Mary Lavalais knew something was wrong as soon as the girls stepped off the bus near the entrance to San Francisco Community School. The two, who were best friends, exchanged hostile, angry looks. Lavalais, the student advisor, took them aside and asked questions, listening carefully to the tearful replies.
She learned that one of the girls had said something to her friend. The other girl didn't hear exactly what her friend had said, but didn't like the way it sounded. A punch was thrown, and a mud ball was lobbed back in retaliation. Each was plotting further revenge.
San Francisco Community School Student Advisor Mary Lavalais mediates a squabble between best friends Denise Navarro and Nellie Baker.
To make it possible for the girls to put the altercation behind them and concentrate on their studies, Lavalais knew the situation had to be dealt with immediately. She asked them to cool down while she ushered in the rest of the school's 300 students, greeting each one by name, and flashing the peace sign as she called out, "Good morning to you. Have yourself a peaceful day."
Once school was in session, she turned her attention to the girls, taking time for a bit of conflict resolution. After peace was made, she sent them on to class.
At a large school, the silent war between friends might have gone unnoticed. In all likelihood, the girls would have been hurried along to class, even if they were too upset to concentrate on their lessons. In a larger school, staff members might not have known their names or realized they were best friends.
The misunderstanding was a relatively minor problem, says Lavalais, a member of United Educators of San Francisco (UESF). "But in a small school, students' feelings are important, and these things matter. Teachers can give everyone individual attention, whether on the schoolyard or in the classroom. Students feel cared for. And when they feel cared for, they learn more."
While other school districts have only recently begun thinking "small" as a way to improve student achievement and well-being, San Francisco Community School has been a small inner-city success story for nearly 30 years. It was established in 1972 by a group of dedicated parents who believed their children would perform better in a small, alternative setting. Some of the school's parents are now involved in trying to get a small high school built in San Francisco.
The K-8 campus, located in San Francisco's Excelsior District, is limited to 300 students and has a waiting list for parents who want to enroll their children. It is considered a model for the burgeoning small schools movement, which maintains that small, community schools are the "missing piece" in education reform - especially when it comes to helping minority and disadvantaged students.
J. Cohn teaches a geometry lesson at San Francisco Community School.
San Francisco Community School is not a miniaturized version of your typical urban campus. While it might be classified as an alternative school, it is not a charter school. But it clearly has its own agenda, culture, learning style and priorities.
All grade levels have reduced class size. Mixed-age groupings - such as a kindergarten, first- and second-grade combination class or a third-, fourth- and fifth-grade combination - are the norm.
No bells ring to signal recess or lunch.
In an age of standards-based instruction and testing, teachers try to avoid the "drill and kill" approach to teaching. In a careful balancing act, they try to get students prepared for standardized testing without letting tests become the driving force behind instruction.
Students spend nine weeks each fall and spring working on "projects" of their own choosing, including hands-on activities. For example, last year a student chose to do a unit on the human body as it relates to running. He studied the circulatory and skeletal systems in depth, ran a five kilometer race, and designed a pamphlet for other children on how to train as a runner. Another student studied illnesses related to the environment, which culminated in a well-attended rally against a local power plant.
Clearly the school is a place where critical thinking is more valued than rote memorization. Whether because of these priorities, or in spite of them, students perform well on the SAT-9. The school, which has a student body that is 73 percent minority, received an API ranking of 7 out of 10, and rated a 9 when compared to similar schools. While teachers say they don't worry about test scores, they are relieved their scores are high enough to avoid state interference.
At San Francisco Community School, students stay with the same teacher for two or three years, but have a different teacher during project-based learning. Classrooms are noisy without being out of control. There is freedom without chaos. At recess, children are allowed to run since the yard isn't crowded. No one minds if they get dirty. Many spend recess mixing sand and water into strange concoctions. There is a sensory garden with plants of varying smells and textures and a butterfly garden designed to attract winged creatures. It is place where learning is fun.
"We have small classes and we learn more," says seventh-grader Jenna Ortega. "It's different from being in a regular middle school, where you would have a different teacher every period. But I think I'm learning more."
"I don't think this school is as hard as other schools," muses sixth-grader Molly Alsnauer. "Teachers aren't always jamming stuff in our heads. We work on something until we really understand it."
The facility is a "teacher-run" school, which has no principal. The "head teacher" position is rotated every three years.
Teachers sport piercings and dreadlocks, and want students to call them by their first names. But don't get the wrong idea. The staff takes education very seriously. Teachers speak passionately about "commitment to equity on all levels," the value of early intervention and the importance of making sure no child falls between the cracks.
