The Real Charter School Debate

This article was published in the November 2012 issue of the Be the Change Charter School's newsletter.  I am one of the members on the Design Team for the school.  

The debate over charter schools in Chicago and across the nation has increasingly become bitter and polarized.  One side consists of the pro-charter advocates, who believe charters are the solution to the public education crisis - the silver bullet.   As depicted in the movie Waiting for Superman, the narrative is that traditional public schools are consistently failing students in low-income neighborhoods (hence the name “drop-out factories”).  Thus, charter schools provide options to families that are more successful at raising student achievement by being given greater flexibility to experiment with innovative methods of education.

The other side is decidedly anti-charter and sees the increase in charter schools as a move by reform-minded politicians to privatize education.  They argue that charters take away resources from neighborhood schools; instead of investing in the schools that exist, charter schools are opened by private corporations and marketed to families as an alternative, though research shows charters do no better or worse than traditional schools in raising student achievement.  And, among other criticisms, charters are accused of skimming the top students from other schools, not accepting or not being able to provide the services for students with disabilities, and counseling out kids who have behavior problems or cannot conform to the culture of the school.

Navigating through these highly charged arguments and finding common ground is difficult.  It may, however, be helpful to look back to the history of the charter school movement to understand the changing definition of charter schools.  We may realize that the pro or anti-charter debate actually hides a deeper concern not about the existence of charters itself but about the types of charter schools that are being opened today.  

Albert Shanker, President of the American Federation of Teachers from 1964 to 1985, first proposed the idea of “charter schools,” which would be publicly funded and centers of innovation.  For Shanker, charters would be created by small groups of teachers or parents who submitted research-based proposals for their school plans to a panel of members from the school district and the teachers union.   

In Illinois, Governer Jim Edgar signed a charter school law in 1996 that would allow the opening of 45 quality public charter schools across the state, with 15 in Chicago.  Since then, the cap on the number of charter schools has been lifted once in 2003 and again in 2009.  In 2004, Mayor Richard Daley and CPS CEO Arne Duncan announced the Renaissance 2010 plan, which would open 100 new charter and contract schools in Chicago.  Thus far, the Renaissance School Fund (RSF) has raised over $50 million in order to open 70 new schools and create 13 charter networks.  (A new fund called New Schools for Chicago was launched in 2011.)  

This policy is perhaps the catalyst behind the emergence of different types of charter schools and, more recently, explains why one type has become more and more common.  The three general types of charter school are (1) “independent” charter schools founded by groups of teachers, such as Polaris, Namaste, and Academy of Global Citizenship; (2) charter school “networks,” which have more than one school campus that share the same board of directors; for example, United Neighborhood Organization (UNO) schools, LEARN Charter network, and Noble Network of Charter Schools (which began as a single campus started by teachers). Some networks are managed by national Charter Management Organizations (CMOs) or Education Management Organizations (EMOs), such as Chicago International Charter Schools (CICS) and Chicago Math and Science Academy, which is managed by Concept Schools.  And (3) a third group of charter schools consists of a diverse mix of those started by community organizations (Erie Elementary Charter School, partnered with Erie Neighborhood House), universities (University of Chicago Charter Schools), and local business or civic leaders.  

Over the past couple of years, the trend in charter approval has been to replicate charters within networks because they can demonstrate a “proven educational model.”  As Diane Ravitch points out, this is vastly different from the original intent of the charter school movement.  Not only did Shanker propose that charter school should collaborate and not compete against neighborhood schools, he was also adamantly opposed to charters operated by for-profit organizations and corporations.  

Ravitch writes, “In 1993, when Shanker saw that the charter idea was going to be used to privatize public education, he turned against charter schools...He became a vocal opponent of charter schools when he realized that his idea was embraced by “the education industry.” She argues for fixing the charter school movement by re-aligning with Shanker’s original concept.  

In a blog post titled “What is Lost” from January 2012, Dr. Marvin Hoffman writes, “What we are losing by excluding [independent charters] from the mix of new schools is a spirit of entrepreneurship that lay at the heart of the charter school concept from the beginning. Charters were not intended to grow into miniature replicas of the larger system and to eventually replace it. They were intended to establish beachheads of innovation that could eventually reach into existing public schools to help them broaden their view of what education could look like...”
As a design team of teachers, we advocate for quality, independent charter schools, who are truly innovative and thus intend to stay small instead of replicate.  After all, the value of charter schools goes beyond test scores but in the possibility of closing the chasm that exists between charter and public schools in a particular community to provide opportunities for all its students.

