Shirley DiMatteo steps into Norman Leach's seventh-period English class,
puts her pile of beige, yellow and purple sheets next to a stack of
Romeo & Juliet books, and waits for the room to get quiet.
The ninth graders are tired, boisterous and distracted. But she has 15
minutes to help them plan their future, so she gets right down to
business.
"You're going to choose something today that's very important," she
says. "I'm going to try to explain it as best I can."
Earlier in the day, she had taken over Leach's blackboard and had made a
chart of the three "small learning communities" that will make up Hope
High School next year, along with the paths students can choose in each
one.
In the Arts community, the chart shows, they can study theater, music,
dance or fine arts. In Leadership, they can explore business, law and
government, or Junior ROTC. In Information Technology, they can work in
television, or focus on computers and computer networking.
The 19 boys and girls in this class are part of Hope's current
Leadership community, a smaller version of what the school plans to
offer next year.
After barely two minutes' explanation, DiMatteo asks if they have any
questions. They don't, nothing major.
Then she hands out the sheets. Purple is Leadership. Beige is Arts.
Yellow is Information Technology. The color they pick, she warns, will
define their course of study for the next three years.
"Once you're in it, you're in it," she says. "That's why it's important."
The specialty they choose is also permanent, DiMatteo warns. Pick JROTC
now, and you're committing to it through senior year. The same with
dance, television or computing.
Few students hesitate. One boy takes two sheets, purple and yellow. One
girl takes a beige, then asks for a purple one soon after.
DiMatteo ends up staying for more than 20 minutes, but it's not because
students want advice from the guidance counselor. It's just that they're
also picking their courses, and it's hard figuring out what level of
Spanish they need, or whether they need geometry or algebra.
Leach, the teacher, helps out for a while, then leans on his desk,
disappointed. The choices seem narrow and unimaginative, and already
carved in stone.
"It's all a done deal," he says. Where, he asks, will they find room for
creativity?
THIS is Hope's moment of truth.
After months of planning, Hope's redesign is starting to play out in
very concrete ways. Students' schedules. Teachers' course assignments.
Decisions about the physical space each small school will occupy.
Until now, Hope's students and much of the faculty had existed in a
world apart from the planning process. As late as April, most students
knew only that Hope was in trouble with the state, and that some kind of
change was coming that would divide the school and separate them from
their friends.
Teachers, who had to vote twice on the plan -- first in January, to give
it a preliminary OK, and then in March, for final approval -- knew much
more. But for most, it was something handed down to them; for various
reasons, they hadn't been involved in crafting the plan.
Knowing this, and wanting the new schools to be shaped by the teachers
and students in them, the redesign team barely touched on key issues
such as the courses to be offered or the basic philosophy of each school.
For teachers, this meant that when they were asked to pick a school --
and some wouldn't get their top choice -- it was almost a blind decision.
Sure, for an art teacher, it was easy to pick Arts. But how was a math
teacher or an English teacher to know how their classrooms would differ
in Leadership or Information Technology?
And for students, the choice came down to a single elective -- dance or
business, JROTC or television. Would they have chosen differently if
they knew English class in one school would include building a
Shakespeare Web site, while in another they'd discuss the merits of
trying Macbeth as a criminal?
Education Commissioner Peter McWalters, whose intervention in Hope last
June initiated the school's redesign, has cited the plan's vagueness as
a major weakness, and he is pushing Hope to change that quickly.
"It's not going to be completely ready by September," McWalters says,
but the work needs to start right away. He also wants teachers to get
plenty of extra training.
School ends in mid-June, but principal Nancy A. Mullen is preparing an
extensive professional-development program for teachers this summer
through The Education Alliance at Brown University.
They will focus on how to help youths with literacy problems; how to
work in teacher teams; how to teach in the 95-minute "blocks" that will
replace Hope's 44-minute periods; and how to do a good job in a new role
teachers will be assuming, as academic advisers.
TO GET Hope ready for next year, Mullen had to make some quick decisions.
Teachers and students needed course assignments, and that required
setting up a schedule and a course sequence for students in each school.
So over several weeks, in Mullen's office, charts were drawn and options
weighed. How would they get students to meet the state
physical-education requirement? Could they set aside a full 95-minute
block for the schools' specialty courses, or only 50 minutes, or a block
once or twice a week?
The schedule they set, with four periods, alternating "blue" and "white"
days, and only half a block's worth of specialty courses for 9th and
10th graders, is just for next year, Mullen says. So is the curriculum,
for that matter -- as the teachers get to work, everything could change.
"A year from September, I expect things will be considerably different,"
she says.
