Relentless Pursuit Read Free Page B

stoplight. But the kids argued over which color went where. She herself became confused. When she suggested that yellow meant “slow down,” they corrected her: “Not in L.A.!” Soon all the kids were talking out of turn. One kid started whistling; others took up the refrain.
    She was paralyzed.
What do I do?
Finally, the faculty advisor observing in the back of the room had to step in to restore order. She kept the students after class and gave them a stern lecture. Then she gave Taylor one, too.
    It stuck. The next day Taylor went in with guns blazing. She walked up and down the room and addressed the class: “You will NEVER disrespect me again,” she barked. Then she proceeded to lay down the laws of her classroom. The kids were spellbound. Taylor never had a problem with discipline again. At the end of summer school, students came up to her and thanked her for maintaining control and allowing them to learn. They told her they wished she had been even stricter.
    Now, in the darkened classroom, she began the lesson she had meticulously planned the night before on exploring narration and point of view in the short story. “Open your books,” she repeated. “Check this out.”
    She stopped. Someone was talking.
    â€œWhen I’m talking, you’re not; when you’re talking, I’m not,” she said, repeating her pet phrase for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. “I’ll wait till it’s quiet.” She stood staring at Billy, a Latino boy in the front row who’d been talking. “I’ll wait…Raised hand, please. Thank you, Billy. Question?”
    Taylor was halfway through the lesson when there was a knock on the door. She knew something was wrong as soon as she saw Mr. Wooden, one of the ninth-grade deans. He turned his face away from the students and spoke in a clipped whisper. The school was on lockdown. Under no circumstances was she to allow any student to leave the classroom. Taylor nodded knowingly. Meanwhile, her heart was racing.
What will I tell the kids when they ask why the dean came? What happened? Are we all in danger?
    She tried to pull herself together and continue the lesson. But it wasn’t easy. As she taught, the internal monologue kept running through her head.
Taylor, keep calm, damn it! You are in control of this classroom. Don’t let them know anything is wrong. Just keep teaching. Wait a second. Lockdown! We are all going to die! A terrorist is running in the hallways of the main building and is headed out here to the bungalows to kill us next!
All she could see were images of Columbine.
    Now a kid was raising his hand—as required—and asking to go to the bathroom.
    â€œNo,” she said. “You can’t.”
    â€œWhy not?” the student asked.
    â€œLook,” she said. “You can’t go to the bathroom because nobody is leaving right now.”
    Twenty pairs of eyes were trained on her. Then Irvin, one of her smartest students, called out: “It’s because we’re on lockdown, isn’t it?”
    She could hear the fear in his voice for sure, but there was something else there, too, something knowing, almost cynical. Irvin had been down this road before.
    â€œYes, we are on lockdown,” she conceded, as if this were as routine as lunch period. “There is nothing to worry about. But we will not be leaving this classroom until we are instructed to do so.”
    Taylor continued the lesson. By the end of the period, the lights were back on. There had been no foul play. Locke—and some two million other customers—had lost electricity when a utility worker at a distribution plant accidentally cut a power cable.

CHAPTER TWO
    The School and the Movement
    Although education has long been considered a cornerstone of American democracy, there was an achievement gap in this country long before Teach For America started sending graduates like Phillip,