Category: Teachers

One Size Rarely Fits All

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

teacher_block_scheduleMorning time is still quiet in my neighborhood. The big yellow school bus that stops just outside of my living room window won’t be picking up children until next week. Nonetheless today virtually every school teacher in the state and a significant number of students are officially back on duty for the new school year. Thus begins the annual effort to educate our youth accompanied by the criticisms of our educational system that are certain to come from parents and pundits, professors and proletariat. Everyone has an opinion when it comes to how best to teach our children and for as long as I have been associated with that profession most of the critiques have leaned toward the negative. In spite of all of our discussions it sometimes seems as though we never quite escape from the sense that somehow we have failed our teachers and our kids.

Bashing our schools and the hard working individuals who man the classrooms inside them is a perennially favorite topic of office seekers who lay claim to having the magical answers that will instantly solve all of the problems that plague our educational system. Of course the truth is that they and many of those who vote for them oversimplify both the perceived difficulties as well as the solutions. Only those who have spent enough time inside a classroom doing the heavy lifting have a true concept of what happens from day to day and few of them are ever consulted for ideas.

It has been suggested by those who analyze such things that it is only after at least five years of experience that a teacher is truly battle tested. While there are naturals and rock stars within the teaching profession just as in sporting events, their true greatness usually doesn’t exhibit itself until they have garnered a thousand days of dealing with a variety of students. The laws of probability make it likely that the more tested educators will have encountered both rewarding and challenging situations. These experiences will either have enhanced their abilities or encouraged them to choose a different profession. Teaching is so difficult from day to day that few who lack the necessary determination and skills are willing to stay for more than two or three years. Sadly there is a tendency in today’s world to promote sorely unprepared individuals to leadership positions based only on a couple of good years in the trenches along with credentials from top rated universities. In far too many schools the leaders know far less than their battle tested underlings. Their experiments often lead to both a loss of talented teachers and dire consequences for students.

I have walked thousands of miles in a teacher’s shoes. I’ve worn out my feet and my bladder moving around classrooms and monitoring hallways. I’ve been observed by my superiors just as I have observed other educators. I’ve had good days and bad and seen excellence and failure. I suspect that I know a bit about how best to teach our young but not really enough to tout myself as an expert. Still I have a few ideas that seem to point in the right direction for improvement of our systems. 

Several years ago I worked at South Houston Intermediate. There were times when I had so many students that I struggled to fit the desks inside my classroom. I had already learned that the problems that crop up are increased exponentially with the addition of each student after around twenty five. My finest teaching moments always came when I had a group of around twenty to twenty two kids. I had enough time and energy to provide them with a more individualized experience.

Many students need extra attention in order to learn. Pacing of a lesson to include one on one interventions is crucial, particularly in subjects like mathematics. If a teacher has thirty students for fifty five minutes it is often impossible to provide the necessary time to those who are struggling to understand a concept. Removing only five students from the equation is likely to make the situation more doable. It is a fact that smaller class sizes improve the odds that more individualized instruction will happen and less time will be spent putting out classroom management fires.

A few years back the powers that be decided to make South Houston Intermediate a seventh and eight grade campus and to move the sixth graders to a different building. The difference in the general atmosphere is astounding. Movement in the hallways is more fluid with fewer altercations and misunderstandings occurring without the crowding that existed when I worked there. Students are more likely to be on time for the beginning of each period. There are fewer of them in each area of the building. Class sizes are smaller. The change has created a much happier place for everyone but most importantly it has given each and every student and teacher more opportunity to interact. It is less likely that someone will fall through the cracks than when we were crammed inside the school like sardines.

There are now curriculum specialists on campus to assist teachers in every subject area as well. They are individuals with many years of experience who know the challenges that teachers face. Their goal is to alleviate many of the time devouring activities that distract educators from the heart of their work. When those who teach become paper pushers their students suffer. The facilitators at South Houston work alongside the classroom instructors to ensure that students are getting the best of their teachers’ energy and talent. The educators feel less isolated and alone in dealing with the many challenges that they encounter from day to day. The specialists are available to mentor, guide and help rather than create more work for often beleaguered teachers. The system creates a more dynamic and student centered school.

Reducing the size of schools and providing teachers with dedicated and expert facilitators are simple ideas that help to place the focus on what is most important, the individual student. There really is no one size fits all in instruction. The best teachers are adept at quickly shifting gears as the situation demands. They know the strengths and weaknesses of every child who depends on them. Watching them from one moment to another reveals that they are fluid and expert in creating unique lessons that enhance the experience of everyone. When given the right tools, support and optimal numbers of students the results are often magical. Education is seen at its best. Sadly such supports exist in very few schools.

