A FLOWER FOR ANGELA
BY
SANDRA LEESMITH
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real.
A FLOWER FOR ANGELA. Copyright © 2002, 2014 by Sandra Lee Smith. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or produced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, email the author using the Contact Form on her website: www.sandraleesmith.com
DEDICATION
To my mother, Bettelee Wardman, whose creativity and patience inspired my teaching and my writing. She spent many hours volunteering with my students and even more hours helping me to write.
PRAISE FOR A FLOWER FOR ANGELA
“Sandra understands adults and their passions, understands children, understands schooling, and understands how children learn. A Flower for Angela is a flower for the entire teaching profession.”
Stephen Krashen, University of Southern California
“A Flower for Angela provides an inspirational companion for all those who have undertaken a cause—be it political or personal—and fought for what they believe in. In this wonderful book, Leesmith demonstrates how passion and commitment can drive the human spirit forward and empower others to do the same.”
Karen Smith, Arizona State University
“In the 1980’s, while still at college, I worked part time as an aide for a teacher who bucked the system to implement the new whole language program in her class. I saw firsthand what astonishing progress the students made, how they learned to think for themselves and to utilize new knowledge at a rate that placed them far above grade level. Not only is A Flower for Angela a lovely little romance, it is a reminder that we need to bring the whole language program back into focus in our schools today.”
Shari Broyer, Author ~ Jesus on a Park Bench
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A mi amiga, Olga Adame, quien me
enseño la verdadera cultura del barrio.
And to my dear friends and mentors, Barbara Flores, Ph.D. and Karen Smith, who taught me how to teach.
Cover art painted by the author’s father, John Wardman.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
Find Other Books by Sandra Leesmith
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
Phoenix, Arizona 1985
"WHAT TIME DID I SAY he was coming?" For the umpteenth time that morning, Angela Stuart nervously pushed a loose strand of her blond hair away from her face.
"Nine o'clock." Maria, her close friend who had team taught with her for years, sighed with impatience. "Why are you so nervous? Nearly every week you have visitors in your classroom, and usually you're so composed."
"This isn't the same." Angela took a deep breath, trying to settle the butterflies in her stomach. "They come to observe how I teach. Ricardo de la Cruz is coming to criticize."
"So?" Maria waved her hands. "You've never let a little criticism bother you before."
"I'm really concerned this time, though, that I won't be able to defend the program against his criticism—no matter what I say—because I've heard he's dead set against it.” Angela walked over to her desk and again straightened the stack of first graders' papers. “The whole language program puts people off at first because it is so different from the older, more structured methods. Yet, once people understand the theory and witness the fantastic effects on students' motivation and progress, they're very supportive."
"Don't you think de la Cruz is going to recognize these things?" Maria asked.
"It takes time to understand. At first glance the classroom looks chaotic. What if that's all he sees? What if he doesn't look below the surface?"
"You're worrying needlessly. What can he do?"
"But Ricardo de la Cruz can affect my program...my job even." Angela paused.
Although no longer on the board of the Valley of the Sun District School Board, Ricardo’s reputation as a star television news reporter, gave him considerable power and influence. His strong interest in Phoenix's education policy was renowned. He made a point of being involved—by sitting on school boards and regularly covering stories on education.
Of course, his charismatic personality also contributed to high visibility. Angela had watched him perform—yes, “perform” was the word to use—at the board meetings, where he exhibited the same intelligence, drive and fervor that made him such a popular reporter.
"Since he's no longer on the board, what can he do?" Maria asked.
"He's an investigative reporter. What if he digs up facts about my past?"
The district school board knew about her first teaching job and why she'd left, but the thought of the scandal being splashed across the television screen made her stomach quiver.
"You know for a fact that even teachers who've observed the approach being used in a classroom still don't believe that first-graders can read books, research and write their own stories. They're skeptical because of the radical changes in thinking they'd have to undergo."
"You mean Lupe Cartagena and Cathy Jones."
"Exactly."
Those two teachers were so sure the traditional way was right that they refused to even consider trying the whole language approach, and there was a very real possibility that Ricardo de la Cruz would respond the same way.
"He's relentless, Maria. If he decides he doesn't like the way I teach, he'll make it very difficult for me."
"He's only here as an interested resident and tax-payer. He has a right to observe what's going on.” Maria picked a loose thread from Angela’s collar.
"But why my room? Why not yours or Mike Garrett's?"
"You handle visitors and explain the whole language approach better than we do. The way you relate the learning of reading and writing to how we learn to speak makes so much sense."
"The process is so powerful. Everyone has the ability to communicate, no matter what language or culture they're born into. If you teach reading and writing the same way you teach your child to talk, every child will succeed."
