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When it comes to public school ZIP codes,there's more than meets the eye

In the old saw about real estate, the three most importantfactors are location, location, location. The same is true ofour nation’s public schools. A location that is desirableusually has good public schools because good schoolsattract families and businesses, which drive up realestate prices. In turn, high-priced real estate increasesproperty taxes, which help fund public schools, whichattract more affluent families. And so on.

Location matters for schools in rural areas, wherefamily farms are fading into history, and for segregatedand impoverished inner-city neighborhoods where manybusinesses have shut down and middle-class families havemoved away.

When it comes to location, a ZIP code—a mere fivedigits—can frequently describe the quality of theeducation that public school students receive andsometimes even the direction their lives will take.In this issue—and in others to come—we takeyou to five ZIP codes to explain the significanceof location when it comes to public education.

PHOTOS (LEFT) DAN PECK STUDIOS, (ABOVE) J. MICHAEL SHORT

feATure > COVER STORY

SUMMER 2013 neatoday 39

A DECADES-OLD BATTLESAN ANTONIO, TEXAS

Jonathan Bryant tapedthe death notice forDemetrio Peña

Rodriguez to his classroom door at John F. KennedyHigh School. The photo on the black-and-white pho-tocopy showed a man with spectacles and a hint of asmile, and described him simply as a “parent andeducation activist.”

For Bryant, Rodriguez, who died in April at age 87,was much more than just an “activist.” He was aninspiration and a reason Bryant accepted a teachingjob in the low-income, predominantly-Latino Edge-wood Independent School District. “I read aboutDemetrio in college,” says Bryant, 31, who substitutedat Kennedy until 2008 when he was hired full time.

Rodriguez was aformer parent of theEdgewood SchoolDistrict who, in1971, joined withother parents tochallenge the state’sreliance on localproperty taxes tofinance publicschools. Like otherstates, Texas’ per-pupil spendingcorrelates to variationsin local property taxreceipts. When Rodriguez v. SanAntonio ISDwas filed, students inpoorer districts received only two-thirds ofthe state funding that was received by studentsliving in wealthier districts. Attorneys forRodriguez (and some other parents) arguedthat the situation created a classification ofindividuals (the poor) that was based onincome. They further argued that because pub-lic school funding is the responsibility of the

state, Texas was in violation of the Equal Protectionclause of the 14th Amendment.

“The whole logic behind our public school systemis that everyone gets an equal chance,” says Bryant,who has a scholar’s knowledge of the case. “Anythingshort of equity is an injustice.”

The case also spotlighted the financial gulfbetween working-class, minority districts like Edge-wood and predominantly white, affluent ones such asthe Alamo Heights Independent School District, justfive miles away.

As Bryant walks the polished floors and orderlyhalls of Kennedy, he points to the glossy white, brickwalls with unfinished faces and words. “Budget cuts,”Bryant explains. “The teacher in charge was laid off.”

‘Bright and Capable,’ Despite ChallengesTen minutes north of Kennedy—past a series of

overcrowded auto repair shops, an aged strip mall,and the 99-acre San Fernando Cemetery, rests aKennedy feeder school: F.D. Roosevelt.

38 neatoday SUMMER 2013

AT A GLANCE

Edgewood IndependentSchool DistrictSpending Per-Pupil : $8,949Graduation Rate: 58%Enrollment: Approximately12,500

WHAT’SHERNUMBER?

Leticia Barbosa (top, right) and a group of teachers atRoosevelt Elementary School judge student scienceprojects in the quiet hours after the last bell. “Anythingshort of equity is an injustice,” says Kennedy HighSchool teacher Jonathan Bryant (right).

PHOTOS: KEITH GLASGOW SUMMER 2013 neatoday 41

But Smith says that’s notall that’s lost. “A way of life isdisappearing,” she says.“Watching the country schoolsfade away is like watching allof our farms fade away. Beforeyou know it, all the barns willbe empty, the pastures will beempty, and the school yardswill be empty.”

