Education Diary: Learning at different speeds

Benjamin Grove

Friday, May 21, 1999 | 10:27 a.m.

This is the sixth day of a seven-day series that chronicles the lives of fourth graders in a classroom at Helen Jydstrup Elementary School. Reporter Benjamin Grove closely followed the class during the first three months of this school year and has monitored the students' progress since then. The Sun changed the names of the students, their teacher and substitute teachers to protect the children's identities. Names of other teachers are real.

Today teacher John Pendry navigates his class through the writing process. Later separate groups of students leave their classmates for special attention in two programs -- one for students who need extra help reading and one for gifted children.

Monday, Nov. 16, 1998

John Pendry has been preaching adjectives to his students the last few days. Now the teacher announces they are going to write a descriptive paragraph -- six to eight sentences -- about their bedrooms.

Students start with "pre-writing." Some of the pupils call it "webbing" -- writing ideas out on paper. Then they move to the "draft" stage, when they actually begin writing paragraphs.

Pendry walks from desk to desk, as he often does. He leans over Ramon's desk. Ramon, the bright troublemaker who finishes his assignments early and does A-work, has been talking out of turn all day.

Ramon has jumped ahead and begun drafting his paragraph. He scrawled only a few words of pre-writing: "dirty, socks, stained."

"Ramon, I know fourth grade is easy for you right now," Pendry says. "But there is going to come a day when you don't know everything. I'm trying to prepare you for that. You have to train yourself to work. Don't be lazy."

Pendry has introduced his students to the thesaurus, and Amal and Ramon love it. Last week, Amal was calling teachers on the playground "corpulent," a synonym for fat. Now Ramon has discovered that "idiosyncratic" is a synonym for strange.

It's his new favorite word. He tells everyone they are idiosyncratic.

"Look at you, Ramon, your vocabulary is expanding like a supernova," Pendry tells him, laughing.

At lunch students wolf down school pizza and then rush out to recess.

Armand, sporting a new buzz haircut, is wandering the playground alone. His conversation is a stream of consciousness about his activities and the places he has visited, including Pakistan.

Armand says matter-of-factly that nearly everywhere he goes he gets beat up.

Later Pendry tells a story about Armand: Last week he had asked the boy for his phone number. Armand's response: four.

Pendry had told Armand that a phone number is a seven-digit number.

Armand, confused, said, "In the kitchen, my mom's room..."

He thought Pendry wanted the number of phones in his house. Pendry clarified himself and Armand finally understood. After all that, he didn't know his phone number.

Computer lab

After recess it's time for the class' weekly trip to the computer lab.

The computer teacher, a bearded, patient man is teaching the students how to type.

They started with the "home-row" keys -- a s d f j k l ; -- and are now moving to other areas of the keyboard. Today, it's R and U.

Students who are doubled up on one computer have to alternate practicing typing on a cardboard keyboard.

But students don't really use them. Instead, they watch the real computer as their partners type.

Pendry later tells the students to switch over to a computer math game so they can practice multiplication drills.

The game is a timed exercise of 100 problems.

Ramon barrels through the game, answering most problems correctly.

Orwell struggles, missing most problems.

Nick declares, "Uh, I don't know my eights."

Holly, dressed in purple velour bell-bottoms, incorrectly answers 12x6=58. She pauses to work out 3x9 on her fingers.

Bright-eyed Lily sails through the problems, answering only two incorrectly. The class uses the computer game until the period is over.

Reading program

As the students file back to the class, Rachel, Elena, Richard and Jorge head to a special reading program called simply the Reading Improvement Program, or RIP.

The RIP uses a remedial curriculum that is heavy on phonics and designed to help students who have fundamental problems with reading. Elena is a new addition.

Pendry had 11 kids who qualified for RIP, but there is only room for seven from his class.

In this session there are only six, four from Pendry's class and two others, including Darius, who was moved from Pendry's to a newly formed class.

To start the class the RIP teacher -- today it's substitute Jane Patterson -- has the students individually read aloud a long list of phrases, which is supposed to get them used to identifying "word clusters." "A tall girl, a big house, made me mad, in the book, all last night."