Those who make decisions regarding our schools spend millions and millions of dollars each year and often miss the mark. They waste precious resources on trends that make promises that are unlikely to be fulfilled. They purchase tools that will quickly be broken and outdated without providing the desired results. They train and retrain teachers in methods that supposedly work for all but which fall far short of classroom realities. Perhaps if they were instead to give teachers the gifts of time and space they might find that everyone is more productive and able to reach desired goals.  

Just Breathe

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

764562-Kid-1411175258-363-640x480My fourth grade school year was traumatic in more ways than one. My father had died the summer before and our family was in a state of grief and uncertainty. We had returned to a familiar neighborhood after Daddy was killed in the hope that being back among good friends would help us to heal. Our home was a shell of the one that we had inhabited with my father. Without his engineering income we had to downsize considerably but ours was a sound house and the neighbors were warm and welcoming. I reenrolled in Mt. Carmel Elementary School and was looking forward to being united with the classmates that I had known before we moved in my third grade year. It was comforting to be back in a place that had heretofore been quite happy for me. When I learned on the first day of school that I was in Sister B’s class I had little idea that my emotional rollercoaster would become even more torturous.

Sister B was one of those old school Catholic nuns about whom legends and comedy routines abound. She thought of verbal and physical punishments as ways to build lasting character in young boys and girls. Those of us subjected to her classroom management style thought differently. It took no more than a few weeks in her presence for me to become utterly terrified, so much so that I was afraid to even speak of my fears to my mother. That environment was totally the wrong place to be for someone already scarred by the death of a parent. It was so hellish in my mind that I somehow began to believe that I had unconsciously and unknowingly done something terrible for which I was being punished. Why else would I have to endure a year with this tyrant, I wondered? I adapted each day by telling myself to just breathe.

I was actually one of the students that Sister B most cherished. For a very long time I was not the object of her wrath. She loved me so much that she became good friends with my mother. She often gave me letters of encouragement and special religious gifts. I should have returned her affection but I have always been a social justice warrior and I witnessed her unkindnesses to my fellow students more often than not. I don’t know if she just didn’t realize the impact of her humiliations but I did. With no place to turn, I seethed inside each time one of my classmates was harmed. I found solace in escaping to a place in my mind where all I had to do was just breathe.

Sister B once created a bulletin board that featured rockets advancing to the moon. On the side of each rocket she had written the name of a student and the grade that the individual had made on a test. Mine was proudly standing on the lunar surface with a one hundred indicating my success. Down at the very bottom were the spacecraft of less fortunate souls whose names were on display as failures with their rockets lying broken in half. Even as a nine year old I knew that it was utterly wrong to bring such negative attention to those who had not done so well with their academics. I felt embarrassed that I had to sit near the bulletin board filled with so much venom and hurtfulness.

I listened to the verbal taunts of my teacher until even I felt broken. I lived in fear that I might one day invoke her ire and become the focus of her anger. I hardly slept at night and thought myself terrible for thinking badly of a religious person. I was torn between hating her and wanting to forgive her. Since there were no counselors back in those days I suffered in silence often reminding myself to just breathe whenever the atmosphere became unbearable. Eventually things turned dark even for me, one of her pets.

We were in the middle of music class one afternoon when my bladder told me that it needed to be emptied quickly. I hated to interrupt Sister when she was so engrossed in a lesson but I felt that I had no choice. I raised my hand and calmly asked to be excused but my request was instantly denied. I crossed my legs and hoped for the best but as the minutes ticked by the pain that I felt became almost unbearable. I repeated my request several more times, being refused over and over again even as I began to wiggle in my seat to keep from having an accident. I was on the verge of tears and getting dirtier and dirtier looks from the teacher as I realized that I was not going to be able to hold back for much longer. I made one final attempt to be released to take care of the problem only to receive the same negative response. I was doomed and I felt my bladder slowly but surely ease the pressure as a puddle formed on the seat of my desk. At that moment I was in agony. I wanted to disappear so that I would not have to endure the fate that I knew was coming. I sat rigid hoping against all reasonable hope that nobody would notice what I had done. Of course that was not the way things were going to work.