The consolidation trendstarted nearly 100 years ago,first cropping up in the 1920s withthe development of motorized trans-portation. For the first time, children couldtake buses to larger schools in further awaytowns rather than walk or ride a horse to a closer,one-room schoolhouse. In fact, Trenton was formedby the consolidation of five such schoolhouses whenlocal farmers agreed that their kids should have amore modern facility. After boundaries were redrawnand taxable land base issues worked out, construc-tion of Trenton Consolidated School began in thespring of 1959 and was completed for the 1959 – 1960school year.

Some were sad to see the historic one-roomschools close, but students were thrilled. The newregional school had indoor plumbing and a gymna-sium, complete with gleaming hardwood floors andbasketball nets. Most of the farm kids had never evenheld a basketball, let alone played on a team.

Construction of the then-new school’s six class-rooms, kitchen, gym, and principal’s office totaled$165,000. Fifty years later, the district is hoping to get$50,000 for the building, which needs a new roof andboiler, and often has unsafe drinking water because ofcontamination from a nearby quarry.

Change Brings ImprovementPrairie View Elementary, on the other hand, is the

newest school building in the Beaver Dam SchoolDistrict. Built in 1998, the light-filled school has all theamenities of a modern facility and was also strategi-cally designed. Realizing the closure of more countryschools was likely, the architect created a floor planthat would allow for easy expansion into thesurrounding fields to accommodate a growing stu-dent population.

In the fall of 2012, the district broke ground on sixadditional classrooms at Prairie View. With the newclassrooms and the transfer of Trenton teachers to

staff them, class sizes will remain small, and bus rideswill also be kept short, since Prairie View is only sixmiles from Trenton Elementary.

“That was how we won community support,” saysBeaver Dam Superintendent Steve Vessey. “Nobodywants to see their community school close, but if par-ents know their kids will still be in small class sizes at amore modern facility, and that they won’t be riding thebus for long periods of time, it’s a lot more palatable.”

Vessey also shared research with the communityshowing how achievement increases in multi-sectionschools because grade-level teachers can collaborateon lessons, share data, and team-teach.

Then there’s the technology.“It’s hard to argue with technology,” he says. “Back

in 1959, they wanted a gym. In 2013, they want wire-less high-speed Internet, laptops, and Smartboards.”


Leticia Barbosa has been teaching for 12 years, thelast seven at Roosevelt. While some teachers mightstart their careers in Edgewood to gain experiencebefore transferring to a higher-paying district, Bar-bosa, who was born in San Antonio, started at a pri-vate school in Alamo Heights and then applied toRoosevelt Elementary.

“We’re on the proverbial wrong side of the tracks,”Barbosa says. “But we (the staff) have high expecta-

tions for our students. They’re bright andcapable.”

Roosevelt is surrounded bydespair. Junked cars rest ondirt lawns. Mangy-lookingdogs run loose in weedsgrowing near an aban-doned shack. Their lacestied together, sneakersswing from telephone linesto signal which gang “owns”

the street. Instead of a religiousfigure, an outdoor altar holds three

discarded jugs of antifreeze. With its manicured lawn, stately appearance and

600-plus students wearing crisp white and blue polo-style shirts and khaki bottoms, the school stands instark contrast to its surroundings. “When I tell peopleI work here, they have no idea what or where it is,”says Barbosa, who is president of the Edgewood Class-room Teachers Association (ECTA).

Barbosa says she’s not surprised by the reaction,since Edgewood has no book stores, museums, movietheaters or high-profile cultural events to attract non-residents. “We do have a Cinco de Mayo parade that isgaining in popularity,” she says. ECTA participates inthe parade by giving books to attendees.

The question remains: What is the best way tofinance schools?

The Rodriguez case won in the federal districtcourt, which ruled that per-pupil spending disparitiesbetween Edgewood and Alamo Heights and otherdistricts were unconstitutional. Although the U.S.Supreme Court reversed the lower court’s ruling in1973, the case brought national attention to stateschool-funding gaps between district haves and have-nots. Since then, the case has been reopened andsettled a half-dozen times. Most notably, it set thestage for a 1984 landmark case, which againchallenged the equity of the state’s school financingsystem—Edgewood ISD v. Kirby. William Kirby was theTexas commissioner of education.

