The following was sent by a citizen who requested to not have their name published. It is being published exactly as sent.
I have spent a lot of time deciding whether to write this because I WANT to believe in Wilkes County Schools.
Some of us grew up here. Maybe things were better then, maybe we were lucky, or maybe we just happened to have teachers who knew us, pushed us and prepared us. Whatever it was, I want that for the kids here now.
But I’ve started asking questions.
Then I started reading.
Then I started talking to people.
Parents talk. Kids talk. Former employees talk. People who have worked or subbed inside these schools talk. Administrators talk. People involved in schedules talk.
And once enough people who aren’t necessarily talking TO each other start saying similar things, you start wondering whether you’re hearing isolated complaints or seeing a pattern.
Maybe there are good explanations.
I hope there are.
But the Board of Education needs to get ahead of these questions, because people are already having these conversations without you.
CAN OUR KIDS READ?
Let’s start there.
Wilkes County talks endlessly about economic development, workforce shortages, poverty, attracting businesses, keeping young families and developing future leaders.
Where exactly do we think those people come from?
They’re sitting in our classrooms RIGHT NOW.
Education IS economic development.
So I don’t just want to know graduation rates.
I want to know if the kids can read.
How are students reaching Washington-Wilkes Comprehensive High School years behind in literacy?
And I’m not just talking about special education students. What happens to the child who cannot read adequately but DOESN’T have an IEP?
They take i-Ready.
Okay.
Then what?
A diagnostic identifies a problem. It doesn’t fix one.
If a middle-school student is reading several years below grade level, who is directly teaching that child to read? How often? Using what intervention? Who is trained to provide it? What specific reading deficit is being addressed? How is progress monitored? What happens when the intervention DOESN’T work?
Parents hear:
“MTSS.”
“i-Ready.”
“Intervention.”
“Small group.”
“We’re monitoring.”
Fine.
WHAT ARE YOU ACTUALLY DOING?
Because an ordinary parent can Google struggling adolescent readers and find information about structured literacy, explicit instruction, intensive intervention and progress monitoring.
If we’re doing those things, TELL US.
If we’re not, WHY NOT?
A spreadsheet can tell you a child is drowning.
Eventually somebody has to get in the water.
IF THE ANSWER IS “WE DON’T HAVE ENOUGH PEOPLE,” THEN LET’S TALK ABOUT WHERE THE PEOPLE ARE.
When people question the Board Office, we’re not talking about the person answering the telephone.
We’re talking about the directors.
Coordinators.
Administrators.
Supervisors.
People overseeing, directing, coordinating and monitoring the people actually serving children.
Maybe every one of those positions is necessary.
SHOW US.
Put up the organizational chart. Salaries. Job descriptions. Responsibilities. Then tell taxpayers what measurable benefit each layer produces for students.
Because parents can SEE shortages in schools.
Teachers rotate.
Classes are crowded.
Intervention is stretched.
Special education is stretched.
Kids describe “small groups” that aren’t particularly small.
So if the classrooms are short on people while the administrative structure isn’t, taxpayers have a legitimate question:
Do we have a resource problem, or a resource-allocation problem?
That’s not attacking public education.
That’s oversight.
SPECIAL EDUCATION RAISES EVEN MORE QUESTIONS.
I have read enough about special education and talked to enough people to know that parents need to start asking better questions.
If an IEP says “small group,” ask HOW SMALL.
Ten-plus students may be smaller than a regular classroom. That doesn’t automatically make it individualized instruction.
If your child is in co-teaching, ask what co-teaching actually looks like.
Two teachers should mean shared responsibility. A special education teacher shouldn’t seem like a visitor in a class they’re supposedly co-teaching or routinely send every instructional question back to the general education teacher.
And if your child receives speech, OT, PT or consultative services, ask what those services ACTUALLY look like.
How often does the child see the provider?
Individual or group?
Direct or consultative?
What happens during that time?
What progress is being made?