After each of the students read the phrases individually, Patterson has them make up a sentence using one of the phrases. Students get a scratch and sniff sticker for their efforts.

Patterson patiently plods through the lesson, using a gentle voice and heaps of positive reinforcement to coax answers. These children have fallen so far behind their peers they are often afraid to answer.

Today's lesson is about vowel clusters "ee," "ea," "ie" and "e." The teacher shows the students different words, asking them which vowel clusters they see in words like "clean."

The students seem to understand, and slowly they categorize the words by verb cluster. About halfway through, though, Darius balks. He refuses to answer and begins to pout.

Richard shines. He raises his hand and always answers correctly.

Elena seems to struggle with the answers, but she tries again and again. Afterward, the RIP teacher says a few of the students in the RIP do not seem to get the extra help they desperately need at home.

Many parents work at night, she explains.

"We have a lot of dancing moms at this school," she says.

Tuesday, Nov. 17, 1998

GATE stands for gifted and talented education. It's the program in Clark County for third through fifth graders who are deemed especially bright and need extra guidance.

Gate teacher Carolyn Stewart's classes range from seven to 21 students. Pendry used to send three students out of his classroom to GATE, but Shannon T. moved. Now it's just Molly and Hannah. (However, in a few weeks, Pendry will have Karen take the GATE test. She will qualify and join GATE.)

GATE students meet with Stewart for 450 minutes a week -- typically Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.

There are now only seven Jydstrup fourth graders who qualified for GATE, although there are more than 150 fourth graders at the school. Stewart relishes the small class size.

The students seem very comfortable discussing topics as heady as philosophy.

GATE goals

On the wall is a list of GATE goals: 1. Develop abstract thinking. 2. Practice creative thinking skills. 3. Practice cognitive processing. 4. Communicate through a variety of media. 5. Experience a differentiated curriculum.

Gifted students in a regular classroom are often bored as the rest of the class tries to catch up with what they already know, Stewart says.

GATE students learn to analyze, synthesize and evaluate information, not just facts and how to apply them.

Many of the district's most gifted students would sit idle without GATE, "tapping their toes," Stewart says.

The goal in American education seems to be to getting all students to average, Stewart says, and that should not be the goal.

Back in Pendry's classroom, students struggle to fill their last few minutes reading before their 12:15 p.m. dismissal. Students have early dismissal this week so teachers can hold afternoon parent conferences.

Orwell, who has returned from his special education classroom, now just sits and looks at his wrists. He reads at a second grade level and he doesn't bother to get the class reading book out.

Pendry tells him to play a computer game that tests his multiplication tables. He enjoys it. He uses his fingers to count out many of the answers.

Finally students are released for the day.

Pendry has 40 minutes for lunch before his first parent-teacher conference. He grabs some steak tacos from a nearby restaurant. He talks grades.

Parents will get their children's report cards when the pupils and their parents come in for conferences. Pendry is giving quite a few A's, B's and C's. He admits he gives some latitude to the ones who try.

"If you're trying your best, you're working hard, I'm not going to give you a D. You'll get at least a C. I mean, these kids are 10. If they are really making an effort, do they need an F on their report card? Their home lives are rough enough as it is."

Parent conferences

Molly's dad arrives for the first conference.

Pendry unveils Molly's straight A's right away.

Pendry adds, "She's been a dream come true as far as behavior."

He also tells Molly's dad that reading and writing are Molly's strong suits.

Molly is the kind of student who gives more detail than he asks for on writing assignments -- a plus, the teacher says.

"She's always been the leader in the group," Pendry says.

"Her last teacher wasn't that easy on her," Molly's dad says, scanning the report card.

Pendry assures him that he isn't being easy on Molly.

Molly's dad asks Pendry a question he has never been asked: "Should we consider private school for her?"

Pendry says, "There's nothing that she is not getting. She's thriving here. She has friends here. She seems to like school. And that's important."

Her dad says that his mother and his wife are concerned she's not getting what she needs in public school. But he said he likes the fact that she is getting exposure to a wide variety of students who have different backgrounds and strengths.

Pendry thanks Molly's dad for coming in and for working with Molly at home.

