In this politically charged era, there’s one thing both parties agree on: the benefits of high school career pathways. 

With strong bipartisan support, career and technical education programs are poised to be a centerpiece of education policy over the next few years — both federally and in California. That’s good news for students taking agriscience, cabinetry, game design and other hands-on courses that may lead to high-paying careers.

Education advocates hail this as a boon for high schools. Students enrolled in career training courses tend to have . And business leaders say that strong career education can boost a local economy.

But there are still many unknowns, and some education experts worry that an expansion of career education will come at the expense of college-preparation programs, or lead to a return to “tracking,” in which schools steer certain students — often low-income students — toward careers that tend to pay less than those that require college degrees.

“This could be a great opportunity for career and technical education, but we have to do it right,” said Andy Rotherham, co-founder of Bellwether, a nonprofit educational consulting organization. “There’s a lot at stake.”

Funding is a primary question mark. While Republicans strongly support career education, it’s unclear if that enthusiasm will translate to more money — especially if Congress eliminates the Department of Education, as President-elect Trump has vowed to do. 

Career education classes can be some of the most expensive programs in a school district. Supplies, up-to-date equipment, teacher training, smaller class sizes, operation costs and students’ certification exams can cost millions, and the costs only increase over time. Schools spend 20%-40% more to educate students in career programs than they spend on those who aren’t, .

Most federal funding for career education comes from a 1960s law meant to improve career education. But that funding has not kept up with the escalating costs. Last year Congress allotted $1.4 billion, which was distributed to states through grants. California received $142 million, and supplemented that with an additional $1 billion.

“It’s wonderful to see this bipartisan support, but we’d like it to lead to continued investment,” said Alisha Hyslop, chief policy, research and content officer at the Association for Career and Technical Education, an advocacy group. 

Career education and tracking

Career and technical education has waxed and waned since its inception in the early 20th century as a way to prepare students, usually from working-class or immigrant families, for jobs in skilled trades.

For decades, most high schools in the U.S. had some form of vocational education. Those programs came under scrutiny in the 1980s and ’90s as some complained about tracking practices that left many students without the option to attend a 4-year college because they hadn’t taken the required coursework.

Partly in response to that criticism, former President George W. Bush’s No Child Left Behind Act in the early 2000s encouraged schools to promote college for all students. As a result, many schools cut back their career education offerings and added more advanced academic classes.

Then the 2008 financial crisis hit. High unemployment coupled with the soaring cost of college led schools to revive their career training programs, but with less tracking. Schools started encouraging all students to take career education classes, and the classes themselves were updated. Welding and auto shop were joined by computer science, graphic design, environmental studies, health care and other fields. In California, students are encouraged to take a career pathway as well as the required classes for admission to public 4-year colleges, although last year only about 11% of students completed both, according to .

Welders vs. philosophers

Career and technical education is a focal point of , the conservative policy roadmap written by the Heritage Foundation as well as the Republican party education platform and President-elect Trump’s nominee for education secretary, Linda McMahon. McMahon headed a pro-Trump political action group called America First Action, whose policies include an  in K-12 schools. The Republican platform reads, “(We) will emphasize education to prepare students for great jobs and careers, supporting … schools that offer meaningful work experience.”

Sen. Marco Rubio, Trump’s nominee for Secretary of State, put it more succinctly: “Welders make more money than philosophers. We need more welders and less philosophers,” .

Career education has also been a priority for Democrats. In California, Gov. Gavin Newsom, State Superintendent of Public Instruction Tony Thurmond and the Legislature have all promoted career education. In 2022 Newsom created the Golden State Pathways program, a $470 million investment in high school career education, and followed up a year later with the , outlining a long-term vision. Newsom described it as “a game changer for thousands of students.”

In California, the goal is to , and tie pathways — sequences of two or three classes — to the local job market. For example, a  at a high school near the Port of Long Beach includes classes in global logistics and international business. A pathway at Hollywood High trains students for jobs in the entertainment industry. 

More ties to business?

But some educators worry about the fate of career education if the Department of Education, which administers the Perkins Act, is eliminated. Project 2025 suggests moving it to the Department of Labor, where it would likely have stronger ties to business and fewer ties to education organizations. That could impact whether pathway programs continue to have academic components, or include college preparation classes.

