Ms. Anderson remembers Louis, the ninth-grader she failed during her first year of teaching, and she addresses the issue of what kind of leadership would have kept Louis from being educationally shortchanged. LOUIS sat in the first row, third seat. He was a year or two older than the other 25 students in my ninth-grade English class in a large comprehensive high school in Chicago. Louis came from the poorer, African American community across the busy street that divided his neighborhood from the blue-collar Italian neighborhood. It was 1970, and the students sat in rows organized alphabetically by their surnames. The class was well behaved. was a first-year teacher, and had four other classes of 26 students each and a homeroom of 28, for a total of 158 students that saw daily. Louis was a very shy boy of average height with caramel-colored skin. He was neat, clean, quiet, and accommodating. His deep brown eyes didn't look up much, at least not when the teacher's gaze turned in his direction. It was as if meeting the teacher's eyes would have allowed access into the vulnerable young man trying to find a path to connection and expression. He came to class every on time and with his books. He had perfect attendance, and he always did his it seemed as if Louis hadn't heard the assignments or hadn't understood them. When he brought in his scrawled papers, they were rarely written in sentences; his spelling was atrocious; it was hard to identify the ideas in his papers, which were scattered and vague. On a typical might have been able to give him five minutes of undivided attention and another 15 minutes after class several times a week. He responded to my suggestions well. I understand, he would say. I can do this. I'll do his work didn't get better. At the end of the year, had to give him a grade, and Louis did not fulfill the standard for a ninth-grade student at that time. Despite all his effort and mine, had to tell him a few weeks before school ended in June that he wouldn't pass my course; would have to refer him for testing and remedial help. But I'm here every day, he said, tears welling in his eyes. I do all my assignments. don't know whether Louis, in so many ways an exemplary student, ever graduated from high school. He failed my class, but failed him. Over my 30 years as a teacher, counselor, assistant principal, principal, and professional development director, have regularly asked myself, What would have helped that first-year teacher help Louis? What would have given Louis more of a chance to succeed in my class, in high school, in higher education, and in his chosen vocation? What kind of professional development would have made a difference for me and for Louis? What kind of leadership could have helped me make certain that students such as Louis would not be shortchanged? These questions are not just about teachers and what they need. They are also about the roles and capacity of principals and assistant principals and of the people who work in district and regional education offices. These administrators are the people who can change the system's expectations for teachers in the classroom and can support teachers and help them acquire the skills they need to meet those expectations. Yet these administrators can't work miracles. In fact, they often feel the same lack of support that teachers do. What has to change in order to enable our system of schooling to give Louis what he needs? am a director at the Chicago Academy for School Leadership (CASL), a position that allows me to give others what needed myself in order to help Louis and his classmates perform at higher levels in the classroom. These are things that believe can help all of us who work in urban school systems to do our jobs better. believe that when practitioners support practitioners, students benefit. A Culture of Collegial Support After a session with Louis during which had explained to him what needed to improve in his work and how he might make those changes, he nodded and promised to bring in a new version the next day. …