One year in a school: Parents play pivotal role

This is the fourth day of a seven-day series that chronicles the lives of fourth graders in a classroom at Helen Jydstrup Elementary School. Reporter Benjamin Grove closely followed the class during the first three months of this school year and has monitored the students' progress since then. The Sun changed the names of the students, their teacher and substitute teachers to protect the children's identities. Names of other teachers are real.

Today teacher John Pendry welcomes the parents of his students to the school.

Thursday, Sept. 24, 1998

Parent's Night. Jydstrup holds Parent's Nights throughout the year. The school has too many children to have all the students and their parents at school on one night.

Several hundred parents and their children pack the multi-purpose room for a few announcements.

Principal Nadine Nielsen introduces the teachers, assembled on the stage, and then they go to their classrooms. Parents follow.

In Pendry's room, the class fills up quickly. Many parents have come. They look around the room somewhat awkwardly.

The room gets louder and louder as it fills.

"It's going to be harder to get them to listen than the kids," Pendry mutters, joking.

He introduces himself, using his full name.

A few pupils snicker.

"Anyone over 5 feet tall can call me by my first name," Pendry says. "Everyone else, it's 'Mr. Pendry.' "

The teacher goes through some of the features of the class. He tells them about the classroom currency system. He hits on a few of the topics students will be learning, such as the Nevada lessons in social studies. He explains that he is hoarding students' assignments, telling them that he never sends much home during the first month of school while he is figuring out the ability levels of each student.

He explains the Buffalo Bills homework agreement. (If the Bills win on Sundays, he doesn't give homework on Monday night. Pendry, who went to college in Buffalo, is an avid Bills fan.)

Pendry explains the class moves into a different classroom every three weeks.

The parents get antsy and loud, so he wraps it up, explaining about the classroom snake, Gizmo. Surprisingly, he tells them the story about the last snake he had, a boa, that bit a pupil last year.

He assures the parents the California king snake is not as aggressive. Finally, Pendry thanks them for coming.

How's my kid?

The assualt begins. Every parent wants to talk to him individually. He makes his way through the crowd.

Meanwhile, students show their parents their desks, but don't really give them a tour of the room. It's not their room, and the displays and work posted on the walls are not theirs.

They look at the snake, then wait for Pendry. All the parents want to know how their child is doing. It's awkward for the teacher.

"You don't want to tell them their kid is horrible right there in front of other parents, so I just say they talk a lot or they don't pay attention enough," Pendry says later.

One-on-one parent conferences are held in November, so parents can talk with Pendry at length and in private about their children. But "How is my kid doing?" is the natural topic of conversation, so Pendry tries to be honest, without embarrassing anyone.

He tells Ray's parents that the boy is "a good kid." But he adds, "He talks a lot. It's not malicious, some kids will talk back, they talk just to bug me. Ray doesn't even know he's talking sometimes."

Ray's dad, a large man with a blond beard, has a tattoo of Ray's face on his arm, the size of a coaster.

Pendry tells Nasser's dad about the note Nasser forged to get out of homework several weeks ago. Nasser obviously wrote the note, even though he said his mother wrote it. Nasser eventually admitted that he wrote the note, but said his mother asked him to write it.

At the time, Pendry didn't know if Nasser's mother could write in English, so he accepted the excuse. He had told the boy, "The next time you forge a note, write neater. This is not your best handwriting."

Since then, Nasser's mother has explained to Pendry that she is fluent in several languages, including English.

Now here at Parent's Night, Nasser's dad seems proud of his son for pushing one over on the teacher. He also thanks Pendry, however, with a sincere "Thanks for all your patience," and a hearty handshake. Nasser poses for a photo with his teacher.

Pendry continues to make his way from parent to parent. He has glowing praise for the parents of Lily and Gwen, both shy, studious pupils who barely make a peep in class.

Pendry takes both hands around Lily's face and says, "I wish I had 36 of these." Her older sister -- tonight's "parent" -- beams.

By 8 p.m. there are just a few parents left. Shannon R., the girl Pendry sometimes calls Donut, and her mom, have lingered. Pendry knows the mother because she comes to class from time to time.

Pendry tells her that Shannon has some trouble reading. She can sound out words but doesn't always read for comprehension. The girl's mother agrees.

Pendry tells her mother that he will give her a reading list of books to challenge Shannon.

Finally, the teachers start to clear out of the school and a dozen of them regroup at Magoo's, a dark bar on Tropicana Avenue that serves as the hangout for teachers after school on Fridays. The teachers sip beers. Principal Nielsen always buys.

