The prize Who's in charge of America's schools?

Review by Choice Review

First published in serial form in The New Yorker, The Prize is a cautionary tale about how well-meaning school reform initiatives and the ambitions of powerful politicians failed to bring systematic change to the Newark, NJ, public schools. Newark Mayor Cory Booker and New Jersey Governor Chris Christie allied with Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg, who made a $100 million gift to reform what seemed a failing urban educational system. Russakoff explains how the reform plan developed by Booker and his team of outside consultants was fundamentally anti-democratic in tone and practice, and so failed to engage Newark residents. State-appointed superintendent Cami Anderson ignored the legitimate concerns raised by Newark residents, community leaders, and educators, thus causing frustrations among Newark public school teachers, students, and parents. In the face of continuing widespread poverty, declining student population, increased financial support of charter schools, and poor reception of her "One Newark" reform plan, Anderson ultimately resigned, marking the end of the project and efforts to return local control to Newark schools. In discussing all this, Russakoff reveals the critical need, on the part of school reformers, to engage all the educational stakeholders in a community. Exposing the perils of top-down educational reform, this volume is invaluable for those interested in improving urban education. Summing Up: Essential. All readers. --William Robert Fernekes, Rutgers Graduate School of Education

Copyright American Library Association, used with permission.

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Review by New York Times Review

IN AMERICA, EDUCATION was long seen as the great equalizer, but that has become mostly myth. So, over the past decade, there has been a vigorous effort to fortify and rebuild our schools, and in this there is a recognition that we have failed our children, especially those living in poverty, those for whom education could - and should - be transformational. From Chicago to New Orleans, school reform has been engineered by the well heeled and well connected - from hedge fund managers to corporate heads to directors of foundations - who believe that with the right kind of teachers and pedagogy, and with a business-like administration, schooling can trump the daily burdens and indignities of growing up poor. "No excuses" has become the rallying cry of the reformers. Along comes Dale Russakoff's "The Prize," a brilliantly reported behind-the-scenes account of one city's attempt to right its failing public schools. When Russakoff began reporting this book in 2010, fewer than 40 percent of the students in the third through eighth grades in Newark, N.J., were reading or doing math at grade level - and nearly half of the system's students dropped out before graduating. The schools were so broken that the state had taken them over. Something needed to be done. From this rubble emerged an exciting if not unusual partnership between three individuals who couldn't have been more different from one another. The city's black Democratic mayor, the charismatic and ambitious Cory Booker, joined hands with the state's blustery and ambitious white Republican governor, Chris Christie, to reimagine Newark's schools. Together, they enlisted Facebook's Mark Zuckerberg, who pledged a whopping $100 million - to be matched by another $100 million, which the city raised, mostly from foundations and private individuals. It was such an extraordinary gift that Zuckerberg, with Booker and Christie by his side, announced it on "The Oprah Winfrey Show." As Russakoff writes: "Their stated goal was not to repair education in Newark but to develop a model for saving it in all of urban America." This is what makes "The Prize" essential reading. Newark was to be our compass for school reform. Russakoff, a longtime Washington Post reporter, had the good sense to recognize the potential power and import of this story early on, and so embedded herself in Newark, winning access not only to the key players - Booker, Christie and Zuckerberg - but also to some remarkable teachers and students whose stories serve as a reality check to the maneuverings of those commanding the reform efforts. A lesser reporter might have succumbed to the seduction of such intimate access to the rich and powerful, but Russakoff maintains a cleareyed distance, her observations penetratingly honest and incisive to what she sees and what she hears. I suspect some may have regretted letting Russakoff in. We couldn't have asked for a better guide. When Zuckerberg declared his grant, the agenda was pretty clear: Turn the Newark schools around in five years and make it a national model. But from the get-go, there seemed little agreement as to how best to proceed. More than anything, Christie wanted to break the hold of the entrenched teachers' unions. Booker wanted more charter schools. Zuckerberg wanted to raise the status of teachers and to reward teaching that improved students' performance. Their five-year plan gets off to a rocky start. Initial funds go to a bevy of consultants, most of them white, most of them well connected, some of whom are getting paid $1,000 a day. One educator labels them the "school failure industry." Moreover, it quickly becomes apparent that this is a top-down effort, with politicians and the well-to-do setting the agenda. When Booker sets up a local foundation to handle Zuckerberg's gift, the seats on the board go only to donors of at least $5 million. You can begin to see where this story's headed. Booker shows more interest in his own political career than he does in running his city. Christie hires an ideologue as his point person on the Newark schools. And Zuckerberg, a newcomer to philanthropy, seems frustrated by the inability to negotiate a union contract that would quickly raise the salaries of promising young teachers and pay substantial merit bonuses for high performers. Moreover, they bring in a superintendent, Cami Anderson, from the New York City schools, whose unbending management style only affirms teachers' and parents' worst fears. To be fair, she's a complicated figure. She doesn't simply line up behind Booker, Christie and their moneyed backers in their ideological furor to create more charter schools, which as we've seen in city after city leaves behind an eviscerated public school system. Anderson, Russakoff writes, "called this 'the lifeboat theory of education reform,' arguing that it could leave a majority of children to sink on the big ship." But Anderson, like the other main characters in this effort, seems tone-deaf to the demands of the community to be involved in the process. It's the irony of ironies. Public education is the bedrock of democracy - and yet when it comes to repairing our schools the democratic process is too often ignored. What ultimately derails this grand experiment is the unwillingness of the reformers to include parents and teachers in shaping the reforms. "The Prize" is paradoxically a sobering yet exhilarating tale. For alongside the stories of those calling the shots, Russakoff tells the stories of those most profoundly affected by their decisions: teachers, students and their parents. It's here where rhetoric, politics and grand plans meet reality. I repeatedly found myself writing in the margins, "Wow," either because of the heroic efforts by teachers and staffers or because of the obstacles facing their students. Russakoff writes of three siblings whose mother is badly beaten by her boyfriend. The principal goes to court with the mother and helps her file charges while other staff members create a car-pooling schedule to get the kids to and from school each day. Another student, Alif Beyah, continually disrupts his classroom. With unusual self-awareness for a sixth grader, he tells a teacher, "If I get thrown out of class, nobody finds out I can't read." So the school assigns a teacher to meet with him in one-on-one sessions, and over the course of the year he jumps three grades in his reading levels. In a school that had one social worker for 612 students, teachers create a special class for children suffering from trauma, offering tai chi, yoga and breathing techniques. But what becomes clear is that these are exceptions rather than the rule. In fact, when Beyah enters high school, most of his support disappears. "THE PRIZE" MAY well be one of the most important books on education to come along in years. It serves as a kind of corrective to the dominant narrative of school reformers across the country. I'm not giving anything away by telling you that this bold effort in Newark falls far short of success. Most everyone moves on. Booker is elected to the Senate - and his nemesis, a high school principal deeply critical of his school reform efforts, becomes the city's next elected mayor. Christie gets caught up in the bridge-lane-closure scandal, and of course is now running for president. Anderson recently announced her resignation as superintendent. The one individual who appears changed by the experience is, somewhat surprisingly, Zuckerberg. Last year, along with his wife, Priscilla Chan, who as a pediatric intern cared for underserved children around San Francisco, Zuckerberg announced a gift of $120 million in grants to high-poverty schools in the Bay Area. This time, though, they declared their intent to include parents and teachers in the planning process. But more to the point, a key component to their grants includes building "a web of support for students," everything from medical to mental health care. Zuckerberg came to recognize that school reform alone isn't enough, that if we're going to make a difference in the classroom, we also need to make a difference in the lives of these children, many of whom struggle against the debilitating effects of poverty and trauma. Here is where this story ends - but also where the next story begins. ALEX KOTLOWITZ is a writer in residence at Northwestern University and is working on a book about the violence in Chicago.

Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [August 23, 2015]

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Review by Booklist Review

*Starred Review* In 2010, when Mark Zuckerberg pledged $100 million to transform Newark's public schools, it was the most spectacular part of the growing trend of philanthropy married to politics aimed at curing the most intractable problem of contemporary urban issues. Then Newark mayor Cory Booker teamed with Governor Chris Christie to turn around one of the most troubled urban school districts in the nation, favoring the creation of charter schools. It would mean massive reform of the way teachers were paid, rewarded, or let go, with accountability tied to student test scores. It was to be a national model. But along the way, the plan ran into massive resistance, not just from the teachers union but also from parents and local community groups suspicious of outsiders. Russakoff takes a detailed look at the major players in the dramatic fight to reform Newark's schools and win what had long been considered the prize of a huge school budget as well as the prize of a potential national reform example, if it could be achieved. Russakoff portrays the powerbrokers arrayed to make radical changes, the local principals and teachers on both sides of the charter-school debate, and the parents and students caught in the crossfire. This is an engrossing look at the school reform movement and the hard lessons learned in Newark.--Bush, Vanessa Copyright 2015 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Russakoff provides a critical and detailed account of the politics, money, and failure in a recent push to convert the Newark New Jersey public school system into a charter school system. At the center are political leaders such as Cory Booker and Chris Christie, a new generation of philanthropists such as Mark Zuckerberg, and, of course, the often-unheard and underrepresented parents and children of the Newark school systems. Cross's friendly and genial voice often belies the content, but that only makes the points hit harder. Russakoff is quite critical at times, but Cross's calm, steady, and gentle delivery make the listener more receptive to the prose. His narration is deliberate and articulate, keeping listeners fully engaged and clear about what is transpiring in the book. At times, some might find him too monotonous, but given the various characters and complexities of this book, it works quite well. A Houghton Mifflin Harcourt hardcover. (Sept.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by Library Journal Review