"When you look at a class of kids, you can tell which kids have parents who are helping them at home," Pendry says.

Holly's mom is waiting at the door when Molly and her dad leave.

She and Pendry crouch at the kidney-shaped table in the back of the room. The two sit facing each other, somewhat nervously.

"She does excellent work," Pendry tells the woman.

Pendry tells Holly's mom that her daughter is not a behavior problem for the most part, but "occasionally talks more about the Spice Girls than she works on what she is supposed to be doing."

Then Pendry gets to the issue that worries him most: "I'm concerned about her multiplication tables. She can figure them out if I give her time, but there's not a lot of instant recall going on."

Roberto L. and his mother are next in the parent parade.

Roberto putts on the classroom putting green but often looks up during the conversation between his teacher and mother, glancing over to gauge their moods.

Pendry talks honestly about Roberto's behavior, but eases into it.

"Roberto gets his work done. I am not academically concerned about Roberto," Pendry says. "It's not a work thing. But he spends too much time playing around."

The mother nods. She knows.

Roberto is hanging around the wrong boys, Pendry says.

"He wants to be cool," Pendry says. "He wants to be one of these boys. He thinks it makes him more popular, but he's popular with the wrong people. We're playing a game of peer pressure, and that's an extremely powerful thing."

(Later, Pendry says that the conference alone will not turn Roberto around. "He owns his mother," Pendry says.)

'Great kid'

Elena and her mom are next. Again, more "excellent behavior. She's a great kid."

Pendry had gotten a letter from Elena's mom at one point demanding to know why Elena was not in the Reading Improvement Program. Now that space has opened up in the program, she is thriving, Pendry explains.

Elena's mother does not know a lot of English.

During the conference, Elena talks softly to her little brother in Spanish.

"RIP should really help," Pendry assures the girl's mother. "I expect a lot of improvement by her next report card. She wants to read. She likes to read. She can sound out words, but she doesn't know what she has read at the end of the story."

Ramon's parents then stop by, even though they are not scheduled until tomorrow.

Pendry doesn't have Ramon's report card but he holds an impromptu conference with them anyway.

Ramon's parents are both small and slight, like Ramon.

His mother does not speak during the meeting. Ramon's dad wears a baseball cap with the logo of the California ranch where he works most of the time. He only comes back to Las Vegas occasionally, Pendry says.

"There's not a lot of money there," Pendry says.

Today, Ramon is wearing the same T-shirt and the same jeans he wore yesterday.

Pendry tells the boy's parents what he has told Ramon: the kid is smart, but he has some of the worst behavior in class.

"He always talks back, he always has to have the last word," Pendry says. "He's always squirming in his chair, he never sits down."

Got your number

Ramon's father gives Pendry the phone number of the California ranch.

"Oh, I'm going to copy this and put it up on the wall in front of his desk," Pendry says, joking.

The parents thank him and leave. Pendry is still clutching the phone number as he sits down with Dean's mom. He is in a good mood now.

This may be the easiest conference of all. Pendry has spoken glowingly of Dean lately.

At the beginning of the year, Dean's mother told Pendry that Dean had been on medication for Attention Deficit Disorder, a condition that makes it hard for him to concentrate.

So Pendry was ready. But the lack of focus and bad behavior never surfaced. Dean has been one of the best-behaved boys in class.

"He's kicking butt," Pendry says. "He's just plain excellent. He's working hard, and he's trying his best. He does everything I ask of him. He's getting all A's."

Pendry tells her that he has some reading comprehension trouble.

"That's where the ADD comes in," she answers him.

"If I were you, I would go home and just congratulate the heck out of the kid," Pendry says.

"I will," she answers.

Pendry's day is done.

"I just want them to go home feeling good about their kid," he had said at one point during the day. "I have to be honest with them, but I'm not trying to get them grounded. I want them to like school. That's important to me."

Friday, Nov. 20, 1998

The science question from boardwork today is: Tigers and zebras have stripes. Is it for the same reason?

The students are stumped. Ray suggests "camouflage" for tigers.

From whom? Pendry asks.

"Hunters," Ray says.

Tigers had stripes long before hunters existed, Pendry tells him.