Lavalais, the student advisor, helps students whose needs might otherwise go unmet. She may sit with students during class, offering encouragement and assistance if they are having trouble following the teacher. She helps students with schoolwork during lunchtime. And if there really is a problem, she has no qualms about knocking on their parents' doors.
"Have we closed the learning gap? No, but we're making small steps," says UESF member Tanya Friedman, who serves as head teacher. "We haven't closed it, but we have narrowed it. We have made a commitment to equity on all levels."
"Small schools are not the solution just because they are small," adds Friedman. "Being small, however, does magnify everything - the challenges and the strengths. One thing we are able to do is make sure no child falls through the cracks. Teachers know the name of every child in the school and they know most of the parents by name. Children have a strong connection to this school because lots of adults really know them. We work very hard to make this a welcoming place, where parents feel they are likely to be heard. They feel like they're part of the shared leadership here, and, when they want to take on a project, they do."
The small environment also aids teacher collaboration and shared leadership, says Friedman. "We have high quality meetings, work well together and ask each other hard questions because we trust each other," she says. "That's harder to do with 40 or 50 people."
The setup empowers teachers and allows them to feel ownership in a different way, she says. "We stand up for what matters. Instead of fighting the system, we can strengthen our school together as part of a team to focus on what matters - children's growth and development."
"We can determine what our needs are rather than being told what our needs are," says Deni Asnis, who teaches first and second grade. "It's incredibly exciting and fulfilling to feel that you have a voice. But it's also a lot more work and a lot more meetings. We all feel accountable to each other. Right now our focus is on equity. Because we share a common vision and hold each other accountable, I truly believe we are going to make progress."
At the San Francisco school, students spend a lot of time talking about their feelings and working out their personal problems with each other. In Asnis' class they sign up for regularly scheduled conflict-resolution sessions. Steps include stopping and cooling off; taking turns talking and listening to each other; brainstorming with other students on ways to solve the problem; and picking an idea that both sides can live with.
During one session, Destiny Daniels and Marlon Murcia Cruz sit in the middle of a circle, surrounded by their classmates. They are told to cool off, take a deep breath and, if necessary, get a teddy bear.
"I feel sad when I'm in line and you push me out of the way," says Destiny.
"But you were in front of me, and I wanted to be in front of you," says Marlon. "Every time I get in line I'm behind someone bigger and I can't see where the line is going."
Other students raise their hands to offer suggestions. One says that Marlon could ask Destiny to let him be in front. Another student points out that Marlon could get in line earlier to be first.
Asnis asks several students to line up and tells Marlon to get behind Destiny. She asks them to march around the room, and tells Marlon that she notices he has no apparent difficulty following Destiny, even though she is bigger. He nods in surprised agreement.
Marlon says he will talk to Destiny in the future and will not push her.
"Can you accept that?" asks Asnis.
Destiny nods and the session is over.
"It really sets the tone for the school when kids can have a dialogue," says Asnis. "They learn how to treat each other with respect, which is very important."
Students say this translates into a feeling of safety. "There're not that many bullies here," says sixth-grader Marilyn Agbulos. "In a big school, it might be different."
By the time students get to the age where they would normally attend middle school, there are subtle differences, says J. Cohn, a math teacher for sixth-, seventh- and eighth-graders.
"Normally in middle school, you are thrown into a huge place at an extremely awkward age. You are trying to be cool. But here, where everyone knows everyone, students don't have to worry as much about their appearance or self-esteem. There isn't bullying here, unlike middle school. At recess, the older kids watch over the younger kids. They are very nurturing. There are rarely any fights. Because they have gone through school being instilled with values and conflict mediation skills, older students can put these things to use in class or on the playground."
The small campus cannot offer teen activities like dances or sports teams, says Cohn, a member of UESF. "We lack those things, but do as much as we can. We try to make up for it with activities, such as extra field trips or taking them sailing. There is a Boys and Girls Club next door where they can go after school and meet more teenagers, so they are not socially cut off."
At the end of eighth grade, students start to feel restless, says Cohn. "They have been here nine years, and know that high school is waiting for them. They can hardly wait to go. But then a funny thing happens when they leave. They all come back to visit. They say they like high school, but they are very curious about what is happening here. They miss everyone. And, of course, everyone misses them."
San Francisco Community School Student Advisor Mary Lavalais mediates a squabble between best friends Denise Navarro and Nellie Baker.
J. Cohn teaches a geometry lesson at San Francisco Community School.
