Yuri and Patrick: 2 Faces of State's Troubled Schools : Education: One district is affluent, the other is impoverished. But both pupils' families cherish learning.

By SANDY BANKS and STEPHANIE CHAVEZ

Oct. 30, 1993 12 AM PT

TIMES EDUCATION WRITERS

Ten-year-old Yuri de Paz wakes up each morning in a cramped Pico-Union apartment she shares with eight other family members, and walks to school through a Los Angeles neighborhood that is so dangerous that police have barricaded it to keep drug dealers out.

More than 400 miles away, in the Northern California town of Palo Alto, 9-year-old Patrick McKowan eats a homemade pancake breakfast, then sets off for his campus along quiet streets with names such as Oberlin, Yale and Princeton.

These are two faces of California’s 5.2-million-student public school system--once hailed as among the nation’s best but now at the center of the most closely watched education debate in the country.

Proposition 174--the school voucher initiative on Tuesday’s ballot--has prompted unprecedented scrutiny of the performance of California’s public schools, with the election’s outcome portrayed as a referendum on an education system caught between reform-minded goals, overwhelming student needs and tough fiscal realities.

“I think if it passes, it would be the shot heard ‘round the world,” said Allan Odden, a University of Wisconsin education professor who is considered a national expert on public schools. “It would mean enough people have decided that the situation in the public schools has gotten so complicated in California, they are willing to give up . . . out of frustration.”

A look at the performance of the state’s public school students offers plenty to be frustrated about. California’s fourth-graders scored last among the 50 states in reading and math. More students drop out here than in all but eight states. College-bound high school seniors score nine points lower than the national average in reading on SAT exams.

But in the war of statistics, test scores alone cannot be used to grade the performance of the state’s public schools. Equally compelling are statistics such as these: More than 1 million children--one-fifth of public school students--speak little or no English, one in four lives in poverty, and one in 10 has a disability requiring expensive special education services.

Indeed, the state’s 7,600 public schools face a broader array of challenges than those of any state, yet California has the second-largest class size in the country and spends less on its public schools than all but 10 states--more than $1,000 less per child than the national average.

In recent years, budget cuts have forced many of the state’s school districts to do away with such things as music lessons and art classes, and reduce spending on libraries, nursing services and teacher training.

Leo Politi Elementary, where Yuri de Paz is a fourth-grader, is among the newest campuses in the 650-school Los Angeles Unified School District, the nation’s second-largest school system.

More than 80% of Politi’s 850 students speak little or no English, and 92% are from families so poor they qualify for free breakfasts and lunches. On standardized math and reading tests--which are administered in Spanish--Politi’s first- and second-graders do worse than 70% of the nation’s Spanish-speaking students. By fourth grade, however, their scores have risen dramatically--only 40% of the nation’s students are outperforming them.

Patrick McKowan’s school, Escondido Elementary, is on the campus of Stanford University and is part of the Palo Alto Unified School District, one of the richest of the state’s 1,000 school districts. There are 20 languages spoken on campus, and most Escondido students score in the top quarter in state and national tests.

Although Yuri and Patrick come from backgrounds that are worlds apart, their families share similar values that promote a reverence for education and close family ties. What separate them are the resources, both at home and school, available to help them succeed.

In inner-city Los Angeles, in a neighborhood considered a port of entry for immigrants, students’ needs that cannot be met at home have overwhelmed the system. Children often come to school hungry and sick and go home to neighborhoods racked by drive-by shootings, where they risk their lives by playing outside.

The schoolchildren of Palo Alto play in the streets without fear. Their neighborhoods are home to highly educated professionals from around the world, many of whom have ties to one of the most prestigious universities in the nation. Their affluence allows them the freedom to assist their schools--from teaching noontime art classes to raising money for extras such as elaborate playground equipment.

While Yuri is learning to write a declarative sentence in English, Patrick is working on “strengthening his interpersonal skills,” so that he can benefit from the group learning approach his school emphasizes. Yuri’s teacher hopes to raise her academic standing so that she is only half a year behind grade level; Patrick’s teacher says measurable skills are not as important as making him a “lifelong learner.”

To illustrate the diversity of challenges that public educators face--and the difficulty of passing judgment on California’s schools--The Times spent a day with these two fourth-graders from very different campuses.

The sun is just beginning to shine on the rain-slicked sidewalks of Palo Alto when Patrick sets off to walk the four blocks from his home to Escondido Elementary.

His backpack slung over his shoulder, Patrick makes his way alone through the mist, along quiet, empty streets lined with sycamore trees. He passes a melange of homes, including an imposing, newly built Tudor-style mansion bearing a “For Sale” sign and $749,000 price tag that sits wedged between tiny Spanish-style bungalows and nondescript apartments housing Stanford graduate students.

It is 7:45 a.m.--half an hour before school is to start--when Patrick arrives on the Escondido campus, a sprawling eight-acre complex that includes a playground, soccer field, vegetable garden and several clusters of spacious classrooms.

Inside Classroom 17, the lights are on. Patrick greets teacher Keith Libert, who is laying out citizenship awards on the desks of his 26 students.

