Text #1 (newspaper article)
“From Cacophony to Harmony”
By Julian Guthrie
Jack Martens has been using music for
33 years to reach kids in the Western
Addition
With a tuba in his lap, Lloyd Horton is no longer a timorous 90pound 12-year-old. He's smooth and commanding - and 40
pounds heavier. Smiling shyly, he says, "I like playing big things
because I'm small." (1)
Nearby sits Gladys Reyes, whose family emigrated from El Salvador. At night they gather to hear her play new favorites: "San
Francisco" and "Frosty the Snowman" on a French horn. (2)
In Jack Martens' music class, clarinetist Michael Gebreyesus says students learn that life is more than "me, me, me; it's we." (3)
Every weekday some 225 kids pour into a basement classroom at Benjamin Franklin Middle School in San Francisco's Western
Addition. Following their teacher's lead, they learn many things, including how to make music. At week's end, the shine on the
red linoleum floor has faded, the victim of hundreds of fast-tapping high-tops. (4)
In this cramped room, where bars cover the windows and each pop can is recycled to raise money for instruments, Jack
Martens has conducted class for 33 years. He has moved inner-city kids from cacophony to harmony, and in doing so has
created one of the most vital public school music programs in the nation. At 54, he has come to be known as the Bay Area's
own Mr. Holland. (5)
His students have described him as "crazy," as "funny" and as "the best teacher ever." Martens was formally recognized by
peers when he won the 1996 "Mr. Holland Award," given annually to 10 educators nationwide. The award is named after the
inspired music teacher played by Richard Dreyfuss in the film "Mr. Holland's Opus." (6)
While one-third of the nation's public school music programs have been dropped over the past decade, and California has
slipped to 49th place in the number of its music teachers per students, Martens has refused to let music be muffled. He raises
money for instruments. He knows that stores pay 35 cents less a pound for recycling than metal recycling centers. He has
expanded Ben Franklin's program, even as music courses elsewhere in The City were scaled back. (7)
When San Francisco Supervisor Mabel Teng held community meetings in late October to devise a plan to fund arts and music
programs throughout San Francisco schools, she spoke of Martens' commitment. She also spoke of the tangible benefits of art
and music: kids exposed to such classes fare better in math and science on standardized tests. Martens says simply: "We're not
just doing brain stuff. We're taking the brain stuff and getting it to the heart." (8)
Kids Who Play at Davies
From 8 a.m. to 5 p.m., Martens teaches five band classes daily, some with nearly 80 students. Some are sixth-graders who don't
know how to hold a flute. Others are eighth-graders who perform at Davies Symphony Hall. (9)
Regardless of their skill, Martens cajoles and cheers them. He jumps on chairs, gets down on one knee, gamboles, dances and
jams. During a visit last week he grabbed a reporter and twirled her. Stopping abruptly, he asked the band: "Are we elephants?
You sound like you're playing for elephants." He commanded them: "Pick it up. Make us dance." (10)
Over the years his students have performed before the queen of England and the president during visits to San Francisco.