“Businesses love CTE because it socializes one of their big costs. Taxpayers are paying to train their workers,” said David Stern, education professor emeritus at UC Berkeley who’s an expert on career education. 

Hyslop shares that concern. 

“Certainly CTE has connections to the economy, but at its heart it’s an education program. It’s about preparing students for their future, whatever that future may be,” she said.

A broader question may be whether the push for career education is part of a backlash against college generally. College enrollment  for a decade, coinciding with a .

Meanwhile, Trump has proposed big cuts to higher education, and has often expressed disdain for what he described as colleges’ leftward tilt. Project 2025 calls for the government to place trade schools on equal footing with 4-year colleges.

“This new interest in CTE captures the anti-elitist sentiment of the time,” Stern said. He added that preparation for college does not have to conflict with preparation for careers, and some programs, such as the , prepare students for both. 

Rotherham agreed. “On the right, there’s definitely antagonism toward college,” he said.

But they both said regardless of the politics behind it, a national focus on career education could be transformative — if it doesn’t railroad students away from college opportunities. Ideally, students can gain career experience in high school, while also learning poetry and civics and other important academic subjects, Rotherham said.

“Power is having choices,” Rotherham said. “That’s what we want for kids. The option to change their mind if they want.”

This was originally published on .

But looks can be deceiving. Most weeks, this school sends students to work in high-rise offices, tech firms or a coding center it runs downtown.

In fact, the building’s past history as a neighborhood elementary school may be the only reminder of the big, comprehensive and often unsafe public high schools from which it’s often a refuge. 

Offering a dizzying array of internships, college courses and dual enrollment opportunities, Building 21 challenges nearly all of the conventional wisdom about what an urban public high school should do.

Unlike most urban high schools, Building 21 is small: Enrollment is capped at 400 students, with classes of just 25 or fewer.

It operates under a complex set of that stress the importance of relationships. When conflicts arise, teachers must help resolve them quickly, interfering as little as possible as students work things out. The school was among the first in Philadelphia to introduce so-called , an alternative to traditional — often harsh — school discipline. Instead of a lecture or suspension for misbehavior, students often find themselves deep in conversation about what happened, talking with teachers, counselors and classmates to get to the bottom of a conflict and resolve it. These practices, the school maintains, also teach problem-solving skills.

In operation for a decade, it also boasts something most Philadelphia schools don’t: a 94% graduation rate for the past two years. At last count, the district’s four-year graduation rate .

Nabeehah Parker, a 20-year veteran of the district, came to Building 21 in 2022 to run its partnership program. Her goal, she said, was to make it a place where students can have the same opportunities as students at selective schools.

To that end, the school offers a veritable revolving door of experts coming in to teach classes and students heading out for face-time with employers.

It features the kinds of risk-taking and experiences often reserved for students in elite schools. Yet it admits virtually anyone, with open-enrollment policies that match those of the city’s big neighborhood high schools.

Principal Ben Koch started out as a Spanish teacher here, building its world language program around a concept called “.” Instead of memorizing vocabulary lists and conjugating verbs, students act out stories in the language they’re learning. The audience responds to the actors in a kind of interactive linguistic improv. 

“I saw that just take off,” he said. Students took more risks, retained more vocabulary and learned to speak in full sentences. 

Simultaneously, he organized a class trip to Costa Rica, where students hiked the rainforest, ziplined, helped repaint an elementary school and worked at an elder care center. 

Closer to home, students learn bioscience through a mobile program sponsored by the Pennsylvania Society for Biomedical Research and game design with a teacher who created a mobile app to help schools track inventory. In a cosmetology class, teacher Samantha Bromfield focuses on ensuring employable skills, believing that “everyone should know how to do a range of everything.”

The school’s open-admissions policy is a draw for many families, said Parker, the partnership coordinator. The opportunity for any student to attend, no matter their grades or behavioral record, is “something that parents are looking for.”

But it also means much of Building 21’s energy is spent getting students’ skills up to the level where they can reliably pursue their interests. 

