When student Katie challenges a fact from consumer economics teacher Ruth Wilhelm and is proved wrong, she is cheerfully told to give "20." Immediately, Katie drops to the floor and does 20 perfect pushups.
"One, Miss Wilhelm ... two, Miss Wilhelm ... three, Miss Wilhelm," she says after each one, barely winded.
A few months ago, Katie would have had difficulty completing the exercise. But now physical strength comes easily, as do good manners and a positive attitude.
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Grizzly platoons take marching to lunch with varying levels of seriousness. |
Katie is a student at Grizzly Challenge Charter School. Located in Camp San Luis Obispo, a National Guard base and training facility, it's not your typical public school. Students rise every morning at 5:30 and run several miles. After school they practice marching and other exercises. The boys have shaved heads and call adults "sir" and "ma'am." The girls, equally polite, wear sweats, ponytails and no makeup.
Even though students live here for five months at a time, they don't call it "boot camp," say teachers. That term is associated with a sentence handed down by juvenile court. While Grizzly students are definitely "at risk," most are here voluntarily in hopes of turning their lives around.
Because it is structured more like a military academy than a public school, Grizzly operates as a charter school administered by the San Luis Obispo County Office of Education. The instructors on the teaching staff are credentialed teachers and have formed their own local - the Grizzly Teachers Association (GTA) - with just five members.
"We decided to unionize because we wanted rights and fair pay," says PE teacher and GTA President Greg Goode. "It's nice because now we feel like we have a voice."
For five years, Grizzly has shared a partnership with the National Guard, which partially funds the program. There are four platoons of 30 students each, with one staff sergeant in charge of each platoon when they are not in class. Although teachers and military officers initially had little contact, the two forces now work closely together as a team - and even invite each other to meetings.
Boys and girls, ages 16-18, live separately under a strict "no fraternizing" policy with even eye contact prohibited. (A dance, however, is held at the end of each session.) Students are kept on a busy, regimented schedule that includes community service, job shadowing, and frequent marching and exercise.
"This is not like a regular school where you see students milling around or sitting under a tree socializing," says Goode. "They are always with their platoon marching. That never changes. When you take them into the cafeteria, they have 15 minutes to eat - and get out."
The students need self-discipline to change old habits and lifestyles, says Goode. Many of them have been in trouble with the law - although students who have committed felonies are not allowed to attend Grizzly. The school has students from all over California. A waiting list has developed as the school's reputation has grown. Students must pass a drug test to be accepted, and many are sent home after testing positive upon arrival. Most students do well and lead productive lives after leaving the program, which pairs them with mentors in their community who keep track of them for one year.
"Kids come here for all different reasons, but mostly they want to redirect their lives into something more productive," says Goode. "Some will go back to high school, some want to get their GED and go to work, and others will graduate from here and go either to community college or into the military. Those who enter the military usually say that boot camp is easy, thanks to their experiences here."
When students first arrive, it can be a shock, says Goode. "Boys have their heads shaved and dress either in sweats or uniforms. Girls have to wear their hair up and go without makeup. They are, in a way, stripped of personal identity. Then we attempt to rebuild them."
"At first, I thought, oh my God, what have I got myself into?" recalls Nelson, 17, who decided to follow in his brother's footsteps and attend Grizzly as a way to escape from gangs and drugs in his neighborhood. "At first, it was a real struggle. Then I realized that I was changing my attitude and the way I thought about things. I started participating in my classes and thinking about my future. When I went home on a pass, my parents trusted me again. It felt good."
"The physical stuff was hard because I wasn't used to it at first," says Shantell, 17. "Before coming here, I used to just lie in bed and not do any exercise. But now I'm in good shape. I've lost a lot of weight. I don't even care about eye makeup anymore."
She decided to attend Grizzly because she was getting into trouble at home and had no discipline. After four months, she feels like a different person. "Before, I was a bad kid with no respect. Now, I have a different attitude and I am happier and more confident. My mom told me that she likes what she sees."
"This experience is not going to fix my life, but it has given me an opportunity to change my life," says Michael, 17. His father has been in and out of prison for selling drugs and Michael feared he might do the same if he stayed with his parents, who live nearby. He now plans on joining the National Guard. "I've got a lot more manners now and when people make me angry, I think about things before taking action."
Seeing the changes in students is extremely rewarding for Grizzly teachers. "I feel like I really have an opportunity to make a difference in these kids' lives," says Suzy Uceda, who teaches math, English and job skills. "I feel privileged to work with students who want to make changes. They know they need boundaries in their lives, so they come here. Sometimes at graduation a parent will say, 'Thank you for giving me my child back.' I love that. Other people have given up on these kids, and I love knowing that we haven't."