Talking shop

It's a far more relaxed atmosphere than school. The educators immediately begin swapping tales about their week. Pendry reluctantly tells one about Amal.

"You know I don't like to tell school stories here," he says to another teacher.

Amal's mom was the one conspicuous absence from parent's night. She had shown up earlier in the day at school. Pendry was summoned to the office during the school day, where Amal's mom was waiting, absolutely steamed.

She lit into Pendry immediately when he asked about whether Amal was taking medication to control his behavior. He's not.

"Fine, I'll take him to the f-----g doctor!" she had screamed.

Pendry had remained patient, he says.

"I called her ma'am," he recalls.

The woman was upset because in the last week or so, Nielsen had sent Amal home four times. The mother said she had had it with school and was frustrated that they weren't dealing with her son.

She said Amal behaved the same way on his medication as he did off.

Teachers who have had Amal in past years tell a different story. They say the boy has been focused and learns more easily when he takes medication.

Under Nielsen's orders, Pendry lately has been sending Amal to the principal more often, rather than trying to deal with the disruptive boy in a classroom full of students.

His mother was incensed and swore to get Amal back on medication.

"That's fine," Pendry had told her, remaining calm. "Whatever I can do to help him."

Pendry also talks about some of the children of Las Vegas, children of exotic dancers and blackjack dealers, who filter into his classroom every day.

Pendry says he had several children of exotic dancers last year. He has one this year.

"She's really looking for someone to be a positive male role model for (her son)," Pendry says. "She could go out with any guy -- guys who want to mess around with her. But would they stay to look after (her child)?"

Pendry and the other teacher discuss how, by fourth grade, the children of dancers are well aware of what their mothers do for a living.

"He knows she goes off to work every day with a bag full of G-strings," Pendry says.

Pendry also talks about his brightest students.

"Sometimes I'm driving home and I think, 'I didn't talk to Molly or Gwen one time today' -- and not because they weren't there. They are just quiet. They get their work done. It makes me feel terrible. How can I give them all the attention they need?"

Thursday, Oct. 1, 1998

In the war against bad grammar in Pendry's room, there is bad news from the spelling front.

Only four students of 36 got all their spelling words right on a test that featured words the students had been tested on before. Pendry's battle plan for today: spelling bee.

The whole class is lined up on the east wall of the room. Pendry is the firing squad, blasting words at them. He mows about a third of them down in the first round.

Soon five remain. Pendry goes to next week's list. The five pupils, all girls, squirm.

Michelle bombs on the first word. Nervous and flustered, she misspells shadow. S-H-O-W-O-D-W.

"No fair -- those are next week's words," she protests, as she walks to her desk.

The others look scared.

Hannah turns pale, but gets "finest" right. Jennifer goes down misspelling meadow. M-E-D-O-W. Holly also misspells her word.

Hannah and Molly remain in a showdown of arguably the brightest students in class. Hannah misses "banana," leaving out the middle A.

Molly has to get "invention" right to win. She does, smiling widely.

Art class

Time for art, where students are studying the human face.

The art teacher tells them there are 22 muscles in the face. The students seem impressed with the slides the teacher shows of the skull. They finger their eye sockets.

The art teacher shows them some famous portraits: the Mona Lisa, George Washington. Mona is famous partly because it took da Vinci so long and because of controversy surrounding whether he used several models, the teacher tells the class.

"You've done portraits for the last four years," the teacher says. "This year, I want you to get an idea about proportion and the composition of the face. I don't want arms coming out of heads."

Amal is talking a lot out of turn and distracting other students enough that he finally gets sent to the hall. Ramon is banished to a corner of the room for similar offenses.

The teacher throws Darius out of class for throwing a whiteboard marker at him.

With 18 minutes left in class, students start drawing their own self-portraits. They share hand-held mirrors because there are not enough to go around.

Most have trouble drawing an even, round head. Rachel's oval eventually begins to resemble her likeness. The art teacher compliments her. She smiles. With that, art class draws to a close.

Pendry returns to fetch his students as class ends.

"I really earn my money on Thursday," the art teacher tells Pendry, referring to the class troublemakers.

Pendry shepherds the students back into the room and immediately starts in on a lesson about possessives, singular vs. plural.

Distracted pupil

Ray is entirely uninterested in the assignment Pendry makes: Write five sentences given in the textbook, making possessive corrections. Ray sits and talks to classmates.