It was an ambitious plan: to completely reorganize the school system in Newark, NJ. With three of the country's top movers and shakers (Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg, then-Newark mayor Cory Booker, and NJ governor Chris Christie) leading the change and finding the funding, it looked like the dream of turning around one of the country's worst school districts was actually within reach. What could go wrong? Unfortunately, plenty. Key ingredients were missing. Teachers, parents, and students were not included in the planning, and they perceived this omission as disrespect, feared the changes, and felt helpless. Another major lacking component was a system for accountability of funds to insure the money got to where it was most needed; instead of funneling down where it would affect the children directly, funds were often used for salaries and bonuses for consultants. Former Washington Post reporter Russakoff shows how this endeavor ended up a fight between charter and district schools. Politics became an unexpected player in the process as, once again, the best way to meet the needs of the children fell by the wayside. VERDICT Russakoff tells the story well, stating the facts and presenting the issue without bias. This title will appeal to the casual reader as well as to those invested in the education of America's children. [See Prepub Alert, 3/9/15.]-Terry Christner, Hutchinson P.L., KS © Copyright 2015. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

The story of Chris Christie, Cory Booker, Mark Zuckerberg, and the $100 million grant for fixing New Jerseyand possibly all Americanschools. Go back five years, before Booker moved on from his post as mayor of Newark to join Congress; before Christie had fumbled his momentum over some petty payback involving a bridge; beforewell, OK, Zuckerberg was already plenty wealthwealthy and interested in finding a way to enable major shifts in education reform. Booker was a popular mayor, and Christie was a popular governor. Both had aspirations for higher office, and both wanted to get there by instituting major change in New Jersey. So what better arena than the school system of Newark, with its vertigo-inducing rates of dropouts, crumbling school buildings, and shameful academic standings? In her first book, expanded from a serialized New Yorker article, former Washington Post reporter Russakoff tells the story of how Christie leveraged his political power, Booker provided the charisma and inspiring speeches, and together they netted Zuckerberg and a $100 million donation. They raised money from other donors, as well, predicting a battle against entrenched interests on both sides of the aisle intent on maintaining the status quo: unionized teachers and an entire industry of "educational consultant experts" moving from district to district, ostensibly "fixing" many of the problems through trainings, incentive programs, and other initiatives that would, as Christie and Booker noted, serve only to reinforce efforts in directions that had proven ineffective. Russakoff digs deep into the story, examining the seemingly well-intentioned efforts to bring change; the "good-news publicity storm" that Booker mastered, raising his profile while neglecting his responsibilities; Zuckerberg's amazingly shortsighted faith in the level of control the politicians wielded; and the families caught up in the whirlwind, trying to find a reason to believe in the government's plans for their schools. An appendix lists all the recipients of the grant money and other funds. An absorbing entry into the burgeoning genre about necessary education reforms. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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1 The Pact December 2009-July 2010   Late one night in December 2009, a large black Chevy Tahoe moved slowly through some of the most violent neighborhoods of Newark, New Jersey. In the back sat two of the nation's rising political stars--the Republican governor-elect, Chris Christie, and the Democratic mayor of Newark, Cory Booker. The pair had grown friendly during Christie's years as United States attorney in Newark in the early 2000s and remained so, even as their national parties had become polarized to the point of gridlock in Washington. Booker had invited Christie to ride with him on this night in a caravan of off-duty cops and residents who periodically patrolled the city's busiest drug corridors.   The caravan started out on once-vibrant Orange Street in the Central Ward, across from a boarded-up housing project so still and silent it appeared dead. Baxter Terrace was home to both white and black industrial workers in the 1940s, when factories in Newark made seemingly everything--leather, plastics, cigars, textiles, dyes, hats, gloves, beer, electrical instruments, jewelry, chemicals, military clothing. As Newark's manufacturing collapsed, and as whites fled to the suburbs, Baxter became all black and poor, overtaken in subsequent years by violent gangs and drug dealers.   The volunteer patrolmen turned left on Bergen Street, which led to the South Ward, Newark's poorest and most violent. The street was punctuated with small tire and auto-body shops variously bearing Italian, Brazilian, and Spanish family names, with one gleaming exception--a small commercial development anchored by an Applebee's and a Home Depot, Newark's lone big box store. At almost every intersection, telephone poles bristled with signs offering cash for junk cars or for houses--"no equity, no problem." One stretch of Bergen, a middle-class shopping district in the 1960s, was now home to Tina's African Hair Braiding, Becky's Beauty Salon, a preowned-furniture store, Family Dollar, Power Ministry Assembly of God, Aisha's New Rainbow Chinese Halal Food, and a Head Start center. By far the biggest and most prosperous-looking establishment was Cotton's Funeral Service and the adjacent Scentiment Florist.   