Libert has taught for five years at Escondido--a school known among Palo Alto parents not so much for its academic standing as for the diversity of its students and the creativity and commitment of its staff.

Escondido has more minority and non-English-speaking students than any of Palo Alto’s 11 elementary schools. It ranks near the bottom in test scores--although it is well above the statewide average in every test category. Its student transiency rate is nearly 50%, primarily because so many of its pupils are the children of Stanford graduate students.

When the bell rings at 8:15, the children begin trickling in and quietly take their seats. Libert claps his hands to call the class to order and they begin the daily ritual of applauding each student who has finished a book.

Reading is a big thing in Mr. Libert’s class. Every wall in the spacious classroom is lined with bookshelves full of neatly stacked volumes such as “Island of the Blue Dolphin.” There are no spelling tests, but for homework each night every child must read for 20 minutes and make a list of unfamiliar words.

Escondido students are expected to be able to speak and write creatively. Every lesson from math to art is accompanied by a writing assignment, and there is “sharing” time in Patrick’s class each day, when the children take turns speaking out about whatever is on their minds.

Every child must give an oral report on his or her family’s journey to California. Today is Patrick’s turn, and he brings his mother, who holds up a giant map as he traces the path her family took from Seattle 40 years ago.

Later, in small reading groups, even little Yoko, who only speaks Japanese, participates with translation provided by her classmate Chieko, who came to the school from Japan two years ago and has learned enough English to communicate.

Escondido has many foreign students, but classes are taught only in English, through a “mini-immersion” program. Students are removed from class for 1 1/2 hours three times a week to work with language specialists in small groups to learn English. They are assigned adult tutors who speak their language and visit their classes to translate lessons.

At lunchtime, Patrick--a vegetarian who eschews cafeteria meals in favor of his mother’s cheese or egg salad sandwiches--eats among friends at the outdoor lunch tables. Nearby, the playground’s brightly colored swings, slides and climbers--purchased in part with donations from the Parent-Teacher Assn.--are full of noisy children.

The Escondido PTA raises about $20,000 each year with its carnival, T-shirt sales and grocery promotions--far less than the $80,000 raised by some schools in Palo Alto, where the average family income exceeds $72,000 and the median home price is $400,000.

The relative wealth of the school district shows in every room on campus, from the well-stocked library, with its full-time librarian and a dozen computers, to the classrooms, which have their own televisions, VCRs, overhead projectors and giant pull-down maps.

Patrick has thrived in Libert’s class. There are no report cards at Escondido--teachers send parents narrative reports on their children’s progress, rather than assign students letter grades. So it is hard to chart his academic growth.

But the boy who came to Libert with a reputation among teachers as a “handful”--an independent child who was inclined to go his own way rather than follow class rules and timetables--has blossomed into a thoughtful student with a flair for expression.

After school, Patrick walks home with friends and is greeted by his father, Chris McKowan, who dishes up an after-school snack--a grilled cheese sandwich--then challenges his son to a game of baseball outside their home.

His parents--both mental health counselors--have arranged their work schedules so one is home each day when Patrick and his 14-year-old sister arrive from school.

“Financially, it’s a struggle,” said his mother, Mary Ann Small, who grew up in Los Angeles and moved her family to Northern California from Long Beach five years ago, after her husband lost his job with a printing firm.

They rent a small home in a neighborhood where it seems “like everybody has money,” she said. But the neighbors are friendly and the school is good and there are lots of boys nearby for Patrick to swap baseball cards and play street hockey with.

“When we first moved here, people said ‘Palo Alto schools aren’t that great; it’s just the gene pool’--you know, smart people have smart children,” she said. “But we’ve been real happy here.”

That same search for a better life brought the family of Yuri de Paz to Los Angeles from El Salvador more than a decade ago.

In this dense, gritty neighborhood southwest of Downtown--one of the city’s most notorious drug-dealing centers--Yuri and her grandmother set off at 7 a.m. for school, tiptoeing around a pack of roving street dogs.

In decades past, South Magnolia must have been a grand avenue, flanked by large Victorian homes behind broad front lawns. Now, the yards are fenced, windows are barred, and the houses divided into apartments for families, mainly Central American immigrants.

Leo Politi Elementary School opened three years ago to relieve crowding at two nearby schools. It is the pride of this beleaguered community.

On this nippy fall morning, Yuri is one of 430,000 students in Los Angeles public schools to exchange her federally subsidized meal ticket for a boxed breakfast of two hot pancakes, milk and orange juice. These free breakfasts and lunches are the primary source of nutrition for students like Yuri.

Joan Austin, Yuri’s teacher, who has spent her 20-year teaching career at two elementary schools in the Pico-Union area, chooses to teach inner-city students because “they need so much and everything I do is so greatly appreciated.”

Her classroom is bursting with fall colors, part of Austin’s years-old stockpile of supplies she made or purchased with her own money: homemade posters, pumpkins and ghost cutouts, dried foliage and a few luxuries such as a hamster cage, a small plastic skeleton and a glass container of beetle larvae.

Beneath the teacher’s desk blotter is a memo describing “What to Do in Case of Civil Disorder,” directing students to duck and seek cover at the sound of gunfire.