"Ray, did you know that if your pencil moved as much as your mouth, you would be done?" Pendry asks the boy.

Ray smiles, but doesn't start the assignment for several more minutes.

A few minutes before lunch, Pendry catches Roberto H. with what looks like matches or some kind of firework, it's not clear.

Roberto also had two ketchup packets. "What are these for?" Pendry asks, as he pitches them in the trash.

Several of the boys giggle. Teachers know ketchup ends up in bad places.

At lunch, students sit in small groups on the grass outside, or at tables set up on the blacktop. Some classes eat indoors.

Many children gobble their food, ripping buns off bologna sandwiches and inhaling the meat, gulping milk.

For some, two minutes after lunch starts, it's over.

Maria and some of the girls in Pendry's class enjoy a more leisurely pace. Maria nibbles at two tacos -- the lunch menu item of the day. She finally eats half of one. She sits on the grass, just outside the circle created by Elena, Rachel and Teresa Lee.

The other girls munch on Lunchables and tuna in a can, spread on crackers. They suck on drink box straws. Rachel offers up her apple. No takers.

Roberto L. joins a game that is supposedly banned on the playground: war. It's basically six boys, three on each team, tackling each other.

Richard is wearing an orange shoulder belt that signifies he is a "peer mediator" on the playground.

He is on call to settle playground disputes. Teachers have taught some students to be peer mediators to help cut down on scuffles on the crowded playground.

"I ask them why they are fighting," Richard explains. "If they keep fighting, I go get an adult so they can handle it."

The bell rings, and students run to line up. Teresa Lee is relieved. All through recess she has been babbling about every ailment that ever plagued her. Now she believes she is breaking out in a rash, although there is nothing visible.

"I was starting to get all scratchy from the grass. It's really bad. It will happen to you someday. It happens to everyone."

Friday, Oct. 2, 1998

The second move to another classroom is over in less than half an hour.

"We've got it down like clockwork now," Pendry says.

Students quickly clean out their desks and haul the few scraps of class belongings -- including Gizmo the snake -- to the room just one door down the hall.

The teacher in that room and her students today begin a three-week vacation.

That teacher agrees to take both classes for games for the rest of the day while Pendry sits alone to write out lesson plans for his substitutes next week.

"I write everything out in longhand," Pendry says. "I try to make it as fool-proof as possible."

Pendry will be shadowing a principal at C.C. Ronnow Elementary Monday and Tuesday as part of his principal in training program. (Pendry hopes to become an assistant principal beginning next school year.)

Pendry is also supervising Ray and Roberto because they were misbehaving in the other room.

Pendry says he doesn't like to warn substitutes about certain students with behavior problems.

"Let them find out on their own," Pendry says. "They'll learn soon enough. I mean, give the kid a chance to be good. Give them a fighting shot."

Several minutes pass.

Pendry looks up from his lesson plans and glares at Roberto and Ray. They seem to be hatching some plan at their table.

"I am out way too much this year," Pendry says.

Wednesday, Oct. 14, 1998

Another substitute. This time, it's a muscular martial arts instructor, who just found out that he has been hired as Jydstrup's sixth fourth grade teacher. The school is creating another fourth grade in a few days because the current classes have so many students.

District officials decide after "Count Day" -- the 20th day of school -- whether schools need to add or subtract teachers based on class size.

Crowded Jydstrup is getting three new teachers.

To create a new fourth grade, six or eight students from each existing class are sent to the new class.

That means tearing kids out of the rooms they are used to, so it's always an emotional process. Parents often object to their children switching teachers.

Students are chosen to move based on whether they have siblings on their current "track" schedule.

Pendry is at school today teaching new teachers in a "classroom management" seminar, not teaching his students.

During a break, Pendry cradles six letters in his hands. There is one each for the parents of Elizabeth, Roberto L., Cheyenne, Darius, Jennifer and Jorge. The notes inform parents that after eight weeks of school, their children are going to be transferred to another teacher.

The children know the class will be broken up. They don't know who is getting moved.

When they get the letters from Pendry today at the end of class, they'll have a pretty good idea. Pendry dreads it.

"It's brutal," Pendry says, fingering the letters. "I feel like the executioner handing these out. This is going to be just horrible."

He takes his concern to principal Nielsen.

"No matter what I say, how I explain it, they are going to think that it was me who didn't want them in class anymore," Pendry tells his boss.

Nielsen quickly agrees to be the bad guy and tell the children herself.