That often takes the form of individualizing assignments and basically personalizing student performance levels. In an English class, all students are writing about topics they’re interested in, but one student may be tasked with writing a cogent essay based on a reading, while another may write one that does more with the reading, incorporating specific details or answering complex questions. 

“What we’re trying to find is that sweet spot where you’re not ignoring the truth of what ‘unfinished learning’ looks like in high school — and you want kids to find themselves and get engaged,” said co-founder Laura Shubilla.

If some of that isn’t sexy or new, she shrugs it off. A lot of what works in education, including systemic differentiated instruction, simply isn’t. “I would say probably we’re more intentional than innovative.” 

As a result, while the school gets a lot of visitors, it doesn’t often appear in the news. These days, one of the main things the school is known for in Philly — a district plagued with decrepit building conditions — is its three-month closure last spring after inspectors discovered . In May 2023, one day after it reopened, shut it down again, just hours after a big celebratory barbecue. 

“Four o’clock in the afternoon,” Shubilla recalled, “the ceiling fell in.”

A ‘backwards-mapped’ curriculum

The school offers four years of competency-based learning, in which mastering skills takes precedence over seat time. Since students progress at their own rate, each enjoys what amounts to an individualized education.

It turns the idea of grades on its head, offering students the opportunity to submit and re-submit work until it meets high standards. Assignments are graded on a 2- to 12- point scale. If a student hands in a writing assignment that’s adequate or only touches on a few competencies, it might earn an 8 or 9 or lower. If she wants to earn a 10 or 11, she can refer to a chart that lays out the skills associated with such a piece of writing: It must have a compelling hook and strong point of view, cite evidence and acknowledge other perspectives.

Earning a 10 or higher means it’s as good as something a college student — or at least a college-ready student — might produce.

“We did a lot of studying on what it takes to be successful in college and on a job,” said co-founder Chip Linehan, “and we sort of backwards-mapped from there.”

Hassan Durant, 17, a senior, said the curriculum is challenging but worth the effort. “It pushes us to think harder and more on a college-based level,” he said

Understanding how to move up the grading scale was difficult at first, but many students now welcome it.

“A lot of people that I know that feel like they should have scored higher go to the teachers and ask, ‘What can I revise? What can I work on? What can I fix and change to take this from an 8 and bring it up to at least a 10?’” Durant said.

After years of traditional learning and report cards, he said it was difficult to get his parents to understand the subtleties of competency.

He recalled telling his parents, “I’m not really failing, and I wouldn’t say I’m passing, but I am getting the work done and doing what I have to do so that I can pass.” 

Roots at Harvard, MIT

Co-founders Shubilla and Linehan created Building 21 after meeting at Harvard’s Graduate School of Education in 2011, where they studied with renowned scholar . 

Elmore pushed students to rethink everything. “His question was always, ‘Why does this thing called learning have to take place in this place called school?’” said Shubilla. If not, he would ask, what would you replace it with?

She and Linehan soon realized that they had similar answers: Both believed school should start with an “anchor learning site” connected to opportunities elsewhere.

So they designed a school that both brings in experts from outside and gently pushes students into workplaces. Linehan likes to think of it as making the school “as permeable as possible.” 

Elmore, who died in 2021, also pushed students to confront their biases. More broadly, Harvard’s Graduate School of Education urged teachers to confront bedrock views about their own authority and interact more patiently with students.

“Their saying was, ‘You can’t transform the sector until you transform yourself,’” Shubilla recalled.

Building 21 opened in 2014, and now operates two campuses, one here and another in nearby . Beyond that, its curriculum is open-sourced, readily accessible to other educators wanting to try their hand at competency-based learning. 

The school’s name is a sly nod to MIT’s fabled , which for 80 years served as coded shorthand for a center of innovation. After World War II, it became home to dozens of researchers and technologists, including MIT’s legendary , widely seen as the first group of computer hackers.

Mastering skills preoccupies much of the first two years here, but the final two take on a different cast, with juniors spending large chunks of the day connecting what they’re learning to their interests through internships and senior projects. 

Last spring, Durant, the senior, spent a lot of time downtown at , Building 21’s IT pathway program, to learn the Python computer language. He’s also in the middle of a paid “externship” with , an engineering software company that specializes in infrastructure. The company — one of 83 outside organizations that partner with the school — sponsors five such positions each spring and summer. 