"Other animals," Ray says, amending his answer.

What animals eat tigers? Pendry asks.

"Dinosaurs," Ray answers.

No, Pendry says, tigers are at the top of the food chain. Nothing eats tigers.

Pendry explains that tigers need stripes to hide from their prey. Pendry says zebras use their stripes to stay together in herds and confuse their attackers with the blur of black and white stripes. Predators can have difficulty attacking just one zebra.

Then the students get out the descriptive paragraphs about their bedrooms that they have been working on all week.

Use of the thesaurus in class is now widespread.

Ramon is now making a written list of every word he sees, filling a sheet with new words he is learning.

He shouts out the words he discovers as he leafs through the thesaurus. "Bedazzle! Antiquated! Corpselike!"

"Kids like him love that stuff," Pendry says. "It's a virtual limitless source of entertainment for him now. I guess if it has to be something, it might as well be that."

The paragraph Ramon wrote is filled with words he looked up in the thesaurus. He uses "muff" to describe a mess in his room. He uses "idiosyncratic" instead of strange and substitutes "tuck" for bed.

Lily has used "beef-witted" and "beetle-headed" -- synonyms for "stupid" -- to describe her sister.

Erin says she has a "bantam" room, a synonym for small.

Pendry laughs and hints to the students with questionable looks that they may not be using the words correctly. But he doesn't want to discourage use of the thesaurus.

Just a few days left before break...

Wednesday, Nov. 25, 1998

"Keep them busy, that's the name of the game today," Pendry says. "You give them room to wiggle, and you are dead."

Today is the last day before a five-week holiday vacation break. Their "track break" vacations are typically three or four weeks, but this one stretches from Thanksgiving to Jan. 4.

The students buzz as the excitement of the holiday sets in.

"You can just feel them vibrating," Pendry says.

Pendry packs up his own stuff as the class works. The class won't be back until Jan. 4. When they return, they will be back in the classroom where they started the year.

Pendry packs up a box: his Buffalo Bills license plate, which had been buried on his desk, a collection of papers, the Christmas lights he had strung in his classroom window at the beginning of the year.

Pendry also keeps Amal's report card. Amal has been out of school for several weeks, but is expected back in January.

Who's Slinky?

Then Pendry begins handing back the loot he has accumulated from students over the first three months of school. Much of it -- a rubber ball, a Slinky, a baseball cap -- belongs to Ray.

Ray comes up to Pendry to tattle on Nick, who has drawn a penis on the reindeer at the bottom of a December calendar.

Pendry confiscates it, then takes the calendars with similar drawings away from Roberto H. and Lucy, who is back in school after a week out for having her tonsils removed. The three sat together in the library.

Pendry talks with all three in the hall, telling them to grow up.

Later Pendry calls Nick's mom during lunch to tell her about the drawing.

She says they are working on his behavior at home.

After the call Pendry laughs about that. "No, they're not," Pendry says.

Pendry says elementary school pupils have wide access to potty language and foul material.

"They all live in apartments together. They hang around with middle school kids. It's everywhere."

Finally, Pendry directs the class to begin final clean-up. It takes them about 30 minutes to clean their desks and the room.

Pendry jams the "Wizard of Oz" in the class VCR. There's just enough time to watch the whole movie before class ends for the quarter.

More than half the class has never seen the classic film. (Pendry notes that 18 of them have never been miniature golfing, either.)

Pendry is hardly nostalgic today about the first quarter of school. He notes that at this point in the year the class seems to be slightly ahead of some other classes he has had in language arts and reading. But they are behind in math -- particularly multiplication tables.

"Don't get me wrong," Pendry says. "I love my job. But today, they are just insane. I'll be so glad when it is 3:16 p.m."

In the school cafeteria, a fifth grade feast is under way.

This year there was an unusually high number of students who weren't getting a Thanksgiving dinner at home, teachers had learned from their students. So the school held one for all fifth graders.

The smell of turkey and apples and elementary school cafeteria gravy hang heavy at the entrance of the school.

It's a vaguely a familiar smell -- a scent of fall.

SUNDAY: In the final installment of the series, Pendry has shocking news for the students.

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