How to raise student achievement by speaking up

When I testified at the Oakland Board of Education meeting last November, I was nervous. For over two months, there had been no instructional assistant in my first-grade Special Day Class. Just me, and 15 students.

I had been in contact with Programs for Exceptional Children (PEC) regularly. Parents in my class became increasingly concerned. In the classroom, I worked overtime to complete instructional and administrative duties. My school site worked hard to compensate. For most of the Fall, we relied on the best practices of scholars and specialists to continue raising student achievement.

Now, at the board meeting, I was joining with parents, nurses and special educators in similar predicaments. We were each there to announce that despite herculean efforts, our students would still achieve more if they were receiving their legally-mandated services than with just us alone.

For me, it was hard to admit. I like to believe I can do it all. But enough was enough. My students needed an Instructional Assistant.

The last time I testified at a public meeting was over ten years ago. As a student in District of Columbia Public Schools (DCPS), I asked then Mayor Marion Barry to provide us with textbooks. And permanent teachers. And potable water. I had lived and travelled abroad and I knew that some conditions in DCPS (like some in OUSD) resembled those of countries with access to few financial resources. A self-important teenager, I didn’t notice who else was there. I just knew what private schools across the land already know: students need materials and services to learn.

Flash forward to Oakland. This time, I was a school employee. The new State Administrator and the Executive Director of Special Education were present. I saw board members and press. As an intern, I felt vulnerable. Would there be repercusions for speaking publicly? Would my competence be questioned? Would speaking out turn the bureaucracy against me, and affect my ability to raise student achievement?

As I stood in line pondering these questions, I began to think about what my students were missing. Mario blossoms with sustained individual attention. Adil performs above grade level. In a small group, Huong sits and listens with an adult seated by him on the rug. These are students designated as having special needs. According to academic research and the law, they need more than an overachieving teacher to achieve high expectations. They need services.

In short, I stopped thinking about district politics and myself. I started thinking about my students. I imagined workshop time, center activities and 1:1 opportunities. I imagined one adult calming excitable students while I continued instruction uninterupted. I imagined recess working with small groups while the assistant helped with paperwork. I imagined eating lunch.

Just before I reached the microphone, I remembered the phrase coined by teacher and activist Audre Lorde: “Your silence will not protect you.” I realized my silence could never protect my students — only hurt their academic achievement.

Whether our students need clean rooms, a caring adult, heat, appropriate curriculum, computers, a custodian, an Instructional Assistant, speech therapy, psychological services or other educational scaffolds guaranteed by IDEA and the Williams suit, teachers must be responsible for reaching beyond our classrooms to get those things.

After my turn to speak, Phyllis Harris, the Executive Director of Programs for Exceptional Children, approached me. She said she had no idea we didn’t have an Instructional Assistant. She said PEC wants to hear about it when our students need something.

The next week, both vacant positions at my school were filled by qualified assistants. I heard from others who spoke that Instructional Assistants had come to their classrooms too. Coincidence or consequence? I’ll never know. But I believe there are reprecussions to speaking out. Really excellent ones. And my students are now reaping the benefits.