Initially, eight school districts and 21 parents wererepresented in the Edgewood case. Ultimately, 67other school districts as well as many other parentsand students joined the original plaintiffs in contest-ing the state’s reliance on local property taxes tofinance public education. Attorneys for the plaintiffscontended that this method was intrinsically unequalbecause property values varied greatly from district todistrict, thus creating an imbalance in funds availableto educate students on an equal basis.

Since 1984, school districts have sued the state ofTexas repeatedly to wrest more money for publiceducation, resulting in five major court decisions. Thestate has lost them all.

The process began again earlier this year when astate district judge found that Texas was financingits schools in an inadequate, inequitable, andunconstitutional way. The case is back in the TexasSupreme Court.

“Why does the state neglect certain districts?” asksBryant. “Blissful ignorance. I think everyone has got-ten use to the way things are.”

—JOHN ROSALES

WHERE HAVE ALL THE COUNTRYSCHOOLS GONE?TRENTON, WIS.

Beverly Smith was ateaching assistant atTrenton Elementary

School in a tiny Wisconsin farming town beforethe school closed in June 2013 after more than halfa century.

Like many rural schools shuttering their doorsaround the country, Trenton Elementary consoli -dated with a larger school—Prairie View Elementary—which absorbed Trenton’s nearly 100 students andsix classroom teachers, but not its three teachers’assistants. For educators at small, country schools,there are no guarantees. When declining enrollmentsand shifting populations in remote areas blend withstate and federal budget cuts, schools close andpeople lose jobs.


AT A GLANCE

Trenton, WisconsinSpending Per Pupil: $11,540 Graduation Rate: 97.5%Enrollment: 3,611

From top, the new classroomsunder construction at Prairie ViewElementary; Principal Debra Linssurrounded by TrentonElementary students; BeverlySmith lines students up afterone of their last countryrecesses at Trenton.

“We’re on theproverbial wrong sideof the tracks, but we (the

staff) have high expectationsfor our students. They’re bright and capable.” —LETICIA BARBOSA,

ROOSEVELT ELEMENTARY

SCHOOL


At Trenton there was only one outlet in each class-room. Students had to use aging desktops in the tinyschool library with an Internet connection so spotty itkicked them off at least three or four times while tak-ing state tests.

Despite the lure of Smartboards and laptops, Tren-ton students were apprehensive about leaving theirsmall school. They were used to being all together inthe same class year after year. At Prairie View, eachgrade level has two or three classes, so some friendswho had always had the same teacher were split up.

“We knew they’d be worried about moving, so wewanted to make the transition easier for the students,”says former Trenton Principal Debra Lins, whose lastday with the district was June 30. “So we paired upTrenton kids with pen pals at Prairie View, held visita-tion days for the Trenton students to check out theirnew school, and also got the kids together for familynights and movie outings.”

To help ease the transition of the teachers, jointstaff meetings began last spring. This way, theTrenton educators could meet and begin collab-orating with their new colleagues. Like theirstudents, Trenton’s educators were reluctantto leave their beloved country school behind.

“I hated to see it close,” says fifth-gradeteacher Laura Leonard. “We’d become such atight-knit family. We’ll miss knowing the kids allthe way up through the grades.”

Superintendent Vessey knew the school closingwould hurt: “We lose good people, like Principal Lins,and three dedicated support staff.”

But when Gov. Scott Walker slashed educationfunding by $1.85 billion in 2011, the district was alreadyoperating at a $400,000 deficit. The district did a feasi-bility study, and found that the population of Trentonwas steadily decreasing. With declining enrollment,aging infrastructure, and the need for access to technol-ogy, the decision was hard, but clear.

“I could create an argument with my heart to keepthe school open, but not with my brain,” Vessey says.“Fortunately, the community got it. ‘We don’t love it,’they said, ‘but we get it.’”

Hopefully, the next community in the district will‘get it’ when it happens to them. South Beaver DamElementary will likely be the next country school toclose and consolidate with Prairie View.

—CINDY LONG

Find out more about Trenton Elementary School atnea.org/zipcodes.

AMID GREATCHALLENGE,PROGRESSEAST NASHVILLE, TENN.

