Principal Azalia Speight knows the name of every student, and they know hers. As she walks from classroom to classroom in the historic Brookland School building that now houses Luke C. Moore High School, students react to Principal Speight with the same combination of respect and warmth. Their affection radiates not through words but through gestures that accompany the words: A shy smile here or there, a teasing comment or jibe. Bright, proud eyes when she points out an accomplishment from a student — a self-portrait from art class. The requisite answer to a question about what’s going on: “Oh, you know, Ms. Speight.”
Last year, over 97 percent of students said they liked the school in the Student Satisfaction Survey—among the very highest rate in the district. The building itself feels like a giant home for a big family. No doubt, each “family” member has gone through his or her own personal difficulties, perhaps entering adulthood earlier than they had anticipated because of extreme poverty, displaced housing, violence, severe academic deficits, debilitating mental health disorders, teen parenthood, and so forth. But here, that fades away during a school day. In the sun-soaked lobby, science classroom, or homegrown recording studio at Luke C. Moore, the students feel safe and at peace. They are kids again. Here, they’re home.
Principal Speight discusses this and more in the conversation below.
A high school where acceptance and tolerance is the norm
We changed the perception of what it means to be an alternative school. We changed it from “alternative” to “second chance.” This isn’t the school for the bad kids or the ones who couldn’t make it. This is a school for anyone who needs a second chance or a different environment. It’s for anyone who wants to be nurtured and loved while they’re being challenged and instructed. We have A+ students who choose to be here. We have students who present themselves in alternative ways, and they’re comfortable here because they’re accepted regardless of what they look like or what they’ve done.
I’ve never had a student who has said they disliked the school. They don’t have to worry about being made fun of or bullied. Here, they respect who you are and what you bring to the table. Everyone who comes here, comes here for a reason.
Compassion runs amok
The staff here chooses to work with a population that others don’t. Our teachers make every effort to help our students succeed. They do not hold against the student the poor decisions they may have made. They don’t remind them of their mistakes. They trust that they will make better decisions in the future. No matter how eccentric a request or need, the entire staff makes an effort to meet that need. They give like you wouldn’t believe — from Metro fare to diapers for the students’ kids or coats for winter. Everyone in our building gives out of their pockets and out of their hearts to our students.
This past Christmas day, 100 students and staff came for the Christmas luncheon. My staff donated all the gifts for the kids and local grocers, restaurants and caterers donated the food. We ate, socialized, and decorated a Christmas tree.
Pushing away obstacles
I’m proud of my students because they represent a group of youth in the city that has been seemingly forgotten or marginalized. They’ve gone through all sorts of obstacles, and they have made the decision to work through those things. They come to us with adversity and setbacks, knowing they were unable to succeed anywhere else, and yet, they have a desire to achieve. Their achievements might not look like everyone else’s achievements, but they have made strides through difficult circumstances.
We have students who came in with extremely low GPAs, but then were able to graduate and go to college. Some come back to school and tell us that if it wasn’t for the support staff and teachers, the social worker, the dean of students, they may not have made it. They say, “You supported me. You pushed me. You gave to me when I needed it.” One student graduated from here, he’s now working at a grocery store and in an electrician apprenticeship program. He said to us, “If you guys had given up on me, I’d be dead or in jail. You taught me to be an adult.” He’s turned himself around. He walks and talks differently.
We talk about Khadijah, who became a foster child at age 16. She came in emotionally broken and bitter. Our art teacher worked with her during her two years here, and Khadijah went from a 1.0 GPA to a 3.5 and received a $40,000 scholarship to the Corcoran College of Art and Design. She has struggled through insurmountable odds.
We’ve got five cadets working with the DC Fire and Emergency Medical Services Department. The sole job of our transition specialist, Sheila Henderson, is to partner with local agencies that are willing to work with our students and help them find jobs and internships.
This is why I’m here
I decided to become an educator because I like working with youth. I know that this is where I belong. I know that some students don’t have enough support. And I’d like to help lead them through their personal issues so that they can sustain a normal life. We’re very proud about the results we are able to produce here; our students are better off when they leave than when they came.
These kids complain about going to school and class and then at 6 p.m., we can’t get them to leave! The students just want to see your face. We take on very nurturing roles but they know this is a place where we hold students accountable. We are building character and gaining knowledge. We hug our students, we chat about other things. We stand at the door and greet them by name. We play with them and joke with them and spend time dreaming with them. But we hold them accountable.
Our goal is to get them to be more proactive about their behaviors. There’s never a time when they get away with a negative behavior without us asking them what else they could be doing differently. We learn how to be compassionate and look beyond their faults and see their needs. That’s a key component. We always tell our students that tomorrow is a new day, but that you can’t make that same mistake again and again. And now, we’ve gotten to the point where students will quickly apologize or rectify the situation before I even open my mouth.
Walking across the stage
Every graduation is a happy moment. I have graduates that walk across the stage in tears because everyone told them they couldn’t do it. There’s not a graduation that I forget. This past one was particularly emotional, because my first and second year we lost seniors to gun violence. Our kids are a little hardened, especially when they see their friends and family leaving this earth so soon. So I’m always reminded that graduation is a big milestone for them — some thought they wouldn’t make it to 21 or 18. When they graduate, it’s the biggest accomplishment in their lives. We’re trying to move them to a place where there’s even more accomplishment that’s possible.
The world is still full of possibilities
My hope is for students to be able to live a better life than they’re living right now. That doesn’t mean that their life is bad now, but I hope they can do better. We want to give them every tool and sharpen every skill to prepare them. A lot of kids didn’t even think they could go to college but now they’re looking forward to applying. Every year, a few more kids take the SATs; we’ve had more kids going to college than ever before. Sixty percent of our graduating class last year moved onto college or a career vocational program. We want them to know that the world is still full of opportunities for them.