Known as "The Band from Ben," they play in public more than 30 times a year: at City Hall, at the Embarcadero, at Davies
Symphony Hall, among other venues. (11)
They are the first to say that music is not a frill; that education involves more than reading and math. That it's possible to be
transformed by a trumpet, to feel at home in a band and find a voice when speaking English is a struggle. (12)
"I don't know if I'd do as well in school if I didn't have music," says seventh-grader Jessica Carter, who plays the trumpet. "It
gives me a way to express myself. I don't feel comfortable like that in other classes. And, Mr. Martens is the nicest teacher I've
ever had. He laughs, yells and is crazy, but he knows what he's talking about." (13)
Martens is a perennial teacher: scuffed white sneakers, a shirt pocket stocked with pens and a set of jingling keys at his hip. His
father taught music in Oakland public schools for 40 years. His uncle is a music teacher, as is his wife. (14)
"When school starts, I know to say goodbye to Jack because I won't be seeing much of him until the end of the year," says his
wife, Cora Martens. (15)
Like other music instructors, Jack Martens teaches the accepted indicators of quality musical performance: tempo, intonation,
phrasing, tone, dynamics and balance. But through his wacky verve and watchful eye, Martens turns gangling adolescents who
slump in chairs on the first day of class into poised musicians by the eighth grade. (16)
From Bach to jazz and pop, they have wowed crowds with their renditions of difficult-to-play "Majestia" by James
Swearingenand "The Drunken Sailor" by Grant Hull. (17)
But Martens' real love is helping kids figure out that off-tempo, unscripted score of life. (18)
"I don't consider myself a music teacher. I use music to reach kids," he says during a break between classes, as he bounds
around the room, moving chairs and stands, picking up paper that missed the trash, flinging open a window. (19)
Citing Mark Twain's quote - "When a child turns twelve, you should put him in a barrel, nail the lid down and feed him
through a knothole" - Martens says, "I choose to be in the barrel with the kids." (20)
The barrel that is Ben Franklin Middle School is sometimes sonorous, at other times clamorous. The school, built in 1913,
houses more than 630 students. Half speak English as a second language. Eighty-three percent qualify for free or reduced-price
lunches because they come from low-income families. Thirteen percent are in special education programs. (21)
Room for grief
Recently, as kids filed into Martens' room, plunked down heavy backpacks and retrieved instruments from chipped robin's-egg
blue cabinets, Martens noticed a teary-eyed girl trailing behind. Guiding her into the hall, the two spoke softly. The girl's young
relative had died the day before. Martens told her she didn't have to play if her heart was too heavy. (22)
"The most important thing in my class is not music. It's not a particular program. It's not the three R's of reading, writing and
arithmetic. It's one R, and that is relationships," Martens says. "It's daring to institute a relationship, being one on one, nose to
nose." (23)
Over the years, Martens has been nose to nose with thousands of students. Some have had their lives changed. (24)
"Jack saw something in me that kept me from giving up," recalls former student Aaron Hamilton, 26, who teaches music at a
public school in Brooklyn and plays the trumpet at night. "I was taking care of myself when I was at Ben Franklin. My mom
and dad were alcohol- and crack-addicted. Jack saw me through those crazy things. He was like a big brother and a father
figure. (25)
"The door to my life broke open at Ben Franklin," Hamilton says. Music became his map. Martens was his guide. (26)
When Hamilton was accepted to the Manhattan School of Music, Martens found him a benefactor to pay his tuition for all four
years. When Hamilton's mother was dying in 1997, Martens provided a plane ticket home. (26)
"I called Jack last year and couldn't help but cry," Hamilton says. "I thanked him for giving me the chance to be something.
He's happy knowing that I'm giving back. That I'm teaching and giving the gift of music to kids." (27)
To maintain the music program at Benjamin Franklin Middle School, Martens hustles to raise nearly $20,000 a year. (28)
Endowment planned
San Francisco businessman Dick Essey contributes about $7,500 a year, and is working to create an endowment that would
permanently fund the program. "When I see these kids perform, I see how well-mannered and proud they are," says Essey, the
benefactor who helped Hamilton and another of Martens' students through college. (29)
"I see how dedicated Jack is. It's heartening to have a part in helping someone who helps so many." (30)
Another major benefactor is Ingrid Hills, a San Franciscan who launched The Hills Project in 1992. She and her husband,
Reuben Hills, help fund music, art and dance classes for 3,400 students in six public schools in San Francisco and two in
Berkeley. (31)
The Hills Project provides Ben Franklin with $75,000 a year for arts and music programs during and after school. When
Martens said he'd love to teach jazz after school, Hills came up with the funds. He now has a 36-member jazz band. (32)
"Through the arts, kids learn to tap into their talents," Hills says. "All of a sudden, they find they love dance, love the trumpet
or love playing in the jazz band. Many of these kids were on the outskirts academically. For the first time, through the arts,
they find something to excel at. (33)
"I just wish we had more Jack Martens out there." (34)
Martens welcomes the support, but demurs at compliments. (35)
"We all get the applause, we all get the tomatoes," he says. (36)
But, after more than three decades of teaching, his enthusiasm still feels brand new. Students can hear his cackle from down the
hall. His praise of "Nice tubas!" and call to "Play it from the heart" rises above the band. He still dances in class to ensemble
pieces. (37)
With a twinkle in his eyes, Jack Martens says, "The kids think I'm a little nuts - and that's wonderful." (38)