Driving through Newark was like touring archaeological layers of despair and hope. Downtown still had artifacts of the glory days before World War II, when Newark was among the nation's largest cities, with one of the highest-grossing department stores in the country. The majestic, limestone Newark Museum, endowed by the store's founder, Louis Bamberger, still presided over downtown, as did the Italian Renaissance-style Newark Public Library, built at the turn of the twentieth century. Run-down and vacant buildings now dominated the streetscapes, but five colleges and universities, including Rutgers-Newark and New Jersey Institute of Technology, held out potential for a better future. And Mayor Booker was aggressively recruiting development--the first new hotels in forty years, the first supermarkets in twenty. Soon Panasonic and Prudential Insurance would be building new office towers. A Whole Foods would come later. The momentum stopped far short of Newark's neighborhoods, however.   The ostensible purpose of the ride-along was for Booker to show the governor-in-waiting one of his crime-fighting techniques. But Booker had another agenda. His own rise in politics had coincided with, and been fueled by, a national movement seeking radical change in urban education, leading Booker to envision an audacious agenda for Newark and for himself. He would need Christie's help.   The state had seized control of the city's schools in 1995, after investigators documented pervasive corruption and patronage at the top, along with appalling neglect of students. Their conclusion was encapsulated in one stunning sentence: "Evidence shows that the longer children remain in the Newark public schools, the less likely they are to succeed academically." Fifteen years later, after the state had compiled its own record of mismanagement, fewer than forty percent of third through eighth graders were reading or doing math at grade level. Yet in all those years, no governor had returned the reins. That meant that within weeks, Christie, upon his inauguration, would become the overlord of the Newark Public Schools and its $1 billion annual budget.   Booker had listened carefully as Christie spoke in his campaign of his commitment to struggling cities, frequently reminding voters that he was born in Newark. The Christies had moved to the suburbs in 1967, when he was four, weeks before the eruption of cataclysmic riots that still scarred the city emotionally and physically. Booker asked his driver to detour from the caravan's route to Christie's childhood neighborhood, where the governor-elect said he had happy memories of taking walks with his mother, his baby brother in a stroller. The Tahoe pulled to a stop along a desolate stretch of South Orange Avenue. Its headlights illuminated a three-story brick building with gang graffiti sprayed across boarded-up windows, rising from a weedy, garbage-strewn lot. Across the street loomed dilapidated West Side High School. Almost ninety percent of its students lived in poverty, and barely half of the freshmen made it to graduation. Violence permeated children's lives. In separate incidents the previous year, three West Side students had been shot and killed by gangs. One year before that, on a warm summer night, local members of a Central American gang known as MS-13, wielding guns, machetes, and a steak knife, had murdered three college-bound Newark youths execution-style and badly maimed a fourth. Two of the victims and the survivor were West Side graduates.   Christie had made urban schools a prominent issuein his campaign. "We're paying caviar prices for failure," he'd said, referring to Newark's schools budget, of which three-quarters came from the state. "We have to grab this system by the roots and yank it out and start over. It's outrageous."   There was little debate that the district desperately needed reform. The ratio of administrators to students was almost twice the state average. Clerks made up thirty percent of the central bureaucracy, about four times the ratio in comparable cities. Even some clerks had clerks, yet payroll checks and student data were habitually late and inaccurate. Test and attendance data had not been entered for months, and computers routinely spat out report cards bearing one child's name and another child's grades, meaning the wrong students got grounded or rewarded. Most school buildings were more than eighty years old, and some were falling to pieces--literally. Two nights before first lady Michelle Obama came to Maple Avenue School, in November 2010, to publicize her Let's Move! campaign against obesity--appearing alongside Booker, a national cochair--a massive brick lintel fell onto the front walkway.   What happened inside many buildings was even worse. The district had four magnet schools, two of which produced debating champions and a handful of elite college prospects. But in twenty-three of its seventy-five schools, fewer than thirty percent of children from the third through the eighth grade were reading at grade level. The high school graduation rate was fifty-four percent, and more than ninety percent of graduates who attended the local community college required remedial classes. Only 12.5 percent of Newark adults were college graduates, just over a third of the statewide rate.   Newark was an extreme example of the country's increasing economic and racial segregation. In a predominantly white state, and one of the nation's wealthiest, ninety-five percent of Newark students were black or Latino and eighty-eight percent qualified for free or reduced-price lunches. Forty-four percent of city children lived below the poverty line--twice the national average--and seventy percent were born to single mothers. An astonishing forty percent of newborns received inadequate prenatal care or none at all, disadvantaged before drawing their first breaths. Excerpted from The Prize: Who's in Charge of America's Schools? by Dale Russakoff All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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