The Education of an Angel, part two:
Turning Lights On
For 32 of her 54 years, Sherrill Adams has been an educator. She’s been teacher and principal, in private and public schools, in cities and in suburbs. And for years, she’s been bothered by a recurring pattern. “Kids come in with their lights on. At kindergarten or first grade, they’re inquisitive, eager, energetic. Then we turn the switch off,” she says, “especially in urban settings, and especially for children of color.”
When Adams heard about the opportunity to reinvent an urban public school, her own lights went on. “This was a dream come true,” says the African American woman, a former nun who grew up in inner-city Washington, D.C. “We’d have the opportunity to train teachers and support staff to a degree not normally available in a public school. We could bring in technology and all the latest stuff.” A sizable, long-term addition to the basic building budget could mean everything from smaller classes to more field trips to increased outreach to parents. Adams’ mind raced with the possibilities.
But she didn’t forget what exper ience had already taught her. “I didn’t think for a minute,” she says, “that this would be easy.”
Long-term residents of Seattle’s Central District, a densely populated, historic neighborhood located due east of the downtown skyscrapers, have seen plenty of other programs and patrons come and go over the years. “People of color are familiar with outsiders who come in and say they know what you need,” acknowledges Adams. “And when programs don’t work, the community gets blamed. Society has given us reason to be suspicious. So when we see someone like Stuart Sloan, a White man with money, the community has a right to ask why we should trust him.”
That question was voiced, loud and clear, at a series of community forums held soon after the Seattle school district agreed to accept Sloan’s gift. In fact, it took some lobbying by Sloan to convince the district that his offer made sense. Previous administrations had turned him down, but when John Stanford took over as superintendent in 1995, Sloan found a leader willing to think in new ways about public education. Stanford was eager to infuse the urban district with new ideas that would benefit children. His concept of reform started at the building level, just as Sloan was proposing. Not surprisingly, then, Stanford embraced the goal of turning a low-achieving, inner-city elementary school into a model of innovation. The superintendent died last year, before T.T. Minor’s metamorphosis was complete. But it was fitting that a choir from the school sang at his memorial service.
Gradually, parents have warmed up to the unique partnership, too. As community members have been assured that they would have a strong say in the changes at their neighborhood school — a school many of them also attended as children — initial suspicion has given way to enthusiasm. “Parents needed to be sure this wasn’t just an experiment,” says Bell, an Associate Professor in the UW’s Department of Health Services who has been hired by Sloan to evaluate the program. “They wanted to be sure their kids would benefit.”
Now in her second school year at T.T. Minor, Adams has survived parent anxieties, staff turnover, external criticism, and the disruption that comes “when you’re trying to create change with human beings.” These are familiar challenges for any school that attempts major reforms. But because of Sloan’s gift and the attention that has come with it, every hiccup at T.T. Minor now happens under a spotlight. “Society wants instant results,” Adams says, sighing as she settles into a rocking chair in the school’s new family center. “And impatience causes people to be critical.”
Instead of trying for an overnight miracle, T.T. Minor is growing into its new shape gradually. Some new program offerings — such as the before- and after-school program that’s not only free, but integrated into the rest of the school day — are available to all children in the building, from kindergarten through fifth grade. But specific classroom enhancements, such as smaller-sized classes, child-centered curricula, and onsite teacher training, are being phased in. During the 1998-99 school year, 80 children in pre-kindergarten and kindergarten were part of the new Enhanced Program. This year, the program has grown to include first grade, serving a total of 120 students. Next year, second-graders will come into the program. By 2003, the whole school will be participating.
Principal Adams is responsible for the education of all 260 students, of course, not just those enrolled in the new program. And that’s led to some inevitable tension. Some parents, for instance, complained last year of “hamburger versus steak” treatment for children in different grades. Some veteran teachers balked at the longer school-year calendar at T.T. Minor, or didn’t want to learn new teaching practices. Last year, Adams had to fill 26 staff vacancies, many with teachers brand new to the profession and the neighborhood. A new schoolwide approach to discipline has also meant some confusion while students learn “peacemaking” skills to settle their own disputes. New students are introduced to these conflict-resolution skills from their first day in school. But older students, accustomed to a more traditional approach to discipline, have had to adjust to the new school climate. “The challenge now is to make it seamless,” Adams explains, “so there is no division.”
Despite the day-to-day challenges, Adams is keeping an eye on the dream that drew her to the Central District last year. “If we’re given time to get it done,” she predicts, “not only will our kids eventually blow the achievement tests out of the water, but they will be leaders. This will be a fundamental, monumental change that will seep into the community.”
