I heard a story this morning: a student was talking with a teacher and was repeating a conversation from home. The student used the term "invisible lines" in the context of Harriet Bishop when explaining the conversation. That term, invisible lines, intrigued me. What did he or she or the family mean? Was it about clustering within the classroom, which is the backbone of Harriet Bishop's philosophy of serving all its students at their instructional level? Was it in reference to schoolwide math, which we implemented, again, to serve students at their instructional level...so that they would LEARN? Was it about the hot topic of boundary changes? Was it about magnet students vs. attendance area students? (Shouldn't it be, then, magnet students vs. variance/open enrollment students vs. attendance area students? No one should be left out of the equation.) What does invisible lines mean?
There's a book that I think every child should read. (Okay, I think there are a LOT of books that every child should read. Bear with me.) Ironically (or coincidentally - glass half full) it is titled Invisible Lines, by Mary Amato. It was just recently published. It's the story of Trevor, a middle school-aged boy who has just moved into a new apartment with his single mom and siblings. It's subsidized housing, and it's not a very nice place. I'm sure his mother would not have chosen this place if she could have afforded another one. And she is trying - she works two jobs to make ends meet, which is why Trevor spends a lot of time babysitting his younger siblings. The one thing this apartment does afford the family, however, is the chance for Trevor to attend a relatively affluent school. (Integration - crossing an invisible line?) He gets there and finds himself in a gifted science class in a G/T program at the school. He is terribly worried that he won't be able to do the work, but because his teacher is trained well and thinks outside the box (he's quite a character), Trevor finds himself learning a LOT and actually enjoying the learning, and it's getting easier. (Would he have crossed an invisible line at that point? I think so.) There's a lot going on in this story, and it brings up subjects that some of us would rather not face - things like abandonment, socio-economic cruelty, violence. Trevor has a lot of talents - hidden talents that are being brought out in the classroom, and his very apparent talent of soccer. He's a good soccer player - but that brings up even more challenges, including how to pay for the equipment he needs if he is chosen to be on the "elite" soccer team. The story brings up one child's efforts to meet the challenges of an accelerated program, a program that child had never had the chance to be in before. It deftly illustrates the tension between rich vs. housing projects.
Really, truly, all "invisible lines", if you think about it.
I live in South Minneapolis, and I am going through the process of figuring out where my son will begin kindergarten. Minneapolis, for the first time, has been broken down into "zones". Within the zone, a family has a choice of their neighborhood school and two magnet schools. You make your choices, and then are put in a lottery.
So my husband and I toured the schools. The first school I walked into was what many would think is in a relatively "sketchy" part of town, to overuse a euphemism. (All my son cared about, however, was that the school was across the street from a Dairy Queen. Doesn't that say a lot about the open minds and eyes of children?) Anyway, I walked into the school building. It was 98 years old. Old hallways, but beautifully open. Old floors, but sound great when you walk on them. Old woodwork, but solid walnut. Old windows, but with lattice panes. I have NEVER, and I do mean NEVER, walked into a more welcoming building. Instead of American flags lining the hallways, flags from all over the world were there (now there's a great teachable moment...). Students of every shape, size, color, personality in the classrooms. This was a neighborhood school that was beginning its journey to become a magnet (just as Harriet Bishop went through last year). Teachers were embracing the journey - and it was going to be HARD work, because this school is becoming an IB Primary Years Programme School, so they have their work cut out for them. My son, my beautiful, blond, blue-eyed boy, would be a minority in that school.
And I loved every part of it. The attitude of the staff and the principal permeated the air - that attitude of "we embrace all learners and expect excellence from all." That attitude of "every part of a person matters - from their skin color to their motivation to their history to their home life to their enthusiasm." It all matters. That's what I walked away from after touring that school. It's a Title school. Free- and reduced-lunch students abound. And those students, like Trevor, will get the chance to unlock hidden talents, while developing those that are apparent.
It's time to make those lines visible, so we can deliberately and enthusiastically cross them.
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