The Great Expectations School (5 page)

Apparently our
Math Trailblazers
was a confusing, “jumpy” text.
Everyday Math,
used by kindergarten through third grade, was more fluid and kid-friendly, but a bureaucratic tie-up prevented using it in grades four and five. There was no science textbook. For social studies,
New York
was supposedly a great text, but there were not enough copies to go around. I was lucky to find a class set in my closet. For science and social studies, we received pacing calendars with two or three lines dedicated to monthly focus concepts. Nobody got a full set of supplemental workbooks for any subject, and teachers had to bring in their own paper for photocopies.

My parents drove up from Cherry Hill to bring a boatload of supplies, including a blue stuffed dinosaur, Mr. Lizard, to encourage class spirit, and their old rocking chair, now rechristened as my Reading Chair. They also delivered boxes of magic markers, chalk, and construction paper, compliments of my roommate Greg's art teacher mom. As an extra touch, my mom brought several rolls of vibrantly colored, school-subject-themed border to enliven my bulletin board edges. The science border, speckled with microscopes and dino skeletons, was a particularly nice touch.

The following day, Ms. Guiterrez visited me. “Mr. Brown. That border is company made,” she declared.

I nodded in cautious concurrence.

“It's distracting. Take it all down or turn it over. We're not a
company. We're a school.” And she stomped off. Guiterrez was technically the second- and third-grade interim assistant principal, but she took on supervisory responsibilities for fourth grade because Mr. Randazzo was often busy “crunching numbers.”

I understood the push to avoid mass-produced inspirational posters in the classroom, although for whatever reason I still remember my fifth-grade teacher's Yoda poster: “The Force is with you when you
READ.
” It never corrupted me as far as I could tell. Down the hall, Marc Simmons and Jeanne Solloway had all kinds of store-bought stuff on their walls. (Simmons had especially splurged on an American flag motif.)

This was a colorful border, displayed at the edges of the bulletin boards, not some prominently showcased company ad. I staple-removed my mom's border, flipped it over, and stapled it back with the blank, gray side facing out. It was the first time I was angry.

Who would be my kids? Everyone else had a set of blue index cards with evaluative paragraphs from the students' previous teachers.

On Tuesday, September 2, Mr. Randazzo told me that Adele Hafner had them and she would give the cards to me. Adele was a middle-aged enrichment teacher with a weathered face and grave demeanor. When I asked her if she had the guidance cards, she snapped in her authoritative Minnesotan twang, “Yeah. You'll get them.”

I didn't. The next day, I passed Adele several times in the hall and she made no mention of the cards. I felt awkward about bringing it up since our brief discussion yesterday had been quite clear. When Adele still did not deliver them the day after, I sought her out again. I walked into a classroom where she was unpacking boxes. “Excuse me, Adele,” I said tentatively, to no acknowledgment. “About the blue cards…”

“Mr. Brown, you don't know me well enough to call me a liar. I told you you'd get your blue cards and you'll get them. End of darn story!”

“Whoa, I didn't mean to sound like I was calling you a
liar
…”

“Except you did. I gave you my word you'd get them and that's that. Sound fair?”

“Okay, but I think there's been a miscommunication. I didn't intend for you—”

“No miscommunication. Alrighty? Good-bye.”

Adele and I were supposed to be collaborators. She was scheduled to prep 4-217 (teach a fifty-minute science lesson during my out-of-class work period) every Thursday morning. Recalling Randazzo's speech about “taking care of our own,” I went to his office.

Mr. R. nodded vigorously as I explained my conflict. “No problem, no problem. There are other issues there. I'll take care of it. Don't worry.”

An hour later, the rubber-banded cards appeared in my mailbox.

I later learned that 4-217 had been Mrs. Hafner's room the previous year, and it was not her idea to relinquish it to a fresh-faced college boy while getting switched to a science cluster position in mid-August. Adele Hafner hated my guts for stealing her class. At least I got the cards. They read:

Lakiya Ray
: Very, very slow.Very disrespectful to classmates and adults. Mother makes excuses for her behavior. She does not complete assignments. She gets an attitude 95% of the day. Very difficult child. She cannot get along with any of her classmates.