Soon enough Sister was standing over me demanding to know what had happened. She ordered me into the hallway where she berated me for being absurd enough to wet my pants rather than race out of the room to the bathroom like any rational person would have done. I had no answers for her. I had learned long ago that she never accepted the excuses that any of us gave for our unwanted behaviors. I just stood silently wishing that I might run away and never have to face her or my classmates ever again and urging myself to just breathe lest I let my own tirade escape from my lips. She sent me to the office where I waited for my mother to come with clean clothing and a ride home. I was never able to fully explain to my mom why the incident had occurred. Sister B had already muddied the waters with her own defense and since my mother only knew her as a saintly woman I made no effort to disagree.

When I returned to school the following day my classmates pretended not to have noticed what had happened. I suppose that they all felt as I did that we had to weather the storm of our teacher’s angry behaviors together. Somehow we were bound by the realization that the way she was treating us was very wrong but there was little that we might do other than accept our fate and just breathe. I suspect that I first learned how to be a good teacher in that classroom. I remembered what not to do to students from those days. For that I am thankful to Sister B but I would have preferred not ever knowing her at all.

For a very long time I felt terribly guilty for disliking my teacher, especially since she was a nun, that is until I learned that my brother also found her behavior to be abusive and untenable. When he confessed to me it was like having a heavy weight lifted from my mind. I no longer had to just breathe when I thought of that terrible woman.

My mother corresponded with Sister B until she died, convinced that my old teacher had been a master educator and a saint. It was not until I was almost fifty years old that I shocked my mom with revelations that she found to be painful and difficult to believe. I kept my negative comments mostly to myself. I didn’t want to destroy the icon that my mother thought Sister had been.

I suppose that I developed lovely cursive handwriting under Sister B’s watchful and critical eye. I even mastered the lessons of the fourth grade curriculum with her guidance. More importantly, however, I understood the need to treat children with dignity and respect. I didn’t suffer permanent damage from that school year but I don’t believe that any of us needed to endure the shabby treatment that was inflicted on us. We were resilient but it seems that we never forgot what we had seen. Now I can laugh a bit at the memories of those days but I suppose that I always knew that what we endured was wrong. Thank God I survived by being able to just breathe. 

It’s About Time

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Glenda Jones13516264_10209578242793605_5124992074342233422_nBack in the eighties my eldest daughter, Maryellen, was a member of the Janette Dance team at South Houston High School. She had taken ballet and tap lessons from the time that she was five years old, first at a church in Pasadena and later from Patty Owens near our home in southeast Houston. Our family budget often tended to be stressed beyond our means but we somehow managed to find the funds for the classes that she loved so very much. Over time it became apparent that she had a natural talent for dance, most likely inherited from my mother who had her own reputation for being light on her feet and as graceful as a swan. When Maryellen earned a coveted spot on her school’s dance team it seemed to be a reward for all of her hard work and determination. Our family time began to revolve around practices, performances at football games, cotillions, competitions, camps and shows.

I was a fairly young mom, only in my late thirties, when I joined forces with other mothers in providing costumes, decorations, food and other kinds of support for our beautiful young girls. We were all caught up in the joys of our children’s teenage years. We ladies often met to build sets or design programs. We became expert seamstresses who made intricate pieces of clothing. I still recall almost tearing my hair out while sewing the game day suit that Maryellen had to wear on Fridays during football season. It was a complex project but well worth the effort in the end. I recall volunteering to work long hours in those days and at those times I got to know the other moms who were as lovingly devoted to their children as I was to mine. There were dance competitions that demanded whole days of our time and summer camps that required long drives and funds that we might have used otherwise. We sometimes joined in the fun by performing in hilarious dance routines that made us the laughing stock of the audience but also demonstrated just what good sports we were. Those were some of the best times of my entire life and the memories of those days remain precious even today.

Maryellen advanced through the ranks of the team to become one of the military officers, a Lieutenant. She worked hard to meet all of the requirements of the honor, including choreographing original dances and designing costumes and props. Because she so loved the experience, so did I. Those were the wonder years in which her confidence and abilities grew under the watchful eye of her always committed instructor, Glenda Jones Bludworth, a loving woman who taught her dancers how to present themselves with grace in any situation. She was more than just a teacher. She became a friend, mentor and counselor to each of her students. Because we parents witnessed her devotion to our children, we loved her as much as our girls did.

