Based on three years of research and interviews with students, teachers, and parents, a journalist descrbies the creation of a charter school, the E. C. Reems Academy, from its establishment in 1999 in a poverty-stricken neighborhood of Oakland, California.
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Jonathan Schorr is a native of Washington, D.C. He graduated from Yale University and earned a California teaching credential at Mount St. Mary’s College in Los Angeles. He is a former urban public school teacher and a former reporter for the Oakland Tribune. His writing on education has been published in the New York Times, Los Angeles Times, Education Week, The Nation, and Salon. He lives in Oakland, California.
A decade ago there were only two charter schools in the United States. Today there are more than 2,400, serving more than half a million students. Charter schools are public schools that are free from many of the regulations that have long governed public education. Supporters include many of the country s most prominent educators and politicians, among them President George W. Bush, who hope charter schools will reshape education, especially where it proves most challenging in the inner city. The fact that most charter schools promise smaller classes and more parental involvement makes them immensely appealing to the nation s most disadvantaged families. Charter school detractors, on the other hand, fear that these alternative schools will irredeemably ruin public education, drawing away the talented students and the most involved parents.
Clearly the stakes are high. But few Americans understand what a charter school really is or what is involved in trying to create, attend, and teach in one. Written by a renowned journalist and education writer, and a former inner-city school teacher himself, Hard Lessons is the first book to capture the human drama of the entire experience. For three years, Jonathan Schorr was allowed complete access to the students, teachers, and parents of the E.C. Reems Academy in Oakland, California, making him uniquely qualified to tell their fascinating story. But would the new school succeed in effectively teaching children from urban neighborhoods where success is rare? Would it become a whole new bureaucracy or sabotage itself from within? The answers are found in the moving stories of some deeply involved yet very different individuals.
Among them, there is Nazim Casey, Jr. rescued from his crack-addicted parents, he s the last-chance child who will put inner-city charters to their ultimate test; William Stewart a father whose fury at his daughter s failed public school propels him into activism; Eugene Ruffin the entrepreneur who helped introduce the personal computer to America, then collaborated with Wal-Mart heir John Walton to invest in education; and Valentin Del Rio a young teacher whose idealism turns to exhaustion and the search for a punctual paycheck.
Through successes and setbacks, Hard Lessons reveals just how difficult it is, even with the best of intentions, to offer a quality education to every child in America. The story of E.C. Reems Academy offers invaluable lessons for anyone interested in America s most pressing domestic concern. At once harrowing and hopeful, and in the finest tradition of modern nonfiction, Hard Lessons is one of the most important books to come along in decades.
Chapter 1
Reality
The rage in Lillian Lopez had been burning for some time.
Her anger began with her neighborhood, the Fruitvale district of East Oakland, the city’s greatest Latino stronghold. She didn’t want to live there anymore. For nearly a quarter century, she had worked at one good position after another in the corporate offices of Wells Fargo Bank; certainly, between her income and her husband’s, they could afford to move to a safer, quieter area. She endured the blast of the boom boxes, the screeching cars that made the front bedroom no good for sleeping, the unswept streets. But the hardest part was being scared. Her two younger boys, with their typical walk, their typical clothes, their typical haircuts, looked so much like every other boy in the neighborhood—even she, driving down the street, would mistake other people’s children for her own. One day, she feared, gangbangers with guns would make the same mistake. She couldn’t even let her children ride bicycles on the sidewalk, for fear of the speeding cars turning “donuts� in front of the house. But her husband, Jose, refused to abandon the neighborhood. “This is Mexican town,� he declared, and he wasn’t about to call a moving van to take him away from his roots.
The deepest daily wellspring of anger for Lopez came from her search for a decent school for her boys. In those days, she had no notions about creating a new school, nor even that it was possible—she just wanted to find a place where her two younger children could get an education. Her oldest son, Mart�n, now twenty-seven and born long before her marriage, had enjoyed a relatively easy journey through private elementary and then public middle and high school. But by the time she married Jose and had her next son, Chipito, times—and schools—had changed. Lopez enrolled Chipito at Jefferson Year-Round Elementary, the neighborhood public school. It was a decision she would come to regret.