Last fall, Durant was also enrolled in a public speaking class at La Salle University, one of three colleges where Building 21 students can sign up for dual-enrollment classes. Building 21 also runs three dual enrollment classes onsite through Harrisburg University.

Like many schools that emphasize project-based and competency-based learning, it puts seniors through “capstone” projects that often summarize their learning, scratch an itch or answer a nagging question.

In one case, a student who wanted to start a theater program visited stages at nearby schools and returned to Building 21 with a detailed proposal to create a homegrown initiative, complete with budget, staffing projections and recommendations.

Another surveyed the African-American history curriculum and came away with a keen observation: When it came to Black Americans, it relied heavily on “the oppression narrative” of slavery, racism and subjugation, Shubilla recalled. “And her question was: ‘Why is there not more Black joy in the curriculum?’” 

Not only did teachers listen, they spent the following summer staring down the student’s complaint and eventually concluded that she was right. They redesigned it. 

One teacher that teaching about racial trauma opens a wound for many students of color that teachers often fail to consider. So the school added more readings and projects built around “enlightenment and empowerment,” such as a study of the crusading journalist and others.

Taken together, the experiences resonate with students, who mature quickly as they approach graduation.

Aaliyah St. Fleur, 18, a senior, admitted that she wasn’t really focused on the big picture until last fall, when she met a group of Black women doctors from the University of Pennsylvania Children’s Hospital at a medical conference. She now wants to be a neonatal intensive care nurse — or perhaps a gynecologist.

More importantly, she realized that if she wants to be a doctor, she has to get serious about school. 

“I was on my grades, but iffy about it,” she admitted. “But then once I did the trip, I was like, ‘OK, my GPA has to be higher.’”

Most schools might not sympathize with a student realizing in the spring of her junior year that she must focus to get into medical school, let alone college. But Parker, Shubilla and others said she’s got time to begin building a transcript that will help get her there. Likely it will take a big investment in dual-enrollment classes come this fall, when she begins her senior year. 

No one understands that better than Aaliyah, who knows that her time in high school is short. “I’m actually paying attention.”

After weeks working side-by-side in a tiny nut-free bakery, Susan Lagasse and her young apprentice reached what was perhaps their most fraught lesson: the scourge of cake crumbs in buttercream frosting.

“Once you have a little crumb, it spreads throughout the entire cake,” said Lagasse. “It’s like a disease.”

The apprentice, 17-year-old Caroline Bonga, nodded in agreement. For the past several weeks, she’d been spending a lot of her time on crumb control at Lagasse’s bakery, Awesome Sweets, covering naked cakes with a base layer of frosting prior to decoration. 

Across the small table sat Lillian John, who gently guided the conversation back to a key question: How can we end this internship with a bang?

John is an adviser at The Metropolitan Regional Career and Technical Center, a legendary public high school universally known as The Met. For more than a quarter of a century, Met advisers have been sitting in on meetings like these, transforming work-focused internships and student-driven exhibitions into a coherent education for some of the state’s neediest students.

Originally housed in space shared with the University of Rhode Island, in 2002 The Met opened in its current configuration in the Upper South Side, Providence’s poorest neighborhood. Built on the site of abandoned housing, next to a former hospital, the school sits on a wide-open swath of green with four small schools, each in a corner of campus.

The size is intentional: Each school houses fewer than 150 students, in core groups of 14 to 18, led by a single adviser like John who guides them from freshman to senior year. 

It’s an unusual arrangement that leads to something rare in high school: long-term, trusting relations between kids and adults that bear fruit in ways most schools never aspire to, said Met Co-Director Nancy Diaz.

Schools should be small, she said, their relationships loving and caring. “That’s what we do.”

While they meet with their entire groups several times a week, advisers don’t necessarily teach traditional classes, instead spending much of their time managing students’ individualized learning plans. 

In fact, the only subject routinely taught in a traditional classroom is math, and that’s via a designated specialist. Virtually everything else a student needs to learn, according to The Met, comes from projects, individualized assignments from advisers and, most notably, internships in the real world, like Bonga’s at the nut-free bakery.