As is usually the case with good times, they flew by all too quickly. Soon Maryellen was attending the University of Texas and focusing on more serious academic goals. She had little time for dancing as she studied constantly to earn the grades that would allow her to be accepted into the McCombs School of Business. The days of visiting Southern Imports in search of fabrics, feathers and sequins were gone. The worn section of carpet in our den where Maryellen had practiced all of her dance routines was the only reminder of those lovely days. I lost track of the women with whom I had spent so many hours. Time raced by and I too turned my attention to new challenges and adventures, forgetting for a moment the joys of being a dance mom.

It has been almost thirty years since Maryellen donned her leotards and dancing shoes. In the interim she earned degrees in Finance and Accounting, worked, married and became mom to four boys who find the stories of her days on the stage to be strangely confusing. Now she is the one who spends almost every free moment supporting her sons’ hobbies and talents. She is the one who now juggles the family budget to find all of the funding for equipment, camps, classes, trips and college so that her boys will be able to enjoy their youth as much as she did hers. Like I once did, she has a circle of friends whose commonality is based on swimming, scouts, theater and school activities. She keeps books for the teams and creates end of season slideshows. Her world is hectic but wonderful. She rarely thinks back to those days when she was an extraordinary dancer who riveted the attention of her many admirers. The memories seem to be both long ago and just like yesterday.

A group of Janette Dancers recently decided to host a kind of reunion of the classes who had been members of the team under the direction of their beloved Glenda Jones Bludworth. The “girls” are now in their forties and some are even knocking on the door of the fifties. Like Maryellen they have children in college, high school and middle school. They have enjoyed marriages and careers and evolved to a time in their lives when they more closely resemble their mothers and me were back in the day. They are beautiful women who learned their teacher’s lessons well and carry themselves with the poise and self respect that she instilled in them.

Happily they did not fail to remember their mothers in planning this event. We were invited to celebrate the life of Glenda Jones Bludworth along with them. I enjoyed sitting at a table with ladies who had been my constant companions so many years before. We bragged on the successes of our daughters and exchanged photos of our grandchildren. We recalled our own sacrifices of money and time and how we would not have changed a thing. We laughed at some of the silly things that we did and grew saddened as we remembered ladies who had been part of our mother brigade who are no longer alive. Mostly we each had remarkable stories of the wonderful influence that Glenda had on our children. We all agreed that she was one of those once in a lifetime educators who goes well beyond the requirements of her job. She reached into the very hearts and souls of her girls and helped them to find the strengths and talents that defined them as unique and outstanding individuals.

It was grand to once again be reminded of a time in life that was so happy for all of us. I found myself amazed that our time together had been so long ago and yet seemed so near and dear. I was particularly happy that all of the delightful young women whom I had watched grow in wisdom and age and grace had remembered and appreciated their amazing teacher. She had so truly earned the attention and praise that they heaped on her. All too often we become so busy with the demands of daily existence that we forget to show our gratitude to the people who did so much to make us who we are. We let the clock tick and tick until it is too late and our hearts are filled with regret that we never took the opportunity to voice the thanks that we always meant to convey. Somehow Glenda’s Girls understood that they needed to stop the passage of time for a few hours so that they might demonstrate how truly important their moment with her had been. It’s about time!

Things That Make Me Smile

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

smiley-face-symbols-detlev-van-ravenswaayI’ve got a goofy smile. One eye squints almost shut and my mouth is crooked. I resemble a gnome when I’m happy but but I still love any occasion that turns up the corners of my mouth. This month I’ve had a number of such times and all of them have involved people. The truth is that no amount of money nor fame is better than knowing that there are people who really care about me and that I in turn love. I’ve been lucky enough to see many of them of late and all of them make me beam with unadulterated joy.

I try to get together with a group of friends from my last job as often as possible. Most of them are still working so it’s not easy to find a date when we are all free but luckily we did so not long ago. We met up at Ninfa’s on Navigation which, on a side note, I highly recommend. As is always the case we laughed and chattered and felt so very relaxed with one another. A plus was the fact that the food was also great. Someone remarked that most of us were English majors in college. I don’t know if that has anything to do with how well we get along but it’s amazing how in sync we always seem to be. We’ve agreed to meet again before school starts so that we might compare stories about the trips that each of us will be taking during these warm months. I have no doubt that we will once again talk and grin until we get dirty looks from the waiters hoping that we get the hint and move on.

A certain graduation brought a huge smile to my face recently. It was for a young man whom I had tutored for three years. He had worked quite hard to earn his diploma and I knew as well as anyone how much the occasion meant to him. I felt as though I was floating through the air when he walked across the stage. It was as grand a day as I have experienced in a long time. My face must have shown my elation as the corners of my mouth almost touched my ears.