"See what I mean?" Maria flung her hands in the air.
Angela tucked in the strand of hair that started to fall from her chignon. "I suppose you're right. I'm just edgy—you should have seen how Mrs. Edwards summoned me to the office and told me he was coming to check me out."
"When he sees what a great teacher you are, there'll be no question about your job,” Confidence showed in Maria’s dark eyes. "This isn't Yuma. You aren't going to be fired like you were there."
Angela shuddered at the memory. "You don't want to imagine what it's like to be ostracized like that."
"Like you always tell me—think positive. Besides, you have the backing of the professors from A.S.U."
"That won't do me any good. You know what the administrators think of them.” The Arizona State University professors she worked with were internationally renowned in their field, but that didn't impress her district office personnel. "They think Dr. Wheeler and the others are only after research data—not the improvement of schools."
"That's because of what's happened in the
past. Seven years ago, another team from A.S.U. came to our school, used the kids as guinea pigs and then left. We never heard from them again. No results—no conclusions."
"But that's not the case with us. Our findings are changing education. Look at all the successful teacher workshops we've held. We keep getting requests from other states to share our findings. If de la Cruz gives our project the axe, we lose all our credibility."
"You're getting upset about something that hasn't happened," Maria pointed out. "Prove to him your methods are effective. He's known for his honesty."
"You're right." Angela paced and stopped in front of a brightly-colored display of her pupils’ work. Stories and pictures about each of their families were mounted on the wall. She read their descriptions and felt a measure of confidence return. Her students excelled because of her implementation of the whole language program. Nothing could refute that fact. If Ricardo de la Cruz tried to discredit her teaching, she would fight back.
"I'll be fine." Angela braced her shoulders.
"Atta girl!" Maria laughed, relief showing in her face. "The bell's going to ring in a few minutes. I'll go pick up the kids."
Angela watched Maria disappear down the corridor toward the playground. A noise from the connecting door to Maria's classroom caught her attention. She turned and stared.
Ricardo de la Cruz stood in the doorway. Wavy brown hair set off chiseled Hispanic features. Black eyes flashed with self-confidence and challenge.
"Morning.” His voice echoed in the empty classroom.
Before Angela could respond, she heard a mumble and movement behind the tall reporter. He shifted slightly, letting the principal, Mrs. Edwards, bustle into the room.
"Mr. de la Cruz,” Mrs. Edwards trilled in her high-pitched voice. "This is Miss Stuart, the teacher of our first grade bilingual class."
It amused Angela to see Pamela Edwards, an active member of several legislative committees, in the same flustered state as herself. De la Cruz strolled toward Angela and every nerve flashed a red alert.
"We've never been formally introduced, but I've seen you at the board meetings,” he said with a smile, then greeted her formally. "Con mucho gusto, profesora."
Angela took his outstretched hand and tried to speak. The Spanish she'd studied so hard jammed in her throat. She could only focus on the sensations racing through her fingertips.
He broke the silence. "Why thank you, I'd be glad to make myself at home in your classroom."
Angela glanced into his eyes and noted the amusement lurking there. The nerve of the man! How dare he come to criticize and then laugh at her anxious state? Angela quickly shifted into gear.
"I know why you're here, Mr. de la Cruz." Good. She sounded assertive. It would help her cause. “All I ask is that you keep an open mind and carefully observe the performance of my students."
"I came to observe you."
"By observing the students' performance, you'll be able to judge my effectiveness,” she countered.
"It's difficult to understand how a teacher who doesn't use text books, who doesn't maintain an orderly classroom and—" he paused to look meaningfully around the room, "—doesn't follow prescribed teaching methods can be effective."
Angela’s heart sank. Apparently, he'd already made up his mind. Just then, the door opened and students filed in with eager smiles of greetings. Angela saw their expressions change to wary regard upon spying Ricardo de la Cruz, and her defenses rose. The children responded intuitively to any new situation and sensed the tension between their teacher and this stranger. She wouldn't allow that—even if he was a reporter.
"We'll discuss this later.” She moved past him to greet her class. "For now, please simply observe."
He bowed slightly. She proceeded with the morning routine while her mind focused on her visitor. Mrs. Edwards guided him around the room and explained, no doubt, what all of the unusual exhibits consisted of. She hoped he'd be astute enough to recognize the educational implications of what he saw.
Ricardo stared at the classwork, but he didn't see it. His attention focused on Angela Stuart. All of a sudden he hated this self-imposed assignment. He wanted out of it. But that would be shirking his responsibilities, and in his thirty-two years, he'd never done that. But here he stood—wanting to turn around and walk out of this room.