One other compromise may be harder to deal with, however: the new
schools' size. The point of dividing Hope into smaller units was to
ensure that students and teachers know one another, and each student
gets plenty of personal attention. But in Hope's case, "small" is a
relative term.
Since 1997, enrollment has grown 66 percent, to 1,577 as of last fall
(after clearing the roster of no-shows and students who have left, Hope
was down to about 1,490 in April). Mullen's projection for October is
1,657.
Divide that by three, and you have 552 students per school -- far too
many, says Brian Baldizar, a teacher hired to help guide the redesign.
Similarly, Mullen says she expects each teacher to have 104 to 130
students, in classes of 26 each.
Joseph DiMartino, director of student-centered learning at The Education
Alliance and one of Hope's key partners in the redesign, says 104 would
be "OK," but 50 to 60 would work much better, with class sizes in the
teens.
There are ways to make Hope more intimate even with its existing staff,
DiMartino says, but they require creative moves such as combining
English and history into a "humanities" course. School-district rules
currently don't allow that; the question is how bold Hope wants to be.
Money is another issue. Even with bigger-than-ideal classes, Mullen
expects to need 10 extra teachers next year -- something that may not be
possible under the proposed 2003-04 Providence school budget.
Schools Supt. Melody Johnson, who was forced to lay off teachers and
support staff at other schools to meet Mayor David N. Cicilline's budget
guidelines, says she's protecting Hope as much as she can. But to
accomplish its goals, Hope will have to rely on more than just public
funds.
"There are a lot of people reaching out to Hope," Johnson says. "We're
anticipating an infusion of support from multiple arenas."
One strong source of support already is higher education. Along with
Brown, a longtime partner, Hope is working with the University of Rhode
Island and with the Community College of Rhode Island.
And the Rhode Island School of Design, which has long supported Hope's
art programs, has invited Mullen to develop a partnership that would put
RISD's expertise and rich resources at Hope's disposal.
Paul Sproll, director of RISD's Center for the Advancement of Art and
Design Education, envisions RISD faculty and students helping Hope's new
Arts school to develop an arts-infused curriculum for various subjects,
and training teachers to use it.
RISD interior architects would redesign the school's rooms and get
grants to pay for major remodeling. Hope students would go on the RISD
campus as part of their classes and for special projects.
And for Hope's most talented artists, RISD would provide scholarships.
That part has already begun to come to fruition; next fall, Hope honors
student Jose Castillo will be a freshman in RISD's fashion design
program, on a full scholarship.
"I think there are great opportunities here," Sproll says. "It's our
neighborhood school, and there are enormously talented students there."
NO ONE expects Hope to turn itself around overnight. But Mullen and her
team know the importance of making some progress, even in a year of
transition. And 2002-03 hasn't gone badly on that front.
Physically, the school has improved. The first-level floor tiles were
replaced in the fall, and the foyer was painted; the whole school is
cleaner. Hope's greenhouse, which had been abandoned, is being fixed up.
Hope's stock of modern, Internet-connected computers has grown
substantially. Using grant money, Mullen has already hooked up 60 new
machines, and she has 120 more coming, also paid for with grants. A gift
from Brown University supplied yet another 30 computers, with top-notch
graphics software.
Mullen has also fixed little things that had grated on the teachers.
Just before April vacation, she handed out new wall clocks for every
classroom, colorful and with a motivational message. But many of the
classroom phones still don't work, and the heating system kept failing
until winter's end.
The boys' and girls' locker rooms are still dilapidated, and probably
just as "unsanitary" as a New England Association of Schools and
Colleges review team found them in October. Paul Nichols, director of
the Leadership school next year, is working on finding bond money to pay
for an overhaul.
The cafeteria continues to sell greasy food that many students won't
touch, and that can't compete with Thayer Street fare. The whole place
still has a gritty and cavernous feel to it.
But at least it's safer now. With Patrolmen Terrence Green and John
Carvalho boosting security every lunch period, and their car parked at
Hope's door, truants and outsiders are being held at bay.
"There are no intruders anymore," says Reina Castro, a 10th grader.
"Before they'd come in like nothing. It's a good thing that the cops are
here, because they get all paranoid."
THIS YEAR'S state test scores won't be in for months, but efforts to get
more students to participate seem to have paid off.
In 2001, a whopping 63 percent of Hope's 10th graders missed the state's
New Standards math tests, and 72 percent missed the English tests. Last
year, 49 percent missed math and 42 percent English.
The state counts no-shows as zeroes, so while 11.5 percent of the
students who took the 2002 tests met the math-skills standard, Hope got
credit only for 6 percent, their share of the whole 10th-grade
population.
Other high schools have boosted their pass rates dramatically just by
having more students take the tests. This year at Hope, Carrie E. Glenn,
future director of the Arts community, led an aggressive, weeks-long
campaign to get Hope's students to participate. By Mullen's count, 78
percent of students took both the English and math tests; more may have
taken one or the other.
