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To: E who wrote (3730)12/1/2002 12:22:23 PM
From: Lazarus_Long  Read Replies (1) | Respond to of 7689
 
Debate on Black Students Rages
A Pasadena teacher's note blaming disruptive African Americans for low test scores has stirred anger, pain and soul-searching.

By Sandy Banks, Times Staff Writer

There was nothing original about the teacher's observations:

At Pasadena's Muir High School -- as on many urban campuses -- black
students are cited more often than others for disciplinary problems. And they
score worse than others on standardized exams.

What was shocking was how the white teacher argued -- when he connected the dots with his public proclamation -- that unruly black students were responsible for his school's failure to make the grade.

"It has absolutely nothing to do with teachers or curriculum," Scott Phelps wrote in a letter to fellow teachers at Muir,
warning that test scores were likely to nose-dive.
"Standards of behavior, or the lack thereof" are to
blame.

He didn't hesitate to point the finger: "Overwhelmingly, the students whose behavior makes the hallways
deafening, who yell out for the teacher and demand immediate attention in class, who cannot seem to
stop chatting and are fascinated by each other but not with academics, in short, whose behavior saps
the strength and energy of us on the front lines, are African American."

Now, a month later, that letter continues ricocheting around the country, bouncing off assumptions
about race, youth and social class.

Phelps' letter resonated with many whites who feel threatened by the behavior of seemingly arrogant
young black men. And it offended many blacks weary of being singled out for blame.

Those were the predictable reactions. Other responses were more nuanced, as the letter prompted
finger-pointing, then soul-searching.

In newspaper columns, in private conversations, on talk radio, the "good" parents blamed the "bad"
ones; teachers denounced other teachers.

At a forum in Pasadena, a teenager with bad grammar and a crude tattoo privately offered a thoughtful
interpretation of her classmates' self-destructive attitudes, while a bookish college student said to
alarmed adults: "I'm sorry, but no one listens to you."

And underneath their rancor and their hurt, many blacks felt an odd sort of gratitude.

At a neighborhood meeting about the letter, Kitty McKnight, a former teacher, exploded after a district
official suggested that the solution to Muir's discipline problems was more tolerance and commitment
from teachers.

"I cannot sit and listen to this!" she shouted, rising from her seat. "Our boys are out of control."

McKnight, who is black, graduated from Muir, sent her two now-grown sons there and recently retired
after 40 years of teaching. "We have to do something," she told the crowd. "We are losing our boys!"
There was scattered applause in the black audience, but many sat in stunned silence.

Later, McKnight admitted that Phelps' letter triggered feelings of anger and frustration, but also guilt.

"Having been a teacher all these years, I never made it a point. But it's true. You talk to another black
teacher about the behavior of black students and they know exactly what you mean. I feel like I'm at
fault for not addressing it sooner."

Others felt a sense of betrayal.

"I'm not saying it's true or not true," an angry father told a community meeting. "But it hurts to be held
up to ridicule by someone whom we have entrusted our children's minds to."

It also hurts, Phelps said, to be labeled a racist for "simply making empirical observations of behavior
that are totally supported by data."

Phelps left a research program at Caltech to teach high school science 12 years ago. He is known by
peers as a passionate critic of district officials, and a hard-working, dedicated teacher. He tutors
physics students for free, invites kids over for family dinners, visits their homes to host study sessions.

"He's not much of a public speaker or a disciplinarian, but he's one of the best teachers I ever had,"
said Muir alum Chad Hunter, who attends Pasadena City College and interns at Jet Propulsion
Laboratory. It's a job he got with Phelps' help. "Mr. Phelps would do whatever it took to help, if you
wanted to learn and you're willing to work."

Phelps says he never intended to insult black students. But many felt that his commentary, written in the
dense style of an academic, had clear racial overtones. Black male teachers are better at controlling
black students, he wrote, because they "have no trouble 'going off' on the kids."

In conversation, Phelps offers a list of white, Latino and Asian American teachers he says left Muir
because they were intimidated by aggressive black students.

"The cultures are so different, in order for white teachers to feel comfortable they have to put a lot of
energy into changing the behavior of kids who are not like them," he said.

It is Phelps' attribution of misbehavior to cultural deficiencies that really rankles his critics.

"If children are disruptive, let's say that. Let's not say they're disruptive because they're black," said
Assistant Supt. George McKenna. "Some of these kids deserve credit just for showing up" at school,
given their chaotic home lives and troubled neighborhoods.