Reading Questions “From Cacophony to Harmony” Julian Guthrie
1. What does Jack Martens teach? Who are his students? How old are they?
2. What important lessons do students learn in Mr. Martens’ class?
3. How does Martens capture the interest of students in his class? How does he motivate them?
4. How does he show he cares about his students?
5. What did he do to help Aaron Hamilton?
6. What does the title of the article mean?
7. What are the major techniques/practices Mr, Martens uses to inspire + engage his students?
Text #2 (From NPR [National Public Radio])
'They Can't Just Be Average': Lifting Students Up Without Lowering the Bar
By Kavita Cardoza and Cory Turner, 25 Oct. 2017
"They can't just be average." (1)
Charles Curtis is talking about the roughly 100 young, black men in the inaugural freshman class at Ron
Brown College Prep, a radical new high school in Washington, D.C. Curtis, the school psychologist, puts
it simply: "There is no place in the world for an average black person." (2)
The school is devoted to restorative justice, forcing students into uncomfortable conversations and faceto-face apologies instead of suspension1 or detention.2 There's also a high-expectations approach to
academics, best told through the voices of two veteran teachers. (3)
Schalette Gudger, English teacher
Gudger is a veteran teacher with 16 years of experience. Early in the
year, she tells parents that she expects a lot from their young men:
(4)
"So, if I'm tough on them it's because I have high expectations for
them. I'm going to be hard on them. Because I teach the language
that helps them unlock the codes that we've been telling them to
switch. ... And if they will allow me, I will give them what I have."
(5)
In the classroom, Gudger is always pushing her students to dig
deeper. The vast majority of Ron Brown's faculty and staff are men.
Ms. G, as she's known, thinks that gives her a unique perspective: (6)
"What I have that works for me is, I'm Mom. So when they come in,
they feel the same strict but loving environment that they feel at home. So it's like, 'OK, we can smile, we
can laugh, we can joke, but we know this is serious business. We know that this is what is expected of our
behavior.' It's the same thing with Mom. We may laugh and joke and play – we may even be disrespectful
– but we know, at the end of the day, we need to bring it back in. We have a job to do." (7)
Many of Gudger's students struggle with the daily challenges of poverty. Some have experienced violence
and trauma. So she tries to be flexible. A student falling asleep, for example, shouldn't always be taken as
an affront. It may indicate trouble at home: (8)
"Some of them are so on edge that they literally do not sleep at night. So, if you need a break ... if you're
comfortable enough here to put your head down, Baby, by all means rest." (9)
1
Suspension: a punishment in which students are required to stay home from school
Detention: a punishment in which a student is required to stay at school after the rest of the students have left
(learnersdictionary.com)
2
Shaka Greene, math teacher
Greene is also a veteran teacher who, like many of his students,
grew up in poverty. (10)
He says, "I watched my mother work multiple jobs to make sure
we ate. There were times I went to school with holes in my shoes.
So I get it. That is why I am as hard on them as I am, because I
know your circumstances don't matter as much as your will and
desire to be successful." (11)
Greene says he struggles sometimes to find the balance between
showing his students love and preparing them for the world. (12)
Greene explains, "If you leave high school and you still make a
600 on the SAT,3 nobody cares how much you were loved.
Congratulations, you feel good about yourself. But you're still
reading, writing and counting below average. And I am now a
Google exec. And I don't want below average. I want the best of
the best." (13)
Greene's passion is chess. He runs the most popular after-school club at Ron Brown: chess club. And in
the game, he sees a metaphor for these young men: (14)
"The key to chess, really the soul of the game of chess, are your pawns. If I'm able to get my pawn all the
way to your last rank, this pawn can become any piece on the board that I want it to become other than a
king or another pawn. Once you learn to value your pawns, you really start to learn to understand and
grow at the game of chess." (15)
Our yearlong reporting project, "Raising Kings, A Year Of Love And Struggle At Ron Brown College
Prep," concludes next week on the Code Switch podcast and on npr.org.
