Education

Banks shows pride in his alma mater

By STEPHON JOHNSON

Amsterdam News Staff

“Nothing feels small. This is a big school,” said New York City Schools Chancellor David Banks last Thursday.

He was responding to a question about the tendency for people to visit their elementary, middle or high schools and remember them to be bigger than they are.

Banks took a trip down memory lane last week when he visited his alma mater Hillcrest High School in Jamaica Hills, Queens. Even though it’s been decades for Banks, the feeling of being back filled him with nostalgia.

“For me because it feels and looks almost exactly the same way. But I mean…it was a good place to be. And the spirit of it…and I’m pretty good. I have a pretty good sense and I was a principal for 11 years.”

Banks said that the school’s current condition of clean hallways, classes fully attended, and school bulletins addressing the hot button issues of the day is a result of the precedent set by its principal.

“It’s culture. And it doesn’t—culture doesn’t just happen. Culture is something that you have to work out. Over the years, I would always check on how things were at Hillcrest, even though I had not visited.” Praising current Hillcrest Principal Scott Milczewski, Banks said that you can tell how well a place is run the minute you step inside a school. “Whenever I walk into a building, I walk into the building as a principal,” said Banks, who also taught for a decade. “I wear my principal’s hat and I see little things that principals see. And this is a well-run place.”

Banks did take time, however, to

look at things through a former student’s lens as well when reminded of a rule that hasn’t changed. Banks visited multiple classrooms, checked out the school auditorium, hit the gym (“I don’t know if you say, but I got a couple of shots,” said Banks). “I remember a few times we tried to sneak on the el(Photos courtesy of the New York City evator, they were like ‘You Department of Education) can’t be on the elevator,’” said Banks while laughing. “You got it. We’re not going on the elevator. We’ll take the stairs.” Someone then handed Banks a copy of the 1980 yearbook. Banks immediately opened it to a page that showed a pic of his high school self. To him, that’s what this trip was all about. “It just feels like coming home. It really does,” said Banks. “I don’t know what I was thinking it would feel like, but I think I anticipated that it’d feel different. Just because I’m different. I’m 60 years old now. But it’s almost like taking me back in time.” “It shaped how I move and how I see myself in the world,” Banks said.

(Stephon Johnson photo)

I have long regarded the New York City Department of Education as an entity that has mastered the purposefulness of failure. Any measure of success children and schools have enjoyed has been garnered despite the system from which they operate from. Successful schools function as silos in the midst of the weight of a bloated bureaucracy that professes to have the interest of every child as its No. 1 priority but episodic leadership, promotions of individuals to positions of power who wallowed in mediocrity, coupled with wasteful spending and a top-down leadership paradigm have plagued the system for years. I come from an era where you had to prove your mettle as an educator based on student outcomes. Student outcomes reveal themselves in a variety of ways—they can be test scores, graduation rates, scholarship reports, attendance rates or even a parents’ or scholars’ smile or a visit after a graduate enters college and comes back and thanks you for the sacrifice, time, and structure you provided.

When I started in District 13 in March of 1998, the first books I received were from the legendary educational giant, Dr. Lester Young. The books would lay the foundation for my educational career. The first book was called “The Dreamkeepers: Successful Teachers of African American Children” by Gloria Ladson-Billings which spoke to what is called Critical Race Theory, which, simply put, is the ability for an educator to craft a lesson that incorporates the culture and values of the children that the educator is charged with teaching. On a deeper level, it is the essence of cultural plurality and the intersectionality between race, class and gender. An educator who has embraced Critical Race Theory understands that there must be an inclusivity where every historically undervalued American can see themselves in the curriculum that is being taught.

The second book was by Charlotte Danielson, it was titled “Enhancing Professional Practice.” The framework was based on four basic elements an educator should master: these elements are student services, instruction, professionalism and perpetually engaging in professional development. There are two important citadels of education that I have come to know intimately in central Brooklyn. Benjamin Banneker Academy for Community Development and Bedford Academy. Both schools were created with specific levels of intentionality: provide scholars with an alternative to specialized high schools which in recent history have disproportionately excluded Black and Brown scholars and to provide a cultural atmosphere that promotes morals, values and educational excellence.

The aforementioned schools have historically fulfilled their missions with graduation rates that fluctuate between 96 and 100% on a yearly basis. However, each school, much like its counterparts system wide, is now facing challenges that it has never faced before. What to do with a cadre of scholars who have been remotely educated since March of 2020 and now have been thrust back into school? It’s a daunting task. This truly has been the most challenging year. As the first semester has come to a close, a daunting reality has set in, the pandemic has stunted the academic, social and emotional growth of our scholars. Teachers and administrators spend more time with the children they serve in school then the ones they love at home. Many of us are burned out. Throughout my 23 years in the system, it’s been a glorious struggle. Yet, this school year is like no other. Weekly COVID exposures to both students and staff can cripple a school’s momentum. I have seen it firsthand. Sometimes it feels like we are rolling the dice in a game we surely will lose. We enter into our buildings with a population of scholars who most likely have been exposed to someone who has COVID on a

daily basis. Or we ourselves have been unwittingly exposed! Nevertheless, as educational leadCOMMENTARY ers, we still face compliance mandates, questions from parents about remote learning options, that we cannot possibly answer. There is pressure to make sure our children are safe and learning even while COVID-19 strains run rampant. It all begs the question, should schools stay open? The answer is that they must stay open. I have seen the impact of on-line instruction. It doesn’t work. Although there is always a cluster of scholars who will excel, for special needs, elk scholars and scholars who need live instruction, it was a disaster. There is no substitute for in-person instruction in an atmosphere that is conducive to success. The shakeup at Tweed is a welcomed change. I expect more changes as time goes by. As I believe in Mayor Adams, I believe in Brother Banks. He has been one of us, he understands the plight and knows that the current system is far from sustainable for student success. We need hope. We need inspiration and we need a plan of action. Our most precious resources, our children, must succeed; the alternative is unthinkable.

Adofo A. Muhammad Ed.D serves as principal of Brooklyn’s Bedford Academy High School.