FOR MONTHS I'd heard the rumors. At first, it was just hushed whispers spoken under cover of darkness in empty hallways, in deserted parking garages, and behind closed doors. knew something subversive was up but could only piece together bits of words, parts of sentences. Just enough to know that whatever it was had raised hope within the resistance. Then one day, the words were spoken out loud and in public--right in the hallway, right outside my office door. Rushing outside, hurriedly surveyed the hallway for the men in black suits and sunglasses--or, worse yet, the Reading First coaches--coming to take the treasonous citizen into custody. Really? asked. I thought it was just a isn't a legend. real. I've seen it. It's one of those public 'private' schools, right--in some suburban community with a really high tax base? Wrong again, my colleague said. It's in a working-class neighborhood with really high mobility rates, single-parent families, and high unemployment rates. Only a few years ago--before they implemented their current plan--the school had only a 60% proficiency rate. Now, their fifth-graders score 100% proficient. With the glee of a child who triple-dog-dares you, she added, And they don't use textbooks. Knowing her coup de grace had found its mark, she smiled triumphantly. Have faith, Bobby, she said as she turned to walk away. stood speechless. Sure, there are things don't have to see to believe, things easily accept on faith--like the Sun will come up tomorrow, the Earth revolves around the Sun, and somewhere just south of Memphis, Elvis is enjoying a fried peanut butter and banana sandwich. But this? No, this had to see with my own eyes. Soon, feeling like Indiana Jones searching for the Holy Grail, donned my figurative fedora, climbed into my Jeep, and stealthily headed out in search of my own Holy Grail--a school that operates without fear of No Child Left Behind (NCLB), without Reading First programs, without reading coaches who intimidate and browbeat teachers. A school where teachers do not use scripts in their teaching but instead use their intellect, imagination, and expertise. If it was out there, would find it ... perhaps in Kingsport, Tennessee. Finally arriving at my destination, a city of 34,000 nestled in the southern Appalachian Mountains, searched for Roosevelt Elementary School. was sure would recognize it right away. It would be protected by an alligator-filled moat, an electrified fence, and ominous-looking guards demanding that state my business. Instead, when wheeled my Jeep into the parking lot, a beautiful old school building welcomed me. Nice camouflage. thought. Hiding in plain sight. Who would think that such an innocent-looking building could be home to such subversive activity? As emerged from my Jeep, a man presumed to be the principal, Dwain Arnold, slammed the door shut on his minivan. couldn't help but wonder if it was a specially designed mobile fortress fitted with bulletproof windows and run-flat tires to protect him from the ever-present threat of being apprehended by the NCLB auditors. When Dwain turned to greet me, his appearance stunned me. I'd expected a haggard, war-worn martyr wearing his battle scars like trophies. Instead, met a relaxed young man in a crisp white shirt and tie--looking like a ... well ... like a school principal. Walking toward the building, we talked casually. Everything seemed so normal. Too normal. Moments later, after clearing security, he swung open the door, and got my first glimpse of the hallway. Immediately, knew that everything was not normal, at least not normal for the way most schools operate in 2007. This was a place about and for children. The walls were bright and covered with huge, colorful displays and beautiful, large photographs of the children who live, work, and play in Roosevelt Elementary. …
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Dec 1, 2007
Bill Fleming 
Open Access