The Final Chapter

I was told when I started out that my vision of reaching students through public speaking was impossible. No one, I was told, will allow you to take class time to talk about generalities like careers, goal-setting, self-image. But what has become apparent to me is that if I can bring value for the student into the classroom, teachers who truly care not just about academic performance but about the whole person will gladly share their class time. Teachers who understand that academic performance is founded on self-respect and a sense of personal motivation welcome this opportunity, because I reinforce for the student the values that great teachers teach every day. In the long run, I don't take time away from the teacher or the class—I help make the students better partners in their own education. Teachers say to me all the time that their kids are more manageable, more willing to listen, more polite, more respectful, when you give them a sense of their own personal value.

Throughout this book, you've been hearing about remarkable teachers I've met while doing exactly that. In this brief final chapter, I am going to spend some time talking about just a few more: a handful of special people who stand out in my mind as the most committed and most effective leaders in our schools over the years. These are people who have demonstrated in numerous ways that they will do whatever it takes to enable their students to do the very best they can do, in whatever mode of life they choose. These teachers don't distinguish between "good" students and "bad" students, between college prep students and business track students—they don't see stereotypes. Instead they look at each individual to find the best that exists within his or her being.

These aren't just great teachers, they are great leaders. As principals or assistant principals or headmasters, they set the tone for the teachers who work with them. They make it clear that they demand the best from teachers as from students, and they inspire everyone around them to achieve that goal. And they do this in situations that others have pronounced hopeless—in the biggest, toughest, most "troubled" school systems in New England. Time and time again, I have been warned away from visiting schools like these, by people who fear that in an assembly with hundreds of kids from lower-income areas, discipline would get out of hand. And time and time again, I have seen the true leadership and character of the principals of these schools, as they create an atmosphere of respect and high expectations, where students feel good enough about themselves that they don't need to act out or draw attention to themselves. They have pride in themselves and in their school, because they see their principal has pride in them. I have never had a problem in these schools.

The handful of people in this last chapter have my highest respect and affection. I've been honored to know them, and I hope through their example I can show you what the Teacher's Teacher really is.

Mary-Ann and Larry Mathews

Mary-Ann Mathews is one of the first people I met who demonstrated again and again that for her, the student always comes first. In 1978 the busing crisis in Boston was at its peak, beyond what words can describe: not only in South Boston but at many other Boston area schools, Charlestown in particular. Townies did not want their sovereign turf invaded by blacks, end of story. Hers is a school of great sports tradition, predominantly Irish, and when I met Mary-Ann she said, "Mark, if you can't complement my students, if you can't help them to be the best they can be, I'll personally see to it that you never work in this school again." She was a tough little Irish girl. In those days, besides assemblies, I was doing one-period programs class by class through the English department. During one of these presentations, I heard noise outside the room. I walked to the door, looked out into the corridor, and saw an incredible scene. There were people fighting in every square inch of the hall, on every floor: the school had erupted into violent confrontation between the various groups.

I knew that Mary-Ann cared about students, but what happened at that moment blew me away. She had been knocked down onto the floor in the melee. I stopped the lecture and rushed out, picked her up and urged her to get out of there. I'm a tough guy, but I wanted to escape. There were police surrounding the building, and no one could get in or out. Things were looking pretty bad. But she said to me, "No, Mark, they're good kids. You don't understand—you've got to help them." And she and the other teachers went out in the hallways, calming down the students, restoring order. I was thinking to myself, no one is going to even believe this. Ten minutes later, the kids were back in the classroom, I was back in the lecture. When the period was over, I saw Mary-Ann and told her it was unbelievable. She said to me, "No, but what it takes is a commitment to making a difference. We've got some great teachers here who really care about kids." It was characteristic of her to give the credit to the other teachers, but in fact if she hadn't cared so much and set the example by her leadership, the situation would have been much worse. One of her great qualities is that she doesn't see herself for the hero she is.

A couple of years later I met her husband, Larry Mathews, who teaches in the same building and also coaches basketball. I saw him shaking hands with all the students coming into his class. When I asked him about it, his response was "Mark, it only takes a fraction of s second to let every one of my students know that I know they're in class, that I care they're in class, and that I want them to succeed." Mary-Ann told me the same thing. She learned early on that if students believe you care—if they know you want them to succeed— their attention will improve and their attendance will improve. In that school, as with many inner city schools, absenteeism is a huge problem. Larry and Mary-Ann had a higher percentage of students coming to class simply because the students knew that these teachers truly cared about them. And that was the first step.

More stories about Larry and Mary-Ann appear in the Pulitzer Prize-winning book Common Ground: The Definitive Story of Boston Busing, which was also made into a movie. Larry and Mary-Ann are portrayed by actors. I remember laughing at one point with Larry because there was a question as to whether he would be played by Paul Newman or Robert Redford—in the end, it turned out to be a relatively unknown actor who did an excellent job portraying what the Teachers's Teacher is all about. Twenty-eight years later I'm still working with Larry and Mary-Ann, and they are as dedicated as ever.

