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Second-Chance School A
fledgling Oklahoma City program turns hard-luck kids into success
stories People, by Susan Horsburgh and Joy Sewing (May 5,
2003)
Rodrick Gold folds his 6'
frame behind a fifth-grade desk and joins his classmates as they
chant multiplication tables in hip-hop rhythm. He may be a man-size
13-year-old, but just months ago his academic skills were those of a
much younger child. "I knew the alphabet, but I didn't know how to
put words together," says Rodrick, who had repeated two grades. He
was a troublemaker too. "I'd do bad things," he confesses, "like
throw a desk at my teacher." His home life was part of the problem:
Rodrick's parents have been largely absent, so he shared his
grandparents' four-bedroom house in Oklahoma City with his three
siblings and up to a dozen cousins. "Nobody," he says, "wanted to
help me."
Until last June, that is,
when KIPP Reach College Preparatory accepted him into its inaugural
class. Since then, Rodrick has turned into an avid--and
accomplished--student. "He went from having the lowest confidence to
the highest," says school leader (KIPP-speak for principal) Tracy
McDaniel. It's transformations like Rodrick's that fuel the KIPP
(Knowledge is Power Program) movement, a nationwide network of 15
middle schools, with another 19 opening this year. Targeting
low-income areas where the public schools are subpar, KIPP schools
place education at the center of students' lives--7:30 a.m. to 5
p.m., five days a week, plus four hours every other Saturday and an
extra month over the summer. (Funding comes from government as well
as private sources.) Parents or other guardians, along with students
and teachers, must sign a "commitment to excellence," pledging to
put school--which can include up to two hours of homework every
night--above all else. "Three-quarters of the kids didn't want to
come here," says McDaniel, 46. "Who wants to go to school longer?"
Yet most flourish. "The teachers are hard, but they care," says
Walter Henderson, 11. "It makes us want to do our best."
At the two original KIPP
academies, in Houston and The Bronx, which opened in 1995, students
beat national averages on standardized tests. But start-ups like
KIPP Reach, in one of Oklahoma City's poorest neighborhoods, still
have to prove themselves. The key, says KIPP cofounder Mike
Feinberg, 34--who hatched his vision with fellow Teach for America
alum David Levin, 33--is teachers "with fire in their belly," chosen
for their extraordinary dedication.
That means being available
to students 24/7, at a starting salary of $ 35,000. Amy Ingram, 28,
who shares KIPP Reach's 63 students with fellow teacher Warren Pete,
gets a call at home at 5:30 one morning from a girl who can't find
her homework. During her 50-mile commute, Ingram talks on her cell
phone to a boy who can't wash his uniform because the power is off
in his house. When she arrives at 6:45, three students are waiting
outside, ready to feed the animals--fish, lizards, a chinchilla,
crickets--that she uses as science teaching aids. Though her long
hours cut into her time with her police-officer husband, Ingram says
the payoff is the bond between faculty and students. "Many of these
kids just want your attention because they don't get it at home,"
she says.
In Pete's class a boy
stands to give a flawless rendition of Dr. Martin Luther King's "I
Have a Dream" speech. It's Friday, so the kids are in business
attire: the boys in neckties, the girls in dresses. It's also
"judgment day," when those who have disrupted class or transgressed
in other ways during the previous week are "porched." The offenders
have to wear their shirts inside out, may speak only to teachers and
must apologize to the class. Today a girl in blue bursts into tears
as she says she's sorry for skipping her homework. Other girls begin
to cry in sympathy, and Pete himself gets visibly choked up. A
29-year-old father of three, he sees KIPP Reach as a second family
for kids whose own kin are often overwhelmed by the stresses of
troubled homes. Says Pete: "We're doing what every public school
should be doing."
Many experts agree. "KIPP
schools use their time well," says Dr. Darvin Winick, senior
research fellow at the University of Texas, Austin, and chairman of
the National Assessment Governing Board in Washington, D.C. "They
begin talking seriously about a student's future from the fifth
grade, so children learn what they can do and what they're expected
to do early on."
Parents are glad to do
their part. "The boys are so busy they don't have time to hang
outside with other kids," says Sherrell Hayes, 27, who is raising
her twin sons, Walter and Ravon Henderson, in one of the city's
roughest housing projects. At their old school both boys were
disruptive, and Ravon was failing. "I didn't like my teacher," he
says, "and I'd make her as mad as I could." Today both boys are
making straight A's, and Hayes consults frequently with their
teachers. "How many other schools offer you that?" she says. "Half
the teachers in public schools don't want to be there."
Which is why McDaniel, a
former principal at a struggling local school, applied for the
year-long KIPP leadership program based at the University of
California at Berkeley. Once KIPP Reach was approved last spring, he
found it a home in a two-room prefab shed behind Dunbar
Elementary--the school he had attended as a child--and recruited
students via newspaper ads, a billboard and direct appeals to their
parents. Then he and his hand-picked teachers began trying to make
up for their charges' wasted years of schooling. "The kids give it
back," says McDaniel. "They work hard."
And they learn to focus on
their dreams. Lanky Rodrick looks like a basketball candidate--but
sports can wait. "My education is first," says the teen, who aims to
attend Howard University in Washington, D.C. Ultimately he wants to
teach reading at a KIPP school--and maybe even transform a kid like
himself. "I didn't want to be anything or think about anything," he
says. "KIPP helped me to be smart."
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