By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
By Eric Nicholson
I'm sitting at a makeshift work table in a down-at-the-heels apartment complex in Richardson, staring at a table of numbers on a page. These figures, grainy and warped from too many generations of photocopying, are a parade of hieroglyphic epitaphs scrolling before my eyes like war dead, whispering the answer to a national riddle.
The Dallas Independent School District is ready to fight in court to keep these numbers secret. I have a kid in the Dallas Public Schools. The bitterest irony for me is that all of the wired-up, plugged-in parents, the ones who know how to game the system, know this secret already without ever seeing the numbers. It's the parents who aren't wired up who need the truth.
Twenty years ago the White House released a report called "A Nation at Risk," telling Americans the national educational system was so bad, if a foreign power had imposed it on us, "we might well have viewed it as an act of war." Since then, partly in response to the report's shock value, Americans have tripled spending on K-12 education, from $129 billion to $400 billion.
The National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP), an arm of the U.S. Department of Education, found in its 2002 "Nation's Report Card" that average reading scores for fourth-graders in America in 2002 were the same as results in 1992. Eighth-grade reading scores were the same as in 1998. Twelfth-graders did worse in 2002 than in 1992.
How can that be? This little apartment, with kids streaming in and out to play on the computer and get help with homework, with handmade rockets on the wall and jumbled science projects piled in corners: This is where the answer lies. Russell Fish, who lives here, knows why our attempts to reform education have hit the wall.
Fish, an engineer, once CEO of his own Silicon Valley start-up, lives by himself in Richardson and tutors the waifs and orphans of the new suburban flotsam and jetsam. That's a long story, and I will tell it some day.
But this story, about the numbers on the page before me, is urgent. Here, I will read you one row from the table: 57.2, 40.83, 33.26, 33.41. There. You have just witnessed the educational annihilation of a cohort of children.
These numbers are the mean math scores on the Iowa Test of Basic Skills for a certain set of elementary students in the Dallas public school system, measured annually from third to sixth grades. In that four-year period, this set of students dropped from the 63.19 percentile to the 21.89 percentile, a plummet of 41.3 points. Like all the kids in Garrison Keillor's fictional Lake Wobegon, these children started out above average. But these real-life kids wound up in the toilet.
Now ask me why. Were these poor kids? Minority children? Country youngsters? Kids from broken homes? Children of drug abusers? Children with learning disabilities?
The correct answer is none of the above.These numbers are the human scar tissue of bad teachers. The kids in the group described above were the ones unlucky enough to draw the worst teachers in their schools for four years in a row.
Let's use the unkind word the world will use eventually when it describes them as adults unable to read proficiently, unable to do simple math, unfamiliar with the history of their nation or the culture of the Western world, because they can't read:
Dumb. Dumb and dumber. That's what the public school system made them. And the sole factor distinguishing the careers of these kids from others just like them was the influence of bad teachers.
Everyone in education knows this research and has been reading it in serious peer-reviewed journals for years. This is not a secret. The data I'm showing you was developed by DISD six years ago, replicating research already done in Tennessee, which has the nation's oldest, deepest pool of standardized test data.
Dr. William Sanders, a statistician at the University of Tennessee, spent the 1990s mining Tennessee's rich data trove searching for the common link among students whose academic performance was poor. He showed that the common link in student failure was not class or money or the educational level of parents. It was teachers.
Sanders' data showed that good and well-trained teachers can move most students, no matter their background, to a point farther along on the educational trail than where teachers found them originally. But bad teachers can't teach any kid.
Sanders' work shows that the effect of bad teachers on kids is permanent. Getting a good teacher later on does not erase the achievement gap left by a bad one.
Fish, an education activist who has clashed with school officials in Austin and Dallas for a decade, is suing DISD to force it to release all of this data--not just a sampling but all of it, for every teacher in the district. He says the information will allow parents to know if their children are being sent to the classrooms of the worst teachers. The much-postponed and delayed lawsuit, now five years old, was scheduled to go to trial last month but was put off again until later this year.