Dream Makers

One evening in February, 10 parents sit in the Gloria R. Davis library munching on pizza, trying to figure out how they can get other parents involved in the school.

Derrick Eva, who heads up the comparatively successful parent organization at fellow Dream School Charles R. Drew, has been invited to lead the discussion. A compact, businesslike man, Eva slashes a marker down a giant tablet of paper and prints on one side "haves" and on the other side "needs."

"When you're talking about the Dream School, the Lorraine Monroe model, you're talking about a model institution," he says crisply. "Gloria R. Davis is a real school with some deficiencies. ... Now when you look at Gloria R. Davis right now, what can parents do to enhance the quality of the school?"

"More parental presence throughout the day," says one parent.

"Someone who oversees dress codes," suggests another.

Eva writes these things down on the "needs" side.

"What can we do to involve the community? I believe it takes more than just parents," prods Eva.

"Let's do like the Jehovah's Witnesses do and go door to door," says an older woman who volunteers almost every day at the school.

"To do what?" asks a slightly baffled Matthew Livingston, who is sitting off to one side of the room.

"Invite them in."

"I challenge you to come up with two innovative goals tonight," begs Eva, snapping the cap back on his marker. "If the Dream School fails, it's because of the parents," he says. "I'm sorry. It's a big burden. You have the opportunity to create a community-based school. ... How that happens, you determine."

Research has shown that how active a role a parent takes in a child's education has a lot to do with how well the child does in school. But the reality of the Bayview is that many parents are enmeshed in personal struggles that don't leave much time to be eager PTA types. With the Dream Schools, the district has challenged school staff and those parents who are involved to change that picture. To help them, it has hired a full-time parent liaison at each Dream School.

Peggy Gash, Davis' parent liaison, often reaches disconnected number after disconnected number when she tries to call students' homes. Meetings like this one are underattended. There are, after all, 185 students in the school, and only 10 parents are here. Many parents want nothing to do with schools, period.

"You're talking about people who are victims of the system," says parent Omar Khalif. "All of them have been through the public schools, which was probably the worst time of their lives."

Eva remembers lobbying hard to get one mother to come to a meeting, only to see her peer in the window, then run away.

The district has sponsored job-training workshops and computer classes in an effort to lure adults into the schools. "We asked ourselves, 'What would make that parent comfortable on campus ... so that they can just feel good about schools again and impart that feeling to their child?'" says Deena Zacharin, the district's director of the office of parent relations, which put together the workshops. So far, the turnout has been small.

Before it became a Dream School, Davis rarely had parent volunteers. Now, at least four can be found on campus at all times. Lorraine Hanks, a parent of a seventh-grader, runs the campus snack bar every Monday.

"There's people everywhere now," says eighth-grader Shakeyla, who wouldn't give her last name. "You can't cut or nothin'!"

At the same time, it's infuriating for the "usual suspect" parents who always show up at school functions to know that there are some parents who have never once appeared at school. And not surprisingly, these parents say, the children of missing-in-action parents are, more often than not, the kids disrupting classes.

"Some of these parents aren't even going to see their parole officer," says student adviser Vernon O'Gilvie. "How are they going to see the school?"

"I would venture to propose four events, two per semester," says Livingston, taking over at the large paper pad. "A talent show or concert. These events should be huge! It should be a given that everyone is there."

The parents murmur approvingly.

"I don't think there's a parent that won't come out to see their kid in a talent event," agrees Eva.

Livingston writes "community event, 4-6." Then he points the marker at the room. "OK, who's my committee? Are you the committee? I want names!"

There's a pause, during which you can feel frustration and resignation pass through the room like a shared heat flash. "It's always the same," someone murmurs. The usual suspects raise their hands.

Despite the cold, Livingston won't let any of the honor roll students wear their coats on the motorized trolley. It would cover their blazers, and he wants them to look sharp for the public. In one of his ongoing attempts to reward good grades, Livingston has taken $1,000 of his own money and hired the trolley to drive the honor roll members around town. For an entire Friday, they get to play hooky.