Eva
Dear Eva,
Because Jane was unwilling to release her son’s records, we were of course unwilling to allow her to openly criticize the school. Her role in the piece is limited and should not be a cause for concern on your part.
Our piece also emphasizes—“celebrates” might be a more appropriate verb—your network’s focus on science and the arts, its remarkable academic success, and its widespread popularity.
Respectfully,
John
On October 12, the segment aired. It didn’t “celebrate” our “academic success” or our “focus on science and the arts.” Instead, it criticized us for allegedly “suspend[ing] very young children over and over” for trivial misconduct. Jane Doe and her son were his sole on-the-record sources for these allegations, despite Merrow’s assurances that they wouldn’t be allowed to “openly criticize” our school. Jane Doe said her son had been suspended for “meltdowns,” “cry[ing],” and “outbursts,” and he said he’d gotten in trouble for “wearing red shoes” and not “keep[ing his] shirt tucked in.” In fact, our records showed that her son (whom I’ll call John Doe) had been suspended for innumerable violent incidents including throwing a classmate against a wall and threatening “to use [the boy’s] head like a soccer ball”; lifting his desk above his head and attempting to throw it at other students; kicking, scratching, and punching a teacher; throwing a stapler; punching a teacher and continuing to do so even after the teacher said, “You’re hurting me,” requiring safety guards to be called; and choking a teacher. On one occasion when John misbehaved, his mother said, “I’m gonna beat your ass” and told her son that she intended to have the police lock him out. On a museum field trip, John began “screaming” and then “kicking the walls and doors,” so a security guard restrained him. John’s teacher called Ms. Doe, hoping that she could help calm him down by speaking to him over the phone. This is the teacher’s contemporaneous account of what happened next:
Before I could speak, Mom started screaming on the phone, “Let go of my son!” John hit the phone out of my hand and onto the floor, ran away from the museum worker, and took my phone. Mom kept calling my phone and I told John he could answer, knowing it was Mom, but he refused. [Another teacher] tried to calm John down, but he then went screaming and running around kicking people, slamming doors and screaming. [The other teacher] had her cell phone out and John took hers and threw it across the room with mine and both broke. Two museum workers had to restrain John as he kicked and screamed. A museum worker then asked us to leave the building.
Unfortunately, John behaved this way often. Frankly, it was only by applying a very lenient standard that John was suspended only eight times over nearly three years. Had we suspended him for minor infractions, as Merrow claimed, he’d have been suspended daily.
I wrote PBS demanding a retraction. As I explained in my letter, not only was Merrow’s account regarding John Doe a complete fiction, so too was his claim that Success had a high rate of student attrition due to suspensions:
New York City’s Independent Budget Office and WNYC public radio have found attrition in district schools [is] 13 percent annually.61 Success’s is 10 percent according to data obtained by WNYC.62 Thus, Success has a lower attrition rate than most district schools [or] charter schools (10.8 percent).63
PBS issued a “clarification” conceding we “should have been given a chance to respond” to Jane Doe’s claims but stood by Merrow’s report because other anonymous parents had allegedly made similar accusations. PBS seemed utterly untroubled by the fact that, with the claims of Merrow’s sole on-the-record source disproven, the entire report now rested on anonymous sources whose claims weren’t and couldn’t be fact-checked. As for attrition, PBS claimed Merrow’s analysis was based on “internal documents” but refused to share with us this secret stash of data that supposedly proved that both WNYC and the Independent Budget Office had gotten it all wrong. (Months later, Merrow got into a fight with WNYC that ended with his deleting portions of a blog entry critiquing WNYC’s methodology.)64
Although journalists are loath to criticize one another, Merrow’s violations of journalistic ethics were too egregious to overlook. One journalist pronounced Merrow’s work “shoddy.”65 Another marveled that a seasoned reporter would ignore such a “basic journalistic requirement” as allowing us to respond.66 The Washington Post called Merrow’s emails to me “damning” and rejected PBS’s claim that Merrow’s report could stand independently of the debunked claims regarding John Doe: “To any objective observer, Merrow’s story most certainly was about” John Doe and PBS’s claim to the contrary was “what you call Ex Post Facto Story Redefinition.” Even PBS’s own ombudsman felt compelled to speak out:
[A]ll the critics are anonymous except two, the mother and her son. And she won’t release her son’s records, which probably should have been another red flag signaling that perhaps this youngster did do some pretty bad things. . . . There is, for me, just too much in this presentation that depends on anonymous “Eva Moskowitz’s critics,” and “other parents told us” and “but our sources . . . charge.”
