 
## Don't Speak Spanish!

_Just Three Words_ and Their Harmful Impact at Two Texas Middle Schools

By Alfredo (Fred) Diaz

Copyright © 2015 Alfredo Diaz

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Table of Contents

Introduction

Acknowledgments

The Source of Denial (I)

Out of the Comfort Zone

The Bridge Metaphor

First Day at the New School

Benito's Story

Antidote to Latino Inferiority Complex

Ethnic Awakening Begins

"Strong Trees Need Strong Roots"

A Greater Epiphany Unfolds

¡"Ni Papas"!–Learning Opportunity Denied

The Ethnographic Study

Intriguing Student Quotes

Effective Discipline Management (II)

Inner-City Experience

The Dress Code Gestapo

Gang-Wear in Decline

The Forest for the Trees

Synergy of Like-Minded People

Desperate Measures for Desperate Times

Red on Black . . .

The Ounce of Fear Hypothesis

The DAEP Candidate

Parenting Gone Wrong

Undermining of In Loco Parentis

Factoring In Cultural Awareness (III)

The Handshake Game

The Curative Power of Spanish

Validating Student Language

Maintaining Campus Stability (IV)

What Goes 'round Comes 'round

Enabling Strategy Revealed

The New Jacobson

Behavorial Downturn Resumes (V)

'Til the Well Runs Dry

Too Little, Too Late!

Proposed Long-Term Solution (VI)

Lessons from Turner Middle

First Teaching Experience

Principles and Principals

Last Reflections on Jacobson

Conclusion (VII)

Tribute to Dr. T

Definitions and Specialized Terms

Appendix

References

List of Photos and Illustrations

About the Author

Connect With Me

**Introduction**

In 2002, Jacobson Middle had a reputation as one of the most violent and unstable schools in the district. As a first-year assistant principal, I could sense the level of fearlessness and disregard for authority in the student body. I knew that my first priority was to help stabilize the school before I could explore additional factors inhibiting achievement. I borrowed from my Army experience to create a disciplinary persona. "The Dress Code Gestapo," as I would be called, allowed me to break the stranglehold held by the school's anti-authority element. With the tacit approval of the school principal, the unwavering support of the campus officer, and a growing faculty and staff involvement, significant progress was made after a three-year campaign. We diminished student aggression and defiance considerably by the end of the 2005-2006 school year—a level of tranquility not experienced in twenty years.

Previously, I had participated in an ethnographic study on academically successful Asian and Latino students. Respondents reported a strong ethnic identity, and native language maintenance, as critical factors in their school success (Zou & Trueba, 2001). At Jacobson Middle, a predominately Latino school, I was able to observe the impact of a weak or nebulous cultural identity upon student behavior and performance. With the use of Spanish and English, along with knowledge of Latino sociocultural dynamics, I was able to get inside the community's culture—rather than looking at it as an outside observer. I was convinced that the erosion of self-discipline and respect that I encountered was tied to Jacobson's _subtractive schooling_ (Valenzuela, 1999) environment. In a less-than culturally reaffirming environment, undesirable forms of identity development, including the gang subculture, quickly filled a void in many youths' needs.

In the first half of this personal narrative, I describe earlier experiences and self-discoveries that helped to transform my ethnic self-concept. In my early twenties, I was stationed with the Army in the Panama Canal Zone. Upon my arrival, I realized that I had suffered from an ethnic inferiority complex since my youth. I was able to make the self-diagnosis by reflecting on my primary symptoms. My reluctance to respond in the Spanish language throughout my adolescence and teenage years was tied to a negative ethnic self-perception. This was exacerbated by my limited fluency in Spanish—a language that, along with English, was central to my bicultural identity. While stationed in Panama, I discovered that native language redevelopment was the first step in reversing the impact of an ethnic inferiority complex.

Shortly after my departure, I enrolled in a college freshman English class. An unexpected writing assignment allowed me to examine my ethnic heritage in South Texas—extending back to the mid-1700s. My cultural sense of belonging _,_ which I had not contemplated much throughout my school-age years, began to crystallize. Hispano-Mexican culture, along with the Spanish language, was inextricably tied to the historical and cultural foundation of Texas, and much of the Southwest USA. Some years later, the discovery of a hand-carved figure of a Mayan deity, _Yum Kaax,_ in the school's garden would lead to a greater epiphany regarding the role of the history curriculum in depicting the Amerindian roots of the majority of mainland Latino students.

In college, I became aware to what extent America actually valued the Spanish language. Mainstream students chose the Spanish language, overwhelmingly, to meet their foreign language requirement. I concluded that Spanish language maintenance, along with English, offered members of the Latino community greater socio-academic benefits than English language development alone. I entered the teaching field with the hope of sharing some of these personal insights and experiences—as well as to challenge many contradictory and elitist notions in education.

After nearly achieving exemplary status in the 2009-2010 school year, Jacobson Middle's new principal decided to relax dress code enforcement. Within weeks, students reverted to a level of incivility that quickly overwhelmed the administrative team. My description of the behavioral transformation at Jacobson, and its return to a chaotic state, underscores the institution's role in promoting student disengagement problems. Of greater consequence, by disregarding the importance of student cultural identities, and steadfastly adhering to subtractive schooling practices and goals, Jacobson Middle has fueled disaffection and misconduct for decades.

In September of 2010, I was reassigned to Turner Middle for "strategic purposes." Upon my arrival, I perceived much ethnic discrimination toward Latino students. Reportedly, up to two hundred Latinos zoned to Turner had transferred to other area schools prior to the start of the school year. I found that "Don't speak Spanish!"–an attack on the heart of Latino cultural identity—was in common use as a classroom management tool. With the support of the principal, I went to work to challenge this discriminatory treatment. I was aware of how damaging those three words could be to Latino self-perception, as well as their negative impact on student global and academic self-concept.

In this account, I attempt to shed light on how two seemingly distinct aspects of schooling, campus discipline and school sociocultural philosophy, are actually highly interrelated variables. Jacobson and Turner purportedly "value" student language and culture, yet they do next to nothing to promote a culturally reaffirming environment. This can only compound the behavioral and academic difficulties of Latino youth. Few things are more threatening—and damaging to Latino bicultural identity than a school ban on his or her home language. At Jacobson, while not as apparent as Turner, the restriction on student language and culture was implicit through its subtractive schooling practices.

Many people may be surprised to find that the denigration of Latino student cultural identity continues to be justified by some educational personnel for discipline and classroom management purposes. I hope that this account will raise greater consciousness among public education practitioners—including those that may employ those demoralizing words ("Don't speak Spanish!") for altruistic, yet misguided, reasons. With increased awareness, there can be no pedagogical advantage, or justification, for banning the use of Spanish in a twenty-first century classroom. The time is long overdue to finally do away with this anachronistic and often debilitating practice—in both its overtly discriminatory, and institutionalized subtractive schooling forms. The potential loss of self-esteem to Latino youth, alone, demands that educational professionals re-evaluate its harmful impact.

**Acknowledgments**

I have received much input from many of my friends and colleagues. It was positive and constructive when I needed reaffirmation about the relevancy of the topic. This included: Terry Myers, Bruno Boffa, Pio Mendez, Michael Crow, Walt Evanoski, Rangel Espinosa, Charles Douglas, Roberto Corral, Don Pope, Bob Hawkins, Irma Tamez, Ozzy Reyes, Clint Conover, Flavio Ortiz, Uma Natarajan, Mary Ortiz, Jenny Smith-Murry, Oscar Castrillon, Manny Alvarez, Reginaldo Villalon, Benedict Eloja, Dr. Steve Fullen, Kenneth Crow, and my dad, Jose Antonio Diaz Sr., many of whom read and commented on portions of the draft. Heather Jackson and Deanna Woolen offered critical perspectives on grammar and wording, and acted as primary sounding boards. Bill Banfield played devil's advocate so well, at times, that our discussions nearly reached the boiling point! I really do appreciate what he did to help organize my thoughts, and for all the times that we sorted through related topics over the preceding years.

In 2000, I had a chance meeting with Dr. Angela Valenzuela at an ethnographic research conference. She recommended that I read Subtractive Schooling: U. S.-Mexican Youth and the Politics of Caring (1999). I thank her for the invaluable knowledge and understanding that I gained from her work prior to my first year as an assistant principal. I also owe much to Dr. Yali Zou, my doctoral committee chairperson. I had already reached "burn out" stage before Dr. Trueba introduced us at a meeting to initiate the research project on academically successful Asian-American and Latino students. In my presence, Dr. Trueba would later state to Dr. Zou, "Do not let him fail!" In the spirit of a true teacher, Dr. Zou never gave up on me.

Finally, I want to dedicate the writing of this account to the person that I consider most instrumental in achieving an extraordinary discipline structure at Jacobson Middle School. This is the individual whose name is mentioned repeatedly throughout the text—Officer Charles Douglas, former Jacobson campus officer (2004–2008). Without his presence, wisdom, guidance, and support, I would not have been able to write the portion of the account describing the behavioral transformation that occurred. I do not think it could have been possible without him. I once introduced Officer Douglas to Dr. Miles as "one of the greatest human beings that I have ever known." I share this belief with many others that know him.

The Source of Denial (I)

**Out of the Comfort Zone**

On Friday, the 24th of September, 2010, I was called to the Central Office Administrator's (COA's) office at headquarters, and informed that I had been re-assigned to another school, a predominantly African-American, low-performing middle school in our district's southern sector. Having worked exclusively in Latino community schools throughout my career, I was unsure whether I had the requisite sociocultural knowledge and understanding to be an effective administrator there. I had mixed feelings about the whole affair, but felt somewhat relieved when the COA pointed to the school's location on the map. The school district spanned fifteen miles in every direction from downtown, and I rather doubt that the COA had taken into account the commuting time from my residence. The school was three miles closer to my home than my previous assignment.

I had become too comfortable in the peaceful Jacobson Middle School environment. I knew that I was not a well-rounded administrator. The extent of my expertise rested in establishing a strong disciplinary structure, and promoting intercultural understanding regarding Latino educational needs—something that I had only dabbled with at a few teacher training opportunities. Despite my shortcomings, many of my colleagues encouraged me to become a principal, with some stating that they would follow me to any school that I should go to. It always felt good to be lauded by my most significant professional peers and friends. Now the abrupt push from the higher administration was followed instantaneously by my own sigh of relief. I felt like a marine mammal, breaching after a prolonged dive.

I had recently fallen into disfavor with the newly appointed principal at Jacobson. At our leadership meeting, he gave himself as a prime example of a positive immigrant socialization experience in comparison to his relatives. His parents had insisted on full assimilation by striving to become, exclusively, English speakers. He contended that his family's academic and professional success was owed to that decision. I knew that the principal's personal belief system would figure prominently in addressing the school's most pressing issues, in determining what new programs and initiatives might yield the best achievement outcomes, along with the teacher training and development to help implement those concepts. For me, the principal's perspective was diametrically opposed to everything that I believed in, and all that I had been taught, experienced, and wished to promote in the field of education. I knew that I was quickly approaching a philosophical impasse that has vexed educators in regard to Latino student needs—to insist on a "one size fits all" model for social integration—despite its association with widespread educational failure—or help chart a course toward a more promising model of socio-academic development.

At another team discussion, I challenged the principal's views once again when he insisted that schools along the border were having extraordinary success with English immersion strategies. I commented that based on my experience while growing up there, I believed that the social and cultural dynamics were different. As a predominantly Hispanic region, most of our role models, our teachers, politicians, and professionals were English/Spanish-speaking bilinguals. Many of the Valley's Anglo Americans, and other non-Hispanics, were also conversant in Spanish to some degree. I was certain that our bicultural identity development along the border was a natural consequence of geography, along with sociocultural and historical ties, rather than culturally reaffirming school practices.

At some point, the principal had enough of my dissenting views. Although I had never been disrespectful toward him, I could tell that the atmosphere was tense, at times, when such topics arose. With hindsight, I was only trying to temper the principal's philosophy enough so that Jacobson Middle would not dive further into the educational abyss that has historically been associated with English-only policies for Latino community schools. About a week after my last comment, I was packing up my belongings.

**The Bridge Metaphor**

From my earliest days as a bilingual education teacher, I was determined to assist in reforming the system by opposing any restriction on the academic development of the Spanish language. My fieldwork, as an assistant researcher in an ethnographic study supported Vygotsky's _sociocultural approach—_ that the best possible outcome for linguistic minorities is bilingualism and biculturalism. The most academically successful Asian and Latino students and parents in the study shared the conviction that the maintenance of their ethnic identity had been a critical factor in their extraordinary school success (Zou & Trueba, 2001).

The role of native language maintenance was a recurring theme among the academically successful Asian and Latino immigrant students. Many of these students described themselves as a "bridge between two cultures." They described an adaptation to American life that was enhanced by the preservation of their ethnic identity, not by a rejection or diminution of it. The parental intuition regarding the indispensability of native language and culture in their children's self-identity now permitted them to enjoy "the best of both worlds." The Bridge Metaphor had come to represent the quintessence of a positive orientation in the immigrant experience of linguistic minorities in America. I was convinced that this metaphor represented the model, the thinking, and the educational outcome that could be achieved when the bicultural identity building needs of the Latino community were met throughout the educational process.

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The COA arrived at my school to spring the news of my untimely departure. I was in the cafeteria monitoring students when the principal called me over his two-way radio with some garbled message. I responded, but I could not communicate with him. My fellow assistant principal, Ms. Bee, signaled me to indicate that my response had not transmitted properly. There were dead zones in the building where radio contact was often impossible. I turned to my newly issued secondary phone, and again, the no service message came on. This would constitute the day's second 'last straw" in terms of the principal's re-justification to remove a particularly bothersome thorn from his side.

With the bell now having rung, and student safety being my primary concern as a school administrator, I led my grade-level pupils to their classrooms on the third floor, all the while attempting to respond to the principal. As I returned to my office, nearly ten minutes after the principal's initial radio communication, I found several students planning to skip class in the roof access stairwell. Now, after gathering and escorting those pupils to my office, I advanced toward the COA in the hallway. I greeted her, and then went on about my business. I had several parents to call in the remaining hour and a half of school. I did not know, then, that the COA had come specifically to see me. I thought that she was simply making a routine observation of the facility.

Before she left, after another ten minutes of waiting, there was a business card on my administrative assistant's desk requesting my presence at her cross-town office in the morning—at 8:30 sharp. At that moment, I had a distinct feeling that I had committed a professional blunder. That was my feeling as I stared at the COA's card: "Oh sh--! What did I do now!?" The COA left the building, likely annoyed by my failure to more fully acknowledge her presence. She had been waiting an inordinate amount of time, perhaps twenty-plus minutes. Immediately, upon beginning our meeting the next day, I apologized for my lack of decorum the previous day.

When I arrived at her office, and I enquired as to her whereabouts, I noticed that she was at a partitioned cubicle nearby. I greeted her, and she asked that I remain in the lobby while she attended another matter. After a ten minute wait, I was perspiring nervously when she came out to escort me to her office. I knew that I would soon be assigned to some other area school. Sometime during our discussion, once my initial tension dissipated, I repeated this thought. The COA actually found my comment amusing, following it with a smile. The COA then assured me that the decision to place me at another school was made for "strategic purposes." I kept my former teacher co-worker's, Ms. Ellen Bosley's, sound and cheerful daily affirmation in mind: "With today's economy, it sure is nice to be gainfully employed!"

Satisfied that this transfer was a lateral move, not necessarily a punitive one, the history teacher in me kept reminding me that "the truth usually lies somewhere in the middle." Evidently, the newly appointed principal at Turner Middle School was in need of a strong disciplinarian. Additionally, the COA mentioned that there had been a steady exodus of Latino pupils to other area schools, and that approximately two hundred Latinos zoned to Turner were not in attendance. She reassured me that she had considered my strengths carefully before making her decision. "I heard that you were the one for the job," she stated. It was true that school discipline and linguistic minority issues were at the heart of my educational passion, but how could she have known?! Before leaving, I handed the COA a copy of my personal school business card that highlighted my educational motto: "Biliteracy is the Key to Student Success."

I was quite confident that my views regarding the educational needs of Latino students were on the mark _,_ beginning with the need to promote schoolwide discipline and structure. Before leaving the COA's office, I asked, "May I speak openly?" "Yes, go right ahead," she responded. "In the next few months you will see two things happening: 1) The kids at Jacobson are going to get increasing out-of-control, and 2) Student behavior at Turner will improve throughout the remainder of the school year." Before I left, the COA stated, "I'll be watching carefully. If you do the things you say you can do, there will be further opportunities for you. Good luck!" As I left the main administration building, and neared my vehicle, I did all I could do to contain my exhilaration: "YES! God does work in mysterious ways!"

I was known for being a strict disciplinarian, to which many educational personnel at Jacobson Middle had attributed the initiation of the behavioral transformation in the student body. My moniker, The Dress Code Gestapo _,_ was well-deserved. But even my closest colleagues were not fully aware of some hidden ethnic group social and cultural elements that I had employed in order to bring stability to Jacobson, a once-feared Latino community school, nor my true motivation for the stringent measures that I had taken since my arrival there. The taming of Jacobson had been a team effort that took three years of unyielding resolve just to gain the upper hand.

The new principal decided to relax dress code enforcement, believing, perhaps, that former policies were somewhat heavy-handed. He came from a high school environment where students were permitted to dress much as they pleased. He thought that he could increase student motivation by affording them greater personal freedom. As time would soon tell, students in the Jacobson community only viewed those concessions as grand opportunities to exploit a weakened disciplinary structure.

After several years of daily verbal, and sometimes, physical challenges to the authority of school personnel, student defiance and conflict was at an all time low. The new principal was only seeing the fruits of our collective labor, after years of engaging in a war of attrition. We had succeeded in returning a measure of authority to the educational professionals in the school. My concerns regarding the relaxing of the dress code were dismissed as the protestation of a zealot. The following day, the principal, with a smug facial expression, wished me well at my new assignment. Then, he informed me that I was to receive a written reprimand for a "failure to maintain professional communication." "How's that for a parting shot?!" I thought. Perhaps it was justified, even if completely unintentional. I took the last thirty minutes of the day to visit briefly with as many faculty and staff members as possible, most of whom I had known for the previous seven years.

Door to door, I extended my hand to them, and said, "It has been a distinct pleasure working with you." "What?! What are you saying!?" was a common response. Several of the teachers and staff members had shocked expressions on their faces. A number of them became highly emotional, breaking down in tears. "You're the only one that we trust!" exclaimed one flustered teacher. The following week, half of my companions at Jacobson threw a farewell dinner party for me at a local restaurant. Many faculty and staff members refused to be a part of my unceremonious dismissal, although they knew that word of their attendance might reach the boss's ear. I was moved by their expression of love, gratitude, and solidarity.

At the meeting with the COA on Friday, I was informed that the move to Turner Middle had been "pre-approved" by her boss, in other words, not open to discussion. Before leaving, I had to sign a form acknowledging my understanding of her directives. As my head was in a bit of a tailspin until mid-morning, I had not read the document with much attention to detail before signing it. I just wanted to get the meeting over with, without a glitch, so that I could go outside and give a long awaited "Hooray!" All the while, I was careful not to allow the COA to sense my elation for fear that my new assignment might be quickly followed by a third.

As I re-read the short statement on Saturday, while taking a break from packing my personal effects at Jacobson, I got down to one of the final sentences, and to the clearly stipulated caveat: "You are directed to make immediate contact with your new principal in order to make the necessary arrangements." "Maybe 'immediate' means different things to different people!" I thought as I assessed my latest predicament. I had not made the call on Friday. I prepared myself to receive one more written reprimand upon my arrival at the new school.

**First Day at the New School**

I arrived at Turner Middle School at 6:30 on Monday morning. Upon entering the main office, Principal Dr. Miles came up to the reception area and extended his hand, giving me a cordial welcome. He remarked that although the circumstances regarding my transfer may have been uncomfortable, nonetheless, he was glad to have me on board. My new principal alluded to some form of divine intercession that may have placed me at Turner.

Standing with the principal at the main entrance, I awaited the earliest of student arrivals. As the first student approached, I said "Good morning," and received one in kind. I believe that all students deserve to be welcomed back to school every morning, even if they are returning from suspension. There is a saying in the Latino world: "Cortesía de boca, mucho consigue y nada cuesta" **.** (Courtesy of mouth, gets you much, and costs nothing.) As I greeted each student, I shook their hands if possible. There, I would begin my personal campaign of promoting structure and order—one handshake at a time.

The second most important tool for effecting attitudinal change would come minutes after the first trickle of students entered. This came with the knowledge that the optimal way to penetrate the boundaries of an ethnic community is with the use of their home language. Any time that I have communicated with Latino students in Spanish, in addition to English, the reaction is invariably positive. The understanding of this factor continues to elude many mainstream teachers and administrators, including some Latino educators. Using English alone, in establishing a trusting relationship with the Latino community, is at best, a half-hearted effort.

Minutes later, with the first Latino pupils approaching, I broke out a welcoming ¡ _"_ _Buenos días"!_ The reaction that I gauged from the students was, at first, one of sheer astonishment, followed by an immediate expression of contentment. Several students, walking off with their peers, continued to look back. I could hear them speaking in Spanish **:** ¡"Habla español! ¿Quién es"? (He speaks Spanish! Who is he?) By the end of the first week, not only were the Latino pupils greeting me in Spanish, so were many of the African-American students. All the while, I kept looking for clues that might provide insight to the cause of Latino student flight that the COA had mentioned.



As a former ESL instructor, I employed some of the methods that I had used in the classroom. I would point to an African-American student and say, "Ponte la camisa bien—por favor". Often students would simply look at me, and then to his shirt, and infer the meaning of the imperative. Occasionally, a pupil would respond unacceptingly, "I don't know Spanish!" A nearby Latino student would interject, "He said, 'Please put your shirt in—the right way.' " By the second week of this unsolicited second language exposure, the number of pupils, besides the Latinos, that frequently greeted me with ¡"Hola! Buenos días" multiplied rapidly. I was approached by African-American pupils that asked, "When are we going to have Spanish classes? I want to learn!"

Within a matter of weeks, the Spanish language had gained a new status as a linguistic asset among a portion of the student body. Few African-American students that I met harbored any hang-ups or reservations about the public use of the "foreign language" by the third week of daily exposure. Additionally, Latino students were happy to share their linguistic capital with anyone that requested it. "How do you say ------?" I could hear African-American students ask a Latino classmate. They would then come to me to practice a new word or phrase.

One of the most interesting and unexpected outcomes of increased Spanish language presence on campus came in the form of racial identity re-evaluation by some students. Several African-American pupils approached me to reveal that they were, actually, part Latino. They seemed interested in seeking this recognition now that the Spanish language had come into recent vogue on campus.

One black pupil was identified by the other Latinos as being of Honduran origin. He was far more reticent in his Spanish language use than I would have expected for a student that was, reportedly, the son of immigrants. Apparently, he must

have been absorbed more rapidly into the African-American community due to his racial background. The thought crossed my mind: "If he could only realize the many advantages of maintaining his native language and culture." While initially hesitant, he did eventually respond to me in Spanish. Perhaps it was not too late for him to rediscover and redevelop his rich Latino heritage as well. [In June of 2013, I travelled to Roatán, an island off the Honduran coast, to find that many of that country's blacks were former Caribbean Islander's, mostly from Cayman Islands or Jamaica. English, or Creole, was likely the student's first language, although he also spoke Spanish as the national language of Honduras. His two languages, plus one Afro-Caribbean dialect, formed the linguistic bridges across the distinct cultures of his self-identity].



My unrestricted use of the Spanish language, in the hallways, cafeteria, and other spaces was immediately a source of suspicion and discomfort for some of Turner's faculty. The ESL teacher, being within sight of my office, was most discomfited. The informal use of Spanish with the ELL (English language learner) component must have seemed, not only counterintuitive, but ultimately, counterproductive. I had dealt with many overzealous ESL teachers throughout my career that did not recognize the detrimental impact of English-only policies upon the Latino community. As I strolled leisurely by her classroom one morning, I extended a greeting in both English and Spanish. When I repeated "Buenos días," I noticed that several of the pupils looked wide-eyed at their teacher, as if to ask, "Is it OK to respond in Spanish?" "Dije ¡'Buenos días' "! (I said ¡Buenos días!). Finally, one student responded, "¡Buenos días!" and was immediately followed by a few more.

That afternoon, a tearful ESL teacher was in the principal's office. Her "pedagogically sound" justification for banning the Spanish language in class had received its first harpoon. In my view, the young ESL teacher had not adopted the English-only philosophy out of malice toward Latino immigrants, but rather, out of inexperience. There is a time and place for the focus on English language development, but there is also a fine line between altruistic repression and overt discrimination toward Latino youth in school. She may have been unaware of the educational policy of mistreatment that is sometimes legitimized as an unintended consequence of student English language developmental needs—until that day. In this teachable moment, I only wanted to convey the belief that although many ESL pedagogues see an incompatibility between English language development and the mere mention of a Spanish word in school, that was not what my experiences in the Panama Canal Zone, nor my subsequent research on immigrant Latino educational success, had thus far suggested.

The ESL teacher, like many other teachers of Latino students, had taken the focus on English development as a mandate to extend the exclusionary treatment of the ethnic language to every waking moment of the day. I was certain that hers was a learned behavior, since she was a new teacher from out-of-state. She had taken her cues from supervisors in the ESL field that promoted the behaviors constituting altruistic repression, along with her teacher peers at Turner that perpetrated human oppression out of sheer xenophobic ignorance. I did not think that she intentionally meant to attack student cultural identities, but that was the potential outcome with every "Don't speak Spanish!" uttered.

The novice teacher, however, seemed to be well-liked by her students. This is the one defining characteristic of the altruistic repressive teacher that differentiates her from the truly oppressive. Students know intuitively that they are not trying to be malicious, but rather, helpful. She must have felt that what she is doing to suppress the ethnic language was for a student's own good—like bad tasting medicine!

For several days, I awaited the fallout of that day's challenge to Turner's status quo in the treatment of Latino immigrants. I saw that the district's ESL supervisor had come out to meet with the teacher. Without regard to her professional philosophy, I knocked at the ESL teacher's door, and interrupted their meeting briefly, to distribute an article that supported my stance regarding the educational development of linguistic minorities. I gave them both a copy of Dr. Willis's _"Critical Issue: Addressing Literacy Needs in Culturally and Linguistically Diverse Classrooms."_ I felt that the principal, Dr. Miles, understood what my stirrings regarding Spanish language use were designed to do. He mentioned previously that he had traveled to countries in Latin America. I was fairly certain that those experiences had afforded him a more expansive view of the educational value of minority student language and culture. Perhaps, he just had much bigger fish to fry at that time. He did not call me in to discuss the teacher's concerns, as I had expected.

Weeks later, at a meeting with the principal, the ESL representative, and several members of the district's school intervention team, I was asked by the COA, "How has your experience been so far?" I responded enthusiastically, "The look on the kids' faces when I said, 'Buenos días,' was amazing!" I saw the group's only Latina instructional supervisor grin from a distance. I knew that I had potentially opened a can of worms. Discreetly, I had just given the COA my preliminary report regarding the causes of Latino flight to other area schools.

Despite the risk of offending anyone, I would not sit by at Turner Middle, or any other school, and allow Latino students to be subjected to antiquated policies that denied the use of their ethnic language under any circumstance. My experience and training told me that this treatment could potentially lead to low student ethnic self-regard, and a general decrease in their global self-esteem. This could only have negative academic consequences for bicultural students that are highly influenced by their ethnic self-perception.

**Benito's Story**

Through the lens of my Army experiences in the Panama Canal Zone, subsequent university coursework, and training as a qualitative research assistant, I was able to more thoroughly reflect on the phenomenon of Latino student achievement and underachievement. In September of 2010, I walked onto the campus at Turner Middle eager to identify the root causes of Latino student disaffection and flight. I had a hunch that a validating and nurturing environment, one that promoted Latino cultural identity, might not be present there.

Sitting at one of my first ARD (Admission, Review, and Dismissal) meetings at Turner, I attended as the administrative representative, as well as a non-official interpreter. The field of special education was filled with technical terms requiring that interpreters be specially trained in order to relay accurate information. I could only do my best to translate as precisely as possible. In the past, the ARD committee at Turner was hamstrung by its inability to coordinate with a school district interpreter, often having to rely on the secretary, the school's only Latina. Despite being a fluent speaker of Spanish, this additional duty took an excessive amount of her time. At a moment's notice, she would often have to drop her daily work to attend ARD meetings. As a result, limited-English-speaking Latino parents were often cajoled into agreeing that they did not require a Spanish translation. "You do understand? Yeah! Yeah!" Consequently, many limited-English-speaking Latino parents were excluded from any meaningful interaction involving their children's social and academic well-being at school meetings.

I arrived a few minutes early on one occasion. I had the opportunity to converse informally with the parent. I asked her if she preferred that I serve as her interpreter. Immediately, one of the veteran teachers interjected, "She has already said that she understands English!" I responded, "She just informed me that a translation would be helpful." The teacher's furrowed eyebrows indicated that she was not pleased by my response.

The student's mother was overjoyed to have a Spanish speaker to facilitate her understanding and participation. She related how her son's behavior had deteriorated toward the second half of the previous school year. She then commented that, mysteriously, in the last three weeks, her son had experienced some kind of transformation. He was now attempting to complete his homework, and he seemed to exhibit a much more positive attitude toward school itself. She mentioned, "My son says that there is a new assistant principal that he likes."

I stood up and extended my hand over to Benito's mother once again, reintroducing myself, ¡"Yo soy el subdirector nuevo! Me alegro que su hijo se siente m _á_ s a gusto en la escuela ahora". (I am the new assistant principal! I am glad to hear that your son feels more comfortable in school now.) Moments later, Benito arrived at the meeting room. He made a bee-line to me for a handshake. I greeted him in Spanish, ¿" _Cómo estás,_ Benito"? and he responded, **"** Bien, gracias. **"** This parent report reinforced my conviction that using Spanish to make a cultural connection with Latino community youth was not only helpful, but necessary. In my experience, the handshake, together with Spanish language use, had always been an effective means of disarming a recalcitrant Latino pupil.

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In mid-November, an incident flared up in which five eighth-grade Latino students were allegedly told by their teacher, "If you want to SPEAK SPANISH, you can go back [you guessed it!!!] TO MEXICO!" Evidently, this teacher must have had no regard for originality either! These words have been used by the xenophobic and intolerant mainstream, against persons of Mexican ancestry, since time immemorial. In attempting to disable the Spanish language in class, the teacher was attacking the heart of the entire Latino culture—not the ethnic Mexican community alone. The biggest problem, from a socio-academic perspective, is that a teacher perceived by Latino students to be a threat to his or her cultural identity can never fully connect at the level necessary to establish mutual caring and respect. A Latino pupil finds the need to defend against a violator of their basic human rights a higher priority than their own short term academic development.

