They say “ooh,” clap once, and then perform a highly stylized motion that produces no sound-a dolphin-like flapping of arms. I soon learn that Rocketeers have their own way of clapping. When told to do so, the students in the audience clap for those awarded. As their names are called, the students silently come to the front, where they receive a certificate, and a medal is put around their neck, Olympics style. Two students from each class will receive recognition for their math and reading achievement. In addition to the Daily Launch, this Friday is also an awards ceremony-one of four or five during the year. “Good morning Rocketeers!” Kinser shouts a second time, making sure she has the students’ attention. “Good morning Rocketeers!” Kinser shouts to the students. But there is a gym used for all-school gatherings.Įvery morning before heading to class, the school’s roughly 400 students sit on the gym floor in their assigned places. There is no library, no music or art room, no cafeteria or assembly hall. Rocketship Milwaukee is located in a one-floor, former industrial building. I got my first glimpse of this at the morning pep rally. It seems that Rocketship, along with Dress for Success, believes in Chant for Success. Ultimately, however, I was more curious about the school’s focus on chanting. Is Dress for Success one of the main messages we should be drilling into four-year-olds? And why is it that the Rocketship uniform bears a disturbing resemblance to the uniforms worn by Best Buy and Kmart clerks? The school handbook notes that students who do not wear their uniform “may lose recess, lunch or other privileges.” The policy was based more on a Catholic school philosophy that worried about the sin of pride and that discouraged too much attention to individual appearances.Īt Rocketship, I couldn’t quite figure out the laser-like focus on Dress for Success. But the nuns never told us that our uniforms were the key to success. I wore them throughout high school and appreciated that I didn’t have to figure out every morning what to wear. At the students’ eye level are Dress for Success posters featuring young children wearing the school uniform of khaki pants and a blue polo shirt with the Rocketship logo. Just inside the main entrance, there are banners from various universities hanging from the ceiling-part of the school’s message that students should be thinking about college. The local chamber of commerce raised $2.5 million in private contributions to help fund Rocketship’s expansion to eight schools in Milwaukee by 2017. Rocketship opened its Milwaukee school in 2013, serving overwhelmingly low-income, Latino students on the city’s South side. The young teachers were energetic.īut as I left the school, I couldn’t help thinking: Can young students dress their way to success? Or chant their way to academic achievement? Are computerized worksheets the answer to reducing the achievement gap? It is particularly known for its bare-bones curricular focus on standardized test scores in reading and math, its use of computer-based “learning labs” that cut down costs, and its promotion of the Rocketship brand-including a daily pep rally where students chant that they are “Rocketship Rocketeers.”Īfter visiting Rocketship Southside Community Prep, as Milwaukee’s K4 through fifth-grade school is formally known, I could see why some people might react positively. Rocketship, an entrepreneurial network of charter schools based in the Silicon Valley, has become a national poster child for the privatization of public education. It’s understandable.įor almost a quarter century, I have criticized using public tax dollars to fund private voucher schools and privately run charter schools. Her Dress for Success message is clear: I am competent and I am in charge.Īt the same time, Kinser is nervous about my visit. Following one of the school’s axioms-Dress for Success-she is wearing a magenta pencil-skirt that nicely sets off her black sweater, tights, and four-inch stiletto heels. Looking younger than her thirty-seven years and with the physique of a long-distance runner, Kinser has a seemingly endless supply of energy and enthusiasm. “I just want to make sure you’ll be positive,” she says when I visit the Rocketship charter school in Milwaukee. Like most principals, Brittany Kinser is a cheerleader for her school. This story appeared in the December 2014/January 2015 issue of our magazine.
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