Illustrations by LA Johnson.
3
The SAT (Scholastic Aptitude Test): A test that students take to get into U.S. Colleges. 600 is a very low score. The highest
possible score is 2400.
Reading Questions
“They Can't Just Be Average': Lifting Students Up Without Lowering the Bar”
1. What does Ms. Gudger teach? Who are her students? How old are they?
2. Why is Ms. Gudger strict with her students? (¶5)
3. How does Ms. Gudger’s identity as a woman give her a “unique perspective” at the school? (¶6-7)
4. What does Mr. Greene teach? Who are his students? How old are they?
5. How does Mr. Greene’s own childhood affect his approach to teaching? (¶10-11)
6. What are the major techniques/practices Ms. Gudger uses to inspire + engage her students? What about Mr.
Greene?
Text #3 (from PBS video clip): Read the transcript of a video segment below. You can see the 5-minute video by following the
link at the end of this transcript or by logging on to Canvas—there is a link there under Unit #3
“How a hands-on high school veterinary program is enriching Navajo students”
By Lisa Stark
Educator Clyde McBride of Monument Valley
High School in Kayenta, Arizona
JUDY WOODRUFF: Now: a classroom innovation called career and technical education, a hands-on
learning method for high school students. It is seen as a practical approach for both those headed to
college and for those who are not. And in the Navajo Nation in Arizona, it’s making a difference. PBS
special correspondent Lisa Stark of our partner Education Week brings us this story as part of our weekly
segment Making the Grade. (1)
LISA STARK: This is a one-of-a-kind classroom, with a one-of-a-kind educator, Clyde McBride. (2)
CLYDE MCBRIDE, Kayenta Unified School District: My philosophy is a kid don’t learn unless they get
a little dirty. (3)
LISA STARK: So, in Clyde McBride’s classes in Navajo Nation in Northeastern Arizona, students jump
right in. (3)
CLYDE MCBRIDE: You never hold with your hands. You hold with your forearm. (4)
STUDENT: The McBrides tell us, you know, go in there. You’re not going to learn anything if you just
kind of stand back and just watch anything. (5)
LISA STARK: This is hands-on instruction in veterinary science, part classroom, part veterinary clinic.
Students work and observe in two operating rooms, one for small animals, the other for large. They
conduct exams and vaccinations in a state-of-the-art $2.4 million facility, part of Monument Valley High
School in Kayenta, Arizona, and its career and technical education program; 180 students, more than a
quarter of the high school, have signed up for this program, where abstract concepts meet the real world.
(6)
CLYDE MCBRIDE: Before they go to surgery, ketamine puts them to sleep. It is an anesthesia. And it’s
calculated by the millimeter per pound. (7)
In a math class, you get the problem wrong, you miss that question. In my program, if you get that math
problem wrong, that animal can die. (8)
LISA STARK: McBride grew up around animals on a ranch in Arizona. He lost his father at age 16 and
figured he’d forgo college to stay home and take care of the cattle. His mother had other ideas. (9)
CLYDE MCBRIDE: I will never forget going home one day and she says: “We’re going to sign papers.
I just sold the ranch. You have got to go to college.” (10)
LISA STARK: He became a teacher and, longing for a rural district, jumped at the job in Kayenta. (11)
CLYDE MCBRIDE: When I came up here, some of my peer teachers were like, why go to the
reservation? That’s going to be the worst place that you ever go to. Our school is 98 percent on the free
and reduced lunch program. A lot of our communities are very, very poor. (12)
LISA STARK: But that hasn’t slowed McBride, or stopped him from dreaming big. (13)
ELISSA MCBRIDE (Ag Teacher, Monument Valley High + Mr. McBride’s wife): When Mr. McBride
and I first started dating, we would go out to eat dinner and he would draw on napkins his vision of the
agro-science center. And I would tell him all the time, “you’re crazy. People don’t invest money like this
in education, especially in Native American children.” (14)
CLYDE MCBRIDE: I wouldn’t accept “no” as an answer. (15)
LISA STARK: It took decades to turn his dream into a reality. A new superintendent found the funding,
and students helped with the design. The Ag (Agro-science) Center opened its doors opened in 2011. This
program prepares students for careers and college and much more. (16)
DR. SUZANNE SMITH (Native American Veterinary Services): It’s to get the community and the kids
and the students and their parents involved in a better lifestyle and better health for themselves, for their
animals, and making better career choices and making better life choices. (17)
LISA STARK: And it’s working. Students in the veterinary science program do better than the state
average on math and English tests; 100 percent of them graduate high school, and three-quarters of them
go on to college or training programs. The rest go on to a job, numbers that would be impressive
anywhere, but especially for Native American students, who post the lowest graduation rates of any racial
or ethnic group. (18)
CLYDE MCBRIDE: We ignite the fire. We give them that passion. We give them that leadership. And
then whatever route they want to choose, then we support that route. (19)
PRESHES PARRISH-BEGAY (Senior, Monument Valley High): They made sure I didn’t fall off track.