At the beginning ofeach school year inAugust, students at Ross

Elementary receive a list of 10 basic school suppliesthey will need during that year. Children share the listwith their parents, who indicate what they will be ableto provide. Usually, says third-grade teacher LaurynEngland, only about a quarter of the school’s familiescan afford the necessary supplies.

“On the most basic level, teachers arestruggling to put even the most

basic supplies in the hands ofthe students,” England says.

A similar ritual plays outagain in late May whenRoss teachers assemblepackages of books, educa-tional games, and otherresources that might helpthe children stay engaged in

learning over the summer. Forschools like Ross that have so many

low-income families, “summer dip” doesn’tdescribe a day at the beach or a pool. It refers insteadto a potential decline in learning due to disengage-ment during a long, listless summer.

Ross Elementary sits on McFerrin Avenue inEast Nashville—a 12-square-mile area known for itstrendy restaurants, shops, music clubs, and artgalleries. The urban area also has high levels ofpoverty and crime.

Its students are predominantly African Americanand low-income. Nine out of 10 Ross students receivefree or reduced-price lunch, and the school has facedan all-too-familiar slate of challenges—a yawningachievement gap, low enrollment, teacher attrition,and minimal parental engagement. And since the citystruck down its busing policies in the late 1990s,neighborhood schools in Nashville’s high povertyareas are increasingly isolated as re-segregation hastaken hold across the area.

England notices that friends who teach at moreaffluent schools in the city can rely on parents to

PHOTOS: TONY CENTONZE SUMMER 2013 neatoday 43

provide the supplies and extras that teachers need.Children at the more affluent schools “are obviouslyless ‘school dependent’ than our students,” Englandsays. “They have other avenues, namely the home, tohelp supplement their education.”

While students at Ross may be swimmingupstream, staff report many real improvements andremain dedicated to helping students reach theirgoals. It’s a commitment that’s woven into theschool’s official motto: “Every Student, Every Day,Some Success in Some Way.”

England says the school is lucky to have somestrong community partnerships, though teachers andstaff do have to make the effort to seek them. “But ifwe ask, it’ll be there. Especially if you make it clearhow they’re helping benefits the students.”

“[Ross Elementary School] has a dynamic andsupportive principal, a dedicated and talented staff,and they have been empowered to use their profes-sional expertise to meet their students’ needs,” saysMetropolitan Nashville Education Association Presi-dent Stephen Henry.

Doing What’s RightMany urban school districts across the nation

have become the scourge of the media and lawmak-ers who believe they represent little more than com-plete and utter failure of the public school system.Nashville is no exception. Educators here are notblind to the tremendous challenges, but refuse to fallin line behind ideas they believe will be a disserviceto many of their students.

The Nashville school boardshares the sentiment. From2012 to 2013, it repeatedlyrejected an application fromPhoenix-based charter opera-tor Great Hearts Academies toopen up shop—despite intensepressure from state lawmakersto have the applicationapproved. The new charterwas to have been located inWest Nashville, a mostly whiteand affluent area. Great Heartsoperators did not provide aplan to ensure racial diversity.

In a city with a largely seg-regated student population, thecreation of a school that wouldexacerbate the isolation of low-income students was a non-starter for Nashville’s public

education advocates, according to schoolboard member Amy Frogge.

“We were not about to approve a schoolthat used taxpayers’ dollars to open up in anaffluent part of town without explaining howit was going to attract kids from high-povertyneighborhoods,” she says.

Despite repeated attempts by the statelegislature to force the Nashville school boardto accept the application, Frogge and othermembers voted against allowing the newcharter school.

“The state government was pushing aneducation agenda that can be detrimental to

AT A GLANCE

Metropolitan NashvillePublic SchoolsSpending Per Pupil: $9,586Graduation Rate: 76%Enrollment: 75,080

With poverty and unem-ployment high, manyEast Nashville schoolsrely on communityorganizations andbusinesses to provide school supplies.


“We’re makingprogress but these kids

face enormous challengesin their daily lives.”—LAURYN ENGLAND,

ROSS ELEMENTARYSCHOOL


our most disadvantaged students,” Frogge says. “Itcomes down to basic fairness.”