I was called by main office personnel to the conference room to assist another school administrator, Turner's long-time assistant principal, Mrs. Cole. I was unaware of what had transpired before that now warranted a meeting with parents. The school had a policy of issuing "overnight" parent conference letters whenever disciplinary issues requiring immediate attention arose, particularly if they involved multiple students. In this instance, the teacher had attempted to silence Latino pupils in class, and they refused. According to student accounts, the agitated teacher, unable to secure their full compliance, then stated: "I don't care that the new assistant principal speaks Spanish. You're NOT going to Speak Spanish IN THIS CLASS!"

As the parent-teacher-administrator meeting got underway with student allegations of ongoing ethnic discrimination in the classroom, I wanted to remain unbiased and objective. Mrs. Cole, a highly skilled mediator, assured the parent group that teachers at Turner have never discriminated against Latino pupils. She asserted that the incident in question had resulted from the unruly students' reluctance to follow simple teacher directives. Seizing the opportunity to more fully recognize student and parent concerns, I thought that I might also help the teacher solidify her position by offering parents proof that she was not simply opposed to the natural code-switching communication style [from English to Spanish, then back again] of Latino students in her class. I interjected,

_The students have reported that they were only speaking Spanish while_ _involved in small-group discussions, and not during your direct instruction. They assure me that they kept their discussions focused on the task at hand._ _Are you willing to permit them to speak Spanish when working with each other in small groups, as long as they as using it constructively?_

Indignantly, she stated, "NO! I DON'T UNDERSTAND SPANISH! How do I know whether they are planning some action against me?"

I have heard this asinine argument time and time again, and I have to ask myself, "What message does this convey to the Spanish-speaking member of the community—particularly the young, impressionable student that may not understand the greater politics of power at work?" Did the distrust of culturally different members of society justify the denigration of student ethnic heritage? It seemed to me that the age old argument for propagating this mistreatment of Latino youth had managed to escape scrutiny at Turner Middle that schools with greater Latino populations had already experienced.

I conveyed to the teacher that those simple words came with much collateral damage—negating their worth in securing student compliance. "Don't Speak Spanish!" is the bunker-buster of discriminatory treatment where the Latino school experience is concerned. There is greater potential for psychological harm, and self-esteem ejection, caused to the student from a cultural self-concept perspective, than the rudest "Shut your mouth!" could ever produce. Student symptoms can include shame and discomfort associated with ethnic group membership, and even anger toward others that address them in the minority language.

After stepping into the hallway momentarily, I informed the unyielding teacher that her classroom edict prohibiting the use of Spanish was not only antiquated, obsolete, and counterproductive, but that it constituted a civil rights and human rights violation. Her face looked ashen. I could see by her expression that she had been living under a rock from a multicultural perspective. She had grown accustomed to the cover up which came as school administrators defended actions like hers as being justified and fully warranted in light of Latino student non-compliance. Unfortunately for her, I had found the chink in her armor _,_ having penetrated the otherwise insulated, inner sanctum of this school. I had been reassigned for "strategic purposes" by higher administration. As the parents walked through the hallways on their way out, one of the students' fathers came over to more thoroughly make my acquaintance. He said, with an air of contentment, ¡"Oiga, les dio alas"! (Listen, you gave them [the students'] wings!).

The word of what had transpired soon pervaded the campus. The new assistant principal would defend the constitutional rights of his cultural group when push came to shove. Those relatively few teachers that employed any means, including ethnic oppression, to maintain authority over their students must have reflected upon the harmful impact of ethnic discrimination in their repertory of measures. I knew that the majority of teachers at Turner were not so mindless or insensitive. The principal, Dr. Miles, took me aside and stated, "I know that you have your own particular agenda. I just want you to know that I support you." From the day that we met, I believed that he was highly enlightened on matters of Latino student cultural identity. From November on, I no longer received student reports about the banning of Spanish in the classroom.

In a later discussion, the school counselor, Mrs. Crask, insisted that the restriction upon the Spanish language did not constitute discriminatory treatment. She argued that on the basis that she was African-American, and thus, understood what "real discrimination" was, such treatment toward Latino students did not rise to the level of ethnic discrimination. I insisted that for a linguistic minority member, any effort from the mainstream to diminish the use or maintenance of the ethnic language is perceived as a threat to cultural identity. Mrs. Crask would not hear of it.

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Informal discussions with some personnel regarding Turner's Latino student motivational and behavioral problems invariably turned to what Valencia (1997) has described in The Evolution of Deficit Thinking: Educational Thought and Practice. This is the belief that centers on an individual student's internal deficiencies, which place cognitive and motivational limitations on them, or the possibility that they might come from cultures that do not value education. I introduced the concept of structural barriers to student success at a few informal discussions, or what Davison-Aviles et al. (1999) have called the Empowerment Model, recognizing that both student background and personal characteristics, together with the academic context of the school, are primary factors in school achievement and underachievement. In discussions with school personnel, the puzzle as to why Benito, and other Latino immigrant students, remained so disengaged from the learning process always managed to point to external factors.

For me, such a hostile stance toward the speaking of Spanish, an attack on Latino cultural identity, could not be dismissed as an indicator of cultural insensitivity leading to Latino disengagement and flight. I could understand the reluctance of some of Turner's personnel to admit that they lacked the essential knowledge and understanding of Latino student needs. Those identity-building needs had been disregarded for so long as to border educational negligence. It certainly was not the only factor, but it emerged early on in my observations, as an obvious one.

By mid-year, Benito led a posse of four to six fugitive pupils that regularly escaped the strictures of the school by mid-day. In their view, exploring the brushy wooded area adjacent to the school grounds was far more educational than tolerating the stifling rigidity of the classroom. "Let's see: 'Read pages A through Z silently, then answer worksheet questions' versus run free _,_ and explore the school's natural surroundings!" I had to admit that the outdoor educational experience was far more appealing. The administration at Turner was in a quandary. Conferences with Benito's parents, in school and out of school suspensions, and week long after school cleanups, proved to be wholly ineffective. Only the threat of punitive measures by the campus officer had a nominal impact in swaying their behavior.

In that time span, there could be no long term fix, because most of it was institutional in nature. The degree of backwardness, as it concerned the educational treatment of Latinos, was exacerbated by the mind-numbing "teach to the test" strategy gripping so many low performing schools. Turner Middle would require a virtual overhaul before it could begin to understand the nature and needs of its Latino students. Teacher awareness could start by exposing faculty to an extensive block of socio-historical knowledge as part of ongoing cultural therapy.

I was convinced that the educational goals set forth at Turner did not provide for the bicultural identity development of the Latino community—this being particularly true of the immigrant class. Despite having a predominance of African-American teachers and pupils that, quite likely, have experienced some level of discriminatory treatment in their lifetimes, a sensitivity and respect for the Latino community was not assured. In my opinion, Turner Middle was not a Latino-friendly environment.

On the 27th of September, I fired an opening salvo in defense of Latino student rights with my first greeting in Spanish. All that I had suspected regarding the causes of Latino student flight gained clarity within a few weeks of my arrival. The well-entrenched resistance to change that Dr. Miles spoke of extended to every facet of Turner's culture, including the growing pains associated with a demographic shift toward an increasing Latino enrollment. A small, but substantial, number of faculty and staff were unwilling to concede even the most basic freedoms of expression toward Latino students, that is, the right to speak the home language, under any circumstance, throughout the school day. For Latino youth, Turner Middle was a toxic environment in which their cultural identity faced a constant threat of dissolution.

While some teachers at Turner believed that the use of Spanish by students only impeded their fuller integration into the schooling process, others were simply opposed to it from the perceived threat to their authority or classroom control. The oppressive pedagogue lashed out with mindless insults directed at student ethnic membership, presenting a shift toward the predominant culture as the only pathway for Latino students to follow. At Turner, Latino students first had to dispense with the "undesirable elements" of their ethnic culture, through the filter of the greater African-American community, before being deemed positively oriented toward American society.

With the unexpected arrival of an administrator of ethnic affiliation to them, Latino students experienced their first real taste of freedom to assert themselves, culturally, despite the fear of censure. I avoided responding to several teachers that alluded to the Latino student change in behavior since my arrival. "They have suddenly become bolder and more defiant," one teacher insisted. I knew that many of them were resisting their teacher's attempt to rein-them-in by attacking their cultural heritage.

Some Latino students at Turner lacked the ability to distinguish between true oppressors, and those with altruistic aims. Nonetheless, no Latino, including me, would have felt comfortable in a school in which the Spanish language was ostensibly banned. Liberation theologists, like my professor, Dr. Trueba, would have found Turner Middle a perfect research laboratory for the application of cultural therapy. The undue pressure associated with forcing students to disconnect from one of the two languages central to their developing bicultural identity, coupled with the insistence on pushing them beyond their natural English language acquisition rate, violated practically every modern pedagogical principle known today. The alienated Latino component now perceived a measure of liberation. The freedom to speak the Spanish language, in my presence, was precisely the key that de-shackled them.

The reaction from some of the teachers to my unbridled use of Spanish throughout the facility was interesting. While many, particularly the younger faculty members, were not bothered at all, in some instances, I could see the stone-faced veteran teacher turn toward me in disbelief. It was as if I had pulled the rug right out from underneath them with one single tug. All the work that had been done over the years, and perhaps decades, to deal with obstinate Latino students was immediately compromised.

With Dr. Miles's understanding and support, Turner's approach of placing Latino students onto the conveyor belt of full and aggressive assimilation, often accomplished through discriminatory means, was now exposed to me as the root cause of Latino student discontent and flight to area schools. At Turner Middle, I felt that I was looking back several decades, like an astronomer that looks into deep space to study the origins of the universe. I was getting a glimpse of how Latinos were treated in school when their numbers first swelled throughout the Houston area back in the '70s, and perhaps, well before that time.

**Antidote to Latino Inferiority Complex**

I knew how ethnic group inferiorities worked, and felt. Growing up in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas in the 1970s and early 1980s, I caught the tail-end of a once palpable, anti-Mexican sentiment that had once pervaded regional institutions, and was certainly reflected in schooling practices. I suppose that I did not catch the brunt of it because my immediate and extended family members were non-immigrants. Nonetheless, I had occasionally been exposed to ethnic slurs, and admonishments regarding Spanish language use, mostly directed at the immigrant students in school. I heard stories about the "No Mexicans" sign at the city pool that remained into the mid-1950s. Although I am as much a fan of T. V.'s _Walker, Texas Ranger_ as anyone _,_ there were stories told about the dreaded "Rinches" (Rangers) from the mid-1800s up to the 1930s, who would just as soon hang a Mexican, as look at him (Smith, 1986).

As recounted by some members of the older generation, it was not uncommon for _Los Rinches_ to kidnap and torture innocent Hispano-Mexican citizens in the search for suspected horse thieves and cattle rustlers. The last major " _rinchada—_ a housecleaning by the Rangers" (Harris & Sadler, 2004, p. 3) occurred during the so-called "Bandit War" of 1915-1916, in which several hundred (and possibly several thousand) ethnic Mexicans were lynched or summarily executed along the border. [The movie, _The_ _Ballad of Gregorio Cortez,_ starring Edward James Olmos, depicting a real life drama in Karnes County, Texas in 1901, gives greater insight as to the fears and the injustices faced by the Hispano-Mexican population in that era throughout Texas and possibly, throughout the Southwest (see chapter in Harrin, 2010)].

My aunts, now retired career educators, spoke of the teachers of the late-fifties and mid-sixties that openly questioned the need of Mexican-Americans to complete high school. "The kind of work you will do won't require a college degree," one teacher allegedly said to the class. While it would be unfair to characterize all dominant culture teachers that way, those accounts spoke volumes about greater Anglo-Hispanic relations in those times. As with many Latino community schools of that era, it was not uncommon for school kids to be punished for speaking Spanish on school grounds (see letter from Lucy Zamora, Victoria, Texas in appendix).

I watched one part of a documentary, _The Celts: A Dead Song?_ , describing the English educational policy in the nineteenth and early twentieth century regarding the Welch language. It was reported that in an effort to discourage the use of Welch, a pupil had to wear a string around his neck with a "WN" (Welch Not) written on it. A student could avoid being the wearer by reporting another student that spoke the banned Welch language in class. The pupil wearing the "WN" at the end of the instructional day would receive six strokes of a cane. The ethnic oppression of Welch speakers in English schools was quite similar to the schooling experiences of many ethnic and linguistic minorities in America's early history.

While I had not perceived this level of discrimination throughout my schooling years, it must have been just enough, together with other social cues, to form a negative ethnic self-concept. My dad owned a rural convenience store. On a daily basis, groups of field hands arrived to purchase beverages and snacks. If an Anglo happened to be there, he was ushered to the front of the line, beyond the chattering, likely undocumented, Indian and mestizo workers. For the immigrants, this was the usual apartheid-like treatment from the white class, one that they were already accustomed to throughout Mexico and Latin America.

Hispanics in the Rio Grande Valley started to make significant headway against societal discrimination by the 1960s due to the civil rights movement. They had constituted the majority for decades prior to the latest push for equal status. The social climate had changed gradually, particularly after so many Mexican-American war veterans returned from military service in WWII, Korea, and later, Vietnam, and took advantage of college benefits and business opportunities. My sense of belonging came, in part, from knowledge of the sacrifices and contributions made by cultural and family group members in the armed services.



I thought about the hardships faced by my limited-English-speaking grandfather, Alberto Diaz, during WWI in France. His mother, Elena, had already mourned his death, after receiving word that his troopship, HMS Tuscania, had been sunk by a German U-boat off the Irish coast. There were several hundred soldiers among the dead or missing. Fortunately, only his name on the manifest went down with the ship (Wichita Weekly Times, Feb. 15, 1918). Alberto had fallen ill after departing from New Jersey. He, along with twenty others, was removed at Halifax, Nova Scotia. Upon his recovery, he proceeded to Europe on another ship. In 1919, he returned to a hero's welcome in his hometown of Mission, Texas.

By the late 1940s, Alberto and his oldest son, Jose Eduardo (Lalo), recently discharged from the Navy, pooled their resources to expand upon his modest grocery store/meat market, establishing a thriving business in my hometown. My father, the youngest of Alberto's eight children, participated in after school chores that included the nightly butchering of goats to meet the local demand. Alberto's name "radiated respectability" (R. Ortiz, personal communication, February 14, 1988) as he was recognized by the Anglo establishment and the Hispanic community as an honest and hard-working man _—_ enhanced by the recognition of honorable military service as a Mexican-American war veteran. Even in his final years in the mid-1970s, bedridden and having succumbed to senility, "Mano Beto," as his friends and relatives called him, could be heard humming marching songs under his breath.

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Although I understood our regional "Tex Mex" dialect well, with its abundance of non-standard Spanish, variations of Spanglish, and many Hispanicized Indian words, I rarely spoke it throughout my adolescence and teenage years. Like many Mexican-Americans of my generation, I suspect that I had subconsciously attempted to avoid feelings of ethnic inferiority by speaking English almost exclusively. I understand precisely why so many Latinos, even today, attempt to distance themselves from the development and use of Spanish. Most likely, they suffer from an ethnic inferiority complex like the one that afflicted me throughout my developmental years.

As an educator, I knew that such myopic thinking within the Latino community had to be challenged before a student's full bicultural potential could be achieved. Several fortuitous events in my life had transformed my thinking about the role and importance of ethnic identity in the lives of Latinos in America, and helped turn those insights and experiences into the central tenet of my socio-educational philosophy: "Biliteracy is the Key to Student Success."

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The antidote to my ethnic inferiority complex came purely by chance. After high school, I joined the Army. About mid-way through my enlistment, I requested a change of assignment to a new duty station. My company commander, Captain Don Key, known for being an egomaniac, promised that no one under his command would receive an approval for transfer to another duty station short of re-enlistment or extension. When I entered his office and saluted, the officer was on the phone. He recognized the document and "shot the bird" at me mid-sentence. Once finished with his conversation, he grumbled, "WHAT DO YOU WANT?" I humbly stated, "Well sir, I prefer that you approve my request." His adjutant officer, a female lieutenant, began to snicker, having witnessed many similar failed attempts by other personnel.

Although the captain checked off the "disapproved" box, military regulations permitted me to send the request to the Department of the Army (DA). Next, I circumvented the official channels and contacted the reassignment office in Washington, D. C. for direct assistance. My former NCOIC (Non-Commissioned Officer In-Charge) had given me a direct number to that branch in the event that I should attempt to relocate. I took his advice. I made the unauthorized call when no other company member was present. I explained my circumstances to the civilian to whom my call was transferred. I told her about my company commander's unreasonable demands. She only stated, "Just submit your paperwork. I'll handle it."

Ten weeks later, upon our battalion's return to Ft. Riley, Kansas from field exercises in the Mojave Desert, I received orders for a new assignment. I was going to the Panama Canal Zone. The DA representative placed a code on my transfer order that prevented the company commander from rescinding it. I pretended to be unaware when I was called urgently to the captain's office. He yelled angrily, "DI-AZ!! I don't know how you did it. GET DOWN AND PUSH!" Joyously, but containing a smile, I squeezed out one push-up after another. A few days later, I called the DA representative once again. "I can't thank you enough!" I said. I told her about my company commander's reaction upon receiving my transfer orders. I could hear her laughing as we ended our conversation.

I spent a week with my family in the Rio Grande Valley before boarding a plane for the first leg of my journey to Panama. As I walked through the airport in Miami, I treaded carefully from one terminal to the next. I was looking-out for a message carrying Army official. I expected that my former company commander, being a vindictive man, would attempt to fulfill his promise to reject all personnel transfers. I had known a light-wheeled mechanic in the company, whose transfer order was rescinded while he was home in Nebraska, en route to a new duty station in Alaska. His father, a retired Sergeant Major, used his connections to overrule the company commander several months after his son was obligated to return to duty at Ft. Riley. While I had enjoyed my time and experiences in Kansas, I preferred not to spend my whole enlistment there. Once off of the Miami International tarmac, my heart rate finally normalized.

**Ethnic Awakening Begins**

Upon my arrival in Panama City's Torrijos (now Tocumen) International Airport, the ability to understand Spanish was an instant asset. Although I could only engage in limited conversations due to my lack of fluency, I had an opportunity to develop my ethnic language every time that I stepped off the Army base. Even with the linguistic advantage that I had over most of the monolingual American servicemen, it took me several weeks in order to gain enough confidence to initiate a conversation with Panamanians.

First, I had to re-acclimate, and regain my bearing. My internal compass had been thrown out of kilter due to the Central American geography. Although Panama City was situated along the Bay of Panama on the Pacific coast, I was dumbfounded as the sun rose over the ocean. I reasoned, "This must be the Caribbean Sea toward the east!?" From my location, the sun was, in fact, rising from a corner of the Pacific Ocean, and setting toward the Caribbean. Today, I can look at the map, and see why this is so. The Isthmus of Panama undulates like a sea serpent, east to west, creating a pocket, the Gulf of Panama. The Panama Canal runs roughly along a line running northwest to southeast.

Upon my arrival, I began to examine issues of my self-identity. Although I had been exposed to the Spanish language all of my life, with family members and friends, through church attendance, and television and radio programs, I realized that I was far from literate in it. I could recall the first time that I picked up a local newspaper at a bus stop on Avenida Anc _ó_ n in Panama City. I was overjoyed that I could, nonetheless, read and understand the majority of the text.

The Spanish language had reversed its social status and polarity—from ambiguous to highly positive. With many of my Army companions anxiously trying to learn Spanish, my perception of the advantages of bilingualism over monolingualism grew. Soon afterward, I began to regard the lack of native language development in Latino community schools as faulty and shortsighted thinking. I was undergoing an ethnic concept transformation from the moment that I stepped onto Panamanian soil.

Panamanians often referred to me as a "gringo!" They used the term in reference to nationality rather than ethnicity. I perceived that through Spanish language use, I could interface with the local population as an insider instead of a detached American visitor. While many Panamanians spoke English due to a century of American presence there, and with many of its black population originating from English-speaking, Caribbean islands during the canal-building era, the Spanish language was the primary key to understanding their thinking and way of life.

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As I reflected more on my schooling years, I began to conclude that my experience had been a less-than culturally reaffirming one. I deduced this in light of the fact that my educational experience had failed to promote Spanish language fluency in a border region of Texas that naturally favors its development. The Rio Grande Valley's geographical proximity to Mexico, alone, should have necessitated that its residents develop linguistic skills in both English and Spanish. I considered the social and political factors that could have remained so compelling in ensuring a proper American education that they continue to impede the bicultural identity-building needs of many Valley school-age youth to the present day. The importance of language maintenance and development in enhancing student academic performance, college-readiness, and professional goal attainment, took a back seat to the re-socialization effort directed at the immigrant class. Therefore, the self-actualization that comes for Latinos when literacy in both languages is achieved was left to chance from an educational standpoint.

My rudimentary Spanish-speaking skills were allowed to stand at the doorstep of literacy throughout my schooling years. There, those valuable linguistic and cultural resources were permitted to "wither on the vine." The prevailing cultural assimilation philosophy had conspired against the Valley's Hispano-Mexican community to deny us the many lifelong benefits of biliteracy. Today, much more is known about the cognitive advantages that bilingualism (in any language combination) affords, and even its association with the prevention of Alzheimer's in the twilight years, but in the '70s and '80s, that research was in its early development. The politics of immigrant re-socialization prevented the Spanish language from flourishing. There was sometimes talk about "the Balkanization of America" and references to Quebec's French speakers by the ultra-conservative faction—all driven by the fear of change due to a growing Latino population.

I was fairly certain that the same negative socio-educational experiences were a recurring theme for Hispanics/Latinos throughout Texas, the Southwest, and other regions of the USA. From the Panama Canal, I could now understand that the maintenance and development of our native language, along with English, could have yielded far greater educational opportunities for so many people, over many generations. We were taught to view our cultural identity in terms of a dichotomy, with English-speaking monolingualism and monoculturalism being promoted as the most beneficial socio-academic outcome for schooling purposes, the proverbial, American "Road to Success," and the other possibility, bilingualism and biculturalism, being of negligible value. Mainstream education had not fully grasped the true and complex nature of Latino identity in America, and the benefits derived from native language maintenance. Primarily for this reason, only one half of our bicultural existence was recognized and supported educationally.

With every new Spanish word and phrase that I learned in Panama, I had a growing sense of pride in my bilingual competence. The inherent worth of my ethnic language was validated even through seemingly unimportant communications. For instance, I recall a company member, signaling me over, and asking me to relay a message to his new female acquaintance: ¿"[Felipe] quiere saber si estás libre este fin de semana"? (Philip wants to know if you are free this weekend?) I had a sense of being valued for my ability to provide a communicative link, a cultural and linguistic bridge to the local population. This perception stood in contrast to an ambiguous ethnic self-perception tied to Spanish language use while growing up in Texas. In Panama, even the underdeveloped Spanish language that I spoke had transformed from a badge of inferiority to an instant source of positive ethnic self-regard.

One evening, about a year into my Panama experience, I was on _Calle J_ with an Army buddy when we ran into some Marines on a weekend pass from jungle warfare training. They said that they would be returning to Camp Lejeune shortly. I volunteered to give them a tour that evening since I was, by then, familiar with the popular locations. I took them in the direction of some of the upscale clubs on Vía Espa _ñ_ a. When we saw that there was a long line waiting to get in, I hatched a plan: "Just follow me, and pretend like we were already inside. Don't look at the bouncer!" All six or seven of us got inside without a hitch. A few of us were at the bar toasting our free entry, while others had asked some girls out to the dance floor. One Marine came to me and announced, "I think that I just saw Roberto Duran over there!" "Let me check," I responded.

Sure enough, world-class boxer Roberto Duran, "Las Manos de Piedra" (Hands of Stone) was seated at one corner of the club with five or six tough looking guys surrounding him. I assume that they were his friends and bodyguards. I asked the Marines, "Do you all want to meet Roberto?" "Yeah, man! Let's do it!" I said, "Okay guys, form a line." We moved within ten paces of Roberto, and then stopped. I stepped out a couple of feet ahead of them. I raised my hand to signal one of member of Roberto's entourage. When he acknowledged me, I said, "Los gringos quieren felicitar a Roberto." (The gringos want to congratulate Roberto).

I heard that he had come out of retirement, and was scheduled to fight a Colombian boxer that weekend. I concluded that since he was out on the town celebrating, he must have been victorious. He must have taken a beating though, judging by his stupor. He slowly turned toward us and gave an expressionless nod of agreement. I then turned back to the file of Marines and instructed, "Just say '¡Felicidades!' That means congratulations." One after another, each of us gave Roberto Duran a handshake. After leaving that club, I took them to a place called La Gruta Azul (The Blue Cave). Those young Marines got quite an unforgettable experience that night out in Panama City.

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When I returned from Panama after nearly two years, speaking Spanish with greater fluency, one of my astounded relatives exclaimed, "You don't speak Spanish!" I responded, "I do now!!" I had undergone an ethnic identity transformation of sorts. I now viewed the Spanish language in a much more favorable light, and with that, its speakers as well. I had come to regard Spanish language development as the surest antidote to Latino ethnic inferiority complex. My exposure to a positive ethnic self–perception for nearly two years was a gift of cultural therapy that Uncle Sam had bestowed. With just one travel experience out of the USA, Mark Twain's famous quote became a truism for me. He tells us,

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and

many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad,

wholesome, and charitable views of men and things cannot be

acquired by vegetating in one corner of the earth all one's lifetime.

Shortly after my return, I enrolled at a central Texas university. I decided to maximize the educational benefits of second language knowledge by choosing Spanish as a minor. By CLEP (College Level Examination Program) testing out of the basic coursework in the foreign language requirement, I shortened my bachelor's degree plan by 17 hours. The development of communicative skills

in Spanish allowed me to hurdle over much of my sophomore year. I was able to graduate in three and a half years with a B. A. in Environmental Studies, an interest that piqued in Panama as I observed the remnants of a once vast rainforest. I was intrigued with the potential climatic consequences of deforestation, and especially, its impact on wildlife, after completing the JOTC (Jungle Operations Training Center) course at Ft. Sherman. There, my squad and I saw spider monkeys and howlers, a huge boa constrictor more than the thickness of my leg, and a fer-de-lance that casually slid over the boot of the guy in front of me **.** We were even certain that we caught a glimpse of large cat species, possibly a jaguar, judging by its coloration.

While enrolled at the university, I became aware that Spanish was America's preferred second language among college going students. As cultural mainstream students met their school's foreign language requirement through Spanish language development, the Latino community was rarely encouraged to develop their home language for academic purposes. This college credit value further convinced me that the Spanish language should be recognized as a linguistic asset in Latino community schools, as a resource to increase the probability of secondary and post-secondary completion. The average Latino student, even one with minimal communicative ability in Spanish, possesses untapped college credit in meeting the foreign language requirement of most colleges or universities. Using late elementary and early middle school foreign language credit as a motivational factor for school completion could considerably increase Latino academic self-concept.

" **Strong Trees Need Strong Roots"**

In my first year at Southwest Texas State University (now Texas State University) in San Marcos, I had a paper to write in my freshman English class. A genealogical self-discovery was sparked by my professor's unexpected topic: "Tell about your family history, together with your personal experiences, and your goals for the future." This writing assignment would help me connect the dots in an opaque historical and cultural Hispanic portrait of the pre-Anglo Texas era. I entitled my paper "Strong Trees Need Strong Roots," a quote made by my uncle regarding the research on our ancestor, Captain Blas María de la Garza-Falcón, of Corpus Christi's _Friendship Monument_ fame. Dr. Clotilde García, a

renowned pediatrician and author from Corpus Christi, had written about this early Texas figure. My uncle, Blas María de la Garza-Lopez, Ed. D. (his namesake) encouraged me to further explore our family's early history in the making of South Texas ranch culture. This rediscovery of family and cultural group history sparked my interest in examining other hidden knowledge regarding the Hispano-Mexican group's early participation in the making of Texas culture, and the American historical portrait as well.

With this early university-level learning experience, I was able to take a vague contention made by some family members, "We were here [in Texas] before the Anglos," and incorporate it to my ethnic identity. The genealogical self-discovery resulting from my English class assignment, along with the native language redevelopment initiated in Panama, now combined to produce a quasi-cathartic effect. The Hispano-Mexican culture, and the Spanish language that transmitted it, were inextricable parts of the modern Texas cultural foundation. I wanted others, particularly young members of the Hispanic/Latino culture, to benefit from my self-discoveries, realizations, and experiences.

I decided that I could best achieve this by entering the teaching field. Although I had not yet achieved native-like fluency in Spanish, I met the criteria to enter the field of education as a bilingual education teacher. I was told by the school district recruiter that Latinos with bachelor's degrees were hard to come by. In my classes filled with Limited English Proficiency (now English language learner) Latino immigrants, I went to work immediately in presenting a more-balanced perspective in history. I wanted to prevent some of the negative beliefs that I had been susceptible to in my schooling years—which had undoubtedly been reinforced by a lack of Hispanic/Latino social, cultural, and historical knowledge.

I knew that some educators would scoff at my insistence that native language maintenance could somehow be beneficial to all Latinos—particularly the immigrants. I was occasionally reminded that my primary role as a bilingual teacher was to help students transition into English-only environments as soon as possible. My experience in the Panama Canal Zone militated against that notion. I continued to regard that philosophical perspective as uninformed, obsolete, and ultimately, damaging to Latino students. My personal experience told me that the de-emphasis of the Spanish language for Latinos could have a harmful long-term academic and individual impact as a natural consequence of a weakened cultural identity.

In my history lessons, I openly challenged mainstream portrayals that overlooked Hispanic/Latino contributions, especially as I focused on the pre-Anglo American and pre-Columbian (before Columbus's arrival) era. My students came to understand the implications of their racial and ethnic heritage by way of these non-traditional historical accounts. I complemented the mainstream perspective of American history by presenting Hispanic cultural perspectives as well. I purposely dwelt upon topics such as the Spanish language place names of cities and towns, some with such comical mispronunciations such as "Re Feur ee o" (Refugio) or "Pal ash us" (Palacios), or rivers, "Braz uz" (Brazos) or "Gwad a loop ee" (Guadalupe), and geographical areas and features in the Southwest USA, such as Arizona, Grand Canyon, or Sierra Nevada.