If two related services occur simultaneously, ask how those minutes are delivered and documented. Are both providers actively providing their respective services? How is that time counted toward what is written in the IEP? How does simultaneous delivery support progress on two different needs?
Maybe there’s a perfectly appropriate explanation.
GIVE IT.
And “consultative” especially deserves explanation.
Who is consulting with whom?
About what?
How often?
What changes in the classroom because of that consultation?
If a teacher responsible for the student cannot explain what the consultative service involves, a parent is allowed to ask:
Were they actually consulted?
An IEP shouldn’t require detective work.
And what happens AFTER school matters too.
For students with more significant disabilities, are families being connected early enough with outside agencies, vocational rehabilitation, employment supports, adult services, independent-living resources and appropriate postsecondary options?
Are we teaching functional skills, communication, self-advocacy and independence?
Graduation should not feel like falling off a cliff.
For students with higher-incidence disabilities, the question is slightly different but just as important:
Are we preparing them to function independently, or just helping them survive school?
“Passed” isn’t the same as prepared.
“Graduated” isn’t the same as prepared.
PREPARED is the word I care about.
AND THERE ARE THINGS THAT HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH TEST SCORES.
Do students trust the adults in our schools?
Kids talk about adults getting involved in student drama.
They talk about group chats and electronic communication with adults.
That does NOT mean every story a teenager tells is true.
That’s exactly why clear professional boundaries matter.
What electronic communication with students is permitted? What platforms are approved? What’s archived? What can parents access? What are employees taught about electronic boundaries with minors?
Adults SHOULD build relationships with students.
Adults SHOULD mentor students.
But adults should not become participants in teenage social dynamics.
The adults are supposed to be the stable people.
Especially in a small county where everybody knows everybody, you’d think we’d know to be MORE careful about those boundaries, not less.
Then there’s safety.
How many parents have had a child come home saying:
“We were on lockdown today.”
And that’s the first they’ve heard about it?
Was it a drill? A real event? Was there danger? What happened?
Parents don’t need tactical information that compromises school security. They DO need to understand when and how the district communicates safety events.
Because information vacuums don’t stay empty in Wilkes County.
Kids fill them.
Facebook fills them.
Rumors fill them.
Then everybody gets upset because misinformation spreads.
Rumors thrive in silence.
AND SILENCE MAY BE THE PART THAT CONCERNS ME MOST.
Everybody talks.
Parents talk.
Kids talk.
Former employees REALLY talk.
People who have worked in these buildings in different capacities talk.
But some of the people closest to the children seem to say the least:
Current classroom teachers.
Some are new.
Some seem exhausted.
Some seem shell-shocked.
And some seem like they’ve learned that saying less is safer.
THAT should concern leadership.
I’ve talked to people who have left. People become considerably more candid once their paycheck isn’t connected to the organization.
That doesn’t mean every former employee is right.
But when unrelated people start describing similar problems, maybe LISTEN.
And ask current employees anonymously:
Do you have what you need to do your job?
Do you trust your administration?
Can you disagree professionally without worrying about consequences?
Do struggling students receive adequate intervention?
Are special education services adequately staffed?
Are concerns actually followed through on?
Does district-level administration make your job easier?
Do you plan to still work here in five years?
And the question I’d most like answered:
Would you put your own child in every school in this district?
Publish the results.
A healthy organization shouldn’t be afraid of its employees’ honest answers.
AND WHERE ARE THE PARENTS?
This part belongs to us.
There is an awful lot of yapping in Wilkes County about who “cares about the kids.”
The Board cares.
Administrators care.
Teachers care.
Parents care.
Everybody cares more than everybody else.
I’m tired of hearing it.
Caring is a verb.
Where are the packed Board meetings?
Where is the community forum about literacy?
Where are parents asking why their child is three years behind?
Where are the questions about intervention, staffing, special education, teacher turnover and spending?
And where are the parents asking what their child actually LEARNED instead of only asking why the teacher gave them a 72?
