For one New Orleans youth, a college scholarship could pave the way to a better life for his family
J鈥橰emi Barnes locks the door behind him as he steps into the squat, three-bedroom duplex his family rents in New Orleans East. In the living room, a few half-packed boxes are scattered in preparation for a move his mom hopes to make to a safer neighborhood鈥攐nce she finds a place. A fatal shooting occurred recently in an empty lot behind the duplex.
鈥淚 have my ticket out鈥攎y ticket to like a better life. That鈥檚 college,鈥� J鈥橰emi says, framed by photos of him, his three brothers, and his mother hanging on the wall. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 even have to come back after college. I mean, I am, but I don鈥檛 have to deal with this for another four years at least.鈥�
A recent graduate of New Orleans鈥� Sci Academy, J鈥橰emi, 18, is among the post-Katrina swell of poor, African-American students who are going to college at a higher rate than before the storm. Many credit the city鈥檚 surge of college-prep, 鈥渘o excuses鈥� charter schools with propelling growing numbers of students into higher education, some, like J鈥橰emi, who had never imagined themselves going to college.
J鈥橰emi鈥檚 wearing a red T-shirt that says Grinnell College, the small liberal arts school in Iowa he鈥檒l be attending this fall on full scholarship. He excitedly describes a course on censorship he wants to take, his energetic gestures out of harmony with the soft instrumental music coming from the Skyrim video game he鈥檚 put on pause.
鈥淭he government censors what you say in other countries,鈥� J鈥橰emi explains. 鈥淎nd that sounds interesting to me because I like talking a lot.鈥�
Itinerant Life
J鈥橰emi has never been to Iowa, or anywhere, really, beyond New Orleans and the subsequent storm-spurred stints that took his family to Texas and Georgia.
He was 8 years old when Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans. His mom, who works as a card dealer at a local casino, had taken her sons to Texas before the storm made landfall, but several of his family members stayed behind. His grandfather had a heart attack and died in the throes of the hurricane and a house fire that was sparked by an uncovered electrical box.
Over the next three years, J鈥橰emi moved among four towns in Georgia, changing schools with each move.
His family came home to New Orleans in 2008, where J鈥橰emi landed at the Milestone Sabis Academy, a middle school housed across the river in Jefferson Parish. His older brother, Eddie, enrolled at Sci Academy, one school in a small charter network of three called Collegiate Academies that would soon establish a reputation for pulling academically lagging kids up to, and above, grade level. J鈥橰emi followed him there a few years later.
鈥淗e came in very tiny and very goofy,鈥� says Jon Bogard, J鈥橰emi鈥檚 adviser and teacher. He was smart, Bogard says, ahead of a lot of his peers. He exerted himself as little as possible, still managing to earn decent grades.
But Bogard saw a powerful magnetism in J鈥橰emi. He knew with high expectations that J鈥橰emi would flourish.
On a freshman field trip to Tulane University at the beginning of the school year, Bogard labored over creating a cheer for his group of students, including J鈥橰emi, that they would chant together in a spirit competition. 鈥淎nd I remember spending the night before coming up with the chant and having this moment of terror before teaching it to the boys,鈥� Bogard says. 鈥淲hat happens if they don鈥檛 join in?鈥�
It was also Bogard鈥檚 first year at Sci Academy, and he had no idea what to expect. He had arrived in New Orleans two years before as a Teach For America recruit, fresh out of Brown University.
But J鈥橰emi jumped right in, 鈥渮ealously,鈥� as Bogard describes it, shouting the chant at the top of his lungs, rallying the group.
They won the competition.
The educators at Sci Academy鈥攎any of them imports to New Orleans鈥攎ake it their mission to fire students up about going to college.
The school has been held up both as an example of post-Katrina successes and failures. It was recognized by Oprah Winfrey for its track record in boosting academic achievement for poor, black students. It鈥檚 also been singled out in community protests over its high suspension rates.
