Old Grades, New Parades

One benefit of having winter break in the middle of the school year is that it provides an opportunity for fresh starts.   And those of us who work at Hoover High School sure could use a cleansing of last semester’s turmoil that slammed our campus like a tornado:  the student brawl, the walkout, the negative press.  A feeling of unfinished business hung over us like a fog for a good part of the fall.

With this in mind, I began the first day back by passing out neon red squares of paper to my students and having them write last semester’s grades along with a short reflection.  I told them this would not be shared with anyone including me.

Once students finished, I had them fold the paper in half twice into tiny squares.

“We are locking away the past forever and . . .” I said, as trash cans were distributed down each row, “. . . throwing the grades and any negative feelings out.  Not the lessons learned just the grade itself.  It’s a new year and a new semester, time for a new beginning.”

I dimmed the lights.

“First, let’s get reacquainted with Room 11202.  Did you miss this room during the break?  It’s been a while, so in your new seat, place your hands in front of you on the table to have a physical connection to the environment, close your eyes, and think positive thoughts.  In order to give you ideas on what to think about, I will share mine.”

“Dear Room 11202.  Thank you for being here for my students and I.  For being a sanctuary of learning.  We look forward to wonderful memories the rest of the way.”

“Now I’m going to ask you to close your eyes for at least one minute.  You may begin.”

I played meditative music at low volume.

Once most students’ eyes had opened, I passed out pastel blue squares of paper.

“Write down a favorite memory you have from winter break that brought you joy.  It could be a gift, a song, a text, a sunset.  Write down what the memory is and why it brought joy to you.”

“Fold it once and put it inside a safe place in your binder.  Now you have something that makes you feel good each and every day.  Some of the approaching days will be pleasant ones, but some will not.  For that darkest day that may surface, when it seems everything has gone wrong, open up your binder and look at this piece of paper and be reminded of what gives you joy.”

By happenstance, principal Jennifer Earl walked into my classroom right at the time I was beginning this lesson.  Usually she stays for a few minutes then continues on to other rooms in making her rounds.

This time I asked her to stay for the entire lesson because I wanted her to experience this for herself.  She even threw away her own red piece of paper with great enthusiasm.

Well, she was so inspired by what she saw, she asked me to do the lesson with the entire staff at that afternoon’s faculty meeting.

When I demonstrated the activity with my peers, I sensed a calmness in the room.  Reconnecting with our workplace felt like the right thing to do coming back after the break.  We all needed closure. How serendipitous that Dr. Earl walked into my room when she did as if it was meant to be.

And all of this happened in just the first day.  I can’t wait to see what will unfold the rest of the year.

 

 

Power of the Students

Through the Great Depression, World War Two, Korean and Vietnam wars, and 9/11, one thing was for certain:  that in the fall each year Glendale and Hoover High Schools would meet for the final football game of the season.

That tradition ended last week.

Hours before game time, “out of an abundance of caution” Glendale Unified School District cancelled it “due to increased rumors of possible disruptions . . . that put student, employee, and spectator safety at risk” as stated in a prepared statement.

Fallout from the Oct. 3 fight at Hoover ultimately led to GUSD’s decision.

The 88-straight game streak was broken as were the hearts of students and alumni and anyone else who has a link to the city’s storied history.  Even the homecoming dances were postponed.

It wasn’t just a football game that never happened.  For the Hoover senior football players, it meant a chance at history by beating Glendale all four years of their high school career, a feat never before accomplished.

Much preparation goes into this one event each year whose purpose is to instill school spirit, the major sporting event no matter the football team’s season record, with an early morning ceremonial poster drop from three floors up and a school-wide assembly of skits performed by each grade level.  All of this work done by a small group of dedicated students, all leading up to the game, the game that was not to be.

If there was a serious threat of violence, then cancelling the game was the right move.  However, if the cancellation was based on rumors, something the district admonished everyone after the fight at Hoover not to fall prey to, then questions should be asked.

