ANN
BIANCHETTI
Diary #26
Our
Wonderful School Is Under Attack
My district's motto is "All Children Can Learn." When I see that printed on the top of the many memos from 'downtown.' I wonder, "Yes, all children can, but will they? And will you, administrators, allow them to?"
Lately that thought has been accompanied by a sense of anger, frustration, disappointment, and helplessness. This month has been one of trials at my school and others in my district, as Paterson returns to local control.
Paterson was taken over by the state 11 years ago. Paterson, along with many other urban districts in New Jersey, were deemed failures, and the local school boards and superintendents were demoted. The decision was made to allow the state department of education to run these inner city schools, and the state chose a superintendent who had the freedom to make decisions without consulting the local administrators. It was also the state-appointed superintendent's responsibility to train the local administrators to do their job.
When the state took over, many local administrators had been indicted for embezzlement (one math supervisor took home $15 million that was intended for computers in the schools) or were managing the schools poorly. The state pointed to failing test scores and high violence rates at the schools to justify their dramatic intervention.
Being a state-run district brought the perk of increased money for the schools and "school managed budgets." Schools—teachers and the principal—were given the authority to decide how much money would be spent and on what. This gave teachers a lot of freedom. I've enjoyed providing a list of what I needed for my social studies classroom each June and having it arrive on time in September.
Staff-run schools of choice
The state takeover was also the impetus for new "public schools of choice" (a.k.a., magnet schools), created to reduce the huge class sizes in most Paterson schools. These academies were styled around themes like performing arts, healthcare, transportation, math and science, leadership, etc. These small schools (mine is one of them) have been jointly run by the teachers and the principal. Each school has been allowed to set its own policies and procedures.This formula is one reason why my school works so well. Teachers felt ownership as we helped create curriculum, discipline policies, school culture and schedules. Decisions, big and small, were brought to the table for everyone to discuss and solve. Nothing was ever demanded of us from the top down. As a result the teachers at my school are some of the best I've worked with. We are all dedicated, devoted and willing to go the extra mile for the kids. We have a very low absentee rate among staff and there are many collaborative projects between subject teachers.
The students
also benefit from this. Our small size gives kids a sense of family. We
all get to know each student extremely well, and they feel comfortable
sharing problems with teachers and finding solutions. Not to sound like
I'm bragging too much, but in the four years we've been in existence we've
had the highest test scores in the district—and only one fight! Kids
want to be at our school.
Which is why I'm so angry, frustrated and disappointed at what I see now
happening. The state has decided that it's time to return to local control.
Unfortunately, the state is putting the control back in the hands of the
very same people who messed it all up 11 years ago.
An explosion of problems
In the month since the transition began, we've experienced an explosion of problems at my school — problems we've never had before. Each problem has been the result, frankly, of incompetence on the part of the "local control" administrators.
The first sign of trouble was when my student council leadership conference trip was cancelled (see my diary entry) due to an administrator who failed to read my paperwork correctly. As a result, the fees for that conference were charged to me. I just found out that the administrator who made the mistake is now denying that he did so (when he at first admitted he did) and that I won't be seeing the money anytime soon.
The next day we were confronted with an administrator called a "parent liaison," who was just restored to her position with the return to local control. This person's job is to keep parents informed of their rights via the school district. She's gone several steps beyond "informing." She has urged two parents who have kids in our school to oppose our uniform policy. We were originally told by the local-control superintendent (the one who cancelled my trip) that because we were an academy we could have uniforms. However, at the last PTO meeting the parent liaison informed us that "You have no right to have a uniform policy, I will talk here, not you."
The superintendent
was present, but he did not defend the policy he had endorsed in the past.
The parent liaison encouraged the parents to sue the school, to confront
teachers, to demand that the school conform to their needs. While I agree
with parent input, it is impossible to change the rules every year to
meet individual parent requests. That would destroy the very thing—consistency
and clear policies—that make our school so successful. The local
control administrators are staying silent. We teachers feel like we have
been hung out to dry. Morale is very low.
The same week we found out that because we are now back to local control,
and a local budget, we no longer have control over what we buy for the
classroom. Our current order forms have all been denied. Our budget for
next year has been frozen and we are told not to expect any more money.
We must make do with what we have. As a performing arts school of some
renown, we travel quite a bit to performances. We also need money for
costumes, scenery and props. Our performance budget was frozen, too; right
before a major competition we have in early May. We are scrambling to
find money to pay for buses to travel to that competition.
Most parents support us
The kids have felt the strain and they've noticed that we teachers aren't as enthusiastic as before. The very things that make our school special and that make it work are being challenged. The silver lining in this dark cloud is that the majority of the parents at my school—I would say 90 percent—are on our side.
They've seen the change in their children. They see how their children want to go to school, how they've become learners and performers. These supportive parents see the safety at our school, the love we all have for each other and their children, and they hear their child sing or act or play his/her violin, trombone or flute at our concerts. They watch as their child dances a solo in our spring recital. They notice the confidence their children now have. And they want things to stay the way they are.
These parents are angry right along with us and will not allow themselves to be pushed around. These parents have all decided to attend the next school board meeting and express their frustrations and their determination to keep our school running as it has for the past four years.
It's also
encouraging to see our students just as determined. Their parents have
shared with them some of the things going on, and they've felt the changes
first-hand as their field trips have been cancelled. Many of my students
plan to speak out at the board meeting, too. Some have told me how they
were not making it in their old school, that this school helped them learn
to like themselves. While my students may complain about our workload
or our high standards and strict discipline, it's evident that they value
what those things have done for them. They don't want their school to
change either.
Perhaps these difficulties are just a result of this transition from state
to local control. I can only hope that it is temporary. The wonderful,
supportive climate I've enjoyed over the past four years would be a terrible
thing to lose. I would hate to think that the rest of my time at The Academy
of Performing Arts was going to be like this last month. If it turns out
to be so, I may have to think about moving on. I hope it does not come
to that; I care about my kids too much.