One of my grade-level teachers remarked, "Won't presenting them non-traditional history confuse the students!?" We were discussing Don Juan de O _ñ_ ate's expedition in 1598, and the "Thanksgiving in April" that is celebrated in El Paso

—pre-dating the traditional American celebration by twenty-three years. I responded, "One of my professors once said, 'History is never written in stone! Historical portrayals can be amended as new artifacts and archival data are uncovered.' " I added, "Besides that, only history teachers with twenty-year-old lesson plans consider all new evidence 'revisionist _'_!"

In my portrayals, I acknowledged the devastating consequences to the native people that came in the wake of Spanish exploration and settlement (Horwitz, 2008). My Latino immigrant students were confounded by my insistence that those with predominantly Amerindian genetic makeup were _Americans_ simply by virtue of their ancestry. Their roots on this continent dated possibly as far back as the end of the last Ice Age—estimated at 14,000 years ago. Our Latino Amerindian ancestors, along with millions of other inhabitants, occupied the western hemisphere at the time that Columbus landed in the Bahamas.

Due to the linguistic connection to Utes, Shoshones, and Comanches, it is widely accepted that the last comers to the central Mexican plateau, the Aztecs, began their journey from the American Desert Southwest in the mid-1100s. However, few people may realize that the ancestors of all of Mexico's fifty-six Indian language-speaking groups also gravitated south from the lands now presently found in the USA—in migrations spanning thousands of years.

Our Amerindian ancestors came across the land bridge known as Beringia like every other Native American group. Having ancient roots in the Americas is one attribute that differentiates mainland Latino immigrants from every other immigrant group that has come to the USA. Most members of the mainland Latino community—among them the nation's newest immigrants—have clearly discernible Amerindian features—confirming that mainland Latinos descend, primarily, from the earliest inhabitants of the western hemisphere [see _National Geographic_ January 2015 article "How a Tiny 12,000-Year Old Teenager Became the First American"]. Latinos with prominent Amerindian racial makeup can rest-assured that they are among the truest of Americans—as individuals with ten thousand-plus years of continental inhabitation in the Americas.

The connection between contemporary immigration of Mexico's and Central America's indigenous and largely mestizo (mixed Euro-native) populations and the consequences of oppression and exploitation in Latin America for centuries is undeniable. The families of the immigrant children that I taught, most of whom occupied the lowest socio-economic stratum in their homeland, embodied the highest attributes of the human spirit. Although often mischaracterized as having less noble motives for coming to the USA, the majority of Latino immigrants, like every other immigrant group throughout American history, only wish to break from a cycle of abject poverty, persecution, and exploitation, by any means, including illegal migration.

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My students were aware of one instance in which I, upon hearing about a coach's discriminatory remark, went out during my break-time to seek clarification. I had prepared my students for this inevitable consequence of native language use by relating some of my schooling experiences. I had earlier expressed to my students that the only way to effectively counter ethnic discrimination was to openly challenge it. That day had finally come. Perhaps, in my mediating role as student rights advocate, I said:

I know that you did not intend to insult my students from an

ethnic perspective, but I can assure you that saying 'Don't speak

Spanish!'–even with the most honorable of intentions, is

a slap in the face to all of us that speak it.

She explained that some students had been disobedient, leaving her no choice. The coach had a befuddled look, as if to be thinking, "How do they ever expect to learn English!?"

Later, possibly in the following year, another student came by with a similar experience to relate to me. This time, it was a substitute teacher in the cafeteria that had committed the same offense. Unwisely, I left my class unattended as my agitation began to crest. Coming across the assistant principal in the hallway, I explained, in as kind a demeanor as possible, "A substitute in the cafeteria told my kids 'Don't speak Spanish!' I just wanted to get a chance to enlighten her about the potential harm of such statements." The instantly exasperated assistant principal then asked, "Do YOU want to tell her?!" I believe that she expected that I would lose my nerve and back off. "I'll be happy to!" I responded. I could tell how uncomfortable she was, judging by her reddened and serious-looking face, when she opened the door to the teacher's lounge and politely asked the female substitute to step out. She said, "Mr. Diaz has a concern." I stated, "One of my students reported that they felt offended when you said 'Don't speak Spanish!' . . ."

Actually, I was probably more offended than my students were. I could only imagine what was going on in her mind, but her glare said it all. Knowing that my students may have been disrespectful or disobedient toward her, especially as a substitute, I gave her the benefit of the doubt, that she had intended no harm. Nonetheless, she had resorted to the indiscriminate, daisy-cutter of anti-Latino remarks—one that stings the face of every Spanish-speaker within earshot, young and old alike, like that triple-slap that the _Three Stooges_ used to do.

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In 1992, Friendship Monument was dedicated on Shoreline Boulevard in Corpus Christi. My family members and I made a pilgrimage to the site shortly afterward **.** By our crude calculations, Captain Blas María de la Garza-Falcón was our sixth great grandfather—on my mother's side of the family. The total number of descendants associated with those early Hispano-Mexican colonists of northern Nuevo Santander was hard to estimate, perhaps numbering in the tens of thousands today, throughout the USA. As I read the inscription at the base of the monument, my family's history in Texas and the USA unfolded before me.

I considered the geographical extent of Hispanic culture into what is now the USA during the captain's lifetime. Approximately three-fifths of the "lower forty-eight" were part of Nueva Espa _ñ_ a (New Spain) at some point in American history. The territory of "Luisiana" was under Spanish jurisdiction before, during, and after American Independence—from 1762 through 1803. Today, Spanish language street signs, such as _Calle de Borb_ ó _n_ (Bourbon Street) in the French Quarter of New Orleans, are a testament of the city's Hispanic influence. Louisiana's governor at the time of America's struggle for independence, Bernardo de Gálvez, was later honored in the naming of Galveston. This acknowledged Spain's little known role in achieving American independence.

Only the true Native Texan, individuals of predominantly aboriginal blood, had much longer roots in Texas than those of my mixed heritage. The descendants of the earlier Hispanic colonists of the Tejas province, such as the Canary Island descendants of San Antonio (1731), and anyone associated with presidios and missions scattered throughout colonial Texas, also predated the Hispanic expeditions and settlements of upper Nuevo Santander. The land between the Rio Bravo del Norte (Rio Grande) and the Nueces River had been colonized by a group of Hispanic settlers led by Captain Blas María de la Garza-Falcón. My relatives' claim was confirmed that some branches of our family "did not come to the USA," but rather, it was the USA that "came to us."

Although many Tejanos supported, and fought alongside Anglos in the Texas independence effort in 1836, most portrayals of the Hispano-Mexican community's role over-simplified a much more complex socio-historical relationship. In the re-telling of the Battle of the Alamo, and the atrocities committed at Goliad, the

ethnic Mexican community was depicted as being solely responsible for the death of some of the iconic figures in Texan mythology such as Fannin, Crockett, Bowie, and Travis. In providing a balanced perspective for an arguably one-sided depiction, I would tell my students:

Yes, it is true that the early Mexican government was unstable and

_corrupt, but always remember that, in history_ , _the truth usually lies_

_somewhere in the middle._ . . . _Imagine Santa Anna's largely_

conscripted, Indian and mestizo peasant army, forced to march to

Texas from central Mexico in an effort to prevent a land grab by the

United States after many of her citizens, such as the Old Three

Hundred, were welcomed openly with land grants into the northern

_half of the new republic_ (Murphy, 2003) _._

Political concerns and events leading to Texas independence were not as simple as they were sometimes presented in the classroom, that is—Mexicans versus Anglos. A portal to historical knowledge had opened up at the foot of Friendship Monument, and I had momentarily glimpsed visions of the past that did not fit neatly with my school-age conceptualization of Texas and American history. As I walked back to my vehicle, I had the greatest sense of inherent belonging and

rootedness. I belonged to the ground under my feet, as much as any other predominantly non-Native American ethnic culture or race in America could claim.

Captain Blas María de la Garza-Falcón and many other Hispano-Mexican colonists were already in northern Nuevo Santander, albeit not part of modern Texas, during America's colonial era. When those pre-independence Texas boundaries at the Nueces River were extended to the Rio Grande by 1848 in an even more flagrant American land grab (Thom, 2006), the Hispano-Mexican people in the upper portion of Nuevo Santander became "Texans."

Before me, Friendship Monument stood as clear evidence that my exposure to Texas and American history as an adolescent left many stones unturned _._ Hispano-Mexican contributions in the historical and cultural portrait of Texas, and the USA, had been reduced to a few footnotes in the curriculum, greatly overshadowed by the modern portrayal of Latinos as America's perpetual immigrant group.

**A Greater Epiphany Unfolds**

With this newly confirmed cultural group knowledge, I redoubled my effort to present non-traditional history to my students. Even as I strayed from the mainstream curricular perspective, the ancient historical connection to the majority of my Latino students remained largely unexplored. One afternoon, while watering the school's garden, one of my students pointed to an object that had been placed nearby. A hand carved figure of an

Indian deity, presumably the god of agriculture judging by the corncob in its hands, had come to rest there.

I brought it into the school to show teachers what my students and I had found. Some of them were horrified, as if to consider this representation of Latin American aboriginal culture an abominably evil omen. This intricately carved woodwork with the name "Yum Kax" inscribed on its back was obviously of Mayan origin, I suspected, either from Guatemala, Belize, or the Yucatán in Mexico, a curiosity that must have been made by the tourist industry there.

My mind's eye was again transported to another time in the history of the western hemisphere, but much further back—that of Ancient Mesoamerica. I believe that, at that moment, I experienced a greater epiphany regarding the educational needs of Latino youth. I asked myself, "Is it possible to fully serve Latino students, as any culturally distinct group, without a firm understanding of their unique history and cultural heritage? Could those horrified teachers possibly understand that many of the pupils facing him or her, everyday, could be the descendants of the indigenous people that developed some of the most advanced Mesoamerican civilizations? Did anyone realize that my immigrant students were connecting symbolically to their ancient cultures as they tended the corn, beans, and squash in the school's garden?"

It was, after all, the aboriginal ancestors of the mainland Latino that first cultivated those crops thousands of years ago. Now, Yum Kax was staring me in the face. He seemed to be saying: "Do not forget to teach your students about their bloodline and heritage that descends from the aboriginal race as part of your 'more inclusive' Hispanic perspective." I could envision my great-grandmother Elena,

Alberto's mother, in a picture I had seen as a young adult, obviously of Amerindian race, some say Mixteca, others say Chihuahua Apache, with her machete affixed to her hip. As a single mother, she sold firewood to support her children.

I realized the extent to which the traditional depiction of American history met the nationality-building and general American cultural identity needs of Latino students, but wholly ignored other aspects of their self-identity such as ethnicity and race. Even a turn toward a block of Hispanic heritage did not fully provide a sense of inherent belonging that comes with knowledge of the predominant racial origin of the mainland Latino student. The historical and cultural knowledge that I imparted would have left my students with the understanding that the majority of mainland Latinos trace their genealogical history to Siberia _,_ more so than Iberia _._

I knew how thorny the issue of race was within Latino culture, with deeply embedded racial inferiorities afflicting many mestizo, and Indian-blooded individuals, as a direct consequence of centuries of discriminatory treatment in their homeland, only to be reinforced in contact with Anglo America. For this reason, few mixed-race mainland Latinos truly embrace their indigenous heritage—much less African ancestry. As a history teacher, I had to set the record as straight as possible, even with such an uncomfortable topic that race might pose for many Latinos. Ignoring these issues only perpetuated the problem of pervasive aboriginal racial denial among many Hispano-Mexican and other mainland Latino groups.

I knew that the history curriculum, perhaps more than any school subject matter, provided the raw knowledge that serves as the building blocks of self-identity: "Who am I? How do I fit in?" The history component is responsible, in part, for providing a sense of belonging, rootedness, and contribution in the making of modern society. I felt that the history curriculum in Latino community schools should, therefore, be well-grounded in that group's history and culture, as well as mainstream perspectives, in order to provide an accurate and balanced understanding. I asked myself, "What hope is there that the average mainstream teacher is aware of these important identity-building ethnic and racial perspectives regarding their Latino students?" As a history teacher, I could envision the ancestors of most mainland Latino students from a time in the Americas when

extinct megafauna roamed the land—thousands of years before the evolution of advanced Amerindian cultures.

During a trip to the minor Mayan site of San Gervasio on Cozumel, I discovered that Yum Kax was commonly spelled Yum Kaax, and pronounced "Ka-ash." He was not the deity of agriculture or corn, but rather the god of the land, forest, and its animals and plants. That is what Jorge, a trustworthy Mayan-speaking cab driver, explained to me. Yum Kaax had appeared precisely at the time when I was considering how to best promote this level of historical inquiry in my students.

¡ **"Ni Papas"!** — **Learning Opportunity Denied**

My concern for the socio-academic well-being of immigrant Latinos prompted me to seek a middle school ESL position in the 2000-2001 school year. I was interested in exploring the educational experience of those students that had arrived in the latter stages of elementary school, but had not been able to exit from bilingual education within that limited timeframe. My desire to understand this was initiated by my participation in an ethnographic research study on academically successful Asian and Latino immigrants in the Houston area. One of the first students that I met at my new school was Wilmer Ventura, a seventh-grade student of Honduran origin.

Wilmer arrived in the second half of the previous school year. "Vine a este país de mojado. **"** (I came to this country as a wetback.) He recounted the experience of trekking through the South Texas chaparral, looking out for snakes and scorpions, and the Border Patrol, as he laid low in the brush. ¿"Donde cruzaste a los estados unidos"? (Where did you cross into the United States?) We went to the map, and he identified the region directly south of Falfurrias. He recalled the border city of Reynosa, Mexico. ¿"Vale la pena cruzar con tanto peligro"? (Is it worth the trouble to cross with so much danger?) "Si, esta mejor acá". (Yes, it's better here.) Given Wilmer's recollection of the intense poverty in Honduras, the hardships and dangers that he had faced were, by his estimation, worth enduring. Turning to academics, I inquired, ¿"Que aprendiste en la clase de historia el a _ñ_ o pasado"? (What did you learn in history class last year?) He responded, ¡"Ni papas"! (Not even potatoes!) He said that he had not been able to understand much, naturally, since his teachers knew no Spanish. Wilmer had only learned what a few bilingual classmates were able to explain to him. Although he had been afforded some ESL teacher assistance in language arts and science, history class was virtually a sink or swim experience for the immigrant Latinos.

Although I was now an ESL teacher, and no longer employed in the transitional bilingual education model, I knew that my students were more likely to demonstrate an understanding of subject matter when permitted to use their home language. While we read most of the reading material in English, we engaged in class discussions in both English and Spanish. My students then completed the lesson cycle by writing about (Schmoker, 2011), and then sharing, what they had learned that day—in the language of their choice. My philosophical perspective was quickly opposed by some faculty members that happened to walk by my classroom and hear "an excessive use of Spanish." They believed that the native language was often used as a crutch to keep students in a state of helplessness. I told team members at one of our meetings, "The reliance on ESL methods does not preclude their greater need for concept formation." By my estimation, those well-meaning ESL practitioners had erroneously concluded that every waking moment of the school day should be used to force English production. I considered this pure nonsense.

In one incident demonstrating ESL teacher fanaticism, a few of my students had been allowed to have lunch in my classroom as an incentive for good behavior, good class work, or both. I turned the "educational monitor" on. My students then selected the channel that they wished to view while we enjoyed our twenty minute lunch period. Out of the hallway entered the senior ESL teacher. She stormed directly to the television, pushed the on/off switch, then wheeled around, and in an exasperated and angry tone, she reprimanded my students, ¡"NO MAS NOVELAS! (No more soap operas!) ENGLISH, ENGLISH!!" She shot out of my classroom as abruptly as she had come in. My students burst out in laughter due to her outrageous and comical behavior. One student asked, "Can I turn it back on?" I responded, "Yes, you may." By the end of the year, the ESL department head made a suggestion that perhaps a nearby school, Jacobson Middle, might be a better match for me given my philosophical orientation.

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I had been trained to understand that the most successful academic interactions between teacher and student should be viewed as an "understanding and communicating of meaning" (Moll, 1990, p. 8). My former professor, Dr. Trueba, insisted that teachers that understood Vygotsky's _Zone of Proximal Development_ should adopt culturally and linguistically meaningful strategies "that allowed students to engage in their own development, to invest in their cultural and linguistic capital, and to advance without prejudice" (Trueba, 1999, p. 141). In history and science instruction, for example, my first priority was not English language development, but in ensuring adequate concept formation. For Latino immigrant students, prior knowledge, best articulated in their native language, was critical to the scaffolding (Willis, 2000) process that led to greater cognitive development.

As a part of the university ethnographic research project, my fellow assistant researchers and I participated in a conference sponsored by our principal investigators, Dr. Trueba, and Dr. Zou of the Asian-American studies program. At that conference, in February of 2000, I took my nerve-wracking turn before an audience of eminent researchers in the field of educational anthropology such as George Spindler, Peter McLaren, Harry Wolcott, David Smith, Phil Carspecken, and many other distinguished scholars. I thanked my co-principal investigators, mentioning my gratitude for participation in the ongoing "Truebian" (with a play on the French words " _tr_ _è_ _s bien_ **"** ) research experience. My preliminary findings were as follows:

Early data analysis in the present study finds compelling evidence

_to support_ _the opinion that respondents in the study view language_

and cultural maintenance as an integral aspect of their cultural

identity. In the absence of Spanish language fluency, high

_achieving Latino students express regret and_ _even shame. They_

_often portray their lack of Spanish language fluency in_ _terms of a_

social stigma. ... The preliminary data analysis in the present study

suggests that a strong ethnic identity is positively correlated to

_academic success among_ [the community's] _high-achieving Latino_

_population, and that_ _it manifests itself in the form of language and_

_cultural maintenance_ (Diaz, 2008, p. 81).

After the final presentation by our team members, we had a few minutes to intermingle with those top ethnographers and audience members. One particular school ethnographer in attendance, Rice University's Dr. Angela Valenzuela, recommended that I acquaint myself with her research at a predominately Latino, inner-city high school. Her thought provoking book, Subtractive Schooling: U. S.-Mexican Youth and the Politics of Caring (1999), continues to represent the most

accurate description of the educational experience of Latinos that I had observed as a bilingual and ESL teacher. Dr. Valenzuela affirms,

_From the vantage point of Seguin's culture of caring, an aesthetic or technical definition prevails with devastating consequences to regular-track youth. . . .[I]t also obliges youth to participate in a power evasive, culturally chauvinistic framework that individualizes students' difficulties with schooling while larger structural issues like the school's subtractive curriculum go unnoticed_ (p. 263).

Dr. Valenzuela's insightful analysis allowed me to understand the underlying causes of widespread disaffection in the Latino schooling experience. As an assistant principal, I was convinced that the level of disengagement and misconduct that I would find at Jacobson Middle was linked to its _subtractive schooling_ environment. Dr. Valenzuela explains, "Rather than building upon students' cultural and linguistic knowledge and heritage to create biculturally and bilingually competent youth, schools subtract these identifications from them to their social and academic detriment" (p. 25).

**The Ethnographic Study**

Although I had not fully processed the data that I collected as an assistant researcher at the culminating stage of the study, the voices of the respondents kept swirling in my mind. One of the Latino students in the study stated with dismay, "It's really hard when you're Hispanic, and you can't speak Spanish well. At school, Hispanics call me white, and whites call me—an ethnic slur" (Diaz, 2008, p. 119). I could relate to the respondent's angst resulting from his inability to fully reconcile the benefits of his education versus the loss to his self-identity that had occurred. In most cases, the recurring theme among the most academically successful Latino respondents was a sense of pride in their bicultural identity—evidenced by both English and Spanish language fluency.

In one interview in the home setting, one Mexican-origin immigrant parent weighed in on the importance of language maintenance for Latinos: [translated from Spanish]

I think it is very important—and your question intrigues me. It

_may have caused many of them_ [immigrant Latinos] _not to_

assimilate well, because in their school, and with their friends,

everything is in English. . . .Yes, it is very important to put emphasis

_on managing the Spanish language—aside from English_ (Diaz, p.

137).

Proudly, he then asked his sons to respond to my next question in Spanish. The high-achieving student in the study joined in our Spanish language conversation. His oldest brother, a recent Harvard graduate, sat alongside his second sibling—who was nearing the completion of his degree at Harvard as well. Their father and mother, each with less than a secondary level education in Mexico, were adamant that the maintenance of the ethnic culture, and particularly, their native language, was a factor that had positively influenced their children's educational success.

By the end of my participation in the three-year study on academically successful students, I was convinced that schools often compounded Latino educational difficulties due to their emphasis on full cultural assimilation. Quite arguably, America's most successful immigrants, various middle and far-eastern Asian cultural groups represented in the study—Chinese, Vietnamese, Indian, Pakistani among them, rarely subscribed to this philosophy. Instead, they wholeheartedly embraced a pattern of sociocultural adaptation known as _Accommodation without Assimilation_ (Gibson, 1988). The Asian-origin immigrant respondents held similar convictions that ethnic identity preservation was central to their children's academic and lifelong success. Ethnic language maintenance ensured that the family's core value system remained intact throughout their children's social and academic development.

When I considered Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs as a framework for understanding student success, the self-esteem factor resulting from a positive ethnic self-identity (Level IV) was clearly associated with native language maintenance in the home. Both Asian and Latino respondents reported that the maintenance of ethnic identity had positively influenced their academic self-concept. As a school practitioner, the implication of these findings was great. I believed that the Latino community schools in which I taught could capitalize on this knowledge by recognizing and promoting ethnic identity development to the fullest.

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In April 13, 2001, I responded to an editorial in the Houston Chronicle by the President of the League of Women Voter's. In _Problems with Bilingual Education now Clearer_ , she asserted, "There is a need for more English development," and "student language and culture should be left to the home and other institutions." I responded,

I can think of no better 'institution' than the school to promote this

specialized learning environment. [C]ulture and language cannot be

_checked-in like baggage at the_ _airport. These work together_ —

_essentially to permit the individual_ _to make sense of his reality,_

_whether at the supermarket or in the_ _classroom. . . . I challenge_ [the

president] _to find one second-generation Latino that does not speak_

English.

I was compelled to respond due to my concern that many teachers might agree with her findings, and continue to deny Latino students important bicultural identity-building opportunities. Other readers might buy into the notions of cultural assimilation without the knowledge that a much more beneficial variation of social adaptation exists. Latino community members, along with many other linguistic minority groups, have derived greater social and academic benefits from accommodation _,_ rather than assimilation _._

Parents in Latino community schools like Jacobson could be convinced that educators must know best when they touted English development as a cure-all. I have often heard educators advising Latino parents, "Take them to the library to read more English!" but rarely recommending that native language is important enough to maintain as well. Today, there is little doubt that literacy development in two languages—English and Spanish—greatly exceeds the academic benefit of literacy in English alone. In terms of the purported goal of college and career readiness, the incompatibility of an English-only education in meeting Jacobson's secondary and post-secondary goals is easily discerned. On this topic, Officer Douglas, Jacobson Middle's former campus officer has commented:

I think it is silly . . . for any rational minded person to try to stifle a

foreign language out of an individual who is here to learn English,

_but on the_ _other hand, will teach and require an English-speaking_

_student to learn a_ _second language. It is preposterous. You learn_

_them TOGETHER!!"_ (C. Douglas, personal communication, March

19, 2014).

For Latino ELL students, these schooling practices put a hold on intellectual development until the requisite level of English is learned. Due to the academic down-time, many fall so far behind as to make high school completion unlikely.

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The immigrant component is not the only member of the Latino community that is negatively impacted by the lack of Spanish language fluency. The movie _Selena_ provides a good example of the dilemmas associated with ethnic language maintenance or loss. In one scene, Selena asks her father if she can play before an audience in Monterrey, Mexico. Citing his own in-group discriminatory experiences as a young Mexican American musician growing up in Corpus Christi, the following dialogue takes place:

**Dad** : They don't accept us over there [in Mexico]. They never have.

**Selena** : Hello! We're Mexican!

**Dad** : No. We're Mexican American—and they don't like Mexican Americans. They can be mean, and they can tear you up over there. [pause] Selena's Spanish is [pause].

**Selena** : What about my Spanish? I've been singing in Spanish for ten years. It's perfect!

**Dad** : Singing, yes—but when you speak it, you speak it a little funny. And down there, you've got to speak it perfect [sic] or the press will eat you up and spit you out alive. I've seen them do it. . . . [W]e have to prove to the Mexicans how Mexican we are. We have to prove to the Americans how American we are. We got [sic]to be more Mexican than the Mexicans, and more American than the Americans, both at the same time . . . It's exhausting! . . . Man, nobody knows how tough it is to be a Mexican-American!

**Intriguing Student Quotes**

As I reanalyzed the cross-cultural data that I contributed to the research project, similar thinking emerged from the student and parent responses. For example, one Mexican-origin female stated: "I can't forget my culture—the one I was born with. Also, I love Spanish. It isn't complicated, and I love the words" (Diaz, 2008, p. 107). She had experienced discrimination since her arrival, but from an unexpected source. She insisted, "Sometimes you are discriminated against by your own people, from Mexico, but who speak English only, because they don't understand Spanish" (p. 108).

One Chinese-origin student spoke about the pitfalls of the cultural assimilation philosophy. In regard to Asian youth that lose their language, he asserted, "They slack off more. They don't reach their parent's expectations" (p. 112). Commenting on her parents' insistence that she learn to read and write her ethnic language, one Vietnamese female said, "I would feel like a disgrace if I had forgotten everything. I think that I'm in tune with my culture, basically" (p. 106).

While both Asian and Latino respondents believed that native language and culture were important to maintain, Asian respondents were far more adamant. One Vietnamese student summed up,

I see a lot of my friends, and they were born here, and they don't

care much about their backgrounds, about their language and

their culture. . . . Once my dad said, 'A person who does not

remember where he or she comes from is probably not'— I don't

know how to translate it in English—'not a very good person. They

_don't remember their roots' "_ (p. 127).

A Mexican immigrant female student stated that her bilingualism had allowed her to "freely go between two cultures" (p. 128). She had been placed in a bilingual program in elementary school. She exclaimed, _"I know how to read Spanish and English perfectly! My cousins that were in English-only don't really know how to write Spanish. . . . I'm taking French. It's a breeze because it's very similar"_ (p. 128). Another female respondent spoke of the deterioration of her Spanish that occurred in the years after exiting an elementary bilingual program. While visiting relatives in Mexico, she became aware of her native language limitations: _"Nobody made fun of me. They were very understanding"_ (p. 125).

The study illustrated that Latino students of various national origins faced similar experiences of shame and regret due to their lack of fluency in the native language. One student with roots in the USA _"since Texas was Mexico"_ (p. 118) spoke of his inability to keep up with code-switching Latinos that jump from one language to the other, then back again: _"I'm ashamed to say that I can't speak it well. It's like_ [sic] _I'm neglecting my heritage"_ (p. 119). A Latina respondent stated, " _I'm trying to get my Spanish in classes. I'm not good, but I'm working on it. I want to learn so bad_ [sic]. _I speak incorrectly, and people are looking at me_ " (p. 118).

The student and parent responses suggested that, in addition to the lowering of student self-esteem, the loss of the native language could precipitate a weakening of the core values of self-discipline and respect. Both the Asian languages surveyed, and Spanish, had more elaborate rules for the demonstration of respect than those found in English _._ In addition, individual self-discipline in school, that is, the willingness to meet academic and behavioral expectations, was clearly associated with the maintenance of student ethnic culture.

[In the upcoming chapters, I will describe the extent to which the decades-long disregard of student cultural identity affected student achievement and behavior at Jacobson Middle School. The period of relative safety and stability lasted nearly five years, allowing me to peel back the layers enough to confirm that subtractive schooling was the primary source of student disengagement].

Effective Discipline Management (II)

**Inner-City Experience**

In July of 2002, I was hired as an assistant principal at Jacobson Middle School. I believed that the incessant fighting, classroom disruption, and defiance toward school personnel that I found there were a natural consequence of an educational disconnect decades in the making. Student apathy and resistance were just the surface symptoms of the greater institutional problem. I suspected that Dr. Valenzuela's assertion that youth may "fall prey to the subtle yet unrelenting message of the worthlessness of their communities," (Valenzuela, 1999, p. 264) might be the root of Jacobson's learning and behavioral problems. I hoped that many of Jacobson's students, exhibiting characteristics of "oppositional or reactive subcultures," (p. 110) much like those at Seguin High, would be attending high school with a much improved educational footing and outlook.

The year prior to my arrival at Jacobson, one student population had out-shined the rest in terms of academic performance, even amid the utter chaos and violence. A previous school administration had established a sixth-grade sheltered bilingual program—with a full complement of English/ Spanish-speaking teachers. Most of them were immigrants—two from Mexico, one from Colombia, and another from Puerto Rico. They understood the ELL students' learning difficulties, particularly in the transitional period between elementary and middle school. This was the bilingual program that the ESL head at my former school had alluded to. The increased linguistic support gave these students the additional traction that they required to remain fully engaged in the educational process. The achievement rate for this sixth-grade bilingual component had far surpassed the general school population.

These bilingual education teachers were known to be stern disciplinarians. They had provided the structure and support that shielded these pupils from the harmful effects of an unstable school environment. Unfortunately, with a change in the following year's administration, the new principal was unable to reconstitute the team after the departure of several teachers. Those teacher positions were filled by ESL personnel, and the highly successful sixth-grade bilingual program was dismantled.



Occasionally, I had seen student defiance rear its ugly head _,_ but the level of non-compliance was not a cause for alarm. Before arriving at Jacobson Middle in the fall of 2002, I worked at two elementary schools in a nearby district. As a fifth-grade teacher, I experienced some minor student misconduct. Later, I worked at a middle school that was the site of a student death a year before my arrival. An unsuspecting student was ambushed in the hallway by a rival gang member. His skull was perforated with the tip of a screwdriver. The mortally wounded student was rushed to the hospital, where he died.

Before being appointed as a first-year assistant principal, I was aware of Jacobson's reputation in the district as one of the most violent of inner-city schools in Houston. Reportedly, students there were just as likely to respond "SHUT UP!" "F--- YOU!" or "GET OUT OF MY FACE!" as they were to say "Yes, Sir." or "Yes, Ma'am." At my job interview, I wanted to leave a favorable impression with a parting comment: "I'm going to enjoy working here!" The members of the hiring committee chuckled. A few days later, I was hired.

One of the first individuals that I befriended was Mr. Sanchez, one of the school's janitors. He recounted that several years earlier, on his first day at work, a student struck him down in the cafeteria with a flying apple to the eye socket. I could not help but laugh at the image that he painted. He told me that on a weekly basis, the cleaning crew had to conduct cleanups on the building exterior to recover books, materials, and even desks that were thrown out of the second and third floor windows. Painting over graffiti in the hallways, stairwells, and the exterior walls and sidewalks was a ceaseless chore. Despite having its own campus officer, units from Houston Police and Constable's Office were routinely called to Jacobson in response to student uprisings or gang fights. Drug use and weapons on campus were a continuous concern.

