Tucked inside a northwest Denver neighborhood lies a school born out of the Chicano civil rights movement that, decades later, instills cultural identity in its students while overcoming an identity crisis of its own.
Escuela Tlatelolco, founded in 1970 as the brainchild of a Chicano/Mexicano civil rights organization that included Rodolfo “Corky” Gonzales, is trying to go back to its roots while also searching for growth for the 135-student school.
The dual-language Montessori school is pre-K through 12th grade. It continues to figure itself out in some respects, like whether it should be classified as a private or charter school. But principal Nita Gonzales, Corky’s daughter, said one thing is clear: The Denver Public Schools’ contract that held the school accountable for certain performance standards in exchange for roughly $1 million in funding wasn’t working anymore.
“We almost lost our soul in our contracting fiasco,” Gonzales said.
The district took issue with the school’s , such as persistently low test scores.
According to 2014-15 PARCC standardized testing data provided by DPS, 3.3 percent of Escuela students were proficient in English language arts and 2 percent were proficient in math, compared with the district at 33.5 percent and 24.9 percent proficient, respectively.
The school claimed the urgency and demand to teach for a test was detracting from its mission of an experimental curriculum based on social justice.
Toward the end of 2014, Escuela and DPS agreed to they formed in 2004. The past school year has been a period of transition, easing the school and district into their final tango with talks of a future relationship where DPS could provide resources in the form of teacher training, research and leadership training.
According to Gonzales, DPS funds around $800,000 of the school’s $1.8 million annual operational costs. DPS said that during the 2015 financial year it gave $1.2 million total to Escuela.
Instead of worrying how the school is going to scrounge together nearly a million dollars, Gonzales said she’s more concerned about deciding what her students need and finding a way to make it happen. Her colleagues agreed, adding that Gonzales is “the best fundraiser they know.”
The school’s biggest annual fundraiser was Friday night at the Denver Museum of Nature & Science.
“Is it going to be easy?” she asked. “Probably not. But I really don’t care.”
But as school administrators continue to work on the particulars of major fundraising efforts to make up for the funding void, the school bell keeps ringing, and the students keep filing in.
Liberating Minds
The school’s mission statement begins: “To liberate the mind, heart, and spirit of students, through the knowledge of their cultural expression, moral courage, and honorable behavior.”
While staff members are staring down flow charts and brainstorming lists on how to move forward, the message blasted out to students hasn’t changed much since its 1969 beginnings as a summer school for disempowered Chicano and Mexican youths: The hallways the students walk at 2949 N. Federal Blvd. are lined with art reminding them of their power and historical origins.
Toddlers’ voices sing the days of the week in Spanish and float out of one classroom.
Nearby, a mixed grade-level classroom is busy working on floor puzzles, math equations in one corner and Colorado history lessons in another.
It’s “structured chaos,” said Montessori co-teacher David Orr, who teaches a fourth- through sixth-grade classroom.
“I love it,” he said. “I used to teach at a traditional school, but here the students are empowered with the responsibility of freedom of choice.”
Students are required to do community service hours. They camp in national parks to spend time in nature. They engage in hands-on learning during weekly trips to the Urban Farm at Stapleton to feed animals and do farm chores during a unit on food justice. They hold potlucks to share food from their cultures.
The nearly 97 percent Latino student population isn’t shamed for speaking Spanish. Students listen to and participate in testimony at the state Capitol when it’s relevant to their lessons. Debating and public speaking are encouraged.
Now a junior, 17-year-old Esperanza Aquirre is relieved she left a Catholic school to attend Escuela for high school.
“My education here has really grown,” Aquirre said. “I feel like I’m actually learning something.”
Aquirre found herself at Escuela at the encouragement of her mom, Mary Lou, who graduated from the school in 1995.
The celebrations of Latino culture and deep involvement in the community were big reasons why Mary Lou wanted her daughter to attend the school, but the overwhelming push came from the camaraderie Mary Lou said exists.
“I just wanted to show her there’s other family outside her immediate family,” Mary Lou said.
Esperanza, who said everyone knows everyone at Escuela, knows the feeling her mom was talking about.
“It’s different in a good way,” she said. “You just feel like you’re at home.”
Mi Casa Es Su Casa
About a year ago, Robyn Mondragon and Manny Gonzales rang Escuela’s doorbell that alerts the front office that visitors are outside. They have since made themselves cozy.
They were hired by the school to help Escuela through the transition. In addition to analyzing test scores and funding scenarios, they embedded themselves in the school to get a feel for the institution’s culture.
On a Monday afternoon, a line of little ones snaking their way from the classroom to the cafeteria is broken as a pair of tiny feet pitter-patter full speed toward Mondragon. Her legs are constricted in a hug, and she pats the young girl’s back.
Mondragon knows the data behind the native mural-covered brick-and-mortar building — more than 90 percent of the students inside are in the free and reduced-price lunch program, more than 70 percent are English-language learners, 73 percent of students go on to complete an undergraduate degree, according to 2013-14 Colorado Department of Education statistics.
But she also knows the students’ names and stories.
To address the sinking test scores, the consultant team prioritized four performance challenges:
- Persistently low academic achievement and growth in mathematics across all grade levels for students within all subgroups.
- Persistently low academic achievement in writing across all grade levels for all students.
- Persistently low academic achievement in reading for all students.
- Unsatisfactory overall student performance on the ACT.
“Although there is a long and proud history attached to Escuela Tlatelolco,” Mondragon said, “the quantitative trend data, across the system, revealed some alarming truths.”
Now the consultants and Escuela staff are left grappling with one question: “How do we meet the accountability demands facing schools in the 21st century to ensure students leave their experience college- and career-ready, without compromising the essence of what has made Escuela distinguishable as a nationally recognized education well for social justice?”
From Here On Out
The kids at Escuela need to know how to form their own educated opinion, defend it and argue it in a public forum, but they also need to know how to do the quadratic equation.
To do that, Mondragon said the school is in the process of designing a curriculum to meet traditional education benchmarks — sufficient state testing scores, higher ACT and SAT scores and so on — that also stresses the counter-narrative.
“Instead of just analyzing … civil rights in the ’60s and ’70s, this is also inclusive of what is happening now,” Mondragon said.
Escuela officials are so confident in their teaching style that they’re interested in trademarking their educational model to spread their practice.
Escuela’s contract with DPS officially ends after June 30. Most of the school’s future decisions hang in the balance until then as Gonzales and her team do their best to plan, partner and prepare themselves for their financial safety net to be removed.
The institution is considering what life as a private school might look like. In an effort not to charge a tuition, leaders are looking into partnerships with local universities or donors who could help keep the hallways full.
But everyone at Escuela is sure of one thing: The doors will stay open.
“We’re here to remind people we’re here,” math teacher Monica Garcia said. “We’ve been here. And we’re going to continue to exist.”