They made sure I didn’t — I didn’t do anything to ruin my chances of going somewhere. (20)
SHELIA YENCHICK (Graduate, Monument Valley High): I didn’t really have that much motivation
from my parents, but here, the kids, they really have a lot of that from the teachers and the community.
They really help them a lot, and then they reach their goals. (21)
LISA STARK: The program has enriched the students and their community. With the nearest vet hours
away, this is the go-to clinic for the animals and livestock families here depend on. Animals are
considered a sacred part of the Navajo culture. (22)
MYRON HUDSON (Senior, Monument Valley High): In my culture, it’s like, if you take care of the
animals, they take care of you. (23)
LISA STARK: McBride’s goal is to launch his students on to college or good jobs. Many hope to come
back to serve their community.
CLYDE MCBRIDE: The Navajo belief, and really the way I was raised, is you want to leave this world
better than you found it. And I can tell you that that’s what I took into this program. And when I leave
Kayenta some day, it’s going to be better off than when I came.
LISA STARK: I’m Lisa Stark of Education Week for the PBS News Hour.
Watch the 5 minute video clip by copying and pasting the link below or by logging on to our Canvas page
and clicking the link there: http://www.pbs.org/newshour/bb/hands-high-school-veterinary-programenriching-navajo-students/
Reading Questions “How a hands-on high school veterinary program is enriching Navajo students”
1. What does Mr. McBride teach? Who are his students (+ where)? How old are they?
2. What is meant by “hands on instruction” (¶6) Give an example of the hands on instruction that the students do in
Mr. McBride’s program.
3. Mr McBride says “Our school is 98 percent on the free and reduced lunch program” (¶12). What does that
tell you about the students he teaches?
4. What are some of the benefits of the Ag Center Program? (¶16-19)
5. What do students Preshes Parrish Begay and Shelia Yenchick have to say about Mr. McBride and his program?
6. What technique(s) does Mr. McBride implement that make him a great teacher?
Text #4 (From NPR [National Public Radio])
Students 'Stand and Deliver' For Former Teacher
March 9, 2010 (Karen Grigsby Bates of NPR)
The lawn in front of Garfield High School in East Los Angeles was sodden from the morning's rain. But the
weather didn't dampen the enthusiasm of many Garfield graduates, who came from all over Los Angeles and
beyond to show their support for their former teacher, Jaime Escalante. (1)
Escalante's former students recently learned he is in the end stages of bladder cancer that has spread throughout his
body. The medical costs have depleted Escalante's savings, and the students are determined to help out. (2)
(Jaime Escalante is seen here teaching math at Garfield High School in Los Angeles in March 1988. Many of Escalante's former students are
raising money to help pay for their teacher's medical costs as he battles bladder cancer.)