As a result, most days students come and go in a relaxed fashion, an experience more akin to an elite college campus or white-collar workplace than a teeming high school.

‘The plan behind the madness’

Created in 1996 by educators Dennis Littky and Elliot Washor, The Met has quietly become a touchstone among educators nationwide seeking to create small, personalized high schools around relevant, career-focused aspirations. Its enrollment is highly diverse: 79% are students of color and 71% come from low-income families. Its latest graduation rate: 96%.

Twenty-seven years later, The Met essentially runs its own school district, one that comprises these four schools as well as two others here and in Newport, R.I., with a total enrollment of about 820 students. Its enrollment is lottery-based, with a waiting list that resets each year so students can’t be on it for more than one year. No entrance exam is required.

Like many Met students, Mei Mei Long, class of 2017, took a while to discover its possibilities. “I didn’t really like it the first year,” she admitted at a recent alumni gathering. 

Interested in medicine when she arrived as a freshman, Long found she couldn’t find any internships in the field that would enroll a 14-year-old. So she broadened her criteria and tried out a host of different topics, eventually settling on international relations. Six years later, it’s now the topic of a masters degree she’s earning at URI, a top destination for Met students. 

“It definitely helped me prepare to be more independent in school as well in the career field,” she said. “I’m not afraid to just go out there and learn new things.”

Jordan Maddox, class of 2007, floundered at two traditional high schools before he applied to The Met for junior year. An aunt and cousin worked there and urged him to consider it.

One look at its flexible structure and dearth of organized classes and he didn’t quite know what to make of the place. “I remember telling my mother, ‘Mom, this is a daycare for high school students.’ And she was like, ‘Give it a chance. Give it time.’”

After a disastrous first quarter, Maddox’s adviser took him aside and gently noted that he was doing just enough to get by — and it showed in his projects. That wasn’t good enough, she said.

It would take him a few months to grasp “the plan behind the madness,” as he calls it: “I realized I wasn’t doing much with my time, and students around me were making things happen.” They’d created impressive internships and other experiences.

After taking in a few classmates’ quarterly independent-study exhibitions, he stepped back and realized that those who were using their time wisely “had excellent exhibitions.” Students who “loafed around” had terrible ones. 

Then he got it: “The Met is similar to the real world. What you put in is what you will receive.”

Maddox began challenging himself in subsequent efforts, in the process tapping into his own interests. A year later, he developed an ambitious, eight-week afterschool curriculum for children that explored R&B, jazz and the Motown sound. He raised enough money to take a group of students on a two-week summer trip to Detroit, Memphis and Chicago, one that brought them to Motown’s headquarters and other music-related sites. 

“I think that’s what the Met taught me: Don’t really limit yourself.”

‘They’re not just hanging with 15-year-olds’

The power of the internships stems from two simple realities: They push teens to try lots of new things, and to spend time with adults, not peers.

After 27 years of sending students into the workplace, The Met maintains a database of more than 6,000 internship sites. They typically run for about three months, and most students do two or three per school year.

“They can realize what they love, what they hate, and what they really want to focus on,” said Diaz, the co-director.

One of senior Angel Feliz’s recent internships had him helping an architecture firm power a homeless shelter with solar energy — a resume-worthy credential. But in the process, Feliz realized he didn’t enjoy working in an office “where everybody was super quiet.”

So he focused instead on information technology, and last spring interned at the University of Rhode Island’s more convivial, far less quiet, I.T. Department. His latest assignment: Improving cybersecurity and updating databases at its .

“You go through a lot of trial and error here,” he said, “but through that you understand what you do like.”

Curriculum Director Joe Battaglia said one of the school’s key values is to help students build their extended social networks, which can be particularly difficult for students of color. That’s not something most high schools do, he said.

Co-founder Littky said one key to the school is that it puts students in proximity with adults. “They’re not just hanging with 15-year-olds or 18-year-olds” all day, he said, so they learn professional behaviors that will stay with them for years. “It’s way beyond, in my mind, any other skills they get.”

Rigor vs. vigor

For critics who might scoff at the idea of a smooth crumb coat as the kind of rigorous work a high schooler should undertake, Battaglia, the curriculum director, said state standards in culinary arts likely list “smooth crumb coats” as a core competency. For what it’s worth, at nearby Johnson & Wales University, , its cake production course, requires students to “assemble, ice, stack, tier and finish” cakes using a variety of ingredients, including buttercream.

