School's
golden rule: Keep those scores up
Eighteenth Avenue avoids restructuring due to
error by state
Wednesday, October 27, 2004 BY JOHN MOONEY
Star-Ledger Staff
The news came with little fanfare: Due to a math error
made by the state, Eighteenth Avenue School wasn't in quite
so desperate straits after all.
Under the federal No Child Left Behind Act, the Newark
school had faced reorganization -- including possibly having
its principal removed -- if test scores didn't improve this
year.
Then the school was told it would get more time, and the
principal gave a slight pump of her fist. But on this very
average school day in Newark's Central Ward, the move from
the most severe watch list of the federal law to a slightly
less serious one didn't seem to change much.
"It's not like we'd relax," said Principal Barbara
Ervin, in her third year at the school. "Even if we met all
(requirements), we still have to make it next year and the
next and the next after that."
Like many under-performing schools here and around the
nation, Eighteenth Avenue School has been swept up in the
mandates of No Child Left Behind, its fate hinging on the
law. But among the first lessons are the law's numbing
complexity and the weary resignation it brings to a school
already under fierce pressure.
At this school in one of the poorest neighborhoods of
Newark, teachers and administrators already pore over test
data. A new reading program was launched this year, and the
school has regular visits from math and literacy
specialists.
And the federal government is not alone in bearing down
on the school. Eighteenth Avenue will still get a tough
review of its progress later this fall, when a team of 10
officials and experts overseen by the state evaluate each
classroom.
The law clearly lends urgency to those efforts, yet to
teachers and administrators it also appeared more a source
of frustration than encouragement.
"When somebody is just looking at (test score) figures
and hasn't been in here and see what we do and the time we
put in, the labels can be disheartening," said Dorothy
Zignauskas, a special education teacher of three decades and
head of Eighteenth Avenue's school leadership council.
"But you dust yourself off and get back to it," she
said.
The correction to Eighteenth Avenue's federal status
serves as an example of the intricacy of the process. The
school had previously been told it was among 118 schools
failing to meet the law's student performance requirements
-- known as "adequate yearly progress" -- for four years. It
had to take "corrective action," the deepest trouble a
school had faced in New Jersey.
Facing 40 categories that break down students'
performance by race, income and other factors, Eighteenth
Avenue last year fell short in the only ones it qualified
for, those covering black students and low-income students.
More than 90 percent of the school's 307 children are black.
Ninety-plus percent are also poor.
Overall, about 53 percent of its fourth-graders taking
the tests passed the language arts, and 34 percent passed
math, both well below the requirements of 68 and 53 percent,
respectively.
But earlier this month, the state disclosed an error of
its own. As part of a wider review of all its schools'
standing, the state said Eighteenth Avenue had fallen short
of the required levels for three years, not four. More than
150 schools in all saw their status change that day, for
good or bad.
The distinction is significant, as the only consequence
for a school missing for a third year is to continue with
the same sanctions in place. In this case, it's the
little-used offer to families to transfer elsewhere or to
get free after-school tutoring.
What led to the mistake, though, is telling.
In 2002-03, the one year that Eighteenth Avenue was
found to have met the standards, the break came from not how
well the fourth-graders did, but the fact there were just 19
of them counted in the state's tests. That was below the
state's requirement that at least 20 students take the test
for their school to be judged against the law's
requirements.
The minimum is just one of many quirky facets to the law
that differ by state and can have a huge impact. In Texas,
the minimum is as high as 50 students. In New Jersey, it
changes with the category of students.
And even if Eighteenth Avenue remained with the more
severe sanctions, the law isn't clear on how a school would
be "restructured" anyway, a prospect still faced by more
than 100 others.
So the same day the state was making its changes, Newark
officials still were scrambling to figure out where exactly
the school stood. "Please remember (the law) is new, and we
are all working out the process as we live it," said Gayle
Griffin, Newark's assistant superintendent for teaching and
learning.
Meanwhile, classes and programs throughout the
four-story school were not much fazed by it all. Many who
work there agree the school is making slow but steady gains,
some measured in test scores, others not.
In a first-floor parent resource room last week, a
workshop on how to meet with teachers drew only about a
dozen parents and grandparents, but the few new faces was
heartening.
Upstairs, teacher Joyce Miller-Johnson's fourth-grade
math students -- most of who will take the state's pivotal
tests this spring -- broke down four-digit numbers into
various formulas.
And around the corner, a handful of last year's
fourth-graders were among the school's honor roll who were
feted to an ice-cream sundae and cookies. A group of the
10-year-olds knew the state exams by each alphabet-soup
name, and some said they can be a chore. But they also
conceded some merit in all the testing.
Naquan and Raquan Johnson are twins, and the latter said
the math was a little tougher in the "NJASK" (New Jersey
Assessment of Skills and Knowledge) last year. His brother
said the reading was harder. But both liked the writing, and
one remembered how his teacher focused on the pieces of a
story he'd need to remember.
"Character, setting, problem and solution," Raquan said.
"'It made me a better writer."
John Mooney covers education. He can be reached at
jmooney@starledger.com, or (973) 392-1548.
© 2004 The Star-Ledger. Used by NJ.com with
permission.
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