Verna Lauria

I met Verna in the mid-1980s when she was working as an Assistant Principal for Guidance in New York City, at the William E. Grady Technical School in Brooklyn. It was immediately apparent that for her, the students came first. On this particular day I had had a great session in the auditorium with the kids. It was late in the day and I had offered to take her to lunch as a token of thanks and to share some personal thoughts away form the business of the school. We were just walking out of the building when a secretary said "Miss Lauria, one of your students' parents is here to see you." No appointment, no forewarning. We looked at each other and smiled; I knew right away that there was no question what she would do. I got to work on the phone as usual, while Verna got into a conversation, a difficult one: the student's mother had travelled by subway all the way from the Bronx through Manhattan into Queens, across Brooklyn, not knowing that you can't just show up and expect to see the head of Guidance without any advance warning. She also barely spoke English, but it was apparent to Verna that this wonan is desperatly trying to keep her daughter in school. Her feelings were no different from a mother or father in Greenwich or Grosse Pointe, and Verna didn't treat her differently. This mother made it clear that she was willing to do whatever it took to keep her daugher in school, but she was looking for help from the school, and in particular from Verna as head of guidance.

An hour and a half later, we left the building, heading for now a very late lunch. I asked Verna whether this happened often. "Yes," she replied, but then added, "Mark, I work with kids who have great, massive needs, and often there is very little support from families, In this case, I had to spend the time with this mother, whether or not she had an appointment: she got to me. Just looking in her eyes it was apparent that she truly was reaching out for someone to help her to help her daughter." And that's the way Verna works, every day; there was no way she would walk away from an opportunity to help.

Les Correia

I met Les Correia as an assistant principal at Hartford High. I had been told to stay out of the school by other school districts in the area, simply because it was such a tough school. When I called him up, the first hing he said to me was "What have you got for my students?" He didn't ask my name, he wasn't concerned with the color of my skin or my ethnic background—just with how I could help his students. I explained what I do, reinforcing values and teaching self-respect. He said immediately, "You're not going to work with my seniors— before we even think of seniors, I want you to hit my freshman with attitude, respect, responsibility. We'll do it as a test: they're the most difficult group." Now, in general I tend to avoid working with freshmen because of the maturity level, and because of the expectations people bring to the situation. After all, we're talking about 500 ninth graders in the auditorium for something like 2 hours. I've learned again and again that I'm only as good with my audience as the people who bring me in allow me to be. I had also heard some nasty things about this school. But when we started the session, I watched Les's presence, and I heard his proclamation to the students: "We are Hartford High, we're as good as any school in America. I expect you to act like mature, respectful human beings. Don't one of you even think of embarrassing me by acting like a fool." For the next 90 minutes I didn't have to stop once. The respect Les had earned from his students was transferred to me. He's the Teacher's Teacher. The kids knew he cared.

Ev Waylans and John Getz

I first met John Getz and Ev Waylans in the 1980s, when John was at Platt High School in Meriden, Connecticut, and Ev was teaching at Danbury High School, Connecticut's largest high school. Ev is now the Assistant Principal at Danbury, and John is the Principal, but at the time I was dealing with a different administrator. I had been trying to get an opportunity to do a session at the school for a long time, and had been told that the school was simply too big: they couldn't control a group the size we'd need to have. However, when John came in as the new Principal, and when Ev took the time to investigate the kind of presentation I do, they accepted my proposal to work with their seniors.

The result was an absolutely fabulous session. The very next year, after some great discussion with John and Ev, we decided for the first time ever in school history to try a ninth-grade assembly. John introduced Ev, and set the tone by telling the students that he had great expectations of their ability to act like mature adults, and of their future potential for success. Ev then introduced me, telling the students emphatically how much the administrators, faculty, and staff at DHS cared about them, both in the mass and individually. He said that day, "We want every one of you to succeed. We're doing something we don't normally do, that many schools never do. We're doing it because we believe you can handle the truth. Mr Mainella is here to share the truth: you can do it." The students applauded, and we had an absolutely fabulous session without a single problem.The rest is history: at Danbury High School we now have sessions for all the seniors, for all the ninth-graders. But my success depends on the great people there: they care about kids.

Don Pellegrini

DP was the youngest headmaster to take over a Boston high school in the history of Boston schools. Age 28, and still there today. I've seen students search out Mr. P to get him to write something nice in their yearbook. Mr P, you cared, you made adifference for me at West Roxbury HS. Very difficult school, diverse student body, predominantly black and Hispanic. DP had earned a reputation as a stern disciplinarian but utterly fair and caring. Again and aagin, I've seen him interact with students and staff doing things that many wouldn't dare do, because of fear, and he would always position himself where the student came first, and everybody knows it—and that's the secret to the successs that he has experienced at WRHS.

Mike Donato

Mike took over a most troubled school, Hyde Park, in the late 1970s. Jean Marelli (sp) said to me, re my concern about working in the schoool—said, Mark, we havfe a rpincpal here who cares about the kids. You're not goingt to have any problems with our students. And of ourse Jean herself cared deeply. Mike's story is also documented in Common Ground (re bussing). He turned a school around that was in chaos. He brought order to the school by infusing not only his faculty but his students with an appreciation, an understanding, of taking responsibility for ones own actions. The teachers's teacher.

