Friday, October 12
A thin poster hangs over a television in Gary Cruz’s classroom. “Welcome, Mr. Cruz. We missed you,” it says in bright marker. He was out the previous week because of a family emergency.
As students file in, Cruz asks if they brought permission slips for next week’s field trip to the Fort Mason Center, where they’ll give a presentation on the teacher observation process.
Today, five students will give the same presentation to the Coalition of Essential Small Schools, an organization that provides coaching and technical assistance to schools.
Cruz asks students for tips on giving a successful presentation.
“Make eye contact,” says a girl.
“Speak clearly and loudly,” shouts another as Cruz writes the recommendations on the white board.
“Don’t fidget,” suggests another.
The five students, dressed casually in jeans and leggings, move to the back of the room to practice their presentation in front of the class.
One girl in the audience sticks her fingers inside a small red raisin box as the boy next to her slouches in his chair, his black backpack still on his back.
The presenters detail the steps of the observation process, including note taking and giving feedback.
Some speak confidently, while others struggle to look up from their notes, speaking too low to understand.
“What’s something someone might notice [about the presentation]?” asks Cruz when the students are finished.
They are mostly girls up there, a student observes.
Out of the five practicing, four are girls.
“That’s not right,” says one of the girls presenting. “It should be equal — half boys, half girls presenting.”
“Why?” asks Cruz.
“Sexist,” whispers the same girl, afraid her answer will get her in trouble.
“Why?” Cruz prods.
“They might think boys can’t do it,” interjects a student from the audience.
Cruz agrees. He rushed to get volunteers for today’s presentation, but Thursday will be balanced, he says.
The presentation lasts about 30 minutes and involves audience participation, including a discussion on when student feedback changed how a class was taught. In the end, the adults are to write down what they think the next step is at their own sites.
Cruz asks the rest of the class for warm, or favorable, feedback.
A few answers: They were focused. There wasn’t much side conversation.
Now, for the cool, or critical, feedback.
Stop looking at the notes so much, says a boy in white t-shirt with slicked-back hair.
One of the girls needs to be more prepared, he continues. She seemed nervous.
“We’re going to take Muni, so we can practice on the bus,” says Cruz.
“Stand up straight,” continue a few others. “There was a little leg crossing,”
“I can’t help it,” says one of the girls who led the presentation. “That’s me.”
“You’ve got to be someone else for the hour and a half,” says Cruz.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean that,” he immediately says, adding that she should always be herself.
Cruz then asks the boy with the slicked-back hair to be a presenter on Thursday at the Fort Mason Center.
“I can’t miss no class,” says the boy.
It won’t hurt you, says Cruz, trying to convince him.
“I’ve done bad already,” responds the boy.
“I know. That’s ok,” says Cruz.
“Last time I missed a couple of class, look what happened,” says the boy. “I failed.”
Cruz moves on.
One of the girls who was supposed to present in the afternoon is absent. Cruz needs a replacement.
He asks one of the girls already standing up to take over the part. She covers her face with her hands, trying to hide from the question. Reluctantly, she agrees.