I Wish My Teacher Knew

by Kyle Schwartz

  When it comes to school nursing, many people think the job entails Band-Aids and ice packs, but that is just scratching the surface. Our job is identifying and addressing health issues that can affect a student’s learning. My role as a school nurse is to make sure that the students in our school are healthy enough to learn, and many times that means combating childhood hunger. That is why I am a strong advocate for my students. I cannot stand by and watch our students go hungry.

  In 1946, a growing understanding of the relationship between nutrition and learning prompted President Harry S. Truman to create one of the largest feeding programs in the history of our country and, importantly, he housed it inside our schools. Since its creation, more than 224 billion meals have been served to children inside the walls of our schools.

  While educators frequently talk about free lunches, few understand the requirements. In order to qualify for free meals and milk through this program, students must live in households earning no more than 30 percent above the national poverty threshold. This threshold is determined by the federal government each year and does not take into account geographical differences in cost of living, as it is the same for the entire continental United States, although curiously Alaska and Hawaii have a different, higher threshold.

  The eligibility requirements tell us about the income of our students’ families. For the 2013–14 school year, this meant that a household of two, say a single parent and child, would qualify for free meals and milk if the family earned no more than $399 each week, or $20,748 before deductions annually. When the child attended school, he would receive free lunches, and his enrollment would count toward that school’s FRL rate.

  Let’s use an example of a single parent with one child to investigate how this works. In a standard workweek this single parent would earn an hourly wage of $9.97, which is far above our federal minimum wage of $7.25 an hour. With some exceptions, if you work for minimum wage, your children qualify for free or reduced-price lunches. It could be said that the National School Lunch Program is subsidizing employers who pay the minimum wage by feeding their employees’ children.

  As evidenced by the existence of our National School Lunch Program, the federal government recognizes that students need proper nutrition to learn. But when we dig into the numbers, the program also acknowledges that the minimum wage is not a sufficient wage with which to feed a child. From the private sector to local governments, there is an abundance of opinions on what the ideal minimum wage should be. But seldom is the perspective of an educator solicited or considered.

  Why should teachers care about the eligibility requirements for the National School Lunch Program and the minimum wage? Because it matters to our students. The minimum wage is a learning issue because it is arguably not a living wage. Half of our students are living in environments with food insecurity. Our school lunch program provides some meals to hungry students, but only on school days. It is not enough to ameliorate the effects of food insecurity on our students’ learning.

  Food insecurity is defined by the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) as “consistent access to adequate food is limited by a lack of money and other resources at times during the year.” Living in poverty, and therefore, living without consistent access to nutrition, affects a child’s academic success because, as a study published in the American Society for Nutritional Sciences concluded, “Food insecurity acts as a psychological or emotional stressor, affecting parent and child behavior.”

  What My Teacher Doesn’t Know

  Briti’s Story

  Many things in my life changed for my family when my mother courageously took legal measures to protect myself and my sisters from my father’s abuse. When my father subsequently abandoned our family, suddenly there was no income in our home. The fear of living with an abusive father was quickly replaced by the stress and anxiety of financial uncertainty. Each member of my family had their role to play in keeping us afloat and it was now my shared responsibility to support us financially; all while trying to pass my sophomore year of high school.

  Immediately, living in poverty caused me to live under a new burden of secrecy. Struggling financially was not the norm at my large suburban high school. I was not the only one in this same situation. There were several other students who felt isolated in an environment which seemed to be set up to serve the students who had easy access to money and resources. It felt like there was an overwhelming assumption that poor students just did not exist.

  So I learned to hide my family’s struggles. I intentionally went through the lunch line last so that no other students would see the register flash $0.00 and make the connection that I received free lunch. I dropped out of extracurricular activities to spare myself from having to ask for help paying the fees. Each day, I told my algebra teacher that I couldn’t find my calculator instead of admitting that there was no money to purchase one. She never inquired further.

  Poverty also led to my identity as a student being redefined. After being held in high esteem by my teachers as a dedicated and responsible student for my entire educational career, I was quickly made to feel as though I was insufficient and also a burden. I could feel their disappointment in me every time I did not have the required school supplies or failed to turn in assignments on time. It was remarkably easy for some teachers to assume that I was lazy and apathetic. But the truth was that I was working at a pizza place every night until midnight in a desperate effort to save my family’s home from foreclosure.

  During this time in my life, school was still my top priority. I felt a tremendous personal responsibility to pull myself and my family out of poverty. I knew the only way this could be done was by completing my education. At times, my schoolwork was compromised in an attempt to meet the immediate needs of my family. There were times when I had to make a difficult choice to skip math homework in order to pick up an extra shift at work, which would keep a roof over my family’s head for one more month.