'Barrio Kids'
To the astonishment of the outside world, Escalante taught many of these returning graduates math — advanced
math, like trigonometry and calculus. (3)
Garfield educates some of Los Angeles' poorest students, many of them from immigrant families, and many of
whom never conceived of college as a possibility. But Escalante did. (4)
The Bolivian-born teacher believed math was the portal to any success his students could achieve later in life. So
before school formally began, and after school ended, his door was open for extra help. (5)
Not only was Mr. Escalante a dedicated, tireless teacher, he also pushed his students to work hard and challenge
themselves. The students came on weekends and worked through holidays to prepare for the hardest exam of all —
the Advanced Placement calculus exam. "It was hard," says Mark Baca, who now works with a Los Angeles
nonprofit. "But he changed the minds of people all over the world about barrio kids." (6)
Escalante's barrio kids became stars, exemplars of what can happen when knowledge-thirsty kids with ganas — a
deep desire — to succeed combine with a dedicated teacher with ganas for their success. (7)
"Everything we are, we owe to him," says Sandra Munoz, an attorney who specializes in workers' rights and
immigration cases in East Los Angeles. She was not originally an Escalante student. (8)
"But that's what he'd do," she says. "He'd see someone and decide they needed to be in his class. So he pulled me
out my sophomore year and put me in his class, and I took math with him. He would teach anybody who wanted to
learn — they didn't have to be designated gifted and talented by the school." (9)
Munoz's cousin also ended up an Escalante student, and he was still learning English. (10)
(At the Garfield fundraiser, former students, parents and community members pen fond messages to the teacher the kids nicknamed "Kimo,"
a play on The Lone Ranger's moniker Kemosabe.)
After-Hours Tutoring
Escalante tutored his students until late at night, piled them into his minivan and brought them home to their
parents, who trusted Escalante in ways they never would other teachers. (11)
"My mother used to stay up," says Arícelí Lerma, an attorney. "Not to check up on him, but to bring him a plate of
food because she knew how hard he was working!" (12)
Escalante, whose students mischievously nicknamed him "Kimo" (a play on The Lone Ranger's Kemosabe
moniker), would not only work with his students until they were all ready to drop from exhaustion, he employed
them in the summers as tutors. And he showed them that the best colleges in the country were not beyond their
reach. (13)
Lerma reels off a partial list of where she and other Escalante students from the class of 1991 went: Occidental,
Harvard, Stanford, Dartmouth, MIT, Wellesley. (14)
Dolores Arredondo, who is now a bank vice president, went to Wellesley. She said that one year, Escalante
appeared at the Pachanga celebration for Latino students that the Ivy League and Seven Sisters colleges held on the
East Coast. It was a home-style Thanksgiving for those who couldn't afford to fly home. (15)
"Someone told me they'd asked Mr. Escalante to speak, and he did," Arredondo says. "Not only did he come, he
came with a suitcase full of tamales made in East L.A." A thoughtful taste of home for students who hadn't been
there in a while. (16)
Giving Back To 'Kimo'
Back at Garfield, more people stream onto the school's lawn to sign a big banner that will be sent to Escalante. He
is staying with his son, Jaime Jr., in Sacramento, Calif., so he can commute to Reno, Nev., for medical treatment.
(17)
As a Bolivian band plays in homage to Escalante's birth country, some people write checks or contribute cash. And
drivers and passers-by stuff money into buckets shaken by two Garfield mascots — 6-foot felt bulldogs. (18)
At the end of the day, the former students have raised almost $17,000, a sign that Escalante's kids and the
community he made so proud were ready to stand and deliver for him. (19)
Dolores Arredondo (left) and Alicia Barrera look over their 1991 yearbook from Garfield High School. "Even if you weren't his student, he
would always ask you, 'How're you doing in trig? What’s happening with your grades?'" Arredondo says.
Reading Questions for “Students Stand and Deliver for Former Teacher
1. What did Mr. Escalante teach? Who were his students (+ where)? How old were they? (¶3-4)
2. Mr. Escalante was a very dedicated teacher. Describe some of the ways he was dedicated to his students’
success? (¶5, 11, 13)
3. In the film Stand and Deliver and in the article (¶7), they say ganas is an important ingredient for success.
What does ganas mean and how does it play a role in both students and teachers?
4. In ¶13, the writer says, “he showed them that the best colleges in the country were not beyond their reach.”
What does this mean?
To see the complete film, watch it on Swank (through the CSM library website): http://collegeofsanmateo.edu/library/ (click on
“Swank,” a blue box on the bottom right corner). Then type Stand and Deliver into the search box.
Purchase answer to see full
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