Battaglia also said The Met hews to a basic tenet: depth over breadth. In that sense, it reflects the values of the, which for 30 years promoted not just depth but personalization, trust, and teachers as coaches.

Littky noted that the late Hungarian-American psychologist, father of the concept of “flow” in work and play, has written that the way one becomes an adult thinker is to study something — anything — deeply.

In schools, Littky said, the way most adults think about rigor is all wrong: It’s about output, not input. A math teacher who fails most of his students is “rigorous,” he said, much more so than the science teacher who inspires all of his students to become scientists.

Washor, Littky’s co-founder, likes to talk about “vigor rather than rigor” — “rigor,” he jokes, is Latin for “dead and stiff.”

“Schools are places of certainty, run by churches and people who want to install certain content. But the world is uncertain. The world is alive and dynamic.”

Young people, he said, thrive in uncertainty. “They want to take risks. We want them to be measured risks. We want to go along with them on those risks.”

Since 1996, Washor has moved on to working with The Met’s umbrella non-profit, , while Littky has remained on campus as a co-director. He retired in June.

At 79, Littky is partial to wire-rimmed glasses, kufi caps and flashy sneakers. He ends his phone conversations with “Peace” and speaks plainly — on occasion, profanely — about what makes the school tick. The internships, he said, may eventually make someone like Bonga into a skilled baker, but that’s not the point. “She does great, but I don’t really give a shit” if she becomes a baker, he said. What’s important is finding what ignites her interest.

“It’s our job back here to make it deeper” than just learning how to frost a cake. “It’s really about how do you place a kid in an environment where they want to work?”

It’s a tricky formula that often takes years to get right. While a few Met students focus early on their dream careers, by the time most graduate, they’ve spent four years zig-zagging through multiple internships and experiences, often in wildly divergent fields.

Last fall, before she was a baker’s apprentice, Bonga spent two months on the water with the group , sailing as far south as the Florida Keys. That got her thinking about more ways to leverage her time for travel, perhaps as a flight attendant. 

Coming back to earth, someday she’d like to run her own bakery. But first she must master “the most essential skill” of the smooth crumb coat, said Lagasse, her bakery boss.

Before long, the talk at Awesome Sweets turned away from buttercream and toward Bonga’s planned year-end project: a huge, $500 cake for her school’s June 6 awards ceremony, attended by upwards of 150 people. Lagasse committed to offering her protege the space, time and resources to create it, but with Spring Break looming, Bonga would have just 10 days in the bakery. 

Six weeks later, she met the June 6 deadline and produced a towering, ever-so-slightly off-center, four-tiered cake in gleaming white frosting. Decorated with silky red roses and purple violets, it showed not a hint of crumb.

]]> /article/pilot-program-gets-st-louis-students-thinking-about-careers-in-9th-grade/ Wed, 21 Jun 2023 18:01:00 +0000 /?post_type=article&p=710657 When Alyssa Wagner started ninth grade at Kairos Academies in St. Louis, she knew she liked math. Science, not so much.

But during the first semester of an elective class called Next Prep, the 14-year-old found she has an interest in medicine. 

“I probably like science more than I thought I did,” she said on a Zoom call from the Next Prep classroom. Like all ninth-graders at Kairos, a public charter school, Alyssa meets with an academic coach at least once a week. “Me and my coach, we talk about the short term, like my grades. My Next Prep class is about the future.”

Offered in two St. Louis high schools, Next Prep is a pilot program that helps teens start early in figuring out what they might want to do after graduation. The class starts in ninth grade and begins with exploring each student’s strengths and talents. Later, the class dives into learning about careers by visiting employers and talking directly with professionals. Hands-on and personal, the course is meant to lay out the stepping stones from high school to a meaningful career. 

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In just about any other public high school, Alyssa and her classmates wouldn’t begin talking about their postsecondary options until junior year. Discussions about internships and other types of career preparation might not happen at all. 

