Student pride on the curriculum

A SCHOOL that was a byword for failure has rebuilt on a foundation of respect.

Glenala High School

AT assembly last week, high school principal Corrine McMillan delivered a tough message to her Year 10 students: fail this year and you won't go into Year 11.

"I'm concerned about allowing you to go on to Year 11 if you don't pass Year 10 because I'd be setting you up to fail," she told them. "If you don't lift your game, you won't be going on to Year 11."

McMillan, principal of Glenala State High in Brisbane's western suburbs, was confident it was the right thing to do, but she worried about the parents' reaction.

When McMillan returned to her office, one of the elders from the local indigenous community was waiting to see her.

"Oh Auntie Therese, I've given the Year 10s a rocket," McMillan said.

"Good," the elder replied. "It's about time. The elders are behind you. We've been waiting for this day, waiting for somebody to say,'that's enough'."

McMillan is used to making unpopular decisions. Tough with a big heart is how she describes her approach.

"Communities want strong leadership, they always want a disciplined environment," she says. "I'm running a tight ship, a tight school, with strong, clear processes that identify the responsibility of all members of the community, whether parents or kids."

It's an approach that is being embraced by the students and their parents.

Once the school with a bad reputation shunned by the community for its falling enrolments, boarded-up windows and rough image, Glenala is on the rise.

Glenala State High sits in Inala, an old satellite suburb of Brisbane, established after World War II for returning veterans. Originally called Serviceton, Inala is full of housing commission homes and, with an immigration centre nearby, has been home to waves of new migrants, from Europeans in the post-war years to Vietnamese in the 1970s, Pacific Islanders in the past decade or so and, in recent years, Sudanese and other African refugees.

The school reflects the cultural diversity of the community. Almost 40 per cent of its students are from the Pacific Islands, indigenous students are about 22 per cent and Vietnamese are the third largest ethnic group.

About 24 nationalities are represented at the school, with Caucasians the smallest minority.

The community is extremely disadvantaged. Unemployment nationally is about 5 per cent, but in Inala 17 per cent have no work.

McMillan says a large proportion of families represented at the school live below the poverty line set by the World Health Organisation, earning less than $14,000 a year gross, living only 18km from the centre of Brisbane.

There was no bus linking Inala to the city until 1982, a train station opened only last year and local businesses have been closing. The site of the old roller-skating rink and Olympic swimming pool, the main form of entertainment in the 70s, is a decaying shell and, despite an attempt by the Vietnamese community to reopen it as a pool hall and karaoke venue, it has been an eyesore for 10 to 15 years. In the 60s and 70s, enrolment at the school, then called Inala State High, hit 1200 to 1300 students, including Wayne Goss, who went on to become Queensland premier. By last year, student enrolments had plummeted to about 420.

School captain Naomi Faatuai, who started at Glenala in Year 8, says initially she was not keen about coming to the school.

"It was bad news, there were fights every day, people said don't go because you're going to get bashed," she says.

About 10 years ago, the government started renewing the area, refurbishing the older housing commission homes, and then in 2009 Glenala State High received funding under the State Schools of Tomorrow program to refurbish the entire school and build new facilities. The buildings were finished at the end of 2010, complete with a secure fence to keep out troublemakers -- and make it harder for truants to skip out during the day.

The school also had to cope with a tragedy last year, when three of its students and their mother died in the house fire at Slacks Creek that claimed the lives of 11 people from the same family and the title of the nation's worst house fire.

McMillan says the rebuilding was the catalyst for the culture shift that has occurred, while the tragic fire brought the different cultural groups closer together and provided an opportunity to demonstrate her belief in, and commitment to, the community.

One of the first decisions McMillan made as principal built on the idea of renewal, when she enforced the wearing of proper school uniform. Most of the students wore their sports uniform to school every day, tracksuit pants or shorts and polo shirts, and some students favoured canvas slip-ons instead of leather school shoes.

At first deeply unpopular with the community, the wearing of uniform is now cited as one of the key changes contributing to the culture shift in the school.

Even the students say wearing the uniform, which could be mistaken for a private school uniform, fosters pride in the school, and in themselves.

Senior leader and Year 12 student Joanne Keys says wearing the school uniform has changed the perception of the school in the community as well as among the students.

"Some people think Glenala is a bad school," she says. "It had a bad reputation, but I think now with the uniform policy in place the message to the public is positive.

"The mentality has changed as well. We're no longer down on our own school, pride has been enforced, and we wear the uniform proudly. Our community has seen that and the perception of our school in the community has changed as well because of that."

Year 11 student Sabrina Flores says the change in attitude has flowed thorough to the way students approach their school work.