Counterpoint

An Inconvenient Superman, by Rick Ayers

What Superman Got Wrong: Point by Point, by Rick Ayers

How to fix our schools, by Richard Rothstein

Sign the Statement on Education: Heavy Reliance on Test Scores for Teacher Evaluation is Misguided

Court: No Teacher Speech Rights on Curriculum

NEA's Activist's Toolkit

Leaving the public school system

I have decided to leave the public school where I have taught for 4 years to work at a charter school in the same city. When Huberman announced the 2,700 teacher cuts, my administration claimed to have their hands tied, and teachers performed their jobs with the lowest morale due to the uncertainty and lack of communication. My school became a toxic environment in terms of how teachers treated each other, while at the same time my students continued to impress me with their work. It took quite a bit of effort to protect them from the crap going on outside of the classroom, to focus my attention on their learning.

When school let out in June, I spent the next month agonizing over my next move. I wasn't sure if I would have a position, being one of the newer hires and one of the youngest teachers. Should I stay in the school where I had developed confidence in my instruction and had formed a connection with students and families? Should I stay in a school where I felt unappreciated, unsupported, and silenced?

Then, all my insecurities as a teacher came bubbling up to the surface. If I looked for a job, would anyone hire me? Am I good enough elsewhere or did I get too comfortable at a dysfunctional school?

I know people who call teachers like me a traitor or a sell-out for leaving the urban public school system. It is like giving up instead of continuing the struggle. Others at my school will say that I thought I was "too good" or wonder why I just couldn't be content with what I had. These sentiments are understandable, but broken is broken. I couldn't be happy because my work ultimately wasn't changing things at my school. A colleague said to me, "You need to be in a place where you can be and feel effective as a teacher."

A teacher has several different spaces in which to take action - the classroom, the school, the community, the field of education, and the state or national policy scene. I see these spaces as circles that grow ever larger from the center. My goal as a teacher has always been to be a true actor in the sense that what I do creates change within these circles, and I believe that the space in which I can act should expand over time.

The first couple of years, you act solely within the classroom. You ask yourself how you could have taught that lesson better, what that child needs, how you will assess student understanding...Then, you open your eyes a little wider and notice how the school is running. You think - Hey, this isn't working. I can change this, or how can we do that? You observe the city's education policies, and you form opinions and you make decisions on whether and how to act.

If you encounter resistance when you try to be active beyond your classroom, then the message is that your role is limited to what you can accomplish within those walls and that you are not welcome into any of the wider conversations about education. I'm not saying that teaching is not enough in itself or admirable as a career, but I think many of us have come to learn that advocacy for our students extends much, much further beyond what we teach. We need to change the definition or perception of teacher to encompass advocacy. To be an advocate, it is necessary to take action within the school, be challenged to continuously improve our instruction, and have a voice in policy matters.

It took me a while to get to this point of deciding to leave and start again elsewhere, but there isn't a doubt in my mind that this is the right move for me. There are feelings of guilt and of abandoning something that I've started, and then letting go of the students and the community to which I've grown so attached is difficult. But for the first time in a long time, I'm feeling hope.

It is not about what charters are doing right and what public schools are doing wrong. More and more, the distinction between types of schools and their effect on student achievement have become moot. It is about teachers being pushed to develop their craft and become part of a team of professionals that move the school and move education research and policy. I think I have found a new space to learn and act, and that is exciting.

Angry

It's hard not to be angry right now. The administration at my school and Chicago Public Schools have been intentionally vague about the 2,700 teacher layoffs they are planning. On the last day of school, one of my assistant principals got on the intercom to tell the staff to check our emails over the summer to find out if we are going to have a position next year. And we are supposed to check our mail for a pink slip from the Board. So now I am waiting, and I am angry.

I find that anger fuels a lot of what I do. I went into teaching because I was angry at the unequal and oppressive nature of the urban school system. I thought I could be part of a change in making quality education a matter of civil and human rights.

When I started teaching, I saw how the idea of education as essential to a functioning democracy had been destroyed by a corporate agenda and an obsession with test scores. I used my anger to motivate myself to become an effective teacher, to hold myself (and my students) to higher expectations, to show "them" that success in the classroom went beyond numbers.

Anger also drives what I teach, and sometimes I feel downright subversive. This year, my students discussed capitalism, the history behind immigration issues between Mexico and the U.S., the beginnings of racial stereotypes, and violent versus nonviolent resistance. My students engaged in political and cultural forms of resistance against the anti-immigrant laws in Arizona. My curriculum is non-traditional, not because I want to break the rules, but because I think it's a matter of necessity. What do students need to know in order to be aware and active citizens? The answer seems very far removed from what's in our textbooks and test prep materials.

I am angry now because of the way teachers are being treated. We are simply numbers to be moved around or eliminated at will, just as individual students are defined by a test score. The Board will cut positions because of the "crisis," with no mention of the basis of their decision, no investigation into who the teacher is and how they teach. The Obama administration insists on evaluating teachers based on their students' test scores. What does this say about the value they place on the work of teachers and our students? Are Obama and Duncan truly listening to the many voices speaking out against their policies?