The Jacobson of 2002 was a dangerous and unstable school environment. Many of its personnel pointed to irresponsible parents, or gang culture, as the primary cause of Jacobson's condition. The failure of parents to instill and reinforce the core value of respect, on its surface, did seem to have some explanatory value. Many of Jacobson's youth lacked a commitment to the "four R's" in education: 1) Respect for authority figures (teachers, administrators and other adult personnel), 2) Respect for school rules, 3) Respect toward fellow students and, 4) Basic self-respect. I believed that respect, together with self-discipline, were the basic formula for achievement in school (Respect + Self-Discipline = Achievement).

Over the years, Jacobson had seen a succession of new administrative teams come and go without the school ever achieving a safe and stable environment. Their chances of promoting student achievement through curricular changes, or technological innovations, were a lesson in futility. At Jacobson, student apathy and resistance formed a strong barrier to school-wide achievement. With Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs as a guide, I knew that the school had to be stabilized, and its Level II concerns of safety and structure addressed, before a long-term solution could be found.

Jacobson would require three-to-five years to develop a safe and structured learning environment. This would be accomplished, primarily, through the enforcement of the school's Code of Conduct. I would encounter staunch resistance from the student body, some community parents, and even faculty and staff members. Only then was a school administrative team able to fine-tune the instructional program, and bring about a short-lived academic rebound.



By the 2007-2008 school year, Jacobson was enjoying a much improved climate. On occasion, a conniving pupil hoped to shatter the school's relative peace and stability. On that day, in February, a student from the BAC (behavior accommodation class) was encouraging student misbehavior in the cafeteria. His disruptive activities quickly led to my unsuccessful physical restraint of him.

At lunchtime, as I was monitoring at approximately 11:45, I came upon a table with fresh graffiti. I was quite annoyed because, by this point, graffiti was a rare sight within the institution's open spaces. As I enquired with nearby students as to who might have drawn the gang symbols, I was struck by an even rarer sight. At the adjacent table, a student was wearing boxer shorts extending about five inches above his pants. Upon closer examination, I noticed that the letters on the elastic band of his boxer shorts had symbols and lettering identical to that which was found on the table. I immediately insisted that the student get up and exit the cafeteria doors.

Knowing that the student had previously exhibited extreme defiance toward other school personnel, I asked, "Who allowed you to come to the first lunch period today?" Self-assured, he grumbled, "Ms. Marcos said that I could eat at this time!" I replied, "You are responsible for the graffiti. I want you to go back to your classroom. NOW!" Incensed, he barked, "CHECK ME! CHECK ME!" "I don't need to check you [for a marker]. Just GO!" I responded. At that moment, he lunged toward the door to get back in. Our arms made contact as I blocked his forward motion. Immediately, we were both on the hallway floor, as I attempted to restrain him by the wrists. I had been thrown backwards, and landed on my rump in an awkward seated position. Having heard the commotion in the hallway, several custodians were now surrounding us, watching the shocking spectacle. The defiant youth kept repeating, "WAIT 'TIL I SEE YOU OUTSIDE!" I replied, "It may not turn out well FOR YOU!"

Finally separated, with several persons holding him back, he insisted angrily, "HE'S MESSING WITH ME ALL THE TIME!" As I would later find out, A. R. Gomez had been let out of class as an incentive for good behavior. He could have used this time constructively, but instead, he tried to undermine campus stability by defacing school property, and encouraging others to follow his lead. His assistant principal believed that I had only managed to shake up an already fragile relationship with her student. Considering this incident a result of administrator misjudgment, I refused to press Assault by Contact charges against A. R. Gomez—even at the urging of the principal.

Two years later, as I stood after school at my usual spot, I glanced at the street corner and saw A. R. Gomez making his way toward me. The thought entered my mind, "Is it today that he will make good on his 'WAIT 'TIL I SEE YOU OUTSIDE!' threat?" Although he was still a minor, I was prepared to use as much force as necessary to protect myself. I heard reports from other ex-students about his involvement in a string of criminal activity that had recently landed him in juvenile detention. Also, I heard that he was now a father. "That's Just Great!"

Due to his emotional issues, I had been less inclined to blame him for being such a troubled youth. I was convinced that his home environment, together with his learning disability, had contributed greatly to his delinquency. As A. R. Gomez neared my position, I noticed that he had a smile on his face. Within ten paces, he extended his hand to me and said, "Mr. Diaz, I'm doing a lot better now!" I responded, "Let me know if I can help you in any way. You know where you can find me." I had a lump in my throat, the kind that educators get from the slightest indication that they might have made a difference in someone's life.

But, like the adage maintains, "A leopard does not easily change his spots!" He must have only felt temporarily repentant due to his recent incarceration. In March of 2011, Officer Douglas, now retired and doing community service work in the Galveston County jail, sent me an e-mail. It seems that A. R. Gomez was, again, in deep trouble with the law. Allegedly, he and two accomplices targeted a family from Texas City. They produced weapons, and forced the driver's wife to lie down on the ground. One of the hooligans kicked their teenage son in the face when he defended his parents. It was an act of utter brutality that, while culminating in the police chase that ensued, was actually years in the making. Only a series of gunshots in the air from an alert citizen, roused by the commotion as the incident unfolded, may have saved the lives of the innocent family. I could not help but think that the events of that day might have been prevented if people had acted more responsibly in the face of his deteriorating condition over the years.

I could only speculate how the outcome would have been different if his parents had been halfway supportive of school personnel and administration, and if some of his teachers and administrators had refrained from appeasing him whenever he stepped out-of-line, perhaps this criminal act might have been prevented. If the laws designed to ensure him an equal opportunity in education had not been corrupted by mal-practitioners, and further manipulated by him to gain immunity from the consequences of misconduct, it is possible that his errant path would have been sufficiently altered.

At least two members of the criminal gang were students assigned to the BAC class at Jacobson during my employment there. Everyone should have been on the same page, that is, parents, teachers, administrators, therapists, as to the need for tough consequences, not just at the middle school level, but particularly in the early formative childhood years. I had numerous run-ins with them in the two or three years that our paths crossed at Jacobson, but now, it was a little late for anything but the most stringent of measures. The young A. R. Gomez, and his outlaw posse, would soon be incarcerated in the state penitentiary.

After years of dealing with incorrigible students, I knew that a relatively small proportion of them were responsible for the greatest amount of school misconduct and instability. Errant youth spent too much time and energy on non-educational pursuits such as defiance, fighting, and substance abuse on campus. Parents that did not take the time early on to instill right from wrong, and did not continue to reinforce those values frequently, were not going to be successful in redirecting their behaviors in their early teens.

I could recall a parent interview from the study on academically successful students. One father, an ex-South Vietnamese tank commander, and his wife expressed that the greatest problem that they had faced in America was the threat to the family's core value system. His wife asserted, "[S]o _in the family usually children have_ [to] _obey parents ..._ [R] _ight here too many freedoms, and sometimes the kids, you give them too much freedom. ... Whenever I say 'Yes' or 'No,' they have to obey that_. The father then interjected, _"Let I told you. Kid—Animo_ [Animal] _the same. You teach kid when they small. Big kid do not same"_ (Diaz, 2008, p. 140) _._ His wife could hardly contain her laughter.

**The Dress Code Gestapo**

Upon my arrival at Jacobson Middle in the fall of 2002, it was clear that the school was infested with gang colors and paraphernalia. Quite predictably, one of the primary rival groups wore red (possible affiliates of the Bloods), while their adversaries wore blue (possible affiliates of the Crips). Additionally, there were a considerable number of students that wore black, and were thought to be aligned with the red-wearing faction. At Jacobson, blue-wearers outnumbered red-wearers and black-wearers combined, by a margin of three to one.

There were many ways that students demonstrated a preference for, if not allegiance to, one of the three. The diehard supporter of either group usually wore all items of clothing with at least some of their preferred color on it. Blue or red shoes, and shoe laces, were typical items that pupils tried to sneak into school with. The school dress code only permitted "black, white, or brown shoes without logos, and matching strings." The obvious contraband items to look for were belts, belt buckles, undershirts, necklaces (including rosaries), bandanas, gold tooth grills, earrings (males), panty-hose hairnets, and various skull caps. There was also a litany of less suspect items. These included rubber bands and scrunchies (in the hair or on the wrist), red or blue pens, pencils, and notebooks, and a preference for red or blue make-up and nail polish for the girls. While the majority of students were doing nothing more that demonstrating an affinity with urban youth culture (Valenzuela, 1999), a number of them, albeit small, were bona fide gang members affiliated by color. For them, the exhibition of their colors in school was like kryptonite for Superman _._ It gave them a sense of invincibility, and a feeling of being beyond the control of school officials.

From the standpoint of school assistant principal, it mattered little to me what group they belonged to. Gang culture was too complicated for me to entertain the meaning of gang symbols, or to determine who was an actual gang member or not. I knew that the burden would have been on me to prove that a student was, somehow, gang-affiliated. I knew that, by definition, a genuine gang member must be proven to be part of a group involved in criminal activity (Vigil, 1988). A teacher or administrator needed conclusive evidence to substantiate a claim of gang membership. The "walks like a duck" rule of thumb was insufficient. In my experience, many suspected gang members were fairly straight-laced individuals in terms of school behavior. I adopted the mindset that what they did in their neighborhood, when not on school time, was beyond the scope of my involvement. I was perplexed to find many students wearing a combination of red and blue items, while others ran about after school together in mixed color groups, some in blue, some in black, and some in red.

Generally speaking, red or black-wearing students, highly represented by immigrant Latinos at Jacobson, were most likely to defer to authority when confronted by school administration. As with any generalization, there were always exceptions. Intergenerational Latinos, largely represented by the blue-wearing faction, were usually more hostile toward school teachers and authority figures. In no way was defiance toward school personnel limited to suspected gang members. At Jacobson, it was fairly distributed among every category of pupil, to include the school's small high-achieving component.

At times, a neighborhood ruffian had a pleasing, if not charming, personality. This was the case with Gerardo Mungia. He was always respectful toward school administrators and personnel. By seventh grade, he had earned a reputation at Jacobson as a fearless fighter. In fact, in time, both Officer Douglas and I referred to him as "One Punch" Mungia. We heard an account of him being approached by three rivals on his way to church on Sunday. Reportedly, all three suffered substantial injuries. Knowing individuals like Gerardo made me realize that, although I could never condone gang culture, I was not there to further demonize those misguided youths. Love and respect for his mother was a mediating factor in his life. Señora Mungia was a very kind woman, but one that he did not dare respond negatively to.

I established a personal action plan to deal with gang influences in the school that I believed to be in keeping with the school district's Zero Tolerance policy. I would remove every item that could conceivably be associated with anything "gang-related." Whether the individual was an "A" student, a top athlete, or recently returned from the Juvenile Justice System, was not a consideration for me in terms of dress code enforcement. I would not participate in any form of favoritism _—_ especially if students were representing the school as office workers or athletes. Students knew that I would insist on removing the tiniest amount of blue, black, or red. Some students must have thought that I possessed x-ray like powers as I caught the fringe of a hidden undershirt. Any amount, whatsoever, of exposed blue, black, or red, was easy to detect from a distance. In my first year, I would fill a 3'x 3'x 4' box to the brim with miscellaneous items, all blue, black, or red. My Zero Tolerance motto for potential gang-wear was: "Not a button, nor a thread, of blue, black, or red!"

To ensure that students understood the seriousness of the school's dress code, I forewarned my grade level that I would be standing at the bus loading area before a field trip got underway. Any student in violation of dress code would remain on campus with me while their friends enjoyed the class excursion. Only consistency in the enforcement of this policy made it an important consideration as pupils left their homes each morning. In my first year at Jacobson, a few students scheduled for a class trip decided to ignore the ban on blue, black, or red clothing. I dropped down to the staging area after spotting violators from my second floor office window. I was informed that the bus was approximately twenty minutes away. One after another, I extracted the students that were not in compliance, and asked them to head upstairs immediately to call home for a change of clothes. The school counselor, Mrs. Balker, intervened angrily, "THEY'RE GOING TO MISS THE FIELD TRIP!" I responded, "Not if they hurry up and get the proper attire." With a scowl, she replied, "You're the boss!" Amazingly, the students returned with acceptable clothing just as the bus was boarding.

While I was not "the boss," I did enjoy a certain amount of latitude as an assistant principal. I could not expect that other administrators would treat dress code enforcement in the same manner that I did. I had seen it as a means to quickly differentiate between the mild resistor of school rules, and students bent on opposing all authority figures in school. The two other grade-level assistant principals, who had been part of the previous principal's team, relied heavily on DAEP placement to help maintain a semblance of order. I became aware later that Jacobson Middle supplied the highest percentage of pupils to the DAEP (disciplinary alternative education program) in comparison to any other area school _—_ several years running. A record number of one hundred placements had been reached the year before my arrival. Although this reactive strategy seemed to have no long term benefit for Jacobson, I am fairly certain that the faculty appreciated it. They could count on getting some relief from the most intolerable students by mid-year.

In order to support teachers in the management of student behavior, I never entered their classroom without knocking and acknowledging their authority first. I believed that simply barging in, as many administrators are accustomed to, sent the wrong message to the kids: _"This teacher doesn't even get respect from his professional colleagues. Why should I respect his/her authority?"_ I felt that a teacher could only feel empowered by a school administration that recognized their classroom as being, primarily, their domain. Teachers in my grade level knew that I would not be offended if they gave me a "wave off." This meant, _"Could you please come back at another time? Things aren't going so great right now."_ They knew that I would return in a day or two. I sensed that teachers appreciated this professional courtesy.

I would only insist on extracting a pupil that proceeded into their class in violation of dress code. Students that were found in the hallways with dress code issues were escorted back into their class to tuck-in their shirttails or strap-up their shoes before proceeding. If a teacher chose to give students the freedom to break from dress code requirements during their class period, I only expected that they would return them to full compliance prior to their departure. To some teachers, my actions seemed petty. Nonetheless, I believed that dress code enforcement held the key to improving the campus climate.

As the effort grew in my second year, there was a subtle difference in student behavior. However, some teacher/s had complained to the campus union representative that I was showing favoritism toward the "bad kids" with my daily "barrio handshakes" and "playing around." I occasionally engaged in playful behavior with the young guys—such as checking the ripeness of their noggin with a light knuckle tap. ¡"Cabeza dura"! (Hard head!). Sometimes, I would give the students a light yank on the ear as I gave them a crunching handshake. The kids at Jacobson enjoyed this mild horseplay.

But the word was quickly circulating that I was encouraging student misbehavior, in part, because I was partial toward some of the troublemakers, and "getting on the good kids for small stuff." I invited the campus union representative, Mr. Banks, to meet with me at his convenience, in order to discuss the concern that I had received via e-mail. Instead, he continued to badger me by delineating my responsibilities as an assistant principal. I was incensed by his meddling in my affairs. I had always considered myself to be in league with the teacher union.

[As a teacher in another district, I was defended by a similar organization against a principal determined to quash resistance to her philosophical perspective. She was in the process of dismantling the school's transitional bilingual model, established by her predecessor, in favor of English immersion. With a patronizing sneer, the principal declared, "We don't use 'bilingual' as an excuse here!" For me, this represented a return to the Dark Ages of education for any Latino community school. When the word got around that she was considering a ban on the use of Spanish in the teacher's lounge, I knew that it was time to move on. That was in the 1999-2000 school year.

Her insistence that I be placed on a growth plan for a "failure to follow policies and procedures" was dismissed at my Level II grievance hearing with the deputy superintendent. Her most damning evidence against me was that I had allowed my students to purchase beverages from the drink machine on "a non-designated day." I had permitted my students to drink beverages the day of a school lockdown due to a petrochemical plant explosion in the area. They had endured three hours without air conditioning by that point. This incident became known as "Fruitopia-gate" by my union representative. Also, I had not worn a tie on another occasion! With the help of a local teacher's union, I was able to defend against the principal by exposing her misuse of the teacher evaluation instrument].

Now, Jacobson's union steward was making me the object of his anti-administration campaign. Against the better advice of my administrative associates who counseled, "Just leave it alone. It will slowly fade away. Do not respond in person or by e-mail," I, nonetheless, sent him the following message: "As you have been unable to meet with me in my office, I will be ready to meet in your room tomorrow morning before school." I was determined to handle this matter once and for all. The following morning, when I should have been monitoring students outside, instead, I was pacing in the hallway within sight of his classroom. A teacher came down the hallway, and asked in an unsettled manner, "Did you hear about Mr. Banks? He was rushed to the hospital this morning with a heart problem." The thought that I may have been responsible for elevating his stress level troubled me throughout his absence. After an extended stay in the hospital, Mr. Banks announced his retirement.

Several weeks earlier, Mr. Banks's second-in-command had gotten a piece of my mind. I heard through the grapevine that she was parroting the unfounded assertions made by her mentor. I saw her at the Christmas program, standing next to her class. I came over and said, "Ms. Black, could you please step outside into the rear hallway?" I saw that she quickly became flustered. "Sure, what's the problem?" "There's a rumor going around that I am to blame for student misbehavior because of the manner that I interact with them." "Well, you do let some of the kids get away with misbehavior," she contended. "What instance are you referring to?" I probed. "Just in general," she stated tersely. I then countered, "Are you telling me that you are basing your opinion of my performance on an observation in the hallway, or on hearsay? You don't know how I handle misbehaving students in my office." At that time, Ms. Black, offended by my contention, became quite emotional. I continued, "Do you see the unfairness here?" As she nodded in agreement, I discerned a willingness to concede that she may have misjudged me. Ms. Black offered, "Are we cool?" I responded, "We're cool." In the following years, I would consider Ms. Black a most dedicated teacher and friend.

**Gang-wear in Decline**

In my second year at Jacobson, I was only able to fill half of the large box by year's end. With less conspicuous displays of gang affiliation or support, the level of hostility began to decline. Whenever individual and group confrontations did arise, you could also count on a renewed display of colors, and the throwing, or "chunking," of gang signs. Sometimes, as students swarmed in the hallways, it was hard to tell where the hand signs came from. I would tell the suspected gang sign thrower, "If I catch you throwing gang signs again, you'll be seeing MY gang sign!" "You have one!?" the student asked incredulously. I then showed my cupped hand turned upright with my other hand running perpendicular to it. "What's this?" "That's a J." Then my hand turned sideways with three fingers pointing like a gun barrel. "That's an E." My third letter was formed with my index finger curled downward to meet my thumb, and my middle finger perpendicular to the palm. "That's a P—J. E. P.!," replied the student as his face broke into a grin. "That's right. I'll send you to JEP," (the disciplinary alternative school) I assured. Despite my light heartedness, the student knew that this was not an idle threat.

By my third year, almost all gang paraphernalia was rare, or at least, well-hidden. Shortly after school dismissal, however, the colors were to be found among students roving around the perimeter, just outside the school fence. Often, students brought their favorite colored clothing item, and concealed it in their backpacks throughout the day. Every afternoon, after dismissal, students representing each color wearing group vied to establish a numerical superiority in a designated area surrounding the school. Much like male peacocks establishing their territorial claim, this was more easily accomplished through the display of their colors (Eaves & Bloom, 1996). This was part of the cultural dynamic in the surrounding neighborhood that was reactivated the moment that students stepped out of the school's main entrance and exits. It was the reality of life in the inner-city ward.

A swift student extraction from class, followed by prolonged isolation from the student body, usually foiled a chain reaction of unacceptable behavior during the instructional day. Occasionally, after school, students were seen streaming excitedly to a pre-determined location. I would ask, "Where are you all going in such a rush? I hope it's not a fight!" They were unaware that rumors of an after school confrontation had already led to a last minute detention of one or more of the potential fighters. Students maintained a code of silence under a mischievous smile. I added, "Hurry up! You don't want to miss it."



Dress code enforcement was the instrument used, primarily, to condition students to the school's behavioral expectations. Before the mass of pupils set foot on campus, school personnel were increasingly there to meet them. In previous years, non-compliance issues might be addressed sometime throughout the day, but students at Jacobson had never expected such stringent school rule enforcement before the school bell rang. Proactive administrators and personnel now focused their effort on the time of student arrival. The front gate and other entrances became Jacobson's Checkpoint Charlie _._

As students entered in larger groups, some attempted to conceal a dress code violation, such as a shirt not being tucked in properly, but only temporarily suspended to appear to be in compliance. I would often look back at the passing group in time to see the shirt drop immediately after clearing the entry point. After the command to stop, the student would have to return to the gate. Sometimes a student managed to get by only to be spotted from a distance later. A long-range whistle would alert a pod of students, and after a series of back and forth finger pointing to the right and left, "Who? Me? Him? "—the students would identify the dress code violator. He or she would have to walk back to my location and take care of the dress code issue. Students knew better than to make me leave my post to get them. That might lead to much more unpleasant morning experience. Even if the student complied immediately, they rarely got away with not having to come back to the gate for my approval. Often, one would ask, "Why did you call me?" I would respond, "You'll figure it out." They would then review their uniform and arrive at the solution. Another often heard remark was "I BARELY JUST GOT HERE!" tinged with a bit of frustration and anger. I would respond, "Then, _'_ BARELY JUST' get outside the gate, and take care of the problem!"

On occasion, a stubborn pupil would fiddle with his uniform to show his contempt. After several minutes, with no visible improvement made, he might announce, "Ok, I'm done." After a glance, I would respond, "No, keep working on it." "BUT IT'S TUCKED IN!" an ornery student would bark. "Not to my satisfaction. Keep working on it." Such a standoff could continue for ten minutes before the student finally relented. Jacobson students knew that my temperament was much like that of a rattlesnake's _—_ slow to anger in the cool morning. By mid-day, however, my patience was considerably worn.

Students became accustomed, through an unyielding enforcement policy, to associate the front gate as the expected point of full dress code compliance. After being held temporarily at the gate, a student wearing a prohibited clothing item was escorted to the main office by an available teacher or staff member. Whether their unauthorized clothing was gang-related wear or not, students were directed to call their parents immediately, either to pick them up, then change and return, or to bring the appropriate clothing to them. An irritated parent once commented, "You mean that you are going to deny my child an education because he does not have the right uniform on?" I replied, _"Well ma'am, the reason that we have a dress code has much more to do with maintaining a safe and orderly environment, so that your son can receive a good education."_

Another irate parent also countered, "Are you saying that my child is a gang member!?" I replied, _"No, but I can tell you that there have been numerous incidents where students have been physically assaulted by others—just because they were wearing a particular color."_ I was convinced that the color that they wore, blue, black, or red in Jacobson's case, indicated that they were supportive of, or aligned with, one group or another. I knew that this support, alone, could get them hurt, or in the case of the stabbing incident at my former school, even killed. When our conversation took place in my office, I would reach into my box of confiscated items, and drop a fistful on my desk for effect. I would say, "If your son or daughter leaves your house wearing things like these, as a parent, I would be very concerned." One time, a parent paused to consider my assertion, then remarked with a troubled expression, "You know, my son does seem to prefer red on all his clothes!"

An amusing letter was delivered by an angry mother to the main office. It stated,

Mr. Diaz, I am writing you today regarding my son, Milton Zepeda.

He has informed me that you have a nasty habit of getting in his

_face due to you have_ [sic] _a problem with his shoes. They have a_

red and blue line on them. I really don't see what the problem is

and what that has to do with his education. . . . And if you want him

to wear new shoes then I will be glad to inform you of his shoe size,

which is 6. . . . Please do not discuss this matter with Milton as I will

_be forced to contact_ [the] _district regarding the tactful ways you_

approach students.

That afternoon, I called Milton's mother to inform her that her son had been reminded several times, in as many weeks, that in case his parents were unable to provide another pair of shoes, Jacobson would give him a pair free of charge. "My son didn't mention that!" she said apologetically. The parent had jumped to a hasty conclusion. Students at Jacobson did not like to wear those plain, school-provided shoes. For some, not being able to exhibit their preferred gang color was the root of their ungrateful attitude.

I heard, and sometimes read, student testimonials about their involvement in local gangs. They often felt that their involvement was justified due to the perceived threat that rival gang members posed. One autobiographical sketch, submitted by an English teacher, Mr. Daniel Campos, stated:

My name is Edwin Jimenez. I'm 14 years old. I was born in El

_Salvador. . . . I went to Jacobson. I started getting badder_ [sic] _and_

then I got clicked into the Crips. Everything changed. I got in a lot

of trouble. I always wore blue and never red. Cause that's the color

Crips hate because that's our rival gang color. Every time that we

fight its always a Blood. I don't know why we fight over colors but

when ones in trouble the rest help you out.

As the visible tensions between rival groups began to diminish on campus, some of Jacobson's personnel believed that dress code enforcement was no longer necessary. I was fairly certain that, even after years of stringent enforcement, we only had a tenuous hold on them.



In 2008, I received an ultimatum from the director of the education department at the university: "Complete your defense by April, or you will be dismissed from the program with no chance for an appeal." I spoke to the principal, hoping that she would understand my dilemma. I presented my request as a lesser of two evils when I said, "I can either take approximately ten days of personal leave, or I can come to school every day, make sure the kids get into class safely, then go directly to the bookroom to continue working on my defense preparation." The principal agreed that the latter was preferable, but I could tell that she was ruffled by my dictating of terms.

By the end of the eight-day period, I was already hearing teacher reports suggesting that my grade-level students were increasingly acting out in my absence. I was nowhere to be seen throughout the day. My usual monitoring areas in the hallways, bathrooms, and the cafeteria were now interior spaces where students could misbehave with abandon. My students were quickly reverting to their old ways, for which the school had earned a nickname of dubious distinction, "Jacobson Prison," two decades before. There was nothing that I could do at that time to keep student misbehavior from escalating.

At my dissertation defense, the committee required several more revisions. This would take another four days of continued work. My students had been going bonkers for several days, as they perceived that my conspicuous absence had gained some permanence. When I informed the principal of this, I braced myself for a good tongue-lashing. I was no stranger to this treatment. As a teacher I had long concluded, "I get reprimanded, therefore I am!" The principal finally snapped back in frustration: "That dissertation is YOUR PERSONAL BUSINESS! Which is more important to you, YOUR JOB or your RESEARCH PROJECT?!"

I had sometimes complained to my closest associates about how overwhelmed I felt in completing my degree plan. At that moment, I could recall what Officer Douglas had once said, "If it was easy, everyone would have one!" My silence at that juncture spoke volumes. I had invested too much time and energy to quit near the finish line. The principal could tell that the school's climate was noticeably less stable _._ I could not blame her for being at her wit's end. It was, after all, my responsibility to maintain student discipline in my grade level. I knew that my students would rebuff anybody employing a weaker interactional approach. All they had to hear was my voice down the hallway as I chided one of their classmates: "THERE'S MORE WHERE THAT CAME FROM! I'M JUST GETTING WARMED UP!" The Dress Code Gestapo was my much feared and respected alter ego, not the actual me. Students with minor dress code violations would scramble into their classroom as I approached, to avoid being the next recipient of a vociferous and unnerving censure.

I returned to the committee members four days later, and received the remaining signatures for approval. As I was leaving the university grounds, I placed a call to Jacobson's school secretary. I stated, "Please inform the principal that I have a jury summons at 12:00." I knew that this was adding insult to injury, but there was not much that I could do. I had completely forgotten about jury duty due to my preoccupation with the defense deadline. After being selected from an immense pool of potential jurors, and sitting through the _voir dire_ process, I was picked as a jury member for a three-day trial. I could only imagine what the frustrated principal must have been thinking. Somehow, I had purposely planned the additional absence from duty—by not requesting a rescheduling. I heard from several teachers that after fifteen days of limited interaction with my students, their "healthy respect" for authority had been replaced by wanton acts of disobedience **.**

**The Forest for the Trees**

Like some school personnel, many parents in Jacobson community were oblivious to the great dangers that could threaten their children's safety from such matters as clothing styles and color preferences. I maintained,

As a matter of fact, if you let your son or daughter out on the

weekend, or after school, decked-out in their favorite blue, black, or

red clothing, there's a possibility that they will be targeted by an

opposing group member. Your son or daughter is essentially

putting a bull's-eye on himself or herself by wearing those colors.

Additionally, I often added, "Students act in a much more aggressive and anti-authority manner in street clothes than they do in a school uniform." I had seen the demeanor of middle school students transform instantly when allowed to dress in regular street clothes, occasionally, for Free Dress day.

I kept a copy of Keeping Kids Safe: Effective and Easy Steps to Protect Your Kids Against Crime by Eaves & Bloom (1995) dog-eared on page 116. In the event that a parent should question my assertions regarding gang-wear, I would read the following excerpt:

It's imperative for parents to monitor what their kids wear to

school. It's also extremely important to know about gang colors in

order to help your kids avoid wearing clothing that could

jeopardize their safety. It's a sad situation, to be sure. But like it or

not, it's a reality of life. Crime is depriving our kids of many of the

personal freedoms we used to take for granted. . . . Gangs rely on

clothing colors to identify their friends as well as their enemies.

Doubting parents and guardians could feel confident that I was not just pulling these ideas out of thin air. As needed, I would translate, line by line, for Spanish-speaking parents.

As I visited area schools to assist with student supervision at games, I wondered if anybody else interpreted the mandate of Zero Tolerance regarding gang-wear as I did. Their sports teams and student body were swarming with gang colors and paraphernalia. While Jacobson's players knew that I would be summoning them to my office if they insisted on wearing blue, black, or red on the basketball court or sports field, I do not think it was even a consideration at most schools. I would warn, "The next time that I see you wearing those colors at practice or at a game, I will inform your coach that you will be benched for the next game. If you continue to ignore school rules, I will have you removed from the team." Students knew that I was not merely bluffing. However, I do not recall a time when I actually had to carry out that threat, because Jacobson students knew better than to push their luck with me when it came to potential gang-wear.

Some schools that I had the chance to visit, particularly in the African-American community, could not part with these colors—especially red. Entire school buildings were painted "blood" red, inside and out. Baffled, I wondered, "How is it that their administrators have not made the obvious connection between the color red, or blue, and the nationwide gang phenomenon?" I could envision a scene from the movie _My Cousin Vinny,_ where Joe Pesci's character (Vinny Gambini), upon seeing the cook at the breakfast diner spoon a sizable glob of lard onto the griddle, states in disbelief, "Excuse me. You guys down here hear about the ongoing cholesterol problem in the country?!" The cook gives him an indifferent, and somewhat irritated stare, and continues cooking.