Three years ago, Yuri spoke little English and was one of the state’s more than 1 million public school students who are classified as limited-English speakers. In her three years at Leo Politi she has spent half of each day learning English and half studying math, science and geography in Spanish.

Now she knows enough to have earned a new label: “transitional English student.” All her instruction is in English, but her textbooks are in Spanish.

Like many students learning English, Yuri has particular problems with verb tenses and spelling. She describes a scary Halloween tale like this: “We weor reri to fiat and then we fiat. We wind them.” In pencil, not red ink, Austin had corrected the sentences: “We were ready to fight. Then we fought. We won.”

Thousands of students like Yuri who are learning English score poorly on standardized state tests after submitting writing samples. But what the tests do not measure is what Austin calls Yuri’s steady progress, intense pride in her work, and eagerness in class.

For Austin, the challenge is to set goals for Yuri that promote continued achievement without bearing down so hard on her deficiencies that the child’s enthusiasm is squashed.

Once each week, Austin takes her class to Politi’s library. But the librarian’s desk is empty, a result of budget cuts four years ago that eliminated librarians from elementary schools.

Politi hired an aide to staff the library, but he is absent on this day. So Yuri and her classmates choose books mainly by looking at the cover pictures.

The students are allowed to take out one book a week to their class. Library books cannot go home because there are so few; the school cannot afford to risk lost or damaged volumes.

On the sidewalk outside the school, mothers of Politi students have piled used clothes, part of a rummage sale to raise money for field trips. Last year they earned $800, enough to take the children to visit a farm.

Back in the classroom, Austin, who does not speak Spanish, is on her own with her 32 students. Her three-hour-a-day bilingual aide has left. Austin organizes the class into clusters of four students and roves between the groups, which share dictionaries and practice making glossaries.

Yuri’s grandmother is waiting at the schoolyard gate when the dismissal bell rings. At home in her family’s two-bedroom apartment, Yuri begins her half-hour’s worth of homework. The kitchen table also serves as a desk for her and four siblings.

Yuri’s parents, Jose de Paz, a $7.50-an-hour welder, and Rosa de Paz, who works in a nursing home for $4.60 an hour, run the household with a firm hand. No television until homework is complete. No playing outside because the streets are too dangerous. The family eats dinner together each evening at 5.

Jose de Paz points with pride to a row of small trophies on a living room shelf. Although Yuri and her siblings do not score No. 1 in the class in math, reading and science, they are big winners for perfect school attendance.

Even more prominently displayed is a 1988 set of the World Book Encyclopedia--$1,000 worth of volumes that stand as a symbol of the family’s commitment to the education of the children.

“It was very difficult to save the money. But I will do anything I can if it will help my children learn,” Paz says in Spanish, explaining that he has little formal education. “I push them to do homework. I push them to go to class. School is everything to us.”

Grading the Schools

Here is a look at public schools in California. Of every 100 students:

* 23 live below the poverty level.

* 21 do not speak English fluently.

* 7 live in families in which child abuse has been suspected.

* 10 have learning or physical disabilities.

ACADEMICS

* SAT SCORES: A higher percentage of California students--47% of 1993 graduates--are taking the SAT exam than the national average. But California ranks 34th in the nation with a 415 verbal average and 484 math average.

* ADVANCED PLACEMENT: California’s high school students did better than the national average in success on the Advanced Placement tests for college. Twenty-one percent of the state’s high school students received passing marks on the exams in June, compared to the national average of 15%. The state’s 21% rate is nearly three times the 7.2% of students who passed the test in 1984.

* FOURTH-GRADE READING: California children tied with Mississippi for last place, according to the National Assessment of Educational Progress. California scored lowest of all 50 states (ahead of only the District of Columbia) in math proficiency.

* HIGH SCHOOL GRADUATION: Since 1986, the dropout rate has declined. However, California still ranks 42nd in the percentage of its students who graduate. A total of 67.7% of those who started ninth grade in 1986-87 graduated in 1990-91.

MISCELLANY

* LIBRARIES: Half of all California school libraries have closed in the last decade. The state ranks last in the nation in number of librarians per student and 43rd in the number of library books. California’s school library system has deteriorated to the point that the American Library Assn. recently called it the nation’s worst.

* PRIVATE SCHOOLS: Public school teachers send their children to private schools at a higher rate than all parents statewide--18% versus 9.7% of parents statewide, according to the California State Census Data Center.

Sources: California Dept. of Education, U.S. Dept. of Education, National Assessment of Educational Progress.

Two Schools at a Glance

Here are profiles of two schools that reflect the diversity of California’s public school system.

LEO POLITI ELEMENTARY SCHOOL LOS ANGELES UNIFIED SCHOOL DISTRICT

* District size: 640,000 students

* District budget: $3.9 billion

* School enrollment: 850

* Ethnicity: 94% Latino, 4% Asian-American, 1% black, 1% white.

* Average class size: 32

* Average per pupil spending: $3,900

ESCONDIDO ELEMENTARY SCHOOL PALO ALTO UNIFIED SCHOOL DISTRICT

* District size: 8,000 students