For England and other East Nashville teachers, theongoing political battles may seem removed from thedaily challenges of teaching in a low-income neighbor-hood. They know it affects them, but school days areshort, resources are scarce, and achieving the schoolmotto of finding “some success in some way” for everystudent can be elusive.

“We’re making progress but these kids faceenormous challenges in their daily lives,” Englandsays. “As teachers, we can’t change their economicsituation, but we can help these students once theywalk into school.”

“Of all the things these kids lack, having goodteachers at a good school shouldn’t be one of them.”

—TIM WALKER

EXCLUSIVE AND INCLUSIVE BETHESDA-CHEVY CHASE, MD.

On the quiet, leafystreets of Bethesda andChevy Chase, Md., sit

stately homes with professionally manicured lawnsand circular driveways cradling European cars.Nearby busy shopping corridors are lined with winebars, gourmet markets, and upscale stores like SaksFifth Avenue and Neiman Marcus.

This Washington, D.C., suburb is part of Mont-gomery County, Md., among the nation’s wealthiestcounties. Many of its public high school studentsattend Bethesda-Chevy Chase High School (B-CC),consistently ranked as one of the best public highschools in the nation. The school also rivals the area’smost elite private schools, and has educated the chil-dren of ambassadors, World Bank economists, andWashington lobbyists.

But B-CC is hardly a country club school; it is madeup of a broad mix of students from diverse economicbackgrounds. It serves middle- and low-income stu-dents from nearby Kensington and Silver Spring, andfrom Bethesda and Chevy Chase. According to recent

statistics, about 19 percent of B-CC students qualify forfree or reduced-price meals.

A more remarkable statistic, however, is that 96percent of the school’s students—including thosewho come from the stately homes andthose who live in more afford-able apartments or town-houses—head to college.

“We expect everyoneto do well here,” says B-CC resource counselorColleen Desmond. “It’s aculture of expectation—all of our students areexpected to take rigorousclasses with the support theyneed. And because of that, all ourkids achieve.”

Research backs her up. A Century Foundationstudy, “Housing Policy Is School Policy,” found thatlow-income students in Montgomery County whoattend schools with low levels of poverty significantlyoutperform low-income students who attend schoolswith high poverty rates. This includes high-povertyschools with state-of-the-art educational interven-tions. According to the study, it’s because of thecounty’s economic integration.

Under Montgomery County’s zoning policy, thepublic housing authority can purchase one-third ofthe homes within each subdivision to operate as sub-sidized housing. Thus, families with lower incomescan live in affluent neighborhoods and send their kidsto school alongside students from middle- or higher-income families.

Why do they do better once they’re at these moreaffluent schools? Century Foundation researcherRichard Kahlenberg, who supervised the study, pointsto three factors: students, parents, and educators.

“It’s influential for an economically disadvantagedstudent to be in a school where classmates expect togo on to college and are more academically engaged,”Kahlenberg explains. “Typically, they’re more engagedbecause of parents who, for a variety of reasons are ina better position to be involved in school affairs.”Adding that affluent parents are “four times as likely to be members of the PTA and twice as likely to volun-teer in class.”

According to Kahlenberg, the third factor is thequality of educators who are drawn to lower poverty

PHOTOS: CHARLES VOTAW SUMMER 2013 neatoday 45

schools. Educators are as interested in working con-ditions as in salary, Kahlenberg says. “They wantconditions where they can focus on teaching and notdiscipline, where parents are involved in their chil-dren’s academic success, and where students strivefor excellence.”

He is quick to add that low-income parents areequally concerned about their children’s education,but frequently less able to participate as fully as theywould like. Impediments include having more thanone job, little flexibility at work, and needing to take

public transportation to school meetings and events,sometimes with small children in tow, because childcare is unavailable or unaffordable.

“At mixed-income schools, there’s a betterchance of having a core of actively engaged parents,and those mixed-income schools just work better,”Kahlenberg says.

The most visible core of engaged parents at B-CCis the Bethesda-Chevy Chase Educational Foundation(BCCEF), made up of parents, alumni, and communitymembers. BCCEF’s mission is to identify needs at theschool and raise the funds from current and former B-CC families, alumni, friends, towns, and local busi-nesses to meet those needs.