Hope's attendance rate has also improved, to about 82 percent per day --
up from 72 percent in 2000-01 -- but absenteeism is still a major
problem. In the second quarter, nearly one in five students missed more
than 15 days.
Teacher attendance hasn't been great, either. Mullen estimates it at 85
percent, including three maternity leaves and one leave of absence.
Teachers have, however, embraced the professional development that Hope
has offered this year. Only three have not attended a single session,
Mullen says, and each workshop draws anywhere from 30 to 80 teachers.
Slowly but surely, the culture of Hope is also changing, Mullen and
others say. Mutual distrust and individualism are giving way to
collaboration. Teachers are starting to bounce ideas off one another,
and "learning walks," in which groups of teachers visit a series of
classrooms and give feedback to their peers, are becoming part of Hope's
routine.
Yet when it comes to the outside world, Hope's faculty clearly still
feel beleaguered. In a late-April chat with the renowned school reformer
Theodore Sizer, history teacher Deborah Petrarca expresses concern that
Hope's redesign will be deemed a failure if it doesn't produce high test
scores -- even if students thrive academically and personally.
"We're trying to make fully realized human beings," she says. "We've
been so discouraged in the last few years, hearing only about test
scores, and nothing more than test scores."
Sizer, who founded the Essential School at Hope in 1986, now the Arts
Essential community in which Petrarca teaches, offers his sympathy. Hope
will have to work hard, he says, to challenge public perception.
"The way to get good test scores," he says, "is to be born of rich
parents."
ASK THE people of Hope how they feel about next year, and their answers
will run the gamut -- from fear, to skepticism, to excitement.
Mullen has asked every teacher to sign a pledge to be committed to the
school's vision; to rethink and improve their teaching to boost student
achievement, and to support youths academically and personally.
Attached to the same handout was an opt-out form teachers could use to
leave Hope at the end of June; only two did.
Angela Wynkoop, an English teacher, anticipates a tough, but hopefully
productive year.
"This is the best way I can put it," she says: "As we're doing this, the
sun and the moon are still in the sky. . . . With the plan, even if it's
rocky, kids are still going to receive an education. Teachers are still
going to teach. We're going to do the best with what we have."
Valerie Kline, head of Hope's art department, is already helping to
shape the new Arts school, in which she sees great promise. But the
test, she says, will be how much support Hope can get. She was part of
the previous attempt to turn Hope around, and saw it fail for lack of
support.
"There was to be a level of trust by the School Department," Kline says.
"They have to give it an opportunity to happen. . ."
Hope may do better this time, she says, "because of the fact that Peter
McWalters gave us the ultimatum, and because the governor gave us his
support, and the mayor, too. . . . But we need the money and personnel
and resources. We just can't operate under a threat."
Community support is also crucial, Kline adds, and "true parental
involvement -- not just one or two parents, but a committee, if you
will, of 16 to 20, to help with decision-making when it comes to their
children."
Jonny Skye Njie, director of a mental-health initiative sponsored by
Health & Education Leadership for Providence, would like to see students
more involved next year.
And she wants Hope to pay attention to its "social fabric" -- ensure
that there's a healthy, supportive environment for youths, and that
their relationships with adults and with one another are based on mutual
respect.
Some physical improvements would make a big difference, too: "an intense
scrub from top down," a coat of paint, working locks on all the doors,
water fountains, clean windows that open, better classroom phones.
"I think this faculty's easy," she says. "You could get them totally
behind you if you could get some basic problems fixed."
FOR STUDENTS, the look ahead tends to be fuzzier.
It's hard to tell how the changes will affect them, and for many, all
that's clear is that they have a fresh chance to study dance or theater,
and that they're going to be separated from some of their friends.
Linda Juliao, a 10th grader who is on Hope's School Improvement Team,
says her teachers seem "pretty confident" in Hope's redesign plan. She's
confident too, "but I think it's going to be a rough year."
Juanita Nelson, a 10th grader who's participated in some of the team's
discussions of the redesign plan, is more enthusiastic.
"I'm thinking that it's going to turn out good," she says. "You can't
say for sure that it's going to work. You've just got to have it in your
heart."
Asked whether students have enough information about next year, Juliao
says yes, "we know what's coming for us." She's comfortable with the
short presentations that guidance counselors have given. "I think that
was the best way to do it, not to baby everybody."
Rickey Cuoto, a senior headed for URI, the first male in his family to
graduate from high school, is excited for Hope.
"I'm one of the students who will be back next year to see what's
happening," he says. "And if there's something I can do to help, I will.