Perhaps, a review of the famous prison color studies in the 1960s might have also been useful. Although the research was conducted with pink as the test variable, it was clear that different colors did produce either positive or negative psychological effects on the study's subjects. For more than one reason, I was inclined to believe that the wearing of blue and red could easily be linked to greater aggression in adolescents and teenagers. The fact that the colors selected by these arch-rivals were found nearly at the farthest ends of the visible light spectrum seemed to be more than an interesting coincidence.

By the second year of increased dress code enforcement, battle dress blue, black, or red, that is, gang-related attire from head to toe, was not often seen advancing toward school grounds. Any student that I ran across exhibiting blue, black, or red items was stopped immediately, and escorted to the main office by available personnel. By not allowing these prohibited colors to enter the school perimeter, the campus interior became much less conducive to the daily morning confrontations that had been the norm for years. By employing this level of rigidity, I could identify and isolate students with disruptive intentions early on. The following day, students returned to campus in compliance with dress code, and with a more agreeable disposition as well. I could hypothesize that the same color that I could spot occasionally from one hundred yards could easily be the cause of agitation for many potential rivals. At times, just the increased presence of these colors signaled a volatile situation in the making—especially if the individual wearing them was a recent transfer student.

By far, the best time to nab the dress code violator was as he was un-bending his knees to stand upright at the vehicle's door. Often, I would step out to the curb quickly and inform the parent, "Ma'am/Sir, the clothing that your son is wearing is not permitted on campus. Could you please take him home, and return just as soon as he is in compliance?" Sometimes, the parent would give me a most sinister look. I felt that an occasional parental rebuke was a small price to pay for the countless benefits of campus order and stability. I knew that dress code enforcement had, thus far, been instrumental in improving the campus atmosphere—an unexpected catalyst for school climate change. In order to keep the trend toward greater campus stability going, I was determined to enforce this to the nth degree.

Non-complying students were kept from intermingling freely with those more responsible ones. Their negative thinking might quickly rub off on their peers. While the focus on dress code conformity seemed rather trivial and obsessive to some of Jacobson's personnel, they were not situated at the right place to fully understand its wider impact. The Jacobson student body, whose behavior reminded me of a nest of angry yellow jackets, ready to strike back at anything that moved, was slowly transforming into more docile honey bees. A good working relationship with campus officers, and the support of the principal, had allowed me to lay the groundwork for climate improvement at Jacobson. As if to solidify the hold, and assure the continued strengthening of the school's discipline structure, Officer Douglas arrived in January of 2004—to fully tip the scales in favor of the school's educational professionals.

For three years, Officer Douglas and I, along with other administrators and staff, worked tirelessly to achieve a level of conformity in Jacobson's student body that had not been experienced in two decades. School personnel knew that they had now regained the upper hand, and they guarded this reprieve tenaciously. By the end of the 2005-2006 school year, community parents, substitutes, and long-time teachers were commenting frequently about the vast improvement in the campus climate.

**Synergy of Like-Minded People**

Officer Douglas, Vietnam-era Army war veteran, had very similar philosophical views to mine when it came to errant youth. Retired from the petrochemical industry, as well as the district's campus police force, he now spent his free time ministering to young adults in the Galveston County jail twenty miles from his home. As campus officer, he understood how my military-like approach to student discipline management might diminish the level of misconduct in the school.

Officer Douglas and I worked in tandem, as with other school administrators, when a panic button was pushed by a flustered teacher, or frightened substitute, not having expected a threat of bodily injury from a middle school student. "Get up! Come outside with me," I would direct. On one occasion, an antagonistic student responded, "I'm not going to get up!" I then added, "Get up now, like a man, or you will be carried out of this class!" With the student's continued show of defiance, the campus officer was asked to intervene: "Officer Douglas, could you please come in? I have repeatedly asked the student to leave this classroom. He has refused."

Officer Douglas was 6' 4" tall—and he weighed approximately two-hundred-and-forty pounds. He was a former linebacker at Grambling State. With one arm extended, he then extracted the squirming one-hundred-and-twenty pound student with relative ease. The impression that he left on the young man was of inestimable value. The sensation of being lifted off the floor on his tiptoes, in the presence of his peers, must have been a most humbling feeling. At that moment, there was little time to ponder extraneous thoughts such as the preservation of student dignity. Embarrassment was a relatively minor consequence for his unacceptable behavior _—_ before a truly anti-social and anti-authority mindset had the opportunity to settle in.

Officer Douglas and I had often discussed the handling of incidents like these. We were perfectly in agreement that a tough approach to student misconduct was, undoubtedly, in the best long-term interest of those students. He and I had recounted stories of our own upbringing when, as adolescents and young teens, we were redirected by our parents toward a more rewarding path in life. For the incorrigible few that remained in the class after the swift student removal, thoughts of following in the footsteps of the shamed transgressor faded instantaneously.

Under no circumstance was a student allowed to return to the same classroom on the day of the offense. That would further undermine the authority the classroom instructor. Even a less serious violation, such as chronic disruption of class instruction, was met with extended isolation from the classroom on that given day. Returning a pupil to class after a mere counseling only provided a source of amusement for the rest of the class. I ensured that my response to student misbehavior did not interfere with a teacher's authority and teaching.

As a man of the highest integrity and professionalism, I never second guessed Officer Douglas's decisions pertaining to school law enforcement. My fellow assistant principal, Mrs. de la Rosa, had been trained differently by her mentor, to always assert her "authority" over the campus officer in student affairs. She would state, "WHERE IS MY OFFICER? I want these students ticketed—RIGHT NOW!" Before Officer Douglas's arrival at Jacobson, campus officers often appeased the administration just to avoid further complications, rather than acting in an independent and unbiased manner. I believed that this arrangement could further weaken the discipline structure, instead of strengthening it. Officer Douglas was always true to his word when students insisted on crossing the line, citing or arresting violators as needed. He always gave the incorrigible element plenty of forewarning.

Officer Douglas and I shared a tendency to employ nonconventional, out of the box means when dealing with student misbehavior. He had been highly successful in diminishing student misconduct at another inner-city school, Scarsdale High, a couple of years prior to his employment at Jacobson. Officer Douglas would offer a bounty of up to several hundred dollars, of his own money, to entice students to rat out their companions. He could then count on an eager informer to drop by for a friendly visit before the day was through. His personal bounty method was extremely effective in breaking cases of school theft, as well as helping him to remain proactive in the elimination of illicit substances and weapons on campus. After several years, however, the daily two hours of commuting time had taken a toll on him.

Officer Douglas requested a transfer for an opening on the south side of town in order to be within a reasonable distance of his home. Although some of his fellow officers expressed reservations about his chances of success in a predominantly Latino, and highly immigrant community school, Officer Douglas was not dissuaded. Soon after arriving, he would recruit student office workers to facilitate communication with Spanish-speaking parents. The more enterprising of them would come by his office and say, "Officer Douglas, don't forget to call me if you need an interpreter!" They earned five dollars, and an immeasurable amount of ethnic and individual self-esteem build up. Officer Douglas arrived at Jacobson with a proven formula for taming out-of-control school environments that, in addition, was highly complementary to my beliefs and interactional style. With his arrival, Jacobson's effort to maintain campus discipline was immediately ramped up to full throttle. Our defensive strategy turned into a spring offensive.

**Desperate Measures for Desperate Times**

With Officer Douglas's full support, in my second year at Jacobson, I had a growing sense of efficacy in my discipline management role. In one particularly memorable exchange in my office, an extremely defiant student insisted on "eyeballing" me, and responding loudly and disrespectfully. In the midst of our heated discussion, he abruptly clamped his mouth shut, and leaned to the trash can to spit out in disgust. "YOU SPIT [sic] IN MY MOUTH!" he growled angrily. I retorted, "YOUR MOUTH WAS OPEN!" While I was known for inadvertently spattling students in the face as I chewed them out, I had always considered that part of the price for their defiance in school. In my view, defiance toward school personnel was nearly as certain a factor for academic and lifelong failure as substance abuse. I kept in mind a commercial featuring Carrol O'connor, who starred as Archie Bunker in _All in the Family_. His son, Hugh, a budding actor, died of a drug-induced suicide in 1995. The anti-drug ad ended with O'connor stating, "Get yourself between kids and drugs any way you can—if you want to save the kid's life." As an assistant principal, I felt nearly the same way about drug use as defiance toward authority figures.

In my first year, my fellow assistant principal, Ms. Acevedo and I had a disagreement. She intervened on behalf of a pupil, when she heard my booming voice right through the wall in the adjacent office. She came to my door and asked the student to step in the hallway. She then censured me by exclaiming, "You can't raise your voice like that to the students!" I had to admit that the verbal fusillade that I unleashed on the defiant student must have been shocking to some, but particularly for Ms. Acevedo, who employed a counseling approach to discipline. In my momentary exasperation due to her interference, I turned on her rabidly, "GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!" My hot temper had gotten the best of me. Ms. Acevedo complained to the principal about my unprofessional behavior toward her, and I maintained that she was out-of-line for interfering with my disciplining of students.



In April of 2005, I received an entertaining e-mail from Dr. Jenkins, an eighth-grade English teacher. She had been having difficulty with a particular youth for a number of weeks. She wrote:

_Leonard Jones disappeared for about 15 minutes this_ _morning_

during homeroom when he was supposed to have gone to RR

[restroom] _. He was coming down the hallway, and then he was_

nowhere to be seen. It turns out that Mr. Diaz pulled him over for a

_shirttail, and Leonard_ _gave him a pile of you know what. When I_

_asked where he had been, he blamed_ _his lateness on Mr. Diaz,_

_mentioned the shirttail, but of course, did not offer any_ _other_

information. He yelled at me to go check with Mr. Diaz, which of

_course I_ _would do at my own convenience. . . . When the whole_

_group has finished_ [working] _, that is when he really loses control –_

a lot of mouth, not able to use his time in a relaxed, friendly

manner, etc. . . . It appears that he started out that way this

morning, considering his outlashing with Mr. Diaz. He was due for

a major comeuppance. Mr. Diaz is supplying it.

In my mind, any out-of-control, anti-authority student behavior had to be extinguished immediately if that young adult was to be reoriented toward a successful path. My office, the hallways, and the bathrooms had seen what could best be described as near exorcisms. I reasoned that a student exhibiting an extreme hostility toward those responsible for their academic and social well-being could only be suffering from a malady akin to demonic possession. I was determined to deal with as many small fires as possible so that Jacobson would not erupt into a blazing inferno of student rebellion. Most of the students at Jacobson, as reasonably compliant individuals, knew that they had nothing to fear. On one occasion, a student lampooned one of my exchanges with pupils at the talent show to the hearty laughter of the crowd. My detractors at Jacobson, teachers and staff members, while few, were not as amused. Eventually, they would thwart my effort to maintain order and discipline.

**Red on Black . . .**

At Jacobson Middle, the school dress code had been greatly misunderstood by some personnel, and regarded by others as too troublesome to enforce daily. Some teachers held the notion that uniform policies infringed upon a student's right of individual expression. My belief was that the enforcement of the school dress code was a most useful instrument in establishing the parameters of acceptable behavior in school. I believed that students that brought undue attention to themselves might also be flirting with potential danger. I often recommended to parents that they could help promote their children's achievement by adhering fully to all school rules and expectations—beginning with dress code requirements.

The saggy pants phenomenon was Jacobson's most passive-aggressive display of contempt for the norms of acceptable behavior. The farther down that the pants were suspended, the "badder" a student thought himself to be. For most saggy pant wearers at Jacobson, it was simply a youth culture look. Often, I would say, "Your behind is showing! Cover it up!" The shaming approach was usually effective in gaining compliance for the relatively harmless, culture conscious student. The bona fide gang member, however, was more likely to dig his heels in and resist further.

At Jacobson, students that bucked school rules usually began with some of the simple requirements. Early in the year, dress code enforcement was a useful tool for determining which students would require stern interventions to deal with a host of maladaptive behaviors. Defiance toward school personnel, fighting, and chronic disruption in class was likely to accompany a resistance to such simple requirements as shirt-tucking and shoe-strapping. As an assistant principal, I acted as a first line of defense for the faculty and staff—by helping to flush out pupils prone to chronic misbehavior.



While most personnel recognized the profoundly positive impact, there were a number of educational personnel that found dress code requirements exceedingly rigid, and in conflict with their professional priorities. One such faculty member was the long time PE coach, Mr. Romo. While he could not be faulted for job performance, he exhibited much resistance to dress code policies that he considered needless. Coach Romo did not think that the dress code enforcement should extend to the members of the sports team. Occasionally, I would bring dress code infractions to his attention while his students were conducting practice drills. That really chapped his hide. I had always held that even the athletics, or rather, especially the athletes, had to represent the school with no competing allegiances. In my view, students that could not dispense with their colors long enough to play on the football, basketball, or soccer team, could not be too positively oriented by their athletic team participation.

The issue came to a head at the beginning-of-year orientation when Coach Romo reported that a tennis shoe company had sent complementary shoes containing blue or red logos on them. Citing school dress code policy, I recommended that those shoes should either be returned, or given to the students to wear at home, but not to be worn on school time. Visibly agitated, he responded, "I want to know what the principal has to say about that!" I interjected, "The principal and I have had a lengthy discussion about the need to keep prohibited colors off of the school ground." As the principal and I had not discussed this matter, she could have censured me publicly by overturning my unilateral decision. The school dress code, however, was clear in its restriction of those colors. Although we never entered into a discussion about it later, I believe that the principal, having come from a tough high school on the north side, did not want to impede the obvious trend toward greater campus stability. For the time being, the coach would have to bite his tongue.

Not only did I doubt that the sports shoe manufacturers were unaware of how their products might potentially promote gang culture, but that the coach was uninformed of the well publicized gang preference for certain sports shoes, caps, and other wear throughout the country. The coach had been at Jacobson throughout its transformational period, from extreme chaos to relative peace. It was clear that a relationship existed between Jacobson's newfound period of tranquility and the removal of the colors and symbols of the youth and/or gang culture.

Tennis shoe companies were not the only contributors to the proliferation of gang colors in the Jacobson community. There were even local doctors and dentists involved in the greater gang-wear "conspiracy." For example, a pupil might have an injury, for argument's sake, an injured forearm during Coach Romo's team practice. In this hypothetical situation, the student gets an x-ray, and the doctor determines that the boy has a fractured ulna (as in one case that I recall). To heal this injury, a cast has to be placed on it. The doctor might have announced, "We now have colored cast materials! What color would you like?" The following day, that pupil showed up at school with the brightest blue or red cast on. The student knew that the ban on these colors would not be enforced under these circumstances. For the next two weeks, that student thumbed his nose at the school-wide ban on gang-related colors and paraphernalia while his forearm healed.

Admittedly, this may seem like a preposterous assertion. Nonetheless, I knew of at least one case in which a student was physically assaulted in the bathroom, even as he wore a cast on his arm—a red one! The existing injury brought that student no immunity from receiving a pummeling by his rivals. A similar scenario is played out at the orthodontist's office: "We now carry those mini rubber bands in various colors. Which color do you prefer?" The student could have chosen a non-restricted color, but the next day, he arrived with the brightest red or blue braces on his teeth.



Because of the highly successful restriction on red and blue footwear in my initial three years at Jacobson, students were continuously looking for loopholes. That was when the black patent leather shoe started to make a comeback. Although it was black, and should have otherwise been permitted, the fact that it could be spotted from a distance undermined the very purpose of the dress code. I had been successful in persuading the growing tide of patent leather shoe wearers to voluntarily replace them throughout the previous year. In the 2006-2007 school year, a student's father lodged a claim of harassment against me at the principal's office. His argument that there was no explicit restriction on black patent leather shoes was correct. The principal directed me to draft a proposed amendment to the school's dress code if I wanted the matter to be heard before the SBDM (site based decision making) committee.

I knew that I had to word it precisely or my opponents on the SBDM would take pleasure in rejecting it. I wrote:

Jacobson _Middle School,_ _recognizing patent leather footwear as a_

_resurgence of attire previously linked_ _to gang membership_ [in the

'70s and '80s] _, and to students exhibiting a propensity for anti-social_

behaviors such as defiance toward school personnel, fighting, and

_chronic_ _disruption of class instruction, hereby proposes to amend the_

_dress code with the following requirement:_ _No patent leather_

_footwear shall be permitted on_ _the campus, as it brings undue_

attention to its wearer, and has been historically associated with gang

membership in previous decades, therefore undermining the spirit of

' _Zero Tolerance' through a potential destabilization of the campus_

climate.

To my surprise, the majority of committee members were in agreement. Now, after being stymied for two months, I provided an amended copy of the dress code to the student in question with instructions to deliver it to her father. I could see her smirking as she purposely walked near me to gauge my reaction to her shiny shoes. There is a saying in the Latino world: ¡"El que ríe _ú_ ltimo, ríe mejor"! (He who has the last laugh, laughs the best!) She switched to an acceptable pair the next day without further debate from her father. Even without first securing SBDM approval, I had continued to insist that all other patent leather shoe wearers abide by my directives.

**The Ounce of Fear Hypothesis**

Teachers, substitutes, and parents were reporting a perceptibly positive change in Jacobson's environment that was being felt into the community. A neighborhood resident, and Sunday school instructor, Mr. John Bruce, reported what one rambunctious teen had described as a most unpleasant encounter with his assistant principal. It stemmed from his classroom misbehavior, and some defiant language directed at his teacher. I could not recall the specifics of this incident, however, I am certain that the student was removed from his classroom, and treated to a close range "attitudinal adjustment."

I could remember the feeling I had as a drill sergeant invaded my interpersonal comfort zone, within inches of my face. I could count the fillings in his teeth as he chewed me out with the tenacity of a pit bull. This was the manner in which I handled any defiant student, whether extracted from a classroom at the request of an instructor, or after reading the disciplinary report in the student's presence at a later date: "You told your teacher WHAT?!" The military style, face-to-face, intervention was successful nine out of ten times—with most students immediately deferring to my authority. Most of the students that received this treatment did not hold a grudge for long. After two or three weeks, they would come around and shake my hand. A student once inquired, "Remember when you yelled at me real ugly one time?" With a beaming smile, the student seemed to recall the experience fondly.



Upon reviewing the discipline report with descriptions of blatant hostility and disrespect toward teachers or staff members, I would signal the initiation of the behavioral remediation with the imperative, "Get on your FEET!" After closing in within six inches of their nose—students would receive a barrage of sprinkle laden "recommendations for improvement." Often, they would cock their faces left or right in an attempt to escape the blasts of my hot breath. "That's 'YES, SIR' to YOU!" was part of the corrective action where defiance toward school personnel was involved. In a telephone conversation with the parent of a misbehaving student, the mother insisted, "We tell our son that he does not have to respond 'Yes, sir' to anyone. All he has to do is speak politely. . . . My son is not in the military." I responded,

All due respect, ma'am, if your son does not like to respond 'Yes, sir'

to adult males, I suggest that he should do everything in his power

to stay out of my office. I do require students to address me in that

manner when they are here for disciplinary reasons.

A student's attitude and behavior sometimes suggested that something had gone terribly wrong in their upbringing. In the majority of cases, however, it was nothing more than a temporary lapse in judgment. The behavioral remediation was quick, with a noticeable improvement in their conduct being reported in the following weeks. Besides bruised feelings, defiant students came away with a newfound respect for school personnel, and often, a first time self-reflection of the long term consequences of continued misconduct.

As middle schoolers, most students were still small when entering the sixth grade. By eighth grade, however, many of them were considerably bigger—and much bolder. On more than one occasion, an older student had thrown his backpack down, and put up his dukes, in preparation for a physical exchange with me. Often, it was only a show of bravado to save face with his classmates. I would then reach for my walkie-talkie, and pretend to call the campus officer: "Officer Douglas, could you meet me by the exit gate?!" Usually, that was enough to put the student into flight mode. If that bluff did not work, then my second call was heard over the school's radio wavelength. I could only hope that some nearby radio-carrying personnel might assist me in containing the bellicose student. At that moment, I knew that Officer Douglas might be occupied on the opposite side of the campus.

[The behavioral transformation at Jacobson reminded me of a nature special that I later saw. Male juvenile elephants in Pilanesberg National Park, South Africa were agitated by the slightest of provocations. They attacked other denizens of the reserve at will, and had already dispatched a number of rhinos. The villagers adjacent to the park were in constant fear for their lives. Park zoologists came up with an interesting solution. They transported several adult males into their midst. Unable to overpower, or instill fear in these adults, the younger males fell into a more acceptable pattern of behavior almost at once. It is said that the scent of the dominant bull elephants, alone, triggered a dramatic attitudinal shift in them. As reported in the documentary, their rogue behavior had resulted from a lack of social interaction with adult elephants. They had been relocated when their parents were culled from the herd due to overcrowding. For the most part, these young elephants had raised themselves].

At Jacobson, even with scores of student confrontations over the years, and having been shoved occasionally, I was never struck by a closed fist. Word had gotten around in the community about the unpleasant consequences that would invariably be triggered by acts of disrespect toward school personnel. In the face of student defiance, I never backed down, nor did I attempt to de-escalate a volatile situation through negotiation. I referred to my administrative response as the Red Adair approach to student incivility. I had to extinguish those flames immediately, or risk losing control of student behavior. By my third year at Jacobson, defiance toward school personnel had diminished considerably, largely due to my predictable response, and the consistent backing of Officer Douglas.



In my final two years at Jacobson, a number of behaviorally challenged students who exhibited no interest in organized sports or any other school activity, began to join a fellow teacher, Hal Selinski, and me at the gym for an after-school weightlifting session. We started this activity for our own benefit, but were soon spotted by a couple of students. They asked if they could join us. New recruits multiplied in the following weeks. On one occasion, I heard a classmate encouraging a hesitant, recently disciplined companion, "Come in! He won't say anything to you." The wary pupil began to work out with his friend. He would look in my direction, occasionally, to gauge the receptiveness to his presence. Weeks later, I was spotting him as he completed his repetitions on the weight bench.

A special bond had developed between these marginalized students and us. Soon, some of our former students, now attending the local high school, caught wind of our workouts. Hal and I saw this interaction as being a highly positive self-esteem builder for our students. Our former students were required to remove the colors from their so-called school uniform before entering. I remember mentioning to Hal that, with the exception of a few individuals, I had had close encounters with each of these students over the previous years. I believed that those students had come to appreciate my tough stance on discipline as true caring _,_ something that I was compelled to do—for their own good.

**The DAEP Candidate**

I always gave errant students an opportunity to redeem themselves. Only as a last resort would I recommend placement at the DAEP (disciplinary alternative educational program). I averaged about 25 placements per year, about half of them being mandatory according to school district and state guidelines. Those would have been the heavy duty offenses such as assaults, weapons, and drugs. Unlike some of my fellow assistant principals, I always insisted on giving students the least amount of placement time possible. I knew that there was a fine line between the beneficial and harmful impacts of DAEP placement—closely associated with the length of their placement.

The greatest drawback of a DAEP placement was that students would be surrounded by some of the district's most incorrigible element. Although students were required to wear uniforms, red, blue, and black clothing items were easily detected whenever I visited the facility. This marginal segment of the school population, attending a DAEP for a host of anti-social behaviors, was much more likely to be gang-affiliated than their peers within the general school population. It seemed to me rather odd that an organization, whose _raison d'etre_ was to rehabilitate youth, and allow them to return to a productive and meaningful educational experience, would overlook the connection between these well publicized gang colors and their anti-social manifestations.

When applied judiciously and conscientiously, I believed that a DAEP placement would result in positive outcomes for Jacobson's youth. This was especially true if the parent or guardian remained supportive of the school's disciplinary action by choosing a tough love approach. I cautioned parents, "Always drop them off, and pick them up, if possible. The real problem begins before they enter, and after they leave the DAEP facility. Some of them run around in the neighborhood, in packs, unsupervised." At times, students would return from the DAEP like born-again Christians _._ Other times, they might return even more socially maladjusted. Beside the length of stay in an environment that exposed them to equally misbehaving youths, there were other factors involved in the outcome of DAEP placement. Some students had extremely unstable home lives, with little structure.



A student named Elsa Contreras came to mind. Her growing string of infractions included several instances of fighting, and defiance toward school personnel. I knew that she had a troubled home life, so I was reluctant to recommend a DAEP placement. At some point, her teachers would view my less punitive action as a hindrance to their authority and instruction. I decided that the time for her removal had come after a short burst of new infractions in the new year. Judging by the company that she was keeping, I also suspected that she was smoking illicit substances, marijuana or blunts, before or during the school day. Her mother had previously expressed her full support of school administration in Elsa's presence.

After summoning her to my office, I said, "Elsa, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you." She gave me a puzzled look. I continued, "When a student's behavior is in a downward spiral, someone has to stand in the way of their destructive path. Today, it is MY turn! You will be attending the DAEP for the remainder of the year." Reminiscent of a scene in the movie _The Exorcist,_ at that instant, the rage in her eyes signaled a flashpoint. She began to hyperventilate as her smiling face turned into an evil snarl. Without taking her unblinking eyes off of me, she launched all of the files and materials on my desk into the wall. She would have probably struck me, as well, if I had not thrust myself backward on my rolling chair. Officer Douglas, who was in the adjacent office as her fury was unleashed, immediately stepped in to escort Elsa out. He had often counseled her during some of her visits to my office for disciplinary matters.

After successfully completing her time at the DAEP, Elsa came back to visit Jacobson. She announced that she has been accepted to a high school magnet program for law enforcement. She gave Officer Douglas a hug, and then gave me one as well. I could not help getting choked up after her departure. As Officer Douglas had concluded on the day of her meltdown, all she needed was for someone to care enough to stand in the way of her unacceptable behavior.

**Parenting Gone Wrong**

At times, student misbehavior at Jacobson could be attributed to an emotional disturbance or an intellectual deficiency. Occasionally, upon meeting the parents of an incorrigible youth, I came away with the distinct belief that poor parenting was the root of the problem. This was the case with a student named Willy Perales. Willy was accused of pulling a butterfly knife on a student that taunted him on the way home after school. When his father arrived at school to confer with school administrators, he had a bandage across the bridge of his nose. He reported that his son had become increasingly violent over the past several months. One incident led to a verbal and physical confrontation in which his son struck him with a closed fist on the nose when he refused to drive him to his girlfriend's home in the late evening. He also reported that, months before, an older son had caused him to fracture a leg in a similar physical exchange. I could hardly keep a straight face as he described his misfortunes.

Mr. Perales requested that his son receive counseling services immediately. Willy, however, was facing a possible _Assault with a Deadly Weapon_ charge. He was going to be transported, that is, taken into police custody pending further investigation of the case. His father had already confirmed that he did have a butterfly knife similar to the one described by the victim. Willy's father wrote, and signed, a short statement to that effect. Before leaving, Mr. Perales stated that the primary cause of all his difficulties with his sons was his wife's continuous interference with his attempts to discipline them since childhood. With the evidence provided, Willy was taken into custody. Approximately two hours later, Mr. Perales was back with his obnoxious wife alongside. He was recanting everything now that his son had been taken by law enforcement officers. The mother was highly accusatory toward me, stating that I had intentionally misled her husband into giving information under false pretenses.

Six weeks later, the case was finally before the judge. Willy had spent this time in custody at the juvenile detention center. As the string of county youth offenders came down the hallway in their bright orange apparel, with Willy shackled at the ankle to five others, Mrs. Perales and her daughter began to wail uncontrollably in the crowded hallway adjacent to the courtroom. Willy's mother then turned her sights onto me and screamed, ¡"T _ú_ –T _ú_ fuiste! ¡ERES RESPONSABLE POR ESTO"! (You—you did it! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS!) Evidently, the role of poor parenting—as the likely source of her son's wayward behavior—had never crossed her mind!

**Undermining of In Loco Parentis**

The doctrine of _in loco parentis_ forms the basis by which educational personnel interact with, and are responsible for, students throughout the day. In order for parents to feel confident in their child's total well-being, that is, academic, social, and personal safety concerns, school personnel encompass a role that extends far beyond instruction. This includes the correction of student behavior that may impede their academic performance. At Jacobson, dealing with student disciplinary problems was a facet of education that its novice teachers had never anticipated during their certification training. Student disrespect, aggression, and classroom disruption was an ever-present concern. A teacher's ability to deliver instruction rested on whether students remained receptive to their efforts.

The authority of Jacobson's personnel in managing student behavior had been restricted to the point that they relied heavily on school administration to establish and maintain campus wide discipline. While teachers at Jacobson were responsible for the promotion of structure and order within their class, few of them were willing, or able, to extend their authority beyond that limited space. They had come to fear the repercussions of standing up to student incivility—that included getting "written up" by administration. The possibility of job loss was not unheard of should they be branded as being overly aggressive toward non-compliant and disrespectful students. For that reason, primarily, many teachers preferred to retreat from students exhibiting the most maladaptive behaviors. "That's why the administrators get paid the big bucks!" some may have reasoned. Confronting the most challenging students was much too risky to their livelihood and professional standing.

As a result, only a core group of personnel, primarily grade-level administrators, campus security, and a law enforcement officer, were relied upon to enforce school behavioral norms. At Jacobson, two decades of out-of-control student behavior ensured that this would be a monumental task. The effort to contain and redirect student misbehavior was often opposed by the parents and guardians least likely to assume responsibility for their children's misconduct. A steady stream of parent complaints at the school district administration office was expected as the latest drive to establish campus safety and order was underway in the 2003-2004 school year. Officer Douglas had remarked, "If you don't have some complaints, chances are that you are not making a difference." Higher administration had recently threatened me with a written reprimand should another parent lodge a complaint at the regional office.



In response to the considerable challenge of maintaining school-wide discipline for 1,200 students as one of two remaining assistant principals, I could not afford to employ a soft or diplomatic approach. I had to ensure that a perception of school wide permissiveness did not continue to grow. I knew that students would be emboldened to act out continuously, and their teachers would be increasingly frustrated by ineffective administrative responses to school disciplinary problems. To my knowledge, nothing in the law prohibited me from increasing my tone several decibels, and posturing aggressively, in response to the most blatant anti-authority student behavior.

Disapproving parents would sometimes complain when I raised my voice in response to their children's misconduct. Some argued, "We don't speak that way toward our child. We like to sit down and talk calmly." "Obviously that has worked well!" responded the facetious voice in my head. _"Ma'am/Sir, respectfully, my primary responsibility as an assistant principal is to maintain safety and order for the entire student body. Our counselor might be able to sit down with your son/daughter and determine the underlying cause of their chronic misbehavior."_ As far as I was concerned, middle school kids were solely responsible for their own behavior.



