From its opening in 1924 until 1947, Booker T. Washington High School was the only public school in Atlanta for black students. The alma mater of Dr. Martin Luther King, located just down the street from three colleges, was recently split into four small schools in an effort to ensure that the schools would meet Annual Yearly Performance standards. One of these schools, Washington Health Science and Nutrition, has been my school for the last three months since Teach for America and APS placed me here as the tenth grade chemistry teacher.
When I decided to join Teach for America in February of this year, I anticipated late nights planning lessons, the challenges of running a chemistry lab, and the excitement and relief of confirming that students had mastered a challenging concept. I anticipated that an achievement gap would be visible in my own classroom and that students would be encountering extremely challenging circumstances both in school and at home.
Even having heard so many statistics about the achievement gap in America, even having read stories of students who have slipped through the cracks and been left behind by a failing system, I could not have imagined the magnitude of the disparities I would see in my classroom. I only begin to understand the issues when my tenth grade students try to explain to me that 12+13+14+15 = 141 or that there are 99 cents in one dollar, or that “indivisible” means see-through. An appalling 70% of my students failed to meet standards on the math EOCT as ninth graders, and over half of them failed to meet standards on the math portion of the CRCT in eighth grade. Few of them read on a high school level. Based on informal surveys given during the PSAT and during a “We Do it 4 the Hood” assembly, it seems that more of my students have family members who have gone to jail than have graduated from college.
As a homework assignment on the first day of school, I had my chemistry students fill out a mock Duke application. The essay asked them to explain where they wanted to be in four years, where they wanted to be in ten years, and what it would take to get there. The essays revealed that my students understand that the stakes are high for them. An education means a chance at having a real career, a stable life, a safe neighborhood, and an opportunity to look after a family. Their goals range from becoming pediatricians to football players to forensic scientists to “just getting out of this hood.”
Early in the year, we watched a clip from President Obama’s address to American students and discussed whether the unique challenges of poverty create a barrier for students. I expected my students to optimistically say that even if you come from a rough background, you can still fight past the challenges and be successful. They did not take up this argument. Our discussion of this speech was enlightening; my students could articulate the problems of the achievement gap into which they had fallen, as they had witnessed the impact it had on their community.
The thing is, they are starting to prove themselves wrong. Many of my students who are juggling financial issues at home, a dangerous neighborhood, a night-shift, or a child of their own, are still making the time to do homework and build a model of an atom. Students who told me they have no interest in school are starting to come up with proposals for experiments they could try over the weekend. They may be far below grade level, but my students are inquisitive, resilient, and loaded with potential. We have a very long way to go, and the first three months have brought plenty of discouragement and frustration, but the more I get to know my students, the more grateful I am for the opportunity to work with them and witness their sparks of curiosity and revelation.
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