High School Curriculum Change

A Recommendation for changing High School Education in California

My long experience teaching has convinced me that most of the youngsters in California secondary schools will profit very little from the last four or five years of their state mandated and financed education.

Most have little interest in traditional academic subjects and instinctively know that, for them, time spent in high school will be more like serving a prison sentence than in preparation for a brighter future. The great majority does not like, and in fact, actively despises school.

Instead of wasting years of time and millions of dollars in traditional high school education, youngsters could be separated at age fourteen, most to commence a short but intensive program of technical training which would prepare them for some work they could perform as juveniles and perhaps later as adults.

Only those students which show a definite aptitude and desire to study academic subjects should be tracked into small classes of hopefully enthusiastic, academically oriented scholars--instead of presenting more or less useless, watered-down "academic" subjects to overcrowded classrooms full of lethargic, unwilling teenagers

This will free good teachers of academic subjects to teach willing students rather than to oversee and discipline unruly masses and allow good teachers with technical skills to teach those who need them.

Secondary school education in its present form for most young men and women is not a golden gateway to opportunity but a portal to wasted time and frustration.

Tomasito, 2008

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ALBA High School

Mr. Samuel’s Monologue, 05/30/02

Mr. Samuel was a very big, very strong black man who was the director of ALBA HIGH when I taught there.

There had been a disruption in the school routine. Some student had stolen one of the teacher’s cameras and taken some porno shots with it so Mr. Samuel held a “lock down” for several hours in my classroom–which was the biggest classroom in the school and would comfortably hold all the students at one time.

He talked for a long time. First he told the story of one of his ex-students. Then he just talked using only key words and leaving out all the unnecessary verbiage.

His talk was sincere, terribly effective and like a poem to me.

Mr. Samuel:

“Chris was a good guy, a wrestler and football halfback.

He lost it. Started selling. Using.

Juvenile Hall–snapped!

(using policeman’s voice) “Looks like you killed your girlfriend and baby.”

Doing life, and the other young guy too.

Life?

Over.

Follow the rules–be respectful–play the game.

What counts most is how you act when Mom ain’t around–what counts is everyday behavior–we all make mistakes–what counts is bounce back–move forward.

I help you move forward–take pride in that–BIG TIME.

Staff–strengths and weaknesses–nobody perfect–try your hardest to do the right thing.

Every day. Every minute.

Cameras–watching everywhere. You’ll get caught. Everybody talks.

Choices. What you say and do–consequences!

Having fun–

Click! Click! Handcuffs!

Can happen to anybody anytime.

Your dad–your uncles: black, brown, white, Asian.

In the jail. No talking. Get in line. Get a ride to the hole.

Spray.

Sticks.

Boom!

Locked up.

Make bed. Tuck in sheets. Eat. Breakfast. Get in line.

Tuck your shirt in.

Get in Line. Go to work. Make your 25 cents an hour.

Lunch. Boom. Back to work. Phone call. “Hello, Mom. How you doing?”

10 o’clock. Lights out. Scared of your cellmate ‘cause they might jump on you.

Count time. Six times a day. Big–small–pretty–ugly.

If you can’t make it here at ALBA you’ll be in jail.

Treated like animals in prison.

Quiet, nice here. Do class work.

Whatever happens here gets around real fast.

Word’s out. Big time. Camera stolen. Photos of body parts.

Self control. Common sense says “NO”.

Juvenile Hall.

Jail.

ATTITUDE makes it ghetto!

You don’t have this–don’t have that–MAKE IT WORK!

Why is La Jolla different from ALBA?

Not because they full of white folks and money–because they have a better Attitude.

Monkey in a suit doing tricks still a monkey!

You affect somebody else every day.

(policeman’s voice) “Just a black girl! Just a Mexican! Told ya–that’s what they ALWAYS do!”

Best think you can do is the right thing.

Black skin. Brown skin, White skin.

Do the RIGHT thing!

Once you in Juvenile Hall, you’re an animal.

Sad.

Bottom line–you treated like an animal.

Last hug. You gotta go.

You can be here doing right or on your way!

Word gets out real fast about what’s happening–good and bad stuff included!

It gets out.

Hard core–used up on the streets.

Smells like yesterday and looks sad.

You’re valuable–if you weren’t you wouldn’t be here.

Some countries, you mess up, you’re out.

They beat you.

While you’re still free, be the best you can be!

Take the trash out!

Do the dishes without being told!”

Tomasito, 2008

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ALBA School

AT ALBA HIGH SCHOOL

For Your Information

This is not an official or authorized report about this unusual high school.

I was a substitute English teacher at ALBA High for several weeks in the spring of 2001. These are my observations.

ALBA HIGH SCHOOL in San Diego, California was an extraordinary high school for students accused of some fairly “minor” crime in the streets or convicted of such violations as “possession of weapons” in school, etc.

ALBA students came from all over the city. Some seemed to me to be “hardened criminals” others just “hard luck” kids.

Some had bad attitudes and could be disruptive but the school had a very low tolerance for bad behavior and the four or five teachers expected and usually got good cooperation from the students–or the students were removed. As a substitute teacher, I had certainly experienced far worse behavior from students in regular classes.

There were about fifty students enrolled at ALBA when I was there. The classes were small, usually from five to twenty students per teacher. The students moved from one class to another every period in small groups (for example from math to English), as they would have done at a regular school.

Only academic subjects were taught; there were no sports or other elective subjects. Students were not allowed to leave the unmarked storefront school building after they had checked in by 7:30 in the morning, nor were they allowed to carry the usual student’s backpack into the building. They could only bring: a pencil and a notebook, and these mandatory supplies were inspected at the door.