My grandson is home from college for the summer. I only got to see him a couple of times during the school year. He attends Purdue University and has a schedule as busy as the President of the United States. It was so good to finally meet up with him at Bob’s Taco Station if only for an hour or so. I marveled at how much he has matured in only one short year. He is definitely a man now. Not a shred of boyishness seems to remain in his demeanor. A smile of pride and of course lots of love lit up my face the whole time that we were together.

I had the privilege of serving as a chaperone for my godson and his brother while their mother attended a conference a couple of weeks ago. We all flew together to Boston and while she worked, we played. Boy was it fun! I suspect that I was even smiling in my sleep. We saw so many wondrous things but best of all we got to know each other even better. It was a very special time in which we laughed and told silly stories and just felt as comfortable as can be. I can’t wait until I am needed for another trip one day. We built some important memories together which will no doubt always bring brightness to my face whenever I recall them.

My second oldest grandson is going to be a senior in high school next year. He is in the process of visiting colleges and so Mike and I took him to Texas A&M University a week ago. We had a grand time touring the recreation center, the dorms and many of the engineering buildings. I have a particular love for the Aggies because my father was one. Every time I visit the campus I feel his spirit. I know that he will be quite proud if his great grandson decides to get his education there. I smiled quite a bit at the thought of having another Aggie in the family, especially the one who just happens to be named after my dad. When my grandson admitted that he would be quite excited to go there I suspect that my grin was so big that I resembled a Cheshire cat. It was fun to be able to share this important moment with him.

Last Saturday I invited several of my former students to a party at my house. I wanted to celebrate their graduations from college. It was rewarding to hear how wonderfully they are all doing. I want to believe that I may have had at least a tiny bit of influence on them. I know that they bring me incalculable happiness. Knowing that they have already accomplished so much makes my teaching years seem all the more fruitful. I smiled and smiled and smiled as they spoke of their successes and their dreams. I hope that my expression told them how much I love them.

On Father’s Day I made dinner for Mike and his dad. We had an incredible time just as we always do. They are the two most important men in my life. Both of them watch over me and would probably walk through fire for me. Just being with them is reason enough to smile. We have a long history of sharing happiness and sorrow. I burst into a visage of elation when I think of how lucky I have been to be with the two of them. They make me feel so beautiful and important that I fairly beam.

I just spent the past week in a trailer built for two with my daughter and her three children. Stuffing the six of us inside reminded me of a circus act when dozens of clowns go inside a tiny car. For a time the refrigerator didn’t work and all of us were almost eaten alive by chiggers but somehow we muddled through. Nothing could have kept me from beaming from ear to ear. Just being together was all that I needed to feel elated. We went to see movies on a workday afternoon and ate delicious hamburgers and fries from Hopdoddy. We walked through museums filled with scientific wonders and history. In the evenings I watched the children swim at McKInney Falls. They were so delighted as they jumped into the cooling waters. Our time together was a blast and we hardly noticed that we were stuffed inside our home on wheels like sardines.

While we were camping in Austin one of my cousins invited us to visit with her and her family. They treated us to a gourmet dinner that included a taste test of seven different yummy desserts. The kids had great fun playing with Legos and making music while we adults enjoyed sharing stories about our ancestors. There were happy faces all around.

These are the things that make me smile. Right now I’m feeling quite content as I gaze on the flowers in my yard and watch the birds playing in the trees. It’s summertime and the whole world is seems to be alive. Best of all my adventures have only just begun. We’ll be celebrating my mother’s birthday on Monday and in about a week we will head for California. There are so many reasons to be elated that I suspect I am wearing a smile even now.

Mighty Men Too

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

I spent the last years of my career in the KIPP Charter system. I had heard about the work of two young men who had created a different kind of school based on high expectations and the simple but direct imperative, “Work hard. Be nice.” I saw working at one of the KIPP campuses as an opportunity to be adventurous before I retired. I wasn’t going to start my own school but I wanted to see what it was like to educate kids in a dynamic environment where first generation high school graduates were groomed from a young age to attend and complete college.

It was an exciting and often exhausting five years. As a teacher I had always given more of my time and talents than required and I felt ready to tackle the long work days of KIPP Houston High School. Somehow I had been a natural in my profession and I had few worries about meeting my responsibilities in a highly charged atmosphere. I was already that teacher who spent three or four hours each evening poring over student work and planning exciting lessons. I was ahead of my time in building personal relationships and keeping students and parents informed. I thought that being a member of the KIPP world would be a piece of cake for someone like me. I learned soon enough that it would be perhaps the most challenging, but also rewarding, five years of my life.