Anonymous sources can sometimes be used responsibly, but this wasn’t one of those instances. First, Merrow’s anonymous sources were addressing a topic on which people find it hard to be objective: their children’s flaws. That’s particularly true of parents whose children have behavioral challenges. Thus, it’s hardly surprising that a half dozen of the ten thousand or so families we serve would claim their children had been unfairly disciplined. Second, this was an instance in which anonymity fundamentally undermined Merrow’s ability to fact-check his story. That’s not always true. Suppose an anonymous source claims a company has fired its CFO because he was a whistle-blower. The reporter could then ask the company why it fired its CFO, see if it holds water, and, at a minimum, report the company’s version. Here, however, Merrow’s unwillingness to reveal the names of the children in question prevented us from pulling up the relevant records and giving him our side of the story regarding these students.
Working with anonymous sources requires that journalists maintain a healthy level of skepticism but Merrow just assumed that any parent who’d criticized Success was being truthful. He did for the same reason he lied to me about his story, refused to let us respond to Jane Doe, and created his bogus secret statistical analysis: he didn’t believe young children should ever be suspended. Of course, Merrow was entitled to his own opinion about whether we should suspend young children, but not to his own facts about why we do.
Another journalist named Dana Goldstein commented regarding Merrow’s piece that “even little kids are capable of violent behavior that impacts other children’s ability to learn” and that the problems this presents “are some of the toughest in education.” Critics of tough discipline policies like to put their head in the sand and focus on only the interests of the child being disciplined, forgetting that the needs of other students are at issue as well. In the museum incident, for example, the entire class had to leave the museum, thus losing this educational opportunity. A violent child can also hurt other children. A parent whose child is in a class with such a student expects the school to do something to make sure the classroom is safe. Reasonable minds can’t differ about how a school should balance the needs of a student who is having difficulty behaving with the needs of that student’s classmates for a safe and productive learning environment, and a serious examination of that dilemma would be a worthwhile public service. Instead, however, Merrow preferred to pretend this challenge didn’t exist by falsely claiming that we were suspending children for minor infractions. In peddling this fiction, Merrow not only denigrated our educators, he also failed his viewers.
Far more damage, however, was inflicted by a series of articles by New York Times reporter Kate Taylor. Two weeks before Merrow’s report came out, she let us know she was writing about an incident at our school in Fort Greene, Brooklyn, where I’d appointed a new p
rincipal, Candido Brown, ten months earlier. Like many of our educators, Candido’s commitment stemmed from personal experience, as he’d explained to another reporter soon after his appointment:
I attended schools where we didn’t get homework. I was afraid to go to school. I didn’t do anything all day. I didn’t learn to read until later.
My mom was a drug addict. I was taken care of by my sister, faked many days of sickness because I hated school. I was afraid I would be picked on or beat up.
My work today is to ensure my children come to a school that’s safe, that’s rigorous, that’s warm, that’s engaging, that’s fun.
Candido had his work cut out for him because our Fort Greene school had a lot of problems. I’d been trying to fix those problems and in fact had appointed Candido in the hope that he could turn things around. Only two weeks after he took charge, I got a report suggesting he was succeeding:
Parents have responded really well to [Candido’s] presence. They feel they have access to him and that he is being far more transparent than his predecessors. We are all happy with the changes he’s making. The tone of the school is far more calm and controlled.
