Schultz, B. D. (in press).  Spectacular things happen along the way. In J. A. Beane, A Reason to teach: Creating dignity and hope in the classroom. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.

 

Spectacular Things Happen Along the Way

 

Brian D. Schultz

 

The noise level amplified in Room 405. The students were shouting out ideas as I quickly tried to keep up with their growing list. The intensity was beyond measurement as students called out problems that affected them: “teenage pregnancy,” “litter in the park,” even “stopping Michael Jackson!” A lot of the problems had to do with the school: “foggy windows pocked with bullet holes,” “no lunchroom, gym or auditorium,” “clogged toilets” and “broken heaters in the classroom.” Before it was all said and done, these fifth graders had identified 89 different problems that affected them and their community, a challenge I had posed to them just an hour prior. 

As the list grew and I hurriedly marked up the chalkboard with their ideas, some students began arguing with one another that a problem they proposed had already been mentioned. Insightfully, Shaniqua cut through the ensuing debate and stated, “Most of the problems on that list have to do with our school building bein’ messed up. Our school is a dump! That’s the problem.” With this profound analysis there was a sense of affirmation in the room, and the students unanimously agreed the most pressing issue was the poor condition and inadequacy of their school building. The irony confronted me as I looked out at the group of students gathered together on that cold December morning. Most were wearing hats, gloves and coats in the classroom, personifying the real problem they were living. They were very perceptive in citing the numerous problems having to do with the school. These students knew them well; they had lived this injustice their entire school-aged lives.

In short order, these fifth graders listed major problems in need of fixing. In posing the question, I had anticipated the students might decide on simpler tasks like “wanting fruit punch at lunch” or trying to “get recess everyday.” Instead they went for a more challenging issue, one that had been in the community for years: a new school had been promised but was never built. I wondered to myself, were these students really willing to take this problem head-on? Before I could even ask, they were already coming up with ways they could possibly remedy some of the problems with the school structure and constructing plans to get a new school built. Given the opportunity and challenge to prioritize a problem in their community, the children were not only willing to itemize the issues, but were already strategizing ways to act and make change. And so this emergent curriculum began.

 

Framing the Situation

As I teach and learn with my students who reside in Chicago public housing, I continually affirm my notion that the role of the teacher is to provide opportunity and space to students. The teacher ultimately must embrace intelligence and allow students to leverage what they know, and what they already can successfully accomplish. As the students develop this essential opportunity their imagination, interest, and creativity allow them to create a love for their learning that will endure the travesties and injustices they face both outside and inside the classroom.

In Chicago’s Near North side is one of the most infamous housing projects in the country. Notorious for drugs and gangs, and synonymous with failing social programs and Great Society initiatives meant to help low-income citizens, Cabrini Green was first constructed in the early 1940’s, as temporary housing for a diverse group of poor residents. As time went on, and for a variety of social reasons, the temporary housing concept fell through and the red and white high-density, tenement buildings and accompanying row houses became permanent homes for the children and their families. The badly maintained buildings were an eyesore and their mismanagement became symbolic of urban blight and everything wrong with public housing in this country. Now comprised of 99% African American families, the residences have become so dilapidated and deteriorated that the housing authority has declared them unlivable. 

The Chicago Housing Authority’s plan to redevelop the area and make it available for mixed-income families has created a hotbed of controversy as gentrification efforts and the displacement of poor black children and their families occurs. A critical problem with this plan is that instead of making the new development accessible to its current residents, the city and housing authority are uprooting the African American residents out of this high profile, largely sought after land, which sits in the shadows of the luxurious buildings of the affluent Gold Coast neighborhood. 

Almost every account I have read about Chicago’s poverty-stricken Cabrini Green describes the area as a haven for drugs and murder, gang-banging, misery and mayhem. Even in an article lauding my students’ work, the author insisted that “Cabrini Green has all the stuff of which failure is made, and it often delivers door-to-door” (Brady, 2004). Much of this portrayal may be accurate, but the story of these people, especially the children is rarely told. Within this community there are young kids with many needs. They require the same or better instruction, dedication, and nurturing as any other student in any other area. In addition, these students are capable citizens and thinkers with untapped creativity needing the opportunity to demonstrate and practice their intelligences. Darnell said this idea better than I could ever write it: “Even though our neighborhood has problems, we are proud of our neighborhood. This is why we are fighting for a better school. We think everyone should have a good home and a good school. Don’t you agree?”

