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

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

“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

83 and Entropy

color caos photoThis past August, we celebrated our school’s highest graduation rate ever: 83%.  For us, this was a triumph; the highest percentage before this point had been 74%.  Other things looked good at the end of the year, too: our 9th graders had done well on their exams, attendance increased, and suspensions went down.

This school year, other things have looked promising as well: we started a “hallway countdown” that’s leading to kids getting to class faster, our school is cleaner, and the overall atmosphere seems brighter, more positive.

Yet, as I was bragging about my successes to my leadership consultants Ariel and Shya Kane, they said, “We’re hearing alarm bells when you say, ‘My 9th grade is in great shape.’  Continue reading

“I no longer want to be a teacher”

Kids writingI was sure Sophia* was going to become a teacher.

Sophia was a 12th grader who had shown a passion for teaching.   Last summer, she tutored a group of classmates in history and did a great job.  After the experience, Sophia told me she wanted to become a math teacher.  I told her to reach out to us after college to teach at our school and she loved the idea.  I even wrote about Sophia, calling her The First Hire of 2023 (link).

So this past June, I was surprised to see that Sophia had changed her mind. Continue reading