Helping academy students learn

Jerry Large
Helping academy students learn

There is a ruckus in the hallway before the first bell; a tiny little girl is wailing. Her brother, barely a foot taller, is trying to tow her along, but she anchors herself to the floor. Rickie Malone, the school's principal, puts an arm on the girl's shoulder and quiets her, looking more like a mom than an administrator.

Sometimes the two roles are similar. Malone was brought out of retirement last school year to run the African American Academy, to see if maybe she could soothe what ails it and get the school moving forward, the way she did with that one child.

The academy was founded in 1991 as a way to bridge the academic gap that has many African-American students trailing their peers in school. If schools for girls can boost their performance, maybe a school for black students could do the same for them.

It hasn't lived up to its promise, though scores have risen in the past few years and fourth-graders made significant leaps forward on last year's WASL.

"Any child can learn if they are in an environment where the adults love and care for them," Malone says.

The environment at the school was an issue for enough parents to cause a leadership shake-up in 2004.

The Seattle school district paid Medgar Wells to resign as principal, then brought Malone out of retirement to lead the school in fall 2004.

She had been principal of Madrona K-8 before retiring, and her last act there was memorable. Malone took up a staffer's suggestion that she motivate students to read by offering them a contract: She told students that any of them who met her reading requirements over a four-month period would be invited to her wedding that spring. The number of students who read every night went from 80 to 360.

This job may be a little tougher.

Almost all of the academy's students are black and almost all of them are poor. Schools haven't done well by either demographic. Malone thinks this experiment can be made to work, but she worried when the district started talking about closing schools. She wants to get the word out that she and her staff are not satisfied, and that they are working on solutions with partners from the community.

I met with staffers and two members of the Greater Seattle Chapter of Links Inc., a service organization whose members are predominantly African-American women, and accomplished ones at that.

Gayle Johnson and Liz Thomas said the Links adopted the academy about five years ago after another round of low test scores came out. The Links lead a group of organizations called Friends of the African American Academy. They represent a commitment on the part of middle-class black folks to help poor children improve their lot. They're trying to fill the role that well-heeled and well-educated Parent Teacher Student Associations play at some other Seattle schools.

Malone said her family was like those who come to the academy, so she feels a kinship to them. She thinks that connection is important.

We haven't trained our educators to really understand that all children can learn, she told me. Too often the mix of poor black children and middle-class teachers doesn't work well.

But she said, "When anyone comes into this building, they know who they are going to teach."

The students she gets often come because they have had academic or behavioral problems at other schools. She doesn't start with the demographic advantages that make some school staffs look good.

Math coach Lynn Ludwig, who is white, is new to the school. She's one of those teachers Malone was talking about who are there because they want to work with these kids.

"I've been watching the academy for years," Ludwig said. "I noticed an opening and put in an application." She said she's been impressed with the staff. "I've worked in lots of other buildings ... these people come in early and work late."

My wife and I help our son with his homework and when we can't handle something, we hire a tutor. At the academy, teachers and members of Friends of the African American Academy work with the kids after school.

Sandy Gady works for the Puget Sound Educational Service District. She was assigned to help at the academy with math instruction temporarily, but got stuck on the place.

Gady, who also is white, said, "I was scared to come here at first. I'm from Spokane."

She kept coming back after her assignment ended. She told me she was walking down the hall with a girl who asked her, "Why do you keep coming here? Is it your job?"

"No, the job ended."

"Then why?"

"I like you."

"But you're white."

That little girl's perspective says a lot about where we stand as a community and as a nation. It doesn't have to continue that way.

Gady opened to the kids and they responded. She's so confident in the progress students have made that she says she can't wait for the WASL. And in the process of doing her job, she got a new family. That's what it's all about.