“We don’t have enough lower-income studentsto qualify for much federal support, but we stillhave needs,” says BCCEF President Matthew Gan-dal, a B-CC parent.

The foundation funds a Summer Academy for at-risk eighth graders before they enter high school to

fully prepare them for the rigors of B-CC. It also fundsTime for Academic Progress, or “TAP,” an after-schooltutoring program for English, math, and science. Thisway, extra support isn’t the sole province of wealthykids whose parents can pay for private tutors.

Founded by three B-CC parents, the Foundation’snewest program, College Tracks, works with low- andmoderate-income students who can succeed in col-lege, but might not get there because they’re unfamil-iar with the application process and with findingfinancial aid and scholarships.

“The goal of the staff and volunteers is to get stu-dents to the finish line,” says Gandal. “And it’s payingoff. Hundreds of students go through the program andwe’ve had a 99 percent success rate.”

Programs like this help alleviate some of the dis-comfort less affluent parents feel when their childrenfirst enter B-CC.

B-CC Principal Karen Lockard recalls a motherwhose gifted son had just come from a lower-incomeschool in a poor neighborhood. She wanted to be surehe didn’t get lost.

AT A GLANCE

Montgomery County SchoolsSpending per pupil: $15,421Graduation rate: 90% Enrollment: 148,779

Bethesda-Chevy Chase HighSchool has all the state-of-the-artadvantages of an affluent neighborhoodschool, which helps students of allincome levels succeed.


“We expect everyone todo well here.”

—COLLEEN DESMOND,BETHESDA-CHEVY CHASE

HIGH SCHOOL

PHOTOS: ANITA MERINA/NEA (TOP), BRAD PERKS SUMMER 2013 neatoday 47

‘I Can’t Abandon Them’“These are children who have people who walk out

of their lives all of the time, and here you are, givingthem substitute teachers who can’t stay and askingthem to open up and trust them,” says Clegg. “Stu-dents have looked at me as if to say, ‘OK, when are yougoing to leave?’ It’s simply not fair to them and I’m notsurprised when they don’t engage. It makes my workharder but I have to hang in there.”

Clegg is now settled into her job and is cautiouslyhopeful about her prospects.

“I can’t abandon them, with society telling thesekids they can’t succeed.”

Ed Auerbach a government and finance teacher atThomas Edison High School in Stockton, agrees. After13 years in the classroom, he is frustrated about the

uphill battle he and his colleaguesoften face in the classroom—andin the public eye—but he doesn’twant to be anywhere else.

“We teach in spite of parentstelling their children they need toleave school to work because theyhave to provide for their family,”says Auerbach. “We teach in spiteof peers pressuring students not to

engage in their studies.”“I teach for students like

Irene Hernandez-Martinez,Catheryn Zinski, and MollyVang, students who keepworking hard on theirschool work,” adds Auer-bach. “And for a formerstudent who wasn’t a goodstudent at all until his senioryear when a lesson on thestock market turned him on

to learning. Today, he’s in community college.”And then there’s Elia Nuñez, one of nine children

and the first in her family to go to college. Abandonedby her biological parents when she was two years old,Nuñez finished at the top of her class despite working30 hours a week to help pay the rent and food for hersister and her aunt, who both have families.

Nuñez received a full scholarship to attend theUniversity of Santa Clara this fall. “I’m going to studyfor a degree in public policy, so I can help a city startover,” says Nuñez.

Recession-weary leaders like Olds, point to mem-bers like Auerbach and Clegg plus a new generation ofteachers and leaders. “I’ve had two Hmong formerstudents and another Laotian student decide teachingwas their way of helping their own community and itsstudents,” says Olds. “Even my own children decidedto become teachers though they know it’s not an easyjob. I told them that it’s a tough life. They didn’t evenhesitate. Today, they’re wonderful in the classroom. “

Olds says the public needs to look at what’s hap-pening in cities like Stockton.

