News Articles, 1995-1997
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The Damage That Can't Be Repaired

When My D.C. School Was Closed, Windows of Opportunity Shut, Too

If confronting adversity builds character, then thousands of students in the District of Columbia have been involuntarily enrolled in intensive character development programs over the past two months. Students at Bell Multicultural High School, where I work, emerged from the temporary closing of our school with a newfound sense of involvement and determination. But the educational damage they have suffered in the so-called "interest of their safety" is enormous.

Last week's negotiated settlement between Parents United and the school system, ending the lawsuit over the conditions at D.C. schools, was welcome and long overdue. But the failure of leadership in this city that was revealed by this inexcusable debacle needs to be confronted, or else it could happen again.

Why was it that drops of water were considered more of a threat to students than being denied classrooms, books, technology and a place to concentrate? Why did the definition of "safety" exclude all consideration of the students' emotional and educational well-being?

All adults in the city need to answer these questions to regain the confidence of the parents and students whose educational well-being was abused. And all governmental entities responsible for the District's schools need to listen.

My impression is that the sincere desire of Parents United and Superior Court Judge Kaye K. Christian to repair crumbling school buildings did not reflect firsthand understanding of the complexities of day-to-day operations in a school. Parents United never consulted with Bell parents about the closing. We invited leaders of the group to attend an emergency press conference but none showed up. They and other civic leaders have to educate themselves about the effects of the school closings.

The court closed Bell because a building inspector found water damage from a leaking roof in the wood shop. For this, the entire school was closed. Our two days of relocation turned into a 12-day nightmare. In all, we had to relocate to five different sites. And we were not alone. Approximately 3,500 other students and at least 400 professional educators experienced this same nightmare. The effects will be felt for years to come and they will be concrete and quantifiable -- reflected in the costs of more dropouts, fewer college acceptances, fewer dollars in scholarships and test scores even lower than the ones just released.

The students most at risk of dropping out were affected the most. At Bell, student leader Daniel Tyson said, "The frustration was immense when we were told that our school, the only safe haven for some, was being shut down." Bell's daily attendance rate, which normally averages 92 percent, dropped to 70 percent during the relocation. (It has since returned to 90-plus percent.) Because day-to-day survival and operation was an all-consuming task for staff members, we were not able to provide the personalized attention that some students need. There were at least 10 who did not come back to school after the relocation; two weeks later, we have only reestablished contact with four of them. There were 15 teenage mothers who missed all 12 days of school since they did not have access to Bell's day-care center. It should go without saying that this city can ill afford to marginalize and alienate more of its youth, while denying them the skills they will need to get decent and productive jobs.

Seniors also paid a high price. Most of them had left their college applications, which they had already started working on, in their lockers or the counselor's office, along with scholarship applications. They couldn't retrieve them because of the fire marshal's standing threat to slap a $1,000 fine on anyone who entered the building. Our requests to get inside to pick up books, materials and student property were denied. Some scholarship deadlines passed while we were out of our building. College recruiters who were scheduled to come to our school were unable to contact us to reschedule. The counselors had no phones, computers or other means of communication to request new applications. Even if they had had access to communication, there would have been no time, for virtually all staff members had to assist with monitoring and guiding students in an unfamiliar environment, trying to move classes from rooms that were too crowded, consoling students, or running out to find a place to make copies.

Consider the case of senior Ilcia Moran, a senior honor-roll student. In addition to taking Advanced Placement classes at Bell, Ilcia takes two classes at Trinity College. She will be the first in her family to attend college, and she plans to apply to George Washington University, Howard University and Trinity.

"I will need to finance all of my college education through scholarships and financial aid, because my parents don't have the money for it," she told me. "I missed a lot of scholarship deadlines when we were out of our building. A lot of students throughout the nation got to apply for these, and I didn't, because of decisions that were made about our school. I'd like to know if the District is going to create a scholarship fund for all of us who missed out on these opportunities."

Underclassmen also felt the closing's effects. The Preliminary Scholastic Aptitude Test (PSAT), which was supposed to be given to all juniors on Tuesday, Oct. 14, had to be postponed to the following Saturday. Only two-thirds of the students showed up, since many have to work on Saturday. Opportunities to prepare students for the test were minimal, since they had no access to the graphing calculators and SAT preparation software in our building.

There were plenty of people who appreciated the ordeal we were going through. Our 30 corporate sponsors provided material and moral support. AT&T loaned us cell phones. Popeye's donated chicken. Citibank arranged to get us a pro bono lawyer.

Our teachers struggled valiantly to keep instruction on track, without the most basic supplies and materials. Even the one-room schoolhouses of the 19th century had blackboards; several of the alternative sites we were in did not. It was heartbreaking to see students huddled over in rickety chairs, with no surface to write on, insufficient light, and few books. There was certainly no opportunity to conduct meaningful classes that require equipment, such as science.

"I tried to put a positive spin on the whole experience," said Ray Devenney, an English teacher at Bell. "But as the days passed, the closing produced anger, frustration and an almost tangible sense of despair among the students. Kids were giving up, talking about dropping out, and losing interest with everything associated with school."

"The two-and-a-half weeks we were out of our building were a disaster," said student leader Tyson. "Seven hundred and forty kids have been deprived of their right to an education, and yet they live in the capital city of the United States, in which so much is expected. And this is tolerated?"

It was. It is too late to undo the damage, but not too late to listen to the students and make sure it never happens again.

Maria Tukeva is the principal of Bell Multicultural School in Columbia Heights.

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