More than a third of Muir's 1,300 students live with single mothers, almost half are from families living
below the poverty line, and almost 10% live apart from their families in county-run shelters or group
homes.

Teachers who aren't willing to accept that the stresses in children's lives spill onto the campus "ought to
be teaching in Beverly Hills," McKenna said.

The fracas over the letter created such tension that Phelps was escorted off campus and put on two
weeks' paid leave -- not as punishment, district officials said, but for his protection. At the extremes,
outsiders viewed him as either a martyr on the altar of political correctness or an example of racism
infecting public education

"Sorry to hear about the terrible treatment you are getting from your high school," e-mailed Joe Owens
from England. "Can't people speak the truth now days.... Everyone in education will say the same, but
don't have the guts to say it in public."

An e-mail posted on a message board aimed at black women took this view: "It's ironic that ad
campaigns are jamming the idea into our children's minds that everyone is alike, only to have this idiot
magnify inferiority complexes that they already feel."

For some, the debate has less to do with the message than the messenger.

Would the uproar have been the same if Phelps had been black? Probably not, said USC professor
Todd Boyd, who studies race, culture and communication.

Consider African Americans a family, Boyd said. Phelps was "out of place" in speaking so bluntly. "It's
one thing for a member of your family to scold you. That comes from a history of love and support,
knowledge and understanding," he said. "You take that comment differently if it comes from someone
off the street."

Even among those who agreed with Phelps, many bristled at the media attention his letter drew. "It
plays to the image of black people not caring," Boyd said. "It's not like we've been silent about kids
misbehaving.... We just haven't broadcast it on TV."

Discipline problems aren't confined to streetwise black children. Foul language, fistfights and sexually
provocative behavior happen on campuses across the nation.

"It's cultural, and I mean American culture," said Pasadena High School teacher Lisa Newton. "I
remember my son at 7, turning on the television and seeing Bart Simpson and how he had such a lack
of respect for authority. These kids are emulating music videos, TV shows, MTV."

And their parents, said retired teacher McKnight. "I called a mother and said, 'Your son is not acting in
an appropriate manner in class,' " she recalled. "And she started in right away, 'My son told me about
you. I know you're black, but you're prejudiced against him.' "

National studies of school disciplinary records going back more than 25 years show black youths are
punished more often and more harshly than other students, but for less-serious and more-subjective
offenses.

"The more active and physical style of communication that characterizes African American adolescents
... may be interpreted as combative or argumentative," suggests research by a University of South
Florida professor.

Some teachers put a positive spin on the cultural differences.

"Yes, the black kids are noisier, but so are the Greeks, the Italians," said Hannah Naiditch, who was
raised in Europe and spent 14 years teaching science in Los Angeles before retiring in 1984.

"The black kids were not as easily intimidated.... But that's what made teaching so interesting. Then we
weren't so obsessed with all this high-stakes testing; you could use a little creativity."

Today, most teachers say they don't have that luxury. They say the pressure to produce on
standardized tests requires students to move in lock-step, putting them under the gun and frustrating
struggling students.

And sometimes disruptive behavior masks anxiety and fear.

"We've got kids with fifth-grade reading skills, and we're trying to teach them algebra," said Newton.
They feel like academic failures, so they shift attention to their social strengths by cutting up in class,
bullying other kids. "They're angry. They're drowning. But we save them at the expense of how many
other students?"

That's the question Phelps' letter also raised when he condemned Muir's "horrible" ninth-graders for
"bouncing off the walls ... chasing each other through the hallways, into classrooms, yelling at the tops
of their lungs."

That would have been Velta Strouble, 30 years ago. She got kicked out of Muir in 10th grade for
cutting classes and being disruptive, but straightened up and went on to earn two master's degrees.

Now she's an educational consultant and the mother of two boys who have generated more than their
share of calls from Muir for fighting or mouthing off in class. Her boys are smart, but they are also
boisterous and occasionally unruly, just as their mother was, she said.

"But that's no reason to give up on them," she added. "I know that teachers are frustrated, but every
child is not going to fit the 'perfect student' mold."

Teachers say they're not asking for perfect students. They would settle for teenagers who don't saunter
into class 30 minutes late, interrupt a test with a request to borrow lip gloss, or curse them out in the
middle of a lesson.

