The lonely kid

Bridge Ahmed blog

In my last blog, I wrote about a student who is thriving with online work. In this blog, I’ll write about a student who has struggled: Adam.*

Adam has had his ups and down as a student. in 9th grade, he arrived in the United States from Yemen. 9th and 10th grade were successful years for him , but 11th grade was a disaster: he cut classes and failed exams, leading to a serious conference with his father at the beginning of this year.

The conference worked. Adam shifted in 12th grade: he attended his classes, participated, asked questions. He even walked with purpose. Every day, he’d pass my office and say, “Hi miss!” as if to say, “See? I can do this, and I know you’re proud of me.”

Yet somehow, when we shifted to remote learning, we lost Adam. We gave him a Chromebook, but he wasn’t completing work. A staff member learned that Adam’s internet was spotty, so we helped him order a free, internet-enabled iPad through the New York City Department of Education, which was delivered in a couple of weeks.

Still, even with the iPad, he wasn’t completing work or returning phone calls. And we were unable to reach his father, who previously had been such a partner.

In my school, we have a team to support students struggling with online learning. Through that team, I was assigned to help Adam.

I called all the numbers listed for Adam’s family in our database: each call was a series of rings with no answer, or a number not in service.

On the fourth number, I suddenly heard, “Hello?” from a confident young voice, a combination Arabic and New York accent. “I’m his older brother. I’m working in the deli but I can talk.” The brother explained that his father had travelled to Yemen, but was now stuck, concerned about traveling home due to the virus.

Adam’s struggles all made sense now: his dad, his greatest support, was away.

Still, his brother was clearly trying to help Adam: “How about this, when I get home tonight, I’ll call you and we’ll talk to him together,” he told me.

The brother was true to his word. At 4:30 I got the call, and his brother passed his cell phone to Adam. I asked Adam to jump onto a video call with me, and he agreed.

I waited. After 5 minutes, I found myself getting impatient. I texted his brother, who assured me Adam was getting on the call.

After 15 minutes, I heard the “ping” of Adam joining, and I suddenly saw the friendly face and thick curls. “Hi miss!” he said. I noticed he looked tired.

We logged onto all of his classes together, answering a few questions in each class, helping him understand the platform. Adam assured me he’d get to work. A few minutes after the call, he texted, “Thanks so much for care, Miss.”

In the next two weeks, I saw Adam’s grades pop up from failing to passing.

When I reflected on Adam, there were so many things that made remote learning tough on him:

His father, his main support, wasn’t around. Adam missed him deeply.

Adam is also not the strongest reader. In school, his in-person friendliness and excellent speaking skills covered some of his literacy needs.

Also, simply being in school creates routine, structure, and a separation from home that is helpful for many kids. I had been impatient with Adam for taking so long to get on the video call, but my boyfriend Sathya pointed out, “Maybe he was trying to clean his room, or getting dressed. He might have been embarrassed. You’re the principal, it was probably weird for him.” Back in school, walking past my office to say “Hi,” Adam had felt a sense of pride, whereas it might have felt odd to open up his home, and himself, on video.

Adam is now on-track to graduate, but it hasn’t been easy. A kid like Adam misses being with people. He was fed by attention from his teachers, hanging out with his friends. A kid like Adam is lonely these days.

*The names of students have been changed.

Meeting Lucas for the first time

Colors at seaFor some students, remote learning has been a hurdle while for others, it’s transformed their lives for the better.  Today I’m going to focus on the latter.

Lucas* is a 12th grader who initially started as a like-able yet hot-headed 9th grader—quick to get embroiled in conflict, yet also quick to smile.  Over the years, we saw him mature, and even see him as a calming force for some friends.

He also has some challenges: Lucas is the devoted father of a sweet 18-month-old baby.  However, as he has needed to take more responsibility in providing for his child, he started missing school in favor of work. Continue reading

Channeling my inner Mr. Rogers

pink treeI’ve always liked talking to students, even if they’re “in trouble.”  I find it healing for me and for them.  I “channel my inner Mr. Rogers,” and try to see the world from a kid’s perspective.

When we moved to remote learning last month, I knew we had use video to bring our presence to the students—our inner “Mr. Rogers.”  We scheduled bi-weekly video conferences with classes (“office hours”) and taught teachers how to make video lessons.