Fausto Mason
: Fausto has deeply embedded good traits that have a hard time emerging. He is compulsive, impulsive, insultive [
sic
], and challenges authority at every turn. Although he is bright, he has a total lack of control that impedes his maturation (academically and socially). He is a real challenge! Good luck!

Eric Ruiz
: Eric has made minimal improvement this year. He has difficulty focusing, needs help with organization skills. Referred with support of mother; referral went nowhere. Should be referred again. Eric is immature; he needs a great deal of direction.

Bernard McCants
: Extremely temperamental child; has a tendency to be disrespectful to teachers; reading skills are good, but writing skills are poor. Math skills are also poor. Bernard has a knack for creative writing (poetry) and should be encouraged in this area.

Deloris Barlow
: Deloris has potential to be an academically successful student. However, her propensity for using “inventive thinking” to explain her lack of classwork instead of applying herself is a major stumbling block. She is the embodiment of conflict as she challenges authority figures, as well as antagonizes & alienates her peers.

Asante Bell
: Asante has great difficulty staying focused. Her interactions with classmates can be violent at times. She does not respect the property of others, including classroom materials. Writing skills are very weak. DO NOT place with Virginia Tyne.

Maimouna Lugaru
: Maimouna is generally well-behaved, but is a follower. She finds a special friend and will go with the friend's every move. She loves to write, but gets lost by writing pages and pages. She needs responsibility to feel important in class.

Athena Page
: Athena has excellent work habits and does quality work. At times she has shown a lack of self-control and has made careless and needless mistakes involving classmates. However on the whole, Athena is very sweet and studious.

Hamisi Umar
: Hamisi is a hard worker; his behavior is generally ok. He tries to get away with fooling around, but he will respond to praise. Give him jobs/tutoring others and he is happy. Needs to develop writing skills. Loves to read, enjoys math.

Manolo “Lito” Ruiz
: Has no grasp of basic mechanics despite numerous interventions. Can be a nice boy, but is extremely susceptible to negative influences in his environment. MANY problems at home.

Destiny Rivera
: Destiny is a very quiet and sensitive student. Can be very emotional at times. Destiny needs to use the elevator. She is constantly misplacing work, becomes very distracted at times. Destiny would benefit from additional help in math.

Sonandia Azcona
: Sonandia is an excellent student in both behavior and skill/ability. She is very courteous and participates regularly. Sonandia loves to write and has great creativity. Very beneficial to a student in need.

Julissa Marrero
: Julissa is talkative and can be spiteful when provoked. She needs conflict resolution skills. She can be sullen when redirected. Her mother seems to be supportive and needs a Spanish speaking translator for communication.

Cwasey Bartrum
: Cwasey often gets terrible headaches. Cwasey does all of his homework. Can be very disrespectful to teachers and classmates. Mother is supportive but her interventions seem to roll off his back. Needs help with writing mechanics.

Tayshaun Jackson
: Highly talkative and demands constant attention. Can be combative with teachers. Tayshaun loves math and enjoys demonstrating this at the front of the class. Seems to have above average artistic potential.

Verdad Navarez
: Verdad loves math—needs to improve writing/reading skills. Verdad is generally well-behaved, but can be stubborn. Verdad rarely volunteers to speak in class, he is sometimes lazy and needs to be pushed.

Tiffany Sanchez
: Tiffany is a very promising student but lacks work ethics. She is very sloppy in her work and always has an excuse for missing homework. When reprimanded she becomes non-responsive. Tiffany also fidgets with anything within reach.

Edgar Rollins
: Eddie is a very respectful child. Very shy. He needs help with math and science. No support from home. He does not like to be yelled at. He has been held back 3 times in the third grade. If he is absent for more than 3 days please follow up on him.

My roster listed twenty-five children, so seven kids' cards were missing, giving them a truly blank slate. I showed my class list to several flabbergasted P.S. 85 veterans.

“I have no idea why they always do that to first-year teachers.”