Because of the challenging conditions associated with the Cabrini Green ghetto, coupled with societal issues and constraints, the perennial question of what is worth knowing is raised constantly for my students. An understanding of how students from this neighborhood learn is imperative, as they continually adapt in a practical, pragmatic sense. Prior to our time together, they told me, there was little nurturing of the strengths or abilities learned out-of-school, but rather a devaluing of their adaptive and street intelligences. Many could not endure life in the projects without “bein’ street smart or learnin’ how to survive…because there are a lot of people who are gonna test you.” At the same time they are seldom recognized in the school setting for their achievements outside of the classroom. If education was measured by the students’ successes in their neighborhood via their own lived experiences, many would out-perform their more affluent peers. As I pondered this situation, I wondered how I might best be able to use their adaptability and street savvy in school. Could an emergent, authentic and integrated curriculum that focused on students’ interests and concerns be successful in the “traditional” classroom?

 

Documenting and Reaching Out 

We began by documenting the problems in the school by taking photographs and writing expository text about it’s shortfalls. The students produced compositions that were astonishing. I could not believe the level of sophistication in their writing. When asked how they were able to construct such amazing work on a rough draft, Tyrone responded, “This stuff is really important and I need to get the word out if I want something done.” These rough drafts became the starting point, and getting the word out is exactly what they did. Quickly realizing that their drafts needed to be transformed into persuasive statements, the students compiled their individual work to create a powerful letter that was sent to school board and city officials, newspaper reporters and concerned citizens. In this letter the students documented “the big problems,” about their school that were “not fixable” and promptly stated, “We would like to invite you to see our school for yourself. We do not think you would let your kids come to a school that is falling apart.” And with this provocative invitation, the stage was set for an adventure none of us will soon forget.

Responses came pouring in immediately. Phone inquires, letters, emails, and visits from legislators as wells newspaper and TV reporters kept the students’ project flowing with questions, suggestions, and encouragement.  In reaching out beyond the four walls of the classroom, the students became quickly engaged in real life curricula. As the class made their concerns known, many people offered insight, assistance, donations and the much-needed publicity. Taking into account advice from these outsiders, the students put together a comprehensive action plan that they believed would “help us get our perfect solution…a whole new school.” 

The students’ action plan became the epicenter of the entire curriculum for the remainder of the school year. Every subject lost its compartmentalization and became integrated and integral in solving the problem of getting an “equal” school. Reading, writing, arithmetic and social studies were all blended in a natural way. Rather than using basal textbooks the students researched pertinent information about how to solve their problem. Their search took them to texts that went beyond their reading level and aptitude, but they were willing to put forth the effort because it had value to their situation. While reading from Jonathan Kozol’s Savage Inequalities, Chester appropriately remarked, “I think this book was written ‘bout us. The author must of come to Byrd school.” And Chester’s statement was not far from the truth, as Shaquita and Marquis documented, “The restrooms are filthy and dirty. It is really smelly in the bathrooms because the toilets don’t flush.  As an example of how bad they are, sinks move and water leaks on the floor.  The sinks have bugs in them and water leaks everywhere. And we do not even have soap or paper towels.  Kids don’t use it in the bathrooms no more since they are so gross and falling apart.”

Reading flowed into current events as students read and reacted to newspaper articles written about their work. In addition they read about techniques for participation, which “showed us how to do things like survey and petition.” The students learned how to prepare documentation including their survey results, photos, and written assessments as they incorporated data analysis and mathematics into their student-driven curriculum to gain support. After taking this documentation to the public, Danisha asserted, “No one who saw our folders could disagree with what we were saying about the school’s problems.” Their willingness and fervor in understanding and making sense of the text went beyond my wildest expectations. The students felt they needed to “get more folks involved and aware” so they developed a website (www.projectcitizen405.com) to “organize all the stuff.” This was no small task as they had pictures and writing from visits of politicians and researchers, hundreds of letters and emails written on their behalf, journal entries, petitions, charts, graphs, surveys and analysis.

