In 2004, Crossland High School, with its 2100 students, was
the worst of twenty-two high schools in Prince George’s County. The school was
dangerous. The quality of the educational program was poor. The morale of its
students, parents, and the surrounding community was poor as well. Hopeless was an accurate description of
the school and all of its stakeholders. More than 65% of the students qualified
for free and/or reduced meals, the government’s benchmark for poverty. In
2004, 15% of its students passed the State’s high school assessment for
Algebra, 22% passed in English.
Crossland received all of the accolades mentioned above because
we were able to change a culture of mediocrity, distrust, intimidation, and
fear into a culture of respect for the individual, service to the
community, and the pursuit of excellence. By 2013, test scores in Algebra had steadily increased to a passing
rate of 76%, and English scores had improved to 78%. Students taking Advanced
Placement classes had increased from 30 to more than 750. The school had been
approved as an International Baccalaureate school, and 90% of its Seniors had
applied to four-year colleges with at least a 70% acceptance rate for four
consecutive years.
During my first year as Principal at Crossland my fellow
Principals’ in the County teased me about having a pool to decide on when I
would be fired. I quickly developed a reputation for being a very strict
disciplinarian. We had many suspensions, so many in fact, that the other
Principals were sure that the parental complaints would eventually result in my
professional demise. Some of my students took to describing me as “Joe Clark”,
the notorious Principal depicted in the movie “Lean on Me”.
The suspensions were the result of four simple rules that
were put in place as soon as I arrived at the school. They were;
1.
No Profanity
2.
No Loitering
3.
No Class Disruptions
4.
No Fighting
All of the above violations resulted in suspensions.
Initially, no one believed that such rules were possible, not until violators
started going home. Eventually, the profanity that had been commonly used in
classrooms and hallways ended, and respectful conversations became the norm.
Eventually, the hallways became empty when classes were in session. Eventually,
class disruptions ended, and teachers were able to teach, and students were
able to learn. Eventually, the constant fighting ended, and students no longer
were afraid for their safety while in school.
The rules, and the consequences for breaking those rules, were
the only way that we could establish an environment that was conducive for
teaching and learning. Once that was established, everything else was possible.
However, this was not a ”Zero
Tolerance” environment. Our teachers, security, and administrators
exercised discretion on a daily basis. The only zero tolerance situations were
established by the Board of Education, and one of those was an automatic
request for expulsion for any student bringing a weapon to school.
The “Principal’s Leadership Team”, was a
special group of students at Crossland. They were my student advisory group,
composed of one member from every student organization in the school. The
members were personally selected by me at the beginning of each year. I met with
them monthly, and we would have lunch and discuss everything that was going on
in the school. We took field trips to Gettysburg, Pa., Monticello in Virginia,
Harpers Ferry in West Virginia, and yearly trips to either Montreal, Quebec
City, Niagara Falls, or Toronto in Canada. They were outstanding students,
outstanding people, they were my student leaders. Membership on the Principal’s Leadership Team was
something that was considered to be a tremendous honor. Our graduates wore a
special collar on graduation day to indicate their membership. Some of the
students that were selected as freshmen remained on the team for four years.
They were in effect, leaders of leaders.
At the conclusion of one of our meetings, one of my senior students,
a young lady that had been on the team for four years asked to speak to me in
my office. When our meeting was over she got up to leave and when she picked up
her purse a large knife fell on the floor. For several seconds neither one of
us said a word. She knew the rules. Everybody in the school knew that if you
were caught with ANY weapon it was an automatic expulsion. She was a senior.
She was an honor student. She was already accepted to college. Her financial
aid was already in place. I finally said, “sweetheart…what were you thinking???”
She started to cry as she told me how she had been threatened, and was carrying
the knife for protection. I picked up the knife and placed it in my desk
drawer. I knew what I was supposed to do. I did not know what I was going to
do. I told her I would talk to her the following morning, and sent her home.
I did not request the expulsion. I told no one what had
happened. The student graduated, went to college, and graduated. Today she is
married and a mother. I kept her knife in my desk drawer until I retired in
2013.
I’m glad I did not do, what I was supposed to do.