“I can't believe they put Lakiya and Deloris together.”

“Fausto alone will ruin your year. No one can control him.”

“I'm so sorry.”

On September 5, the final day of preparation before the first day of school, I paid the price for my cosmic collision with Adele Hafner. Mr. Len Daly visited my room. Daly was Bob Randazzo's best friend and henchman, a thirty-year teaching veteran who no longer taught classes but retained an administrative position with unclear responsibilities.

“You did the right thing talking to Bob about that situation you had,” he said. “We're here if you need us. That's what it's all about. Don't hesitate to ask for help.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I will.”

“Seriously, we're down the hall. We're all nearby if you need us.”

“Thank you.”

Daly lowered his tone. “Don't need us too much. Especially in the beginning. Prove you can handle yourself.” Now his hand gripped my shoulder with discomfiting firmness. “It's better for everyone.”

O
N SEPTEMBER
8, I woke up at 5:05, methodically showered and dressed, purchased a bagel at the corner bodega, and boarded the F train. I strode through the Great Expectations School entrance with a quickened step, distributing good mornings to everyone I saw.

I had already prepared my chalkboard the previous Friday with the heading:

September 8, 2003

Mr. Brown

4-217

TEAM

I knew that establishing the “team” classroom culture had to happen right off the bat. I needed to be firmest when I was the least experienced, the paradoxical curse of new teachers. I hoped my “make our own class rules” activity was the right kind of opener.

At 7:58, I descended the stairs to the basement level where the students waited in the cafeteria. Each step down brought me closer to the nether din of high-pitched children sounds. I cracked an excited smile, stunned that my weeks of training and years of youthful experience had steered me to this unequivocally grown-up post. For
twenty-two years I had been on one path and twenty-five Bronx children had been on another. Now we would meet. I needed no more convoluted symbols like the blackout to interpret. The real moment was upon me.

“Don't smile!” Ms. Slocumb, a second-year Fellow, whispered forcefully. “Seriously, no smiling!”

Holding a pen and clipboard purely as props, I entered the lunchroom to meet the students. I took in the Spongebob Squarepants bookbags, the girls' elaborate hair settings, jeans with winding embroidered flowers by the cuff, and the boys' Allen Iverson jerseys. Kids. They looked adorable, eager-eyed for the uncertainty-fueled first day of school. I circled the table, shaking each child's hand and introducing myself.

For the first of 183 times, we performed the morning lineup ritual: Mr. Randazzo raised his arm, the signal for silence. All responded by raising their arms in acknowledgment. Randazzo gave a perfunctory welcome speech, and the kids fell swiftly into two lines, separated by gender and ordered by height. He came around to give each class a rubric score of one to four depending on the degree of silence and neatness of the line. I marveled at the grand organization.

Line leaders Hamisi and Sonandia (two with encouraging blue cards), led the crew, halting every two doors in the corridor and every landing on the stairwell to look for the “go ahead” or “wait up” hand signal from me at the back. Meanwhile, I cased my problem-reputation kids. Imposing Lakiya Ray was the tallest in the class, a sour, tough-faced girl with tight braids. Eric Ruiz, whose previous teacher told me he was a “weird kid,” was unreadable at first. Deloris Barlow, a skinny, pigtailed girl, was laughing a lot at the table before lineup but calmed down appropriately. Fausto Mason immediately tipped me off for trouble. Short and puffy-cheeked, he grinned and swaggered with a loose strut.

During summer training, I studied cases that made a convincing argument that students' achievement levels vary directly with their
teacher's expectations of them, regardless of neighborhood or family background. I was determined from the first day to maintain high expectations for all my students, according everybody the blank slate I felt we all needed, even infamous Fausto Mason. After all, he had never had a male teacher and he had never had me.

I assigned the students to desks according to my carefully devised seating chart. Guided by the blue cards, I tried to arrange only one or two loose cannons per group. (City policy mandated that students sit in groups.) My class roster was also evenly divided between boys and girls and African Americans and Latin Americans, so I went for heterogeneous clusters.