  A few teachers and school counselors took the time to investigate what was really going on in my life. The empathy and understanding some teachers showed me during this time made me work harder to do well in their classes. I want teachers to know that students who are living in poverty value their education just as much if not more than other students, but we need their support and compassion.

  The rate of the minimum wage and the amount of income in our students’ homes affect their ability to eat and grow, and therefore to learn. Teachers need to understand how issues like food insecurity connect to the minimum wage and impact our classrooms, so that we can advocate for our students and teach them to become strong advocates from themselves.

  Two Americas

  Looking at how our nation’s schools rank internationally tells a powerful story of how poverty affects our students’ educational achievement. Administered every three years to fifteen-year-olds from member countries, the Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA) is an assessment that uses student scores to compare the world’s educational systems.

  America’s ranking is clearly a cause for national embarrassment.

  In the most recent data from 2012, our country ranked seventeenth in the world in reading and twenty-seventh in mathematics. The results of this exam tell a global story, but they also help illustrate what is really happening in our schools on a national level. When we look closely at the data, we see a story of two Americas: one with highly effective schools for the children of wealthy Americans, and one where schools are failing to meet the educational needs of students living in poverty.

  The National Association of Secondary School Principals extrapolated the results of the PISA exam based on each school’s concentration of poverty; that is, what percentage of students were living in poverty. Schools that had a low rate of poverty—10 percent or less—have the second to highest scores in the world. But at the same time, as reported by NEA Today, “In schools where 75 percent or more of the students get free or reduced lunch, the rea
ding score was 446. That’s off the bottom of the charts, below . . . Greece’s 483.” Simply put, the United States has both the best and worst schools in the developed world.

  Apart from infuriating me with such clear inequity, the results of the PISA reveal another truth. In America, we know how to educate children. We are among the best in the world at it. We have the capacity and resources to lead the children who arrive in our schools as five-year-olds, and thirteen years later invite them to enter our society as the best-educated adults in the world. This ability is the source of our greatness.

  However, the stark reality is that so many of our schools fail year after year to offer an effective and equitable level of education to children living in poverty. We can do better to educate all of our students, and need to start in our classrooms.

  Teacher Tools

  1. Resources and Barriers Chart

  The vast majority of the students at my school live in poverty. Most have basic needs that are not being met, which leads to significant obstacles to academic success. But we limit the power of a school when the negatives are all we see. Too often our students, especially students living in poverty, come to school with resources we take for granted.

  As educators, when we start recognizing things like joy, energy, and curiosity as resources and usable skills, we can leverage them in our classrooms. This is not just a fluffy teacher way of thinking. It’s real. Think about how much energy and money adults spend trying to get a taste of the joy a kindergarten student experiences simply by rolling down a hill.

  Acknowledging that these attributes are real and valuable is one way to help honor the resources students come to school with. The book Building Communities from the Inside Out, by John P. Kretzmann and John L. McKnight, presents the theory that effective community development efforts are based on understanding and utilizing the community’s assets, capacities, and abilities. Kretzmann and McKnight comment, “The unique energy and creativity of youth is often denied to the community because the young people of the neighborhood are all too often viewed only in terms of their lack of maturity and practical life experience.”

  Honoring all the resources our students bring, including their own disposition, strength of character, ambition, and enthusiasm, can help every student feel like an integral part of their classroom community. We can then mobilize and connect the resources our communities have in order to improve the community as a whole.

  I witnessed my students’ ability to inspire and provoke a conversation about realities in our education system through their simple “I wish my teacher knew” notes. Their words, not mine, reached all corners of the globe, proving that even eight-year-olds possess tremendous reserves of honesty and insight that can make a measurable impact.

  Most teachers I know think in terms of strengths and needs. We ask, “What strengths does she have in math?” and “What is his greatest need in reading?” It is important to know the skills a student already possesses and, on the flip side, the academic gaps a student displays. We need to know where students need support. This type of analysis is certainly useful and necessary, but it is also helpful to think in terms of the resources and barriers that exist. This can be as simple as creating a “T-chart,” and can be done for an individual student, a group of students, or a whole community. A chart might look like this:

  As you can see in this example, thinking creatively in terms of what constitutes a resource can help us see the wealth students already possess. All students bring positive traits and skills to the classroom. Students who live in poverty are no different.

  The student in the above analysis might complain when things are “unfair.” A teacher can use this natural instinct to motivate him academically by focusing on studying powerful leaders who stood up when things were unfair, or by helping explore social issues that matter to him.

