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Article 2 of 11-Part Series

Thurgood Marshall's Identity Crisis
By David Gelles

SAN FRANCISCO — Thurgood Marshall Academic High School is an institution on the brink of success. Its test scores have risen for four straight years, a new administration and additional teachers have energized the campus, and a refurbished building, with more upgrades scheduled, has provided visible proof of the palpable optimism.

But as it reaches new heights, administrators say the Bayview-Hunters Point school is on the brink of abandoning the historically black community it was meant to serve. In response, Thurgood Marshall is scrambling to meet the needs of increasingly alienated African-American students.

"The makeup of the school is different than it was six years ago, and that's not necessarily a good thing," said Amy Bloodgood, an administrator and former teacher who has been at the school for six years. "The goal of this school was to serve the African-American community and make them college-ready. But the community has changed, and we haven't redefined our mission."

Educators have long understood that high achieving minority students do better if other high achievers of their own race surround them. With this in mind, Thurgood Marshall opened its doors in 1994 to serve Bayview-Hunters Point students.

But in the last six years, African-American enrollment in the school has plunged. Five years ago, blacks made up 30 percent of the student body, with Asians representing about 40 percent. Today, Asians make up 55 percent of the student body, with blacks representing only 22 percent.

During this time, the test scores of African-Americans at Thurgood Marshall have also declined, even as overall test scores at the school are on the rise.

"It's the achievement gap," said Thurgood Marshall's principal, Paul Cheng, who until this year ran Lowell High School, the city's premier public high school. "It exists at this school, across the city, and across the country."

But nowhere in the state is that gap wider than in San Francisco, where black and Latino students lag well behind their white and Asian peers.

"It's on peoples' minds now more than ever," said Chalida Anusasananan, an English teacher in her third year at the school. "But I see this as a place where change is possible, where change is happening."

Anusasananan is a driving force for that change. She and seven other teachers are part of Project Impact, a nationwide effort to close the achievement gap. "One way is to start at the ninth grade and identify higher-achieving underrepresented kids," she said.

Last year, Anusasananan taught a high-achieving class that had only one African-American student in it. Isolated, that student faltered in class and let her grades slip. "You lose kids when they don't have a community in the classroom," Anusasananan said. "They notice race. It's huge."

So this year Anusasananan brought together a class that included four black freshmen girls who showed academic promise. The rest of the class, like the school, was mostly Asian.

Community may not be enough though. One of the girls, who just moved here from Texas, has become antisocial and let her grades slip. Two others spent much of the class talking loudly, distracting many of the other students. The fourth has gone missing altogether.

But the two girls who misbehaved most in class also showed plenty of promise. Between outbursts and constant jabber, they routinely delivered the correct answers to questions Anusasananan posed the class. "They know the material," Anusasananan said. "Some of them just don't have the organizational skills."

Gregory, a senior, is among the dwindling black population at the school. He said he's trying to pull his grades back up after slacking off for the last two years. "It has to do with the parenting and the neighborhoods," he said. "A lot of the Asians are living middle class lives. They go home and have support. But other kids go back home and don't have anything."

Six-foot-eight-inch Mike Travis has watched Thurgood Marshall change over the years. He graduated in 2001, and has returned to coach the basketball team. "Things are starting to look better," he said.

But the demographic shift is impossible for Travis, an African-American, to ignore. Although the school never had a majority black student body, Travis, like many, suggests blacks are more underrepresented than ever. "It used to be mostly black," he said. "Now it's more Asian. It did a flip flop."

The school's demographic shift reflects the changing neighborhood. Throughout Bayview-Hunters Point, more Asians are moving in as the black population recedes.

The demographic flux is likely to continue, and even accelerate, as the city moves ahead with plans to redevelop much of the neighborhood, including the Third Street corridor, which runs close to the school.

Thurgood Marshall hit rock bottom in October of 2002, when a fight in the halls drew a disproportionate police response. As many as 100 officers showed up, and a near riot ensued.

"That took the school to its knees," principal Cheng said. "It created an image problem."

More than an image problem, it threw the school into a turmoil from which it's only now beginning to recover. The school has had a constant stream of new administrators, and witnessed a steady exodus of teachers and students.

Even as Thurgood Marshall tries to attract new students, it must fight to keep those it has. Overall enrollment has dropped by 35 percent in the last five years, and African American enrollment has nearly halved.

Francisca, a freshman, said she hoped her first year at Thurgood Marshall would be her last. "I'm going to Lincoln next year. It's a better school."

On a brisk Thursday night recently, Thurgood Marshall hosted its first Eighth Graders Night, an event held by many city high schools to attract the best freshman prospects.

It was the first event in the school's newly refurbished auditorium. Construction crews had worked overtime to finish in time for the event, and the smells of fresh paint and sawdust filled the halls.

Inside, rows of polished wooden seats gleamed under elegant recessed lighting. Onstage, the Black Student Union performed a skit promoting academic achievement. The event was part of principal Paul Cheng's efforts to make Thurgood Marshall a school of choice, one that parents from around the city request their children attend.

But the event felt more like a pep rally than a recruiting event. Only a handful of prospective parents showed up, and few, if any, were black. Most in the audience were current students and staff.

Principal Cheng was dutifully optimistic. "There's a very good chance we can recover," he said. "We're not only recruiting students from public schools, we're recruiting from private as well."

But Cheng acknowledged that, for now at least, Thurgood Marshall is not yet a school of choice. "We'd like to have a waiting list eventually," he said. "But the parents and students have to take a chance."

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© 2006 UC Berkeley Graduate School of Journalism