For starters, Jefferson had run out of places to put children. Designed to house some 700 children, Jefferson had burgeoned to more than 1,100—and in bad years, that number might jump by another 600 or so. California’s grim recession had left it with the most crowded classrooms in America, and struggling Oakland had not built a new school in thirty years. Yet in the Jefferson neighborhood—a mostly poor area dominated by Latino, Southeast Asian, and African-American families—the population had swelled during that time. Bereft of new building funds, the district had responded to the rising tide by hauling one portable classroom after another onto Jefferson’s weathered, cracking blacktop playground. The more the numbers of children grew, the more playground disappeared, until the campus—which sprawled across two unbroken city blocks—resembled an odd little city, with narrow, isolated alleys between the yellowish-tan trailers. The gaps between adjoining portables were covered by plywood, which eventually decayed, opening holes big enough to admit rats, or in some cases, children. The innumerable hidden spaces let graffiti artists work with little fear of interruption.
Yet even with the extra classrooms, Jefferson was still overcrowded, and sought to accommodate the high numbers of students by running year-round. This solution depended on a complicated system of four staggered calendars, so that one “track� of kids would attend during another group’s vacation. The plan had succeeded in thoroughly annoying parents, some of whom had children on various tracks, but had failed to solve the crowding problem. There were still too many kids, and select unfortunate “rover� teachers were forced to move their entire classrooms every month—bulletin displays, phonics charts, art supplies, and all—to classrooms vacated by other teachers. Jefferson, with thirteen rover teachers among a staff of fifty-one, had it worse than any other school in Oakland. And somehow, there didn’t seem to be many alternatives. In 1992, a handful of parents from that crowded part of town had created an independent public middle school called a charter school. But for most teachers in the district, that felt like heresy—like an abandonment of public education as they knew it. Anyway, things hadn’t worked out well in that school, and few wanted to try the experiment again.
Chipito struggled at Jefferson. Like his father, he spoke little English. By the end of his kindergarten year, the school notified Lopez that he would be held back. Dissatisfied, and with few friends at the big public school to help with child care, Lopez enrolled him at a private school attached to a small local college. She was happy, briefly, but then Jose lost his job at a local bakery, and they no longer could afford the school. She moved Chipito again, to a Catholic school with lower tuition costs. There, she knew he was not being challenged, and she confronted his teacher. Her protests served only to make her a hated figure at the school, and the administration warned her that if she didn’t like their methods, she could take her money and leave. At the end of the year, the nun in charge told her, “I think that you and Jose would be happier elsewhere.�
With Chipito entering fourth grade, Lopez returned to a Jefferson in chaos. A cadre of parents was demanding the ouster of the principal and was holding the school’s budget hostage. When she joined the parents committee, Lopez was told that as an outsider she was not welcome in the discussion. The dispute devolved, as Lopez watched, into a fistfight between a parent and a teacher. Things got even worse when it came time for the Lopezes to enroll their youngest son, Alex, at Jefferson. The kindergarten teacher did not show up on time for class most days. The first-grade teacher was a “rover.� The second-grade teacher’s mere presence sent Alex—who usually liked school—into tears. Shortly into the school year, the teacher was fired amid allegations that he had, without permission, been taking students home with him.
While the fruitless search for a decent education stoked Lopez’s fury, other events left her shaken and desperate. Chipito, entering sixth grade, wanted to attend the public middle school, Calvin Simmons, with his friends. He had the support of his father, who did not want to spend money on a private school. Lopez didn’t like the size and impersonality of the middle school, but gave in to the wishes of her husband and son. A month into the school year, following an argument over a girl, a gang of young toughs attacked Chipito in front of the school. They knocked the boy to the ground and began kicking him. Chipito escaped and pounded at the school doors, seeking sanctuary, but no one answered. He was not seriously injured, but for Lopez, the locked doors were even more galling than the beating itself—evidence, to her, that the school did not care about her child. Later, she learned that the boy who led the beating on her son had been jailed at juvenile hall, now implicated in a shooting. Lillian Lopez’s most frightening fantasy had just come home.
In a wrenching decision, Lopez uprooted her children...
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