Our kids can’t pass Algebra 2. You’re setting them up to fail. 

~President, East Side Teachers Association

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After sharing the idea of an A-G graduation requirement with the superintendent and several principals, the next, and perhaps most important, step was to meet with the president of the East Side Teachers Association (ESTA) to share my plans for student achievement and seek ESTA’s support for A-G. We met at a beloved breakfast spot in the Evergreen neighborhood within the ESUHSD boundaries. It was an old-fashioned cafe with booths lining the perimeter and tables occupying the center. The smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes filled the air.

Over breakfast, we chatted amiably and caught up on issues important to teachers. When I summarized my plans for an A-G graduation policy, the president sat silently, looking skeptical. The president asked pointed questions. Why? Does the district have the resources? Are other board members in support? The president was concerned that the ESTA board and membership would not likely support my proposal.

“In theory it’s a great idea, and we all want kids to be successful,” ESTA’s leader told the Mercury News. “But we don’t have room to add more chem labs. There’s no funding for new textbooks. How do we get junior highs to raise the bar to prepare students for ninth grade?” ESTA supported the last assertion with data. Forty percent of ninth-graders fail Algebra I, the first class in the college-prep math sequence.

By 2010, just a handful of school districts had policies that required students to take an A-G curriculum. San Jose Unified and Los Angeles Unified were leaders in that space. A-G was not on the radar for most school districts in California. The California Teachers Association (CTA) had not taken a position on the issue. The CTA focused its advocacy on higher teacher pay, smaller class size, more training support, and additional classroom resources. Calmly sipping coffee, I speculated CTA principles were driving the ESTA president’s reluctance about A-G.

With that in mind, I offered to partner with ESTA to advocate for and secure resources to provide teachers with the tools to help students succeed. The president persisted against the idea. The proposal would be hugely unpopular with teachers. The challenge for the president would be to prevent some ESTA leaders from publicly opposing the initiative. Understanding that subtle threat should have been a signal for me to stop pursuing an A-G policy proposal. 

Undeterred, I made a second attempt at persuasion by appealing to our commonalities. We were both ESUHSD students of color who went on to succeed in college and in our respective careers. “If we were able to do it, my rationale began …” ESTA’s president was unmoved. The third attempt was a combination of scornful sarcasm and facts. “The alternative is to do nothing,” I said. “We’ve got plenty of data to show that’s not working.” The tension in the restaurant booth was palpable. 

We stared each other down like a couple of prizefighters. I was unconvinced that ESTA’s “talking points” were the real reason why teachers would be so vehemently opposed to high standards. So I prodded with pointed questions. The president responded assuredly and bluntly, “Our kids can’t pass Algebra 2. You’re setting them up to fail.” I was shocked by the honesty, however misplaced in my opinion. Sincere sadness began to creep into my consciousness. How could we possibly expect kids to succeed if our teachers don’t expect them to be successful?

Ultimately, we agreed to disagree on the merits of the policy. I confidently stated that I would move forward with the proposal at the State of the District Address later that month “with or without ESTA’s support.” “If ESTA wanted to go on record opposing high standards,” I continued, “the court of public opinion will certainly weigh in.” Teachers in opposition to higher standards wouldn’t be a good look. ESTA’s president paused and assured me that the organization and membership would remain publicly neutral.  

Satisfied for the moment, I ended the meeting with a forced smile and a cordial handshake. Before meeting with the ESTA president, I anticipated an A-G slam dunk. After my unwise display of stubborn determination at breakfast, I knew that preparing for a full-court press was the only course of action. It was going to be a long road to secure passage of an A-G graduation policy. Phase 2 – developing a comprehensive advocacy strategy – would have to begin right away.

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Next Week: The Advocacy Plan