Room 405 became the headquarters to “make important decisions about who we should bring in to help” and was a think-tank for investigating ways “we can better get others involved.” The classroom transformed into a campaign office. The students assumed roles of leadership in their quest and as Kamala commented in his journal, “Being an interviewer…makes me feel like a business manager…. It makes me feel real important and other kids look up to me. This has never happened to me in school before.” The eager students were so involved in the development of their curriculum they often came early and left late and even came in on their days off to “get the job done.”

 

“Reactions Came Rollin’”

Their initiative and perseverance paid off. Although there was some disappointment and frustration in not getting an immediate response from “the decision makers at the board of education and the city,” other people certainly responded, hearing the cries for equity in schooling. From local legislators visiting and lobbying on the students behalf, to inquiries and cases studies of university professors interested in writing about the project, to concerned citizens like Ralph Nader paying visits, the students were applauded and awarded for their fine work. At times, though,  I was accused of “being behind this” because, as a Chicago Public School official stated, “there was no way that kids from Byrd school were capable of doing work like this…we have gotten too many letters.” I may have been guilty of being behind my students, but they were the ones fighting to solve their problem, not me. Such comments were frequently made since many people simply could not believe that these “inner city, black kids” were capable of doing such amazing work. As Crown commented, “We are finally getting on the news for somethin’ good!” And this recognition was truly the most important. The students began believing in themselves and understanding their capabilities. As they worked through the issues of their project, they realized they may not get what they were asking for, but the “process was the best part because people listened to us and agreed with us.” 

The students’ efforts did get results. In a classroom that had vastly diverse abilities and aptitudes, students worked at their own pace and took on various roles so as have the most impact on the outcome of their plans. They were not affected by peers’ progress or limitations, but rather sought out opportunities that allowed them to feel comfortable working together while at the same time also stepping out of their individual comfort zones when ready. Prior to engaging in the project, few students valued their learning as typified by many failing to participate in classroom activities, not completing homework, and being frequently absent from school.

Over the many months of the project, the standardized test scores of most students increased over the previous year, several significantly, without direct time spent on test prep. Discipline problems simply did not exist, and attendance was at a sky-high 98%. In addition to their high achievement and although they never directly received any response from the decision makers, some of their listed problems within the school were remedied. Items that the school engineer had been asking to have fixed for years were all of the sudden getting the attention they had lacked. Lights were replaced, doors were fixed, and soap dispensers were even put into the bathrooms! 

But, “Not satisfied with stupid band-aids,” as Reggie put it, the students continued their fight and also continued being recognized. Letters of support kept on coming, a case was established with the U.S. Department of Education, the Illinois State Board of Education invited the students to Springfield, and the Center for Civic Education had the students present at their national convention for Project Citizen. They received numerous awards and ‘project of the year’ designations from the Constitutional Rights Foundation and Northwestern University. Called “young warriors” and compared to “civil rights freedom fighters of 1960s,” they were empowered and uplifted by the response of “people willing to help us that don’t even know us.” 

Now awakened, the young peoples’ intelligence and inspiration, interest and imagination certainly drove their learning. Instead of relying on me to create lesson plans that tailored and contrived different activities, the students had the responsibility to figure out what was most important to solving this problem. They were discovering the most worthwhile knowledge and it was coming from within them.  Instead of focusing on memorization and rote learning, the students were naturally meeting standards of excellence because it was necessary for solving the authentic problem at hand. Their action plan forced them to interact with each other and with a system that could potentially help them solve the problem identified. As each student self-selected various roles in order to enact the parts of the plan, their efforts came to life and the public’s reaction became more intense. In order to make progress and get the attention they needed, the students’ rigor naturally met the standards and objectives expected by the city and state. In fact, their efforts went well beyond any standards or prescriptions because they wanted and needed to learn the skills necessary in order to actively participate in their project.