This approach may contribute to concerning postsecondary outcomes for many students. According to , of the class entering college in 2010, only 21% of Black students graduated in four years, compared with 32% of Hispanic, 45% of white and 50% of Asian students. Separate data collected by the shows that 65% of Black students who entered college in 2020 returned for their sophomore year in 2021, versus 75% of students overall. 

In Missouri, data released last year showed that of Black students who started college in 2016 completed an undergraduate degree. in 2016 showed that Black St. Louis residents over 25 who enrolled in college were over 40% more likely than white students not to graduate.

“Part of our work is to help students understand themselves, what fires them up and what they like,” said Jesse Dixon, a partner at the St. Louis-based education nonprofit , which launched in 2019 and since developed the Next Prep curriculum. “Whether a student is choosing four-year college or not, if they have a plan, they’re much more likely to persist.”

But before students can make a plan, they have to attend school. After the pandemic, , mostly in districts where classes had been conducted remotely. This trend demonstrates declining student engagement, Dixon said. While developing the Next Prep course, he spoke with students, many of whom had taken jobs during the pandemic. Students said their high school class content didn’t seem important once they were working.

“The disconnect between relevant job preparation and what they were doing in high school was hard to ignore,” Dixon said. Attendance rates dropped because students didn’t feel that high school was relevant to their lives. “Next Prep is intended to try to address this gap that students have become more aware of.”

The pilot course aims to expose students to the range of postsecondary options and explain precisely how they need to prepare in order to pursue specific plans. 

“I taught for five years, mostly at high schools, and one thing that always stood out is the information gap,” said Riley Foster, an education innovation fellow with the Opportunity Trust and the Next Prep instructor at Kairos Academies, where the student body is almost 60% Black. “Students didn’t know what people in specific careers did and how much school they’d need to have that career.”

Some also often didn’t know the difference between an associate and a bachelor’s degree, Foster said, or that many careers require additional schooling after graduation from a four-year college.

During the first semester of Next Prep, students take personality tests to figure out what interests them — whether they prefer helping people, building or fixing things, or working alone with data, for example. The second semester is all about career exploration, including health, business, education and engineering. It’s a brand-new program at Kairos, which started with a middle school and expanded to offer high school this year. Half of the 140 ninth-graders were randomly assigned to Next Prep, but next year all ninth- and 10th-graders will participate. 

Nilesh Patel, principal of Kairos Academies High School, welcomed the idea of starting early to help teens figure out what they want to do.

“The reality we see in high-performing charters is that we have great college acceptance rates, but our college retention rates are terrible,” said Patel. “If we get kids into college without the skills to stay in, what’s the point?” 

Beyond learning about education and training, Riley said, her students are hungry to know more about real careers and hear directly from working people, so she asks speakers to come to class and talk about their jobs. That’s how Alyssa Boehle discovered a passion for counseling. When six therapists visited the class to share their work, she learned about a type of counseling she’d never heard of before.

“There was an art therapist who started her own business,” said Alyssa. “I found it really interesting to hear how she made the connections to start her own business.” 

Students have also gone on field trips to visit big employers. Barnes-Jewish Hospital, for example, offers paid jobs for high schoolers and college tuition assistance.

Tenth-graders will dig deeper into their identified career interests, shadowing people who work in the field. They’ll also focus on soft skills, including interviewing and conflict resolution. Eleventh-graders will do internships in their chosen area. During their senior year, students can take dual-enrollment courses in a local community college, pursue a professional certificate or dive deeper into an internship.

“The important thing is to start with self-awareness,” Foster said. “Students need to learn a vocabulary to express their strengths and interests and that those things map to careers.” 

]]> /article/real-world-scholars-nonprofit-businesses-classrooms-hands-on/ Tue, 25 Oct 2022 14:01:00 +0000 /?post_type=article&p=698652 Correction appended Oct. 26

Not much entices a second grader to skip out on recess to get back to schoolwork. But excitement around a classroom-run business can do just that, especially when it means creating candles out of crayons and selling them in the local community.

That’s just one of the businesses Real World Scholars has helped schools around the country set up, empowering teachers to spark their students’ entrepreneurial energy — whether it’s elementary school kids building birdhouses or high schoolers welding furniture. The nonprofit offers logistics and curriculum toolkits that give teachers a framework for getting a classroom-based business running and keeping it operating.