After all, when a rumor on social media spread following the fight caused a huge amount of absences, school was not cancelled “out of an abundance of caution” so why would the game not happen?

If you are trying to make things go back to normal, the last thing you want to do is to end a positive, long-standing tradition between the two oldest high schools in the city.   Not having the football game is abnormal.

Then, guess what happened?   Just when the TV news minivans stopped parking in front of Hoover, they returned on Monday.

Students organized a walkout to protest the district’s cancellation.  Well over 100 students walked two miles to district headquarters wanting their voices to be heard.

“What really happened on Oct. 3?  Why was the game cancelled?” were questions never fully addressed.

Three days later, GUSD attempted to answer these questions in their first press conference on the matter four weeks after the initial incident.

The district is moving forward to facilitate communication with all members of the school community.  Let’s hope such efforts succeed.

Give credit to the district for doing this.  However, even more credit goes to the persistence of students who felt that questions remained unanswered and issues unresolved.

Would there have been a press conference if there was no walkout?

The motto at Hoover is “be responsible, respectful, and engaged.”  The students who organized the peaceful demonstration embodied that standard, and adults should embrace these young people for speaking their mind and reminding all that this is their school.

 

 

Honoring the Legacy of Long-time School Employees

When I first started working at Hoover High School in September of 1989, the school was so overcrowded that there wasn’t a classroom available for me so I became a traveling teacher:  four rooms in five periods.   That meant I had to carry chalk, erasers, paper, pens, staplers, paper clips, and more in my bulging briefcase.

It wasn’t until my second year that I had my own room, but there was a catch.   It was a temporary room, a portable bungalow out near the softball field.  While it was isolated next to three other portables, it had its own air conditioning unit that I controlled, unlike the permanent buildings where the thermostat was managed by the district office.

A couple of years later when high schools converted to four-year institutions, a new building was erected to accommodate the additional ninth graders.  Then principal Don Duncan invited teachers to choose their own classrooms while construction was underway.

I selected a room away from a stairwell to minimize outside noise.  I also wanted my windows to have a view so I chose one that faced south overlooking Glendale’s burgeoning skyline to my left and the Hollywood Hills to my right.

And I have remained there ever since.

This school year marks my 30th as a teacher.  It also happens to be the 90th year that Hoover has been around.  That means that I have taught at Hoover for one-third of its entire existence.   During my tenure, I have worked for six principals and five superintendents.

Reaching such a milestone has made me reflect on many of my former co-workers who are no longer at Hoover.

Too often these people just disappear whether through retirement or moving on without announcement or acknowledgment of their service to the school.  There is no mechanism in place for their legacies to be memorialized.

Past superintendents in Glendale have their photos mounted at the district headquarters.  No matter that the average tenure has been eight years, with one serving only a year, these men remain the face of the district despite working at other districts for the majority of their careers.

However, for those teachers, secretaries, custodians, and cafeteria workers who have devoted their lifetime to GUSD—20, 30, 40 years’ worth—their work is not preserved.  Nowhere are their photos or names displayed.   That is like having a memorial dedicated to the armed services with only the names of the generals on it.

These people have more of a connection to students than do superintendents.    Preparing food, cleaning campuses, greeting visitors, and teaching students—these are the most meaningful jobs at a school.   If it weren’t for these people, there wouldn’t be a place of learning.

Just last month a custodian who worked 39 years, Glen Esquivel, retired. Where is his photo?  His name?

As soon as he left, the history of his stint in GUSD disappeared. It’s as if he never worked in Glendale schools.

Thirty-nine years.  Vanished.

Devote your entire working life to a company and never be remembered.  That’s a terrible lesson to teach young people.

Never mind the clichéd certificate of recognition at a school board meeting.  As the district prepares to move to a new administration building, serious consideration should be given to erect a Hall of Fame with the photos, names and years of service of all employees who have worked for GUSD at least 25 years.

It’s the right thing to do.