Four days later, however, a troubling email was brought to my attention. Under the heading “got to go,” it listed sixteen students whose behavioral problems Candido apparently felt were too severe for the school to handle. Now, it’s true that some students have learning or behavioral challenges that are so severe that, both for their own benefit and those of other students, they need to attend District 75 schools like PS 811, the school at issue in our fight with de Blasio. Nearly twenty-four thousand children, about 2 percent of New York City public school students, attend such schools. None of our principals, however, had ever claimed to have sixteen such students. Candido’s list had to include students whose behavior, while no doubt challenging, could nonetheless be addressed in a conventional school setting.
I suspected Candido had given short shrift to his obligation to help challenging students overcome their behavioral problems because he wanted to ensure his students wouldn’t suffer from the same type of unruly and unsafe school environment he’d experienced as a child. Nonetheless, he violated our policies, so I immediately took action. I emailed my managing director of schools, Deanna Durrett, to get her help:
Not only did I react strongly to language in the email but I know Candido to be stubborn. He needs a strong wake-up call.
I put Success’s Michele Vespi, our managing director of talent, in charge of organizing the meetings that would deliver this wake-up call and she soon reported back to me that Deanna had already had “an extensive conversation” with Candido and that he was “confirmed to come to the Network tomorrow” to speak with both Michele herself and Emily Kim. Thus, we took this so seriously that we were having three of our top people meet with Candido: our general counsel, our managing director of schools, and our managing director of talent.
Deanna reported back to me afterward that the meetings had gone well and that Candido now understood “how problematic his words and approach were.” Candido himself wrote:
I apologize for this incident and will be more mindful moving forward. I am dedicated to all our children and want to ensure each one receives the education he/she deserves.
I was pleased with this response but I nonetheless appointed Danique Loving, one of our most experienced and capable principals, to keep a close eye on Candido.
Happily, the message seemed to get through. We require teachers to keep detailed records and these records demonstrate that our teachers made valiant efforts to help the students on Candido’s list and that, far from trying to push out these students, teachers had positive communications with them. Here are some excerpts from these records:
1/8/2015: “Called mom to let her know that this week has been one of [student]’s best in the whole year.”
1/25/2015: Email to parent: “This week went really well. I’ll continue to practice the strategies you have shared. We want him to be successful, so if there are any other strategies you recommend, please let me know! I appreciate all your help in communicating with me and with [student] so he can feel successful! Let me know if there’s anything else I can do!”
2/2/2015: Email to parent: “I can totally tell you have been working with him, he was very enthusiastic today and his work and focus was much improved. He shared with the class today. I have attached a picture of him sharing.” Mom’s reply email: “You just brought tears to my eyes!!!! Thank you so much. I will continue my efforts!!”
3/9/2015: “Called to let [parent] know that though [student] had fourteen corrections, he was still putting forth his best effort all day with no crawling under furniture. Mom was very pleased to hear about this.”
3/9/2015: Email to parent: “[Student] had a really good day. Both Ms. B. and I were working on ensuring that we used calm, neutral tones when talking to him so as to not upset or anger him when giving corrections. I was informed we are going to put [student] in [another classroom]. Ms. B. and I both will miss him very much. We have poured a lot of time and love into him. I wish him all the best and will be checking in on him.” Mom’s reply email: “Thank you. I appreciate all of the hard work and effort that both you and Ms. B. have put into educating [student].”
4/15/2015: Teacher called mom to tell her “[student] earned special pizza lunch with [Candido] Brown [for] following directions, and doing his work. Mom was happy.”
4/15/2015: Email to parent: “Here is a picture of [student] on his second time-in [i.e., a chance for a child to play], which was ten minutes long because he earned four stars! He said his playdough is a T-Rex named [Candido] Brown! The work you did with him has helped him tremendously today. Thank you so much for your hard work and support with him. We could not be more grateful.”