In the relatively peaceful 2007-2008 school year, the daughter of a school paraprofessional, Mrs. Manzano, had continually become more resistant toward me. When reminded that she must get to class before the bell sounded, she would roll her eyes, frown, and continue to drag her feet, literally, by purposely slowing her pace at the urging of her class companion. Finally, after losing count of the number of warnings that I had given her, I saw that Marla and her friend were, once again, baby-stepping toward their classroom well after the bell had rung. I swooped in swiftly from behind like a stealthy owl zeroing in on a vole. Within two feet of the back of their craniums, I let loose a barrage of fresh recommendations for improvement: "I have asked each of you COUNTLESS TIMES over the past TWO WEEKS to get into your classroom BEFORE the bell rings. What do you NOT UNDERSTAND [sic] about my order TO YOU!?" The startled girls picked up their pace immediately, as Marla broke into a flood of tears due to the frightening encounter. I knew that I would have to later defend my action in this hair-raising ordeal. Beside the fact that Marla was the daughter of the campus employee, both girls were Mrs. Alvarado's pets in the school's Elite program.

About a half-hour later, an incensed Mrs. Manzano charged into my office. With her index finger shaking vigorously at me, and a reddened face, she shrieked, "You are NOT going to SCREAM at my daughter's face like that AGAIN! I'M WARNING YOU! I've seen the way that you get in the students' faces!" I responded:

No, Mrs. Manzano, I will not ever have to get in your daughter's

face again, provided that you go home today and have a talk with

her, instructing her that the next time that her assistant principal

tells her to 'GET MOVING,' or gives her any other command, she will

do the appropriate thing by abiding IMMEDIATELY. She will learn

to do what I say—when I tell her to do it—like every other student

here!

As she turned away to walk out, I added, "Mrs. Manzano, you've been here at Jacobson many years. You should still remember what students were like not too long ago!" It would take several months before she looked me in the face again, but eventually, we resumed a cordial and professional relationship. Her daughter, Marla, was not seen running late in the hallway for the remainder of the year.



Some of the teachers were surprised to find that I was not necessarily a proponent of corporal punishment. I was glad to say that I never had to resort to the use of a paddle as an assistant principal, as this was expressly forbidden in my school district. I considered this squarely the role of the parent. But like many of my generation, who received a swat or two throughout our schooling years, I could not discount its effectiveness as a corrective measure of last resort. As an assistant principal dealing with daily student misconduct, it was clear that some parents had been negligent—evidenced by their own accounts of permissiveness during their child's formative years. As a result, I often had to rein-in a youth whose mouth knew no boundaries, and whose misdeeds were sometimes defended by individuals unwilling to accept responsibility for their dismal parenting skills.

One very tense moment with an eighth-grade female named Erica Medrano came to mind. She had come to my attention in the hallway between first and second period. Erica had a so-called "baby blue" comb protruding well-above her back pocket, and graffiti scribbled in light-blue marker all over her folders. I stopped her immediately, and demanded that she relinquish the prohibited items. She then begged, "Let me put it away. I will put it away!" I was normally willing to entertain a pupil's request if they first deferred to authority. "Ok, put it up, or it's mine." Just before lunchtime, I again ran into the same student, displaying the colored items that she had promised to remove. I said, "Let me see your notebook." She handed it to me. I then opened it up, and removed its contents. "You may pick this up after school." Infuriated, she screamed, "GIVE ME MY DAMNED STUFF!"

Erica then attempted to reach for her folder, as I repeated, "You can pick it up after school. I gave you an opportunity to take care of it earlier." Officer Douglas was standing about thirty feet away, where the hallway made a ninety degree turn toward the cafeteria. He was watching the entire episode unfold from the moment that she first screamed in the hall. Even as he approached, the furious girl continued to repeat, "This is BULLSHIT! Give me MY DAMNED STUFF!" to which I would calmly reply with a nod, "No." As I handed her the contents, she made another hasty grab for her folder. In the exchange, all of her class work and assignments fell to the floor. I gathered them up, and she aggressively took possession of her materials. She then stormed off directly to the main office, threatening to call her mother. I knew that her mom would waste no time getting over to the school.

By the end of the last lunch period, I was informed that Erica's mother and sister were already seated in the main office waiting area ready to meet with the principal. As I walked over to the principal's office through the foyer after the lunch period was over, the mother kept repeating audibly, "Mister, you went too far. You went too far this time!" I ignored her and kept walking as I thought about her daughter's extreme anti-authority behavior. In the parent–administrator conference that followed, Officer Douglas was able to corroborate my version of events, and the principal, already familiar with this girl's behavioral issues, did not find evidence of inappropriate action on my part. The girl's mother argued that I had intentionally thrown her daughter's materials on the floor while she was trying to comply fully. I explained, "I gave her three hours to 'comply fully' after initially bringing those violations to her attention."

The next morning, as I was monitoring students about twenty minutes before the bell rang, out of the corner of my eye, the still incensed mother came out of the parking lot, wagging her finger at me from a distance, and clicking her heels clamorously on the sidewalk—clack, clack, clack. As she approached within several paces, between gasps of air, she uttered from a wretched face, "I'm on my way to the school district office!" I calmly responded, "Well, ma'am, it is your prerogative to take this matter to the higher administration." She turned in a huff, and headed back to her vehicle. I never heard about this incident again, but I assume that the principal's boss called to investigate the matter at a later date.

Enabling individuals like this one, whose out-of-control children operated with the full consent of their parents or guardians, were not as common as one might think. I took those threats in stride, knowing that the corrective action that I had taken with the student fell within my _in loco parentis_ obligations as a school assistant principal, in spite of an irresponsible parent's view.



In yet another case, a confrontational father had a bone to pick with me after his son was suspended. He made his way directly through the main office to my doorway and declared, "You think you're real tough when you have an officer to protect you!" I responded, "He's here to protect YOU, not me!" Officer Douglas, who was listening next door, promptly escorted him out of the building.

Factoring In Cultural Awareness (III)

**The Handshake Game**

The daily greeting and handshake did much to help me establish a personal relationship with the student body. At times, a student might arrive at school with an angry demeanor, built up over the weekend or overnight. Much like a capacitor storing electricity, they were waiting to discharge their amperage on an unsuspecting classmate or teacher. I was convinced that by making physical contact with as many students as possible, I was able to dissipate much of the dangerous charge before it made its way into the classroom. I shook student hands at every opportunity, employing various styles. Whether it was a straight business-like handshake, with fingers firm and extended, or one of those "barrio handshakes," it accomplished the same basic socialization need. I was known to give the boys a knuckle-cruncher. I was more careful when shaking a female's hand—especially if she, in violation of dress code, had more than one ring on her hand.

From the front gate, I could see boys approaching with mischievous smiles—preparing by flexing their right hand. If they were able to catch me off guard with a weak grip, they were sure to give me a vigorous squeeze. "I GOT HIM! I heard his fingers pop!" That was payback for some previous handshake in which I had released my grip upon seeing a wincing smile or a contortion of their body. Scores of young boys at Jacobson relished the opportunity to get back at me with a crunching handshake. The continuous hand-shaking happened throughout the school day, at every passing period, in every hallway where we met, in the cafeteria, gym, and, sometimes, in the classrooms that I went to observe. The kids loved to play the handshake game with me. I demonstrated that I was not always in rule enforcement mode. In my first year at Jacobson, my fellow assistant principal, Mrs. de la Rosa, much feared by the misbehaving crowd due to her hair-triggered DAEP placement approach, commented on my student interaction with distrust. With a perplexed look, she stated, "I know why you shake their hands so much!" but then offered no further explanation.

It was not unusual for a recently disciplined student to refuse to shake my hand. Other students found humor in that: "AWW, he left you hangin'!" Sometimes it took five or six attempts, over a period of weeks, before a resistant student finally relented, and shook my hand. I believed that the continuous hand-shaking helped to increase administrator-student respect and trust. As I rigorously enforced school rules with one hand, I rewarded socially acceptable behavior with the other. The dynamic of the two actions, working in unison, had a positive multiplier effect.

Students that were sent off to the DAEP from 30 to 180 school days would find my extended hand awaiting them upon their return. I would ask, "Where have you been!? I haven't seen you for a while." "You sent me to JEP!" "Oh, you mean, you sent YOURSELF to JEP!? What did YOU do?" Often, I could not recall what their final infraction had been. With dismay, students would respond, "I was disrespectful to my teachers," or "I was fighting too much." "Well, it's never too late to start again. Now you have a second chance to make a good impression. Welcome back!" Rarely was a student so rancorous, after a DAEP placement, as to refuse to shake my hand at all.

**The Curative Power of Spanish**

As an assistant principal, I was able to test some hypotheses that had emerged from the ethnographic study. I had reviewed data suggesting that the core values of self-discipline and respect in school were linked to language maintenance for both Asian and Latino respondents _._ In Latino culture, for example, the demonstration of respect toward parents, elders, and persons of higher status is clearly differentiated from the daily language used with peers. The form known as _usted_ is used, reserving the _tu_ form for persons of equal status. Spanish-speaking youth, like their Asian counterparts, were careful to employ language rules that ensured the utmost respect toward elders and authority figures—including teachers and school administrators.

For students at Jacobson, a predominately Latino school, the loss of the Spanish language seemed to precipitate an erosion in their ethic of respect. I observed the most defiant Latino youth that came to my office for nearly seven years. I often used Spanish, along with English, when addressing misbehaving pupils. When pressed to respond in Spanish, extremely defiant students exhibited an intense hostility that corresponded to their lack of fluency. A loud and disrespectful "I don't SPEAK SPANISH!" was a common response. I persisted, knowing that if these students were able to communicate in Spanish, even moderately well, they were immediately bound by the mores that the culture's language conveys.

At Jacobson, students that spoke Spanish fluently were less likely to lash out in a Spanish-speaking dialogue, than their monolingual English-speaking counterparts. The Spanish language apparatus acted like a powerful tractor beam to help reel-in the recalcitrant student. Although there were always exceptions, the immigrant Latino was far more likely to defer to authority figures in school in a Spanish-speaking dialogue than an assimilated, yet socially maladjusted, English-dominant student.

Non-Spanish-speaking Latino students were likely to view themselves in an adversarial role with respect to the immigrants. Student ethnic inferiorities were exposed as they distanced themselves from the stigmatized immigrant Latino. In a confrontation between monolingual English-speaking Latinos and Spanish-speaking English Language Learning (ELL) students at Jacobson, the monolingual English speaker often claimed that the Spanish speaker was saying things to provoke him. In investigating the cause of an altercation, one fighter responded, "I don't know what he was saying! I'M NOT FROM 'METS-ACO'!"

A positively oriented bilingual Latino was not likely to view the Spanish language with disdain, and thus, had no reason to become defensive when surrounded by Spanish-speaking immigrants. A monolingual English-speaking Latino sometimes experienced feelings of alienation in contact with both, Spanish dominant ethnic group members, as well as the English-speaking mainstream. They were afflicted by the deepest of inferiority complexes—keeping them at arm's length from the more positively oriented bilingual component, as well as the monolingual Spanish speaker.

At Jacobson, a monolingual English-speaking Latino parent, upon being addressed with a courteous ¡"Buenos días"! might snap back with a most indignant, "You can speak to me in English! I SPEAK ENGLISH!" At times, their children in school also exhibited antagonism toward Spanish-dominant students. Such a reaction indicated a perception of Spanish language maintenance as a badge of inferiority. This minority representation of the Latino community, as products of extreme social alienation, often engendered the most socially maladapted youth in the Jacobson community.

**Validating Student Language**

At Jacobson, many teachers strived to make a cultural connection with the Latino community. With their classes being composed almost entirely of Latino students, teachers knew that banning the home language in class was a futile undertaking. Instead, many of Jacobson's teachers chose to develop basic Spanish language skills. Those teachers with as much as a rudimentary knowledge of Spanish would rarely exhibit insecurity, much less displeasure, toward Spanish language use in class. They would use whatever second language abilities that they possessed to establish greater rapport and trust.

This was the case with my friend and colleague Hal. The kids would hear him use daily phrases such as ¡"Silencio por favor, mis niños"! (Silence please, my children!) He often used comical phrases and terms that he had learned over the years while working in Latino community schools. Hal was often heard practicing Spanish with the custodial staff, mostly immigrant Latinos, at every opportunity—and he could hold his own in a telephone conversation with Spanish-speaking parents. In the classroom, rather than "Don't speak Spanish!" you could him say, ¿"Como se dice ________"? (How do you say__________?) Latino students in Hal's class had no doubt that he held their home language and culture in high esteem.

At Turner Middle, a strictly monolingual English-speaking teacher was more likely to become irritated, then intolerant, toward Spanish language use in the classroom. They might exhibit paranoia in believing that students used Spanish, primarily, to undermine their authority. The perturbed teacher finally lashed out with the senseless reprimand: "You need to SPEAK ENGLISH! Your test [standardized exam] will be IN ENGLISH!" The inflexible teacher, rather than striving toward the development of intercultural understanding, precluded the establishment of unconditional respect and trust upon which the student-teacher relationship rests. Some African-American students picked up on these cues from their teacher's response—and assisted in shaming classmates that spoke Spanish in class. In this manner, the teacher's contempt for Latino culture found an unwitting host for the propagation of human intolerance.

But even at Jacobson, having long been a predominately Latino school, there were occasional cultural misunderstandings. For example, immigrant Latinos often addressed their teacher as "Mister" or "Miss" without affixing the surname. This drove Jacobson's English language purists crazy. An exasperated teacher repeatedly reminded students, "My name is not 'Miss'! It is Ms. Johnson!" I once explained this unintentional language error. She replied, "AAH—Don't give me that cultural misunderstanding excuse! I've heard that too many times." As a direct translation of utmost respect, saying "Miss" (señorita) or "Mister" (señor) in Spanish is never done with malicious intent.

Latino students at Jacobson were less likely to resist teachers that understood and supported their bicultural identity development. Educators like Hal demonstrated an awareness of the beneficial role of ethnic identity in practically every aspect of their student's social, academic, and psychological well-being. They accepted and incorporated student language and culture as part of their daily practice.

Maintaining Campus Stability (IV)

**What Goes 'round Comes 'round**

I lost count of how many encounters I had with one particular student from the BAC (behavior accommodation class) named Antonio Gutierrez. Every time that he fled from his classroom, I was called out to retrieve him. There was no doubt that he had an emotional disturbance. Usually when he left class without permission, he had one sole mission in mind: To Wreak Havoc! As he ran down the hallway, he peered into each room briefly to receive as much attention from his schoolmates as possible. He would then flip someone off or throw a gang sign. If challenged by a teacher or staff member, he would flee down a staircase while issuing a stream of expletives. For an administrator charged with student safety and security, I always made it my first priority to contain a rampaging class fugitive.

Unless the student decided to make an unauthorized exit from the campus, I was usually able to apprehend him with the aid of the camera monitor and chase team. Needless to say, I was not too happy upon his capture—having to participate in an unintended afternoon workout. A reprimand was sure to come with an additional shoe "immobilization." Antonio had a hard time bolting with my shoe pressing onto his toes.

His mother came in with an out-spoken sister as interpreter. They were both quite angry when I proposed that a DAEP placement was likely. Antonio's discipline folder was one of the thickest I had seen. The only reason that he was still at Jacobson was due to his special education status. He was caught with marijuana twice, being under the influence and in possession of it, plus numerous violations of the Code of Conduct. It took a lot of extra work to get an ARD completed in order to determine whether the student misbehavior might be linked to his learning disability. For that reason, students with special education labels could count on remaining on campus long after committing offenses requiring a mandatory placement at the DAEP.

As Antonio's sister became highly agitated and accusatory, I made a request to the principal: "This young lady is neither the parent nor guardian of the student in question. I am requesting that she be dismissed from this parent meeting." The principal knew that Antonio's sister did not have a right to be there, even as an interpreter for her mother. The principal was perfectly bilingual. Having made her concerns heard, Antonio's mother struggled to stand upright out of her chair. She then said with indignation, ¿"Y como se siente cuando le pisan los zapatos a usted"? (And how does it feel when someone steps on your shoes!?) She wobbled unsteadily toward me, and gave my shoes a good scuffing. I replied, ¡"Se siente bien, señora"! (It feels good, Ma'am!).

Antonio's disciplinary record had grown considerably from the first time that I heard his name mentioned. He was a sixth-grader then. Allegedly, a student had pulled a butterfly knife on him as he walked home, innocently, after school (in the Willy Perales incident). I was now fully convinced that Antonio was no saint. He had easily come into his own as one of Jacobson's most chronic troublemakers. Reportedly, he and his fellow BAC classmates had formed a new off-shoot gang in the neighborhood, the now notorious Lil' Bandits. They were out to make a name for themselves the tried and tested way, that is, violent acts, home burglaries, and narcotics sales.



In the 2005-2006 school year, a student named Fernando Luna was sent to the office. He was known for being an irrepressible youth throughout his years at Jacobson. On one occasion, he fled from my office as I gave him a chew-out for his unceasing disrespect. Although he had a good head start, I was quickly gaining on him. Even as a recreational jogger, I could run nearly as fast as most of the young guys at Jacobson. Fernando, like many of the community's young males, had a disadvantage that hampered his athletic abilities. As Officer Douglas had observed previously, a student about to flee always signaled their intention. They would reach high on their waistline, and pull their saggy pants up by the belt loop about three inches. Fernando had done just that, in my presence, prior to darting out. I had no intention of stopping him.

As I came within ten feet of him in my pursuit, Fernando scrambled for the nearest exit stairwell. Officer Douglas, who had been alerted, came around the corner about fifty feet away, in time to catch a glimpse of my outstretched arm nearly touching his shoulder. I yelled, "STOP! NOW!" but otherwise made no real effort to seize him in motion. Fernando made his escape through the exit door, and then headed straight for the fence-line. The fence was over six feet in height. I made a lot of noise, but actually slowed down to half step. I could have grasped him several times, but experience had taught me to wait for assistance before making physical contact.

I knew that, given the opportunity, Fernando would try to scale the fence. He had done this before. First, he had to release the hold on his belt loop. I expected that to be problematic, from a wardrobe perspective. As he slid over, the loose pants somehow got caught on the top of the fence. Fernando body-slammed onto the sidewalk below. He got up, grimacing in pain, then grabbed a hold of the belt loop once again. He hobbled away slowly, with plenty of expletives left for me. Once certain that no serious injury had occurred, I could not help but laugh at this comical situation.

On another occasion, Fernando was incapable of running. He was clearly under the influence of a foreign substance. He was slurring tremendously, and he could hardly sit upright. Without much interrogation, he divulged exactly what that substance was. He had taken some Xanax pills, commonly known as "bars" in the colloquial inner-city ward lingo, a prescription drug that seemed to be a favorite in the area schools. It is said that one pill's effect was roughly equal to an entire six-pack of beer. I often referred to it as "truth serum" because of the ease by which students gave up all their best kept secrets. It was nearly impossible for students to lie under its influence. Upon being questioned by Officer Douglas, and another assistant principal, Fernando detailed how many pills were distributed in the morning, and to whom. As a result of that truth serum, my ethics as a school assistant principal were tested. My insistence on non-preferential treatment toward one of the implicated students would lead to a mini-scandal at Jacobson.

**Enabling Strategy Revealed**

The student named by Fernando as the person that requested and received a bar that morning was considered the sweetheart of the Elite program. Her name was Adrienne Fournier. By all accounts, Adrienne was a stellar student, with respectable grades and conduct. To my knowledge, she had only been sent to the office before for some minor infraction. Her mother served on the school's parent advisory committee. I understood that her parents were in the middle of a highly contentious divorce. Turmoil in Adrienne's home life was most likely the source of her sudden behavioral downturn. But what was most disturbing to me was the company that she was now keeping. Another proverb in the Latino world comes to mind: ¡ "Dime con qui _é_ n andas, y te dir _é_ qui _é_ n eres"! (Tell me who you are with, and I'll tell you who you are!) I had spotted her several times outside after school conversing with Jacobson's premier scoundrel, but almost in a secretive boyfriend-girlfriend way. This was none other than Antonio, of BAC (behavior accommodation class) notoriety. Despite my concern, I found no reason to interfere in their budding friendship or relationship.

Now, Adrienne admitted that she had received half of one bar from Fernando, but then decided to flush it down the toilet. Considering the timeline involved, it was clear that her decision to dispose of the bar was made after Fernando was taken by Officer Douglas for further questioning. The Code of Conduct was unequivocal. Any student under the influence, or in possession of (to include an admission of possessing) an illicit substance would require some DAEP placement time. It was evident to me that Adrienne was dabbling in minor drug use, so I planned to recommend the minimal thirty days at JEP.

Immediately, Mrs. Alvarado **,** in charge of the school's Elite program, was in a closed-door session with the principal. She and the principal knew that I would insist that Adrienne suffer the same consequences required of any student involved with illicit substances. I had recommended five students in the past three weeks for similar charges involving marijuana use in the bathroom. "Why should this case be any different?" I reasoned. Amongst themselves, they had already agreed that Adrienne was not "that kind of girl," and therefore, should not suffer the indignity of DAEP placement. I knew that, ultimately, the principal had the final say as to whether a student would serve time at the alternative setting or not, but I did not have to like it!

Adrienne's father was scheduled to come by after school to receive more details regarding her suspension. Once he arrived, with Adrienne at his side, I described how school personnel had discovered his daughter's involvement. Then, we discussed the consequences that I was obligated to recommend by state law. Mr. Fournier then asked to speak with me in private. Adrienne stepped out into the waiting area. He expressed that a DAEP placement was unfounded. I then informed him of his daughter's association with, possibly, the most unsavory character in school—a student that had already been identified as a drug user, and was suspected of selling them as well. That seemed not the least disconcerting to him as he nonchalantly declared, "It's not like Xanax is a 'real drug.' Those are prescription drugs that you can get over the counter."

At that moment, I could no longer contain the antipathy toward everything that this father represented. His attempt to dismiss a charge of such gravity, one that could have lifelong implications for his daughter, was simply appalling to me. With great hostility and suddenness, I reached for my walkie-talkie to call Officer Douglas. I wanted him to talk some sense into this person. Certainly, the officer would be able to convince Mr. Fournier of the seriousness of this violation. Unfortunately, Officer Douglas was unable to respond. Shocked by my reaction, Mr. Fournier stormed out of my office to speak to the principal.

I have always regretted what transpired in the meeting that day. I had not handled myself in a manner becoming a school administrator. I received a copy of Mr. Fournier's letter protesting my unprofessional treatment toward him three days later. In part, he stated,

I respectfully expressed my misgivings about his approach to the

disciplinary action he expressed taking with Adrienne. At this

point, Mr. Diaz became disrespectful toward me in his words, tone,

and demeanor . . . After he removed his walkie-talkie from his waist

clip, he proceeded to call the school security, which is a licensed

state peace officer, for assistance with me. The brisk and angry

manner that he drew the radio from his side, for an instance,

frightened me into believing that he was drawing a gun.

Given the opportunity to apologize to Mr. Fournier, I would do so. Then, I might update him regarding the criminal activities of the boy that I expressed concern about during our unpleasant meeting. Antonio Gutierrez is now in the state penitentiary. He was the second boy that I knew personally from the BAC class at Jacobson involved in the brutal attempted carjacking of an innocent family in Texas City. His daughter was playing with fire long before she was implicated in the Xanax possession case.

Adrienne managed to wriggle out of any consequences intended to redirect her behavior. As a result, I requested that the five students previously sent for marijuana use should have their placement order rescinded as well. This negotiated settlement presented a moral dilemma for me. The slap on the wrist most likely gave them a green light for the resumption of marijuana use. The students were left to speculate as to why they were released from the DAEP after serving less than three weeks.

**The New Jacobson**

By the end of the 2005-2006 school year, Jacobson had made an incredible transformation from one of the most unstable and violent inner-city schools to a relatively tranquil learning environment. Officer Douglas shared a parent's comment from the minutes of a community meeting with the superintendent a few weeks earlier. It stated: _"I feel more confident in my son's safety at_ [Jacobson] _Middle School than I thought I would. This school is much improved."_ The tide had turned against the purveyors of school violence and instability. Teachers and staff members stepped up in support of a growing perception of safety and order in the campus environment.

Students were rarely seen travelling to and from classes without a teacher or staff member at their side. From the moment that students arrived on campus, there were rules to be observed. Strict adherence to the dress code was the first requirement before entering the cafeteria for breakfast. Students were not permitted to sit wherever they pleased. As some left, others took their place, on a few designated rows. If a student's activity was disruptive, they were immediately challenged by cafeteria and janitorial personnel. Students that intentionally dirtied the cafeteria were held accountable for its cleanup. If they refused to comply, their grade-level administrator was quickly summoned. After enjoying their breakfast, students were ushered to different parts of the campus, and grouped by grade level. There, they sat quietly in rows, awaiting their teachers to escort them to class.

After the morning bell rang, all teachers descended to their respective staging area to pick up their pupils. Students proceeded to their classroom in an orderly and safe manner, in rows, or as students sometimes protested, "just like elementary school kids!" The emphasis on providing structure paid off great dividends as students became increasingly accustomed to entering class, and between classes, in a timely and orderly manner. By my fourth year at Jacobson, minor dress code violations remained as the most significant daily misbehaviors. Student civility, while occasionally threatened by an afterschool, off campus fight, was now the rule rather than the exception. For the most part, students had learned to respect Jacobson Middle School as their community's learning institution.

Teacher substitutes often remarked about how impressed they were by Jacobson's student behavior, and their willingness to comply with simple directives. They had seen far worse in most of the area schools that they visited. For more than three years, no food fights had been recorded at Jacobson. Since our pupils did not have the liberty to move about, an administrator on duty could easily identify a student that left an untidy table. If a student refused to clean up after themselves, and the culprit was not identified, the responsibility fell on all students found at that table.

As I walked about non-stop, I would simply point to a piece of trash or food next to a student. Any reluctance to clean up would be followed by an immediate consequence. Repeated over time, students could easily predict the outcome of their failure to cooperate. If they became vocal, I would keep walking out of the back of the cafeteria for in-school suspension the remainder of the day. Students suspected of causing disruptions and messes were often isolated during lunchtime for up to a week. They could not fully interact with their schoolmates—only watch them from afar. That promoted more acceptable behavior in most students.



I had always considered the cafeteria the most reliable barometer of the schoolwide campus climate. If the students left there in a rowdy or agitated state, teachers would spend much instructional time upon their return attempting to regain control. While I was on duty, monitoring students at lunchtime, I rarely allowed my legs to quit moving in the last five to seven minutes of the lunch period. I modeled this for other school personnel, by continuous looking for potential student problems like the intentional dirtying of tables and floors, throwing food or objects, excessive noise or yelling, and general disruptive behavior. Sometimes school personnel on duty only added to the cacophony in the minute or two before the bell rang.

On a daily basis, teachers arrived at the end of the lunch period to escort their pupils back to their class. In past years, amid teacher complaints about the tedium of having to make the daily trek to the cafeteria, this requirement had been suspended. Student behavior quickly became unpredictable when this form of the honor system was relied upon. Sometimes student fighting erupted in the hallways and bathroom in closest proximity to the cafeteria, or in the first un-monitored area on their way back to class. By comparison, most days that students were escorted back to class were fairly uneventful.



Defiance toward personnel in the cafeteria, from the principal to the school janitor, was never tolerated. I would often remind students: "All adults in this school have authority over you!" If the pupil was unlucky enough to have me called in for their refusal to follow directives, they were sure to receive an immediate, and often unpleasant, reprimand. I was not a counseling-oriented administrator, especially not while an act of defiance was in progress. I considered student defiance toward authority figures second only to substance abuse as the most destructive of human tendencies. If left unchecked for a moment, that ember would quickly turn into a raging fire.

I could recall what Jacobson had been like only a few years back, the raw hostility that any reasonable request for student compliance was often met with. At lunchtime, once again, any pupil not found forming an orderly line of their own accord, or not in agreement with cafeteria rules, was sent to the end of the line. They would have much less time to create disturbances if they were still eating in the last minutes of the lunch period. There was no need to argue if their shirt was un-tucked, or their shoes unbuckled or uncovered. Consequences were rarely negotiable. Excessive noise was almost certainly followed by isolation, if it required a second warning. A rambunctious student sometimes made a dash from his or her assigned location, and rejoined his friends at a nearby table. Once discovered, I would extend their time by a couple of days.



An especially ornery student, Ricardo Mendez, was planning to stand his ground on one occasion. I turned around just in time to catch a glimpse of him as he slid into an empty seat. From several rows away, I ordered, "Get back to your seat! NOW!" As I walked in his direction, he made no effort to comply. Again, I stated, "Go back TO YOUR SEAT, or I will carry you there!" "See what happens if you try that!" was his rebellious response. Without breaking my stride, the palm of my hand soon reached his upper bicep. "Let's go. NOW!" He then shrugged his shoulder at me forcefully, with his elbow swinging pointedly in my direction. While securing his upper bicep, and holding his free hand tightly by the wrist, I slid his contorting body off his seat. "THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS!!" I responded. As I struggled to keep him from righting himself, his mouth issued a stream of inflammatory remarks: "YOU MO-T--R F--K--G B--CH!!!" I knew that if I did not keep him immobilized, he would have the opportunity to strike me, in the presence of an entertained crowd. A student ran out into the hallway to summon Officer Douglas. I could not free up one hand to get on my walkie-talkie. I warned, "Quit struggling! You're not getting up until the officer comes in." Officer Douglas, always quick to spring into action, entered moments later.

He scanned the area for a moment, but he could not see me. I was in a horizontal position, between the tables, still tussling with the disorderly pupil. With Officer Douglas now towering above us, he commanded, "Release him, Mr. Diaz. If he tries anything, I will knock him out!" The student instantly thought about the prospect of angering Officer Douglas. Peace was once again restored in the cafeteria once the oohing and aahing of the crowd subsided. As I had once stated to the school principal, "This is '[h]ow the west was won' at Jacobson!" Only her lingering doubt about the cost of challenging this discipline enforcement philosophy allowed her to tolerate my presence.

Ricardo's mother soon arrived to pick up her son for a three day suspension. She insisted that I receive a ticket for "assaulting" her son. Officer Douglas informed her that she could go elsewhere to seek a citation against me. "Your son is the only one that will receive a ticket for _Disruption of School Activity_." Officer Douglas had witnessed his extremely defiant behavior. I remember thinking, years later, that had this incident not occurred during Officer Douglas's employment as campus officer, I might have found myself in criminal court.