Teaching teachers

Pendry is still frustrated about missing so much teaching time. In the first eight weeks of school, he has missed an equivalent of two weeks, all due to teaching seminars.

The teaching-other-teachers experience will make him a more attractive candidate in the principal's pool.

Back in one of the seminars, Pendry is leading groups of teachers in 50-minute sessions about classroom management, which is the No. 1 concern of new teachers, Pendry says.

He tells the 12 first-year teachers about a strategy that involves determining why each pupil acts out. In simple terms, it's because of four reasons, according to one theory: seeking attention, seeking revenge against the teacher, avoiding failure by ignoring work in favor of acting the class clown and waging an ongoing power struggle with the teacher.

"Of course, what you would like to do is just explode on them," Pendry tells the rookie teachers. "But it's more productive to first figure out why the kid is misbehaving, then deal with it accordingly."

In the library

Today was library day for Pendry's students. They have library, art, computer lab and music once a week for 50 minutes.

In the library, the librarian reads aloud from a book about Russell, a fourth grader who buys a magic ring that turns him into a monster.

When she finishes, she lets them check out a new book. She knows the pupils from past years. She is well acquainted with Amal, who today tells her that "Roberto said he was going to poop on your head."

The librarian barely acknowledges the comment. Later she describes Pendry's bunch as the "worst class in school."

"It's a very complex class," she says. "The other classes -- they listen, they contribute. But this class, there's four or five. It goes back to the parents. Darius is smart, but he's been too loose too long. He's wasting it."

Student vanishes

The librarian points out that several students have come and gone from Pendry's class recently.

Last week LeAnthony disappeared.

"LeAnthony moved to Alabama or someplace," Pendry says matter-of-factly. "He never said good-bye. His grandma or uncle or somebody called the school and said he wasn't coming back anymore."

Within a day, Armand, a chubby, quiet boy from a school across town, shows up at Jydstrup. Pendry talks with his teacher from last year.

"She said he was 'as slow as cold tar,"' Pendry says, chuckling a little. "I said, 'So, he's not quite up to grade level, then?'

"I cleaned out LeAnthony's desk and gave it to Armand. No tears. No ceremony. Seventy-two percent transiency -- you get used to it. I've been lucky this year -- I haven't lost more than one."

Pendry continues to struggle with Amal. Amal's mother told Pendry she found a doctor to diagnose Amal as having behavior -- but not medical -- problems.

Pendry told the woman that if it was a behavior problem, then the school would treat it as such. Every time Amal acts up now, they call home. That has made Amal's mother frustrated, since principal Nielsen has sent him home several times now. Amal's mother wants the school to deal with her son, without medication.

"It's almost like a chess match and she is playing against us," Pendry says, shaking his head. "I don't know what is going to happen next. It's her move."

Pendry says Amal probably would learn more if he were taking medication to help him focus. He could have passed Amal to the newly created fourth grade class but did not.

"I don't want to give up on the kid," Pendry says. "If he gets moved, he has to start all over with someone else."

TerraNova test

Pendry is on a break later as he talks about the standardized TerraNova test, which students took today with the substitute. Students take a section or two of the test each day over several weeks.

Teachers use the test to measure what their students know and to look for weaknesses in certain areas.

Lawmakers use the test to hold teachers and principals accountable for whatever students learn.

In 1997 the Legislature agreed to label schools as inadequate if 40 percent or more of students at a school scored in the bottom 25 percent of students who took the test nationwide.

In Clark County, 13 schools were labeled inadequate last year; five this year. The rest of the county's elementary schools, including Jydstrup, fell in the "adequate" range.

Pendry has spent the first few weeks of school trying to prepare students for the test.

The boardwork problems his students do every day are the same types of problems on the tests. Pendry knows what types of problems would be on the tests from years past.

So he has been giving them huge doses of TerraNova-type problems.

Still, the students can never be fully prepared. For instance, the TerraNova tests the fourth graders on multiple-digit division, which they have never seen and few can conceptualize. Some students don't yet know their multiplication tables, much less long division. It will be several months before they cover that in class.

Pendry also voices the common lament among teachers: The test is given in the fall, not spring. A spring test would test students on what they had actually learned in fourth grade, Pendry says.

"This shows what they know from kindergarten through third grade," Pendry says. "But the headlines say, here it is, here is what the fourth graders know."

THURSDAY: Pendry reflects on what his children are learning and the sometimes harried routine they endure.

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