What teachers would like includes smaller classes, better academic preparation in elementary school
and more vocational programs to broaden the choices for unconventional children. And a way of
convincing parents that success in school ought to be a priority.

"When I drop my son off at school, I see kids showing up with no backpacks, no books. You know
they're not serious about education," said Johari DeWitt-Rogers, a Muir parent.

"In the same way this teacher's letter galvanized people to come forward and protest his statements,
we're going to have to get the community to rally together and turn things around, to say this is not
acceptable for our young people."

latimes.com



To: E who wrote (3730)12/5/2002 9:24:54 AM
From: Lane3  Read Replies (1) | Respond to of 7689
 
I thought you might find interesting today's column by Richard Cohen, unrepentant liberal, on the subject of mangled syntax.

Adlai and Ike All Over Again

By Richard Cohen
Thursday, December 5, 2002; Page A35

Is Al Gore destined to be the Adlai Stevenson of our age? Stevenson, who also came from a political family (his grandfather was Grover Cleveland's vice president), won the Democratic presidential nomination in 1952 and 1956 and both times was defeated by Dwight D. Eisenhower. Stevenson was considered an intellectual -- an "egghead" in the jargon of the day -- witty and erudite. Ike, on the other hand, was a clumsy speaker, a syntax-mangler who supposedly thought no great thoughts. He won both times in a walk.

If my reference to Eisenhower brings George W. Bush to mind, it is supposed to. The two are hardly the same, of course. Ike was a war hero who, for most of his career, so obfuscated his political leanings that both Democrats and Republicans wanted him to be their presidential candidate. And when he did run for the White House, he did not eke out a victory -- no hanging chads for him -- but neatly trounced Stevenson. America really liked Ike.

Democrats were perplexed. To them, Ike was a bumbler, something of a political coward as well. He had refused to publicly rebuke that red-baiting demagogue, Sen. Joseph McCarthy of Wisconsin. Ike was both slow and reluctant to bring what was then called the "moral suasion" of the White House down on the side of the nascent civil rights struggle. And he appeared to be a delegator's delegator -- so detached from the workings of his own White House that sometimes he seemed ignorant of what was going on. He was Reagan before Reagan.

But what really mystified many Stevenson fans was how the country did not appreciate that their man was brilliant and Ike a fool. These people judged both men as if they were taking their orals -- the way they spoke, the clarity of their thoughts, just the right reference to something from the classics. Stevenson could do that; Ike could not. The cartoonists had a field day.

If anything, Bush is sometimes characterized as even more of a cartoon figure -- a man of such mangled syntax he makes Ike seem downright Shakespearean. And yet, as Bob Woodward shows us in his new book, "Bush at War," Bush had what it took to lead his contentious war cabinet and, much more important, the nation in the wake of the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks. His performance has not been without glitches and mistakes, but in his demeanor, his body language -- his something -- he has won the confidence of the American people.

The details in Woodward's book are riveting -- he's not the proverbial fly on the wall, he's the wall itself -- but they don't change the larger picture. The proof of Bush's performance is in the pudding. He did not merely lead the GOP to victory in the recent midterm election, he emerged as the country's dominant politician -- popular in general, adored within his own party. For the moment, at least (a columnist's dodge), he seems in sync with the nation.

And yet in certain Democratic circles, the caricature of Bush as a fool clings with great tenacity. Daily, it seems, I get yet another Bush joke via e-mail. Some of them make me laugh, even though I know the basis for them is untrue. But the people who send them aren't laughing at the assumption. They believe it. To be blunt, they think the president is a dope.

As some of us learned in high school, verbal agility ain't everything. No one would dispute that Gore has it, and yet presidentially speaking, he doesn't get the girl. Just recently, for instance, the New York Times found in a poll that Gore was rated favorably by only 19 percent of respondents -- and unfavorably by 43 percent.

Those figures, the Times said, were among the worst since the paper started asking that question in 1987. Even among Democrats (33 percent) and independents (17 percent), Gore's favorable rating does not get close to 50 percent -- this after he had completed a book promotion tour in which, it seemed, he appeared everywhere except on al-Jazeera.

Gore is now considering whether to run for president again. If he does, he will be the presumptive front-runner, the candidate with the greatest name recognition if not the greatest claim on the nomination: He actually won the popular vote last time out. Still, now is not then, and the Bush of the campaign is not the Bush in the White House.

More and more, Bush is looking like Ike. And more and more, Gore is looking like Stevenson.

© 2002 The Washington Post Company