by Tara Ehler | Mar 5, 2014 1:21 pm

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Posted to: Citizen Contributions, Opinion

In the five years I taught in New Haven Public Schools, three of my students were murdered.

Kyshant Moore sometimes struggled academically at Bishops Woods School, but his smile lit up the room and he was loved by his teachers and classmates who were heartbroken when he transferred to Wexler Grant for his 8th grade year. On Jan. 15, 2011, I received word he had been struck and killed by a car while riding his bike across a snow-covered New Haven. He died in the middle of the night, abandoned by the car that hit him. It was later discovered that the driver had stolen the car, and that Kyshant was struck on purpose.

I remember Alyssiah Wiley as a quiet, but determined student when I student-taught her Honors Sophomore English class at Hillhouse High School. On May 17, 2013, her partial remains were discovered in the Trumbull woods. She was allegedly murdered by her longtime boyfriend. She was in her second year of college.

Javier Martinez was brilliant. He frustrated me in my first full year of teaching when he wouldn’t complete his homework, or spaced out in class. Then I would read his poem, or he would raise his hand and share an insight that I had never considered and I would remember that there was more to him than his grades suggested. On Dec. 28 of last year, he was shot dead in the street.

I was connected to these students like I am to every student who enters my classroom, and I have mourned all three of them. Perhaps that is why the discourse that surrounds education, and particularly urban education remains surreal to me. We can discuss teacher evaluations, test scores, curriculum, Pearson, tiering of schools, and merit pay for as long as we want, but we are not even beginning to touch the conditions that resulted in these three students’ deaths. We are not addressing why so many of my young female students have opted to start families before their sophomore year of high school, or why some of my young male students have already begun the long cycle in and out of institutions before their 16th birthdays.

Why, as a society, are we so afraid to talk about poverty? About violence, neglect, and abuse? About joblessness and income inequality? Perhaps it’s because these problems seem so insurmountable. I can certainly understand that sentiment. But separating discussion of school performance from our larger societal problems falsely suggests that the two are not inextricably linked. Analyzing data instead of talking about our communities creates a safe distance between the academic performance of our students and the human lives at risk. And every article that dissects the current educational climate threatens to be a distraction from the real work we have to do as a community to protect our children.

I taught 7th and 8th grade at two K-8 schools in New Haven, and while both had sparkling new buildings, adequate technology, and revamped curriculum, both were vastly under-resourced when it came to counseling and social work. We can’t continue to shrug off these auxiliary services as a luxury. I would argue that strengthening these support services, along with better engaging parents and guardians as active members of the school community are among the two most important things NHPS could do to close the achievement gap.

I no longer teach in New Haven Public Schools, but I am still a teacher. And I can’t forget the students I met in New Haven. I can’t forget Kyshant and Alyssiah and Javier. I can’t forget their futures that might have been.