What can a poor school do with an extra $1 million a year? A Seattle elementary school agrees to find out.
Downtown Seattle is not far from the city's historic Central District.
Story by SUZIE BOSS
SEATTLE, Washington—
As classroom emergencies go, this one’s pretty minor. A five-year-old boy can’t find his jacket. And he’s upset. His classmates are outside climbing on the new play structure, but his teacher won’t let him go out in shirtsleeves. His mom just bought the jacket, brand new at K-Mart, and she’s not going to be happy if he lost it already. Most of all, he’s worried about missing his chance to be outdoors on this bright fall morning when the air smells like crisp leaves.
So he turns the deep brown pools of his eyes up to the face of the friendly lady in the navy blue business suit.
“Can we please hurry?” he asks, barely louder than a whisper.
Holly Miller answers by putting out her hand. The boy takes hold, and they set off down the hall at a fast clip.
At any other school, this would be an ordinary moment. But ordinary time stopped last year at T.T. Minor Elementary. That’s when Seattle millionaire Stuart Sloan officially adopted this school, serving a high-poverty, predominately African American population in an aging brick building in Seattle’s Central District. Sloan’s commitment is to cover program needs, including an extended school year, an extended school day, small, well-staffed classes, extra meals, uniforms, ongoing staff training in curriculum, and family assistance, including support for mental and physical health. Estimated cost? At least $1 million per year.
Sloan, the 55-year-old former chairman of Quality Food Centers, has been engaged in other high-profile Seattle businesses, ranging from real estate to software. And business sense is part of what has motivated his philanthropy. “The way to ensure we’re growing as a society is to be competitive,” he told the Seattle Times earlier this year. “You just have to be educated” to have a competitive edge as an adult. But his heart also factors into the equation. As he told the Times, “I was really looking to do something I felt could truly make a difference. You have to start young. That’s how we got to four-year-olds.”
Holly Miller was the director of the Seattle Parks Department when Sloan handpicked her to manage the unique public-private partnership at T.T. Minor. And Miller’s attitude lets children know that nothing is more important than connecting them with what they need. Whether it’s family counseling, a well-designed curriculum, or help finding a lost jacket, each thread strengthens the fabric of school and community.
In the long term, the program has the potential to reach far beyond the school walls, predicts University of Washington researcher Michelle Bell, “to produce productive citizens who are whole, strong, healthy people.”
Even with an angel’s help, that’s a tall order. But Sloan’s unexpected gift turns out to be just the first act in this unfolding urban drama. What happens next depends on the whole community.