Sci is the classic college-prep, no-excuses charter school鈥攐ne where toeing the line is not just a figure of speech. Lowerclassmen at Sci Academy are expected to walk along lines taped on the ground, one of many rules J鈥橰emi says he initially chafed under. 鈥淚t was just like, 鈥榃hy am I walking the lines again? Am I in jail?鈥� 鈥�
In schools like Sci, 鈥渟cholars鈥� are often required to keep their feet firmly planted on the ground, lock their elbows when they raise their hands, 鈥渢rack鈥� or follow the teacher with their eyes at all times, and snap their fingers after a fellow scholar answers a question correctly.
Strict rules, Sci leaders say, undergird its academic success.
Adhering to the Rules
Until recently, failure to adhere to Sci Academy鈥檚 long list of directives鈥攁s well as more serious infractions such as fighting鈥攐ften led to out-of-school suspensions or even expulsion. In 2012-13, the school posted a nearly 60 percent suspension rate. J鈥橰emi was sent home for two days for using bad language.
And the school came under fire for some of those policies, despite the academic gains its students were making.
But the issue is not unique to Sci Academy: Exclusionary discipline, as it鈥檚 called, had become a major cause for concern citywide.
The reasons behind such high rates of out-of-school punishment are more nuanced than breaking strict rules, says Joshua Perry, the executive director of the Louisiana Center for Children鈥檚 Rights, the state鈥檚 public defender for juveniles. Among them, he says, is a tendency to disproportionately discipline African-American students for normal teenage behavior. .
鈥淵ou have a lot of teachers who are just young, and green, and not that well trained to respond to difficult classroom situations, [and] who don鈥檛 appreciate exactly what they鈥檙e doing when they put kids out of school,鈥� Perry says.
69传媒 who are suspended or expelled are less likely to graduate and more likely to end up in jail, he says.
Exclusionary discipline practices have been a major challenge for the city鈥檚 system of independent schools, although expulsions from any public school鈥攚hich are much less frequent鈥攁re now handled by a special citywide office.
Suspension policies, however, are still handled at the school level. And some, including Sci Academy, have started taking steps to drive down the rates at which they send students home for misbehavior. Now, at Sci, students are sent to an in-school suspension center where they continue their studies and are counseled by specialized staff.
鈥淚 think the suspension rate was sending a message that we actually didn鈥檛 want to serve all the kids. We were like, that鈥檚 not OK,鈥� says Rhonda Dale, Sci Academy鈥檚 principal. 鈥淲e don鈥檛 want parents and community members thinking of us in that way.鈥�
The school all but eliminated out-of-school suspensions in 2014-15, but it came at a high cost: $300,000 that the school had to raise to pay for the in-school suspension center mostly through grants.
But the moves to curb discipline have received mixed reviews. 鈥淗onestly, when I stopped suspending children, I had a lot of parents who came in and said, 鈥榃ait, I want a school that鈥檚 really strict鈥攖hat鈥檚 why I sent my kid here,鈥欌�夆�� says Dale.
And for all its work around school suspensions, Sci Academy still enforces a strict code of conduct鈥攁n environment that some parents, educators, and charter school critics believe stifles students鈥� creativity and disregards local culture and values.
One veteran educator, Principal Mary Laurie, says at L.B. Landry-O.P. Walker High School on the city鈥檚 West Bank of the Mississippi River, out-of-school suspensions have always been a rarely used form of discipline at her school.
鈥淚t鈥檚 crucial that cultures are respected,鈥� she says, 鈥渟o that our children see they鈥檙e being respected, so parents feel they are respected, so the great city of New Orleans is respected.鈥�
But J鈥橰emi believes the no-excuses culture at Sci Academy is what got him into college.
A Brother鈥檚 Lost Opportunity
J鈥橰emi hears his mom pull into the driveway and shoots up off the couch to help her carry his 4-week-old nephew into the house. Eddie Barnes, J鈥橰emi鈥檚 older brother, is the baby鈥檚 father. Eddie, who graduated from Sci Academy in 2012, had moved to Vermont to attend Middlebury College on scholarship. But overcome with homesickness, he didn鈥檛 last there for long, J鈥橰emi says.
Now, Eddie is working two jobs and living with J鈥橰emi, their mother, and two younger brothers, ages 10 and 13. They don鈥檛 see much of their father, even though he lives in New Orleans. Once competitors to be the 鈥榠t鈥� guy at Sci Academy, the two older brothers have been having a lot of heart-to-hearts lately as J鈥橰emi prepares to leave for Grinnell.
