Dear Readers

Michael Klonsky
Director of Small Schools Workshop

The small schools movement has always been the place where the Coalition's principles can really come alive, where big ideas about personalization and democratic education can translate into strategies for substantive and meaningful change, where school and community can come together and new leadership can emerge.

Nationally, a new round of foundation and federal grants seems to have stirred up the pot of school change and thrown hundreds of educators into the mix. But for me, the most exciting struggle for school reform is taking place right here in Chicago without any such funding. It started over a year ago in the predominantly Mexican community of Little Village. Parents and community members had been asking for a new high school to relieve the severe overcrowding. After their requests had been repeatedly rejected by the old school administration, parents went on a 12-day hunger strike that attracted widespread community support and, finally, produced the plan to open Little Village High School in 2005.

The question now becomes, "What kind of school do we want?" Throughout the summer, teams of community residents have been meeting with architects and school planners to design a new facility with four small schools on one campus -each one with its own curricular focus and full administrative autonomy.

Is Little Village a harbinger of things to come? With more than a half-trillion dollars being spent on new school construction over the next decade, we'd better become good at working together with community folks like those in Little Village to help create the next wave of small schools from the bottom up.

Jill Davidson, Horace Editor

Public confession: my single attempt at high school truancy failed dismally. In tenth grade, I skipped a violin lesson. I attended a small high school; the adults on campus knew the students well. My violin teacher asked my English teacher where I was, and he suggested that she check the far end of the school library, where, of course, is where she found me, lost in a book. Frustrated, I snapped at her, "I can’t hide in this school for five minutes!" Decades later, I am happy to understand that being known and visible to the school community is precisely the point, and I wish the same for my children (I also wish that if they want to quit playing the violin, they have the courage to speak up rather than try to disappear).

This issue of Horace looks at seven Essential schools where students neither can nor want to hide. These schools share determined commitments centered on trust, personal connection, and relevance. They have created curricula, assessment systems, and expectations for real work that depend on teachers and students knowing each other well.

As always, many thanks to the teachers, students, and administrators who took precious time to meet, talk, and help me know their schools better. So many schools are working in parallel -and when possible, together-to refine the work of good schooling, share common truths and help their particular students find their way. I can only include a few at any one time in Horace, but I am nonetheless grateful to all for the cumulative work.