CHARTING THE COURSEThe state's first charter school aims to teach students no one else can by Christopher Wills Greeley School once was a dead place. The century-old school building stood empty, its classrooms abandoned except for dust and memories. Now, though, the building bubbles with activity: students working multiplication problems at the blackboard, learning CPR, scribbling away on tests. And these aren't just any students working so hard. They are among the most troubled and unruly children Peoria has to offer. Like the building, they seemed to have no future. Like the building, they have been given a second chance. Welcome to the Peoria Alternative Charter School, the first and only such school in Illinois. The school works outside the normal education system, performing a specific mission: teaching students no one else can teach. Other such schools are in the works; each will follow its own specific education plan, or charter. One will prepare Mexican-American children for college. Another will combine school with treatment for substance abuse. But right now, Peoria's school is the only one up and running. Plans for it were already underway when the legislature passed a bill last summer (after years of discussion) that opened the door to charter schools. The law provides for 45 schools: 15 in Chicago, 15 in the Chicago suburbs and 15 scattered across the rest of the state. Illinois government has a long history of letting other states experiment with new ideas and then adopting the ones that show promise. Charter schools are no exception. Minnesota began trying them in 1991, and the Center for Education Reform, a nonprofit group that advocates charter schools, says 25 states and the District of Columbia allow charter schools (although only 16 and D.C. have them in place). Illinois brings up the rear with one; Arizona and California lead the way, with 164 and 109 respectively. As the first in Illinois, Peoria's charter school gets frequent visits from educators considering alternatives for their areas. "I tell our students, 'We're a historic school. We're the first in Illinois,'" says Fred McAfee, the charter school's director. "They're not coming here to see a building. They want to see some students. They want to see some faces." One face they can see belongs to Valerie, a junior who was nearly flunking out of her previous school and was expelled for drug possession. Now she makes As and enjoys finishing a test before anyone else. She got some of the best scores in the district on a recent standardized test. Valerie says she dreads the weekend because it means time away from school. "At first I was kind of leery about coming to this school because I thought I wouldn't know anyone," says Valerie, whose interview was arranged on condition that her last name not be used. "I've found there's more motivation here for me to do my homework. The teachers seem to care more about you. ... The teachers here don't want us on the street. If we miss a day of school, they want to know where we've been." The school has three teachers and three aides for 45 students: one adult for every 7.5 students, an unusually low student-to-teacher ratio. That lets the teachers get more involved in their students' work and their lives. The teachers talk a lot about attitude, about showing the children they can succeed academically and socially. Once they begin to succeed, they thrive, the teachers say. In fact, students at the charter school get a "wider window of tolerance" for breaking rules. Minor misbehavior — chewing gum, the occasional curse word — brings a reprimand instead of a trip to the office. Bigger trouble means a discussion with the teacher (and perhaps the rest of the class) and banishment to another room until the misbehavior ends. More serious punishment, such as a suspension, is rare — because it is rarely needed, the staff says. But don't think the teachers simply hand out hugs and good grades in a naive attempt to boost self-confidence. "The bottom line is respect. I demand respect. I also have to show respect," says Felix Lobdell, a 20-year veteran teacher who runs one of the school's two high school classes. "I'm from the old school. Everything you receive in terms of a grade is what you earned." Valerie also benefits from another part of the school's unique approach: social services. Workers from the Red Cross, Junior Achievement, Planned 32 / June 1997 Illinois Issues Parenthood, even the police department visit often to instruct the students on everything from nutrition to sexually transmitted diseases. "One of the drug abuse services has really helped me," Valerie says. "They got me into kind of a rehab program." The day begins at 8:30 in the gymnasium. Director McAfee, a slender man with a passing resemblance to actor Morgan Freeman, tells the students a recent group of visitors was impressed by the school: "They learned something, and I'm very proud of how you conducted yourselves." He reminds them the year is drawing to a close and perhaps he can arrange a trip to a local restaurant for the entire school — but work comes first. "We know you can get good grades. We know you can behave. We know you can succeed. Therefore, we expect you to do that!" McAfee says. Then the bell rings and the students line up to go to class. They start with lessons in "conflict resolution," discussing what's troubling them, how to handle anger, what behavior is appropriate and what isn't. The 30 high school students talk as a group about their worries; the 15 middle school students mostly write in journals. The classes move on to pronouns and fractions and the Federalist Era. The mornings are conducted somewhat like a one-room schoolhouse, with a teacher and aide covering a variety of topics. In the afternoons, the classes move around among the different teachers. This movement was introduced in the school's second semester to more closely resemble activity in other schools and to make the children adjust to different teachers with different styles. "Some of the kids who have made huge strides in behavior in my room go to another room and revert," says middle-school teacher Diann Holloway. "And the same is true of some kids from other rooms who come to mine." The academic business is intermingled with social services. Small groups of students are pulled out of class to learn about health care. Today they are learning to give CPR to infants. A speaker from Peoria's Human Service Center is talking to the middle-school students about dating and proper