Given Jacobson's reputation, community parents often expressed more concern over safety issues than the academic standing of the institution. The realization grew that although the inner space of the school campus was fairly tranquil and secure, the perimeter was still bristling with agitation shortly after students were released in the afternoon. Officer Douglas had a saying: "Birds are going to build nests, and kids are going to fight!" Students insistent on fighting would make arrangements to meet up after school instead, away from the campus. The local cemetery, three blocks away, was a favorite place to rumble. Occasionally, a prospective combatant would inquire, "Is it true that you cannot get suspended if you fight away from school?" Although, by law, school officials only had authority within three hundred feet of the school perimeter, I always responded, "Two blocks, but the local police can ticket or arrest you. You know that Deputy Meegans [from the Constable's Office] is always patrolling after school!"



In the 2009-2010 school year, the principal at Jacobson Middle demonstrated a talent for fine-tuning the instructional program, nearly reaching "exemplary" status at year's end. During her tenure as Jacobson's principal, she managed to tighten-up the discipline structure even more. She did not mind getting up close and personal when students were out-of-line. She had a knack for improving areas of instructional weakness without permitting a back-slide in the school's discipline and structure. There was much less fighting, disrespect, and disruption in classes than the veteran teachers could recall. With such a favorable environment, the principal was able to capitalize on campus stability to launch initiatives that increased student achievement. Her talent did not go unnoticed by the superintendent. After one year, she was on her way to a low-performing high school.

Behavioral Downturn Resumes (V)

' **Til the Well Runs Dry**

The newly appointed principal for the 2010-2011 school year was a young, intelligent, and personable Hispanic administrator. Practically everything about him, however, was a mismatch for the demographic at Jacobson Middle. Jacobson was ninety-five percent Latino, with forty percent of them being immigrant class. There is no doubt that his lack of Spanish language fluency came with a high price. Immediately, some parents in the community were commenting that he was only a Latino by surname and exterior. One longtime resident referred to him as "El Pocho." This is a highly disparaging term for a member of Mexican American culture that is perceived to be ashamed of his ethnic identity, and no longer able, or willing, to converse in the Spanish language. The three principals that preceded him had never failed to convey their thoughts to the parents in their native language—as well as English. This symbolic gesture inspired confidence in their knowledge, ability, and cultural pride.



The linchpin that held Jacobson's discipline structure in place would not be pulled until the influence of the Elite program coordinator gained a toehold. For years, she had been opposed to the work that had been done to bring order and safety to the campus. She could not bear to see the community youth reprimanded in such a military-like manner. "He spits in their face when he is yelling at them!" she would protest. She often played favorites with the students in the program, using her influence to shield them from the consequences of misconduct. Her pleas to all past principals had fallen on deaf ears _._ They understood the implications of a breakdown in school discipline. The new principal was much more sympathetic to her. It was not long before he addressed the administrative team, and admonished those that were overzealous in the enforcement of school rules. The principal arrived to a seemingly positive and tranquil environment—what a teacher at Jacobson likened to a finely-tuned sports car.

For several years, it seemed that gang culture had somehow faded away. In reality, educational personnel had only enjoyed a reprieve, a lull in the grip of the anti-social and deviant mentality that held sway over the community school for decades. A general truce had been achieved after several arduous years. Most of the neighborhood's anti-authority element knew that they did not stand a chance of destabilizing Jacobson's climate without facing immediate opposition. The school's teachers, administrators, and campus police were working in a concerted manner to deprive them of that joy. I thought of Jacobson's disciplinary structure in terms of a Roman phalanx, with all personnel standing shoulder to shoulder against student incivility. The narcotics dog, showing up and netting a treat for an occasional detection, was also instrumental in keeping illicit substances off the school campus.

Only the most stringent of measures had provided the impetus for the dramatic behavioral transformation to occur. I had spearheaded the aggressive effort with the blessing of the principal, and the unwavering support of the campus officer. Jacobson's faculty and staff were now empowered to challenge student misbehavior before it could have a domino effect in their classroom. I saw many of Jacobson's educators employing the same combination of enforcement and interactional techniques that I favored. As I passed by many rooms, I could hear teachers issuing some of their own recommendations for improvement for the benefit of an unruly student. "Your behavior is a CANCER that's INFECTING THIS CLASSROOM!!" was one humorous line that Hal used occasionally. I would make sure that the students in his class were watching when I gave him a thumb's up before proceeding down the hallway. Anytime, and any place, that defiance reared its ugly head, there was a consistent response from the majority of school personnel. With full administrative support, the faculty and staff had, once again, embraced their wider _in loco parentis_ role.

But now, support for the unyielding enforcement required to maintain discipline at Jacobson was compromised. There was talk about a "three foot rule," that is, to give students their personal space when they were defiant and oppositional. In my view, the additional 2.5 feet of space was a recipe for disaster _._ I thought, "How can a cantankerous student possibly count my fillings from that distance?!" With my hands now bound, I felt that it was just a matter of time before the student body sensed the lack of administrator assertiveness. I knew that my military-like approach to student behavior management, although rarely employed by then, would not be tolerated for long. Early in my eighth year at Jacobson, with a principal that could not have imagined what students had been like in recent history, I felt a sense of resignation.

The principal announced that, in fact, he was more concerned with students wearing white than those associated with blue, black, and red. I insisted that those were the rival colors that were prevalent in the neighborhood. Honestly, I had never seen a potential gang member wearing white! I looked for a copy of a journal entry that a student had written in the previous year, but I did not locate it until I was packing my belongings a few weeks later. He stated, _"If you_ _know about gangs you will know this are [sic] is [an inner-city] ward. That means a lot of ppl [people] with blue flag are in this area. They hate us they wanna [sic] hurt us."_

Perhaps I may have sounded irreverent as I cautioned against the relaxing of dress code enforcement. Over the years, there had been innumerable close calls with students threatening bodily injury, or spewing expletives with little concern for consequences. A teacher and ex-Marine, Joaquin Herrera, acting as after-school security, had been pushed out of Jacobson to another area school when a parent alleged that he was "picking on" her daughter. This girl would return to Jacobson after his departure, attempting to flee behavioral consequences at a nearby school. Allegedly, while there, she slapped a teacher in the face. Her out-of-control behavior, initially opposed by Mr. Herrera, had only grown increasingly more brazen and violent. I put in her paperwork for the DAEP immediately.

I could also recall when a science teacher, Christy Haskell, was punched square-on-the-nose as she separated two girls during a physical altercation. In that bloody scene, Christy cupped her dripping nose, leaving droplets on the floor all the way to the teachers' bathroom. That girl would later become the teen mother of A. R. Gomez's child, the young man from BAC that I struggled with on the hallway floor by the cafeteria. [Officer Douglas has informed me that, although Gomez was charged, he was not convicted of aggravated assault in the Texas City case. Nonetheless, he was later sentenced to the state penitentiary for violating probation].

Most disconcerting to me, I would play a role that would lead to the physical disability of another faculty member, Mr. Favio Cortez. After signing up as a long-term substitute, I mentioned to the principal that he had served in an Army special operations unit in Southeast Asia. She called him in from an otherwise cushy assignment in a science class, and moved him permanently to the BAC to assist a teacher that was having difficulty with several highly aggressive students. This was, essentially, the last pocket of student resistance at Jacobson. Even Officer Douglas and I only had limited success in improving the behavior of this self-contained student group. Within weeks, Mr. Cortez had them marching to and from their classroom, standing at parade rest on command, and responding with a loud and clear, "YES SIR, Mr. Cortez!"

Toward the end of the school year, the most rebellious of the bunch had as much of the safe and structured school environment as he was willing to take. He attacked Mr. Cortez from behind. In the crushing fall, Mr. Cortez received permanent damage to his shoulder, knee, and ankle. Due to his injuries, he now has limited use of his arm, and he walks with the help of a cane. As for the emotionally disturbed student responsible for the assault—his release and re-entry in correctional facilities have served as the milestones of his early adult life.



There was nothing left for me to do but continue to irritate the boss just enough to have me removed, without becoming insubordinate. I knew that I was throwing a wrench in my own gears. That had been my modus operandi as a classroom instructor when I no longer felt that I could be effective in a given school environment. I was convinced that the edict calling for a relaxation of dress code enforcement was designed specifically to emasculate me once the Elite program coordinator won favor with the new administrative head. After a few dissenting views during our administrative meetings, the principal had had enough. I was summarily traded off to another school.

As I packed up my belongings over the weekend, the new campus security officer, a young Army veteran, Mr. Espino, and I discussed the possible ramifications of my departure. We had worked together with great effectiveness in diminishing any potential threat to campus stability. He had been there since the previous year. In that time, we had redoubled our effort in the absence of the now retired Officer Douglas. I recommended that in his role as campus safety officer, he should never let up in the enforcement of basic rules while he still enjoyed the upper hand. I knew that school administrators and staff were either going to be on the offensive, or on the defensive, in terms of student incivility.



The campus law enforcement officers that followed Officer Douglas could not match his effectiveness. Even without their full support, the student body was sufficiently subdued in previous years as to have a lingering positive effect. I knew that the countdown toward Jacobson's impending downfall had actually started ticking away the day that Officer Douglas announced his retirement. The campus officer's role was a critical piece of the discipline structure. More important was the officer's professional philosophy: enforcement-minded versus social work oriented. Out-of-control schools, like the Jacobson of 2002, needed much more of the former than the latter.

I had predicted that student discipline would remain fairly manageable for approximately two months before sliding off precipitously. I was so certain of this outcome, that I had stated this candidly to the COA when we met to discuss my transfer. She entertained my comment, before redirecting our conversation to the more immediate purposes of the meeting: "As of today, discipline at Jacobson is no longer your concern. The principal is capable of handling what issues may arise." With our conversation over, I hurried out to prepare for my final departure from Jacobson Middle School.

My prediction was off by a month and a half. Within two weeks, I would begin to receive calls from desperate teachers and staff members at Jacobson. It seems that students had immediately perceived an absence of authority. Their elation was matched by their endless creativity on how to break school rules. With the school's guard down, they were skipping classes en masse, sometimes escaping to the building's utility spaces above the top floor. Reportedly, amid the increasing chaos throughout the remainder of the year, a record number of teen pregnancies occurred, conceived during the school day, when they should have been cracking their books instead!

Now the remaining eighth-grade assistant principal from the previous year, Ms. Bee, and the school security officer, Mr. Espino, shouldered the burden in maintaining control of the student body. Jacobson's new administrative team, advocating a much softer, negotiation-style approach to student discipline, were now in the majority. Mr. Espino reported that, on one occasion, days after my departure, the principal called him over to model his interactional approach with students. " _You see, Mr. Espino, you can speak to the students nicely to get them to do what you want_." I commented to Mr. Espino, "That may work for ninety-five percent of the students, but I would be more concerned with the remaining five! They're the ones that will soon be running amok if given the opportunity!" The pendulum had swung 180 degrees. As Officer Douglas was fond of saying: "You don't miss your water 'til the well runs dry!" From a disciplinary standpoint, Jacobson's well was, suddenly, nearly bone dry.

**Too Little, Too Late!**

Immediately upon my departure from Jacobson, Mr. Espino was called in to meet with the principal. He was informed that he was no longer to employ the same aggressive strategies with students that he had used under the previous administration. With the last of the old alpha males in the school's safety and security team now gone, the students were wondering who might fill the vacuum. But all that Mr. Espino could do was watch as the entire campus was quickly engulfed in an atmosphere of reckless and brazen disregard for the rules of civility. Approximately four weeks later, Mr. Espino was called back to the principal's office. He had experienced a change-of-heart. Reportedly, he said, "Remember what we talked about several weeks ago . . . yeah, yeah, about not getting into their faces. Forget about that! Go ahead do what you were doing—the boot-camp approach." With that, Mr. Espino was given the explicit approval to resume his full tilt offensive on student misconduct. Within just a few weeks, students had gained the upper hand. The seal on Pandora's Box was broken once again.

Re-instilling that ounce of fear, however, had to come from those with the authority to suspend and remove misbehaving students. The restoration of order depended almost entirely upon the effectiveness of the school's assistant principals. As a confident disciplinarian, Ms. Bee understood the requirements of maintaining a stable school environment. Her students and teachers continued to function with a sense of normalcy, while the rest of the campus quickly descended into utter chaos. An alarmed veteran teacher in another grade level, Ms. Espy, had no qualms about bringing this to the principal's attention: "Don't you see what's going on?! THE KIDS ARE OUT OF CONTROL!!"



The new campus officer, Officer Moraz, had been the subject of discussion during Ms. Avila's administration. Her personal philosophy regarding student misbehavior rested on unabashed appeasement. Rather than employing a consistent enforcement policy, she believed that she would prove her impartiality by routinely siding with errant students over the objections of teachers and administrators. Officer Moraz had earlier commented to other staff members that she would not support me if I continued to "violate students' personal space."

I had regarded her as the school's weakest link _,_ that is, undependable, permissive, and inconsistent, in terms of discipline related law enforcement. Aware of my dissatisfaction, the principal arranged a meeting between her supervisor and me, so that I might express my concerns. To no avail, I explained how I felt that her personal philosophy regarding law enforcement could possibly destabilize the entire campus. When Officer Douglas arrived at Jacobson, he had immediately tipped the scales in favor of the school administration and its personnel. Conversely, Officer Moraz's inaction and appeasement policy only encouraged student misconduct.

Although Mr. Espino was once again given the okay to openly challenge students exhibiting defiance, and wearing gang-related clothes and paraphernalia, he was now in Officer Moraz's crosshairs _._ On October 15, 2010, Mr. Espino came across a student wearing the symbols of MS 13, the most notorious Salvadoran gang in America. When he insisted that the pupil remove the belt in the cafeteria, the student was more belligerent toward him. Mr. Espino then radioed the campus officer for assistance. Upon her arrival, Officer Moraz informed Mr. Espino that there was no law against wearing the belt or its symbols, then advised him that this was an administrative matter.

Mr. Espino then led the pupil to his grade-level administrator, Mr. Lawrence, the newly arrived assistant principal that replaced me. Directed by Mr. Lawrence to remove the belt citing the school district's Zero Tolerance policy, the pupil began to comply, but took his time in order to demonstrate a resistance to authority. Once unbuckled, Mr. Espino tried to seize it for confiscation. The already incensed pupil, feeling much less enabled than in the presence of the campus officer, lashed out physically at Mr. Espino. Mr. Espino then took the appropriate action of restraining him while Officer Moraz was summoned to the assistant principal's office.

Upon her not-too-prompt arrival, Officer Moraz concluded that Mr. Espino had failed to de-escalate the confrontation. She charged him with _Assault by Contact of a Minor_. Mr. Espino had the principal's backing, at least for the time being. Even after encouraging Mr. Espino to get tough "boot-camp" style, and having a mutual agreement regarding Officer Moraz's general incompetence, he was not going to defend him against a charge of that gravity. The principal advised him to resign voluntarily pending the upcoming court date. On December, 17, 2010, the assault case was heard in criminal court. Officer Moraz was there to testify against Mr. Espino. The jury did not buy any of her, as V. P. Biden popularized in the vice-presidential debate, "Malarky!" The jury came back with a not guilty verdict after a forty-five minute deliberation.



During one of my infrequent get-togethers with my former associates at Jacobson, I received a copy of a quatrain adapted from the writings of Nostradamus. It read:

Those who ushered in the Era of Decline

Now cower in the Absence of Peace

Their vain words and Empty Minds glow

As La Pax Jacobsonia ceases to be

Havoc reigns firm throughout

As Reds and Blues re-stake their Claim

As the Tide of Apathy rises again

A Blind Eye from those to Blame

Civility is soon replaced by Chaos

With the Iron Fists now gone

Cultivating the Mind is but a fleeting thought

As Day to Day survival begins to dawn

( _anno domini,_ 2010)



About a year after my departure, I received a call from the school plant operator at Jacobson, Mrs. Ya _ñ_ ez. She was a school janitor at the time that I arrived there in 2002. Mrs. Ya _ñ_ ez had always offered moral support, as she observed my unrelenting effort to bring civility to the student body. She would cheerfully repeat, ¡"El que persevera, alcanza"! (He who perseveres, attains!) As I struggled to complete my dissertation in 2008, Mrs. Ya _ñ_ ez became my sounding board as I suggested culture-based solutions to student behavioral issues.

Mrs. Ya _ñ_ ez was promoted to plant operator three years prior to my departure. She had witnessed the transformation process, and she was one of my staunchest supporters over the years. Her duties, and that of her janitorial staff, had become considerably easier as student conduct began to improve. If the halls, cafeteria, and bathrooms were reliable indicators of the school atmosphere, then all indications were that Jacobson had reached a much higher level of civility by the 2005-2006 school year.

What Mrs. Ya _ñ_ ez described in June of 2011, was nothing short of the reputation that it held prior to the 2002-2003 school year. Jacobson Middle had once again reverted to that out-of-control and dangerous school comparable to its 1980-2002 era. Mrs. Ya _ñ_ ez said, **"** Disculpe que use esta palabra, pero esta escuela ES UN DESMADRE"! (Forgive me for using this word, but this school is total chaos and destruction [in the Mexican-origin Spanish]!) ¡"LOS MUCHACHOS est _á_ n TREMENDOS"! (The kids are outrageous!) She had recently discovered the student hideaway in the pitch-black third floor utility space—with pillows and blankets strewn about the dusty floors.

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The "new" Jacobson Middle, having recently been renovated as part of a district-wide bond issue, was only seemingly new in terms of facility improvements. Teachers reported that no sooner than the new bathroom sinks were installed, they were found torn right off the wall. With the resurgence of chaos, defiance, and violence, the school more closely resembled the Jacobson of old. Even though the principal had fiddled while [Jacobson] burned, I did not see him as being completely at fault.

He had surrounded himself with a team of highly-misguided people. Some, like the campus officer, Officer Moraz, and Elite program coordinator, Mrs. Alvarado, were there before his arrival, but most were his cronies from other schools. The new special education chairperson, Mrs. Franklin was another person that routinely thwarted the assistant principal's effort to remove the chronically misbehaving student. Her predecessor, Mrs. Guajardo, had worked well with school administrators, considering the best interest of individual student, as well as the school administration. I finally called her into my office and said to her,

Mrs. Franklin, I appreciate your concern with the student's well-

being, but your responsibility is to help determine if his behavior is

a manifestation of his learning disability. The decision as to what

the appropriate consequence for his misconduct may be is mine to

make.

Although Mrs. Franklin was ruffled by my comment, the interloper would only have to put up with my resistance for another two weeks. Later, upon the new assistant principal's arrival, I heard that she would continue to upset those professional boundaries with him as well.

The principal had assembled a Dream Team of enablers _._ These educators and support personnel included a soft-hearted, counseling-oriented administrator named Mr. Estevez. In terms of student behavior management, he was "but a bump on a log." That is not to say that student counseling was unimportant, as we all do some of it, but rather, that counseling should have rightly been the domain of the school counselor. Jacobson already had one of the best counselors in the district, Mr. Aldo Balboni. Not only did he complete the monumental student scheduling task, and incessant testing administration, singlehandedly, but he somehow found time to work with students to help them resolve personal issues. Mr. Balboni implemented a highly successful peer mediation program that heard reports of arising conflict, and possible cases of bullying, and then offered commonsense solutions for those students. Mr. Balboni required no assistance from others in terms of counseling the student body.

What Jacobson needed more than anything else were tough-minded assistant principals unwilling to negotiate with errant youth or their sometimes combative parents. The maintenance of the campus discipline structure fell, primarily, onto them. To Mr. Estevez's credit, however, I heard that once panic set in several weeks after my departure, he did change his interactional style considerably. But the avalanche of student aggression and disrespect had already been set in motion. All that he and the principal could do was hope that Jacobson's now totally chaotic environment did not lead to a student injury—or worse.

As for my teacher colleagues that remained, and the students and community's families that have continued to entrust their care and intellectual development to Jacobson Middle, I can only hope that a new administration will somehow restore a measure of stability. Otherwise, what parent in their right mind would choose to send their children to a chaotic and dangerous school environment? It had taken Jacobson five solid years to regain a modicum of positive regard in the community as a relatively safe school, and that, after a twenty-year destabilization. Yet, even then, community parents often expressed concern about placing their kids in a school that they recalled as being unsafe and violent when they attended more than a decade earlier. It took two more years to achieve a measure of academic recognition by nearly reaching exemplary status under Ms. Avila's guidance.

Proposed Long-Term Solution (VI)

**Lessons from Turner Middle**

I was transferred to Turner Middle School in the last week of September, 2010. Upon my arrival, I judged that students were more aggressive, defiant, and out-of-control than I had recalled in my first year at Jacobson. It's possible that my mind was playing tricks on me after enjoying several years of tranquility. I had reason to believe that some defiant behavior toward me was tied to racial differences. One eighth-grade female, upon being asked to strap-up her shoes, fired back caustically, "I'm not gonna [sic] listen to no WHITE MAN!" I replied, "You will listen, or come back to the office with me!" Every morning for months, I did the Turner Shuffle as defiant students tried to get past me, physically, rather than abide by my directives. I would block their path and counter their forward movements. While there was no ban on blue, black, or red items, other, albeit less effective, dress code requirements could be used to strengthen the disciplinary structure.

I soon gained some cultural insights into the African-American community that allowed me to build rapport with my students. Addressing a pupil by their first name always improved my ability to redirect their behavior. I learned this when a formally resistant student continually asked, "What's my name!?" each time that she saw me. Just like the Spanish language was a great tool for breaking through the cultural barriers of the Latino community, having enough regard for a student as an individual human being seemed to be the key in establishing rapport with African-American students. At Turner, I made it a point to learn as many student names as possible as I shook their hands each day.

When assigned to the cafeteria in the morning, I made sure that I was situated there before the throng of students arrived. As expected, dress code enforcement was a never-ending task. I locked all but one entrance, and insisted that students could only proceed to the breakfast line when they were in full dress code compliance. Before entering, shoes had to be buckled and covered, and shirttails in—with no exceptions. Similar to the Jacobson experience, most students began to comply rather than waste time each morning. Soon, I was able to identify the small proportion of students that were most resistant to authority. Every morning, I was consistent and firm, occasionally having to leave my post to escort an agitated student to the main office. Like Jacobson in the past, I employed a nose-to-nose strategy in dealing with the most belligerent students, regardless of their size, age, or gender.

The principal, Dr. Miles, paid me a compliment by stating, "I won't take a campus visitor to the cafeteria unless I know that you are there." By November, the COA recommended me for the Principal's Academy, beginning in January. I'm sure that Dr. Miles's input was largely responsible. Simultaneously, the COA was seeing that my prediction of student behavioral change at Turner, along with my former campus, had not been an exaggerated claim.

From a disciplinary standpoint, I believed that the school's new teaching arrangement offered definite advantages for an otherwise highly unstable school environment. Dr. Miles had organized teachers in teams that taught collaboratively in large open spaces. This enhanced curriculum alignment, and facilitated lesson planning. As Dr. Miles had contended, a lead teacher's instruction could continue unimpeded, even as misbehaving students were removed from class by one member of the team. Certainly, there were areas that would require further development in the model, but overall, the principal's initiative showed great promise.

In the final weeks of March 2011, Dr. Miles was met with a vicious letter campaign from disgruntled faculty members. The word in the community was that the COA felt slighted by the bold action that he had taken without first securing her full approval. Dr. Miles had, nonetheless, made considerable progress. Some of the teacher groupings like math and history were functioning exceptionally well. It was clear to see that some subjects lent themselves more to the new configuration than others. The language arts group was located in the library—not the best place to conduct large group instruction. That group also contained some of Dr. Miles's greatest detractors. I suspect that this was where the letter campaign was initiated. Dr. Miles was attacked at every level, professionally and personally—leading to his pressured resignation by year's end. A community meeting was scheduled to begin the candidate search for a new principal. In the presence of another COA that presided, I commented, "From my perspective as an assistant principal, Dr. Miles's ideas were progressive and beneficial for the Turner community."

I had accepted the COA's offer to be the interim principal for the remainder of the year. In an unrelated event, the longtime assistant principal, Mrs. Cole, had been reassigned to another school. I regarded this as another need to know matter involving higher administration. At that time, my greatest concern was for campus stability and student safety. Word would soon get out to the students that the principal, and the longtime assistant principal, were gone. The COA called to tell me that an auxiliary administrator would be arriving on Monday to assist me.

Over the weekend, I drafted a letter to enlist the faculty's full support in maintaining campus-wide discipline. I encouraged each of them to exercise their authority over the student body in this period of potential campus instability. The additional administrator arrived before lunchtime on Monday in time to witness me as I restrained a highly oppositional student that had openly challenged my authority in the cafeteria. In a strange twist, Mr. Lawrence, the administrator that replaced me at Jacobson, was reassigned by the COA to help me at Turner. He stepped in immediately to help discourage student uprisings due to the unexpected change-of-command. If a student even pretended to be leaving the cafeteria before being dismissed in an orderly manner, one table at a time, he or she faced immediate suspension. Student behavior quickly conformed to campus expectations, with hardly a student seen in the hallways between classes in the last few weeks of school.



Something interesting was noted in the data disaggregation at the end of the school year regarding Latino achievement at Turner. Although Latino students were still lower in reading in comparison to the predominant African-American group, in both math and science, they made considerable gains. There were significant alterations to the educational environment in the school year that account for the increase. In terms of increasing structure and time-on-task, there was little doubt of its positive impact for all students.

For the school's Latinos, another significant factor may have been the increase in self-esteem that comes when a linguistic minority's language and culture, and thus, their cultural identities, are recognized and aggressively defended. Dr. Miles had earlier encouraged me to pursue what he perceived to be my own agenda in defense of the Latino component. I believe that he considered this another area that needed to be addressed before Turner could stem Latino flight to nearby schools. For some still not fully understood reason, non-ELL (English language learner) Latino students had unexpectedly made considerable gains in two subject areas. In terms of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, both Level II (safety and security), and Level IV (feelings of self-esteem) offered tantalizing clues.

In considering those aspects of schooling that organizations have the power to readily influence, I kept Bloom's Alterable Variables in mind. I knew that internal school variables were more amenable to change and improvement than external ones. The effort to provide for student basic needs, that is, a safe, stable, and structured school environment, would yield noticeable results right away. In a school that was, both, an unstable environment, and neglectful of the cultural identity-building needs of its Latino students, the combined impact of ameliorating these two conditions was the most likely cause of the unexpected Latino achievement.

The ELL population continued to languish, demonstrating a high level of resistance and apathy. For them, not much had changed in the philosophical orientation of the school. While overt ethnic discrimination had been challenged, the politics of immigrant re-socialization would prevail in that short time-span. Teacher conscientization (Friere, 1970) regarding the impact of ethnically discriminatory practices would not come about overnight. Today, I can expect that Latino students are frequently reprimanded for speaking Spanish at Turner. Some school personnel would have continued to attribute student disaffection and misbehavior to every conceivable factor except for the school's own structural barriers to achievement.

**First Teaching Experience**

In September of 1991 was hired as a bilingual teacher in a southeast Texas school district desperate to make amends when a federal court cited disparities in the treatment of its ELL population. The school district had dragged its feet in meeting the requirements under _Lau v. Nichols_ , a Supreme Court case that led to the guideline that wherever twenty or more language minority students exist per-grade-level, interventions had to be provided in order to achieve a measure of equality. Bilingual education teachers were employed at the elementary level in order to meet the needs of a large and growing number of Latino ELL students. There was a lot of resentment in the community to state and federal interference.

The principal at my school was a staunch advocate of English immersion, and so were most of the faculty members. I was paired off with a veteran teacher that was vehemently opposed to bilingual education. Between a feigned smile and a slight glare, she introduced herself while issuing a forewarning: "I'm Melinda Sanchez. Oooh, if you want to piss me off, then we can talk about bilingual education!" If I was stunned by her comment, I did not allow her to sense it. Cordially, I replied, "It's a pleasure to meet you." Ms. Sanchez then revealed that she had been selected by the principal to mentor me—not necessarily by choice. I thought to myself, "I'll try not to be a burden." I had a lot to learn at that juncture. I knew that the concepts associated with classroom management, instructional delivery, not to mention course content, would take much time to incorporate.

In the second semester, Ms. Sanchez made more time to observe my class. It seems that she was critical of everything that I did. She did not like the manner in which I delivered instruction. I stood on the wrong side of the overhead projector for starters. She admonished me to never reveal to students that I had been weak in any subject matter for that would somehow "shake their confidence" in me. I replied, "I'm just trying to reassure those that are having difficulty that I did not necessarily have an easy time with it [math] in my grade-school years." Soon, she came to the premature conclusion that I was simply unwilling to accept her advice. I was getting continually agitated by Ms. Sanchez's negativity. The rift between us continued to grow as she made another off-the-cuff remark: "I think that the ACP (Alternative Certification Program) is a real disservice to our students because teachers have not been fully trained before they enter the classroom." Toward the latter half of the second semester, my observers from ACP, along with my campus administrators, were pleased with my rate of progress. I had received positive feedback from them, indicating their approval of my performance.

On another occasion, Ms. Sanchez remarked that my students were lower in intelligence in comparison to hers. She based this on the fact that they were still receiving bilingual instruction, while most of her students had exited into an all English language setting long before. I fired back, "I have reviewed their files, and I have seen no indication of IQ testing or results! On what do you base these findings?" "On thirteen years of teaching experience!" she insisted. I returned the volley by contending, "Some students have other learning difficulties, and some may have arrived much more recently." I could imagine my mentor strolling about, determining student IQs as she walked the hallway: "That one is about 120, and that one, maybe 105. And there goes Mr. Diaz. Definitely under 100!!"

She needed to complete one more observation in order to fulfill her obligations as my campus mentor. In preparation for the final observation in April, she made a few suggestions as we walked down the hallway. Due to the fact that I was fairly overwhelmed by then, I did not take great care to incorporate her recommendations at my next observation. She left my class prematurely. She was offended by what she called "a complete disregard" for her as an educational professional. I heard through the grapevine that she was attributing our interpersonal difficulty to a lack of respect for women.

As I was conversing with a female co-worker, Ms. Ellen Bosley, my mentor came down the boardwalk. She announced, "I didn't like the way that the last lesson went. I want to reschedule another one next week." "I will not do another lesson for you!" I responded. "Then I will have to comment this to your ACP supervisor," she threatened. With my mentor stunned and jaw-dropped, I demanded, "Let's step into my room and discuss this!" After closing the door, I unleashed my frustration, after months of accumulated tongue-biting:

_First of all, we started off this year by you telling me that_ _you were_

opposed to bilingual education, knowing that this was my

teaching specialization here. I might understand if you were not

aware of that. You said that you had not become my mentor

_voluntarily. I tried to stay out of_ _your way so as to not overburden_

you. Instead, you took this as a deliberate attempt on my part to

_exclude you from my professional development. You_ _have made_

offensive remarks about the ACP program that recruited me. And

then you make baseless comments regarding my students'

intelligence. Now, you are trying to damage my reputation among my

colleagues by painting me as a woman-hater or something!