KIPP charter schools set the bar high for teachers, parents and students. The hours were long and the standards were demanding. It took some time to become accustomed to rising before the sun and arriving back home long after dark but it was the KIPP way of life and I had to adapt. There was a sense of urgency for everyone within the system, unspoken rules that each of us were capable of giving just a little more of our time and talents. There was no rest, not even in the summer. We were part of a grand crusade to change the trajectory of the lives of the young men and women who had promised to do whatever it took to get to and through college. We had to teach them the skills, knowledge and habits that they would need and they had to meet our never ending challenges. In the end what we accomplished appears to have worked rather well.

I have been attempting to showcase the talents of the students who were part of my KIPP family during my five year tenure. If I were to adequately mention every single person, it would take weeks. The success rate of KIPP Houston High School is astounding. So many of our kids have rewarded our own efforts with their incredible determination to overcome the odds that were often stacked against them. In talking with them I have noticed that there is a common denominator that defines their success. They mention again and again that they felt a kind of pressure to complete their educations because it was expected by the school, the teachers, their parents and their peers. They learned from their KIPP experience that dreams were more likely to come true if they put in effort day by day by day, just like climbing a mountain. Last weekend more incredible young KIPP men and women graduated from college and with the taste of success freshly rewarding them, they all realize that their journeys are still incomplete. 

Isaac Rivera was one of my Algebra I students. When he was in my class he often took advantage of my after school tutoring sessions, a fact that alerted me to his willingness to put forth extra effort when needed. He has always been an affable young man with a grin that spreads across his face without warning. He loves people and laughs with a twinkle in his eyes. He’s the kind of person who embraces the world full force, wanting to know as much about it as possible. Isaac enjoys having long conversations and learning about people, a trait that is endearing because it is always apparent that he is truly interested. In other words, Isaac is someone who is quite charming and easy to like.

Isaac took a bit longer to complete his college degree than he would have wanted but he understood that it was not a race. Besides, he was dealing with health issues as well as attempting to help his family. He worked hard and always believed that he would finish what he had started. This past Saturday I watched him as he proudly received a degree in Finance with a minor in Economics from the University of St. Thomas. It was fitting that the guest speaker, Governor Greg Abbott, spoke of the importance of being flexible in life and holding fast to dreams because that is something that Isaac has most certainly done. He now plans to begin a career of his own while helping his family to grow their business. Eventually he hopes to work toward an MBA as well as a PhD so that he might one day become a college professor. Given his track record so far, I have little doubt that he will achieve each of his goals.

Jesse Ortega was a member of KIPP Houston High School Class of 2012. He possesses a kind of charisma that has always made him a standout. He is a brilliant young man who received a scholarship to attend the University of Texas in Austin, an accomplishment that made him one of the elite students in the state. With an eye toward one day becoming a medical doctor, Jesse majored in Nutritional Science. He also graduated this past Saturday. He performed so well in his classes at the University of Texas that he was recently accepted to the Southwestern Medical School in Dallas where he will fulfill a dream that he has harbored for a very long time.

Jesse has a beautiful family that has stood behind him every step of the way. Like Isaac he experienced some health problems that might have detoured his journey were it not for the intense devotion of his parents and his sister, Guadelupe, who is perhaps his biggest fan and supporter. Together they have overcome one roadblock after another and there is every reason to believe that they will continue to help Jesse to realize his ultimate dream. Jesse knows what he wants and how to get it. He is unafraid to expend as much effort as needed. He will be a great doctor.

I am proud and honored to know these outstanding young men who are but two of the remarkable success stories coming from the KIPP world. Others who also took to heart the lessons that we worked so hard to convey are Christopher Jordan, graduate of Texas Tech, Taaha Akhtar, graduate of Georgetown University, Erik Guerrero, graduate of Lamar University, and Nathan Thai, graduate of the University of Texas in Austin. I am truly overwhelmed to know that I along with my colleagues played a teeny tiny part in helping these men to dramatically shape the direction of their lives.

I applaud those who continue the tireless work in schools across the country that serve to create a better future for our society. I thank the parents for the sacrifices that they have made as well. Mostly though I have to give credit to the young men and women who did the heavy lifting. They deserve all the praise. It has been great to watch them enter the adult world with determination and optimism. They continually show me that the world is progressing just as it should.