When she started at the school in Year 8, "many students didn't think it was good to try hard in their schoolwork", she says.

"They thought it was cool not to try. Now everyone tries to improve."

The uniform is the most visible sign of the transformation taking place behind the school gates.

McMillan says the school had a culture of low expectations of its students' behaviour and academic results, and low aspirations for their future.

"When you put low aspirations and low expectations together, you get a recipe for disaster and further disadvantage," she says.

"I often say to my staff: are the decisions you're making going to keep kids in poverty or are they going to escalate our families and kids out of poverty? What we don't want to do is make decisions that support the excuses."

McMillan says she is adamant that students arrive at school on time, and refuses to accept the excuses of family responsibilities or part-time jobs as legitimate reasons to keep children from their studies.

"It doesn't matter whether you had to care for your five siblings because Mum and Dad are both at work, or you had to look after grandma because she's ill and you had to get your siblings to school. It's not the child's job.

"Their job is to get to school on time, their focus is on education. I make it very clear when I'm working with parents, these are your responsibilities and these are your kids' responsibilities.

"We have high expectations and take no excuses. We're putting in place very clear processes and structures to facilitate and support students out of their situation. Education is the key for our kids."

Parents have noticed the flow-on effect at home, with better behaved children who look forward to attending school. Sharon Taai, who has two daughters at the school, says the uniform has helped change community perceptions.

Deirdre Fitzgerald, who cares for nieces who attend the school, says the new approach has helped parents coping with a difficult child.

"They have respect for the children . . . behaviour picks up when there's respect."

Glenala receives funding under the federal-state National Partnership for schools in low-socioeconomic communities, and the money has allowed the school to appoint a director of student achievement, Sharon Tessmann, who has taught at the school for 22 years.

Many high-performing and private schools would have such positions as a matter of course, but it's a first at Glenala. Without Tessmann in that role, it would be left to the heads of departments, already juggling full teaching loads and administrative duties.

Every Monday, staff have a data meeting to discuss aspects of the school and the students' performance, looking at literacy and numeracy, tracking student progress for the Queensland Certificate of Education, assessing how the years 11 and 12 students are travelling or looking at attendance rates.

"For years 11 and 12 tracking, we look at every single student, every teacher is in the room, we put up every student for every subject and talk about it: what are the problems, where are they sitting, how are they progressing," Tessmann says.

"When I sit down with the student and their parents, I can say: 'There's no bluffing me and Mum, your teacher told me what's going on.' Kids know it happens and they've embraced that journey. Kids will drop by my room and ask: 'How am I tracking?' It's like a drop-in centre."

Tessmann says doing well academically is an explicit part of the school culture now, and students know academic results are their priority.

For the underperforming Year 10s, teachers are setting up interviews with the students and their parents to work out individual plans to help them through their studies.

Tessmann says part of their success is due to including parents, and insisting they play a role in their child's education. "Most of our parents aren't comfortable in schools because it's not something they've experienced," she says.

"Parents will get a report card of Ds and say they want their child to improve but don't know what to do. Part of my role is intervening with those students and working with parents. It's part of our expectation. We make it clear we expect our parents to be involved in their children's education, and they're very willing to be."

Partnered with high expectations is high aspirations. When the school investigated establishing a program for gifted and talented students, it realised a greater need was to inspire and motivate students. A partnership with legal firm Minter Ellison during the past five years laid the groundwork, providing a career mentoring program for older students, which entails visits to the firm's city offices, and staff also volunteer to act as reading mentors to Year 8 students who record dramatic improvement in their literacy skills.

The school established Inspiring Futures and last year introduced academic awards. Called the Glenala GEMS (Glenala's Enquiring Minds), students receive a pin, gold, silver or bronze, at an assembly held twice a year recognising excellent results. Gold is awarded to students with all As in five subjects, silver to students with As and no more than two Bs, and bronze to students with only As and Bs. The first ceremony handed out 15 pins, growing to 35 last year, and at the latest ceremony 70 students received pins.

After the fire, the school instigated a community night to build student engagement, with the students performing dances and traditions from their culture. This week, the school held its first Pacifica night, with all attending in their traditional dress, including McMillan wearing an outfit provided by the community.

It is the first in a planned series of community nights to celebrate the diversity of the school and help the different communities to mix.

The night was opened by one of the indigenous elders, followed by a traditional Maori welcome dance, with one of the leaders throwing an olive leaf on the ground. McMillan, as chief of the school, picked it up, signifying she came to them without fear.

But perhaps the biggest sign of acceptance is summed up by a boy passing on his way to class wearing a beanie, not a part of the uniform. "Get rid of that beanie now," McMillan orders the teenager, who is easily twice her size. He obeys immediately. "Anything for you Miss," he says.