I don鈥檛 want to get a college education and leave; I want to leave an impression on Grinnell.
鈥淵eah, he told me to take advantage of support systems out there,鈥� J鈥橰emi says. 鈥淗e鈥檚 like making mistakes for me. I鈥檓 learning from his things. 鈥� He鈥檚 like, 鈥楧on鈥檛 get me wrong, I love my son, but don鈥檛 do what I did.鈥欌�夆��
If J鈥橰emi makes it at Grinnell, he will be defying the odds painted by national statistics: only about 10 percent of low-income, first-generation college students earn a degree.
As more New Orleans students were getting accepted to college, charter school leaders realized that getting them into a university was only half the battle and that they were perhaps losing the second half.
Cohen College Prep in New Orleans鈥� Central City neighborhood鈥攈ome to some of the most violent crime in the city鈥攈ad the third-highest college enrollment rate in New Orleans in 2013-14. It trailed only two of the city鈥檚 selective-admissions high schools, where the student bodies are much more racially mixed and serve fewer students from poor families.
Like many of its charter school brethren, Cohen plasters university posters and pennants in its hallways. But its commitment to getting students into鈥攁nd through鈥攃ollege runs much deeper.
Seventy-eight percent of Cohen鈥檚 first graduating class went to college, many of them the first in their families to do so.
The school created an alumni-director position to act as a surrogate helicopter parent for all its first-generation college-goers. That relationship starts in high school and continues for years beyond.
The alumni director helps families fill out federal financial aid forms, checks in with students throughout the summer, visits every campus where a Cohen graduate is a student, and is on call throughout the school year to help them navigate college life and academics.
The school also helps students cover expenses such as books, winter coats, or even plane tickets home, seemingly small challenges that can derail some students.
鈥淟et鈥檚 say mom is sick,鈥� explains Rahel Wondwossen, Cohen鈥檚 principal. 鈥淭hey buy a one-way ticket, and now, they don鈥檛 have the other $150 or whatever to get home, and so they miss the rest of the semester, they get dropped from their financial aid. A lot of the barriers for our kids are not these huge expenses.鈥�
J鈥橰emi will have similar supports through a Posse Scholarship鈥攚hich will also cover his tuition. But perhaps more importantly, he鈥檒l have the support of nine other New Orleans graduates who are headed to Grinnell with J鈥橰emi, as part of the Posse Scholarship program for urban students with academic and leadership potential but not necessarily stellar academic backgrounds. Posse staff members keep tabs on their students much the same way Cohen鈥檚 alumni director does.
As the start of classes approach, J鈥橰emi wavers between excitement and anxiety. He鈥檚 plotting how to make a name for himself at Grinnell.
鈥淭hat鈥檚 how it was at Sci. Even if you didn鈥檛 know me, you knew of me,鈥� he says. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 want to get a college education and leave, I want to leave an impression on Grinnell. I just want to be a positive influence to some people. I mean, don鈥檛 we all?鈥�
But J鈥橰emi鈥檚 also realistic about how tough the transition will be, a lesson he knows from his brother鈥檚 experience at Middlebury. He knows the rigors of college might really test him. The workload will be more demanding than high school. He鈥檚 worried his little brothers won鈥檛 do their homework without him there to prod them. And there will be no week off for Mardi Gras.
Sci Academy could only prepare him so much, J鈥橰emi says.
鈥淭hey can鈥檛 teach you to not be homesick.鈥�
Aside from his weekly Posse Scholar meetings, J鈥橰emi鈥檚 found his own ways to make sure he鈥檚 ready for Grinnell. He鈥檚 been shopping for new clothes, spending the money he saved from graduations gifts and playing piano at church services.
J鈥橰emi had been saving the money to get a driver鈥檚 license, but decided that new clothes were more important.
A sharp wardrobe, he told his best friend, who will attend Louisiana State University, trumps all else.
鈥淲e have to go shopping before we go to college,鈥� J鈥橰emi says. 鈥淲e have to reinvent ourselves.鈥�
