Nevells and his classmates reviewed PowerPoint slides for their semester-long project about the possible advantages of wooden lobster traps over the plastic-coated metal ones currently in use. The energy in the room was distracted and nervous. “Do I have to speak tonight?” asked one student. Another lifted a book off his desk, the State of Maine Marine Resources Law Book, and announced: “This is our Bible.”



Finally, at the end of a day filled with both pathway and non-pathway courses, Nevells got on a school bus headed to the Skippers presentation. Most of the DISHS boys stayed in their standard outfit of jeans with a baseball cap and hooded sweatshirt, but a few put on button-down flannel shirts, which is about as formal as it gets for them.



When it came time for DISHS’s presentation, the boys read off their notes, nervously moving away from the podium when their turn was over. But then-sophomore Skylar Perez looked up to make eye contact with the audience and even softened after he was able to make the auditorium laugh. Considering that at last year’s presentation, Perez was so shaky he could barely talk, the fact that he calmly narrated a whole slide with multiple bullet points is a big improvement.



John R. Williams, a successful local fisherman out of Stonington, is a supporter of the pathway. He comes from a long line of fisherman and was involved in groundfishing for bottom-dwellers like cod and flounder before overfishing led the community to focus on lobstering. Williams told me he appreciated that the DISHS students were getting an opportunity to practice the kind of public speaking they’ll have to do before regulatory agencies and local fishing councils: “I’m glad these young fellows are able to do it—to stand up and speak for things we never did.”



While the marine pathway is but one component of the larger school-improvement plan, it stands out as a hallmark of educational programming that is responsive to the unique needs of the local community. And it has helped garner attention for this small island: DISHS is now a model in student-centered learning for the state—and the nation.

Despite the promising turnarounds, there remain a number of challenges and tensions. It’s still hard to get students engaged in after-school activities if they have to miss out on possible earnings, and state test scores at DISHS remain comparatively low. Many agree that getting the rigor up in pathway classes to match traditional classes is a work in progress, something I saw firsthand when shadowing Nevells throughout his day and seeing the different levels of instruction. Natalie Griffith, a DISHS parent, is confident that her son Liam Griffith, who is now a senior, will be prepared for college at Marine Maritime Academy, but she adds that the level of rigor in the marine-studies pathway is uneven: “Some students might coast along.”



And importantly, teacher burnout and workload is a huge issue. It takes tremendous time and resources for this small school to develop pathways and to run the co-teaching that pathway classes often require. Kesselheim has heard teachers say: “How many new approaches to my curriculum must I learn each year?” The shift to personalized learning and additional focused support demands a lot of teachers, a particular challenge in a school where employees already wear multiple hats.





If all goes as planned however, by 2019, all students will graduate with a proficiency-based diploma that demonstrates they’ve mastered required content (instead of just taking required classes). In addition to the marine-studies pathway, there is an arts pathway in existence and a healthcare pathway in the works, meaning more students can fulfill core requirements in classes aligned to their interests. Says West: “We’re right in the middle of the messiest piece of it. It might sound anticlimactic, but I would like to see us make it to the other side.”

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