“I think student engagement and development of the entrepreneurial mindset has such big implications for everything else,” says Elyse Burden, co-founder and executive director. “When students want to come to class, it is a lot easier to teach them math. We are seeing improvement in the classroom culture, with impacts on learning, and workforce skills are being developed.”

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Since starting in 2015, Real World Scholars has reached over 50,000 students from kindergarten through high school with roughly 600 student-led businesses in 34 states. Most sell to the local community, with students learning the art of setting prices and marketing along the way. Collectively, kids have made nearly $400,000, with much of it supporting local nonprofit organizations or being reinvested into the business. Some classes may make hundreds of dollars; others, thousands.

Each business supported by the program is directed by a teacher. Some teachers join the effort to give more direction to an already burgeoning idea, while others use it to get students excited about projects that incorporate an array of skills. Burden did not originally intend to create curriculum, but teachers appreciated having a basic toolkit to lead students toward identifying goals, learning business basics and walking through next steps. Teachers can follow the program — or not.

Once started, Burden says, successful classes break away from curriculum and let the unpredictable nature of entrepreneurship take its course, with motivated students helping to lead. “The experience explodes from there,” she says. “Students are connecting outside of school, and parents can get involved. It gives us an amazing opportunity to learn in a community based in a real-world way.”

The concept started in 2014, with Burden and co-founder John Cahalin looking to create a way to promote entrepreneurship inside core classrooms. “New legislation was talking about 21st century skills, with a lot of emphasis on soft skills, but teachers had no direction or support,” Burden says. “They were excited, but there was no mechanism.”

The first attempt to embrace that excitement, a press release offering half a million dollars to teachers wanting to run a business out of the classroom, was met with no takers — and questions about it being a scam. Burden says they realized that handling money in the classroom setting could be a “terrifying” proposition. Real World Scholars needed to provide infrastructure just to help give money away.

From there, they built a platform. It launched in the San Diego area with a chemistry class making and selling soap. The first year, they grew from 10 classes to 40. By the following year, more than 200 classes had participated. Today, the list of alumni includes a third-grade class in San Diego that built a “feel-good box” that acts as a care package, with chocolate, candles and more; a Wyoming woodworking and metalworks classroom creating art and furniture; and a Pennsylvania junior and senior high school that makes jewelry and floral arrangements.

Aaron Grable, digital arts media teacher and career and technical education department head at El Camino High School in Oceanside, California, has been on board from the start and says working with Real World Scholars provides the final link in the chain for his graphic and web design classes that double as businesses.

“Students don’t come into my class expecting just another hour-a-day, five-days-a-week class where they’re forced to memorize things and take tests,” he says. “They are alive and engaged, not only while they are in my class but after and before class and on weekends. They are constantly trying to figure out new and exciting ways to make our business larger and more productive.”

As the school year moves along, Grable says, his role becomes more managerial, with students running the class and the business. “They foresee and prevent problems, they manage their time and their customers and they determine where the money goes after they’ve earned it,” he says. “They’ve created the class website, the class logo, the prices that we charge, the services that we provide, our client list, all our paperwork in the process through which we get and keep clients.”

Whether it’s a smoothly operating high school class, such as Grable’s, or a novice class with a teacher new to the concept, Burden says Real World Scholars aims to take the scary out of the entrepreneurial process.

Originally, Real World Scholars helped match classrooms with grants (Harbor Freight Tools for Schools is the largest sponsor, although a variety of business-based and private foundations take part, especially to generate regional funding). But as more teachers became interested in the program, demand outpaced the grant funding. When the pandemic hit, Real World Scholars retooled its dashboard to craft a more digital-friendly environment. The pandemic reduced donations, so it built a license model that lets classrooms pay for the service rather than waiting for contributions.

Grable says he enjoys watching students grow in different areas and work together to help one another and lean on the strengths of classmates in a class that is about more than just learning how to design websites. “It teaches them social and civic awareness,” he says, “effective and persuasive writing, personal conduct, professional demeanor, math and finance and something they don’t feature in a textbook: confidence and pride in yourself.”

Correction: Harbor Freight Tools for Schools is the largest sponsor of Real World Scholars

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