Urban Education

Many presidents and politicians have claimed education as their first priority over the past 40 years. They signed legislation and threw money at public schools — pushing per-pupil spending from about $4,000 in 1971 (in inflation-adjusted dollars) to more than $9,000 today, as student achievement stagnated. How could we spend so much for so little, dooming millions of children to "dropout factories" and diminished lives? That question drives "Waiting for Superman," a documentary by Davis Guggenheim of "An Inconvenient Truth" fame.

The more than century-old brick building looks like an Ivy League dorm, with octagonal turrets and grand stone arches. But the windows are shattered, liquor bottles nose from scraggly weeds in the yard, and the words "Hebrew Orphan Asylum" loom above the entrance. The haunting landmark on Baltimore's west side was once a well-respected institution for Jewish children from "broken families," where they received a good education and housing after one or both of their parents died. Decades after its closing in 1923, the asylum may open its doors to children again, this time as a free boarding school for city students in grades seven through 12, many of whom also come from struggling single-parent families.

Baltimore schools CEO Andrés Alonso's resignation at the end of this academic year is a major blow to a city whose trajectory he helped change. There can be little doubt that the energetic and rapid reforms he implemented in the city's long-struggling school system have set the stage for broader renewal and growth in Baltimore. But city leaders also need to look on his departure as a tremendous opportunity, a chance to bring in a new superintendent who will build on Mr. Alonso's successes.

LATE THIS afternoon, while suburbanites are taking a last weekend dip in backyard or neighborhood pools, parents and children from Baltimore's Yorkwood Elementary School will be on a "neighborhood walk."The purpose is to organize the North Baltimore community around school issues, according to Coakley Workman, a parent activist. "One of our goals," Workman said, "is to get our school a real, honest-to-goodness playground where our kids can have fun and be safe."Such a pursuit in the heat of a Sunday afternoon two weeks into summer vacation is extremely unusual.

A group that unsuccessfully tried to win control of the 300-acre Blandair Farm argued last night that it should be allowed to lease the coveted Columbia estate from Howard County, a presentation that turned combative. The county purchased the land in 1998 to turn it into a regional park, possibly with sports fields and nature areas. The Blandair Foundation fought the issue of ownership until the state's highest court declined to hear the case in October. Last night, three leaders of the foundation offered their plans - for research on "urban ecology" combined with hands-on education in farming and nature - to a citizens committee pondering the best use for the land.

City schools CEO Andrés Alonso's performance was marked by, "a series of cheating scandals - found by the state to have taken place during the year the district's progress was most celebrated" and further under his tenure, "The system had paid $14 million in overtime over several years, with the top earner being Alonso's driver. " ("City schools chief Alonso resigns," May 6.) This track record will help recruit the next "great urban education reformer"? Lauding this man's "leadership," or I should say, "oversight," of Baltimore City schools, is bizarre.

Baltimore schools CEO Andrés Alonso tearfully announced his resignation Monday, ending a six-year tenure marked by bold yet often divisive reforms and casting uncertainty on the future of the long-troubled school system. Under Alonso's leadership, city schools saw growth in test scores, graduation rates and enrollment, but his administration was dogged by fiscal problems and cheating scandals. "I have enjoyed being the superintendent of the school system in ways that are so astonishing," Alonso said, choking back tears.

Alice Brenda Henry Black, a city school administrator, died Dec. 23 at her home in Northwood after a long illness. She was 50.Services for Dr. Black were held Dec. 26 at the March funeral establishment.A native of Baltimore, the former Alice Henry was a graduate of Frederick Douglass High School and received her bachelor of science and master's degrees from what was then Morgan State College. She later received her doctorate in urban education from Temple University in Philadelphia.Dr. Black was married to the late John A. Black Sr.She was a member of St. Paul United Methodist Church.

In response to a system that many believed had long failed young black boys, a school began to take shape seven years ago in a small East Baltimore neighborhood. The Bluford Drew Jemison Science Technology Engineering and Mathematics (STEM) Academy would educate "scholars" who would wear uniforms and neckties. The school would have 12-hour days and extended school years to cut the time students spent on the streets as they came to embody the "BDJ Way. " But several years later, students lacked textbooks, computers and art supplies, and instructors had to teach geography with a hand-drawn map of the U.S. Amid years of financial mismanagement and lackluster achievement, Baltimore school officials are now proposing to close the politically connected school, whose co-founders include Baltimore City Councilman Carl Stokes and whose board of directors includes City Council President Bernard C. "Jack" Young.

State Higher Education Secretary Shaila Aery may well have cast the gauntlet with a plan to shut down one of the University of Maryland system's 11 campuses and merge academic programs at the four Baltimore area UM campuses.In a bid to gain control over costs and programs, Aery has proposed eliminating University College, which is the College Park evening and weekend campus for continuing education, and merge its programs into the school's standard curriculum. The two schools already share the same physical facilities, but have separate administration and staff, and thus are counted as separate "campuses."