|
True believer
He's coached football and boosted troubled urban
schools. Now Secretary of Education Rod Paige faces a new
challenge: bringing schools in line with sweeping US reforms.
By Amanda Paulson, The Christian Science Monitor,
September 10, 2002
For more articles on disabilities and special ed visit
www.bridges4kids.org
and
www.educationnews.org.
HOUSTON AND WASHINGTON - Nothing in Rod Paige's office speaks
of children. There are no drawings on the walls. No kids'
books on the square, wooden coffee table. No family
photographs in sight.
The US secretary of education keeps his desktop clear, his
files organized, his gray tie in a neat windsor knot. He's an
orderly man and a private one, who describes his personal
journey with characteristic reserve.
But get Secretary Paige talking about education, and his voice
takes on an unexpected fervor. He'll move to the edge of his
chair, plant his ostrich-skin cowboy boots on the floor, and,
with evangelical passion, tell you of his vision for America's
schools.
In order to turn this country's troubled schools around, he'll
explain, we first must know what's wrong with them. And that
requires testing. Lots of it. Every year.
With an emphatic wave of his hand, he dismisses critics of
"teaching to the test." What's wrong with it, he asks, if the
tests contain what kids should know?
He sees no problem with holding each school accountable for
its performance.
And time and time again, he'll stress the importance of
setting high standards – for everyone. Especially those who,
like Paige, started out at a disadvantage.
"We are not capable of measuring kids' potential," he says.
"So we can't just say we'll have this low expectation for this
kid, and for this kid over here we'll have this expectation.
We'll have high expectations for all."
If it sounds as if Paige is the chief salesman for President
Bush's education policy – and particularly for the new
legislation that requires measuring school performance as
never before – it's because he is. But spend a little time
with Paige, as he crisscrosses the country promoting this
vision of learning to educators from Los Angeles to
Louisville, Ky., and you'll discover he's much more than a
mouthpiece.
Rod Paige is a true believer.
Perhaps that is because he himself is a product of a
no-excuses education, a black Mississippian who grew up at a
time of separate and unequal schools. It may reflect a
toughness forged on the football field, first as a player and
then as a coach. Or it could be because the blueprint Paige
used as superintendent to improve Houston schools has become
the very cornerstone of the administration's No Child Left
Behind Act.
"If you don't believe it can be done, you don't put the energy
into it," says Paige, dismissing the critics who say the Bush
plan is underfunded, ill-thought-out and, ultimately,
unworkable. "I have seen lots of elementary schools – not just
one – that are populated by kids who have all these at-risk
factors. I've seen these kids soar."
If Paige believes unequivocally in what he's selling, however,
it is less clear that the administration believes as firmly in
him. Last summer, rumors flew that the president was treating
Paige as a token hire, and some still question the secretary's
effectiveness. The man credited with turning around Houston's
schools has yet to prove himself on the national stage.
But capital insiders shouldn't be too quick to discount Rod
Paige, old friends warn. They've seen his drive and tenacity
when confronting an issue he cares about, and they say he's an
easy man to underestimate.
This is the year that will begin to show who's right, for
Paige must not only sell the president's plan for American
education, he must also enforce it. How well he succeeds could
shape his own legacy as well as the direction of US public
schools for years to come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To the casual acquaintance, Rod Paige is something of an
enigma. He's a black Republican from the Deep South; a former
football coach who reads obsessively; a father who keeps close
counsel about his son and former wife; a powerful and affluent
man who's kept the same modest house for 30 years.
Friends and colleagues acknowledge Paige isn't one to waste
words. Yet they see no mystery in his ways. They see the big
brother in a family of five who led debates around the kitchen
table. They know the man who stayed put as his neighborhood
evolved from mostly white to all black, the school
superintendent who never got too important to serve as an
usher at Houston's Brentwood Baptist Church, where he was one
of the first black members. And they see someone who never
concedes defeat.
"He's a Nerf ball with a steel core," says friend Don McAdams,
who has watched Paige work hard to build consensus but never
retreat from his central beliefs. Paige's work for those
beliefs, friends add, never seems to end.
"Rod, you're going to be successful," his mother would say,
according to Mr. McAdams. "The reason is not because you're
smarter than everybody else. There are always going to be
people out there smarter. But nobody'll work harder than you.
You just work twice as hard as the other guy. If he's working
20 hours a day, you work 21."
Paige's father was a principal, a church deacon, a Boy Scout
leader. His mother was a teacher and librarian. Both parents
emphasized that education was the way out of tiny Monticello,
Miss., at a time when the Klan still defined much of what
passed for justice.
It was never an option for the Paige children not to go to
college.
All five siblings graduated from four-year schools. Three
completed doctorates. And like their parents, four went on to
be educators. All this despite the fact that students in the
Paiges' segregated, wooden schoolhouse had few textbooks.
Education was something you sought out back then, not
something you were handed.
And Raynor and Sophie Paige made sure their children were
seekers.Every night, they would gather around the kitchen
table to do their homework. If they finished, they read. If
friends stopped by, they did homework too.