Plainly, our teachers were trying to help these kids adjust to Success, not trying to get them to leave, although their behavior was often quite challenging, as our records reflect:
“[Student] hit the scholar behind him.”
“[Student] jumped out of his seat, grabbed a pencil, and stabbed another scholar in the finger.”
“Another scholar was raising his hand to ask a question and [student] swatted at his hand twice. The boy yelled stop and [student] went to hit again but I stopped him.”
“Sent [student] home early for two-handedly pushing teacher into garbage pail.”
“[Student] turned around and punched another scholar.”
“[Student] took off his shoe and threw it at me and it hit my shoulder.”
“[Student] 1) had the folder over his shoulder, looking ready to swing it down on another scholar; 2) after intercepting that hit by running across the room and standing between [student] and the other scholar, he threw the folder down on the table; 3) when asked to step outside the room, he yelled at me, said no, kicked over the garbage bin, and continued yelling; 4) I was finally able to talk and walk him over to the door frame. When I asked him to breathe (some of his calming strategies), he hit my rib cage with a closed fist; 5) when other teachers came to help, he did not follow directions.”
Given that we had some challenging students and a well-meaning but relatively green principal, I felt we’d handled this situation as well as could be expected. Candido had written his list on December 9 and by December 12, just three days later, we’d reprimanded him, he’d acknowledged his error, and the school was now sincerely trying to help these kids with their behavioral issues.
Ten months later, Kate Taylor told us someone had given her Candido’s list and she intended to write about it. We told her that Candido’s actions didn’t reflect our policies and gave her virtually all of the information above, but it made no difference. On October 29, the Times published Taylor’s article, which bore the title “At a Success Academy Charter School, Singling Out Pupils Who Have ‘Got to Go.’” At every turn, she’d crafted her article to make it appear that Candido’s list reflected our policies. For example, only a
fter Taylor built up the case against us with nine lengthy paragraphs littered with the claims of anonymous sources (sound familiar?) and of a parent who said her child had been “treated unfairly” did Taylor finally get around to letting the reader know that Candido had been reprimanded and, even then, made it sound very unconvincing:
In a written response to questions, Success Academy’s spokeswoman, Ann Powell, said that the “Got to Go” list was a mistake and that the network quickly got wind of it and reprimanded Mr. Brown.
Taylor left out all of the details about the reprimand: the fact that we’d brought Candido into the Network, that we’d done so the day after the list had been brought to our attention, that the reprimand had been delivered by three of Success’s top people, and that Candido had apologized for his conduct. To the reader, it therefore sounded like a typical unsubstantiated media flak denial.
Taylor also completely ignored the information we’d given her about our teachers’ efforts to help students. We’d even put her in touch with several parents on Candido’s list whose children were treated so well that they had no idea anyone at Success had ever thought their child should attend a different school, but Taylor managed to make even that sound nefarious:
[W]hen a reporter asked if she knew that her son had been included last year on the “Got to Go” list, Ms. Cooper said she did not.
“I’m a little upset about that,” she said after a minute. “They could have let me know he was on a list that he ‘had to go.’”
Thus, Taylor made it sound like our success in making Ms. Cooper feel her child was welcome was somehow dishonest.
Of course, just like Merrow, Taylor bolstered her story with anonymous sources who’d supposedly told her that “some administrators singled out children they would like to see leave.” This sounds damning, but it’s unclear what it means. As noted above, 2 percent of district school students have sufficiently serious intellectual or mental health issues that they need to attend special programs. We also get some such students. In other cases, Success just isn’t the best fit for a child. Just as some college students do better at big universities while others are more suited to a small liberal arts college, Success isn’t ideal for every child. If we think a child would do better in a different school, whether it’s a specialized program or just a school with a different approach, we’ll tell a parent that, as we should. Yet Taylor characterized this as “singling out children we would like to see leave.”
The Education of Eva Moskowitz Page 32