So I am angry, but I'm not sure my feelings of frustration are productive forces anymore. I usually take action, I push myself to keep working, keep fighting. But I can't help feeling a little bit helpless and tired of it all.

I'm sure that this weariness will pass. I will pick myself up and, if need be, find another position and be reminded by the brilliance of my students why what I do is important. I find some hope in the election of the CORE party for union leadership. We as teachers need to be adamant about the value of our jobs beyond the numbers, and right now we need an indication of trust from the government, our administration, and the community that we know what we are talking about.

Renewal of Purpose

A few weekends ago, I attended the first day of the North Dakota Study Group conference held in Mundelein, IL. I had the privilege of listening to Detroit activist and community organizer Grace Lee Boggs and UIC professor David Stovall present their views on the state of the education system today, explain their vision for what it could be, and issue a call for action for all educators. I even had a conversation with Deborah Meier herself (in which I tried to sound intelligent instead of starstruck.)

What I heard at the conference was exactly what I needed after several weeks of feeling powerless at my school. The pressure of ISATs, conflicts with co-workers, and concerns about the emotional health of my students had unearthed old questions and frustrations about what it means to be a teacher. The speeches and discussions with other passionate education activists has renewed my sense of purpose and reminded me once again of the larger perspective in our fight for quality public education. I would like to share a summary and my takeaways from the first day of the NDSG conference.

One of the themes from both speeches was that the future direction of our country is intimately tied to the state of public education. According to Boggs, we are living in a special time, the end of an era dominated by the belief in the old American dream. She says that it is time to use our imaginations to create a new American dream, one based not on capitalism and a relentless pursuit of cognition, but on more democratic principles and on a kind of knowing based on care and connection to humanity.

Both were insistent on the insidious nature of the current system. The path we are on now leads to destruction. The type of education the government is encouraging will create a country of passive subjects, content to believe and do whatever they are told by the media and politicians or those with power. Narrowing down teaching and learning to tests and quantifiable data not only dumbs down our students, but makes them completely incapable of thinking and acting on their own. True democracy, however, requires involved citizens who are able to think critically, discuss and dissent, be creative, have moral responsibility, and be active in changing the world around them...qualities that can't exactly be measured by a standardized test. Boggs used a quote by Albert Einstein to make the point that we need a total shift in consciousness that has yet to occur in our history: "The splitting of an atom has changed everything save our mode of thinking, and thus we drift towards unparalleled catastrophe."

Stovall brought the concept to the ground by showing how mayoral control, business interests, and the gentrification of neighborhoods have essentially disintegrated many public schools in Chicago. The city has strategically dis-invested in its lowest-performing schools and communities, leaving them vulnerable for years. Then, citing accountability measures and the miracle of charter schools, the city has moved to close the schools and "turn them around" in a supposed last attempt to save them. He made clear how the city's actions are based on assumptions about urban youth, poverty, and race as pathological. None of these tactics have solid research to prove increased student achievement, and actually there is increasing evidence against them. Yet Chicago is used as a model of successful reform that is now being replicated across the nation.

For Stovall, and many others, this is a crucial time. It is the end of public education as we know it. There was a palpable sense of pessimism and cynicism throughout the conference about the direction of the nation and whether we would see our vision as a reality in our lifetimes. What gave everyone hope, however, was the simple fact that our kids, our students have the capacity to change the human condition.

Stovall asked of the educators gathered together, "What are we doing knowing what we know?" For me, this was the crucial question. As a teacher, what does it mean to resist, to empower, to trust, to work with students to imagine and create a new, different world? I want to join in on the discussion of what a complete redefinition of effective teaching would look like based on these values. One of the first things that we teachers can do, which Stovall adamantly suggests, is to be clear about what we do and why we do it. We need to have a voice, we need to find the "cracks" within which we can act upon what we believe, and we need to seek each other.

Failing and Thriving

Thought I'd share with you an excellent article I came across in Teacher Magazine the other day. It is actually a review of a new book by Thomas Newkirk called Holding On to Good Ideas in a Time of Bad Ones. I have yet to read the book, but the piece by Mary Tedrow, a teacher in Virginia, really struck a chord. I thought she articulated very well what I attempted to in my post about daily failures as a teacher. Her thoughts reflect what I have been thinking and feeling lately at this point of the year, too.

Here is an excerpt from Tedrow's article entitled "How Teachers Fail - and Thrive."

After nearly a decade of high stakes accountability, the meetings, data collection, pre-tests, post-tests, required lesson plans, reports, and more reports have diluted my view of what kids really need to be “well educated.” Newkirk has written a good reminder.

