Evolving Success Story at Chicago’s Spencer Elementary
He’s angry, disappointed, but he calms down before speaking.
The ladies agree. Right.
One group of boys shoots video. Two of them shuffle their feet and wiggle their middles for the third one to record. Girls take photos of windows, hands, desks.
McWade is notoriously strict, expecting the students to call adults “ma’am” or “sir.” But he also gets his kids up and moving with lessons that speak to them. The photos he has pulled to talk about verbs involve Olympic champion Usain Bolt. Teachers here are trusted and expected to teach what they believe works, so he’s demonstrating probability using a game of foam dice that has the class squealing.
lunch.Alexis Williams belonged in this class, but instead she’s in the
hallway with her grandmother, Bernice Howard, who’s arranging her transfer toanother school.
Jackson recognizes the family, and hollers out, “Do I get to keep her? C’mon, c’mon, she don’t want to go to Hay [Elementary], she want to
go to Spencer.”
Howard moved last spring to an apartment too far for her to walk the 10-year-old to school anymore. The neighborhood’s too dodgy to put the little girl on the CTA by herself, so Howard rides the bus with her on days
when her arthritis behaves. No school bus exists, except for certain
special-education students.
Transportation is the problem, the grandmother explains to Jackson. “But I want her to stay here,” she says.
“And she grew up!” Jackson speaks first to the woman and then to
the child. “You knew you was a fool in second grade?”
“She grew up!” Howard agrees.
Alexis got in trouble when she started at Spencer in second grade. She couldn’t sit still. But the teachers demanded good things from her, and she settled in and settled down. She counted the days of summer until it was time to go back to Spencer. She loves school now.
“Please can I stay?” the child pipes in at every opening, “Can I stay, please?”
The principal won’t give up: There must be something we can do. You know we start at 8:45? We’re a straight shot down Laramie. The other school doesn’t have the computers we have. This is my girl.
The grandmother laments the truth: I really want her to stay. But it’s too much to bring her on the bus every day.
So Jackson will call ahead to the other school to introduce the
family.
“Between the two, you’re in a good place,” he concludes, “but I
hate to lose your baby. She’s grown so much. We want her, but I’m not about to drive you crazy.”
Alexis has disappeared to change her plain white top into Spencer’s royal blue golf shirt.
“Now you looking right!” Jackson tells her.
“Oh, Mama don’t want you to leave,” Williams says to the
granddaughter she has raised from a baby.
“She’s an A student now,” she continues, “so I definitely don’t want her to go.”
“So Mama,” Alexis pleads, still, “can I stay?”
The week before school started, CPS Chief Executive Officer Jean-Claude Brizard popped in to see Spencer’s computer labs. He taught a lesson at Spencer last year about the solar system, using some of the iPads the school bought through a Chicago Public Schools technology grant.
“You shouldn’t let people win,” the 13-year-old said. “You have to earn it.”
Article also appeared in The Black Truth News Volume 4 Issue 1 Jan. 2013