behavior, including the perils of date rape. This session is one of the few times it becomes clear these are not just any students. One girl tells a story and matter-of-factly mentions it happened to "me and my probation officer and her friend." At 3 p.m., the students go off to study music or painting. Their day ends at 4. "The extended day is good for them. It allows us to provide them with extra activities and also gives them a place where they're structured for a longer portion of the day," says Holloway. They also are safer. Many of the children come from neighborhoods where gangs and violence are common. The charter school sits in a rough neighborhood, but the doors are locked to outsiders. The students don't leave the building until school is over. Even then an adult supervises their departure. That means a lot to Amanda, a senior who was expelled from her regular school for fighting. She seems sincerely relieved to be in a locked, gang-free building. Amanda had the chance to return to her regular school this spring but chose to stay at the charter school. The school has a bad reputation with some people, Amanda says. They call it a "jail school" or the "bad people's school." But it helped boost her grades and her confidence. "It came with time. It came with learning and getting to know everyone and hearing other people's problems," she says. Like any family, this one sometimes faces tragedy. The original director, Joe Alien, col 33 / June 1997 Illinois Issues lapsed at the school and died January 28. He was a huge man, a former college basketball star who had devoted himself to troubled children. He could dominate a room with both his physical presence and his attitude, a mixture of compassion and determination. "Mr. McAfee is the director, but Mr. Alien is still in charge," says Lobdell. "Everything is going just like he's still here." That stability flows both from Alien's personality and the extensive planning that went into the charter school. Peoria's school district and the juvenile program Youth Farm had already opened the school for a brief trial run when the charter legislation was approved. Officials simply adopted the charter idea once it was available. Other groups are finding it more difficult to start charter schools. Organizing a school involves several steps. First, someone has to come up with a proposal and submit it to a local school board. Then it has to be approved by the school board and sent to the state. Then the State Board of Education must approve it. Meanwhile, the planners have to find staff, a building to house the school and the money to run it. When the school is running, it will get money for each student, just as any other public school does. But that does not help with the start-up costs or the cost of leasing a building. "There's definitely a steep learning curve on this," says Margaret Lin, coordinator of charter school support for Chicago's Leadership for Quality Education. "It's very difficult to start a charter school. It has to operate like a start-up business. Plus, you're running a government service." Leadership for Quality Education, which is affiliated with Chicago's Commercial Club, is helping with advice and technical know-how for groups trying to start charter schools. The school district has put $2 million into a loan fund for capital improvements at charter school sites. And the State Board of Education has gotten a $788,000 federal grant that will provide about $40,000 for planning at the approved charter schools. Chicago is the only part of the state making much progress on charter schools. Five charters have been approved by the school board and submitted to the state, including a bilingual college-prep school in Little Village, a predominantly Mexican- American community, and a middle school aimed at older children who are at risk of dropping out. Several more proposals are in the works, and Lin expects eight charter schools to open in Chicago this fall. Downstate Illinois may have only Peoria, and it is unclear what will happen in the suburbs. Last year, plans for a rigorous, back-to-basics school were shopped around to 11 districts and rejected because of technical flaws. The plan has been revamped and proposed for Arlington Heights, Elk Grove and Des Plaines. Marilyn Keller Rittmeyer, a teacher and mother, has been a leader in the Thomas Jefferson Charter School Foundation proposing that joint project. She says organizers have faced several roadblocks, from needing a definite school site before approval to trying to get timid parents to sign a petition endorsing the charter school. (To get approval, the group needed a building. To get a building, they signed a lease requiring a $17,000 security deposit July 1. To get that money, they need approval so they can go borrow money. If they aren't approved, they're stuck.)
Rittmeyer bemoans the death of Illinois Senate legislation that would have simplified the process. Sponsored by Sen. Peter Fitzgerald, a Palatine Republican who helped get the original charter school legislation approved, the measure would have allowed groups to obtain charters without first leasing school sites and would have made it harder for school districts to reject proposals. But it died a quick death, never even making it to the Senate floor. Rep. Mary Lou Cowlishaw, a Naperville Republican and another original backer of charter schools, agrees such changes are needed. She also wants to give groups a way around school boards by letting them take their charter applications to regional school superintendents. That way, jealous school boards would not be able to impede the process, she says. "If there is a group of parents, teachers and other citizens who want to start a charter school, that's sort of an indication there's something going on they're not happy with," Cowlishaw says. Rittmeyer may be frustrated with the process, but she says the struggle has been worthwhile. "The major thing that appeals to me is that charter schools are responsive to parents and allow for choice," she says. "I really believe in choice. This, to me, is a matter of liberty." And to such students as Amanda, it's a matter of possibilities. She now has the chance to attend college, and then she can decide what her future will be. But she already has decided what it won't be: "It's not going to be sitting on my butt watching Jenny Jones. I'm going to do something." Chris Wills is the Peoria bureau chief for The Associated Press. 34 / June 1997 Illinois Issues
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