  In my class we did just that. During a unit on biographies, my students realized there were no holidays that celebrated women. “That’s not fair!” they protested. I harnessed this feeling. Our class embarked on a research project. They chose to study Molly Brown, a local hero who survived the sinking of the Titanic and who was an early advocate for the rights of women, children, and laborers. My students wrote persuasive essays and successfully lobbied our principal to declare an official “Unsinkable Molly Brown Day” at our school.

  Instead of dismissing my students’ complaints, I leveraged their intolerance of injustice a second time when I invited all the girls to eat lunch in the classroom because there were issues with gossiping that needed to be addressed. The boys called me out. “That is not fair!” they accused with genuine and loud frustration. “It is not fair to treat people differently just because they are a boy or a girl.” One student was actually screaming at me. I could have punished him for yelling, but I ended up conceding the point and invited the boys to eat lunch in the classroom the next day.

  At my students’ insistence, our class started both a “Gentleman’s Lunch” and “Ladies’ Lunch” program. Once a month, students who turn in their homework are rewarded with the opportunity to have lunch in their classroom with members from the community who act as role models and mentors. Our girls have had lunch with accountants and computer programmers, and our boys have eaten lunch with architects and financial managers. Since I was able to see their interest in equality as a resource, my students inspired a program that will leave a legacy at our school and contribute in meaningful ways to all the classes that follow theirs.

  Acknowledging the resources our students come to school with is essential to empowering them to find success. Equally important is looking at the barriers they encounter as they come through our doors each day. Instead of thinking, “That kid never turns in homework,” we should ask what the source of this issue is. With some conversation and investigation, a teacher can spot the source of the struggle and help the child solve the problem.

  We cannot go home with our students and sit them down and force them to do a math worksheet, but we can help them understand the best time to start their homework, identify a good place to study, and seek out family and neighbors able to support them.

  I encourage you to create a resource and barrier analysis for your students and your school as a whole. Then ask a simple question: “How can we use each student’s gifts to help our school?” Next, ask yourself, “What can the school do to tear down some of the barriers that exist?” Each child and each school community will have different resources to build on and different barriers to address, but thinking along these lines will help start a conversation, which will empower your students.

  2. Food Drawers and Coat Closets

  I am proud to work at a school that is proactive in addressing food insecurity as an academic issue. As a part of our school’s fight against hunger, a grant program has made it possible to provide our students with a real fruit snack each day. Our students come to count on this. “Miss, is it time for the nectarines?” is music to my ears. Additionally, our school participates in a program called Totes of Hope. Each week volunteers pick up canned food from the Food Bank of the Rockies and pack tote bags full of food to send home to fifty families who have expressed a need for food. These steps help bridge the gap for students.

  Even with all these procedures in place, I still have students who have immediate food needs. I have a simple solution to address this: a food drawer. In my first year, I publicly passed out granola bars when children complained of rumbling tummies or fatigue. That was until one student, Jimmi, threw it back at me and said, “I don’t need this, leave me alone.” I realized that he was indeed hungry, but by placing a granola bar on his desk, I had effectively announced to the class that he did not have enough food at home. This is another example of my good intentions missing the mark of meeting a student’s needs. Not having access to food is never a child’s fault, but it does cause real feelings of embarrassment and shame. Jimmi taught me that if I wanted to address issues of hunger in my classroom, I needed to
take a different approach.

  I started a food drawer. I keep it stocked with snacks I buy myself or friends and family donate. I let my students know they can take what they need, no questions asked. My students are stealthy about it and grab food without my even noticing. This allows students to eat in class or even to sneak into the bathroom and eat secretly. Sometimes they eat a granola bar at recess and say they brought it from home; other times they take graham crackers home in their backpacks.

  There are many iterations of the food drawer. Some programs, such as Feeding America’s Food Pantry Program, complement their FRL meal programs with convenient food pantries located on-site at schools. I know one high school principal who hosted what he called the Peanut Butter Club that consisted of a few loaves of bread and jars of peanut butter and jelly that students could help themselves to when they needed it.

  There are millions of teachers who have stepped in and fed hungry students, a fact that makes me proud of my profession. We truly are first responders. Many teachers ensure that food is available for their students when they need it, because a hungry student is not a student who can learn at his or her best.

  Similarly, a freezing cold child cannot play. In Colorado, it gets cold. On the coldest days, when teachers and students alike lament that a snow day was not given, some of my students come to school in inadequate clothing, wearing sandals to walk through the snow or a thin sweatshirt in bitter cold. Our school has a coat closet, or rather several cardboard boxes shoved under a table, to respond to this need. We get these coats in many ways. Our local news affiliate, 7News, sponsors a citywide coat drive every year. Other times, neighborhood churches or families donate jackets. In 2015, complete strangers donated forty-two winter jackets to our students through a request I made on DonorsChoose.org.