Mike Longo

When I met Mike Longo he was an Assistant House Master at New Bedford High School, one of the largest schools in New England with over 3000 students. He demonstrated character, commitment, and a passion fo rmaking a difference for his students, and he ultimately worked his way to House Master, then to Headmaster, then became Assistant Superintendant, and now is the Superintendent of New Bedford Public Schools. I was told back in 1977 to stay out of New Bedford High School; they had just had a riot outside the building and it was a risky place to work. But since that time I've watched for 28 years while teachers, support staff, and administrators across the board proclaim, "We are family!" This may sound trite, but I had an opportunity to see just what it meant some years ago. I had just finished a lecture at New Bedford High School, and a you ng lady approached me to say thank you. The then headmaster, Joe Oliver, spotted this young lady amidst all the post-lecture confusion and asked what she had said. I asked him why he was curious. Nothing in particular, he responded, but last night it had been on the news that her mother had cut the live-in boyfriend into pieces. I asked him in horror what the kid was doing in school, and I'll never forget his reply. "Mark," he said, "don't you get it? We are the best part of many of our students' day. They live amid chaos and turmoil. She was in my office at 6:30 this morning. Police are in her house, news cameras everywhere: the best place she could find to be was the highschool. She knocked on my door and I was there."

Cornelia Kelly

Cornelia Kelly is the headmaster of Boston Latin High School, the most elite public school in America. I've been visiting Boston Latin for 28 years, working with former headmasters and now with Cornelia. She has demonstrated a unique approach by not only using me with her students (the so-called academic elite, the ones who tested at the top of the 100,000 students in Boston), but also with her teachers.

Her message was that her students aren't better—perhaps they're more academically disposed, but they still need to know the value of respect and common courtesy. They need to know that many people as bright as they may be still fall into a career they hate, or experience a less than rewarding life, simply because someone told them that because they're so smart they should be a doctor or a lawyer. Actually, everyone has some unique strength that deserves to be developed. She said to me, "I want them to hear about the reality of the working world—the need to find a niche where you fit."

Her students are always being told they're better because they're gifted academically, and her faculty are told they're the best as well. But she wants her teachers to be able to connect with all students. She wants her teachers to give their all to every student, every shape and size and disposition. She wants the Teacher's Teacher on her staff, the one who can motivate all students on any level.

This is profound and significant coming from her. She's positioned to be an academic elitist, but on the contrary, she is teaching humility and constant striving. What she says is that she has great kids, great faculty, and every day she challenges them not to be complacent, not to take anything for granted, but work to be the best they can be.

Bernard Gassaway

Bernard Gassaway is the former principal of Beach Channel High School in Queens, New York. He left Beach Channel High School because he was outraged by an incident between a student and a teacher, in which he felt the teacher was in the wrong. He put his career on the line standing up for the student, saying that if the teacher were not removed, he himself would resign. The teacher's union defended the teacher and Bernard left, without a clear sense of where his career was headed. But as it turned out, with a new educational regime in New York City, he found another niche and has become the Superintendent of Alternative Learning Programs for the city, overseeing some forty different programs all over the five boroughs.

Although I've been told to stay out of the inner city schools, Bernard has been instrumental at getting me into these so-called at risk school programs, and giving me opportunities to meet the students who fill them and the teachers who work there. I have seen first-hand how teachers in these programs work every day to help and inspire the kids who need it the most. Bernard Gassaway creates the climate where these teachers can do their best. He sets the bar as high for his faculty and students as anyone in any system, in hardcore inner city settings

I want to finish by talking briefly about three special examples who come to mind, exemplary teachers from these programs who have made a special difference. Ms. Etel Elman worked under Bernard's auspices at the Manhattan Learning Center, and has finally retired after a career spent working with these kids. The standard view of these schools is that their students somehow can't, or won't, or don't want to achieve anything. But the truth is that for many of the kids in these special programs, this is the first time in their lives that they've encountered teachers who believe in them, who tell them "you can", not "you should give up." Talking to teachers like Etel, you hear of kids who are going back to school after dropping out, working nights, getting their GED. And they say "Etel told me I could amount to something." She gave them something to work towards, and the confidence in themselves that they needed to persevere.

Another great example is Frank Dody, principal of Island Academy, the high school for prisoners at Rikers Island. He chose to teach there, moving to this program from a job at a suburban high school on Long Island. He is helping to give the inmates a chance to come out with a new start, with the basic skills and education to pursue a life that's not a dead end. And finally, Eileen Taylor, principal at the High School of Aviation Technology in Queens, knows from experience that high school can be enough to launch a productive life, if it teaches the skills and the attitude kids need to succeed. When she took over Aviation Technology, she said to me that if she were to pull her graduates out of LaGuardia, Newark, and Kennedy, she could stop air traffic in New York. She wasn't boasting: she was just pointing out that you don't need to go to college to have a good career, as long as you learn the work ethic and the drive to excel at whatever you do.