93 to 39 for the 1993­p;94 school year at Kozy; at Parkman, the decrease was from 49 to 35 percent. (However, the same dramatic decline showed up citywide, dropping from 63 percent to 49 percent.)

Milwaukee also collects data by school on ninth-grade performance. The fall semester grade point averages in 1993­p;94 showed Parkman next to the bottom at 1.09 and Kozy sixth from the bottom at 1.39 (out of a total of 28 middle schools). One wonders how Parkman managed to stay off the bottom; its habitual truancy rate (students with 10 or more unexcused absences per semester) reached 60 percent in 1993­p;94, compared to 14 percent the year before.

Both schools participated in Writing to Learn,
and although funds had run out, the teachers kept it going, sponsoring a summer institute and maintaining
a network of teachers around the principles.

Yet, a year after the Clark project in Milwaukee ended, teachers at Kozy and Parkman had really good news. Both schools participated in Writing to Learn, and although funds had run out, the teachers who took leadership through the project kept it going, sponsoring a shortened summer institute and maintaining a network of teachers around the Writing to Learn principles. The 1995 writing sample score at Kozy improved from 39 percent of students receiving a passing score to 74 percent, putting it ahead of the district norm (70) for the first time in the memory of most teachers. Parkman's scores improved as well, from 35 percent to 66 percent. Both schools moved from the
bottom category -- that of schools needing improvement -- to the category of "improving schools."

The decreases on standardized tests in language, reading, and math scores at the three Oakland schools were as frequent as the slight increases. Those scoring above the 50th percentile on the Comprehensive Test of Basic Skills improved 4 percent at Frick and Roosevelt and decreased 1 percent at King Estates between 1991­p;92 and 1992­p;93 (the last year for which data were available). Yet, the scores themselves were dismal -- only 22 percent of students were above the 50th percentile at Frick, 26 percent at King Estates, and 18 percent at Roosevelt.

Mann Middle School in San Diego experienced slow but steady progress in reading on the Abbreviated Stanford Achievement Test results, although its test score results are difficult to judge because most of its enrollment -- limited-English-proficient students -- is not tested.

Muirlands maintained its high achievement despite detracking; few students fell below the norm (50) in language arts on the ASAT. All students were above the norm in math (its math team continued to be among the top in state competition). In addition, although the number of students was small, the percentage of Hispanic students certified for gifted and talented programs increased and was much higher than the district average.

Compared to students from the middle school that the barrio students would have attended, those at Muirlands scored slightly higher in math and 7 percentage points higher in language arts. Not so encouraging is the dropout rate of barrio Muirlands Middle School graduates who elected to attend nearby Muirlands High School. Over a four-year period -- during most of the Clark initiative --
40 of the 82 students left the rigorous program at the high school.

San Diego is aware of the problems in gathering reliable achievement data about its growing English as a Second Language (ESL) enrollment; in 1995 it selected an alternative assessment system to evaluate progress of ESL students.

There are no data in the Clark program to support a causal relationship between good professional development and improved student achievement. However, one can't ignore the improvement in student writing where Writing to Learn became a focus of staff development.

"It is not so important that teachers here believe students can learn at a high level," she says. "What's most important is that our students now believe that, too."

The full story about improved student achievement in these five districts must await greater alignment of new assessments with curriculum. Also, five years, many say, is too short a time to expect changes made by schools to produce dramatic differences in student academic progress. Nonetheless, schools that became student-centered -- focusing every effort on improving achievement -- learned that students respond to higher expectations of them and support for them.

Louisville teachers, for example, told Clark coordinator Howard Hardin at the beginning of the initiative that "without exception, these kids don't care. They don't value education." Five years later, Fanny Timmer at Western Middle School talked about a transformation that went beyond teachers. Western moved from being a failing school to an achieving one because everyone decided to care. "It is not so important that teachers here believe students can learn at a high level," she says. "What's most important is that our students now believe that, too."


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from Believing in Ourselves: Progress and Struggle in Middle School Reform. By Anne C. Lewis. Published in 1995 by the Edna McConnell Clark Foundation.