I would later recount my first year mentor-intern experience with me as a three-legged stool—that my mentor intended to saw off one leg at a time. I did not get vocal or defensive after the first or second insult, but only when I felt certain that, in her presence, my professional self-concept was continually being assailed. She left my room with deeply hurt feelings, and I regret to say, with tears in her eyes. I thought to myself, "I'll be searching for another line of work soon!"

A couple of weeks transpired when I received a visit from a gentleman from Texas Education Agency. I explained all of the above and added,

Perhaps we could have avoided this difficulty if someone had

taken the time to ensure that we were 'on the same page' with

regard to our philosophical orientation. I think the only

consideration was given to the fact that she was an excellent math

teacher, and perhaps, that she is also Hispanic.

Evidently, the TEA representative concluded that I had been treated unfairly by my mentor at the outset of our professional relationship. Word must have gotten around in the local academic circles about our impasse because a doctoral student from the University of Houston soon contacted me requesting an interview for her study on mentor-intern relationships.

By the end of my first year of teaching, I had become a liability to the school principal with my ever-growing pro-Spanish language development stance. At a meeting, I openly challenged another of the principal's anti-bilingual education pets, the Bilingual/ESL department head, when she asserted something about strict English immersion being the most effective practice. I interjected, "That may be true of those students that have a conceptual foundation in their home language already, but most of our kids don't have that level of development yet." I was only repeating what I had recently learned at the university regarding the principles of first and second language acquisition.

It could have been merely a coincidence that the director of the district's Bilingual/ESL department contacted me, and requested that I speak at the annual meeting in September about my experiences as a first-year ACP teacher. At that point, I was a pawn in the ongoing struggle between the agents of change in the district and those affectionately referred to as the "Old Guard." They were protecting their time-honored philosophy on how to best deal with the problem of a growing linguistic minority student population. Those, like me, insisting on a need to implement culturally reaffirming learning environments, as proposed by leading theorists, were considered troublemakers. I now posed a threat to the English-only philosophy of the school's leadership team. At that beginning-of-year district Bilingual/ESL meeting, I spoke about the research on second language acquisition, mentioning Dr. Jim Cummin's assertions, along with several noted scholars.

At the end of my third year, in April of 1994, I was honored as a McDonald's Crystal Apple recipient. One of my students, Miguel Ramirez, had taken the time to compose a letter. He stated that I was his favorite teacher. He appreciated what I was doing to teach him about his culture, and insisting that all Latino students must preserve their native language at all costs. In my sub-par Spanish, I

explained in the short television clip: "There is no magic formula in education. The amount of effort that students put in today will determine their outcome and success in the future."

Earlier in the same year, I was testing the waters for a possible graduate thesis. I thought I might begin a data-gathering effort after securing the approval of the foreign language department director. I was aware that the school district had historically been opposed to the development of minority group languages. The school principal soon found out about my activities, and after a meeting with the director, my involvement came to an abrupt halt. At the end of the year, I was informed that my bilingual education position would be closed due to "low enrollment."

I am happy to hear that, today, my former school district is a supporter of dual-language programs at the elementary level. It seems that the proponents of English-only and English-plus in my old district had finally begun to reconcile their differences in the face of such convincing research evidence (see Collier & Thomas, _The Astounding Effectiveness of Dual Language for All_ , 2004).

**Principles and Principals**

In late July of 2011, I was on my way to another school after a couple of unsuccessful interviews for principal positions. The COA secured an assistant principal's job for me at a predominantly African-American school on the north side of the district. Similar to Turner, the school was undergoing high demographic change toward a growing Latino population. This was clear across town from my home, requiring a daily commute of approximately fifty minutes each way.

I was not a good fit for the principal's administrative team since the beginning of my transfer there. I was unwilling to engage in a documentation campaign against some teachers that the principal had targeted for removal. I was expected to support my superior's effort by amassing documentation that supported the principal's findings. This was the corporate strategy being employed throughout the district. My principles did not permit me to participate in an arbitrary witch hunt against teachers and staff members. I was determined to do everything possible to help my professional colleagues overcome areas of perceived weakness without openly challenging the principal's views. I continued to fulfill what I believed to be my utmost responsibility as an assistant principal—to support teachers in every possible way—by striving to develop a climate and culture that allowed them to succeed.



Shortly after my arrival there, I was called to testify as a character witness in a performance hearing for Coach Mabry, the longtime P. E. coach at Jacobson Middle School. Jacobson's principal was in the process of terminating her contract, citing her inability to control student behavior, and failure to follow campus discipline procedures. The major complaint against her was that she would send out misbehaving students directly to the office, rather than wait patiently, for days sometimes, before a grade-level administrator could finally address student misconduct. Although she was already in her mid-to-late sixties, I knew that age discrimination would never be admitted as an additional motive.

From the time that I had arrived at Jacobson in 2002, the administration sought to remove her. In fact, the initial rift between my two former administrative team members and me had occurred because of her. I had refused to place her on a professional growth plan, citing my limited observations [none!] of her early in the year. Two years later, the principal managed to have her placed at a nearby charter school for the duration of the school year. With a district continuing contract _,_ Coach Mabry would return to Jacobson shortly after the principal was gone. There was never a year that went by in which I would not hear rumors of an ongoing effort to remove her.

Students complained, at times, about her preference for structured activities in the gymnasium over outdoor sports. While I had suggested that Coach Mabry quit writing student discipline reports if she was unwilling to get outside more often, I always insisted that students respect her authority at all times. Despite my reservation about her choice of physical activities, I came to admire her for sticking by her principles, and not bending to disrespectful students, or frustrated administrators.

By the 2006-2007 school year, something interesting was happening with Coach Mabry's student discipline problems. There was no longer much resistance to her lessons—even when students had to endure six weeks of gym bowling in the cooler months. If a student was defiant toward her, Coach Mabry could count on my immediate arrival, usually within several minutes. I believed that I my consistent assertion of authority on her behalf made my job easier in the long run. Students knew that the outcome would always be the same, their removal and/or suspension was guaranteed. Sometimes I would not receive a discipline report from her for several weeks. Usually only minor issues arose, such as a student repeatedly "forgetting" to bring gym clothes from home. I was certain that Coach Mabry was handling the minor misbehaviors in a proactive manner.

I realized that once Jacobson's climate had stabilized by the 2005-2006 school year, Coach Mabry's disciplinary problems had also dissipated considerably. When all heck turned loose again at Jacobson, shortly after my departure, there was a resurgent failure of students to follow her directives. Coach Mabry had no choice but to revert to those unacceptable practices or risk being overrun by those brazen and emboldened students. I believe that weeks after my departure, with the sudden rise in student misconduct, Coach Mabry's urgent calls to her grade-level administrators were no longer being responded to in a timely manner.

At that performance hearing in 2011, I stated, "In the past three years, there have been no significant disciplinary issues to speak of. If, on occasion, I was called to the gymnasium, I was able to immediately extract a misbehaving student before others followed suit." I knew that there could be repercussions for defending the coach. I could tell by the principal's facial expression that he was not pleased by my response. Nonetheless, my principles were not subject to momentary flights of convenience. I simply told the truth as I saw it. With no intention of smiting the principal, I added, "As a matter of fact, just last year, the former principal remarked how pleased she was with Coach Mabry's performance." Short of lying under oath, there was no way that my loyalty to the regime would not be questioned. I suspect that my new boss soon received a call from Jacobson's principal, detailing my testimony at that hearing.



In March of 2012, an incident arose in which three aggressive students bum-rushed me in an act of open defiance. I had promised the desperate bus driver that the student aggression and defiance on her bus was about to be resolved. I insisted that all students form a single file as a first step in restoring order. Three older students, having arrived as other students were boarding, refused to remain at the end of the line as directed. They threw gang signs and made comments that incited the more-compliant students to a frenzied state. As student vocalizations reached a fever pitch, the trio decided to confront me. The students made their way from the end of the line to within a few feet of my position at the bus's door.

One of the students then shoved me, and I quickly restrained him by the wrists. As I blocked a second student's forced entry onto the bus, my open hand brushed the side of his neck. The enraged student stood ready to exchange blows with me as I summoned the campus officer on the radio. A third student, with whom I was already familiar, abided by my directive to back away. I was the only administrator assigned to the bus loading area in the rear of the campus. The situation had been so tense that I had forgotten to bluff on my first call for assistance. Fortunately, all three students scurried off when they heard my call for officer backup.

The ringleader, recently released from the DAEP, concocted a story over the weekend. He claimed that I had intentionally slapped him. A review of the bus surveillance tape would later prove that the student had not been slapped. Both the written statement of the bus driver, along with a second teacher witness, corroborated my version of events. Nonetheless, the principal insisted that I posed a threat to student safety, and that I had misrepresented the facts by calling this physical contact "inadvertent." I was immediately reassigned to another school to await the conclusion of my contract year.

Last Reflections on Jacobson

Now, at my last temporary assignment, I assisted the principal in the completion of administrative tasks, but was otherwise not permitted to interact with students. The personnel department informed me that my contract would not be renewed in the upcoming year. The unopened school library became my unofficial office. I read some works by Mark Twain for the first time. I began to reminisce about my earlier experiences as a teacher, and as a first-year assistant principal at Jacobson Middle. I thought that it might be therapeutic for me to reflect on my training and experiences, now, in the tranquility of the school library. I thought of the widespread problem of student defiance and violence plaguing our schools. My thoughts took me back to my childhood in the Rio Grande Valley of South Texas, where I was kicked in the chest by an unpredictable horse around the age of ten. I was propelled six or eight feet like a sack of potatoes. This experience reminded me of some principals that I have worked with!

After high school graduation, I joined the Army. I was assigned to Ft. Riley, after basic training and AIT. I then escaped the tyrannical company commander and found myself in Panama. There, I began to appreciate the Spanish language for what it was—a beautiful linguistic resource whose vital socio-academic importance should never be underestimated. I had not grown up with an ethnic inferiority complex by choice. While stationed in Panama, I began to understand the benefit of developing literacy in the Spanish language—alongside English. The experience in Panama allowed me to reactivate my ethnic compass, and helped to diminish an entrenched inferiority complex.

I was an unlikely college student at Southwest Texas State University. In high school, my only college prep classes had been Woodshop I & II! I now had some experiences worth writing about upon my return from Panama. I had the incentive of veteran's benefits to help me complete a bachelor's degree. In my freshman English class, I discovered that the early Texas colonizer, Captain Blas María de la Garza-Falcón, was on a branch of my family tree. This sparked greater enthusiasm for uncovering other little known Latino social, cultural, and historical perspectives. This, in turn, led to my initial entry in the teaching profession.

To promote environmental awareness, I decided to plant a garden at school despite another teacher's remark that this would take too much time from standardized test preparation, and relegate my students to life as "agricultural field workers." She would later confide that she was wrong for thinking that way. We broke ground in that clay-pan only to discover that the gulf had extended far inland not long ago, as a six-inch layer of shells would indicate. Like the study of history, things are not always what they appear to be, once you dig under the surface. It was a great outdoor science and ecological experience for the kids. We ate some tasty beans, squash, and corn in May. The discovery of Yum Kaax in the school's garden had a most profound effect. I knew that, in time, the telling of a more-balanced history would have to be recognized as a logical source of Latino bicultural identity formation.



In terms of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, three levels had to be addressed in the 2002-2003 school year in order to bring about a long-term recovery at Jacobson Middle. Most evident was Level II: Safety and Stability _._ Stringent dress code enforcement over a three-to-five year period provided the impetus and catalyst for sustained climate change. A marked decrease in student aggression, classroom disruption, and defiance toward school personnel were the most beneficial outcomes. The perception of growing safety and security on campus had a corresponding impact on student behavior. Increasingly, students met their basic responsibilities in school, and demonstrated a willingness to learn. A clear message was sent to the school's anti-authority element: Adults are in charge here—NOT THE KIDS! The balance of power shifted to the confident disciplinarians in the school—allowing its educational professionals to assert an authority in-keeping with the doctrine of _in loco parentis_.

With Maslow's Hierarchy as an explanatory framework, Level III (belonging) and IV (self-esteem) concerns gained clarity. Once Jacobson's environment stabilized considerably in the 2006-2007 school year, the school's ESL coordinator, Mr. Arce, assisted me in developing a plan to reintegrate the highly successful sheltered bilingual model. While the principal considered the proposal enthusiastically, her superiors dismissed it with the usual cynicism. By their estimation, Jacobson was already showing signs of improvement. At a later date, another assistant principal remarked that both she and the principal were actually proponents of total English immersion. I perceived that, for the principal, venturing beyond an exclusively ESL intervention program was not a political battle worth fighting.

The prevailing strategy for ELL students would continue to rest on their quick mainstreaming, so they could join the rest of the population in the frenzied teaching and re-teaching of standardized test objectives. As I considered the philosophical wrong-turn taken at Jacobson Middle, the goal of assimilating its growing immigrant Latino population through a combination of English immersion strategies (ESL), as well as submersion (sink or swim), remained the primary response to their learning difficulties. English language development was the sole consideration, rather than aspiring to achieve the most beneficial Vygotskian socio-academic outcome for all youth. As Dr. Valenzuela has asserted,

English as a Second Language (ESL) programs neglect the needs of

Spanish-language youth. These programs provide an illusion of

inclusion, but the institutional message they convey is that Spanish

is a second rate language and that the goals of bilingualism and

_biculturalism are neither worthwhile nor expedient_ (p. 162).

The potential academic self-esteem increase (Level IV) that had once been experienced in the sixth-grade bilingual program, propelling the immigrant component well beyond the performance of the general population, was not recognized as a critical attribute of Latino school success in the intervening years. Jacobson's newfound academic recognition under Ms. Avila had rested on teaching and learning test objectives and strategies in a relatively stable and disciplined environment. Great gains were made possible, but the school's philosophical orientation had remained the same. Testing efficiency was of paramount concern over measures of true effectiveness.

Not since the year prior to my arrival had the educational program at Jacobson accounted for the bicultural identity-building needs of a portion of the community's kids. Had that program been strengthened then, from sixth-through-eighth grades, Jacobson would have maintained a framework for the development of student bicultural identity _._ In a less-than culturally reaffirming environment, incalculable amounts of self-esteem, the product of an affirmative ethnic self-perception, would remain virtually untapped. Its potential to reorient student academic trajectories, from probable failure to the likelihood of success, was of little consideration in Jacobson's pedagogic formula.

The subtractive schooling environment diluted student cultural identity, and with it, the core values of self-discipline and respect that emanate from Latino culture. Low levels of student engagement at Jacobson were attributed to external factors—dismissing the mounting research evidence that de-capitalizing students from a linguistic and cultural perspective has a highly detrimental impact on student behavior and achievement. Like educator viewpoints at Seguin High School, administrators and teachers at Jacobson and Turner turned "to face-saving explanations for school-based problems" (Valenzuela, 1999, p. 74).

By September 2010, Jacobson's new administrative team turned to a counseling approach to student behavior management. This led to an immediate collapse of the discipline structure. Students reverted to unacceptable behaviors almost overnight. What positive regard the school had enjoyed for a number of years evaporated into thin air.



Dr. Trueba believed that teachers following Vygotskian principles _"make classrooms literate environments in which many language experiences can take place and different types of literacies can be developed and learned"_ (Trueba, 2001, p. 13). He asserted that children were most likely to achieve when they retained a strong sense of cultural identity, and belonging to their sociocultural community, while interfacing competently with mainstream children. This pedagogical reality is most clearly reflected in the goals of a two-way, English/Spanish, dual language model. Today, a biliteracy development effort offers the greatest hope to dramatically increase the rate of student engagement, and to create a self-reinforcing culture of academic success at Jacobson Middle.

Dr. Lam, former San Antonio ISD superintendent, has recounted her educational experiences while growing up in Peru. She was taught in both English and Spanish throughout her elementary and secondary school years. She and her classmates were able to internalize both languages in a manner that celebrated both cultures. Her teachers expected that all students would be able to think, speak, read, and write both languages equally. She explains,

We studied science in Spanish and mathematics in English,

crisscrossing concepts and vocabulary in two languages to make a

tight weave. We did not travel back and forth across the bridge.

Our entire school experience took place on the bridge (p. 13).

Conclusion (VII)

_Just three words_ set Jacobson Middle on a course toward increased student apathy and misconduct decades ago. Its quick mainstreaming goals, and teach to the test focus, ensure that the role of student cultural identity remains among its least understood pedagogical considerations. Understanding and addressing the negative impact of _subtractive schooling_ on Latino student performance and behavior is the key to finding a long-term solution. When schooling practices allow students to form a bridge between two cultures _—_ and to incorporate the best of both (American and Latino) worlds in their developing bicultural identity—the Jacobson community may finally embark on a new era of achievement.

**Tribute to Dr. T**

My professor, Dr. Trueba, was adamant that those that have been given educational opportunities had an obligation to help open doors for others that may follow. He wrote me when I failed to turn-in a final term paper. He stated [translated from Spanish]:

First of all, I want to tell you that the work that you will do is very

important. Others are counting on you to open doors for them, like

you counted on others to open them for you. . . . Maybe someday you

can learn to use the scholarly apparatus more effectively.

Although this anecdotal account is a far-cry from meeting Dr. Trueba's scholarly standards, I hoped to redeem myself in a small way. In August of 2012, I made another pilgrimage. This time, I headed to Conejo Mountain in Camarillo, California. This is where Dr. Enrique (Henry) T. Trueba is interred. His headstone contains the inscription:

" _So onward dear friends and colleagues, beacons of hope, tireless workers and leaders all."_

Upon reading Latinos Unidos: From Cultural Diversity to the Politics of Solidarity (1999), as part of our ongoing research assignments, I was inspired to draw a symbol of Latino solidarity and pride. In 2001, I showed Dr. Trueba my crude sketch at the last formal meeting that was held at UH to discuss the ethnographic study on academically successful Asian and Latino immigrant students. He remarked, "I like it!" Due to his battle with prostate cancer, which ended in the summer of 2004, I would not see him in person again. I rediscovered the drawing in 2008, sitting in a box in the attic. I like to think of this symbol as the new "Latino Kryptonite"—the only colors that we truly need.

(see www.latinoheritagedesigns.com for t-shirt information)

**Definitions and Specialized Terms**

1) _Accommodation without Assimilation_ (Gibson, 1988) — a study of the Sikh community in California that challenged conventional wisdom regarding cultural assimilation. The sociocultural adaptation strategy preserved ethnic culture, values, and identity, and produced the most beneficial social and educational outcomes for this group.

2) _Altruistic Repression_ — assumption made from a cultural assimilation perspective in which suppression of prominent features of ethnic identity, primarily native language, is viewed as a "necessary evil" for the social integration and academic achievement of linguistic minority youth.

3) _Bloom's Alterable Variables_ — altering key variables in school significantly changes the educational outcome for low-performing students.

4) _Bicultural Education_ — favoring a bilingual and bicultural adaptation process and identity, the Latino community requires an educational experience that mirrors the reality of a pluralistic existence.

5) _"Biliteracy is the Key to Student Success"_ — empirical evidence suggests greater cognitive, social, cultural, and economic benefits derived from the development of biliteracy over literacy in English alone. (This was my educational motto as seen on my school business card).

6) _"Celebratory Socialization"_ — in a community college study, Rhoads and Valadez (1996) affirm the importance of rejecting traditional views of socialization that attempt to erase cultural differences with a philosophy that welcomes "the forms of knowledge and ways of understanding" (p. 85) that immigrant communities bring.

7) _"Critical Issue: Addressing Literacy Needs in Culturally and Linguistically Diverse Classrooms"_ (Willis, 2000) — a useful guide for understanding linguistic minority educational needs.

8) _Cultural Connection_ — the respect, validation, and incorporation of minority group's language and culture (Cummins, 1986) allows educational professionals to increase student-teacher rapport as a primary requirement in providing culturally reaffirming school experiences.

9) _Dress Code Gestapo_ — first coined by school instructional specialist, Ms. Reina, to describe the disciplinary persona (my alter ego) whose unyielding enforcement of dress code was the instrument and catalyst for school climate change at Jacobson Middle.

10) _"Empowerment Model"_ — proposed by Davison-Aviles et al. (1999), recognizing both background and personal characteristics, together with the academic context of the school, as primary factors in school achievement and underachievement.

11) _Ethnic Compass_ — the enhanced perception and understanding that maintenance of minority group language and culture provides.

12) _"Friendship Monument"_ — on Shoreline Boulevard, Corpus Christi, Texas, commemorated in 1992, recognizes Hispanic cultural contributions originating in the province of Nuevo Santander in the mid-1700s. The mounted figure, Captain Blas María de la Garza-Falcón, led the first non-Native settlers to the area between the Rio Bravo del Norte (Rio Grande) and the Nueces River in Corpus Christi.

13) _In Loco Parentis_ — doctrine based on common law authorizing educational personnel to act in the place of parents throughout the school day. The role of teachers and administrators extends beyond instruction, to include the management of student behavior that may impede academic performance or threaten safety.

14) _Mainland Latino_ — as distinguished from Caribbean-origin Latinos, are likely to be of predominantly indigenous or mestizo (Spanish-Indian) racial make-up—historically occupying the lowest socio-economic stratum in Mexico, Central America, and many parts of South America.

15) _Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs_ — socio-psychological construct explaining various levels of human need beginning with Level I (Physiological) needs such as food, water, and shelter. Level II (Safety and Security) is followed by Level III (Love and Belonging) and (Feelings of Self-Esteem) at Level IV. It has been proposed that reaching one's fullest potential (Level V, Self-Actualization) is dependent upon the degree that the lower-level needs are met.

16) _Native-like Fluency_ — Spanish language fluency that is comparable to literate members of Latin American society.

17) _Perpetual Immigrant Group_ — geographic proximity to the USA, social and economic opportunity, and the need to escape poverty and oppressive living conditions have combined to ensure continuous immigration from Mexico and Latin American for more than a century.

18) _"Subtractive Schooling"_ — schooling that de-capitalizes students from a linguistic and cultural perspective and its impact on student behavior and performance as described by Valenzuela (1999).

19) _The Bridge Metaphor_ — often described by Asian and Latino immigrant students that have undergone successful sociocultural adaptation in America. They form "a bridge between two cultures," and reflect "the best of both worlds" in the development of a bicultural (or multicultural) identity.

20) _Truebian Pedagogy_ — a synthesis of the work of many scholars such as Friere, Vygotsky, and Spindler that influenced the thinking of Dr. Henry Trueba. His brand of liberation theology rests on the importance of consciousness-raising, emancipatory knowledge, understanding "ZPD" in student-teacher interaction, and achieving the optimal intellectual development for youth undergoing high sociocultural change. Dr. Trueba stresses the positive mediating influence of ethnic identity and language in elevating student cognition and empowerment, along with the promotion of educational equality through researcher praxis (action and commitment).

21) _Zone of Proximal Development (ZPD)_ — Vygotskian term defined as the distance between an individual's current ability or knowledge, and the level that can be attained through the assistance of a peer or teacher.

**Appendix**

**References**

Davison-Aviles, R. M., Guerrero, M. P., Howarth, H. B., and Thomas, G. (1999, Fall). Perceptions of Chicano/Latino students who have dropped out of school. _Journal of Counseling & Development,_ 77(4).

Diaz, A. (2008). Native language and cultural roles in the academic self-concept of successful latino and asian american students. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Houston.

Diaz, A. (2001, April 13). No rift in culture, language. _The Houston Chronicle,_ Viewpoints.

Lam, D. (1996). Bilingual education: Perspectives on research and other issues. _The Journal of the Texas Association for Bilingual Education,_ 3(10)13-31.

Moll, L. (1990). Introduction. In _Vygotsky and education: Instructional implications and application of sociohistorical psychology,_ l. Moll (Ed.) 1-27. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Trueba, H. T. (1999). _Latinos unidos: From cultural diversity to political solidarity._ Lanham, Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield Publisher, Inc.

Trueba, H. T. & McLaren P. (2000). Critical ethnography for the study of immigrants. In E. T. Trueba & L. I. Bartolome (Eds.), _Immigrant Voices_ (pp. 37-730). New York: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc.

Valenzuela, A. (1999). _Subtractive schooling: U. S.–Mexican youth and the politics of caring._ Albany: State University of New York Press.

Additional Bibliography

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Coe, M. D. (1999). _The maya_ (6th ed.). New York: Thames & Hudson.

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Ebenezer, C. & Williams, J. M. (Producers). (2001). _The celts:_ [vol. 6] _A dead song?_ [television series] 2010 Baseline, 2010 All Media Guide.

Esparza, M. & Quintanilla, A. Jr. (Producers), & Nava, G. (Director). (1997). _Selena_ [Motion picture]. United States: Warner Bros.

Friere, P. (1973). _Pedagogy of the oppressed._ New York: Seabury Press.

Garcia, C. P. (1988). _Captain blas maria de la garza falcon: Colonizer of south texas._ Corpus Christi: Grunwald Publishing Company.

Gibson, M. A. (1988). _Accommodation without assimilation: Sikh immigrants in an american high school._ Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

Harris, C. H. III, & Sadler, L. R. (2004). _The texas rangers and the mexican revolution: The bloodiest decade, 1910-1920._ Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press.

Harrin, B. H. (2010). _Helena texas: The toughest town on earth._ San Antonio: Comanche Press.

Hodges, G. (2015, January). How a tiny 12,000 year old teenager became the first american. _National Geographic_ , 127-137.

Horwitz, T. (2008). _A voyage long and strange: Rediscovering the new world._ New York: Henry Holt and Company.

Hunter, J. M. & Saunders, G. W. (1925). _The trail drivers of texas._ Austin: University of Texas Press.

Launer, D. & Schiff, P. (Producers), & Lynn, J. (Director). (1992). _My cousin vinny._ United States: 20th Century Fox International.

Leyba, C. F. (Ed.). (1994). _Schooling and language minority students: A theoretical framework._ Los Angeles, CA: Evaluation, Dissemination and Assessment Center, California State University.

Mann, C. (2007). _1491: Una nueva historia de las america's antes de colon. New York:_ Seven Stories Press.

Murphy, J. (2003). _Inside the alamo._ New York: Delacorte Press.

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Perez, B. & Torres-Guzman, M. E. (1996). _Learning in two worlds: An integrated spanish/English biliteracy approach_ (2nd Ed _._ ). USA: Longman Publishers.

Rhoads, R. A., & Valadez, J. R. (1996). _Democracy, multiculturalism, and the community college: A critical perspective._ New York: Garland Publishing, Inc.

Santos, J. P. (1999). _Places left unfinished at the time of creation._ New York: Viking Penguin.

Schmoker, M. J. (2011). _Focus: Elevating the essentials to radically improve student learning_. Alexandria, VA.: Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development.

Shorris, E. (1992). _Latinos: A biography of the people._ New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc.

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Smith, R. E. (1986). River of blood. Texas rangers terrorize the border: "We got another mexican, but he's dead." _Texas Monthly,_ January issue.

Spindler, G. (2000). _Fifty years of anthropology and education 1950–2000: A spindler anthology._ Mahwah, New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

Swartz, B. (2001, March 28). Problems with bilingual education now clearer [Letter to the editor]. _The Houston Chronicle,_ Viewpoints, p. 29A.

Thom, J. A. (2006). _St. patrick's battalion: A novel of the mexican-american war._ New York: Random House.

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Vigil, D. J. (1980). _From Indians to chicanos: The dynamics of mexican american culture._ Prospect Heights, Illinois: Waveland Press, Inc.

Vigil, J. D. (1988). _Barrio gangs: Street life and identity in southern california._ Austin: University of Texas Press.

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Wichita Weekly Times (Feb. 15, 1918). _The halifax survivors: Safety of more men is definitely assured_. Associated Press, (p. 4) _._

Willis, R. I. (2000). _Critical issue: Addressing literacy needs in culturally and linguistically diverse classrooms._ North Central Regional Educational Laboratory.

Wilson, D. M. (2011). _Dual language programs on the rise._ Harvard Education Letter, 27(2), March/April.

Zou, Y. & Trueba, H. T. (1998). _Ethnic identity and power: Cultural contexts of political action in school and society._ Albany: State University of New York Press.

Zou, Y, & Trueba, H. T. (2001). [Achievement factors among best latino, asian, and anglo-american high school students in houston: An ethnographic study of learning environments and strategies across languages and cultures]. Unpublished raw data.

**List of Photos and Illustrations**

1) Trail Bridge—park (Friendswood, TX.)—photo, private collection

2) Map of Honduras—Google Images

3) Texas Rangers—Google Images

4) Alberto Díaz, 1918—photo, private collection

5) Map of Panama—Google Images

6) CLEP Spanish Exam—Google Images

7) Captain Blas María de la Garza Falcón: ...(book cover)

8) The Very First Thanksgiving: ...(book cover)

9) Aztec Warrior—photo, private collection

10) Map of Beringia—Google Images

11) Lady Liberty—photo, private collection

12) Friendship Monument (Corpus Christi)—Google Images

13) Map of Nueva España—Google Images

14) Battle of The Alamo—Google Images

15) Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs—Google Images

16) Yum Kaax—photo, private collection

17) Mayan Pyramid—Google Images

18) Elena Torres-Díaz, 1938—photo, private collection

19) Pleistocene North America—Google Images

20) Subtractive Schooling: U.S.-Mexican Youth and ... (book cover)

21) Crystal Apple Award—photo, private collection

22) Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs—Google Images

23) Wooden Bridge—Tunica-Biloxi Nature Trail (Marksville, LA.)

24) Enrique (Henry) T. Trueba headstone—photo, private collection

25) Conejo Mountain Memorial Park—(Camarillo, CA.)

26) American Latinos, USA, Siglo XXI—photo, private collection

All Google images obtained with usage rights as follows: _"Free to use, share or modify, even commercially."_

###

Thank you for reading my book. I am confident that the groundwork has already been laid, over many decades, and by countless individuals, for a breakthrough in improving the educational experience of all Latino youth. The potential to redirect student trajectories from probable failure to achievement and life-long success has never been so close at hand.

Thank you,

A. D.

**About the Author**

Alfredo Diaz was raised near Alton in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas. He was stationed with the U.S. Army at Ft. Riley, Kansas and the Panama Canal Zone. After military service, he earned a B.A. in Environmental Studies at Southwest Texas State University, and a doctorate in education from the University of Houston. He has worked in the field of public education as a teacher and assistant principal in Houston area schools for twenty years.

**Connect with Me**

For questions or comments, contact Alfredo (Fred) Diaz at dontspeakspanish2015@yahoo.com.