 

Looking Back

Frustrated by a hidden curriculum based on social class, I was looking for a compromise that would keep my students motivated and engaged in their learning, while at the same time teaching them the necessary skill-base to progress in school. Challenging the accepted notion of teaching socioeconomic classes differently, I sought the equity in teaching and learning that I so strongly felt my students deserved. My initial wondering led me to revisit the perennial questions with my students: “What knowledge is most worthwhile? Why is it worthwhile? How is it acquired or created?” (Schubert, 1986, p. 1). What would happen if, in Room 405 at Byrd Community Academy, in one of the most perilous housing projects in the country, we took on an experiment of our own? What if the students were given the space to problem-pose, challenge, and deliberate like their counterparts in more affluent schools rather than simply being expected to follow the rules and give the right answers as they usually were? Would the experiment prove to be a disaster, would the children be squashed by the system, or would this curriculum prove successful? Could the teacher and students share authority in the classroom working together in practical and cooperative inquiry? Could the curriculum be driven by student interest to meet situational needs? Would we be able to go beyond following the rules and assert creative ideals? Could we challenge the status quo to make the curriculum of, for and by us? Or as one of the girls in the class asked, “Who’s gonna listen to a bunch of black kids from Cabrini Green?” There was only one way to find out.

Using these questions as a framework for a democratic curriculum, and inspired by a Project Citizen workshop (Center for Civic Education), the students embarked on an experience in learning how the government works and ways they might “be active agents in bringing about social change” (Cobb, 1991). As I now look back, I remember a conversation with several students in which one, Sharnell, summarized our work in the classroom as a “way to learn how the government works and ways to work the government.” By embracing a meaningful problem, the curriculum became a catalyst for authentic, natural, and integrated learning to occur.

Through the project, the students were given the opportunity and responsibility to be active participants in the development and design of their own learning. The comments of Tavon, who was a chronic truant prior to participating in this classroom resonate strongly: “I did not feel school was a place for me. I didn’t think it would help me in my life, but this project made me like coming to school…. It did not feel like the boring school I was used to.” His turnaround and newfound dedication to schoolwork and attendance demonstrates the power of a democratic classroom where all students are critical members and are allowed to embrace their own ideas of what is worthwhile.

As their teacher, I learned that content can come from the students rather than be driven into them by forcibly preparing concrete objectives in an artificial manner. Just as students in the more affluent schools are encouraged and rewarded for their insight and creativity, these urban, African American students now could have their voices heard through purposeful action and determination. And in this particular case, their voices were no longer silenced.

There are certainly risks involved in trying to solve authentic curriculum problems and create democratic ideals in a classroom. Students are no longer protected by contrived lesson plans and people will cast doubt as to whether students, especially inner city African Americans, are capable of taking on a real problem. Even the school’s extremely supportive principal initially had reservations about the lessons they might learn from the project. In a National Public Radio interview he said, “If they don’t see things happening, I am afraid that they are going to say, voice all you want, but your voice is a small voice and doesn’t matter.” Today, though, everyone, including the principal, would argue the lessons that were taken away from the project are immeasurable. Tamika succinctly summed up this idea in a journal entry, “We would love to get our perfect solution of getting a new school built, but we have figured out that great things can happen when you fight for what is right…Even though we are not getting a new school we have done great things… like it said in one of the letters supporting us, ‘Spectacular things happen along the way!’ ”

As I write this a year later, I am still in contact with many of my former students. The curriculum the students and I developed together has had a lasting impact on all of us. Opportunities to tell our story continue to emerge. While putting this account together, I thought it was essential and appropriate to involve students in some dialogue about how the piece sounded and to give me feedback about the writing. As I went through the text with one boy, Tywon, I asked him, “Who am I as a white, middle-class teacher to write about you guys?”  Tywon looked me directly in the eye and said, “To me you ain’t speaking outta turn because you not talkin bad or nothin’ about black people…you taking they side and feelin’ what they feelin.”

 

 

Pseudonyms have been used to protect the identity and confidentiality of the students involved in this account.

References

Brady, M. (2004, May 22). Priceless lesson: Teacher, students put learning into action, show what can be done. Orlando Sentinel, p. A19.

Cobb, C. (1991). Mississippi Freedom School Curriculum – 1964. Radical Teacher, 40:1, 5-34.

Schubert, W. (1986). Curriculum: Perspectives, paradigm, and possibility. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall.

 

This account was prepared with the help of several former Byrd Community Academy students, including Tywon Easter, Manuel Pratt, and Lamarius Brewer.