When Rod, the oldest, was left in charge, he enforced those
rules. "He doesn't understand people who don't read all the
time," says sister Elaine Witty, who recently retired as dean
of the education school at Norfolk State University in
Virginia.
Even today, when Paige thinks back on his childhood, he thinks
of animated discussions about books.
These often led to debates, another favorite family pastime.
In order to beat their brother, Ms. Witty remembers, she and
her two sisters used to gang up on him. "It took three of us
to outtalk him," she says. But though Paige loved learning,
sports were his passion.
When he enrolled at Mississippi's Jackson State College in
1951, he majored in physical education and was an end on the
school's football team. It was his coach, Harrison Wilson, who
persuaded him to go to graduate school. "Here was a guy who
had his doctorate, who we referred to as Dr. Wilson. We looked
up to him," Paige remembers. Like Wilson, he went to Indiana
University, for a PhD in physical education. His dissertation
topic: the reflex times of offensive linemen.
It was football that brought Paige to Houston in 1971, as a
coach and athletic director at Texas Southern University. He
bought a three-bedroom, one-story brick house in a development
south of town, the kind of neighborhood where every front lawn
is manicured and cars are all garaged.
Today, his neighborhood is a mix of professionals and
blue-collar workers. Paige stayed, even when he became a dean
at TSU, even after his salary as superintendent of Houston
public schools climbed to $275,000 a year.
"Why would Rod move?" asks Rick Holden, a neighbor and former
member of Paige's coaching staff. "That's one of his best
friends over there" – he points across the street – "and down
there's another college dean he knew. Over there is a man who
worked at TSU with both of us."
One thing, however, did separate Paige from his neighbors.
He'd been a registered Republican ever since George H.W. Bush
invited him to attend the Republican National Convention in
1980 by way of thanks for working on his campaign in the Texas
primaries. Though GOP campaign signs had a way of disappearing
from Paige's front yard, his neighbors usually looked past his
politics. When he ran for school board in 1989, he won easily.
"People who didn't support Bush still supported Rod," says Joe
Samuel Ratliff, pastor of Paige's church. "You never sensed he
wasn't in touch with his community."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In Don McAdams's office at the Center for Reform of School
Systems, a small framed note hangs by his desk. Scrawled on a
piece of paper, it reads, "Dr. McAdams, 'You da mann.' " It is
signed, "Rod Paige."
A reminder of McAdams's years on the school board, the note
refers to one of many line-in-the-sand battles he and Paige
fought together.
The year was 1998, and a group of newly elected board members
wanted to reverse a policy that gave the superintendent total
hiring and firing authority in the district. The morning of
the vote, Paige, McAdams, and another supporter on the board
met at Starbucks to plot strategy. The other member
recommended compromise – perhaps Paige could cede authority on
the most senior positions. Paige was adamant: He kept all
authority, or he resigned.
In the tense meeting that followed, McAdams used that threat
to help sway two critical votes. The note by his desk, he
says, shows just how steely his easygoing friend can become
when pushed.
There were other tests. Even Paige's appointment, in 1994, was
mired in controversy. That the school board had picked one of
its own as superintendent, without a search process, made some
citizens furious. Hispanics felt it was high time for a Latino
superintendent. Bitter disputes played out in board meetings,
in community hearings, in the pages of the Houston Chronicle.
Yet one by one, Paige won over his critics.
He asked advice from business leaders and listened to what
they had to say. When reading wars raged between phonics
advocates and those who prefer a more-varied approach, Paige
helped carve out common ground. And when a $390 million bond
issue was voted down in 1996, he spent two years listening to
parents, community members, and union leaders – time that
helped him push through a $678 million bond issue in 1998. "He
is a consensus-builder," says local NAACP president Howard
Jefferson.
His low-key demeanor was refreshing for acity used to
superintendents with big cars, big houses, and big egos.
Indeed, Gayle Fallon, the head of Houston's teachers' union,
chuckles when she imagines Paige in protocol-minded
Washington. "Rod would as soon go to a cafeteria for lunch as
go to a high-end restaurant," she says.
Ms. Fallon was once an outspoken critic of Paige. What changed
her mind, she says, was his commitment to his beliefs. "He is
a truly decent human being. He's not necessarily in [politics]
so he can make Rod look better, but because he truly believes
every child can learn."
In Houston schools, children seemed to be learning.
Under Paige, social promotion ended. Houston became the first
Texas school district to tie principals' contracts to
performance. Between 1994 and 2000, reading and math scores on
the Texas Assessment of Academic Skills (TAAS) rose
substantially. More significantly, the achievement gap in
mathematics between white and Hispanic students narrowed from
36 percent to 14 percent.
The news began to trickle out. The Council of Great City
Schools gave Paige its award for outstanding urban educators
in 1999; in 2000, he won the Harold W. McGraw Jr. prize in
education; in 2001, the American Association of School
Administrators named him superintendent of the year. "Houston
had as healthy a political environment as any school system in
America," says Sandy Kress, Bush's former education adviser,
who was a school board member in Dallas at the time. "It got
egos to the side, people moving in the same direction. Does
[Paige] deserve all the credit? No. But a lot of it? You bet."
