Free The Prize by Dale Russakoff

teachers who they believed could become good with the right support, and good ones who could become exceptional. It was a mantra of the reform movement that children and their genius were trapped in failing schools, but the BRICK leaders found gifted teachers were trapped there as well. Since few Newark principals spent time observing teachers and supporting their growth, teachers throughout the district had languished for years with unrealized potential. Avon, for example, already had a star-quality third-grade team in Sharon Rappaport, Teresa Olivieria, and Regina Sherrod, who coaxed impressive gains from their students, only to see them lose ground in later years with less effective teachers. Because so few teachers had received meaningful support from principals, Lee and Haygood looked not for preexisting powerhouses but for teachers who knew their subjects, had strong relationships with students, and were willing to work on their practice with a goal of becoming more effective.
    The BRICK leaders divided administrative responsibilities so Haygood could devote the bulk of her time to observing teachers and helping them improve. Dressed in the BRICK uniform of yellow shirt and navy pants, her dark hair bound in a curly ponytail, she radiated kindness, even when delivering harsh assessments. “Charity can tell you essentially, ‘You suck,’ and you walk out with a smile on your face,” said Lee.
    Rappaport said she and some other veterans resented the new leaders at first: “They came in saying we were going to work longer days, longer weeks, longer years, and I said, ‘Who let them in here? This is
our
building.’” But she said she changed her mind because of one of the newcomers, Chris Perpich, who at half her age was her instructional coach and assistant principal. With modest suggestions, one at a time, she said, he made her a stronger teacher.
    The new leaders also required all teachers to develop a “ BRICK plan” for each student, an individualized improvement program with specific responsibilities for families as well as teachers. Federal law mandated such plans for students with disabilities, but the BRICK leaders felt all parents should know how their children performed in comparison to national standards in reading, writing, and math, and how to help each of them meet the bar. After so many years of failure as the norm, they said, parents often didn’t know what to expect of children. The BRICK plan listed up to three tasks for families to perform with students every night, and three kinds of academic support activities that teachers would carry out with them every day.
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    One of the cruel ironies of Newark’s schools was that throughout their long decline, the district often appeared on paper to be in perfect compliance with all requirements. A 2009 outside review of the Avon Avenue School found that the curriculum aligned well with state standards in math and literacy. And the district had a written policy requiring principals to observe teachers regularly, supplying feedback and coaching to ensure they were reaching all children.
    But inside Avon, as in many schools across the district, reality borelittle resemblance to the script. An application for federal aid, filed shortly after the outside review, reported that too many teachers displayed “an inability to captivate student interest and motivate them.” And there was “minimal use of higher order questioning.”The quality of the curriculum had little relevance without effective instruction. Numerous students recalled that in earlier years, while they sat in class trying to learn, other children routinely ran, yelled, or fought in the halls. Principals and teachers appeared powerless to stop them. Avon was mentioned in the police blotter almost as often as in the
Star- Ledger
’s education coverage. In 1996, an Avon kindergarten teacher was indicted on charges of official misconduct