Why? He knew the answer. Angela Stuart intrigued him—and not for the first time, either. With each board meeting she attended, she had distracted him more and more. Not just her beauty, but her warmth and intelligence. He shifted away from the wall and glanced at her. She stared back with a hint of challenge.
He looked away. After he finished this investigation, she might not give him the time of day, let alone allow him close.
He eased his way around the desks as he followed Mrs. Edwards to another display. He recalled the anonymous letters he'd received:
Angela Stuart, a teacher in the district for the past five years, is incompetent.
Angela Stuart does not teach her students. She never uses district textbooks or other standard methods of teaching.
Angela Stuart's classroom is out of control—the students run wild.
No longer a member of the school board, he nevertheless attended meetings and stayed actively involved. When the letters had arrived, he'd felt compelled to check up on the reasons for them. Now, he wished he'd dumped the problem in someone else's lap.
He shook his head. The accusations didn't seem to fit the woman he saw in front of this class. But if she proved incompetent, she'd be out.
"What a pity,” he murmured aloud as he listened to her clear soprano. She led the class in singing America, her voice mingling with those of her students.
"I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Edwards piped up beside him “What’s a pity?”
"She sings well,” he said, ignoring the principal’s outburst.
"She puts on a wonderful program every spring. The parents look forward to it."
Ricardo nodded, focusing his attention on Angela.
"She does a lot with the parents," the principal continued. "She holds workshops every week and instructs them on how to teach their children at home."
"All her efforts and enthusiasm are highly commendable. However, I still question her teaching methods." Ricardo rocked back on his heels and studied Mrs. Edwards. Angela certainly had the woman's support and apparently that of some of the parents.
He could see why. She charmed with that smile. The letters he had received said her class was unruly, but watching her with her students, he had to admit, she had them in the palm of her hand. But not him. You had to be tough to travel the road from poverty to news reporter for KSTR. No, her charm wouldn't sway him. The evidence—and only the evidence—would be considered if he had to recommend she be relieved of her teaching position.
The classroom door opened with a swish and a small boy entered and ran over to Angela's side. His black hair fell forward, covering his eyes as he apologized in rapid-fire Spanish for being late.
"Está bien. It's all right, Juan." Angela smiled and gently brushed back his hair.
The boy held out his hand. Ricardo could see the pride in his face as he offered a flower to Angela. But when Juan saw its broken stem and wilted petals, he looked crushed. Ricardo wanted to reach out to the child, but Angela did, instead. She accepted the gift as if it were the greatest treasure on earth.
"Gracias. Thank you,” she murmured as she draped her arm across his shoulders to give him a quick hug.
Ricardo's heart filled with emotion. Caramba. He silently swore. This woman's compassion distracted him from his job. If she was an incompetent teacher—then he would prove it. Wasn't that why he'd run for the school board five years ago? To make Valley of the Sun District one of the best in the state? And if that meant firing teachers, he'd see to it. The fact he was no longer a board member wouldn't deter him in the least. Board members still valued his opinions, and if need be, they would seriously evaluate any report he gave
them on Angela Stuart's teaching methods.
Ricardo positioned himself on the corner of a table, recalling the poor excuse for a school he'd attended in the barrio of East Los Angeles. He welcomed the anger that simmered as he remembered his difficult youth. It helped to remind him of his purpose. The students in this district would have quality education. Living in a barrio in the inner city wouldn't be a handicap to them as it had been for him.
"We have a special visitor today, class. Mr. de la Cruz has come to see what good students you are."
Clever psychology, he thought as he waved a greeting to the eager students. Some of them clearly itched to show off their skills.
"What languages do you speak, Mr. de la Cruz?" Angela surprised him by asking.
"English, of course,” he hesitated, "and Spanish."
To his amazement, the students clapped their hands. "He's bilingual like us, teacher.”
As he scanned their faces, Ricardo saw the children's pride in their heritage and language. Was she responsible? It seemed unlikely. What would she know about Chicano pride?
"Since he understands both languages, you may read your stories to him in Spanish or in English,” she went on to direct her students.
What did that mean? Surely she wasn't going to have him lead the reading groups. He could've saved himself the worry. As soon as she reminded the students that they were all at school to work and learn, they stood and hurried to various workstations in the room. Ricardo stepped back from the onslaught of running children.
Shocked, he looked over to the principal and then at Angela. Neither one seemed the least bit concerned. The letters were correct. She has no control of the class.
Didn't she care? Why didn't she do something? He wanted to walk over and shake her—to tell her to manage her class so that he wouldn't have to turn in a negative report.
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