Christopher Peak Photo
John S. Martinez School is so focused on social-emotional development, it’s almost like another subject — except that it’s built into every lesson they teach.
And now the numbers show the impact: a dramatic drop in the number of kids being sent to the principal’s office and a near-elimination of suspensions.
In 2012, using a recognized system known as Positive Behavioral Intervention and Supports (PBIS), teachers at the Fair Haven K‑8 school started focusing on how they can incentivize good behavior. Rather than spending time punishing those who are acting out, they recognize model students by awarding points and prizes.
Three years later the school added training sessions in restorative practices, which challenge students to take responsibility for their actions; and social-emotional learning (SEL), which fosters the development of life skills. More recently, the school has focused on recognizing the symptoms of trauma.
“So many students are coming into school without these life skills, and now it’s something that we’re able to effectively teach them,” said Jaime Coady, the school’s assistant principal.
“Going back seven years, we were looking at our behavior data and our suspensions. We had a climate where the office was full of kids all the time, getting tossed for anything from throwing a pencil to disrespecting the teacher and everything in between,” she explained. “Now, our bag of tricks is bigger. We teach explicit social skills through through SEL and restorative practices. The language has changed, the way we deal with conflict has changed, the way we’re speaking to kids has changed.”
As the philosophy shifted, the school’s numbers moved. In the 2011-12 school year, before the overhaul, teachers sent students down to the office 282 times for a talking-to with the principal. In the first year with a new model, that number dropped by half, to 132 referrals. Last year, Martinez logged just 16 referrals.
Similarly, Martinez sent 41 students home from class for disciplinary reasons in 2011-12. Suspensions were halved in the first year, to 17. Last year, Martinez didn’t suspend a single student. With one suspension so far this year, Coady’s clear that they’re not completely off-limits, but they’re a last resort, rather than a go-to.
“Focus”
Jaime Coady, Diane Mitchell and Kimberly Orifice, the educators at Martinez behind an overhaul in discipline.
Those changes seemed to translate into academics, too. Martinez, a predominantly Hispanic elementary school in Fair Haven where over two-thirds of the students come from low-income families, had been designated as a “focus school” by the state. That’s because math scores among its high-needs students contributed to an achievement gap. This year, after notching major gains, Martinez exited the watch list.
“We’re meeting the children’s needs on two levels: There’s more instructional time and they’re getting more out of their instructional time,” said Diane Mitchell, a math teacher for third, fourth and fifth graders. “And we’re seeing them walk away with a lot of life skills. A few students struggle, like they don’t know how to share or express their feelings. We look at them a few years down the road and see drastic changes.”
Across the district, New Haven’s public schools have tried to come up with “well-rounded” plans for focusing on students’ social and emotional development, said William Clark, the district’s chief operating officer. Usually, the plans include a behavioral model, restorative practices and recognition of trauma, but what distinguishes Martinez is the rigor of the implementation.
“Martinez represents a school that has taken these various pieces and resources and best practices and really put them into action across the school,” Clark said. “With full buy-in of staff, students and parents they have been able to develop a positive school climate that is truly focused on the whole child, the whole school, and the whole community.”
It’s one that the district is looking to as a model that can be “studied, scaled and replicated in an effort to seek similar academic gains and positive school climate,” he added.
Popcorn & PBIS
SOAR: Martinez’s in-house model for social skills.
Getting there wasn’t always smooth. At first, team members exhausted themselves trying to ingrain the PBIS model with over-the-top rewards. The teachers hosted outdoor activities in Chapel Park, passed out huge batches of popcorn, faced off against students in a soccer match or took them out for lunch.
“We were trying to come up with things every month, tailored to different age groups,” Keeney said. “We struggled initially trying to figure out what could we do that was sustainable and affordable for the school as incentives.”
The team tweaked the model by personalizing the points system to make sure it’s not the same well-behaved children who’re recognized every week. They allow students who are right on the cusp to participate in weekly rewards, even if they don’t get the full prize.
And they also came up with the idea of making extra points available to students who struggle to complete basic tasks. Even on rough days, some students recognize they’re falling behind. They often ask Mitchell, “I know I didn’t earn it yet, but I can still turn it around, right?” She tells them, “Absolutely, you can always turn your day around.”
While most picked up on the difference in their students’ behavior, a handful of educators hesitated to adopt PBIS in their classrooms.
Some of them misunderstood the change, thinking that they were being asked to let kids get away with acting out. “One of the misconceptions with PBIS is that you’re praising them all the time,” Keeney said. “You’re actually holding them accountable, showing there’s consequences for good and negative behavior.”
To get the holdouts engaged, Coady tried a model of PBIS with the staff, offering incentives to the teachers themselves, like gift cards, free lunch or a prime parking spot.
As time went on, with consistency from teachers, the PBIS model became part of the school’s culture.
“Change takes time. We needed a good five years to see the benefits,” Coady said. “Don’t think that after the first year, if you don’t see change, dump it. It’s consistency. Every summer we tweaked it: How do we freshen it up? How do we keep it relevant to the kids? How do we keep the staff inspired? What can we do differently?”
Referee, Not Judge
Signs throughout Martinez list questions to ask when a restorative practice is needed.
Kimberly Orifice, the science teacher for third, fourth and fifth grade, said she now often tries to stay out of disputes. She acts less like a judge deciding who’s right and who’s wrong, than like a referee making sure there’s no low blows. “This is your conflict: How are you going to solve it?” she said. “Don’t look at me; look at one another.”
Keeney’s noticed that students are more likely to work out problems themselves. While her first-graders used to tattle on each other, they now talk about how they feel and sometimes realize a perceived slight was just a misunderstanding.
“Sometimes, it’s something so innocent. ‘Well, I didn’t realize it was your pencil. I found it on the floor,’” Keeney gave as an example. “We’re trying to teach them to become problem-solvers on their own and make them more independent.”
Mitchell has even heard some of her students use the same prompts from teachers’ restorative practices: How did it make you feel? Why? What would you change?
“it gives each of them a chance to talk, both parties involved, and really listen to what the other person says, rather than trying to talk over one another,” she explained.
Even the teachers started to change the way they talked about behavior they expected. Running in the hallways wasn’t flat-out prohibited; staff explained why the rule had been put in place. “Running in the hallway makes me nervous that you’re going to hurt yourself,” Coady offered, as an example. “It’s really about deescalating in interactions with the kids.”
Along the way, Martinez teachers have developed a deeper understanding of how circumstances at home affect a student’s behavior in their classroom. Through professional development sessions with Clifford-Beers Clinic, they’ve learned to recognize what trauma looks like in a child.
“We’ve realized over the years, we just can’t take anything for granted. We can’t take for granted that kids have social skills, that their homes are like what we’ve been raised in,” Coady said. “They’re different, and we have to adapt to meet those needs.”