His book, subtitled Six Literacy Principles Worth Fighting For, is something of a manifesto on behalf of quality instruction—recalling for us the basics that good teachers know but may have lost sight of: Keep the curriculum simple, use what kids already know, let kids write a lot.

The review of essential teaching practices is welcome. But in these most difficult times of my teaching career, I think I needed Newkirk’s cheerleading even more.

In Chapter 8, “Finding a Language for Difficulty: Silences in Our Teaching Stories,” Newkirk reinforced for me that I am—all the way to the bones and beyond—a teacher. Obvious, you say? Perhaps. But there are those days when I leave the building feeling like much less than that.

Newkirk acknowledges that all teachers live with a deep insecurity that we either learn to accept or ultimately ignore for self-preservation. He argues that the profession needs to embrace an awareness that all teachers struggle with regular failures: students they can't reach, lessons that fall flat, explanations that are met by blank stares. He eloquently describes the inevitable class where—because of the time of day, or the season, or the odd mix of personalities—no one appears to have the energy for learning, and the teacher feels mired in lethargy as well. He reminds us that no one is a super-teacher 24/7. Some failure is a natural consequence of the tremendous challenges we take on.

I needed to hear that. I’ve been feeling the failure most keenly of late. Hitting the new round of government goals means that every discussion centers on students who are the hardest to engage. We are asked: Who might fail? What are you doing to ensure this does not happen? What remediation is occurring—with or without system support? Teach harder, we are admonished. Teach harder. This is the message from all corners. It’s a demoralizing one, according to Newkirk. I concur. I’m dancing just as fast as I can.

Newkirk argues that “harder” isn’t the answer. What teachers need is each other. We need to be sharing and discussing student work, bolstering and supporting each other through the inevitable failures, collaborating in manageable small communities, inviting each other into our classrooms. We need to witness daily the great teaching that is already going on inside our buildings.

Newkirk eschews the teacher-hero we all know from the movies. The idealistic views portrayed in these self-sacrificing wonder-workers only undermine the confidence of real teachers who regularly must face failure in their practice. Too often, Newkirk says, teachers deal with the fact of failure in isolation. The true hope of reform lies in a teaching culture where we are expected to share with colleagues, where we are routinely given the time and support we need to find ways through and around failure together. We need to slow down, not speed up the teaching act.

Remember the old chestnut: Put two teachers together, and all they do is talk shop? And why is that? Because we are never permitted time to do it on the job. Because no one else knows what it's like. Because grown-ups need grown-ups. We can't subsist on a diet of all children all the time.

At some point we need to articulate the long view. We need the perspective of many eyes and many ears so that we can survive to teach another day. And even prosper. However, these practices are supported by policies that make us the objects of reform rather than the co-creators.

This idea of co-creation is the hoped-for change that will sustain me through the years beyond 2010: that teachers may one day wrest control of their work from others. If it happens, it will happen by bits and pieces, but it is the most important “good idea” I cling to in this time of very bad ones.

I hasten to say that there are many other excellent reasons to read Newkirk's book. I have several new ideas for informal writing with my students, for instance, and a list of notes on the flyleaf that will no doubt lead me to other good practices. But if you have hit that low place in the school year (or perhaps in the decade of “No Child Left Behind”), you will especially appreciate Newkirk’s offer to help us find “a language for difficulty.”

There is redemption in confession. And here is the affirmation that teachers need to make for and about each other: Our work is hard. And messy. And fraught with the pitfalls of failure. We see it daily and without blinders; we know what is working, what is not. No one grasps the consequences of failing to make forward progress with a student better than a classroom teacher. It is a despair we live with, inseparable from the joys of teaching. We should be able to work on it together.

And another book goes on my "must-read" list!

Voices from the Classroom

A Found Poem of Room 204’s Voices

“Race”

Race is labeling someone of their skin color without even getting to know them.
Race is when someone is judging you.
Race is when you see someone and you say I know what you are going to be when you grow up.
Race is how you classify someone by their skin color or by how they look.
Race is separation of people. Race is something that is a big problem.
Race affects and hurts people’s feelings or attitudes.

Race is only the color of your skin.
Race is a word to say that people are different.
Race is that people have different backgrounds.
Race is a made up group of people that are separated.
Race is a theory that scientists haven’t proven. It is not real because we are all equal and people think different races to be better at other things even though they are not.

Race is not what creates who you are.

We can be an upstander…
by not being racist yourself,
standing up for others if they’re made fun of by someone because of their skin color,
defending yourself like, for example, if someone tells you you’re a certain race, you can say, “Yes, we are and we are happy for it!”

We can be an upstander…
by standing out and working together,
getting to know someone before judging them and try to persuade others to do that as well,
treating everyone equally to make our union a better place to be in,

We can be an upstander by explaining that people who look different are not different because they have feelings, hopes, and joys.