However, at the beginning, a few teachers were camera-shy and made video lessons without their faces showing (the “screencasting” program we’re using gives the option of presenting a lesson with or without a video image of the presenter, so kids might just hear a voice narrating a Powerpoint).  I made two points to the teachers: one, in a school of English Language Learners, it’s crucial for kids to both hear and see the language being spoken.  Two, the kids miss us. Continue reading

To Whom It May Concern

wp-1587120790701.jpgWe’re in our fourth week of remote learning after schools were closed for COVID-19. Thinking back to last month, I am still amazed by what we accomplished in three days: all teachers learned how to create Google Classrooms, film themselves teaching, and run videoconferencing “office hours” with students.  We created a plan for a reasonable student workload.  We distributed over 260 Chromebooks to students in one day, and created a “Student Connectivity Team” to help any families that struggled with internet access.

On our first day of remote learning, I was completely immersed in setting up our systems.  So when I got this email, it took me by surprise:

To whom it may concern, Continue reading

School is home

wp-1584280807084.jpgIt has been a surprisingly rich week for me to work in a public high school.  I saw my staff’s dedication in a new light, and I saw what school means to kids with the very real possibility of schools being closed.

Let me say upfront that this is not a piece for or against closing schools.  My school is in learning and preparation mode: we’re preparing for schools being open with low attendance, or schools being closed—and in both cases, the need for supporting students and families at home.

A week ago, as coronavirus awareness started to spread, a few students asked giddily, “Is school going to be closed?” Continue reading

All figured out

Jeffrey Zeldman NYCWhen I was a first-year teacher, I thought my second year of teaching would be unimaginably easy.  By year two, I reckoned, I’d have it all figured out: a year’s worth of lesson plans and perfect systems for grading and classroom management.  As a result, I’d have all kinds of free time on the weekend.

Of course, that wasn’t the case.  Sure, a few things were easier, but every year brings new kids, new ideas to try out, and new “asks” of educators.  And then there’s simply the pursuit of excellence: as a teacher, Sundays were about reading over student work and planning.  I learned to be more efficient, but I spent the same amount of time planning because I was always learning how to teach better.

The same goes for being the founding principal of a school. Continue reading

Honking towards graduation

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Student artwork from the High School of Language and Innovation

Zamir* was a 12th grade student, originally from Albania.  He had come to New York with his older sister when he was in the 10th grade, and hadn’t seen his parents for almost 3 years.  His sister did her best to support him, but didn’t seem prepared to manage a teenage boy.  She also had her hands full with a toddler and work.   

Zamir developed a habit of coming extremely late to school, if he came at all.  My assistant principal Shira and I had a meeting with him.  We tried the usual motivations: “What do you want to do after high school?” and “Think of going back to Albania and showing your parents your high school diploma.”

In the past, Zamir would respond, “Yeah,” or “OK,” but something was different this time.  He spoke honestly: “Those things don’t motivate me,” he said.  Continue reading

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1”

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Watercolors by 9th graders line our hallway

In most high schools, something very dramatic happens every 45 to 60 minutes: students transition from one class to another.  A school that seems peaceful and quiet while everyone is in class, suddenly erupts as hundreds of teenagers are in the hallway.

When my school first opened in 2011 with 90 students and 4 classrooms, those transitions were easy.  However, as we grew to almost 400 kids in 16 classrooms, 2 floors, and multiple hallways, transitions became harder to manage.  Students would engage in longer and longer conversations with their friends, or kiss each other on both cheeks and squeal as if they hadn’t seen each other for years. Some kids would just stand, and not move.  (That drove me crazy.) Continue reading

Why I love 9th graders

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9th graders’ watercolors in art class

I love 9th graders; this week, I experienced again why.

Periodically, I visit every classroom to deliver a quick “check in” or important message.  My visits can be to remind students of an expectation (“Let’s keep our cafeteria clean”), say “Thank you” for an exemplary behavior, or reinforce a value we’re teaching, like persevering through a challenge.

Our building had recently had a rash of false fire alarms being pulled by students from other schools, causing building-wide evacuations.  To be proactive, I visited classes with my assistant principals to remind students of expectations when we evacuate, and to explain the consequences of pulling an alarm. Continue reading

We don’t call parents to complain

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Student playing a board game at lunchtime.

Every year, there seems to be a class that gets a bad rap-“that class,” which teachers say is tough to teach. Recently a few teachers met with me about this year’s “tough class.”

The teacher’s solution: they wanted to invite the students’ parents into the classrooms to witness how the students were behaving.

I was surprised: why would the teachers want the parents to see the kids behaving badly? In fact, wouldn’t the kids just be good on that day? “Well,” said one teacher, “if the kids are good, then we can say, ‘See, you were good when your parents came in so why can’t you be this good everyday?’”

I remembered my first years of teaching middle school. When I struggled with a student, I would call parents about the problem. In hindsight, I see that I was asking—and actually wishing for– the parents to solve the problem. But in fact, the problem was mine.

My answer to the teachers’ request was no.

Continue reading