A parent invested in a grade asks:
“Why does my child have a 72?”
A parent invested in education asks:
“What doesn’t my child understand yet, and what are we doing about it?”
Raising a 72 to a 75 without raising the SKILL accomplished nothing.
SO WHERE IS THE COMMUNITY FORUM?
Not an awards ceremony.
Not another presentation about how wonderful everything is.
A REAL education forum.
Show us:
How many students are below grade level in reading?
How far behind are they?
What interventions are being used?
Are they working?
What happens when they don’t?
How many teachers are we losing?
How many SPED teachers?
How large are intervention and special education groups?
How are related services actually being delivered?
How are we preparing students with significant disabilities for adulthood?
How much are we spending on district administration versus direct student services?
What do anonymous teachers say?
What do anonymous STUDENTS say?
What are the policies governing adult/student electronic communication?
What is the communication protocol for lockdowns and other safety events?
Put the Board there.
Put district leadership there.
Let parents ask questions.
Let employees submit questions anonymously.
Let students submit questions anonymously.
Then ANSWER THEM.
No defensiveness.
No “that’s a school-level issue.”
No sending people in circles.
If you don’t know, find out and publish the answer afterward.
THAT would build trust.
AND YES, THE BOARD SHOULD FEEL SOME PRESSURE.
That’s not an attack.
That’s democracy.
You are elected to oversee a public school system.
You SHOULD feel pressure when children reach high school unable to read adequately.
You should feel pressure about teacher turnover.
You should feel pressure about special education staffing.
You should feel pressure when parents don’t understand how their child’s services are being delivered.
You should feel pressure when employees appear afraid to speak.
You should feel pressure when students question whether adults maintain appropriate boundaries.
You should feel pressure when parents repeatedly hear “lockdown” from their children before they hear anything from the school.
You should feel pressure when taxpayers look at the number of directors and coordinators while classrooms appear stretched thin and ask:
WHERE IS THE MONEY GOING?
That’s the job.
And if you want community involvement, make involvement realistic.
A 2:00 p.m. Board meeting may technically be public, but teachers are teaching and a whole lot of parents and taxpayers are WORKING.
Hold an evening forum.
Livestream it.
Invite the community.
Take questions.
Give employees a truly anonymous way to participate.
Ask students what they experience.
And listen.
Because here’s what I think leadership needs to understand:
People are already comparing notes.
Parents are.
Students are.
Former employees are.
People who have worked and subbed in the schools are.
Once people start comparing notes, isolated stories either fall apart…
…or they become patterns.
The Board should want to know which one it is BEFORE the community decides for itself.
I WANT to be proven wrong.
Show me excellent literacy intervention.
Show me appropriate staffing.
Show me that every administrative layer earns its place.
Show me special education services being delivered appropriately.
Show me students with disabilities being prepared for adulthood.
Show me teachers who feel safe speaking honestly.
Show me strong adult/student boundaries.
Show me clear safety communication.
Show me students who are actually learning.
I will happily eat every word.
Because this isn’t about catching somebody doing something wrong.
It’s about the kids getting what they need.
Some of us grew up here.
Some of us remember teachers here who changed our lives.
We want that for our children too.
We want a ninth grader to walk into Washington-Wilkes PREPARED to be a ninth grader.
We want an IEP to sound like it was written by people who actually KNOW the child.
We want a child who cannot read to get intensive help before somebody hands them a high-school schedule.
We want students with disabilities prepared for actual adult lives.
We want teachers who stay.
We want adults our kids can trust.
We want to know our children are safe.
We want questions answered without having to become investigators.
And we want families to WANT to stay in Wilkes County.
So enough with everybody telling us who cares the most.
PROVE IT.
Show the data.
Show the money.
Explain the services.
Ask the teachers.
Ask the students.
Listen to the parents.
Answer the questions.
And fix what isn’t working.
Because silence isn’t proof of success.
And there are enough people talking now that somebody in leadership should probably start listening.
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