Not everyone agreed. Some said that Terry Abbot, the PR whiz
Paige hired, was responsible for spinning the success story. A
few educators and parents complained the schools had become
virtual testing factories. Others claimed that higher test
scores masked the fact that many low-achieving students had
dropped out.
But with national praise, a compelling story of personal
achievement, and a friendship with the Bush family, Paige was
a natural pick for the cabinet. He headed to Washington with
more experience in the field than any previous education
secretary – and no experience in the corridors and back rooms
of the capital.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Paige learned one difference early on: In Washington, he no
longer sits atop the chain of command. For a man used to
leading, that took some adjusting.
"Here, it's the president's plan. If I take an action, the
next day the Washington Post doesn't say, 'Rod Paige did
this.' It says, 'the Bush administration.' I'm part of a team
now. That part of it took some consideration."
By insiders' accounts, other aspects of life in Washington
also required adjustment. Last summer, rumors flew that the
president had shut Paige out of his inner circle of
advisers.One particularly harsh article in The New Republic
called him "dead weight." Some said Mr. Kress had far more
influence in shaping No Child Left Behind.
"His personality doesn't seem to be the type that succeeds in
Washington," says Jack Jennings, director of the nonpartisan
Center on Education Policy. "I get a feeling he doesn't know
how to fight for what he believes in in policy councils, or
how to assert himself as a leader."
But those who fought with and against him in Houston found he
was assertive and effective. It's telling that many of Paige's
former foes have become admirers.
Now, perhaps more than ever, he will need those
consensus-building skills to lead educators. In January, the
No Child Left Behind Act was a "historic bill" beloved in
Washington by both parties. As the reality of its demands
closes in, the reaction is less rosy.
Some former blue-ribbon schools find themselves on the failing
list based on the new grading system. Superintendents who
oversee below-par schools scratch their heads over how to
arrange transportation for children who, under the new law,
must be allowed to attend other schools. And Vermont Gov.
Howard Dean made headlines by declaring he might just refuse
all federal education money if it comes with so many strings
attached.
It's not the principles of the act that he has a problem with,
says Governor Dean. "It's the one-size-fits-all unfunded
mandate.... What's good in Houston is not necessarily good in
Iowa or Minnesota or Vermont." Since the new legislation asks
states to set their own standards, and Vermont's are much
higher than most, Dean says, many of his state's schools may
be ranked artificially low. In such cases, the federal
government may require expensive changes without offering
funds to make them.
Supporters of the law hope Paige will offer a credibility that
few in Washington can claim. That's why some believe he will
yet have a higher profile than many previous education
secretaries.
For now, Paige, who is just finishing a 25-city tour, is
trying to sketch out his vision. He may need a broader palette
to paint the future he imagines, not just for one district but
for an entire country. But it's a task he relishes. In
Houston, his proudest achievement, he says, was "painting in
people's minds the possibilities – painting the future's fate
in such vivid, attractive terms that people would want to go
there and felt they could."
• E-mail comments to paulsona@csmonitor.com
In an interview, Secretary of Education Rod Paige shared his
thoughts on ...
Expectations for children:
The biggest sin is setting low expectations. We are not
capable of measuring kids' potential.... We need to give them
our maximum effort, because we don't know what they're going
to do and how they're going to bloom.
Testing:
[Critics] want to separate testing from teaching. Teaching and
testing are the same thing for us. You cannot teach if you
don't test. If you don't test [students] ... how do you know
where their greatest needs are? How do you know where their
deficits are?
Accountability:
Some of us may not want our vulnerabilities to be seen. But
they must be in order to be corrected. Even those who argue
about disaggregating data ... don't want us to say – well,
these African-American kids are not doing well, the Hispanic
kids are not doing well, the rural kids are not doing well.
But when you say they're not doing well ... you've got to do
something. If you don't see them not doing well, they stay
invisible.
School choice:
[My] attraction [to] school choice [is] not because I want to
erode the public school system. It is because I know the
public system cannot grow protecting its market. It has to
expose itself to competition. And when it does, it is capable
of beating the competition. Everyone who knows Education
Secretary Rod Paige comments on his voracious appetite for
books.
Paige's page turners
Everyone who knows Education Secretary Rod Paige comments on
his voracious appetite for books.
Here's a selection from Mr. Paige's current reading list:
Birth of the Chaordic Age by Dee Hock
Jack: Straight From the Gut by Jack Welch
The Next Deal: The Future of Public Life in the Information
Age by Andrei Cherny
Built to Last: Successful Habits of Visionary Companies by
James Collins and Jerry Porras
Tinkering Toward Utopia: A Century of Public School Reform by
David Tyack
The Tipping Point: How Little Things Can Make a BIg Difference
by Malcolm Gladwell
The Complexity Advantage by Susanne Kelly and Mary Ann Allison
Building CIvic Capacity: The Politics of Reforming Urban
Schools by Clarence Stone, Jeffrey Henig, Bryan Jones, and
Carol Pierannunzi
|
