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Newark Public Schools

The U.S. Department of Education

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Full coverage of Education Insights

September 5, 2001

Editor's note: Julie taught a summer school class of third graders in Newark, New Jersey--a city that continuously does poorly on statewide and national standardized tests.

Week Two - Learning the truth

I walked onto the parking lot playground this morning, and Natalie, the head teaching assistant, came over with her finger pointed straight at me. "You're doing aftercare today," she said. That meant I had to stay after school and watch some of the students until their parents left work. Right then, I knew it was going to be a long day.

Jack taught a science lesson after lunch, on recycling and pollution. It made me more frustrated. There were no visuals, the kids were bored; Jack essentially lectured to them. And, as he lectured, I kept thinking of ways that he could have incorporated some interactivity into the lesson.

He should have brought in some garbage, drawn the reduce, re-use, recycle symbol on the board, made a list with the kids of ways that they could incorporate recycling, reducing, and re-using into their own lives as 8 and 9 year olds. They could have written letters to some corporation or some environmental organization.

Teaching good behavior

Mrs. Robeson, who is the teacher in charge of Aftercare, is a great woman. She's large and loud, very assertive, witty, and the kids listen to her.

Grade by grade, kids filtered into the aftercare room, (which is also my classroom), and soon there were kids from age five to over five feet tall sitting in the chairs, rolling on the floors, and blowing straws across desks. It was a zoo. It was also over 90 degrees today, so by some stroke of luck, we were allowed to take all the kids into the air conditioned art room and watch a movie.

First of all, we must have been in violation of some fire code. There were at least 50 kids in this room, with three teachers, including Rachel and me.

Second of all, while air conditioning appealed to those of us over the age of 18, a good percentage of the kids were upset that we were not going outside. When I heard complaining in the line for the bathroom, my tired, snappy and unthinking self whipped around and asked, "Do you want to fry like an egg outside?"

That was bad, I know. I really need to develop more patience and endurance for these types of days.

As we were sitting in the art room, out from the masses marched a kindergarten boy the size of my pinky.

He approached me, tugged on my dress, and said, "He punched me in the stomach."

"Who punched you in the stomach, sweetie?"

"Him," he said pointing into a mass of children sitting on the other side of the room, clustered in front of the television.

"Ok, hun, what's your name?"

"Keith."

"Keith, you tell that boy to come here, because I want to talk to him." And Keith disappeared into the masses again.

Some ten minutes later, a big 10 year old boy came up to me with a whiny look on his face. Keith reappeared, meandering through and over other children, like a little tiny ant, and looked at me, pointing at the boy.

So this was the one that punched Keith, who looks like Stuart Little, in the stomach. Each boy told me their own version of the story. Now, I discovered that Keith had taken this other boy's paper.

"Keith, did you take his paper?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

I turned to the other boy.

"Why did you punch him in the stomach?"

"Cause he took my paper, he was bothering me."

"Keith, did you take his paper?"

"No."

"Then, why did he punch you in the stomach? There must have been some reason."

There was a pause. Then, Keith spoke.

"He said I could have it."

"Have what?"

"The paper."

"Did you say he could have it?"

"No. He took it."

"Did you take it without asking?"

Pause. Then, Keith nodded his head. Amazing what you can get out children with some persistence: the truth.

I proceeded to try and resolve this fight. I spoke to Keith about taking people's things, and then I started with the other boy about setting an example for younger kids, and why taking a piece of paper warranted hitting a five-year-old boy in the stomach.

"How would you like it if I punched you in the stomach? Wouldn't be so nice, would it?"
He looked like he was trying to avoid getting into a trap. "No."

"So then, you need to think. You need to be careful and decide whether you would want something done to you, before you go and do that same something to someone else. Ok?"

His eyes are pained. "But…my momma told me that if anyone bothered me, I should hit 'em."

Home vs. school lessons

What could I say to that? How do you undermine what someone's parent has taught them is right? And, who am I to judge the smarts that a person needs in this neighborhood?

There's a culture of violence in Newark. I don't want to sound dismal, because it's true that if everyone wanted to change it, it could change. But it takes a village, and these kids are bred to be hardened. People don't reach out, they're defensive.

I got to see a lot of parents as I was on aftercare duty today. In aftercare, students stay after the school day ends until their parents pick them up after work. When I saw Keisha's father, I figured he couldn't be any more than two years older than I am. Plenty of mothers, some even carrying another baby, could not have been a day older than 20, either.

As much as I act like a mother sometimes, I am so far from giving birth to my own babies. How could I possibly manage having a child at this point in my life? I'm teaching the children of my peers.

Jack and I talked about this on the drive home. We want to know where these kids are going to be in five years. In 10 years. In a city like Newark, where the families are broken and the streets aren't safe, education really is the only way out.

This is their only hope; we are their only hope. And unless they grab onto the rope we're holding, and help us help them out…the cycle will continue.

Names have been changed to protect student and teacher privacy.