“I see Stockton as the epicenter of public educa-tion’s financial crisis and challenge,” says Olds. “If wedon’t wake up as a country and see what needs to bedone to help these educators do their jobs and givestudents their chance to succeed in a city like Stock-ton, then the rest of the nation should worry.”

—ANITA MERINA


“Don’t assume that just because my kid is blackthat he’s a thug,” the mother warned. “I want him incalculus, where he belongs.”

The educators at B-CC agreed. Their philosophy isthat everyone should be in AP and honors classes bythe time they’re juniors.

“It’s no longer just white, rich kids,” says Lockard.Just as all-black and all-white schools were sepa-

rate and unequal, “separate schools for rich and poorare never going to be equal,” says Kahlenberg. “Hous-ing policies need to be changed to allow for moreeconomic integration.”

The nation’s neighborhoods are becoming increas-ingly segregated by economic status. When a neigh-borhood determines the school, it can undercut thedemocratic promise. Kahlenberg says, “Any student,no matter what her parents’ income, should haveequal access to a high-quality public education.”

—CINDY LONG

Learn how some districts are finding ways to createeconomic integration at nea.org/zipcodes.

PAIN ANDPROMISESTOCKTON, CALIF.

The sign announcingthe city’s population,above a tall bank of

high grass along the road to the Stockton Airport, isbattered and weather-beaten. In many ways, the con-dition of the sign reflects the condition of the south-ern part of the city, ZIP code 95206, a designation thatmarks one of the poorest neighborhoods in this city ofnearly 300,000.

The sign also symbolizes the educators of thisarea of Stockton, beaten up by their conditions butstill standing.

During the nation’s economic crisis, Stocktonhomeowners lost their properties in record numbers.Last year, the city made headlines by becoming thelargest in the nation to declare bankruptcy.

Stockton Classroom Teachers Association presi-dent Ellen Olds remembers when the news hit. “I hadcalls from media in Japan and even Brazil,” she says.“But I made a point to tell reporters that for our mem-bers, there was much more.

“In addition to the city bankruptcy and foreclosurecrisis affecting the community and our parents,”explains Olds, “our members had to cope with theroller coaster nature of staffing our schools due tolayoffs around the state, and the lack of resources forour classrooms.”

The city benefitted from federal School Improve-ment Grants to shore up parent resources and com-munity support. But the district has continued tostruggle with fully staffing its schools and serving theneeds of a struggling population.

What is it like to teach in Stockton? “Exhausting,”says Olds. “What our members have to endure is sotough and they’re tired.”

‘Difficult and Unsettling’Brianna Clegg is a classic example of the shifting

sands of job security in her district. Now in her sixth year of teaching, she has been at

three different schools, three different years. She hastaught middle school, older elementary, and earlygrades. “I’ve been laid off, had the layoff rescinded, laidoff again, hired, and let go, all in my first few years ofteaching,”

In one instance, after being honored as an out-standing employee at the school awards dinner, Cleggreturned home to find a layoff notice waiting for her.Today, she teaches kindergarten students at TaylorLeadership Academy—a position she loves. Herbrightly colored classroom shows it, and it’s where shewants to stay.

“It’s so difficult and unsettling,” says Clegg, whogrew up attending Stockton schools. “Once I wasasked to step in after Halloween for a sixth-gradeclass. You can imagine how tough itwould be to set up the class,lessons, and classroomstructure and try to dothis immediately. Icouldn’t take that one.”

As if that weren’tenough, says Olds, theSCTA president, thelack of funding forstaffing has prevented thedistrict from using long-term substitutes for more than20 days, because doing so would mean the districtwould have to cover benefits and more.

Students in this predominantly low-income areaare deeply affected.

AT A GLANCE

Stockton, CaliforniaSpening Per Pupil: $9,421Graduation Rate: 66%Enrollment: 38,141


“I’ve been laidoff, had the layoff

rescinded, laid off again,hired, and let go, all

in my first few years ofteaching.”

—BRIANNA CLEGG,TAYLOR ELEMENTARY

SCHOOL

Stockton Classroom TeachersAssociation President Ellen Olds(top) believes her city's futuredepends on keeping memberslike kindergarten teacherBrianna Clegg (right) andhigh school teacher EdAuerbach (below).

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