The windowless fluorescent-lit rooms of the converted commercial building produced a rather depressing environment, but this halfway school was not supposed to be an especially pleasant experience for the students: not exactly punishment but not pleasurable either.

The courts had directed these students to attend ALBA HIGH for a few weeks or a month or two instead of their regular schools while their legal future was being decided–so there was a constant coming and going of young people. Most of the students would return to their former schools. Some would be convicted of criminal behavior and go from ALBA to Juvenile Detention Hall (“Juvie”) or experience some other punishment.

All the students were black or brown–that is of African or Mexican racial extraction. At one time or another some white youth would be in attendance but these obvious misfits had no friends or status–and enjoyed only such respect as their criminal record would grant them as fighters and hoodlums.

There were girls and boys at ALBA, but I would say about five times the number of boys as girls.

For faculty there were three white women, a Mexican man and woman and the director, a very strong looking black man. A Native American from New Mexico cleaned the building before the school opened in the morning. I am white—also from New Mexico.

I mention these facts about race because race was important at ALBA

(Continued tomorrow)

Tomasito, 2008

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Room Six

ROOM SIX

Lee Elementary School San Diego, CA June/July: (Summer Session) 2002

Dedicated to: Jessica, Kendall, Raul, Martin and Manuel

The morning drive to work was not too hard, not too easy: just another fast puzzle through the San Diego streets and freeways for a transient substitute teacher like me. No way to live, but a living.

There are 12 kids in the classroom and three adult “aides”. I am the only “certified” teacher, but the three others know what to do. They tell me and I do it.

They have the kids pretty well trained because they have the same kids during the regular session. I will fit in as well as I can and do as they do. The full-time aides are Sylvia and Christina—Paul the Therapist stops in on Thursdays for a short time.

Both of the ladies are “take charge” ladies, so I hope my four weeks of paid work will be interesting.

The kids have been trained to be fairly well behaved. I think my job is to observe—help out a little and mainly stay out of the way. I can do it.

The kids are mentally handicapped. One is a wheel-chair case—she has a permanent aide, Virginia, assigned to take care of her.

The classroom is large with a sink and fridge and plenty of books and supplies.

I note they are trying to teach one of the kids I work with to write right-handed when she is a natural “lefty’. Well, no-one can do much in four weeks when the whole scene has been beaurocraticised and solidified. For me this will be more practice with patience, perseverance and good heart.

Here are the dramatis personae:

Joseph: four years old. Black. Noisy outbursts. Can’t control fingers. Sometimes his grandma comes to help out.

Ashley: three years old. Mexican. Mimics others but little fine coordination. Can’t or won’t talk.
Christian: two years old. (Youngest in class) Noisy. Class clown. Physically OK.

Jasmine: five years old. Black. Craves constant attention. Wants to be “teacher”. Follows suggestions. Often absent.

Martin: six years old. Mexican. Class leader. Smarter than the rest. Sees the “joke” of being in this tiny group of “special” students where he can get away with murder.

Raul: five years old. Mexican. A happy fatty. Babyish. Unhealthy.

Danielle: four years old. White with tan skin. Very handicapped. Big and strong and unwilling to cooperate with teachers or other children.

David: two years old. White. Noisy with sudden loud sounds. Round head. Sturdy build. Will obey others but not me.

Brittany: six years old. Very handicapped. In wheelchair with full-time aide. No talk- No movement.

Kendall: (No age given) Black. Glasses. Out of control. Shoves everybody. Laughs like a maniac.

Jessica: (no age given) Mexican. Very tall. Spaced out most of the time. Older than the rest. Very physically handicapped.

Everyone arrives late every morning. I am the only one on time so I open the classroom at 8:50 and wait. The less I do—the better it goes!

When Christian and Ashley arrive at about 9:15 and are fooling around, I ask them to “Stay off the couch, please.” Naturally they both jump onto the couch and start bouncing around. Human nature blooms so early!

Friday July 12, 2002: I am waiting in the classroom for the children and aides to arrive. Again I am in a job where I dread each day. Another LONG day of trying to keep kids occupied at tasks they for the most part hate with all their hearts—and so do I.

All of this Education”—designed to make these young people all alike—is not good for them or for me.

Here they come-- shuffling their feet.

. . .

Trying to teach these mentally handicapped children the usual scholastic rubbish is totally futile. They are mostly not prepared to read or write at any level. For these children, the alphabet, numbers, the days of the week and so forth, are meaningless concepts for them.

They should be allowed play in a rich environment with adults’ sensitive to their evolving comprehension—that encourages and motivates—not just controls them.

The only way a person learns self-control is through practice. If a child is constantly bossed and told what to do and when to do it, not only will he not learn self-control but he must either someday revolt or become a robot—and in this situation the robotization alternative is definitely the one preferred.

July 17, Wednesday: The two most haywire children—a brother and sister—start crying, hitting themselves on the head and generally being totally out of self-control making it impossible for any ”normal” classroom activities to continue for anyone.

I help by taking most of the children outside to play until the parents of the two can come take them home.

As an almost untrained outsider, there is a huge amount of information I don’t have, about what REALLY makes this classroom go and what is just bureaucratic foolishness (like trying to get the kids to write their own names) and how the other adults involved relate to the whole thing.

For example, the family with the above brother and sister are Filipinos. There are four children in the family. One, born in the Philippines, is normally bright—the three born in the USA are all mentally and physically handicapped to a greater or lesser degree—I really wonder why these adults continue to make babies.

Tomasito, 2008

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Barack Obama Wins

Barack Obama Wins!

Change is GOOD!



Tomasito, 2008

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Election Day

Election Day USA

Tomasito, 2008

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Jack London Grave

Jack London: in memorium

The Sailor on Horseback

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